The Prince and the Pauper
(A Marauder Story)
Prologue: Tom's Plan and Chapter One: St. Bernadette's Prologue: Tom's PlanOne dark and stormy night, a man (whose name had been at one time Tom Riddle) was sitting in his…lair. There really was no other name for it. It was dark, and in a cave for some odd reason. If truth be told, the former-Tom Riddle rather hated his…lair. He really needed to come up with another name for it.
But at that point, a name for his…lair was the least thing on his mind. Tonight would lead to unexpected glories. Tonight, he would finally be able to conquer all the Mudbloods-the "future witches and wizards of society that were brought up by Muggles" as his old transfiguration teacher had said. Tonight, he'd lead a series of attacks that would lead even his old transfiguration teacher quivering with fear. Tonight, victory would be his.
And tomorrow. And the next. And the next week, month, year, and long afterwards.
A small smirk played on his lips. He couldn't wait.
A knock on the entrance of his…lair was heard. Another wry grin appeared, and for once Tom Riddle was looking forward to company.
"Come in, fool."
A tall man donned with a cloak and mask appeared in the doorway of his…lair.
I really need a better name for my…lair he thought yet again.
The man silently came into Tom's…lair. He bowed low and kissed the hems of his robes.
"Master," he greeted respectfully.
"Never mind that," Tom snapped impatiently, "Get to your feet, idiot. Now! And tell me…how Mission Crack-Pot-Old-Fool went!"
Sniggers were heard from one corner of Tom Riddle's…lair.
"Operation Crack-Pot-Old-Fool? Where did they come up with that?" a voice rang out, and before Tom knew it, he was apparating away, with hopes of getting out of his…lair before the Aurors got to him.
It was an hour or so before the man and Tom Riddle returned to Tom's make-shift lair-no, Head Quarters, he quickly corrected himself. Super villain he might be, but the migraines that came from word games were inevitable to anyone, Devil's Right-Hand Man or not.
Tom was still cursing himself for letting a stranger find his…lair-no, head quarters. But stupid Tom Marvolo Riddle was not, so he wasn't worried of being tracked down. Certain curses certainly prevented any…disagreements any enemy of his had. He'd look to the prisoners later. Tom turned his attention back to the pitiful excuse for a Death Eater in front of him.
"Milord, we have…been successful," he said, trying not to shudder at the look in his Master's eyes. It was of pure fanaticism, utterly full of…well, it couldn't be joy; joy referred to a pleasant thing. And the look in (the former) Tom Riddle's eyes were anything but pleasant, or good.
They were full of evil.
"So you have it? The Mud-blood List? You dunderheads have managed to retrieve it?"
"Yes, Master, we have…so, you mentioned a reward?" the servant asked.
"Yes…" Tom Riddle said. "Yes…"
So Tom Riddle took out his wand and murmured two words…I'm sure you all know them.
"Avada Kedavra," the spell was cast, and the servant, Gunther Snape, was dead.
~*~
It was only an hour later that Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort to most, was able to get his hands on that List. And once he did, he began The System. One by one, each Muggle-born child on the waiting list to get into Hogwarts was killed. The ones in Hogwarts would have to wait until summer vacation.
Only a few Mud-bloods were left on the List. The next was…Lily Evans. Daughter of Mr. Scott Evans and Mrs. Rose Marie Evans. Sister to Petunia Evans. First showed signs of magic at…Tom almost choked on the cappuccino he was drinking (hey, even evil bad guys need some caffeine sometimes). This Evans girl first showed signs of magic at the age of 7 months and 4 days! That had to be some kind of record. No Mud-blood did that, unless they were…well, powerful.
Really powerful.
He needed to eliminate Lily Evans. And he would do so now.
~*~
Mrs. Rose Marie Evans was standing her kitchen, waiting impatiently for the lasagna to finish cooking. The toss salad had been done for almost an hour, and the Italian bread was still warm from being freshly baked. The only thing she was waiting on was that stupid lasagna.
