I left the Personal Dimension after what had felt like over three months of relentless study.
In reality, less than an hour had passed within the orphanage.
My body still looked like that of an ordinary eleven-year-old, but my mind had changed dramatically.
Every thought was neatly organized behind layers of Occlumency, every memory carefully catalogued, and my understanding of Mind Magic had advanced to a level that would have been impossible for almost anyone else in such a short period.
I certainly wasn’t a master, but I had become competent enough to accomplish what I needed.
“There are no perfect plans,” I muttered to myself.
“Only plans with acceptable risks.” My first objective was obvious.
Erase the evidence.
I quietly stepped out into the orphanage hallway.
Most of the children were scattered throughout the building while Mrs.
Cole, the matron, was busy organizing paperwork in her office.
Nobody paid much attention to me.
That was exactly how I wanted it.
Over the years, Tom Riddle had made quite a reputation for himself.
Children feared him.
Some hated him.
Others simply avoided him altogether.
Through accidental magic he had frightened them, manipulated them, stolen treasured possessions, and occasionally punished anyone who annoyed him.
There had never been enough evidence to prove anything, but everyone knew Tom Riddle was responsible.
Unfortunately…
So did Dumbledore.
That reputation had to disappear.
Not completely.
Completely changing everyone’s memories would be suspicious in its own way.
Instead, I intended to carefully smooth away the rough edges.
I approached the first orphan while he was reading alone in one of the common rooms.
“Hello.” The boy looked up nervously before instinctively shrinking back.
“Tom…” His fear was genuine.
Good.
That meant my memories hadn’t lied.
I slowly raised my hand.
“Wandless magic really is inconvenient.” Concentrating carefully, I directed a tiny thread of magic toward his mind.
“Obliviate.” The spell wasn’t spoken aloud.
It barely functioned at all without a wand, and forcing it through sheer magical control was like threading a needle while blindfolded.
Sweat immediately formed across my forehead as I delicately erased several specific memories.
I didn’t touch anything else.
Then came the harder part.
“False Memory.” Instead of remembering me threatening him after stealing his favorite toy, he would remember me finding it after another child had misplaced it.
The emotional imprint remained nearly identical, but the cause had changed entirely.
I released the spell and took a small step backward.
The boy blinked several times.
Then smiled.
“Thanks again for helping me find my toy last month, Tom.” “…You’re welcome.” Success.
Not perfect.
I could still sense tiny imperfections within the fabricated memory, but unless someone deliberately examined his mind in detail, nobody would ever notice.
One by one, I repeated the process.
Every orphan.
Every incident.
Every cruel prank.
Every act of intimidation.
Not all of them disappeared.
That would have been unrealistic.
Children argued.
They fought.
They teased one another.
Instead, I transformed myself from the terrifying child everyone feared into the slightly strange but intelligent boy who occasionally kept to himself.
Several hours later I finally stood outside Mrs.
Cole’s office.
She would be the most important person.
If Dumbledore asked about me, she would provide the first impression.
I knocked politely.
“Come in.” Mrs.
Cole barely looked up from her paperwork.
“What is it, Tom?” I closed the door behind me.
“I’m sorry to bother you.” She blinked.
That sentence alone was probably enough to surprise her.
While she looked down to organize another document, I quietly concentrated.
This would require much greater precision.
Mrs.
Cole possessed years of memories involving me.
Carelessly changing them could cause serious inconsistencies.
Slowly…
Very slowly…
I slipped into her mind.
Unlike the children, an adult mind possessed significantly greater resistance.
Every modification required delicate precision.
The memories of missing possessions?
Gone.
The memories of frightened children accusing me?
Adjusted.
The strange incidents she had always suspected were somehow connected to me?
Given entirely mundane explanations.
By the time I withdrew, my head was pounding.
I nearly stumbled out of the room.
“I’m definitely not doing that again today.” Changing the memories of an adult was several times more exhausting than altering a child’s.
Still…
Mission accomplished.
Mrs.
Cole smiled warmly.
“Thank you for helping clean the dining room earlier, Tom.” I nodded politely.
“It was no trouble.” Leaving the office, I let out a quiet breath.
“I really am nowhere near a master.” If someone like Dumbledore or Grindelwald attempted what I had just done, they probably could have rewritten entire lifetimes without leaving so much as a ripple.
My own alterations were crude by comparison.
Functional, but crude.
Fortunately, I wasn’t trying to fool legendary Mind Magic experts.
I only needed to fool ordinary people.
And Dumbledore?
I seriously doubted he would begin casually reading the minds of every orphan and caretaker in the building.
That wasn’t the sort of man he was.
He valued privacy too much, and more importantly, there would no longer be any reason for suspicion.
The next step was even simpler.
I returned everything.
Every toy.
Every book.
Every marble.
Every small treasure Tom had quietly stolen over the years.
Some I left beneath beds.
Some I returned to drawers.
Others mysteriously appeared exactly where their owners remembered leaving them.
Several children looked genuinely confused when they discovered belongings they had believed lost forever.
I couldn’t help smiling.
“This really is convenient.” By evening, the atmosphere within the orphanage had already begun changing.
Children no longer hurried away the instant I entered a room.
A few even thanked me.
Mrs.
Cole praised me for helping wash dishes.
I volunteered to clean several tables.
I helped one younger child carry a heavy bucket.
None of it was difficult.
It was simply acting.
After all…
Dumbledore only needed to meet this version of Tom Riddle once.
After that?
Well…
Once I was safely enrolled at Hogwarts and Dumbledore had formed his first impression…
I could worry considerably less about maintaining the performance.
For now, however, I intended to be exactly what everyone expected a model orphan to be.
Quiet.
Polite.
Helpful.
Obedient.
I smiled innocently as I watched several children laughing nearby.
“Let’s make sure Professor Dumbledore meets the nicest boy in the orphanage.”