A/N: This is written for 'Long Jump' at the Hogwarts Games with the prompt 'dark secret', the Favourite Era Boot Camp with the prompt 'creation', the Favourite Character Boot Camp with the prompt 'mother' and the History of Magic category at the School Subjects Competition.
Also, please be aware that this is written in the context on 1943 as you can tell from the comment about World War Two so please keep the anti German comments in mind in light of the fact. As well, it is full of my head canon information from the story of what Tom told everyone about his blood status, Grindelwald's War and the personalities and first names of the boys in Tom's 'gang'.
)o(
Seemingly, there would be nothing amiss about Tom Riddle as he sat straight backed mimicking the pose of some of the others boys around him as the Hogwarts Express rocketed underneath him on another journey to begin yet another new year at Hogwarts. He was just as slender, his hair was just as slicked back and silky, his eyes were still dark and his face was still undeniably attractive.
It was not to say he had not changed. Somehow the already tall boy had grown several inches through only a few months of absence, his skin had become paler and, most curious of all, he was quiet.
The boys around him were huddled close their tones a mix of pity, excitement and intrigue as the swapped tales of the events that they had read of in the paper and the extra information they had gathered from their relatives. The conversation was slightly too loud, but fascinating drifting from descriptions of rumours the Soviets were succeeding against the Nazis in the East and delight at the muggles successful invasion of Sicily. Of course, every now and again, the conversation drifted to the slightly more contentious rumours that Grindelwald was about to lead a takeover of France.
Tom did not add his input. The thought of the Nazis being defeated was a positive. They may have only been muggles, but he was well aware that the defeat of British muggles would impact the Wizarding World and he still remembered those days he could even admit were terrifying when muggle bombs rained so close to the orphanage in London.
The inevitable argument about how Grindelwald had his priorities correct versus the dissatisfaction of having a German who inevitably wanted some power would have been something he would have added in a few knuts worth, but not today.
Today there were other matters on his mind.
"What about you, Tom?"Christopher Avery pocked in cutting through Mulciber's rant about how all Germans were the same and couldn't be trusted. "Do you think Grindelwald would make the right kind of changes to Britain?"
Tom's mood was only partially improved to see the five boys lean in towards him eager for his comment. Even Theodore snuck a gaze over the top of his book to listen.
"Perhaps, but I would prefer to not discover that," Tom said his voice soft but clear as if he had been listening to the conversation all along. "Any German invader would be unwelcome particularly when only some of Grindelwald's plans are adequate. Perhaps some of his base ideas are logical, but they seem to only consider muggles. His views on mudbloods are not near sufficient."
"Exactly!" Christopher replied eagerly his acne spotted cheeks brightening. "I told you Tom would agree with me."
No one bothered to comment to Christopher, but Tom noticed the roll of Theodore's eyes and Klaus' mocking smirk.
"And we are so very glad you are correct," Klaus drawled settling back into his seat without the usual evidence of his aristocratic heritage. He seemed to be displaying every obvious sign that he was content and confident. "But you have been a bit quiet today, Tom. Christopher has been beside himself without having the opportunity to second every word that escapes your lips."
The chuckle of laughter spread throughout the cabin, but Tom could not join in it. He was not impressed anyone had noticed something was amiss. He cursed himself for breaking his usual perfect facade.
"Have I really? Perhaps I'm just tired."
"You're never tired."Tom flicked his eyes from Klaus to the Rufus Lestrange who was sitting next to him his nose twitching slightly as if he was thinking about something that really troubled him. "At least not in a way that would infringe on your ability to carry out a conversation. You have news. Share."
The truth was they all did have a point. Tom did have news, but, no matter what he would not share. He would never tell a soul.
Tom had always suspected the terrible truth that had become something he now could no longer deny to himself. He had always wanted to know the identities of his parents. He had always searched and searched. The original quest had been based on his father. He had assumed he had been a great pureblood wizard. However, nothing had ever been found. It had been unnerving.
It had only been later that he had turned his attention to his mother. Based on his Slytherin heritage and the name Marvolo for his grandfather, the identity of Merope Gaunt had slowly made its appearance. Yet, it had not told him much.
Until this summer. This summer when he had found the Gaunt Shack and his mad uncle who had told him all about the pathetic muggle who did not deserve the title of his father.
The pathetic muggle who had looked so like him.
He was not bothered by killing him or his grandparents. He did not even care that he had framed his uncle for their murders. All he cared about was the devastating knowledge that he was forever marred by a filthy muggles father.
It was his dark secret that no one would ever know. He would carry around the aching disgust in his chest forever, but it would remain their hidden for no one to find. He could not risk the purebloods who now gathered around him disappearing or contend with such an obstacle to his success.
It would forever remain as a secret.
"I do." As soon as the words left his lips the focus on him intensified even Theodore lowered his book completely. This time the attention was not welcome, but he would bear it. "I discovered something over the summer about my parents."
There was a slight series of uncomfortable shuffles in the group from Lewis Mulciber who had the distinction of having two muggles for parents and from Klaus Rosier whose father had died in the Nazi's bombs. On the other hand, the three boys who seemingly had no parental issues, only leaned in closer.
"You have always tried to know the truth," Rufus murmured. Tom knew he was careful with his words. "It has to be good that you now know, even if the news is bad."
Tom had a sudden inexplicitly feeling Rufus thought he was going to confess to possessing some muggle heritage. Anger flared within him cementing his view about what he must do.
How dare anyone think his blood was not pure?
"The truth is not pleasant, but it is not necessarily bad. You see my parents were both wizards." Nicholas nodded slowly and Tom watched Christopher and Rufus grinned in very different ways. "They were married for not even a year when my mother disgraced herself. She had an affair. Of course my father banished her from the house. No one would assist such a woman who had such loose morals. She was left alone on the street. I suppose it was much later when everyone discovered she was pregnant."
Tom paused for effect checking over the faces of those who were listening. Theodore was focused on him, but his eyes were glazy as if he was trying to think of something. Christopher was nodding along with every word. Rufus was still smiling, but Lewis looked furious. Tom supposed he was envious of his magical blood.
"She tried to fend for herself in those conditions. I do not know how she survived. All I know is that on New Year's Eve she went into labour. I can only assume she was so desperate, so defeated and left with such little option that she stumbled into a muggle orphanage. She died giving birth to me. She was dead within the hour. The muggles chose my name. They called me Riddle because of the strange and mysterious circumstances of my mother's arrival."
The end of his story was greeted by silence, but there were no questions and accusations to Tom's relief. It seemed his carefully created lie had worked.
So filled with his success he jumped slightly when Rufus' hand rested on his shoulder. "It's alright,' he said softly.
Tom assumed he must have taken his silence for sorrow at the retelling of the tale. He supposed that was adequate and, as much as he disliked the physical contact he did not push his hand away. It was a sacrifice he would have to content to continue to hide his secret.