March 30, 1938

Something akin to fate struck eleven year old Catalina Blanchard on a spring day in London, 1938. Just over a month earlier she had received her long-awaited letter to attend Hogwarts, but the next visit she took to Diagon Alley with her mother was not for school supplies. It was for the bank.

Normally the venture would involve a parent alone, but the house staff had begged Daisy Blanchard not to leave them with Catalina while Mr Blanchard was away. Anticipating Hogwarts, the girl's thirst for distraction had grown to terrorising the people serving her- all except the resident house elf, Lipsy.

"Where did you get that dress, darling?"

Drawn from staring out the window at grey London, Catalina looks at her mother with disinterest, "Don't know."

"It's very...mugglish."

"For good reason," she snaps, gesturing to the muggle man who had been sent by the car company to drive them to the Leaky Cauldron. He glances at them quickly in the mirror.

Catalina glares at the back of his head and 'accidentally' kicks the driver's chair, hard. She tucks her fist under her chin and slumps against the window again.

Then it happens.

Daisy does not notice the shift in the air. An indescribable halt to the normality of sitting in a car driving down a rainy street. For all the muggles strolling the footpaths, people in the other cars on the road, men smoking in their windows and women gossiping along the walls...nothing changes.

It does, however, for two children from completely different worlds- an orphan boy leaning against the mouth of a dark alley and a rich girl perched on the leather seat of a town car.

In what would become the doorway to a volatile future of love, misery, dreams and darkness, Catalina Blanchard meets eyes with Tom Riddle.

For an instance the world seems to stop. She can see nothing but him and his cruel brown eyes. Someone with such cold eyes could never love anything. He stares back at her, equal parts interested and disturbed.

They are alone together in a place that doesn't exist, and in the next instant, thrown back into reality as the car passes his corner by and turns down the next streets, removing them from one another's view.

Catalina feels changed all of a sudden, gasping out a breath she did not mean to hold. She pushes against the window with her hands in an effort to look out the back window, but she fails to see him.

Tom loses his sense of self and wanders around the corner with his eyes on the car, in awe if this new experience of magic. What was it? Some type of mind trick? Had the girl performed magic in the single second they saw each other?

He watches the car disappear down the road.

The euphoria of such an experience makes travelling through Diagon Alley nothing more than a bore. Normally Cat would stop at the Quidditch shop, or to browse a few dresses. But as she is lead through the beloved street, she sees nothing at all.

On her mind sits a pair of cold brown eyes. And so begins an obsession.

The sudden desire to see this boy again, to talk to him and find out his name, overcomes her once they're inside Gringotts.

"'M bored, mum."

Daisy swats at her daughter dismissively, trying to shut her up while she continues to speak to the goblin serving her. All sorts of people bustle around them, busy with their lives as they collect money or precious items.

Catalina rolls her eyes and hits her mother back. It shocks the goblin, who turns a judgmental eye on her. She stares back unabashed. It's not as if he can do anything.

"Cat, darling," Daisy begins with a forced smile, "Why not go on a little spree? You can pick some things out that you might want to get for school?"

"I need new Quidditch gloves," Cat states, ignoring the suggestion.

Daisy looks further irked, "You won't be playing Quidditch in your first year."

Catalina's eyes become slits, "I need new Quidditch gloves."

The goblin watches the two Blanchards stare at each other silently. Whether the mother gives in out of weariness or fear of the little girl with malice in her face, he doesn't know, but she loses.

"Here is your father's account," she mumbles, defeated, drawing a small square of parchment and her wand from her purse. "No more than fifteen galleons, you hear me?" She points to the opposite side of the hall where a goblin is sitting at his desk waiting for the next customer. Catalina takes both items.

"Thank you mummy," she decorates her speech in faux sweetness for the goblin's sake, before she turns on her heel with access to mischief in her hand.

She slaps it down on the other goblin's desk as best she can from her height and wears a bright, sweet smile.

"I need thirty galleons from my father's account please sir," she thumbs at Daisy over her shoulder. The woman, out of earshot, smiles and waves, never the wiser.

The goblin raises an eyebrow at both mother and daughter. He reads over the parchment, then observes the wand carefully. Internally, Catalina rolls her eyes and taps her foot impatiently. But on the outside she keeps her cutesy facade. 

Finally, he accepts, "It will only be a moment, Miss Blanchard."

Catalina nods as he disappears behind his desk.

Obviously the boy she is going to see is a Wizard. A muggle would never connect with her on such a level, nor would he be so handsome. 

In the few books she has managed to scrounge on love, soulmates is an ill researched topic.

According to Lipsy, who is almost five hundred years old, there is a special office in the Department of Mysteries that specializes in love magic. Catalina has often dreamed of working there, though no particular class in Hogwarts seems to potentially lead her to studying it.

