The conversation with Tom in one of corridors of Hogwarts had been a turning point, a silent shift in the course of his destiny and my own. The memory of his face, a mask of profound shock and a flicker of unadulterated hope, had stayed with me. My magical resonance sensing still registered the echo of his tumultuous emotions, a raw, chaotic storm that was slowly, tentatively settling. I had made a promise, and now I had to follow through. The path to saving Tom Riddle from himself began with a simple, bureaucratic formality: taking on his guardianship.
The next morning, I arrived at Headmaster Dippet's office via Portkey, the urgency of the situation demanding speed over stealth. Dippet, a kind but somewhat ineffectual wizard, was waiting for me. On his desk was the slip of parchment I had given Tom the day before. The old wizard's face was a mixture of confusion and profound relief.
"Lord Starborn," he said, his voice a soft, tremulous whisper. "Tom… he came to me this morning, with this. He… he told me of your offer. He was so... quiet. So contained. But I could see the hope in his eyes. I... I did not think anyone would ever offer to take on the guardianship of a boy like him. He is... a difficult child. A powerful child. But he is also a boy who has known nothing but loneliness and fear."
"He is a boy who deserves a chance, Headmaster," I replied, my voice steady, my gaze unwavering. "And I intend to give him one. What are the legal requirements? I want to have this finalized as soon as possible."
"The requirements are simple, but they are also absolute," Dippet said, his gaze fixed on me with a newfound respect. "A formal guardianship contract must be drafted and signed by both parties, with the Headmaster of Hogwarts as the official witness. The contract must stipulate that you, as his guardian, will be responsible for his education, his well-being, and his financial needs until he reaches the age of magical maturity. It is a lifelong commitment, Lord Starborn. A very serious one."
"I am aware, Headmaster," I said, a cold, unwavering certainty in my voice. "I am prepared to make that commitment. Please, draft the contract. I want to have this finalized today. I do not want him to spend another night in that Muggle orphanage, especially not with a war raging on."
Dippet nodded, his face a mask of profound relief. He took out a fresh piece of parchment and a self-inking quill, and with a series of intricate, flowing magical gestures, he began to draft the contract. The process was long and meticulous, a complex web of legal jargon and magical incantations. I sat patiently, my mind a whirl of thoughts, but my face a calm, placid mask. This was not just a legal formality. This was a magical ritual, a binding of our fates, a silent, unseen battle for a boy's soul.
Finally, Dippet finished. He handed me the parchment. The words, written in a clear, flowing script, were a solemn vow: "I, Marcus Alistair Starborn, Lord of the House of Starborn, do hereby, of my own free will, agree to take on the guardianship of Tom Marvolo Riddle, providing for his education, his well-being, and his financial needs until he reaches the age of magical maturity. I do so with the full knowledge of my duties and responsibilities as his legal guardian."
I signed it, my signature a bold, sweeping flourish. Then, with a flicker of his wand, Dippet summoned Tom from his common room. The boy, when he arrived, was a different person. The cold, cynical mask was gone, replaced by a quiet, almost fragile vulnerability. He looked at me, then at the parchment on the desk, his eyes wide with a profound, almost terrifying, disbelief.
"Tom," Dippet said, his voice gentle. "Lord Starborn has drafted the guardianship contract. He is prepared to sign it. All you need to do is to sign it as well. And you will no longer be an orphan. You will have a home. A magical home."
Tom looked at the parchment, then at me. His hands were trembling, his face a mask of warring emotions. The cynicism, the doubt, the fear, were all there. But so was the hope. The desperate, agonizing hope that had been born in his heart the day before. He took the quill, and with a hand that was shaking slightly, he signed his name. His signature, a looping, elegant script, was a stark contrast to my own bold flourish. It was the signature of a boy who was still learning to stand on his own two feet.
As soon as he signed it, the parchment glowed with a soft, golden light, a silent, magical confirmation of the contract. Dippet, his face radiating a profound relief, smiled. "It is done. Tom, you are no longer an orphan. You are a ward of Lord Starborn. You have a new home."
Tom looked at me, his face still a mask of surprise, his eyes wide with a profound, almost terrifying, disbelief. He was a boy who had been given a gift he had never dared to dream of. He was a boy who was no longer alone.
"I will take him with me now, Headmaster," I said, my voice steady. "I will get him settled in his new home. You will be kept informed of his progress. And I will ensure that he continues to receive the best magical education available."
