From the moment the name Perseus Achilles Riddle was called out by McGonagall, Dumbledore's twinkling gaze was scrutinizing the boy from where he sat in his high backed chair.

The young man who came up to be sorted certainly bore some resemblances to the other Riddle. He was tall for his age, with angular features and raven black hair. He held himself like a pureblood but not arrogantly, more aloof if anything. Simply with a grace and confidence that was rare for one his age. The similarities ended there, however. His hair, although dark, was unruly. His eyes, unlike the deep black colour that Dumbledore would never forget, was a peculiar sea green that was honestly equally as unforgettable.

When the hat was placed on the boy's head the answer that was shouted only a few minutes later didn't surprise the Headmaster.

"Slytherin!"

Dumbledore remembered to clap politely, a cordial smile plastered on his face. As the sorting went on the old wizard couldn't help but steal glances from time to time. McGonagall was the same, the two were careful not to do it so obviously of course but could you really blame them?

A few nights before the start of the new school year, after being questioned by the Headmaster, Snape had adamantly denied the mere idea that Voldemort had a child or was even alive. With a skillful brush of legilimency Dumbledore was irked to find that nothing seemed out of place. Was it possible the former Death Eater was lying? He was after all a master occlumence. But he was loyal to the light was he not? Snape had been regretful of the things he did, he wouldn't turn back to the Dark would he? None of this just felt right.

Even so, a quick scan of the young Riddle's mind bared no results, only showing memories of a childhood in a vast mansion and glimpses of a Greek looking man who must've been his father. The man was definitely not Voldemort with his red slit eyes and white skin. He didn't even look like Tom Riddle. His dark hair had the same unruliness as his son and his eyes were a lighter green, it was clear he came from a southeastern Eropean descent and he had more of an olive coloured skin tone.

He was placated for now, however, as the new academic year went on, he began to worry more about Harry then he was about Perseus, although he did kept tabs on the Slytherin. The headmaster noted how he immediately rose to be the best in every class, all the teachers gushed about the young wizard's potential and even McGonagall grudgingly admitted that the boy's knowledge on transfiguration was impressive.

Tom Riddle was known for his academic excellence, a small voice in the back of Dumbledore's head couldn't help but remind him of this.

But the year went on, nothing happened, nothing with the boy at least.

He payed closer attention to Harry and his friends, to the progress they were making with trying to discover the mystery of the philosopher stone, of who was trying to steal it. And yes, of course he knew of what the three Gryffindors were doing, how could he not? The headmaster had made sure that the traps and tests he put together with the other professors were things that the trio could handle. Harry was the chosen one, he was the one fated to go against Voldemort when the time came and Harry would be the one to make sure the stone was safe.

And yet, somehow, the stone was still taken by some hooded figure who managed to bypass all the security that was set up.

Dumbledore was not used to not knowing what was going on, of things he didn't want happening actually happening just beneath his nose. He was the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He was a Grand Sorcerer decorated with the Order of Merlin and he just let someone waltz into Hogwarts and steal the Philosoper's Stone.

One thing was clear however.

Voldemort was back, who else could've stollen it? For how long was the question, What was he doing in the time he was alive without any of them knowing it?

And was it really possible that Voldemort had a heir?