AN: The first actual prose I have posted on this site. Any plot inconsistencies are all mine.

Disclaimer: Only my ideas belong to me. The rest is JKR's.

Summary: What if Merope Gaunt had been given one more Galleon for her locket, and survived Tom's birth? Would he have turned out any differently?

December 1926

Caractus Burke kept shop long after the other Knockturn Alley merchants left their merchandise and returned to hungry babies and waifish wives, taking their meager profits with them. The Ministry had recently put out a new decree that specified that "any wizard or witch caught in possession of a dark object with the intent to sell or use it will be banned from business and prosecuted." Some salesmen whose products consisted of only dark materials were forced out of business by a dwindling trade. Others tried to revert to more socially acceptable forms of business, but failed miserably. The only business available in Knockturn Alley was dark business, and nearly every customer was afraid of being sent to Azkaban. However, there were always those who needed the money that a pawnshop like Borgin and Burke's could provide. Those were the customers that Caractus Burke stayed open for.

No ministry official was fool enough to venture into the Alley after sundown. Even armed with a wand, an Auror could be overtaken. The example of Demetrius Cowwel was often used. Cowwel was the leader of the Aurors back in the day, and even though he was a bit cracked in the mind, he was dangerously sharp-witted. He took it upon himself to "scourgify London of the vermin that inhabit it." A mob of vicious shopowners and customers killed him and left his head on the street sign. Ever since the Cowwel incident, the ministry would only pry into business on Knockturn Alley in broad daylight.

Of course, it was also dangerous for a wealthy wizard like Burke to leave his door unlocked at the time when the streets began to run with blood. No other shopkeeper dared. Burke was no fool, however. No wizard with a valuable Dark object would take it to his store while the sun was shining. He could be mugged by any greedy wizard prowling the streets, or worse, captured by the Aurors. The best business always took place well after sunset. Why, just last week, old Nicolade Stobbs sold him a miraculous potion that would cause the face of the drinker to implode. A magnificent deal! Old Nicolade only wanted six galleons for a potion that could be sold for forty. The old man had come into his shop shortly after midnight in his usual cautious manner. No matter how senile he became, old Nicolade would never make a bargain while Aurors were about.

And last month Ada Simms had come in petrified of being caught with her grandmother's dark amulet. She was willing to part with it for a handful of sickles. Burke resold it the next day to an odd-looking foreign wizard for fifteen galleons.

To Burke, it seemed a bit odd that on Christmas Eve he had nearly no business. Usually the idea of having family overrun his household was enough to make a stingy wizard sell. And if a witch was running low on money, she certainly wouldn't think twice before stopping in. After all, her children would be heartbroken if there weren't any presents under the tree.

He peered out of the shop's small window, watching for a potential customer. Burke was quite attuned to wizardkind. He could nearly always tell when a passerby had a valuable object with them. There was something in the way that they walked, kind of hunched over, like they were trying to protect it from physical harm. And if they were acknowledged in the street, they would immediately assume a defensive pose.

His competitors said that Caractus Burke was a magician. The owner of Scrintch's Pawnshop down the Alley would tell anyone who would listen that "Burke'll take your money without even think about it. If he tells you it's worth five galleons, it's probably worth fifty." Of course, this was true, but Burke had a certain allure and charm to his customers. His credentials seemed to speak for him. He was the only wizard on Knockturn Alley to still be making a decent profit after the new Ministry law. This was not due to his fairness and likeability, as certain wizards were wont to think, but instead due to his scamming technique.

Burke briefly entertained the idea that Julius Scrintch had finally succeeded in drawing away his customers, and then shook it off. Scrintch had half the customers that he used to. Highly improbable.

As Burke watched, a lone figure wandered down the street without even a wand drawn for protection. Any shopowner on the bordering Diagon Alley would have gladly opened their door and let the stranger in for tea, but Burke was much too wary. This could be a new Auror technique. No one, least of all one of the Alley's usual type would suspect a beggar as law enforcement. However, Burke was not one of the usual Alley scum. He focused on the lowlife as it made its way toward his shop.


