On the 31st of August, Tom got up as early as he could.
He was so excited, He finally get to leave the orphanage.
When the first cock crew, he had already packed the little things he had in the orphanage and was set to take his leave.
One of the nuns escorted Tom to a bus station where he would take it to London.
The orphanage apparently covered his transportation to London, but aside that they left Tom with no money.
After 5 hours on the bus, Tom finally arrived in London, A little kid in a big city, He knew no one, nowhere, and only knew where he intended to arrive at, "Diagon Alley".
Tom walked around for a while but all he did was walk without a clear path to his destination.
He remembered what Dumbledore told him, "Firstly you would need to find Diagon Alley, A place not far from the reach of all wizards, all you need to do is just ask. LONDON IS A PLACE FILLED WITH MORE THINGS THAN IT MEETS THE EYES".
He knew it had to be somewhere in London, he decided to ask a policeman if he knew where Diagon alley was.
The policeman who has been in London for years and knew nothing of such taught he was trying to mess with him and told him.
"Hey kid, what do you intend on doing, trying to mess with my head right, trying to pull some prank right, beat it now before you regret it,".
He said angrily Tom was so scared, so he ran away.
After running as far as he could from the police officer, He came to a stop near a tiny grubby- looking pub, the sign above the door creaked in the wind, and the sound of laughter and murmured conversations spilled out onto the street but if you were not patient, you will not hear a thing.
The sign above told him its name "the Leaky Cauldron", It was so small that if he had not come to a stop there he would not have seen it.
He remembered what Dumbledore said again.
"Firstly you would need to find Diagon Alley, A place not far from the reach of all wizards, all you need to do is just ask. LONDON IS A PLACE FILLED WITH MORE THINGS THAN IT MEETS THE EYES".
He taught about it for a while, and then decided to go into the Leaky Cauldron.
The warm glow of the Leaky cauldron's fire pit beckoned Tom as he pushed open the door.
The bartender was the first to see the little boy.
He went to meet Tom, "And what is a little boy doing here all by himself" the bartender said.
"I am looking for Diagon Alley," Tom said "Can you tell me where it might be" Tom asked the bartender.
The old bartender put his glasses on to take a closer look at the boy, He was shocked to see the color of his eyes, and it was because it was different from any kind he has seen.
"Were you always born with this color?" The bartender said glaring at his eyeball.
"My eyes you mean, I think so" Tom said "I have had it for as long as I could recall" Tom told the bartender.
"Interesting, I have seen different colors in my line of work, blue, black, brown, but not green, you must be special boy," the bartender told Tom
The statement made everyone who was present in the Leaky cauldron gaze at Tom; they steered at him in an unusual manner.
"You said you are on your way to Diagon Alley right?" The bartender asked him.
"Yes do you know where it might be?" Tom asked.
"Follow Me," the bartender said.
Tom followed the bartender to the back, as they were going the people gazes were still on Tom.
They got to the back, there was nothing there aside a brick wall and a trash can, Tom taught the bartender was pulling a prank on him.
"Sir I said I was going to Diagon alley, there is nothing here," Tom said.
The bartender smiled, He brought out his wand and used it to tap the brick wall in a synchronized manner.
The brick wall he touch quivered---It wriggled--- in the middle a small hole appeared--- it grew wider and wider--- a second later they were facing an archway large enough for both Tom and the bartender to pass through.
"Tom, welcome to Diagon Alley," The bartender said.
Tom was shocked to see different magical things around; he was stunned for a while.
"Mister Tom you better be off now," The bartender said pulling Tom away from his hypnotized state.
"Thank you sir" Tom said as he walked off Tom stepped through the archway into Diagon Alley.
And for the first time in his life, he felt like he belonged somewhere.
The street bustled with witches and wizards, some chatting loudly while others hurried from shop to shop.
He saw cauldrons stacked high in windows, owls perched in wooden cages, and floating signs advertising potion ingredients.
It was overwhelming. Yet… it felt right.
His fingers instinctively tightened around the small key Dumbledore had given him.
He still did not fully understand what the professor had meant when he said, "Gringotts is the answer to that."
However, if he was going to start his new life, this seemed like the place to begin.
Tom got to the Gringotts Wizarding Bank, a towering snowy white building that towered above all the little shops.
Tom pushed open the large bronze doors of Gringotts, stepping inside cautiously.
The moment he entered, his eyes focused on the high ceilings and marble floors, the golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the bustling bank.
Behind long counters, goblins worked tirelessly—counting gold, inspecting parchment, and exchanging coins.
All their sharp, beady eyes flickered toward him as he stepped forward, and Tom could not help but feel like someone is measuring, examining, and judging him.
He approached an empty counter and placed the key on the surface.
"I was given this," he said simply. "I don't know what it's for."
The goblin picked up the key, inspecting it with long, bony fingers. His expression did not change, but Tom noticed the slight twitch of recognition in his sharp features.
"Follow me," the goblin instructed. Tom obeyed without question.
The ride down into Gringotts' underground tunnels was rough.
The cart twisted sharply around corners, the cold wind rushing against Tom's face, but he remained silent—watching every turn, every flickering torch, committing the path to memory.
Finally, they stopped in front of a medium-sized vault.
The goblin inserted the key into the lock, and with a deep rumbling sound, the vault door swung open.
Tom stepped inside. His eyes were immediately drawn to the neatly stacked coins—Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.