Rose sighed. She really hated cooking, and the fact that it was her husband's 'Congratulations-For-Being-Promoted-Dinner' made her feel guilty for getting so frustrated. She cocked her ear in the direction of the nursery and listened. True, her youngest daughter, little Lily, was now six (Rose's eyes teared up at that thought; she wasn't a baby anymore) she still kept her inside that nursery. Rose knew this was probably complete denial, but she couldn't help it. But getting back to the story, Rose cocked her ear. She didn't hear anything, which could be taken as a good or bad sign.
"Petunia? Lily?" she called in the general direction of her daughters. The eight-year old Petunia looked up from where she was reading Peter Pan to Lily on her bed. Lily's eyes were filled with joy as her elder sister read to her about Wendy, John, and Michael.
"Second star to the right, and straight on to morning," Petunia read carefully, making sure to pronounce the words correctly. Rose smiled. Her daughter was so proud of her newly found reading abilities.
"Can they really fly, Petty? Can they?" Little Lily asked, and Rose chuckled as Petunia answered, "Of course," as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
Rose finished dinner and went to her room. She got dressed up in an elegant black dress she hadn't worn in awhile. True, it no longer was as stunning at it had been, but between the last time she'd worn it and now, she'd had two children. Which was a legible excuse in Rose's eyes. When she was done, she set the dining room table. She made sure to use only the best china she owned; candles were set out strategically to give the room a fancy yet loving ambiance.
"Are you home, Rosie?" a voice called from the front door.
"Yes, dear. I'm in the dining room," Rose called, and gathered up her girls and seated them in their chairs on either side of the table. She opened the dining room door and greeted her husband.
"All this for me?" Scott Evans asked his wife, and smiled.
"Of course. Now come, let's eat," she said.
"Mummy, I have to go to the loo," Petunia said.
"Go ahead, darling," Rose answered, and she got up and sighed as her father impatiently tapped his cheek. She went over to him and kissed his cheek quickly. She then hurried to the bathroom. As Lily got up as well, Scott smiled.
"May I have a kiss first, my Lily?" he asked as she ran out the room, and Lily sighed and imitated her sister by giving him a quick kiss.
Unbeknownst to them, it'd be the last kiss either daughter would ever give their father.
~*~
"Are the plans in order?" Tom Riddle, A.K.A. Lord Voldemort asked his servants.
"Yes, Master," One in particular had the nerve to say.
"You…into the light. Be quick about it!" Riddle snarled.
The servant did as told.
"Your name?" Tom Riddle drawled.
"Black, Master. Procyon Black."
~*~
Rose and Scott were wondering what on earth was taking an eight and six year old so long to use the bathroom when a sharp rap was heard on the door.
Scott sighed and said, "One moment, love."
He walked over to the door and pulled it open slowly.
"May I help you?" he asked, eyeing the strange man before him, all clad in black.
"Where's the girl? The younger-Lily?"
Now, Scott Evans was a sensible man. He believed in the whole 'you respect me, I'll respect you' system. As long as you played by the rules, you'd get along famously.
He also had a knack for when something wasn't quite right. Or someone.
So the moment he laid eyes on him, Scott knew something was wrong. Very wrong. And demanding to see one's youngest daughter doesn't earn anyone brownie points.
So, in both a very brave and very stupid manner, Scott Evans said quite simply:
"No."
And, in reply, Tom Riddle\Lord Voldemort said in an equally simple tone:
"Avada Kedavra."
Scott Evans was dead.
Wondering what was going on , Rose came into the hall and gasped at the sight of her husband laying on the ground.
Tears poured down her face in a tirade and she looked up at the responsible man.
"Have you know compassion? Have you…no…shame?" she gasped, and broke down completely.
This'll be an easy one Tom thought, and quickly muttered a Levitating spell. He dumped the corpse of Scott Evans in the dining room and Rose followed him into the dining room.
