Hello! My first bunny is here! I have no idea where this came from.
Tom Riddle waved his wand over the piece of cake on his plate. Normally, he would have avoided it altogether but today was special. It was now exactly one year from the day he made his diary his horcrux. And who was to say a inspiring dark lord can't have cake?
When it was confirmed that the cake did not indeed have any kind of potion in it, he tore a piece off with his fork and bit into it. The cake was actually quite good. There was a sweet but not overly so taste that was mixed in with a hint of mint. It was a strange flavor, but good nonetheless.
Tom listened as those around the Slytherin Table shared whispered gossip for what could be deemed useful for blackmail. Malfoy's pet snake had died and he was complaining rather loudly. Finding it rather annoying and not wanting to hear anymore, Tom spoke up.
"Abraxas, would you—" Tom winced when he felt his stomach cramp. And then, his arm stiffened and started turning white. There was definitely something wrong here and he was going to blame it on the cake.
A voice from above called, "—hear me? Miss Riddle?". Tom opened his eyes and couldn't seem to remember when he fell asleep. When the face of the headmaster appeared twinkling madly, Tom's eyes widened an inch and his entire being froze. Nothing was ever good when Dumbledore's eyes were like that.
"Good, you're awake. Do you remember what happened?" Dumbledore asked. He leaned back in his chair and Tom was happy to note that the old man was far away from him. Although in reality, Dumbledore had only moved a few inches away. Tom sat up in the bed he was sleeping in.
"It was the cake, wasn't it?" Tom asked, straight to the point. He didn't realize his voice was higher than usual when he spotted the man's beard. Or rather, the lack of one. "What happened to your beard?"
Dumbledore looked quizzically at him. "Beard? Why would you ever think I had a beard? And what cake?"
Tom was still processing this information when he caught sight of a lock of golden hair on his shoulders. And then, his chest.
"May I see a mirror?" Tom asked. Of course, he hadn't noticed his wand nearby, so he couldn't conjure his own. That sly fox must have taken it from him claiming that patients shouldn't have their want.
To his hidden surprised, Dumbledore actually went out of the room and came back with a mirror. It was odd, Tom mused as he took the mirror. Why didn't he just conjure one? He was a wizard was he not? Or was it his stupid pro-muggle ideals already influencing him?
"Funny how girls always ask for this first and not about their health," Dumbledore chuckled softly. But Tom was staring at the face in the mirror. It was much more feminine. And Dumbledore just said girl, didn't he? Tom dropped the mirror into his lap.
"It was a gender-swap potion, wasn't it?"
"Gender-swap potion? Whatever do you mean? Are you sure you're alright?" Dumbledore asked worriedly. Tom was immensely amaze Dumbledore could pull off the expression. All the other times he tried it was so obviously fake. "Oh dear, Merope is going to be so upset. She kept telling you that trying to heal so quickly wouldn't be beneficial."
"What?" Tom asked, feeling extremely confused. He loathed this feeling. It was a reason why he strove to obtain all knowledge. Feeling like an idiot was terrible.
"Oh dear, your mother was right. Risk of memory loss, she said."
"What do you mean?" Tom asked again.
"Oh, Alura, you tried to walk again. You stressed yourself too much. The doctors say your health has worsened."
The door opened and a young woman strode in. Her brown eyes were narrowed in anger and frustration.
"What were you thinking?!" were the first words out of her mouth. Tom just stared at her trying to remember why the woman looked so familiar. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? The doctors called and told me you collapsed. I thought you were dying!"
"Who are you?" Tom asked after a few seconds of silence. The adults froze and looked at her in worry, shock, and horror.
The woman rushed forward and hugged Tom with tears dripping down her face. Tom stiffened at the contact. When was the last time anyone had hugged him? When was he ever hugged?
"Oh, Alura, Alura, Alura," The woman murmured repeating her name. "I'm your mother, Merope. How? Why?" The woman kept crying and begging to understand the tragedies after tragedies that had befallen her family. Tom just sat there; mind going at a hundred miles per hour.
"Impossible. Even with magic this is impossible," Tom murmured.
M'kay! There it is: my first bunny with my terrible writing. I hope you enjoyed it, anyhow. Anyone willing to adopt?