This chapter was meant to be much, much, much longer. I think I reached over 12,000 words. But I was stupid and deleted the file that carried it and had to quickly rewrite it again. I know I haven't updated in along time. I've been too busy with school. Note that this chapter is incomplete and I wrote it very angrily due to my careless blunder. But I haven't updated in forever, so might as well...
Chapter THREE: Brand-new Beginning
The following days passed by with little to no significance.
This morning, Tom packed his belongings into a brown suitcase previously owned by Mrs. Cole's husband. He was finally heading for Hogwarts.
Under Mrs. Cole's supervision, Tom was to take a cab ride to Kings Cross station. (As the train tickets Dumbledore gave him suggested.)
"I can fare well on my own." Tom said as he tried to convince Mrs. Cole into letting him venture his way into the train station alone.
"No," she replied. "Absolutely not, I won't allow it! And my word is final."
Mrs. Cole looked more anxious than harassed. "Especially not after what happened to the Carabella's." Mrs. Cole shuddered as she recalled an excerpt from yesterdays newspaper.
Tom had always disliked being assisted as if he were obtuse as the other children his age. But just this once, and never again, he thought to himself, and it eased his temper slightly.
"Martha, don't leave Billy alone. He's starting to pick on his scabs." she ordered before leaving. "And Esme, don't forget Amy and Dennis' morning time stories. It always makes the rest of the day easier for them. Oh, and Annie, one last thing, go in my office and on my desk you should find a pile of papers that needs to be filed. Good luck!"
No one had bidden him farewell as he left that day. Not even the caretakers who had raised him from infantry.
An interminable cab ride ensued, or maybe Tom was just imagining it.
The weather called for a soft drizzle. Twice, the cabdriver had to stop the car and wipe the front windows with his sleeves. He owned a very late model of a buggy car which had no windshield wipers.
Mrs. Cole was sitting in the front seat. She had insisted him to sit in the back seat because it was 'a lot safer'. Her concern irked Tom. He didn't need pity and he didn't want it. But he silently agreed as he didn't want to waste any more time on arguing.
"Tom, are you doing okay back there?" Mrs. Cole called out to Tom, who was looking out the window. But her words were drowned by Tom's thoughts.
He began to ponder at many things as he looked out of the window. He wondered where in the world would Hogwarts sit, away from prying muggle eyes. Surely, something along the lines of a 'magic school' would be very hard to ignore? He wondered whether he would meet people just like him. But he didn't want there to be anyone just like him. At this thought, his hatred for his name grew. Tom had met about a dozen Tom's. He had always wished his first name was as unique as the rest of it.
"Marvolo Riddle?" Amy Benson laughed. Tom could almost smell the salt and mildew again. The sound of waves crashing upon jagged rocks didn't seem too distant. With the cuspate rocks, the fall would have been fatal if Tom had decided to push Amy off.
"What kind of name is that?" Dennis Bishop piped up. "I think your mother hated you."
Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite the same again after that one field trip to the sea side. Serves them right.
The view beyond the window became indistinguishable. Tom was now watching water droplets race to the bottom of the window, but the rain had already ceased.
Tom Marvolo Riddle. Mrs. Cole had said his mother gave him the name Tom Riddle, for his father, and Marvolo for his maternal grandfather.
His mother succumbed to death shortly after enduring labor, with this, Tom concluded that she must have been a muggle. Or else she wouldn't have been so inferior during death. His father however, was alive.
The thoughts on his fathers whereabouts occupied him for a prolonged period of time. How dare he, leave him with such filthy vermin? As if he could be classified in the same lowly level as those orphans who cry for a warm bottle of milk.
Then the car jerked and the sound of a small explosion muffled by metal brought him back to Earth. The cab had stopped moving. It was lucky that they were in the middle of an unoccupied road.
"What in the world?" yelled a frantic Mrs. Cole. She had her hands above her chest and was breathing deeply.
There was dark smoke emitting from the bonnet of the car.
"Angie! My sweet Angie!" cried the cab driver who quickly left the car and went to examine the engines.
"Tom, are you okay?" said Mrs. Cole, breathing heavily.
Tom, who was angered that he was being held up, ignored her question and said, "How far are we from the station? I can walk."
"Absolutely not!" she smacked the glove compartment open and three pieces of peppermint fell out.
"I'm not a baby!" he said angrily.
"Let's get out of the car now before this thing explodes." Mrs. Cole said, failing to sound calm.
When Tom stepped out of the car, the socks within his shoes got soaked as he stepped into a small puddle. Furious, he slammed the car door shut as hard as he could, and the glass of the window shattered.