"You're husband didn't give me the right answer to my question. Answer incorrectly and you'll join him," Tom said icily.
"What do you want?" Rose asked quietly, not even meeting the man's eyes. Usually a firm believer in looking in one's eyes and speaking clearly and firmly, Rose couldn't abide by her own morals. She couldn't fathom how this had happened. In her mind's eye, it simply hadn't.
"Where is your daughter? Lily, the smallest one. Where is she?"
"What?" Rose asked, not understanding why this-this thing wanted something from her.
"Where. Is. The. Child." Tom said, gritting his teeth. He knew he didn't like Muggles. Stupid, incompetent fools, all of them.
"Where is who?" Rose inquired. At this point, Tom lost his patience.
"Hand me over the girl, the redhead, now woman, or suffer the consequences!"
Rose Marie Evans in all her thirty five years had been proud to say how normal and organized her life was. She knew she had sturdy shoulders and a firm head on them. But at that point, she completely lost it. She started to laugh until she collapsed on the floor, next to her dead husband.
Tom Riddle looked at her, and for once, showed a sign of sympathy. He killed her.
Now, of course, that isn't normally a known sign of sympathy, killing a person. But it would be argued in many years in the future, a generation or two down the line, that he had shown the tiniest, smallest bit humane by granting her the mercy of death.
Tom Riddle was about to search the upstairs when a dozen Aurors popped up in front of him. A dozen more were behind him, and he knew more reinforcements would be arriving in a moment. So he did the thing only he would think of.
He took out a box from his pocket, opened it, grasped the key inside of it, and disappeared.
~*~
Chapter One: St. Bernadette's"No! Get away from me, please! Not my Mummy! Pet-Petty…no…Daddy! No! No… no…."
Sari Lettmen sighed. What time was it now? She looked at her nightstand at the digital clock. 2:30…. its later then usual, she noted.
"Please, no! Stop…. please, stop. No, not me! No…."
Sari quickly slipped on her fuzzy pink slippers. She walked over to the second bed by the door-Lily Evans' bed.
"Shh, Lily. It was only a dream. You'll be fine, Flower. It was only a dream," Sari whispered comfortingly.
"No, Sari, it was Him. It was not a dream…" Lily murmured through a barrel of tears.
"Yes it was, Flower, only a dream. You're okay," Sari tried to reassure the shaking 10 year old-well she was almost 11 by now, only two days until her birthday. Ever since she had first arrived at the orphanage almost 5 years ago she had been like a little sister to Sari. The small red-headed girl had been like a beacon of hope to all the girls in room five when she had first arrived at St. Bernadette's, always smiling and laughing.
Lily was recently waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares…Sari had taken it upon herself to look after her, but she was so upset when she looked at Lily. No one knew how her parents had died. They had been found on the dining room floor, all dressed up, with a look of terror in their eyes. Lily's older sister Petunia wasn't found. Lily never spoke of it, but Sari had a yearning to mention it to her, though she never did.
Actually, now that Sari thought of it, until recently, she hadn't had a nightmare "week" since October. Almost a year ago. Other than that, it was the normal nightmare, one night only, that occurred to every child in their childhood. Then again, most children dreamed nightmares full of monsters, and scary teachers. Not of death.
Lily sobbed again, and Sari immediately returned her attention back to her.
"It's not a dream, and it's not okay!" Lily whimpered, "I saw Him."
At that Sari sighed. Lily was convinced that a tall, dark haired man was responsible of her parent's deaths. She was convinced that a man named 'Tom' had done it, and that he had red eyes. Which, Sari patiently explained to her each time the whimpers started, was ludicrous. No one has red eyes. Lily, of course, refused to back down on it.
"Sari, can't you get her to quiet down? It's the fifth night in a row!" Donna Bosley complained. "I need my beauty sleep!"
"Ms. Doufahn is sure to come yell at us!" Megan Tanner whimpered.
"It's true! And you know what happens when Ma'am Dofahn gets mad! She…" Tracy Kryben began.
