Dumbledore had experienced many ups and downs throughout his long life. Though countless factors shaped these twists and turns, in the end, much could be attributed to coincidence. He was not the sort to judge a student simply because they had a familiar name or background.
His reverie lasted only a few seconds before he gathered himself. Tom was still seated on the bed, smiling politely. To mask his momentary distraction, Dumbledore stroked his beard and spoke kindly, "Mr. Riddle, I don't believe it's an honor it's more of a wonderful fate."
"We have a very busy Potions professor who was originally meant to be your guide," Dumbledore continued. "But he's currently overseeing a critical potion and cannot be spared, so this old man has been sent in his place."
A twinkle appeared in Dumbledore's eye as he added, "But you will certainly meet him. He is an absolute master of potions, and you'll benefit greatly from his knowledge."
Leaning forward, Dumbledore changed the subject, his tone thoughtful. "Actually, Mr. Riddle, you're an unusually special first-year."
He regarded Tom curiously. "My colleagues and I have welcomed many Muggle-born students to Hogwarts. You are the first I've known to so quickly accept the existence of magic. Usually, we have to demonstrate a trick or two, like this."
Snapping his fingers, Dumbledore sent the scattered books on Tom's desk flying into a neat stack, as if guided by invisible hands.
"Mr. Riddle, did you never suspect that magic might be a hoax?"
Without hesitation, Tom met Dumbledore's gaze and extended his hand. "Actually… magic has always been with me."
A gold-edged envelope slipped from between the pages of a thick Grimm's Fairy Tales on his shelf, floating smoothly into Tom's grasp. It was the Hogwarts acceptance letter he'd received the day before.
Tom turned the envelope over in his hands and explained, "Since I was six, I discovered I had some… unusual abilities. But I've never thought I was unique; surely there are others like me."
Dumbledore's applause was immediate. "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Such excellent control, Mr. Riddle."
He grew serious, "You are mistaken about one thing, though. Displaying conscious magic willful control even before receiving formal training is extremely rare, even in our world. Believe me, you will achieve great things with magic."
For a child's magic to erupt uncontrollably was normal. If there was no magical outburst, the child was likely a Squib. Such wild magic usually faded until, with a wand and proper training, it could be channeled effectively. Tom's effortless demonstration showed not only power but innate mastery.
Despite his happiness at Hogwarts gaining such a talented student, Dumbledore's heart was tinged with unease. Tom's experiences so closely mirrored another's namesake and fate intertwined, like a shadow from the past.
"Thank you for the compliment. I'm just luckier than most," Tom replied, bowing his head, though he felt a great wave of relief inside. The first challenge was over.
Tom was not an ordinary child. He was a traveler from another world. When his magic first erupted at age six, it had also triggered his memories from a previous life. At the time, Tom had no idea he'd landed in the world of Harry Potter not until he met a prodigy named Hermione Granger at a math competition in third grade. When he learned her father was a dentist, realization struck. This truly was the Wizarding World.
His own name, Tom Riddle, held deep and complicated meaning here. In the world he now inhabited, Tom Riddle was another name for Voldemort.
Tom had once thought about changing his name. But as a minor, that was nearly impossible; legal name changes in the UK required adulthood. Even if he tried, there was no guarantee Hogwarts wouldn't discover the truth about his identity—this was, after all, a world of magic.
So Tom Riddle accepted his name, with all the baggage it carried. Two days before, he had finally received the coveted Hogwarts letter. Yet he never expected Dumbledore himself not Hagrid, not Professor McGonagall to arrive and escort him into the wizarding world.
But he understood. Tom Riddle's name alone was enough to draw the attention of the greatest wizard of the age. Their shared backgrounds made it all the more urgent for Dumbledore to confirm for himself what sort of child this Tom truly was.
When Dumbledore questioned his lack of shock or doubt, Tom knew this was his first true test. He also knew that trying to feign surprise would not fool a man of Dumbledore's experience. Better, he had decided, to let talent speak for itself and offer honest answers.
Of course, it was a gamble: placing his trust in Dumbledore's renowned fairness and mercy, hoping not to be treated as a threat or subjected to Legilimency. If Dumbledore had suspected something darker, Tom was prepared to surrender and perhaps witness the headmaster's legendary power firsthand. But he'd taken the right risk, and Dumbledore responded as the legends said he would, with wisdom and restraint.
Dumbledore stood up, extending his arm in invitation. "Mr. Riddle, I didn't expect our meeting today to go so smoothly. It's still early shall we get everything you need for school? I must visit Diagon Alley myself today."
Tom smiled, grateful, and nodded. "Of course, sir. Please wait a moment."
He turned to his desk and withdrew a bundle of notes from the drawer, mostly five- and ten-pound denominations. In the UK, even after decades of inflation, the largest note was fifty pounds rarely seen in everyday transactions. Handing over a fifty at a corner shop might get a scolding, but smaller bills were practical and polite.
"Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore recalled, "for students with financial hardship, Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic have bursaries and grants."
Tom flashed a grin as he counted out the money twelve hundred pounds in total. "I don't think I qualify as needy, Professor," he replied, waving the cash with a playful gesture.