OOOOO
"Uncle Frank!"
Hermione raced up the patio, and lunged herself into an expectant hug. Frank picked her up with a "Hoho!" and twirled her around, so she was giggling and breathless.
"Is this where you live?"
She peered up at the cul-de-sac house, sitting on top of a hill, and overlooking the village of Little Hangleton. Uncle Frank was the gardener here, and trimmed the hedges and carved rose bushes out of thorns. It was the first time she was allowed to come up, usually being whisked away by her parents after a brief "hello."
But she had good news to deliver this time. After this summer, she was going to Hogwarts! Her parents were a little surprised - but didn't stand in her way when it came to spell books and cauldrons. Uncle Frank deserved to know. He usually wrote letters, asking about Hermione and inviting her over for the summer holidays.
"Not quite," Frank humorously pointed at a little shed, standing in the garden. "The Riddle's live over there, but I'm not far behind. Do you want to come and see inside? I've got a new teapot!"
"That's fantastic," the smile on her face died down. "But who is that boy, knocking on their door?"
OOOOO
The expression on Mrs Riddle's face was priceless, when she found a doppelganger of her son standing on her doorstep. She didn't know how to react. He clearly was a family relative, having inherited the "insanely handsome" genes, but couldn't be her son, because Tom was upstairs; shaving. Mrs Riddle opened and closed her mouth, before slamming the door shut, and hyperventilating nineteen to dozen.
"It's her," she wrung her hands. "It's her son."
"Mum," Tom stuck his head over the banister. "Who was that?"
The bell rung again, foolishly persistent and Tom started coming down the stairs, razor blade in hand. Mrs Riddle took a deep breath, and decided the boy outside needed to learn a valuable lesson. Yes, her son was hoodwinked by that hideous trollop and they ran away together - their bastard offspring was here to prove it - but he vehemently denied any affection for her once he returned. She had tricked him. Conned him. Became pregnant as a self-prophesising trap. But he didn't care about the bitch, or her son, and fled the moment his eyes reawakened for the first time in months.
"Come down here," Mrs Riddle barked. "Chase him away."
"Chase who away?" He was still coming down the steps.
"Him." She opened the door, just as Tom Jnr was levelling his wand with the door handle, preparing to blast it off it's hinges. Father and son came to a halt, gawking at each other, and the fierce resemblance that connected them. The younger Riddle got his act together first. He narrowed his eyes, and aimed the wand at his father's chest, hatred and contempt oozing out of his pores.
These people were below him.
"Can I come inside?" He didn't wait, before taking a big step in.
His maternal grandmother edged away, towards the dining room, and Tom Snr was right behind, clinging to her like a big girl's blouse. Mr Riddle looked up from his broadsheet, just as his ashen wife sat in front of him, and Tom Snr joined them at the middle.
"What the -?"
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Three generations of the Riddle family were wiped out in that room - including him- because out of these rubbles arose an even more fearsome opponent- Lord Voldemort.
OOOOO
Hermione woke up to terrible news on August 31st, the day before she boarded the train towards a new life. Uncle Frank was being questioned for not just a single or double murder, but a triple murder, that had everyone scratching their heads. How could three healthy hearts, simultaneously stop beating, without any visible deterioration in their bodies?
"How can I go," Hermione sat on the penultimate step, and put her chin in her hands. "When Uncle Frank's being accused of this horrible crime. He would never do something like that. Never!"
"Of course he wouldn't, sweetie," Mrs Granger put down her laundry basket, and sat down besides Hermione. "You worry too much, pet. Your uncle Frank will be acquitted, and we'll be there to support him." She gave a reassuring squeeze around her shoulders. "Just focus on school tomorrow. What's this Sorting Ceremony I keep hearing about?"
"Oh," it was like a light bulb going off. "It's brilliant! You walk into this hall…."
She spent the rest of the night, chattering about Hogwarts and all the lessons she was looking forwards too. She was obviously anxious about making new friends, but hoped a few good characters would come forward. Her talkative spell, was briefly broken by a "sleep" interlude, before she was up again, buzzing around the kitchen, getting under all their feet.
Eleven o'clock quickly approached.
"Bye mum! Bye dad!" she waved from the train door. "Give my love to Uncle Frank."
"We'll owl you his progress," they struggled to keep up, as the train was moving faster and faster. Hermione gave a brilliant grin, and reached out one last time before they stopped walking, and waved. She picked up her luggage bag from the floor, and started wheeling it down the compartments. Most of them were full, and didn't look chuffed that a 11-year-old wanted to share their fun.
"Strange."
One of the compartments was thrown in complete darkness, with the curtains drawn tight, and the glass turning suddenly reflective. Hermione was caught out by her reflection. A mad, bushy haired girl was standing in the middle of the aisle, verging on the skittery side. She stuck out her tongue, before sucking it in again, and decided pressing her nose against the glass was a brilliant idea.
This was met with giggles on the other side.
"Does she realize how stupid she looks?" Bellatrix lifted up a heavy lank of hair, and threw it over her shoulder. "What were you saying, Tom?"
Tom made sure not to react.
