Hi guys!
Basically, this is NYANCAT56. I've forgotten my password and I can't remember my email for my old account, so I've made this new one. After leaving it a while, I've decided I want to update my most popular story Uncle Tom Riddle! However, after reading it through I realized some parts of it were quite poor and a bit Mary Sue ish, (and the grammar is appalling), so I'm going to edit all the chapters and then continue posting new chapters :) sorry for the wait for an update! Anyway, please enjoy my revamped story:)
PROLOGUE
It was the dead of winter when Tom Riddle sat down at his desk. A bitter wind had entered the magnificent castle in which Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters reigned, and another successful raid on the ministry had heightened the Death Eaters spirits. Tom had decided to let them roam free in a party in the Luncheon Hall, with the invitation extending to their wives and children. The next generation of his loyal servants would need to become accustomed to the bodies and sights of a Mudblood revelry. The jeers and shouts of the Death Eaters were so loud that noise leaked through the charm that had been placed on the hall.
A few days previous Tom had embarked on a visit to his father's stately home in Little Hangleton. Any documents found there were taken by Tom. He needed a new vessel to split his soul again, perhaps for the final time. His immortality was only a few letters away.
So in the dark study, kept alight by a few sickly green candles, sat Tom Riddle, undoing a previously opened envelope. It read;
My dear Thomas,
Your parents have spread the news about your return. I say, I can't wait for that fabulous ball tomorrow at your house! It is so good to see you returned and well. I have missed you greatly over the years. No one would believe me about that tramp Merope having you hoodwinked. I knew so when you refused to wave at me at that last ball held by your parents. I have so missed, you, my friend.
Your loving friend,
Cecilia Grangere
Tom threw this to the marbled floor and grabbed the next letter. However much he hated his father, a morbid fascination rose up in him about this…Cecilia person. The bitter cleft in his heart at being left by his father seemed to enjoy the torture of reading about his relative's later life. The next letter stated;
My dear Thomas,
Please do not think I turned down your offer of courtship at the ball last week. It just shocked me so, being asked of my hand by a person of your calibre. But my dear, I accept. My father has agreed to you escorting me to the opera next week in London. I shall pore through my dresses for a suitable outfit!
With all my love,
Cecilia Grangere
A dark curiosity had been awoken in Tom. He had always wanted a companion, like a mother and father. He had Nagini now, but the thought of relatives didn't make him shudder as he thought they would. Perhaps the gift of his magic had been passed on, to forward the line of Voldemort. The last letter's ink was smudged, and dribbled in places.
My Tom,
My parents said I mustn't see you again. The "shame" you have brought to my family does not compare to the agony my heart feels. Our little boy is to be called Robert. He is healthy, and has the most gorgeous smile in the world. I will always cherish this gift you have given me. No matter how or where we will move on, rest assured my heart will always be yours.
Cecilia Grangere
Tom was… the word stunned didn't really explain it. He was flabbergasted- shocked- disturbed? No word could sum up the rising tide of grief and excitement that stirred in his pale veins. And then, he came back to earth. His father, and most likely Cecilia, were both muggles. The brother he had was probably a waste of oxygen. And yet….another letter. This one hadn't been opened; most likely because Cecilia hadn't learned of Tom Sr's death. Voldemort smirked at that thought.
Dear Thomas,
You have no idea how I have deliberated over sending this letter. How long has it been? Well over 50 years…in response to my last letter, our son, Robert, has grown into a man to be proud of. He obtained first class honours in his degree in Dentistry from the University of Edinburgh, and has settled down in a small village in Surrey. He looks almost exactly like you, with your curls and my blue eyes. He truly is the greatest gift I have been given.
He married a darling girl, Gemma, a few years past. Her family may not have been to the standard of the nobility we were once part of, but her personality is infectious. At our weekly lunch dates, the girl has me in stitches. But, the reason of this letter is for our first grandchild. Her name is Hermione. She's a darling little girl, she was born last week. Curly hair, the colour of dark gold. And these grey, silken eyes, already at this age.
And yet…I feel something is off with her. Between you and me, I do worry about her. She has a habit of staring, though i do not mind having her little face focused on mine! I swear she can look at a picture frame and have it fall from the wall. It's almost like the tricks that old hag Merope would play! I could be a senile old woman, though. Honestly, she is practically newborn! I look forward to hearing from you again. Perhaps we could meet for a coffee one day soon?
With love,
Cecilia Granger
Tom hummed a raspy, dry sound. A little girl, with his flesh and blood circling in her, and a young age too, guessed from the envelope date. She'd be about four. From Cecilia's tone in the letter, she could be a…mud- muggleborn. A very low chance, yet the potential was there.
Uncle Tom.
Tomorrow he would have to rally his Death Eaters. Pay a little visit to the Granger household.