"No! My poor baby!" moaned the cab driver who then knelt beside his car and started caressing it's peeling paint. He whispered to it, "Angie, my love. I'm sorry I have failed you."
Tom couldn't help but laugh at the pathetic sight. Mrs. Cole saw this and said, "How dare you?"
But as she turned around, Tom swore he caught the slightest grin on her face as the cabdriver continued to whisper mentally to the car, "Angie, be silent. Do not cry. Do not cry for me. We will see each other again in the netherworld."
"Mr. Bryce, are you okay?" Mrs. Cole consulted the cab driver, placing a caring hand on his shoulders.
"Of course I'm not you blithering idiot!" Mr. Bryce slapped Mrs. Cole squarely on the face. Judging from the sound of it, Mr. Bryce must have used all his might.
Tom thought it was impossible to look even more harassed than Mrs. Cole usually did, but he was wrong.
"HOW DARE YOU LAY YOUR HANDS ON A WOMAN!" she shrieked. Her face was red. Tom thought this would have been the most appropriate times for smoke to emit from her ears, like it did in newspaper cartoons.
"You murdered my poor Angie!" Mr. Bryce continued to cry as he started to french kiss the car door handle.
Mrs. Cole looked lost for words. "Tom, go and get your things." she finally managed to say, her voice quivering.
Tom went and retrieved his luggage from inside the trunk. Honestly, he really didn't mean to, but as the trunk door slammed shut, the car accelerated on its own. Mr. Bryce was left face-planted on the concrete floor. It took a moment for him to recover from the unexpected scramming of his late and beloved Angie. Then, as he pinched his bloody nose, he ran and chased after her- - - or it.
Mrs. Cole turned to Tom and grabbed him by the hands and just started walking, abandoning Mr. Bryce.
"Stop dragging me, I'm not a kid!" Tom jerked his hands from Mrs. Cole's grip, but she didn't stop pacing incredibly fast for someone who recently had knee surgery.
"Just follow me." her voice vibrated with every quick step she took.
"Do you even know where to go?" Tom asked, advancing himself to Mrs. Cole's speed, dragging along his wheeled luggage.
They were nearing an old weathered park. It was deserted, it wasn't much of a popular area in town. Tom and the other orphans used to play here during the summers. But he would always just take a seat on one of the moldy benches. What stood out from it was a grand and newly installed fountain. It was white and glimmering unlike the rest of the park which was dark and deteriorating. Propped up on top of it beneath three circular layers of white marble, was a statue of a lone black sheep.
Mrs. Cole started to sweat as they finally walked the fountains diameter. Then, there was a faint familiar voice from behind him, "Hey!" it called out.
Both Mrs. Cole and Tom stopped and turned to look at the source of the voice. In front of the fountain, a silhouette of a little girl against the morning sun was waving it's short arms widely. "Hey! Muggle boy, I know you can hear me!"
A taller figure with the same curly and pony tailed hair smacked the back of the little girls head and shouted, "Don't mutter that word around here!"
"Are they talking to you?" asked Mrs Cole. Tom didn't know why, but he just started walking towards the two figures. Mrs. Cole followed.
They were the same mother and daughter he met at Potage's Cauldron shop. The mother had an arm gently wrapped around the girls neck, whose arm was wrapped around her mothers waist. She had already been wearing her plain black Hogwarts robes.
"I like your dress, Mrs. Cole." said the little girl, indicating Mrs. Cole's working dress that one of the infants threw up on near the neck line.
"Mrs. Toddlemore!" Mrs. Cole exclaimed. "What brings you here?"
"Morning," said the mother. Tom wondered how they knew each other. "It's my daughters first day of school."
Tom felt like he was the only stranger there. Everyone knew each other except him.
"Really? Well it's this lads first day of school as well." engaged Mrs. Cole. "Is she by any chance going to Hogwash?"
"Hogwarts." the little girl corrected with an air of pride. Mrs. Toddlemore stared down at her with authority, so the girl added in a fake sweet voice, "Ma'am."
"I see," said Mrs. Cole. "Now why in the world were you calling us, just moments ago?"
"I don't know myself, actually." said Mrs. Toddlemore, who was exchanging dark looks with her daughter.
"I was going to offer the boy to come with us instead, if he wants." the little girl offered. "We know a faster route to the station."
"Do you know each other?" asked Mrs. Cole, looking from the little girl and back to Tom.
"We've met." he added.
"Well?" asked the girl, impatiently.
"I'm going." Tom said to Mrs. Cole.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I am! The faster I leave, the better!"