Of course there is also Quidditch. Catalina is more than just a decent Seeker.  The Department of Magic Games and Sports have a program for prodigious children such as her. She and a few other Pureblood children had joined and made names for themselves. Last she heard, her rival had made it into Hufflepuff's team.

Defence Against the Dark Arts sounds best to her when it comes to classes. Naturally a combative spirit, Catalina loves a good fight. Yet the prospect of hunting down dark wizards seems almost...traitorous.

Not because her father had been somewhat of a silent supporter of Grindewald and his values, but rather because her own had often fallen in line with those considered 'evil' by the daily profit.

Though her hatred for muggles comes from a much more authentic place.

"Thirty galleons from the account of Wilhelm Blanchard," the goblin announces when he return with a sack that rattles with coins. "Sign here."

Catalina taps her mother's wand to the parchment held out to her. A signature appears in her mother's dramatic, sweeping writing. 

"Thank you very much," the goblin says, holding the cash out to her.

Catalina grins sweetly, takes it and tosses her mother's wand to her. She hurries out before Daisy can double check the sum.

Before bustling any further down the street, she finds a quiet space and deposits the many golden coins into her little side purse. With the extension charm they fit in easily, though it will be very hard to find them later when they're loose through everything.

She continues down the street. In truth, she actually does need new Quidditch gloves, even if Slytherin won't welcome a first year into tryouts. 

She walks past the shop anyway.

As a Blanchard, she is bound for Slytherin. She even wears an emerald ring her sister had owned in honour of him and his ideals. 

Thinking of it has her bringing it up to her face. 

Meanwhile, the magic wall parting Diagon Alley from the Leaky Cauldron opens, revealing Tom standing there for the hundredth time that year. He has become irreversibly obsessed with the secrets that were kept from him until Dumbledore's visit to Wool's Orphanage. 

He steps into the familiar street. Something alike to comfort fills him. He wishes the filthy muggles he grew up with could see him and the surrounding wonders- not so they could enjoy it, but so they could finally know their true insignificance.

Within the bustling crowd ahead, something catches his eye. A brilliant flash of green shining between the bodies moving about. He can't believe his eyes when he finds the girl he had practically followed there standing among the hubbub, staring at something on her hand.

Tom approaches her at once, intending to ask what magic she had used on him.

When he stops right in front of her, she doesn't immediately look up at him.

"Forever yours."

"What?" He frowns, immediately regretting not saying Pardon instead. Facade should be up.

"Forever yours," bright green eyes almost identical to the emerald on the ring look up at him, "The inscription on Salazar Slytherin's ring."

For him to think something positive of anyone is a rarity. When the word pretty swoops into his mind like a bird it stuns him into a brief stupor. The girl looks on knowingly.

"The founder of Slytherin?" He saves himself with. He had almost starved himself with the constant reading of his school books and knows exactly who she is talking about.

She smiles. It unsettles Tom. No one has ever smiled at him like that. Not even the silly little girls at the orphanage or running around the London streets. 

It's warm, intrigued, informed and...sweet. 

She turns on her heel to head down the left lane. As she does, she slips the ring off and holds it up to the light. Tom falls in-step with her.

"According to history, Lord Salazar met his wife Melody when they were children. He loved her dearly. They grew up together, learnt magic together and eventually married. It's believed the emerald on her ring was born from a fallen star," she explains, slipping it back onto her finger, "They had three sons. Their fourth child, a daughter, died before she could be born, as Melody had come down with dragon pox. She passed not long after and according to Godric Gryffindor, Lord Salazar was never the same again."

She looks at Tom. Despite her continued smile he can see the misty hint of sadness in her eyes for the story.

"Melody was buried with the real ring, engraved with Slytherin's final omnipresent promise to her. Forever yours."

A moment of silence passes between them as Tom considers the story. Despite it's random place in their meeting, it feels right.

"That's not in Hogwarts: A History."

"No," Catalina smiles, "It's in A Guide To The Heart of Magic. An encyclopedia on love magic through the ages. Melody Slytherin is considered the mother of love magic." They turn right at the next junction. She giggles freely, "I'm something of a fanatic."

"Is that why you have a replica of the ring?" Tom asks, assuming it can't be the real thing.

"Oh yes," she says, looking at it again, "Many exist, though this one is about two hundred years old. And it's a real emerald."

A rich girl, Tom thinks to himself immediately. He'd guessed, and she's obviously not hiding it.

"You must think me a snob," she smirks, suddenly turning sharply down a thin alley between a shop selling many colourful plants and a large, fancy-looking cafe.

Tom follows her down until she reaches the middle, suddenly planting her back against the wall.

Unsure, he continues to watch her with suspicious eyes. He leans on the opposite building a little to the side of her. Neither of them say anything as they take each other in.