Not an overwhelming fortune, but enough.
Enough to buy what he needed. Then, he noticed something else.
Resting on top of one of the stacks was an envelope. Tom hesitated before picking it up.
The parchment was old, slightly yellowed, but the writing on it was neat and precise.
His name was written across the front in deep black ink. He turned it over and broke the seal.
Inside, in elegant looping handwriting, were just a few words: "Tom, This is for you—to help you begin your journey. You are not alone. - Albus. Dumbledore."
Tom stared at the letter. "Dumbledore wrote this," Tom said as his grip tightened slightly around the parchment.
"Why did Dumbledore not tell him about this?" he taught to himself.
He folded the letter carefully and slipped it into his pocket before turning back to the vault.
He quickly gathered some coins into a small pouch and stepped back out, watching as the goblin locked the vault once more.
As they rode back up, his thoughts lingered on the letter.
He did not know what to make of it.
After getting the money he needed, he left Gringotts.
He was contemplating on what to do first, where to go, and what to buy.
As Tom was strolling through Diagon Alley, mesmerized by everything he sees and everyone.
He stumbled at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasion shop.
He decided to get his robe first since the store was closer, so he went inside.
As he entered, he saw the room filled with materials of different kinds hanged all over the place.
Madam Malkin's the owner walked out from behind mesmerized by the sight of Tom, his unusual appearance, his eyes in particular.
"What brings you here boy?" she asked Tom.
"I need a robe" bringing his letter out from his pocket, "it says here, three sets of plain work robe black preferred".
"Oh Hogwarts I see, well let's get you fitted then".
Hours passed Tom had gotten almost all he needed all that remained was his wand.
He heard some kids chatting about their experience with their first wand, and displaying their wands out.
Tom who did not know where he could get a wand went over to where they were.
There were three kids, two boys and a girl.
The first boy in the middle had black hair and a mischievous smirk. He waved his wand lazily, conjuring a faint trail of golden sparks that fizzled into the air.
"Mine's ten inches, vine wood, unicorn hair," he boasted. "Got it from Ollivander's just this morning."
The other boy, shorter with a mop of sandy hair, chimed in, "Mine's redwood and dragon heartstring. They say it's rare."
The girl, silent at first, finally held out her own wand — a pale, smooth one with delicate carvings near the handle. "Beechwood. Phoenix feather core. The wand maker said it's... emotional."
Tom lingered near them, quiet and curious, hands buried in his pockets. The moment he spoke, their chatter halted.
"Where did you get them?" he asked, eyes locked on the sparks that still danced in the air.
The first boy raised an eyebrow. "You mean your parents didn't take you to Ollivander's?"
Tom ignored the sting in his words and repeated, firmer, "Where is it?"
The girl gave a hesitant smile. "Just down that way, past the apothecary. You'll see the sign."
Without another word, Tom walked off.
He made his way towards Ollivander's.
The shop stood crookedly between taller buildings, its windows clouded with dust and mystery.
As Tom stepped through the narrow door, a bell tinkled somewhere in the shadows.
The shop was silent. Wand boxes stretched from floor to ceiling like sleeping secrets stacked high, and the air carried the scent of old parchment, wood shavings, and something ancient.
Then, without warning, a man appeared.
Mr. Ollivander his pale eyes, misty and silver, studied Tom like an open book.
"Ah… Mr. Riddle," he said softly, as though he had known Tom would come.
Tom stiffened. "How do you know my name?".
"I remember every wand I've ever sold. In addition, every child who comes looking for one. Yours… has been long expected."
Ollivander glided to the shelves, speaking as he moved.
"The wand chooses the wizard, of course. Though… it is not always an easy choice."
He pulled out a wand and handed it to Tom. "Ebony and unicorn hair. Give it a wave."
Tom did. A vase exploded behind them.
"No, no, definitely not," Ollivander's said, snatching it back and already halfway to another shelf.
Several wands later—oak, mahogany, even a delicate reed wand that shuddered in Tom's grip— all rejected him.
None felt right. Then Ollivander stopped. His expression grew grave. He reached to a small, velvet-draped box on a high shelf.
As he lifted it down, a faint hum filled the air, like distant thunder or a whisper through stone.
He opened the box. Inside, resting on deep purple silk was a wand of yew — dark, elegant, and somehow… dangerous.
The moment Ollivander offered it; Tom felt a pull in his chest.
A thrill. Like touching lightning. He took it. The room reacted. A gust of air blew through the shop.
The shelves trembled. A single candle flickered wildly, and then burned brighter.
Ollivander's voice dropped to a murmur. "Yew. Thirteen and a half inches. Phoenix feather core."
He paused, gaze piercing. "Very rare… that core. Only one other wand in this world shares a feather from that same phoenix."
Tom gripped the wand tighter. "Whose?".
"A boy," Ollivander said quietly. "Born many years from now. Your paths may… cross. Someday."
Tom's jaw clenched. He did not like riddles.
But this wand — his wand — felt like it had been waiting for him.
As if part of him had finally clicked into place.
"How much?" he asked.
Ollivander's smiled, though there was unease behind it. "The wand has already chosen you, Mr. Riddle. The rest… is just formality."
Tom left the shop without another word, the box clutched under his arm and a storm brewing quietly behind his eyes.
The path to magic — real magic — had begun.
And something deep inside him stirred.
NESSGEEORIGINAL