Round 10 - Music Through the Decades
Well, we're a good way into the season, so what better time to relax? Grab a glass of butterbeer, turn up the music and have fun!
Try not to do too much embarrassing dancing though! You need to see these people again next round!
Each position has been assigned the top hit from a different decade. Interpret these however you wish.
A story about murder based on a song about murder.
Position: Beater 2
Beater 2: 1950's: Mack the Knife — Bobby Darin
Word Count: 906
Prompts:
4. (dialogue) "How could you possibly think that was a good idea?"
7. (word) arrow
10. (word) luminous
Summary: The story of how Tom killed his father.
AU: Tom's mother didn't die immediately after he was born, but killed herself when Tom was six.
Tom sat on the scarlet train staring at his wand, trying to decipher its power. He knew he hadn't used it to its full potential. Myrtle had already died for his benefit, but not at his own hand. He locked the sliding door, put his head in his hands, and drifted off to sleep.
Tom was blinded by a white luminous light. His father appeared with the same smile in the photo his mum had always shown him. Tom knew she couldn't bare to live without him, her true love.
They were sitting together at the table, munching all the food money could buy. They were in a tiny cottage, the three of them smiling. Tom had never truly felt happy. What he would do later on would bring him joy. Myrtle wasn't enough.
His father disappeared. All that was left was a loaf of bread and his mum, weeping.
"Don't cry, mum. You'll get the bread all soggy." Tom whispered.
She tried to dry her tears, but the sight of Tom made her sob even more. "You look so alike," his mother sobbed. Tom knew that his mum loved his father, and the pain, the heartbreak, was like an arrow being pulled out of you.
Tom saw a green flash, and all of a sudden, he was alone.
Tom woke up to the screeching of the train brakes and chattering of the bustling parents and families outside.
The train slowed down as it pulled into King's Cross.
Tom walked onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He angrily pushed people aside as he went to get his belongings. Tom ran through the brick wall and headed outside King's Cross.
Tom waved his hands in the air and waited for a cab to pull over. When that didn't work, he just ran and stole one from a Muggle who was clearly in a hurry.
"Little Hangleton, please," Tom spoke to the cab driver, "find me the most expensive house in the neighborhood."
Tom took out all the Muggle money he had and put it in the hands of the cab driver.
"Stay right here." Tom leaned forward and whispered, "Petrificus totalus."
The driver froze. Tom opened the cab door and walked to the gates.
He stared at the Riddle house through the fence.
Alohomora. He took out his wand and pointed it at the rusty lock. He pushed the gate open and stuck his wand in his pocket, hastily covering it with his sweater as he walked through the front door.
Tom felt like he was looking in a mirror. He saw the same dark hair, pale face, pointed chin. He wouldn't let that overcome him.
"Hello, father," Tom looked straight into his eyes.
"Thomas, what on Earth is he talking about?" The elderly man turned to face Tom. "State your name at once!"
"I," Tom paused, "am Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Thomas' eyes widened as he covered his gaping mouth .
Tom saw his reaction and smirked. "My mother was Merope. But, I bet you already knew that, father."
"Merope? That foul—"
Tom glared at him, then pulled out his wand and pointed it at the man. "Don't say a word against my mum."
Thomas looked at his parents and stood from his chair, towering over Tom. "As a matter of fact, I did recognize you, Tom. How did you find me? Why have you come?"
"You are only one of the richest Muggles in Little Hangleton. You were easy to find. And if you're thinking I want something from you, you are correct."
"Di-did you just say Muggle?" Thomas all of a sudden had fear in his eyes. "Money? You can have money if you never come back."
Tom knew his father knew what he was.
"No," Tom paused. "I wanted my family, my mum to come back to me. But I guess I'll have to settle on your life."
Tom pulled out his wand and Thomas backed into a corner.
"A stick? What are you going to do to my son with a stick?" The elderly woman at the table spoke up.
"Well, Grandmum, you'll see." Tom pointed his wand at Thomas. With a flash of green light Thomas collapsed on the ground.
He looked at his grandparents. "Now, you see? I am more powerful than you will ever be. Money doesn't matter. My father shouldn't have left her!"
"Please, no," his grandparents clutched onto each other. "Don't punish us for what he did."
"You created him. This is all your fault."
"No no no no—" The light flashed again twice, and there was peace, but only for a moment.
How could you possibly think that was a good idea? A voice rang in Tom's head.
Tom gasped, kneeling to the ground and holding his head in agony.
He opened his eyes and saw his mother. "You killed my love. My love! How dare you! You are no longer my son!"
Tom screamed and shook his head. "Make it stop, make it stop!"
The Riddle House was quiet again. Tom slowly stood up and rubbed his temples, sneaking his wand up his sleeve. He walked out as if nothing happened.
Tom locked the gate, and as he walked away, he heard the shriek of a woman coming from inside the house. He stuck his wand through the open car window and said, "Obliviate."
The driver passed out, and Tom walked away, with his mind finally in peace.