They're certainly the same age. Her hair is long, dark and wavy, half done up. She wears a red dress with shirt sleeves, a big red ribbon at the collar and white buttons down the front. It reaches her knees. Her socks are frilly above her heeled and pointed shoes, done up daintily with little ribbons.

He can tell by her face that there is a foreignness to her blood. Her skin is a warm colour and her eyes are big, round and dark. When she grins at him her teeth are a blinding white.

"Catalina Blanchard."

Tom mulls the name over in his mind. He has never heard anything like it.

"Tom Riddle," he responds, feeling it is somewhat insignificant to her own. Still, he keeps his charm about him. It had been a mistake to let Dumbledore see what resides inside. One he will not make again.

So he holds his hand out. She shakes it with a smile which he returns.

"Have you been to Hogwarts yet, Tom?"

"No," he slips his hands back in his pockets, "I'm starting my first year this year."

"As am I," her eyes travel over him again, analysing. Then, without looking away, she asks unabashed, "Are you a Pureblood?"

It catches him off guard. He had only heard the term once before. A trio of men were speaking in hushed tones behind a bookcase at Flourish and Blotts. They mentioned words of interest to him; Pureblood, mudblood and blood-traitor.

"I take it you're not, if you don't know the term."

She looks away from him in what can only be considered disappointment. It annoys him.

"I only found out I was a wizard in December," he states baldly, trying not to snap. "The Deputy Headmaster came to the orphanage."

"Professor Dumbledore?" She looks back at him, smiling somewhat less, "He's very nice." When she stops talking her eyes change. Tom's words settle in her mind. "Did you say orphanage?"

He stares at her, hard. This had been his internal debate for the past few months. To pose as a sad little orphan rising from the ashes, or to create an elaborate lie about his life and upbringing.

Forced into the decision, (and later acknowledged, the best) he nods.

Her face softens in a familiar lapse of pity. He hates it.

"Did you know them?"

"No."

Her eyes squint as she looks over him again.

"Perhaps they were wizards."

"Not my mother," he says quickly, "She died when she had me."

A moment of silence passes before she speaks softly, "I'm sorry."

Tom looks away. 

"It doesn't mean she wasn't a witch."

Tom doesn't respond, so Catalina leaves it at that. Instead, she moves on, playing with her ring again.

"Do you know why I told you its story?" 

"No."

"Because I knew the moment I looked at your eyes that you're like me," she says at once, again unabashed when she looks at him with that same entertained expression. "You'll be a Slytherin."

Tom had hoped. According to the second-hand book he had managed to obtain on languages, Parseltongue is a rare ability he shares with the head of the house. Not to mention the houses's sigil is a serpent.

"How do you know?" He asks, hiding his eagerness.

She laughs, "It's a gift. Either way; resourcefulness, cleverness, ambition and cunning. Does that sound like you?"

Yes. "Perhaps."

"I come from a line of Slytherins and Ravenclaws on my father's side."

"Your mother?" Tom doesn't know why he asks, but the question spills out of his mouth before he can stop it. 

Cat shakes her head, "She was born in a wizarding town in South America and went to the school there, Castelobruxo."

So, that's why her name is so unfamiliar.

"I can't wait," she admits, staring at the wall across from her with a dreamy smile. "I've seen the train and all, been to the platform- but not the school. First years take rowboats across the lake to the castle, escorted by the Groundskeeper, Ogg. Then we line up in the Great Hall, put on the sorting hat and find out what house we're in."

Tom frowns, "You certainly sound like you've been there."

His words snap her out of her daydream. He can see the wonder fading in her eyes. For a moment she looks sad, worried even. It disappears as quickly as it came, dissolving into a little laugh.

"I've just heard stories."

Tom gives her a charming smile during the silence that follows. She doesn't shy away from it and giggle like a child, but gives him the same mirth back. It's unfamiliar and intriguing.

The moment is split in half by a shout from above them.

"Catalina! What on Earth are you doing?"

The children look up to see a middle aged woman hanging out of her window staring down at them. Her long brown curls sway in the wind, framing her hardened face and narrowed eyes.

"Hello Aunt Violet."

"Why are you on your own? Where is your mother?"

"I'm not on my own," Catalina responds primly, finishing with a devilish grin, "I'm with a boy."

On either side of the scandalised woman, a pair of girls appear, their features similar. When they see Tom they giggle.

"Mum let me go off on my own."

Violet grunts disapprovingly, "I have told that woman not to let you out of her sight!"

With a loud crash she pulls back into the second floor and slams the doors shut.

Catalina grins at Tom.

"Did you plan that?" He asks.

She smirks, "I like drama. That's my mother's sister. It's her cafe next door. She thinks I'm a troublemaker."

When she stops leaning on the wall Tom does as well, straightening himself. It amplifies how much shorter she is than him.

"Is she right?"

Catalina laughs, "You'll have to wait and see, won't you?"

