The Enemy of my Enemy

The Memory, Part II

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. "You are a wizard."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: there was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his intricately carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

"Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am. "

"Prove it," said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he had said, "Tell the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts-"

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant— please, Professor, could you show me-?"

Without warning, the wardrobe burst into flames.

Riddle jumped to his feet for a third time and let out a howl of rage. Teddie could hardly blame him, she would've done the same had some strangers come into her home and set something that had possibly held all her possessions into flames. But, as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, pure rage burning in his eyes, the flames disappeared, and the wardrobe looked unscathed.

"How did you -?" Riddle asked, breaking off. His gaze flickering between Dumbledore and the wardrobe.

"It is a skill that you will learn as you go through school," said Dumbledore. "Wandless and non-verbal magic is taught in seventh year of Hogwarts. However, I did notice something during that presentation - I think there is something trying to escape your wardrobe."

Teddie hadn't heard it originally, at least, not over the roar of the flames. But now that they had been diminished, she could hear the tinkering and chattering of objects coming from behind the wooden door.

Riddle stepped up to the wardrobe and opened the door. It was bare, save for a rail of threadbare clothes, and a small cardboard box on the topmost shelf. It was the box that was shaking, as if frantic and terrified mice were inside trying to break out.

Teddie watched as Riddle took down the box and set it in his bed. He flipped the lid open, and she was stunned to see that there wasn't anything alive in the box. Everything was just useless trinkets - a silver thimble, a yo-yo, a tarnished mouth organ among them.

"Are these yours, Tom?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, I suppose they're not, Professor," Tom answered, honestly.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly. "I shall know if you haven't. And be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Riddle did not look ashamed of his actions. He merely stared coldly at Dumbledore and then nodded. "Yes, sir," he said.

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have - inadvertently, I am sure— been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic-yes, there is a Ministry-will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle again.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, "I haven't got any money."