Warnings: Half-dark, half-crack.

Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter belongs to J. and to whomever she's sold the rights to (which, sadly, doesn't include me).

This was initially an idea I posted in the Reddit thread "plot idea you know you'll never write." Ironic, I know. It will be posted as a series of short drabbles and snippets into the life of Tom Riddle, star pupil, future Transfigurations master, and president of the Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore Fan Club (the APWBDFC, for short).

Thanks to u/randy_randy_rando on Reddit for providing a title for this. Thanks to u/Raven3182 on Reddit for giving life to this idea, and check out their work in ffn playing with the same concept: Dumbledore's Man Through and Through, by Raven3182.

The Fiery Cabinet

The odd man – a doctor, he first thinks – walks in. He sputters some nonsense about special kids. Tom Rolls his eyes. He knows he's special, but not in the way these people –

Then he sets his cupboard on fire.

It's taken him four years of exhausting practice to make objects move, and while it is rewarding to drop them on Billy Stubbs' head, it can't hold a candle to Professor Dumbledore's power.

Like, fire.

Coolest. Thing. Ever.

Tom thinks he mentions something about not stealing other people's stuff, but he's too busy checking out the flames to pay proper attention. Like – who wouldn't?

The Professor's Fame

"Ah, yes. A great man, Dumbledore," Tom the bartender says as he dries a cup with a rag dirtier than Mrs Cole's floors. "Very powerful wizard."

Tom nods along, unsurprised the Professor's fame has reached the corners of every dingy little pub in Britain. After all, if Tom could set cupboards on fire – on fire – with a flick of his wand, he'd be just as admired.

The Professor told him to speak to the bartender to get to Diagon Alley. Tom follows as the old man taps the wall with his wand, and it opens to a world of magic. Ah, how wonderful, the sight of His World, full of people like him and his Professor.

Well, of people not-so-very-much-inferior to his Professor.

Tom walks into the Alley and quickly searches for a bookstore.

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore," says the chubby store attendant. "Great man, great man. You're interested, I see?"

Tom nods earnestly. If only he could be as cool as Professor Dumbledore… Stupid Billy Stubbs would learn some respect if Tom set his cupboard on fire.

"You'll want to check Nicholas Flamel's biography," the attendant tells him, "as well as Rise of the Modern Wizard, and Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, and –"

And Tom's pile of books grows taller than himself as his eyes grow almost too big for his head. He knew it. The Professor isn't like other wizards. He's in tons of books. Everyone knows of his greatness.

Ah, Tom will one day be just like him.

Thank God he's stolen enough money from Mrs Cole's purse to buy the whole lot.

The Best Wand

Ollivander talks on and on as his measuring tape moves on its own. Is the distance between his nostrils truly relevant? This middle-aged man must be a charlatan; where's the real shop owner? At one point, however, he does say something interesting.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Riddle, and –"

"Do you truly?" he interrupts, and Ollivander jumps in surprise at his sudden vehemence. "Did you sell Professor Dumbledore's?"

Ollivander frowns, but still answers.

"Ebony, fourteen inches, phoenix-feather core. As I was saying –"

"I want one just like that!"

"It doesn't work like this, Mr Riddle. Weren't you listening? The wand choses its master."

That's not how mastery works, he thinks. A master gets his stuff to do what he says. Tom doesn't like this man.

He brings out wand after wand and none is even remotely similar to what he's described. It's all yew and beech and aspen and dragon-heart string. Unicorn hair, he even gives him – Tom doesn't need a mastery in wandmaking to know he's not a unicorn kind of boy.

Finally, one of them feels warm and powerful and like he's coming home. Tom's never felt like that before.

"Interesting," Ollivander says. "Very interesting."

Tom sighs, and plays along. "What is?"

"You see, the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand only ever gave two. It also happens to be Albus Dumbledore's phoenix.

Tom almost faints at the knowledge. He knew he was special! He will be just like Professor Dumbledore. He's destined for this.

He's the Chosen One.

"How much for the other one?"

Who needs a cauldron and robes? He'll go without.

"Mr Riddle… It really doesn't work like this."

Yes, Tom definitely hates the man.

A/N: I'll keep on adding short scenes as I get the inspiration for them. Feel free to throw in your own ideas on the comment section.