The house was dark and the only sound that could be heard was the sound of bare feet hitting hardwood. The fridge door was opened and someone could be heard rummaging through the contents. Eventually, a mop of curly raven hair bobbed above the fridge door and the head moved towards the kitchen counter. This head happened to belong to a very slim, very pale boy around the age of eleven. The boy placed a plate of chocolate cake on the kitchen counter and with a silver fork in hand began to devour the sugary goodness.
However, the boy didn't get to finish his cake because a light flickered on in the kitchen, making him stop like a deer caught in headlights. "Mother," He said smoothly, looking up from his cake to face the woman who had caught him eating her favorite dessert.
The boy expected his mother to speak, and he waited for the explosion with a bowed head. But, it never came. Instead, another fork was plunged into the cake and she began to eat with him. "I can't really get mad at you for this." She said, kissing the mass of black curls on his head. "It's very good cake if I do say so myself." She said proudly, as it was her who had done the baking.
"Thanks Mum." He murmured, but he still wasn't very happy about having to share his cake. His mother just chuckled and took another bite of cake. "I'm going to head back to bed now. Go to sleep once you're finished." She got up, her slippered feet dragging across the ground as she left.
"Wait." The boy said, looking up from his midnight snack. "Can I ask you something, Mum?"
"Anything Blake, what is it?" she asked, moving back to sit beside him on one of the bar stools. "I found something yesterday, in the attic. At first I thought it was nothing, but I looked closer and I noticed something. I wasn't going to ask you about it, but I'm rea-"
She cut him off, a small smile on her lips. "What is it sweetheart?" she asked. Blake shoved his hand in his robe pocket and shoved a black and white photograph across the counter towards her.
At first, she was confused as to what it was. But, when she picked it up and looked closer and look of horror overtook her face. "Mum, is that my father's father?" he asked, treading carefully when he saw the look on his mother's face.
"No." was the blunt reply. Blake stared down at the picture. He didn't know who else it could be. The young man looked a lot like himself. Almost exactly like him, but his hair was straight and he was much taller. The young man was standing beside a pillar of some sort, an arm draped lazily around it. He was smirking and he kept winking in his mother's direction. "Who is it then?" the boy questioned his mother who was trying her best not to look at the man in the photograph. "He must be a wizard, seeing as it's a wizard photo."
"It's your father." She murmured; her voice barely above a whisper. Blake opened his mouth to argue, but his mother cut him off. "We'll talk about this tomorrow." She said before getting up from the counter and hurrying off towards her bedroom.
She ran up the stairs, rushed into her bedroom and slammed the door shut. The woman collapsed onto the carpet, gasping in an attempt to stop herself from crying out. Why now? After all those years of avoiding even the thought of him, why had her son found that picture? He was dead, but even from the grave he wouldn't let her forget him. No, Tom Riddle would be with her always. Just like he promised.
Okay, if anyone wants me to continue with this story please tell me. I've got quite a few ideas as to where this story can go. So, anyone who is interested in seeing more please review! Oh, and Tom will be an active character in the story.