twenty nine ; tom riddle's orphanage

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After delving through the gas-like substance inside of the Pensieve, the three landed swiftly in a bustling, old-fashioned London street. Muggles were wearing clothes that were entirely outdated, and the walk was littered with buildings that seemed to look dark and haunted.

"There I am," said Dumbledore brightly, pointing to a tall figure crossing the road.

This younger version of Dumbledore seemed to sport auburn hair, unlike the usual silver Diana had always seen it. His face was much less worn from age and he wore a deep velvet plum suit that attracted many curious stares.

"I like that suit," Diana said before she could stop herself, and Harry attempted to cover his laugh with a cough. Dumbledore chuckled, and they followed across the street and entered a tall, rusted iron gate that swayed crookedly. They strode toward the large, dilapidated building and up the crumbling stone steps.

Young Dumbledore knocked on the door.

It opened clumsily and a scruffy girl wearing an apron emerged.

"Good afternoon," Dumbledore said politely. "I have an appointment with a Mrs. Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

"Oh," said the girl, peering wide-eyed at his unusual outfit. "Um...just a mo'... MRS. COLE!" she bellowed indelicately over her shoulder.

A distant voice shouted something in response, and the girl motioned them inside.

"Diana," Dumbledore said quietly, "remember I showed you the memory long ago of when I visited your mother at the orphanage?"

She nodded.

"This is mere days afterward. At that point, I had my suspicions regarding the prophecy of your mother and father."

Harry, who could not hear what Dumbledore was saying, eyed them curiously. They waited patiently in a shabby lobby with dirty checkered-tiled floors and walls with ugly, peeling wallpaper. The place looked dreadful, and Diana had the fleeting notion that her time at St. Mungo's, no matter how horrible, was most likely better than having to live in this place. A sharp-featured woman came bounding around the corner, a few stray hairs that had escaped her tight bun flying wildly around her face. She looked incredibly high-strung and as if she was going to burst from stress, and the sight of a stranger did not warm her in the slightest. She was talking to another employee, instructing them to do multiple different tasks, and then turned to address Dumbledore.

"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore kindly, holding out his hand for her to shake. She gaped at his outfit.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Deciding that Dumbledore was, in fact, real, she blinked furiously. "Oh yes. Well--well then--you'd better come into my room. Yes."

She led them into a small room that was closer to the size of a closet and invited Dumbledore to sit in a rickety wooden chair across the desk. The three observers squished in behind Dumbledore's younger self to watch.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future."

"Are you family?" asked Mrs. Cole gruffly.

"No, I am a teacher," said Dumbledore. "I have come to offer Tom a place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"

"It is called Hogwarts," he replied.

"And how come you're interested in Tom?"

"We believe he has qualities we are looking for."

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