So, as you are probably aware, I am not JK Rowling. This is sad for me, but probably good news for the entire Harry Potter fandom.

Please read & review! Feedback (even if it's why you're not going to read to the next chapter) is useful.

Because before there was Lord Voldemort,

There was only Tom Riddle.

1

Tom stood quietly, looking at the platforms. He refused to panic, but he did mentally rebuke himself for not thinking to check how you got to platform 9 3/4. He'd intentionally been early: every minute he spent in this world - his world – was one less he had to spend at the orphanage. He supposed that he'd just have to wait, and keep an eye out for any other witches and wizards.
"Um, excuse me?" He glanced to his left, scarcely taking in the figure, focusing on the trunk, and cat in a cage. A witch.
"Yes?" She nodded at his trunk.
"I think you might be going to the same school as me? Train leaves at eleven, right?" Despite his natural distrust, Tom was impressed. He'd already checked the timetables: there were no other trains leaving at eleven. It was a very neat way of checking that he really was going to Hogwarts, one that he'd been thinking of using himself when the opportunity arose. He nodded.
"Eleven o'clock, platform nine and three quarters." She smiled.
"The platform was supposed to open at nine thirty. I don't think that anyone else is here yet, though. I'm going to wait on the other side." Tom glanced at the clock. Thirty-five past. He picked up the handle of his trunk, and followed half a step behind her.
"Are you a first year too?" He nodded. "Brilliant. I'm Penny Rooks, by the way."
"Tom Riddle." She stopped by the barrier, and glanced around.
"I'm not sure how to do this. The landlord at the Leaky Cauldron said you just walk through, but I think people might notice." Tom had spent a lot of time manipulating people, and he knew immediately that she was acting. Unusually, he felt embarrassed. She'd realised he didn't know how to get onto the platform, and was telling him in a way that pretended he already knew.
"Lean against it, as though we were talking." She nodded, pony tail bobbing, and they leant against the wall, passing straight through it.
Tom ignored her for a few minutes, drinking in the platform. A gleaming red train was already there, with bustling workers dashing around, unlocking carriages, stocking up the food trolleys.
"The Hogwarts' express." Penny was staring at the machine as avidly as he was. She grinned at him suddenly, and pointed to nearby benches. "I'm going to wait over there until they let people on. You?"
"Same, I guess."
They sat, and he was pleasantly surprised to realise that she didn't expect him to talk. Almost immediately, her nose disappeared into a spell book. He got out one of his own school books, and began reading it.

"You can put your things on the train now, dears. You two were early, weren't you?"
Tom didn't appreciate being called 'dear', but smiled politely and thanked the woman. Penny stretched as she stood up.
"That's the best bit of being early. You can pick the best seats." For just about the first time in his life, Tom genuinely didn't want to find a separate compartment. He was starting to feel nervous. For all that he knew his father must be a wizard, he wasn't quite certain what other witches and wizards would be like. Penny was obviously muggle-born, or possibly a half-blood like him. Idly, he wondered why she'd come to the platform alone, but didn't ask. Without discussion, they both stayed in the carriage while the other students arrived on the platform. Tom watched the platform through the window, listening to the snatches of conversation that came through. He was practised at picking up information that way, and he noticed Penny watching the other arrivals too.

He spent the train journey in much the same way, discreetly listening to the conversation of the people sharing their carriage while reading one of his books. He picked up on a fair few pointers - they were all second years - which boosted his confidence. Before even arriving at the castle he knew which were the soft teachers, which to look out for, and a few shortcuts.

Tom stared at the ceiling.
Slytherin. He'd read all about Hogwarts, of course, locking himself in his small room at the orphanage, and he'd decided immediately that Slytherin was the place for him. But to have the hat perch on his head for mere seconds, long enough only for it to whisper that 'just where you belong…a real thirst for power, the cunning to grasp it…and with that blood...'
It was the strongest lead he'd had to finding his father other than his name.

And, of course, there'd been the unofficial test. Nothing had been said, of course. But he'd felt everyone in the common room silently sizing up the new first years. Snide comments, a few prank spells, and reactions monitored. He'd watched his year mates, weighing them up for himself, and relied on his own manipulation to give a good impression. Sly responses, a quick flick of the wand with a very basic shielding spell – his first real magic, not just small flashes of power! - and he'd earned himself a reputation. Tom smiled to himself, truly happy for the first day of his life. Whenever he closed his eyes he could see the outline of the castle over the lake, just as it had appeared when he first arrived.

Home at last.