Tom didn't very much like the girl, she seemed to have some of the worst qualities he loathed the most; loud, obnoxious, and rude. But there had been too many delays on his way to Hogwarts, and the anticipation was killing him. He could manage.
"Fine." Mrs. Cole gave up. "Watch over him." she said Mrs. Toddlemore while giving a slight glare towards Tom.
"Certainly." Mrs. Toddlemore assured her.
Mrs. Cole knelt down and whispered to Tom, "Well, this is the last I'll be seeing you for a while. Be good." Then, she embraced him in the first hug he had ever received. She stood up and dusted the skirt of her gown. "Goodbye." and she strode off.
Once Mrs. Cole had gone, the girl held out a hand. "My name's Piper." she introduced herself.
After a moments hesitation he shook the girls hand. "Tom." he said.
"I don't usually associate myself with people like you." she said rather bluntly.
"Excuse me?" Tom asked furiously.
"Mud- - -Muggleborns, I mean." Piper began. "But I haven't seen another witch or wizard my age because I've been grounded for a year. I've only been able to befriend muggles since then; they're not as bad as I expected, but still. The desperation gets to you when you've been around them long enough."
Desperation? Tom felt angry, she was basically regarding him as a last resort and had the nerve to suggest they'd be friends.
"What exactly is a muggleborn?" he asked more calmly than how he was really feeling. Tom figured she would be only good to practice his temper on. He knew the blue in Dumbledore's eyes weren't the reason why they were so piercing. No, it was a type of magic that he should approach with caution.
"A witch or wizard with non-magical parents." she answered.
"How can you be so sure?" Tom asked, feeling a twinge of disappointment towards his heritage.
"Well, you were brought up in a muggle orphanage, weren't you?"
Mrs. Toddlemore kicked her on the leg again, like she did back at Potage's. "I can't believe how rude you can be, sometimes!" she said.
"Its getting late, let's go." Piper said, ignoring her mother. Piper heaved herself up on the rim of the fountain.
"Only two people can fit, and with this boy's luggage, that's an even bigger hassle." said Mrs. Toddlemore, looking up at the fountain.
"What are you talking about?" Tom asked. Fit where?
"We're travelling through the fountain. It was built when we moved to this neighborhood." Piper explained. "For business reasons, my mother said."
"How exactly does that work?" Tom surveyed the fountain for any evidence of something like a door.
"You'll see." said Piper.
Mrs. Toddlemore shared an affectionate hug with her daughter. "Well, you go along with the boy. But three of us can't fit. I've got some business to settle with your uncle. Be safe, love you."
Piper looked embarrassed, brushing her mother off, "I know mom, I know!"
"Don't forget to write to me. Have a good school year!" Then in a blink of an eye and a loud cracking sound, she had gone.
"What just happened?" Tom asked curiously.
"She just apparated."
Tom was very eager to be exposed to more magic. He climbed on the rim of the fountain, struggling with his luggage. His eyes were still fixed upon the place where Mrs. Toddlemore just 'apparated.'
"Don't get too excited," said Piper as she jumped on the second layer of the fountain. "They won't teach us how to do that until our seventh year."
Piper leaped on the final layer. "Follow me! Make sure there are no muggles around." she instructed.
It was very difficult to climb the fountain without getting wet. Being burdened with a heavy luggage didn't help. Tom groaned as half of his pants got soaked on his way to the third inner rim of the fountain.
Piper looked very ridiculous, sitting on the black sheep. But if the magical world had taught him anything so far, it was that not everything was as it seems. He grunted in complaint of his soggy shoes and pants.
After he had positioned himself on top of the sheep, the circular white marble base that the Sheep was propped up on began to spin slowly. They were elevating down the fountain. The light was getting dimmer as they spun deeper down a hole. As if things couldn't get any more inconvenient, a gush of water poured down on them from the top. They were soaking wet from top to bottom.
Tom recalled a flashback from one of his visits to this very fountain. The orphans were playing their invented water games in the fountain, and little Peter was caught doing both number one and two on the spot. Peter became a laughing stock for a week since nothing interesting ever happened in the orphanage. They made sure to stress Peter's accident as much as possible.
Tom spat the water that found its way into his mouth with disgust, knowing that Peter's digestions were probably being recycled over and over again through the fountain water.
"I forgot about that. It's still a bit under construction." she said, twisting the water out of her hair.
The water had collected up to their knees. "Well, I am thirsty." she shrugged and cupped her hands to gather water. Tom could have warned her, but this was too funny to miss. By then she had already drunk the water and possibly some fecal matter.
All light was eliminated when the entrance on the top was blocked by another circle of concrete. It was silent except for their breathing and the sound of draining water.
