Serpentine [T.M. Riddle]

Real Talk

Sitting before Dumbledore in his office is a familiar, yet queer situation. He had been under the impression that there was no more need for weekly tea, as Tom was adapting quite well to Hogwarts. He has plenty of friends and high grades.

Occupying his time with swinging his legs gently back and forth (his feet just barely reach the floor), Tom stares at the jar of sweets on Dumbledore's desk as the man sets down a silver tray with two cups, sugar, cream, a teapot filled with hot water, and a small container with loose leaf black tea. In silence, his professor prepares their tea and sets down a cup before Tom, leaving him to prepare it himself (undoubtedly, Dumbledore remembers how he likes it, but he also remembers that he prefers to do it himself because he is not a helpless little boy).

Dumbledore asks if Tom knows why he was called here, not in a way that makes him feel like he's in trouble, but in a way that makes him feel like he's about to tell him about the death of someone close to him.

"You want to talk to me about the war, sir."

"Indeed, Mister Riddle."

Tom's mood sours more.

Headmaster Dippet has indeed sent back word to his orphanage of his safe arrival to Hogwarts. This, he has done to all Muggleborn families (and Tom cringes at that word) before breaking the news that no, they cannot be kept at Hogwarts over the summer.

The disappointment seeps into Tom like spilt honey on wool.

And then Dumbledore explains the decision. It is not a talk that is given to every other student trapped in the Muggle world, he's sure. This is a talk exclusively for him. Made and catered to him. And he's not sure how to feel about that.

Old laws biting him in the ass, is the summary of what Dumbledore is telling him. In her history, the statue of secrecy had just begun, and the Ministry of Magic saw fit to become involved in Hogwarts policies, to the extreme charging of pureblooded families, who didn't trust their children to the Ministry. Any opportunity not spent learning or studying was a chance for the government's propaganda to infiltrate their heads, if it wasn't already doing so within the classroom. They had been hoping the statue was just a temporary hack. A mistake to be corrected.

They couldn't allow their precious heirs to be left at school for so long. To be corrupted. Influenced. Swayed.

He knows that what he is learning is little more than a summary of the real history, but he still believes the words coming from the Deputy Headmaster. What reason does he have to lie to him?

But then, something awfully strange happens:

Dumbledore sighs, appears resigned, and leans back in his elegant chair, debating with himself, "I cannot appoint you a set of parents, or new family, Tom, but I can, perhaps, suggest a temporary guardian?"

His hands tremble as he stills in the mist of sipping his tea (four sugars, no cream).

What.

The cup is set down in its saucer and rested on his lap as he clears his throat and composes himself, "Excuse me, professor?"

"It is as I said: Should the war...truly take as dark a turn as the Muggle Ministry feels it will, I believe I can help secure you an apprenticeship. With, of course, the permission of the matron at Wool's."

This...this has to be some sort of trick. Surely, Dumbledore means to keep him under watch. Under lock and key. The person he suggests will be abusive or mad or incompetent or completely under the thumb of the Deputy Headmaster. Everything Tom does, says, eats, breathes, will be reported back to Dumbledore. It would be miserable. So much that it would be better to stay at...at the orphanage.