ruins ; harry potter [1]

twenty nine ; tom riddle's orphanage

It was silent, for Dumbledore did not press her on the matter. Diana's eyebrows furrowed as she watched with eager anticipation.

"Billy Stubbs's rabbit...well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see how he could have possibly done, but even so, it didn't seem to hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

"I shouldn't think so, no," said Dumbledore quietly.

"But I'm jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then--" she took a swig directly from the bottle, and some messily dribbled down her chin. "--on the summer outing--we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or the seaside--well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it.  And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things..."

A cave. It clicked in her head, like two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. A cave on the seaside, the woman had said. Diana had been dreaming of a cave on the seaside for months. Her breath hitched, and she got the attention of Dumbledore, who furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him," commented Mrs. Cole, taking another swig of gin.

"You understand, I'm sure, that we will not be keeping him permanently?" clarified Dumbledore. "He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer."

"Oh, well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker," she waved with a slight hiccup. She got to her feet, surprisingly steadily. "I suppose you'd like to see him?"

"Very much," Dumbledore said, rising too. He followed her out of the closet and down the corridor lined with thick wooden doors. They ascended a flight of stairs and turned off of the second landing to the first door in the long corridor. She knocked twice and entered.

"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton--sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you--well, I'll let him do it."

Both Dumbledores, Diana, and Harry entered the tiny dorm and Mrs. Cole closed the door behind them. Recalling the memory she had watched with Dumbledore last year about his first time meeting Vera in her orphanage, Diana couldn't help but note the major differences about their bedrooms. Vera's room had looked as lively as it could've, with pictures drawn and colored onto scrap paper hanging on the walls and tattered old books littering her desk and drawers. Tom's room looked vacant, as if no one lived there; there were no personal affects of any kind, other than the book that Tom Riddle was reading on his bed.

There was no trace of his Gaunt heritage in him--he looked to be the spitting image of his handsome father, even at such a young age, with dark hair and pale, even skin. His dark eyes narrowed as he examined Dumbledore's odd appearance. As she looked at him, she saw many physical similarities between him and herself: their same dark hair and eyes, the same calculating look that seemed to be consistently present in their eyes.

"How do you do, Tom?" said Dumbledore politely, walking forward and holding out his hand.

Tom hesitated, but finally took it. He kept eye contact confidently, just as Diana noticed Vera had done, but unlike Vera's, is face was impassive and observant. Dumbledore turned Tom's desk chair and sat. It looked ominously like a patient meeting with a doctor.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. While Vera had been excited when Dumbledore introduced himself, Tom looked warily suspicious. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"