"Always blows her button and we have to do dishes and go on errands, we know Traci!" chorused all of the girls giggling-well except for Anastasia Ronsably, who could sleep through a hurricane.
Megan was somewhat of a scaredy cat-she was terrified of Andrea Doufahn, the orphanage's owner. Yes, she was the infamous matron of St. Bernadette's Home for Girls. Not that she was a nasty person, just a stickler for rules.
Donna was one of those snobby girls who got upset when waken from her "beauty sleep." And Traci… well how can you begin to describe her? She's a thirteen year old girl who desperately needs to get a life. She has about a hundred sayings that she uses everyday without fail. By now all the girls in the dormitory had gotten to know her quite well.
Both Megan and Anastasia are 13 years old, just like Traci. Donna was fourteen, which makes Sari oldest in room 5, at fifteen, and Lily the youngest at 10. Well, 11 in two days.
"Do I hear voices at 2:30? Do I hear giggling? And why is that? Are we not clear on the rules at St. Bernadette's? Do we not understand that each of you are being taken in out of the goodness of my heart-you don't have to be here! Now what's the problem?" screeched-yes, you guessed it-Ms. Doufahn.
Megan started to whimper again. Traci began to look all superior at knowing that Ms. Doufahn would yell, and that her saying was proved true yet again. She got like that often. Donna just looked bored, and Sari hugged the sobbing Lily closer to her. Anastasia was still sleeping, snoring like an elephant I might add.
"Well, hello. Answer me, my ladies," Ms. Doufahn said dramatically.
"Lily had a bad dream," Sari explained quietly.
"Again?" Madame Doufahn asked, annoyed.
"Yes, she was crying and…" Sari was cut off.
"And while I'm sure this is all quite sweet and endearing, are we NOT clear on the RULES here at St. Bernadette's? BEDTIME means SLEEP and if you DON'T it means D.E.'s!" Ms. Doufahn shouted loudly.
At this Anastasia did wake up (which was nothing short of a miracle). Lily started crying again and Megan gave a startled yelp.
"Well, you know what this means…" Ms. Doufahn said in a much more calm, dignified voice.
At this, all six girls groaned.
"D.E.s for everyone!" she cackled sounding slightly like a mad woman. For some reason she called dishes and errands "D.E.s" as though they were some sort of treat. She tended to come up with odd punishments, but D.E.s were the worst. First, she would make you clean dishes for all three meals of the day. Which wouldn't be too bad, if it weren't for the fact that they almost always had messy food the day they cleaned. After that, be prepared for a day of running up and down blocks, stairs, and streets to deliver and fetch knick-knacks for Ms. Doufahn. It was never anything useful, nor did either task require thinking, but the girls at the orphanage hated D.E.s all the same.
"All right, girls. Get started! Now!"
~*~
A/N: Well? How'd I do? Yes, this was my first fanfic ever. I tried to make this as interesting as possible, but I really had to get out all this boring info. about Lily's childhood out of the way before I begin the actual story at Hogwarts, so I did this at the beginning. She'll find out about being a witch soon enough, I promise. Please review!
Disclaimer: This is all mine! Everything! Really! Hehe, I wish! Lily belongs to the brilliant goddess J.K. Rowling. Gunther Snape, Ms. Doufahn, Sari Lettman, Traci Kryben, Donna Bosley, Megan Tanner, Anastasia Ronsably and the storyline are all mine-really! I'm NOT kidding right now, honest!!! I borrowed a tiny bit of the beginning from Annie, the movie/play etc. The title, The Prince and the Pauper, also does NOT belong to me, but to Mark Twain.
Newly Revised A/N: Well, here's the new & improved chapter 1 complete with prologue! Actually, the prologue is longer than the chapter, but I like it better now. Hope you all like it…I tried to make it less-Annie-like, but for any newcomers along the way – the story does get better, as I think any reader of this story would agree with me.
Thanks for reading!
*Britz*
