Tom didn't possess any extraordinary "cheats." Nevertheless, perhaps due to having lived two lives, his memory was notably sharper than most though not photographic, it was well above average. He also had a strong ability to learn and adapt.
Competitions aren't unique to students where he came from; the same spirit thrives in British schools. Through a mix of prize money from contests, school and government subsidies, and even appearance fees from local TV stations, Tom managed to accumulate a modest fortune on his own. The bills in his drawer were merely for daily use he kept a much larger deposit of forty thousand pounds earning interest safely at the bank.
When Dumbledore discovered just how enterprising Tom was, he could only smile wryly and offer a sincere thumbs-up in admiration.
After bidding farewell to Ms. Armand, Tom left the children's home with Dumbledore. If it had been any other child, Ms. Armand might have worried, but Tom's maturity and self-sufficiency since childhood allowed her to relax. Perhaps Dumbledore had worked a little magic to reassure her, but she felt at ease nonetheless.
Dumbledore chose not to use any magical shortcuts as they left. Instead, savoring the rare sunny day, he walked alongside Tom toward the nearest train station, asking gentle questions like a kindly elder interested in the youth's well-being.
Tom answered everything candidly. He told how he'd been left as an infant at the children's home his parents had only given him a name before abandoning him. The next he heard of them was in a news report that both had died in a plane crash. They left nothing but debts, though thankfully, he was not responsible for paying them.
Dumbledore listened, a slight frown crossing his brow. Such stories, sadly, were not uncommon in the Muggle world. Sometimes, people who found themselves unable or unwilling to raise a child simply left that child to the government's care, while they moved on with their lives.
Sighing inwardly, Dumbledore turned the conversation. "I noticed the other children seemed rather wary of you at the home," he mused.
The memory flashed in Tom's mind Seth, still obediently hitting the sandbag as they left.
Tom stopped, looked up at Dumbledore, and spoke with surprising frankness. "Do you know, Professor, what the greatest fear of an orphan is?"
Dumbledore leaned in, listening with gentle curiosity.
"It's the fear of being found out of others noticing your weakness. If they sense you're easy to intimidate, they'll make it their business to do so. The best defense is to be strong, to show strength first."
Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly at the revelation. His beard twitched, but Tom quickly clarified, "Of course, I'm not bullying Seth. He's my friend I'm teaching him self-defense. He'll be starting secondary school soon. He needs to know how to protect himself."
Dumbledore thought of Seth's determined, if slightly pained, expression as he followed Tom's instructions. He could understand the logic, and it lifted his spirits a little. He smiled and said, "I think you might have the makings of a fine Hufflepuff so long as you promise not to bully anyone."
"Hufflepuff? What's that?" Tom asked, curiosity piqued.
"It's one of the four houses at Hogwarts. Each is distinguished in its own way…" Dumbledore began to explain.
Their long shadows stretched farther and farther, gradually disappearing down Elm Avenue as they made their way toward London's magical heart.
After an hour and a half of winding through the city by train and then by Underground, they finally arrived at their destination: the infamous Leaky Cauldron, gateway to Diagon Alley. The pub was mostly empty—three in the afternoon wasn't a busy hour—just a few patrons lingering at their tables.
The moment the regulars spotted Dumbledore, they sprang to their feet in a clumsy show of respect. The barkeeper, a hunched man polishing glasses with a perpetually grimy rag, hurried over, beaming.
"Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore!"
"Good afternoon, Tom. Ah, there's a new Tom with me today." Dumbledore grinned. "Mr. Riddle, this is Tom, the landlord. Isn't it delightful? Tom, this Mr. Riddle is a new Hogwarts student."
The publican chuckled heartily. "Tom by name and Tom by fame! A pleasure, young Tom. You're in for a treat today."
He added warmly, "Stop in for a butterbeer after your shopping I'll set aside a fresh, non-alcoholic one for you."
"Excellent suggestion," Dumbledore agreed. "We'll see you soon, Tom."
With a laugh and a wave, they crossed the bar to the back courtyard. There, Dumbledore produced his knobby wand and demonstrated the entrance to Diagon Alley, tapping the bricks in a specific sequence.
"Three up, two across…"
The bricks shifted, parting with a grinding sound to reveal a bustling street lined with magical shops and a throng of witches and wizards.
Tom's eyes widened in wonder. "A magical world…"
Dumbledore beamed. "Yes, the magical world. And our first stop is the most important: money."
They crossed the busy alley, moving toward the gleaming white front of Gringotts Bank. As they passed, people constantly paused to greet Dumbledore with waves and bows.
At Gringotts' imposing entrance, two goblins bowed deeply. One stepped forward, acting as their personal guide, and led them inside to the main counter, ready to help them exchange currency and begin Tom's adventure.