Merope Gaunt was so hungry she felt nauseous. It had been at least four days without a meal. Scrounging in Muggle rubbish bins was all she was capable of doing now. Depression had taken its toll on her, sapping her of her magical ability. She had no means of making money either; no one would hire a single soon-to-be-mother in her condition. This was the first time she had entered the magical world since she married Tom Riddle. A pureblood descendent of Salazar Slytherin was left to fend for herself on the streets of London.

When Merope was younger, she used to wait until Marvolo would pass out drunk, and then sneak out of the house into the Little Hangleton library. For such a withdrawn personality, Merope had a wonderful imagination. She could sit for hours on the floor in the Children's Library and read fairy tales. Unlike most wizard children, she had never been interested in magical fairy tales. Marvolo called her a squib. What was the point in pretending that one day she would have a wand and go to Hogwarts when becoming a princess and living happily ever after was more likely?

Cinderella was Merope's favorite story. She thought that the heroine was just like her: forced to serve her family, but patiently awaiting the day where she would break free and live her own life. But Merope knew she didn't have a fairy godmother; squibs had to make it for themselves in the Wizarding world. No one would help a squib like her.

She would never have left Tom. When she was sixteen years old, she fell in love with him. She owl-ordered several books that she figured could help her win his heart. For the first time in her life, she tried to dabble in magic. To pay for the books, she magically stole money from a passing muggle, and did the Currency Conversion spell she had read up on. It actually worked. Merope was overjoyed with the twenty galleons she now had and her burgeoning magical ability.

Non-magical workings would never help her hook Tom Riddle. Merope was plain-faced, even ugly. She lived in a shack with a criminal brother and a drunkard father. No rich young man like Tom would ever choose her over a beautiful society girl.

Love potions. In Merope's opinion, only a magical means like a love potion would work. The one she choose was incredibly potent; strong enough to make Tom love her for love, as long as she could keep forcing him to take it. On a hot summer's day last year, Merope had partially emptied the vial in a glass of water she offered Tom.

Only after Marvolo and Morfin were gone did she finally have the nerve. Even being a semi-capable witch, she was still frightened of them.

Within four weeks Tom and Merope were married and enamored with each other. The elder Riddles could make no sense of it. Wasn't he making plans to propose to Cecilia just last month? Merope deserted the wizarding world and devoted all of her time to her husband, trying desperately to pretend he actually loved her.

And here she was, a year later. Pregnant, with no husband to help her. Merope didn't even like to think about Tom leaving her. The betrayal was too deep. She didn't slip it into his drink for a week, just to see what would happen. She told herself that at the first sign that he didn't love her, she would put him back on it. He gave her no such sign. Seven days after she last gave it to him, he left. She came home one day from the market and he was gone without a trace.

Merope became nearly suicidal. The small amount of magical prowess she had discovered deserted her. She was left with a baby in her womb, the last remnant of the man she loved. Her heart still ached for Tom. The romantic things he had said to her; the lovely flowers he brought home to grace their dinner table; the chocolates that he fed to her. She always knew that it had been an illusion, but she refused to admit it to herself. In her deluded mind, a small ray of hope whispered to her that he did love her, and he always would.

Knockturn Alley was the one place she could go to. Her father's locket, Slytherin's locket, was her last possession. Before she died, this would be one last slap in his face. When he returned from Azkaban, his house would be a shambles, and his most prized possession sold to the seediest trader she could find. Marvolo would never torment her again. Marvolo would never torment anyone again, if she could help it.

The locket dangled around her skinny neck as she turned the corner into the dark alleyway. While Diagon Alley had a perpetually happy environment, its neighboring street reminded Merope of the nightmares that haunted her sleep. Rats scurried about in the shadows, while dark eyes watched her from barred windows. What was this creature doing, disrupting the silence?

The one building that had any sign of life in it was Caractus Burke's pawnshop. Merope had heard much about the dealer from Marvolo. Many years ago, Burke had cheated her father out of a hundred galleons for a dark object. Marvolo never forgave him. What could possibly hurt him more than this betrayal? His daughter practically giving away a priceless locket.

Merope giggled at her last act of treachery, and then opened the shop door.


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