AN:/ Wow...it's been a while. It's been torturous not writing for so long but thankfully, I now have the time again! For those of you waiting eagerly for FTG, do not fear, the next chapter is almost done. I would like to state that I'm co-writing another project with Silent Shoggoth concerning Silent Hill. It's linked in my profile and if you like scary stuff or detective type stories, you should certainly check it out. Thank-you for so many reviews and my deepest regrets for being so darn long getting a chapter out for this.

Little Hangleton

X

Tom wasn’t entirely sure what he had been expecting when someone called themselves a wizard. It certainly hadn’t been the cheery, red haired man that gave him an encouraging smile and a pat on the head.

“Do you want to come to Hogwarts Tom?” the bearded red-haired man, known as Professor Dumbledore, had asked him.

“Of course I do,” Tom had replied, “More than anything.”

Marny had sat the three of them down with some tea and delicious scones. Tom couldn’t help but notice that the professor helped himself to a scone, a minimum of three times.

His scones hadn’t been touched due to nervousness and more then a little apprehension. Professor Dumbledore seemed like an all right person, but Tom really didn’t know what his father was going to say about him, or what conclusions would be drawn based on that conversation alone. However, he certainly wasn’t about to admit that to a stranger, wizard or not.

Marny smiled at Tom encouragingly, “He’s a clever little boy. He likes to learn things on his own when he can. He takes to books, like a duck takes to water.”

“Ah,” Professor Dumbledore said, bemused, “Perhaps there’s a Ravenclaw in the making, sitting with us today!”

Marny giggled, “Wouldn’t that be wonderful! You’d be in my old house, Tom!”

Professor Dumbledore grinned at him and Tom could see that through the man’s lively eyes, a lot of kindness was offered in his direction. And yet, underneath that veneer Tom could see other things, or rather feel them prickling across his skin like tiny, misty drops.

It was power, a great deal of it and of a peculiar sort.

And there was nothing else in the world Tom could say, that he’d rather have than that.

Every minute he spent around his father only made him more zealous in his ambition to get out of Little Hangleton and become something more. There was nothing there that he could say he honestly wanted.

“It would be wonderful,” Tom said, a charming boyish smile flitting across his face, “I’d like that.”

Marny practically melted but Tom knew when he was being scrutinized by another party. Professor Dumbledore was a friendly sort and very well meaning but Tom could also sense an intense cleverness in the man that he hadn’t felt in such a dull little hamlet before. It was something to be wary of, he decided.

The conversation with Tom’s father did not go quite so well. Tom had pushed his ear solidly against the library door, to try and catch some of the conversation. For some reason, he could hear nothing until the door swung open, almost crashing into him.

“And he won’t be going to your- your heathen school either!” He heard his father sputter in a most ungracious fashion.

Tom’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach; his father only used that tone when he was angry beyond all comprehension. Tom just barely managed to hide behind a thick velvet curtain before the Professor and an apologetic Marny, blustered out of the old oak doors. Behind them, the doors were resolutely slammed shut.

Tom shuffled silently behind the velvet tapestry, wondering if he would be rescued by Marny or if his father had made a coffin and slammed the lid shut, around his dreams.

“I’m so sorry Professor,” Marny said, her eyes glistening, “He’s not usually that difficult.”

“Unless it has to do with the Wizarding world,” Professor Dumbledore said congenially, completely un-rattled, “I understand, Marny, I’ve dealt with many recalcitrant parents before, they always let them go in the end.”

But Marny wasn’t so easily comforted. Her hands twisted her apron up into a tormented ball.

“Professor,” Marny said in a strained voice, “He only took him in because…they thought there was a curse. And it’s affected his judgment concerning our young Tom, he’s so very afraid of everything to do with that woman!”

“Understandably, I’m afraid,” Professor Dumbledore said, “And there will be others at Hogwarts who would shun him for the wizarding side of his family, more than they ever would for the muggle. But I have every confidence in our young charge that he will overcome any difficulties set in his way. Cheer up, my dear. It will all come to right in the end.”

And Professor Dumbledore’s eyes landed on a piece of velvet curtain that held a boy shaped lump in it, and smiled encouragingly.