Tom Had It Tough

Mrs. Cole sprang nimbly to her feet, her legs still steady, not at all like someone who had drunk more than half a bottle of Gin.

She led Snape and the two Dumbledores out of the office again and up the stone stairs, shouting instructions to her assistants as she walked and not forgetting to loudly berate the children passing by.

The orphans all wore identical gray belted robes and were very neatly kept. They appeared to receive proper, attentive care, but their expressions held none of the liveliness children their age ought to have had.

"Though it isn't too bad here," Snape shrugged, "it can hardly be called a good place."

"Yes, Severus." Dumbledore nodded. "The atmosphere here is far too gloomy and oppressive."

"Since you were going to take Tom to Hogwarts anyway, why not simply let him grow up at the school?" Snape voiced the question in his heart.

"No one has ever done that. Hogwarts has its rules." Dumbledore spoke helplessly. "Young Wizards are only brought to school when they reach the proper age."

"Yes, orphans always seem doomed to grow up in misfortune." Snape muttered softly, and Number Four Privet Drive's cupboard beneath the Dursleys' stairs involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

Mrs. Cole led them around a corner on the third-floor landing and stopped outside the first room along a long corridor.

She raised her hand and knocked twice, then pushed the door open directly.

Snape and the two Dumbledores entered the room together, and Mrs. Cole closed the door behind them.

In the empty room, a handsome black-haired boy sat on a gray blanket, his long legs stretched out before him as he read a book.

"He's rather handsome," Snape commented quietly, "but he's fierce too."

Tom's eyes were wide as he glared viciously at the younger Dumbledore, his gaze filled with wariness and suspicion. "I don't believe you. She wants someone to come examine me, doesn't she? Tell me the truth!"

Then, perhaps to prove the existence of magic to Tom, and perhaps to intimidate him as well, the younger Dumbledore leisurely drew his Wand from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the battered wardrobe in the corner, and gave it a casual flick.

Tom's wardrobe immediately burst into flames...

At the younger Dumbledore's command, Tom was forced to open the wardrobe door.

He dumped the contents of a cardboard box onto his bed: a Yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a Tarnished Harmonica.

"At Hogwarts, we will not only teach you how to use magic, but also how to control it... The Ministry of Magic punishes lawbreakers more severely... Once you enter our world, you must obey our laws..."

"I don't need you... I'm used to doing things myself..."

"The Leaky Cauldron... Ask for the innkeeper, Tom... He has the same name as you..."

"I can talk to snakes..."

"Goodbye, Tom. We'll meet again at Hogwarts..."

A few seconds later, Snape and Dumbledore were once more floating lightly through the darkness before landing steadily back in the office in reality.

"Professor, Voldemort disliked the name 'Tom' that much." Snape sat before the Headmaster's desk and said to Dumbledore with a strange expression, "It really couldn't have been easy for the Tom who owns The Leaky Cauldron to survive until now."

"Your association is quite meticulous." The corner of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. "But that is not tonight's focus. What we should be considering now is what useful information we can obtain from this memory."

"Oh, all right, then let's change the subject." Snape adjusted his posture slightly. "Did you educate Tom by setting his wardrobe on fire?"

"I'm very sorry, Severus." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I was still too young then, and I believed too much in power."

"When did you begin to stop believing so much in power?" Snape pressed. "After 1945?"

"I remember the Chocolate Frog card said that you defeated the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945. Without power, I'm sure that couldn't have been done, could it?"

Dumbledore fell silent for a long time, staring directly at Snape.

Seeing that the Headmaster did not answer, Snape continued talking to himself. "Professor, if Tom had had parents from childhood, or had been raised by another loving Wizarding family, would he still have become like that later?"

"I don't know." Dumbledore sighed again. "No one can know the outcome of a hypothetical."

"Actually, I still have some doubts, or perhaps dissatisfaction." Snape frowned slightly and continued. "The Wizarding world's way of dealing with young Wizards is simply too crude and harsh.

"Children with magical talent may consciously or unconsciously use their magic, which may harm others.

"On the other hand, it may also lead to the young Wizards themselves being directly harmed, or indirectly bring about retaliation from Muggles. It has been this way for centuries, and it is still this way now. Is there truly no better solution?"

Dumbledore's long beard began trembling uncontrollably. He took several deep breaths, struggling to calm himself.

At that moment, behind Snape, Fawkes the phoenix let out a soft, pleasant cry, then fluttered his wings and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder, rubbing his head against Dumbledore's.

Snape suddenly noticed that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes seemed somewhat dim at the moment.

"Severus," Dumbledore finally said, "are you trying to help me deal with Voldemort, or are you trying to help him deal with me?"

"What are you saying?" Only then did Snape realize the impropriety in his words. He hurriedly played dumb, widening his eyes. "I don't understand what you mean. Of course I'm wholeheartedly working with you to deal with Voldemort!"

Dumbledore did not pursue the matter. "I think you should understand the importance of this memory now?"

"Yes, Professor." Snape sat up straight and replied, "Little Tom loved collecting trophies.

"Everything in that box was a trophy he had taken from others by various means. Perhaps we can assume that he would collect objects suitable as Horcrux vessels in the same way?"

"I agree. But judging from the diadem, I do not think Tom would choose ordinary trophies." Dumbledore said, "He had his own standards and would certainly choose the containers for his soul fragments carefully."

"Unfortunately, I was unable to obtain Mr. Bork's memories directly." As Dumbledore spoke, he raised his Wand, pressed its tip to his temple, and drew out a long silver thread. "But his scattered words are equally valuable."

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