Hello all! I decided after a few days of running through my head that I just had to write this story. It fits in at the beginning of Half Blood Prince and I have changed only minor details. For the convenience of writing this story, the flashbacks are told mostly from the point of view of Tom...sometimes others. Please let me know what you think, any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Note: All characters and some text were taken from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I only own my original characters.

Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, our queen.

Chapter 1: The Boy Called Tom Riddle

Harry climbed the stairs to Albus Dumbledore's office and each step his feelings of excitement seemed to grow. Ever since the beginning of his sixth year, he had been receiving lessons from the Headmaster in secret. Lessons that had become anything other than what he had expected. At first, he had thought he would be learning powerful defensive magic, or perhaps continuing the disastrous occlumency lessons he had begun the year before with Snape.

It turned out to be neither.

He reached the top of the stairs, knocking as he did on the great wooden door that marked the entrance to the office of the Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Come in" came the muffled voice of Harry's mentor and teacher.

"Hello professor" Harry said and then frowned slightly as he saw the pensive was already present on Dumbledore's desk. "I'm not late, am I?"

"Oh no, you are right on time. I simply took the liberty of preparing things for you as we have a lot of information to cover in our session tonight." He gestured with his good hand; the other still contained the ring and as a result was blackened and shriveled by some magic the man had yet to discuss with Harry.

"Do you recall where we left off last time we met?" Asked the old man gently as Harry took his seat in front of the massive desk.

"Yes sir, you showed me the memory of Voldemort's mother and his father along with your thoughts on how it was they met."

"Yes, that's right exactly." His eyes lighting up with pleasure at Harry's correct answer. "We will be picking off at the next point; this time however, we will be using a memory of my own."

"Of your own, sir?"

"Yes, you see Harry, Voldemort is not entirely the man you have come to believe he is. Last time, I suspected you harbored some feelings of surprise at the thought that such a dark wizard as he could even have a mother." He paused, waiting for Harry to argue.

He said nothing, knowing full well that he had been surprised. Surprised, that the monster that had killed Harry's entire family had been born to people who might have cared for him.

"As such, in order for us to truly understand his motives and understand his plans, we must come to see things from his point of view. Today, I think we might manage that." He continued.

Harry only nodded and turned his entire attention to the swirling mass of silver fog which was present in the bowl before him. He took a deep breath, and plunged down, Dumbledore following very shortly after.

London, England July, 1938

"Tom…Tom!" The youngest matron hissed at him in frustration. "What are you doing?"

"…just playing." Tom said with annoyance cleanly hidden behind his innocent smile.

"You are playing with ten frogs?" The matron asked suspiciously.

"Yes, it's quite fun, would you like to join me?" He kept his smile plastered on his face.

"Of course not!" She growled in frustration as she picked the eleven year-old boy up by the collar of his worn jacked. "You have a visitor, you need to look presentable. Oh and where has Ivy got too?"

Tom instantly flinched at the touch of the old bat (though she couldn't have been more than thirty). He was always uncomfortable with others touching him, but even more so when it was unexpected. He also felt surprise, this matron was new and she didn't have the skittishness that the others had around him. Well, he would have to change that.

"I'm here matron!" another voice said which belonged to a girl who was his age.

"Oh well at least you haven't completely destroyed your clothes. Come here, there is a visitor that wants to see both you and Tom."

"Both?" Ivy said, but followed along dutifully after the matron.

"Yes both, maybe he wants to adopt you. Be on your best behavior or you won't get any supper!" She threatened, still dragging Tom along behind her by his jacket.

Tom's eyes narrowed at the threat. It wasn't an empty one, he knew that. He also knew that the orphanage was overrun, like usual, and he and Ivy were getting older. They were getting less…desirable. He knew that the Head Matron, Miss Cole hated the pair of them, that she would do anything to be rid of them. Stubbornly, he threw his feet down, forcing the matron to let go of his collar.

"I can walk there myself. Besides, Ivy needs to wash her hands." He said icily.

"Fine! Just be presentable in five minutes." And she jogged away, no doubt to ensure that their guest wouldn't be kept waiting for too long.

