Soo... this is a new story, obviously. Hope you like it! I loved the idea, and some credit goes to HumanlyWumanly for helping me come up with ideas, so thank you to her! Also, please review! This story is dedicated to all those Tom Riddle/Horace Slughorn/Albus Dumbledore fans out there!
In the small town of Godric's Hollow, the newly erected building was in chaos, as usual. Being in Godric's Hollow, it was of course a magical building, which housed magical people. Wizards and Witches.
Elderly Wizards and Witches, to be exact.
'Ha!' yelled Albus Dumbledore, one of the oldest occupants of the old people's home. 'Suck that, Tom!'
'You cheated!' screeched Tom. He never did like to be beaten at Bingo, and so grabbed Albus's card and put it right in front of his eyes in order to read it. Having red eyes with slit irises did have its drawbacks. 'How the hell did you do that! I was one away from winning!'
'Please, Mr Riddle, calm down! Other people are trying to have their naps, and you are causing a commotion!' flustered Madam Fontana, one of the carers.
'I will not calm down! He cheated!' Shouted Tom, as Albus stuck his tongue out at Tom. 'And don't you dare call me Tom! My name is Lord Voldemort, and you will kneel at my feet, and kiss my robes, filthy mudblood, because you clearly don't deserve to be in my presence!'
'I'm afraid I cannot have that kind of language in this home, Mr. Riddle. It also says 'Tom Riddle' on your birth certificate, so that is the name I will call you. I must tell you, you are no longer the leader of the Death Eaters, so don't expect me to kiss your robes.' Madam Fontana replied, less flustered this time. 'Go and have your bath now, Mr. Riddle, Madam O'Donnell is waiting. And don't forget to thank her; she bought you some new continent pads today. Eco-friendly ones.'
Tom took his walking stick, which was black, topped with a silver snake (he'd taken the idea off Lucius Malfoy) and hobbled out off the room, sulking and muttering under his breath.
'Hear that, Horace? I finally managed to beat Tom at Bingo!' Albus called, leaning back in a flowery armchair, and picking up a magazine on knitting patterns.
'What's that, Albus? I was just getting more crystallised pineapple,' replied an elderly man with little hair and an enormous walrus moustache.
'Not more crystallised pineapple, surely, Horace? You must have spent more money on that junk than I have family members.' This was said by Cygnus Black, a 50-ish man who was very pro-pureblood and was renowned for having a giant family.
'I'll be having that, Mr. Slughorn. You know that you're supposed to be on a diet,' said Augusta Longbottom, grabbing the box out of Horace's hands, and putting it in her large red handbag, though not before taking a piece out and eating it.
Horace stamped his feet at this.
'Give that back! That cost me 15 galleons, and it was the only deluxe box left!' Horace yelled, proceeding to hobble as fast as he could over to Augusta, and attack her handbag.
'What is going on here? Everyone seems to be fighting today!' Madam Fontana yelled, storming over. 'Emilia, I'm going to need your help. Horace is having a tantrum, again.'
Albus sucked in his breath. Emilia Winters was the most fierce and strictest carer in the whole retirement home, and everyone, even Tom, was scared of her.
'I LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR TWO HOURS, ANDTHIS HAS HAPPENED AGAIN?' Madam Winters stormed down the stairs, hands on hips. 'CALM DOWN OR WE WILL NOT BE WATCHING 'STRICTLY COME DANCING' TONIGHT!'
'Sorry, Madam Winters. Won't happen again.' Horace sat back down on his sofa.
'Ahh good. I never like that rubbish, anyway. I would rather watch 'Doctor Who',' Tom came back in the main sitting room, wearing a pink fluffy dressing gown and pink bunny slippers, his bald, pale head reflecting the light of the fire blazing merrily in the fireplace.
'No. You know it scares poor Horace, so if you don't want to watch 'Strictly Come Dancing', then you can have an early night,' Madam Fontana told him.
'Why do we even watch this muggle stuff, anyway?' Tom asked.
'So we can appreciate how muggles live without magic. And if you're about to tell me that muggles are scum, forget it!'
'My father was scum,' Tom muttered, before shuffling through into the kitchen to make himself a hot chocolate.
Much later, Madam Winters ordered everyone to go to bed. Albus tottered off to his room, full of books and awards and posters of the Deathly Hallows. Tom skulked off to his room filled with Slytherin banners and news articles about himself, and Horace hobbled as fast as he could to his room, where he knew he had a hidden stash of crystallised pineapple under his bed.
'What are you doing out of bed, Cygnus? You know that bedtime is at 9:30, no later!'
'Tom, please stop the hissing, we know you might think it's Parseltongue, but no one else appreciates it when they're trying to sleep!'
'Horace, go and brush your teeth, before we have to send you to St. Mungo's for tooth removal because you teeth will be so rotten!'
'Turn that light off, Albus! You will damage your eyes, reading so late at night under the covers with a torch! No wonder you have to wear glasses!'
Yep, it was just another normal evening at Merlin's Retirement Home for Magical Elderly Folk.