Violet suddenly appears at the mouth of the alleyway.

"Here we go," Catalina mutters disdainfully. "You should leave. I'll be back here next Saturday for my school things, though."

Instead of listening to her, Tom approaches Violet with a charming smile.

"Apologies, madame," he says properly, "I'm starting my first year soon as well. Catalina was just telling me about the sorting ceremony," he holds out his hand, "My name is Tom Riddle."

Violet, a frumpy woman who wears a particularly frilly floral frock and a coffee-stained apron, is immediately taken aback by the boy. She shakes his hand, regarding Tom carefully, before making up her mind shown in a sheepish smile.

"Oh," she laughs, back-tracking hard. Catalina stares at the back of Tom's head hungrily. Very impressive. "Well then, I suppose that's alright."

When her niece is close Violet finally lets the boy go.

"I grew up in a muggle orphanage you see, so I have many questions," Tom looks at the girl next to him, "Catalina has been a great help."

Violet gasps, clutching her bulging chest in sorrow, "My dear boy, how awful that must have been! Surely, you stood out amongst them..."

As she continues her flurry of nonsensical sympathy, Catalina studies Tom's face. He nods humbly at the chattering woman's words, but is well aware how closely he is being observed by the small girl. 

His facade is good, she'll admit, but her inherited and well-practiced ability to see right through people makes it pointless. The mask of a well-mannered orphan thirsty for knowledge need not be on for her, as she can see the coldness beneath. See it, and appreciate it.

"Cat darling," Violet suddenly sounds uncharacteristically sweet, "Would you like to bring your friend into the cafe for a cup of tea?"

"I wouldn't subject Tom to Iris and Ivy for more than a second!" Catalina snaps, knowing deep down she doesn't want to share Tom with anyone, let alone her nasty cousins.

"Don't speak of your cousins like that!"

"I only tell the truth."

Tom watches aunt and niece glare at each other with seething hatred. There is something endlessly entertaining about such a small girl wearing such a fierce expression.

"Thank you for the offer, Mrs..."

"Bugglesworth, dear."

Catalina snorts derisively, earning herself another nasty look from the woman. 

"Well, thank you for your offer, but I'm afraid I'm expected for lunch."

"I see..." Violet trails off, "A shame. Please know you're welcome any time, Tom."

Catalina feels a strange flare of jealousy as her aunt places a chubby hand on Tom's hollow, pale face. She gives him a warm, sympathetic smile, which immediately disappears when she turns her eyes on Catalina.

"See Tom off, but you come inside and wait here for your mother, comprende?"

Catalina nods firmly, but both she and Tom know it means nothing. With a final smile at Tom, Violet turns back to the cafe and heads inside, taking in customer's requests on her way.

Together, Tom and Cat head back through Diagon Alley.

"You really must go? Or did you guess tea with my aunt and cousins would be the worst thing in the world?" She asks once they turn the next corner.

Tom smirks, "Both true. Unfortunately I am under...scrutiny at the moment. If I don't return within the lunch hour they might not let me out tomorrow."

"That's cruel," Catalina says at once, looking up at him with wide eyes. She snaps her head forward quickly and mumbles, "They are worse than vermin, muggles."

Despite her apparent combativeness, that particular comment seems rather dark for her.

"I agree," Tom states, watching her carefully. Something shadowy had taken over her face and he has a feeling something quite negative is playing in the theatre of her mind.

Suddenly, her eyes catch something off to the side. She instantly abandons Tom and whatever was running through her mind in order to make her way towards it, pushing a few people out of her path at the same time. 

Tom quickly follows the tails of her red dress through the crowd, until she stops when she reaches the shop on the other side. He knows what it sells before he sees it.

Catalina had stopped at the window, which a few other people look in on. 

A broom is mounted there on a stand. Its tail looks thinner than those Tom has seen in his books. A darker brown, too. The crossbar is white silver and seems to shimmer unnaturally. Intricate carvings wind around the stick in a similar colour, moving the same way. At it's tip, shining silver words read Cleansweep V: Platinum. 

"A seeker's broome if there ever was one," a man says somewhere in the crowd. Tom leans around Catalina easily as she stares at it with wonder.

"You're a seeker?" He asks.

She nods, "Best at the summer program. I have a Cleansweep IV."

The price tag clearly states that it's 1500 galleons. Catalina stares at it for a moment.

"Need to make a plan..." she mumbles thoughtfully.

Then she turns back to Tom with determination, "Like I said, I'll be back next Saturday around lunchtime. Will I see you again?"

Tom pretends to think about it, then nods.

For a moment she looks as if she wants to say something, or perhaps do something.

Instead, she settles on bopping his nose with her ringed finger, smiling. He watches her disappear into the quidditch shop for her gloves before he turns around and heads back to the exit of Diagon Alley.

That day would stick in both their minds for a long time to come.