"I don't need to wash my hands Tom; you were the one playing in the mud with the frogs." Ivy said pointedly, nodding as she did so at Tom's hands.

"I know that. I just wanted to get rid of her." Tom said levelly. "Anyway, those ten should do us for the next few days. I want to see if we can make them explode like the one last week. Besides, do you really want to go without dinner two nights in a row?"

"…no." Ivy said quietly. They had been threatened by Miss Cole the day before, and despite their efforts, they just couldn't explain how Timmy and Johnny had both fallen down the stairs. Two different times. On the same day. Even though Ivy and Tom had both been in separate areas of the building at the time. It never seemed to matter to Miss Cole though, it was always their fault.

"Well then, I need to go change." Tom said dismissively. "Come with me."

Ivy dutifully followed.

The two walked in silence down the long, white corridor to Tom's room. Once there, he quickly changed into a new jacket and new white shirt, pausing in between to wash his hands in the wash stand that at the end of the room.

"Tom…do you really think we will get adopted?" Ivy's voice broke the comfortable silence. There was no wistful hope in her voice, no that had been broken years before after disappointment after disappointment. Though Tom had been at the orphanage the longest of any of the children, Ivy had been there second-longest.

Tom had heard the story many times from the matrons' fat mouths. His mother had given birth in this very building, dying shortly after, giving only enough instructions as to provide his new caretaker's with a name: Tom Marvolo Riddle. She had said Tom and Riddle after his father, while Marvolo, an odd name, was provided in memory of her father, his grandfather.

After that, Tom had known only this orphanage. He hadn't gotten along with the other children, had flat out refused to play with them, and, when they became too annoying, he would…punish them. At first, Tom hadn't been able to control it, but then, slowly, he discovered he could. He had felt special, in that moment, finally feeling like he could do something others could not.

Then, the year he had turned five, he discovered he wasn't alone.

Tom paused in his washing to shoot a look at the girl seated on his bed. Ivy Marie Petros had arrived at the orphanage the year both she and Tom had turned five. She had been an odd one even then. She never uttered a word for the first year of her stay. Tom had ignored her. Just another stupid girl, no interest to him whatsoever.

"Of course not, Ivy. Don't be daft. Who would want a pair of eleven-year olds? If anything, I'll be adopted." He smiled at her. Not a totally unkind smile and Ivy knew him well enough to catch on to his favorite subject to tease her with.

She looked at him, returning the smile, jerking her head casually to the right. As she did so, the water basin in which he had been washing the mud from his hands jiggled, threatening to spill all over his second set of clean clothes.

Tom jumped back, alarm written on his handsome features. He whirled around to face her, eyes narrowed and ready for anything she might do. But, as usual, Ivy didn't do anything to Tom. She just continued to smile before asking, "Are you quite done? The matron said we only had five minutes."

Tom led the way back from his room to the main entrance of the orphanage. Ivy followed close behind him. As he passed the various other residents, he smirked as he saw the fear in their eyes. Worthless, every one of them. The only person in Tom's world who wasn't the least bit useless was the one following him.

Ivy had begun to catch Tom's eye several months after she arrived. She still wasn't talking, but Tom had noticed that while the others steered clear of him, Ivy hadn't been so lucky. She had gotten bullied. Mostly because of her eyes at first, both of which were an unusual shade of violet, but when she didn't fight back or cry the bullying only got worse. It wasn't until the group of them went out to the cape, like they did every summer that it happened.

Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, perhaps the two biggest fools that Tom had ever seen, corned Ivy down by the beach. English beaches, being that they were never quite warm and always windy, had caused the two of them to insist Ivy join them in a cave. Tom had overheard them and decided to follow behind them out of boredom.

Dennis had started it, Tom had seen it clearly. He shoved Ivy, and hard. The girl was smaller than the others her age and went down, bloodying one knee considerably in the process. Tom had expected her to start crying, but she simply rose quietly back to her feet and shot Dennis the nastiest glare she could.

