Chapter 12: The Visitor
August 30, 1938
Tuesday
August was inexorably coming to an end, as was the illness of Billy Stubbs and Eric Walley. The boys surprisingly came down with a severe bout of sudden "chicken pox" just the day after the accident with the cute bunny. Martha took good care of the boys, but they didn't get better until a week later. For some reason, the usual treatments didn't help much.
It was still warm outside during the day, but in the evening, it was already quite cold. It was pitch black outside the window after lights out, and Irene and I tried to seize every moment of the day, just to enjoy it. Today she came to my room just after lunch, having snatched the chess sets beforehand. It was raining cold outside, so leaving the orphanage was obviously a bad idea. And now we were sitting comfortably, making cunning plans for the future, scrutinizing the pieces on the board.
Somebody's speech was heard in the corridor. Irene fidgetily shoveled the black and white chessboards into a box and tossed it into the closet to the right by the entrance. The footsteps approached inexorably, and in the next instant the door swung open with an unpleasant creak.
"'Tom? You've got a visitor." Noticing Irene, Mrs. Cole added, "Irene, leave the room."
Irene nodded, heading to the table to pick up the book we'd found in town, and now we were taking turns reading it. The book was lying completely unattended on the table of a sidewalk café, and we felt it was our duty to keep it from perishing in the blazing sun. Of course, a certain gentleman in a strict suit with a cigar in his teeth, coming out into the street to his table, looked around with a bewildered look for a long time... Apparently, he had lost something. But we were already quite far away and did not want to ask about his sorrow.
A gray-haired, bearded man in a suit appeared in the doorway. His face was already wrinkled, but it was still unclear how old he was.
"How do you do, Tom?" he said and glanced around the room.
When Irene heard the voice, she turned around sharply. Her eyes were all glazed over, which made me wonder if she was scared. Did they know each other? But the mess of thoughts in my head was packed and tied in a tight knot. There was no need to be overly emotional. I looked at the man carefully and answered:
"Hello."
After making sure everything was quiet, Mrs. Cole disappeared into the hallway. He, on the other hand, spoke in a good-natured and friendly tone:
"Can we talk in private?"
For the first time in eleven years I had visitors. I was a little embarrassed, which made my question sound a bit of a challenge:
"Who are you?"
"I am Professor Dumbledore."
"I'm Tom, and this is Irene." I nodded toward the girl, not taking my gaze off the stranger.
"Tom, this conversation is very important to you," Dumbledore seemed to insist that Irene leave.
There was an invisible storm cloud in the room, and that cloud was Irene. I could feel with my entire being that from the moment Dumbledore appeared, she was tense, and it was getting worse by the second. The next moment, the light bulb under the ceiling began to blink. Irene rushed away from the table.
And I froze, not knowing what she was going to do in the next instant. Her movements were sharp, her gait firm. Once she was exactly in the middle of the room, between me and Dumbledore, she declared:
"You want to separate us. You want to take him away. Don't you?"
Dumbledore looked at the light bulb. His eyes were filled with surprise, and then a faint smile touched his face.
"Well, Irene... now I see that there really is no need for you to leave us alone with Tom. You see..." The professor walked into the room and sat down on the bed. "You're special."
Irene was breathing deeply, trying to get her emotions under control, while I sat on the chair by the table. But I did not have much confidence in the unexpected guest.
"You're a doctor, aren't you?" I asked him without any offence. There was no point in beating around the bush.
"No, I am a teacher," said Dumbledore quietly.
"I don't believe you. Mrs. Cole wants me looked at. Everyone in this orphanage thinks I'm... Different."
I took over the baton of hypocrisy and distrust from Irene and clearly felt a wave of indignation rising inside me. Well, of course! Pieces of the puzzle fell into place. It was the rabbit! Mrs. Cole called the asylum and decided to just turn me in like some kind of... Animal.
Irene got suspiciously quiet. She remained standing in the middle of the room, looking at the professor with an attentive eye.
"Maybe they're right."
"I am not mad!" A wave of anger coursed through my body.
"You, and apparently your friend, are supposed to be at Hogwarts, and Hogwarts is not an asylum."
There was a tense silence in the room. I stared into Dumbledore's blue eyes, trying to find confirmation that he was lying. He was trying to trick me into the asylum. But it won't go so smoothly!
"There's nothing wrong with me." I jumped up out of my chair, unable to contain the anger and resentment that suddenly overwhelmed me. Who the hell was he?!
"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic." Dumbledore insisted, still confident and calm.
"Magic?" Something deep inside responded to the word I heard.
"You can do extraordinary things, Tom. So can your friend." His inquisitive gaze went to Irene.
"It's ... it's magic, what I can do?"
"Yes. What your friend just did. What about you, Tom? What can you do?"
"All sorts!" A treacherous blush appeared on my cheeks. For the first time in my life, someone was asking me about my special skills. I felt fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them... I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can hurt them if they treat me or something that belongs to me badly if I want to."
My legs were trembling. I stumbled back to the table and sat down on the chair again, staring at my hands, my head bowed as though in prayer. A slow wave of awareness came stronger and stronger. Feeling Irene's gaze, I raised my head, and our eyes, like a reflection, met.
"I knew we were different," I whispered. "I knew we were special. Always, I knew there was something."
"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching us intently. "You are wizards."
My heart started thumping.
Wizards.
What we can do is magic... It means that our dreams and fantasies are destined to come true. Of course, they are. How else to explain all these amazing things! After all, everything has always been on the surface...
A sense of euphoria consumed me both physically and mentally. It seemed as if I was about to soar with joy. But this was no time for sentimentality! I was in control of my emotions. I pulled myself together and regained my sanity.
"So, you're a wizard, too?" I intended to check on the old man. If we really are wizards, he's probably just a stupid doctor.