"My summer could've been better-" (I made fantastic discoveries)- "I would've much rather stayed at Hogwarts" -(Luckily not this time. I could come and go as I pleased at the Orphanage)- "And read up all sorts of things about it's History" -( Yeah, there's a book for that. Books pale in comparison to the real thing.)- "But I ended up doing nothing." He shrugged. (I only killed my grandparents and father! Call that nothing?)
"Oh," Bellatrix said with some level of disappointment. "I thought that triple murder at Little Hangleton had something to do with you. They pinned it on some crazy man, who confessed on the spot. What was his name? Marv- Morv-"
"Morfin Gaunt," Riddle said smoothly, touching his ring.
"That's right," Bellatrix remembered. "For Merlin's sake, that girl's irritating me!"
With a swish of her wand, the door to their compartment slid open, and Hermione fell headfirst into a pile of black polished shoes. It startled her greatly, to find six witches and wizards occupying all the seats, and looking ready to tear her limbs off.
"Five points deducted!"
"But-"
"Another five for talking back!"
Hermione bit her tongue, in order to stop physically shouting out about how unfair the situation was.
"What house are you in?"
Hermione shrugged.
"Oh, one of those, are we? Well, we'll be looking out for you in the Sorting Ceremony, little one."
"And pray you're not sorted in Slytherin!" A short, blond haired boy snorted, and quickly reigned himself in when the others stared at him.
"You too?" Hermione said eagerly. "Oh, Thank God! I think I'll just about cry if I get sorted into Slytherin. I'm hoping for Gryffindor. And if I'm not brave enough, maybe Ravenclaw."
The carriage descended into silence, as six heads stared at her, making Hermione nervous again. What? She had only voiced an opinion. Unless they were all Slytherins she didn't understand why they all looking so murderous. Everyone knew the Green & Silver house ran parallel with the Dark Arts, and had a knack for producing wizards that toed the edge.
"That's a bold statement," Abraxas raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you sit there, whilst I retrieve my wand-"
"Wait," Tom interrupted. "Remember where we are."
Bellatrix whined derisively.
"That's no fun!"
"This isn't about fun," he smiled down at the little girl, not worthy to touch his shoes. "Why don't you sit on my knee? I can show you an interesting game of Exploding Snap…."
OOOOO
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"That obnoxious meringue," Bellatrix had to be restrained to her chair, when Hermione skipped off to her favourite table, after placing the Hat back in it's rightful place on the cushioned stool. "We spent the entire train journey, entertaining a nosy busybody!"
"Calm down Bellatrix," he watched the Gryffindor table like a hawk. "We can't say it was exactly a surprise…no. This was for the best."
"For who? Tom, are you mad?"
The insides of his spine tickled, telling him to torture her until she begged for mercy. But he was still in the formation years of his "group"- and couldn't risk scaring anyone off yet, before they pledged their loyalty. Kind, helpful, generous Tom still existed- but he planned to drop that side of him very very soon.
"Bellatrix, cease that tone of voice immediately."
His voice wasn't threatening. But it was a crisp reminder that he could be.
"I'm sorry, Master," Bellatrix dropped her eyes, always the first in wanting to please him. Tom curtly cast his eyes down the table, and tried to register if there was any discomfort for the word "Master." He had only rolled out his preference last summer, and was still in it's tentative stages.
"Steady on Bellatrix," he said quietly. "There are teachers listening."
"You mean Dumbledork?" Bellatrix looked behind her, trying to be discreet, and caught Professor Dumbledore's eyes rightaway. He ran a finger around the rim of his goblet, as if he was contemplating something very hard. When he met Tom's very own dark stare, he raised the goblet in toast, and downed it in one go.
"Is he getting drunk?"
"Dumbledore never gets drunk," Tom said bitterly. "That will allow someone to creep past his defences. Childish, and pathetic as they are."
Tom reached out, and blindly raised up a goblet of his own. He didn't let their eyes disconnect, as he swallowed the contents whole, purposefully letting his ring flash under the candlelight. How fantastic to parade a family heirloom, Dumbledore would froth at the mouth to have. What made the moment even more poignant, was that Dumbledore didn't have a clue what the ring meant. He- Lord Voldemort- had killed.
Not once.
But-
"Three times," Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I get it. Can you stop reminding me how many times I've burrowed from you, Rodolfus? Merlin forbid, I marry you someday."
"I'm sorry," Rodolfus said meekly. "It's just that you have a flighty nature, Bellatrix. Any man would struggle to hold you down."
"Hold me -? Is this you, setting yourself up for a miserly death?"
"Unintentionally."
"You two should get a room," Abraxas broke in, leaning forwards and brushing a blond strand of his forehead. "All this sexual tension is ruining my palate."
"ABRAXAS!"
Bellatrix threw a panicked look sideways, as if to reassure Tom she had no sexual interest in the deviant. But Tom had further things on his mind, then Christmas Balls, and who got together with who…
It was time to step it up a gear.
OOOOO
AN: Not your average Tomione. She's won't stay 11 forever by the way. And I want to stick to the original characters as much as possible. Tell me what you like, and don't like.