That infuriated Amy, who shoved Ivy again trying to elicit a response from the smaller girl. This went on for several minutes, both bullies shouted taunts at Ivy, saying things like, 'purple-freak' and 'stupid monkey'. Tom watched the entire exchange and was about to step in, after all, he wasn't going to be blamed for those fools killing the girl, when he felt it.

It was like a rush of power, one that he had felt before in himself. But this time, it came from outside of him. There was a bright light and Amy and Dennis had been shoved backwards, both hitting their heads on the stone wall behind them. Tom turned to look and saw Ivy, breathing hard, wiping blood away from her mouth.

"How did you...?" Tom began to say, when another burst of light, this time red, shot forth from Ivy, hitting both of the others and causing them to scream in agony.

The light went out as abruptly as it had appeared, and Ivy fell to her knees, splaying her hands out in front of her to avoid hitting her face on the stones.

Tom approached her cautiously, lest she turn her powers on him. He crouched down beside her, careful not to make too much noise. She stiffened as she sensed someone beside her, and looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time. Tom widened his own dark eyes, enchanted by something he had never seen before.

His hands twitched and in that moment, he knew he had to…collect her.

Tom and Ivy arrived in the entrance area of the building well within the five minute time-frame they were given. Miss Cole was waiting form them along with possibly the most garishly dressed man Tom had ever seen.

The man was older, Tom guessed around fifty, and sported a purple suit that clashed hideously with his auburn hair and beard. The man's eyes were blue and twinkled at the two children. Tom's eyes narrowed. He had a knack for guessing how people would interact with him, and for some reason, this man caused him to be on edge.

Tom moved, ever so slightly, to position himself partially in front of Ivy.

"Ah, you must be Tom, and you must be Ivy." The man said pleasantly as if he couldn't be more delighted in the world to talk to two orphans. "I was hoping to spend a few moments speaking with you. Is there a place we could go, the three of us?" The man began talking, directly addressing Tom and Ivy, but the last part was directed at Miss Cole.

"Yes, you may go in Tom's room if you like. It's the closer of the two." She shot Tom a look that was a mix of distaste and fear. He ignored her.

"Yes sir, please follow me." He gestured for the odd man to follow him, Ivy, as always painfully alert, following behind him.

They entered Tom's room, ironic as they had just left it moments before. The man closed the door behind himself and waiting for the two of them to be settled. Ivy took a seat on the bed, Tom choosing to sit next to her. The man grabbed the chair out from under the desk and dragged it forward to sit on.

"Hello Tom, hello Ivy." The man said again, "My name is professor Dumbledore."

At the title, Tom tensed. "Professor? Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at us?" He pointed a finger at the door, accusing Miss Cole, the old bag. His could feel his heart speed up. He wouldn't go back to a hospital; he wouldn't let Ivy go either. He didn't care what anyone said, they weren't mad.

"No, no." Said Dumbledore.

"I don't believe you. She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!" Tom was beginning to become nervous. He had been sent the year before, he still remembered the poking and the prodding and the…medications. So bad they made you want to die.

He only settled down a little when he felt Ivy's hand clench around the back of his shirt. He hated touch, specially unexpected touch…from anyone but Ivy. He felt his heartrate slow down and he forced himself to regain his composure.

"Who are you?" He almost hissed. Tom hated many things, but lying was the worst. He wouldn't put up with it from anyone, not even this eccentric buffoon.

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you both a place at my school—your new school, if you would like to come."

Hogwarts? Tom thought, fully panicking now. "You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor', yes of course—well, I'm not going see? That old can's the one who should be in an asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, you can ask them, they'll tell you! She didn't either; you aren't taking either of us." Tom was frantic; he had jumped off the bed, grabbed Ivy's hand in the process and forced them both to back slowly away from Dumbledore and move towards the door of the room.

"I am not from the asylum, I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you—

"I'd like to see them try." Tom said viciously, Ivy's hand still firm in his grasp. He wouldn't let anyone take them away; he wouldn't let them try again.

"Hogwarts is a school for people with special abilities…"

"We aren't mad!" Tom practically screamed back.

"I know you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school for magic." Dumbledore said calmly.

