The Years of Riddle

Chapter One || Wools Orphanage, January 1937

Chapter One

Wools Orphanage, January 1937

            An odd looking man in a plum velvet suit was coming up the steps of Wools Orphanage – Gwyn Phi had spotted him from a block away. Funny looking, she thought to herself, I doubt he's here to adopt.

She raced from her window in her room and down two flights of stairs, peeking through the railings just as someone knocked at the door.

After a moment or two, one of the older girls wearing a scruffy apron opened the door.

"Good afternoon." The man said. He had a deep, important sounding voice. "I have an appointment with a Mrs. Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

"Oh," said the bewildered-looking girl, taking in the man's eccentric appearance. "Um . . . just a mo' . . . MRS. COLE!" she bellowed over her shoulder.

The distant voice of Mrs. Cole shouted something in response. The girl turned back to Dumbledore. "Come in, she's on 'er way."

The man stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Before the front door had closed behind him, a skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying toward them. Mrs. Marian Cole had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind, and she was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked toward the plum suited man.

". . . and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets — chicken pox on top of everything else," she said to no- body in particular, and then her eyes fell upon the man and she stopped dead in her tracks, looking as astonished as if a giraffe had just crossed her threshold.

"Good afternoon," he said, holding out his hand. Mrs. Cole simply gaped.
"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."
Mrs. Cole blinked. Apparently deciding that Dumbledore was not a hallucination, she said feebly, "Oh yes. Well — well then — you'd better come into my room. Yes."
She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office.

Gwyn raced down the stairs and into the closet beside it, peeking through the hole in the wall hidden behind the towels. Mrs. Cole's office was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eyeing him nervously.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future," said Dumbledore.

Tom! Gwyn thought excitedly. Could it really be? He'll be so excited! She itched to run up and alert her friend, but stayed put to learn more.

"Are you family?" asked Mrs. Cole.

 "No, I am a teacher," said Dumbledore. "I have come to offer Tom a place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"


"It is called Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.


"And how come you're interested in Tom?"


"We believe he has qualities we are looking for."


"You mean he's won a scholarship? How can he have done? He's never been entered for one."


"Well, his name has been down for our school since birth —"

"Who registered him? His parents?"
There was no doubt that Mrs. Cole was an inconveniently sharp woman. Apparently Dumbledore thought so too, for Gwyn now saw him picking up a piece of paper from Mrs. Cole's desktop.