Metanoia~ Tom Riddle

Chapter 8

Dumbledore lead Veruca to his office, silently. It was an eerie silence as if he knew Veruca had some almost inconceivably grave secret to tell. She did, but she wasn't sure if she could tell him. What could he do about it if she told him anyway? He had to remain as normal as he would in the timeline without her, though that one didn't technically exist anymore.

"So," Dumbledore opened the door to his office and lead her to his desk. "Your name is Veruca...?"

Veruca cleared her throat, "Uhm, Veruca de Fouix. I've come from Paris, sir, I have a letter from my father." She said, sticking with the original story. She pulled the, somehow unharmed, letter from her coat pocket and handed it over.

Dumbledore glanced at her before opening the letter. He read the letter twice, before nodding and standing. "Let us go chat with the headmaster."

"This way, my dear." The once-old-now-young wizard began to lead Veruca down the corridors she was already so familiar with. They passed a couple of classrooms, beautiful windows and portraits Veruca would never forget. They turned a corner and Dumbledore broke the silence once again, "So, what business brought you to Hogwarts?"

"Well, as you read in the letter, my father has homeschooled me all my life. Recently, however, he said he wanted me to make friends and be able to further my studies with actual professors. So, he decided to send me here." There was a short silence after her words. Dumbledore seemed to be debating something mentally so, Veruca stayed quiet.

They eventually arrived at the doors to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore knocked and, at the sound of Dippet's voice, they entered. The office looked now as it did in the '70s. Clearly, Dumbledore didn't care to change too much. A few portraits were missing from the walls, and Fawkes wasn't at his perch but aside from that, everything was the same. There was one thing, however, that surprised Veruca about the office, and that was Tom Riddle, leaning against the wall in a nook of the room with a book. Dumbledore seemed mildly surprised by this as well, though he didn't say anything.

"Ah, Albus! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Dippet spoke loud and cheerily, with a strange kind of bounce, Veruca instinctively cringed at him. Then, he noticed her. "Who is this lovely young lady? I don't believe she is a student?" Veruca noticed Tom glance up at her, his dark green eyes vivid and glinting with curiosity.

"No, Armando, this here is Veruca De Fouix, from France. She brings a letter from her father, one I think you should read..." Dumbledore gave the letter to Dippet and stepped back from the desk. Like Dumbledore, Dippet read and re-read the letter before glancing up at Veruca. The girl couldn't help but close her eyes for a moment.

What if he said no?

What if he asked questions she couldn't answer?

"Veruca, your father is a ministry worker? In France? Why not send you to Beauxbaton's?" Dippet broke Veruca's train of thought.

"Well, sir, my mother went to Beauxbaton's in her youth and she shared with him the poor quality of the extracurricular activities. He wants a better future for me, and he saw only Hogwarts fit enough for my education."

"Fair enough, they are strict over there. Look, I'm flattered that your father thought only Hogwarts fit enough for you, but flattery didn't get pupils into this school. I'll have to send you back with a letter for your father regarding the greases that keep this school running."

Dippet got out a pot of ink and parchment. Veruca's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widened, and her shoulders slumped. She didn't even make it to the sorting hat. Tom watched, quietly from a few feet away as her mind whirred about. Both Tom and Dumbledore noticed how defeated and scared she looked when Dippet refused her.

Veruca had completely forgotten that either one of them was even there, the whole world fell away as she struggled with her limited choices. The greases that keep this school running. The pouch of money in her coat pocket got heavy and she sighed before drawing it out. She flinched as she put it on the desk, her life support, and stepped back.

Dippet looked up, he eyed the bag before him and then moved his curious eyes to Veruca. She put on her best-practiced smile and shrugged, "I forgot, my father instructed me to give that to you as a gift for this impractically sudden favor."

Dippet put down his quill and picked up the bag, weighing it in the palm of his hand, smiling. Veruca wanted very much to roll her eyes at how easy it was to buy him. Tom didn't roll his eyes. He was already familiar with how cheap Dippet was, he was more focused on Veruca's defeated manner. Her shoulders were slumped, she no longer looked confident.

His observations were correct, of course, Veruca was defeated momentarily, but only because she now had no money for anything; supplies she might need for school, to buy or rent any sort of transportation, a flat for school breaks, not even for a room at the Leaky Cauldron, or a meal for that matter.

"Well, my dear, let's get you sorted, shall we?" he got up and turned to retrieve the hat.

"What am I going to do?" Veruca whispered to herself as she struggled not to cry. Tom heard her whisper to herself, but he didn't say anything about it. He was slowly becoming aware of how desperate Veruca was. Although, his theories didn't come close to the truth.

He figured maybe her father disowned her, or died, or maybe she didn't know her father at all. Maybe she had worked all her intelligent years for that money and was supposed to use it for a home and food for that home. He felt a pang of sympathy in his chest, though it was gone quickly.

Dippet came back a moment later with the sorting hat and a small stool. He set the stool down in front of Veruca and motioned for her to sit. She did, and the hat was placed on her head.