For once in a long time, Tom was struck speechless. Slowly, he loosed his grip on Ivy's hand, turning slightly to catch her eye. She looked at him with the same look of confusion that he knew must he mirrored on his own face. He looked back to Dumbledore and stared at the man as if he could catch him lying.

"Magic?" Tom said, hardly daring to speak the word.

"That's right."

"It's…it's magic, what we can do?"

"What is it that you both can do?" The professor asked.

"All sorts." Tom's emotions were going through a mad swing. He flushed slightly from excitement, walking swiftly to sit back down on the bed. Ivy followed, her violet eyes fixed on Dumbledore in the most unbelievable manner. Tom began to give the professor a run-down of all their experiments, trembling as he did so at the rush of possible discovery.

"I knew I was different. I knew I was special. And when I met Ivy, I knew she was special too. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you are quite right. You are a wizard. Ivy is a witch."

"Are you a wizard too?" Ivy asked, her voice soft, speaking to Dumbledore for the first time.

"Yes I am."

"Prove it." Tom hissed, his defenses going up at the sound of Ivy's voice. She always knew how to get to the heart of the matter. "Tell the truth."

"If, as I take it, you are accepting your places at Hogwarts…?"

"Of course we are." Tom practically barked at the man.

Dumbledore looked from Tom to Ivy, expecting an answer from her.

"Of course." She echoed with not a second of hesitation.

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

Tom bit back a retort, quickly analyzing the odds of the situation. If this…Dumbledore person was speaking the truth, it could be their only chance to get out of this rat-hole, together. If not…Tom would only risk severe disappointment, but things would be the same. No harm would come to either of them.

"I'm sorry, sir. I meant—please, Professor, could you show me—?"

Then, to Tom's total surprise, the man drew a long piece of smoothed wood from his jacket pocket and promptly set his wardrobe on fire. Tom and Ivy both jumped to their feet, Tom's voice screaming with rage, Ivy's with shock. Though this was Tom's room, all of their collective belongings resided in it, including the money they had been saving, slowly and silently.

Then, all at once, the flames were extinguished and not a mark to be seen present on the wardrobe. It was as if the entire thing had never happened. But it had, Tom was sure it had. And that proved it.

The rest of the visit had finished in a whirlwind. It had amazed and frightened Tom that the Professor had known that the several other belongings in the wardrobe didn't belong to himself or to Ivy. The man had made it clear to Tom that they needed to be returned, and grudgingly he agreed to do so. Those little treasures didn't matter anymore; he and Ivy would be able to collect many greater and better ones where they were going.

Before the Professor left, he had provided Ivy and Tom both with letters and a list of supplies needed before September 1st. He had also given both of them a large amount of what appeared to be solid gold wizard money and instructions how to shop for their books and other things.

"I can help you both find everything—"

"You are coming with us?" Tom had asked, annoyance threatening to break through his carefully blank expression. They didn't need him, they didn't need anyone.

"Certainly, if you—"

"We don't need you. I'm used to doing things for myself; I go around London on my own all the time. Ivy does too."

"How do you get to this Diagon Alley, sir?" Ivy asked, her voice smoothing over all the excess emotions that Tom was feeling.

Dumbledore had explained it quite clearly; Tom listened carefully, emotionlessly, but even so was unable to suppress the remark about how common his name was.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?

"There are a lot of Toms". The future Lord Voldemort said.

Hogwarts, Scotland, Present day

Harry burst out of the pensive, his face alight with excitement and confusion. Dumbledore was already standing up, brushing himself off as he smiled encouragingly at Harry.

"Professor…I don't understand."

"Yes it is confusing Harry. After all the times you have encountered the followers of Lord Voldemort, have you once noticed the pretty little girl you saw in that memory?"

"No, and forgive me sir…it looked like Riddle was…protecting her?"

"Yes, he was always the type to be protective of the things he considered 'his'."

"Sir…?"

"You see Harry, when I said that there was more to Lord Voldemort than you had guessed, I mean that by watching his development we will see his greatest weakness."

"What would that be, sir?"

Dumbledore only smiled.