"Yes, I am."
"Prove it," I demanded imperiously.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, and then he said:
"If, as I take it, you and your friend are accepting your place at Hogwarts, then you will address me as "Professor" or "sir"."
"Yes, sir," I didn't let him finish his meaningless sentence. Stop ranting, old man! Prove to me that this isn't an illusion!
The next second Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. My whole gut was filled with amazement and admiration at the same time. I know how to make fire, too... But an entire wardrobe was engulfed in flaming tongues in an instant! It was incredible! Irene and I looked at each other. Her gaze mirrored the same emotion: fear, and admiration. There is someone stronger than me...
"Where can we get one of them?" Irene asked quietly. Her eyes danced in the reflection of a burning wardrobe or in the greedy desire for a wand. My heart seemed to have stopped beating. I had already imagined holding such a magical attribute in my hand and doing great things.
"All in good time," said Dumbledore. Something in the wardrobe rattled softly but insistently. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."
There was the chess set that Irene had taken from the common room this morning. For a moment I felt uncomfortable at the thought of that old man going and telling Mrs. Cole everything. But it was impossible to show fear, so I walked confidently to the corner of the room. The wooden doors swung open. At the bottom of the wardrobe was a chess set that the fire had not touched, and underneath it was another small box of things I had taken from the kids. They clattered insistently, as if trying to shout that they didn't belong to us. My fingers trembled a little, giving away my excitement, but still I got them. After all, if it's all true... If it's all true! I don't care about the chess and the trinkets!
"It's not your objects," Dumbledore said, and I broke out into a sweat. "Thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts. You will return them to their owners with your apologies."
"Yes, sir," Irene said. "I've got the chess set, and I'll take it back."
I nodded silently, letting him know that I would do the same with the other little box.
"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have – inadvertently, I am sure – been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic – yes, there is a Ministry – will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."
"Yes, sir," we answered in unison.
"Irene, I have one question... Are you Tom's sister?"
"No, sir... I don't know who I am..." Irene looked down.
"Very interesting..."
Well, at least Irene and I can finally leave this disgusting place together. But what do we do next? There must be a tuition... Irene doesn't know who she is at all... Though here and now that problem wasn't as important as getting started.
"We don't have any money," I said, thinking over the options for the situation, because I couldn't just ignore this nuance.
"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on second-hand, but…"
"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Irene. And I took the heavy money-bag, and was now examining a fat gold coin.
"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore.
"You're coming with us?" I asked, looking up.
"Certainly, if you…"
"We don't need you,' said Irene. "We're used to doing things for ourselves, we go round London on our own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley – sir?" she added, catching Dumbledore's eye.
Dumbledore handed the envelope containing the list of equipment, and, after telling exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage he said, "You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you – non-magical people, that is – will not. Ask for Tom the barman – easy enough to remember, as he shares your name."
I gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly.
"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"
"There are a lot of Toms," I muttered and then remembered Irene saying that she would give me the most powerful name... And now there was every reason to do so. Then, as though I could not suppress the question, as though it burst from me in spite of myself, I asked, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."
"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.
"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," I said, more to myself than Dumbledore. "It must've been him."
"So, when we've got all ur stuff – when do we come to this Hogwarts?" Irene interrupted my thoughts and reasoning, which really shouldn't have been said out loud.
"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there, too, but it's one... I thought you were the only one here, Tom," he glanced thoughtfully at Irene again. "But that's all right. I'll make sure there's no trouble."
I nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand. I've never had an adult hold out his hand before... And this Dumbledore is not some muggle, but definitely a powerful wizard! I was so impressed and somewhat frightened by the wardrobe in fire that I ventured to say something that always made me particularly awe-inspiring and proved that I was no slouch either, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips – they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"
Irene stared indifferently at the two of us, not saying that she could do it, too.
"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of." Then the handshake broke up. Dumbledore walked towards the exit. "Goodbye, Tom and Irene, see you at Hogwarts." He was about to leave when he turned around again. "What's the young miss's last name?"
"I don't know," Irene answered quietly.
Here's another problem. Damn it! But it's nothing compared to what we've just found out. We'll figure it out somehow.
"Interesting," the professor said quietly, giving her a curious look.
As soon as the door slammed shut, Irene and I immediately threw ourselves into each other's arms. The embrace was so strong that she squeaked in pain, and there was a pleasant ache of pressure in my chest.
"Irene, I always knew it!" I inhaled the tart aroma of her hair. It smelled like... Spicy ginger and bitter chocolate...? "I always knew it."
"Tom, I'm so glad."
"Soon, very soon, we'll be out of here. Do you hear? We won't have to put up with this filthy place anymore... What did Dumbledore call them? Muggles... We won't have to put up with those bloody Muggles anymore."
"Yes, Tom." She broke free of my grip. "I'll take the chess set away."
"Irene, what about the last name?"
"Tom, I..."
"Do you remember how you got here?"
She put her head down and shook it negatively.
"I only remember the bridge and the cathedral..."
"I'll think of something!" I patted her shoulder encouragingly.
"It's funny how things work, Tom." Irene looked straight into my eyes. Her pale face was haggard, making her look like she'd been up all night. Could she really be a vampire? Since magic wasn't fiction, maybe vampires were real.
"How do you mean?"
"You've lived here longer than me, but I am, having only appeared here at the beginning of summer, completely nameless," she grinned.
"Hey, it doesn't matter. The important thing is that we get out of here. Okay?"
Irene perked up and hurriedly grabbed the chessboard off the bed and ran to the door. She turned around again on the threshold, her face shining with a happy smile, and I couldn't help smiling back. Some kind of excitement overflowed from within. Irene cheerfully shook the chessboard and disappeared into the hallway of Wool's orphanage.
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