Dippet nodded, a profound sense of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, Lord Starborn. You are doing a great service to this boy. You are giving him a second chance. I pray that you will be able to help him find his way."
I walked out of the Headmaster's office, with Tom following silently behind me. The boy, who had been defined by his solitude, was now a part of my life. The boy, who had been on a path to darkness, was now on a new, uncertain journey. I did not speak to him as we made our way to my Apparition point. I let him have his silence. I let him have his space. I let him process the seismic shift that had just occurred in his life.
We Apparated to Castle Starborn, the air crackling with the familiar, comforting energy of my wards. Tom, when he arrived, was a different person. His face, which had been a mask of surprise and disbelief, was now a mask of awe. He stared at the ancient stone walls of my castle, at the sprawling, manicured grounds, at the faint, shimmering light of my wards, his eyes wide with a profound, almost terrifying, wonder. He was a boy who had been living in a Muggle orphanage, and he had just arrived in a magical sanctuary. He was home.
"Tom," I said, my voice gentle, "welcome to your new home. This is Castle Starborn. It is a place of magic, of history, and of knowledge. It is a place where you will be safe. It is a place where you will be able to learn, to grow, to become the wizard you are destined to be."
He did not reply. He simply stared, his eyes wide with a profound, almost terrifying, awe. He was a boy who had been given a gift he had never dared to dream of. He was a boy who was no longer alone.
I led him inside, through the vast, echoing halls of my castle. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and ancient magic. The castle was silent, but it was not empty. It was filled with the silent hum of my wards, the subtle magic of a thousand years of history. It was a place of power, of knowledge, and of a quiet, unyielding peace.
I led him to his new quarters, a large, spacious room that I had prepared for him. The room was simple, but it was also elegant. A large, four-poster bed was in the center, a large desk and a comfortable armchair by the window, and a large, full-length mirror on the wall. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with books on magical history, on ancient warding, on advanced magical theory. It was a room that was designed for a wizard, for a boy who was destined for greatness.
He walked into the room, his footsteps silent on the thick carpet. He ran his hand along the books, his eyes wide with a profound, almost terrifying, hunger for knowledge. He sat in the armchair, his gaze fixed on the window, on the sprawling, manicured grounds of my castle. He was a boy who had been living in a Muggle orphanage, and he had just arrived in a magical sanctuary. He was home.
"Tom," I said, my voice soft. "This is your room. It is your sanctuary. It is a place where you will be safe. It is a place where you will be able to learn, to grow, to become the wizard you are destined to be. You are a ward of the House of Starborn now. And as a ward of this house, you have access to everything that this house has to offer. My library, my dueling chambers, my private laboratory. It is all yours. You are a part of this house now."
He looked at me, his face a mask of disbelief. "A part of this house? I... I am a Muggle-born orphan. I... I am not worthy of this."
"You are not a Muggle-born orphan, Tom," I said, my voice a solemn promise. "You are a wizard. And you are a wizard of immense power. And you are a wizard who is destined for greatness. And you are a wizard who deserves a home. A magical home. A home that will protect you. A home that will give you a second chance."
He stared at me, his face a mask of warring emotions. The cynicism, the doubt, the fear, were all there. But so was the hope. The desperate, agonizing hope that had been born in his heart the day before. He was a boy who had been given a gift he had never dared to dream of. He was a boy who was no longer alone.
"Thank you," he said, his voice a hoarse, almost inaudible whisper. "I... I do not know what to say."
"You do not need to say anything, Tom," I replied, a faint, sad smile on my face. "You just need to be. You just need to be a boy. You just need to be a wizard. And you just need to be safe. That is all I ask of you."
I left him in his new room, a boy who had just been given a lifeline, a boy who was now a part of my life. I walked down the hall, a sense of profound purpose filling my heart. The work of saving Tom Riddle was just beginning. It would be a long, arduous, and difficult journey. But I had taken the first step. And I knew, with a certainty that was as cold and hard as a diamond, that it was the right one. The unseen hand, having found its first, most crucial target, was now ready to move from the shadows into the light. The fight for Tom's soul was about to begin. I had given him a home, and in doing so, I had given myself a purpose. A purpose that was more important than any war, any Wizengamot session, or any magical prophecy. I had given myself a chance to save a boy, and in doing so, to save the world.