Tom suddenly felt a weird but rather satisfying sensation. It was as if the softest pillows were pressing down on him from every side of his body. After it had stopped, he noticed he was air dry again.
"What now?" Tom asked Piper.
But a different voice answered, "What is your destination?" said a deep baritone voice. Tom suspected this must have been the sheep statue.
"Kings Cross." answered Piper in the darkness. They began to slowly spin upwards this time. When it stopped, still, nothing happened.
"What now?" Tom repeated.
"Help me push the top." said Piper, who sounded as if she were struggling with something. When Tom suddenly heard the sound of wind, and saw a crescent crack of light from above, he understood.
They emerged from what was a manhole cover. They were now in a corner of a dim and deserted alley. The alley walls stretched very far to where the square of light emitting from the end of the alley from perspective was tiny.
Piper pushed the manhole cover back in it's place, which had The London Sewerage System engraved on it.
Hauling his luggage, they quickly ran to the small square of light. As they got closer, they noticed many people dressed in business attire were all walking in one direction. Instinctively, they followed. As soon as they left the dark alleyway, Tom heard something like a soft thundering. He looked back and found that the alley they had emerged from was gone.
They were strolling within a crowd of muggles. He could tell from their boring appearances. "Where are we going, exactly?" he wondered out loud. All he knew was that they were in a train station. But why with muggles?
"We need to find Platform Nine and Three Quar-hey watch it!" exclaimed Piper, who at the same time, accidentally walked into a lady wearing an outfit inappropriate for the weather. She wore yellow floral beach shorts that clashed terribly with her violent purple sweatshirt.
"Are you two lost?" she asked concernedly.
"Mrs. Quagmire!" Piper gasped.
"Ehh?" said Mrs. Quagmire in confusion. "Do I know you?"
"I'm my mothers daughter." explained Piper.
"No! Really?" she said, heavy sarcasm.
"I mean Mrs. Toddlemore." said Piper, sounding rather grumpy.
"Oh!" Mrs. Quagmire exclaimed. "But we've never met?"
"No."
"So how do you know who I am? She doesn't talk about me a lot, does she?" she asked, patting her bouncy bob haircut and looking very flattered all the same.
"Not really." replied Piper, and at this, Mrs. Quagmire looked very disappointed. "I've seen you and my mother speaking a couple times. Always for business reasons." Rolling her eyes, she continued, "She tells me to keep to my room, but I was listen from the banisters. You won't tell her, won't you?"
"'Course not." Mrs. Quagmire said, still sounding offended and muttered more to herself than to anyone else, "Especially if she doesn't appreciate me enough to tell her own daughter about me..."
Meanwhile, Tom just stood there, growing more and more impatient. Mrs. Quagmire eyed him, and Tom could tell from how she looked at her from top to bottom, that she was judging him. "Who's he?" she asked smugly.
"Just a friend." said Piper. From what Tom recalled, they were never 'friends', but he chose to ignore this. "Could you tell us where Platform 9 3/4 is?"
"Surely. I just escorted my son there, actually. I've been itching to go home. I hate being seen in this muggle attire." Mrs. Quagmire turned around and pointed at a seemingly plain brick wall dividing Platforms Nine and Ten. "Just walk straight through that barrier."
Tom wondered what it was about the Wizarding World and brick walls. From the entrance to Diagon Alley and the exit from the dark alley, now this.
"Follow me." instructed Mrs. Quagmire, and they obeyed. "You just have to run straight through with confidence." she continued, screwing her face up i determination and posed as if she were a marathon runner about to sprint.
"We get it, you said that already." said Piper, looking weirdly at Mrs. Quagmire who was modeling the way they should run through the barrier.
"Okay, got your things?" asked Mrs. Quagmire. Tom slightly held up his luggage, Mrs. Quagmire nodded.
"All my things are already at Hogwarts." explained Piper, staring at the brick wall with determination.
"Alright, go!"
This was it, he was officially leaving the muggle world and all its nuisances. He couldn't help but feel a jolt of excitement as he ran through the barrier. All of a sudden the atmosphere changed. It was much more alive and bearable.
A wrought-iron archway stood before him with the words Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Many, like Piper, were already dressed in their Hogwarts robes. There were many Trolleys stationed here and there filled with wacky items. He could tell that everyone chose to shop at Diagon Alley, recognizing the many whimsical objects he eyed while his stay there.
A girl or a boy, Tom could not tell, was showing off his or her Silver Arrow broomstick among a group of dumb-struck looking friends. "It's the latest model!" he or she said in a unisex voice.
At his feet, a cat chewed on his shoes. He attempted to shoo it away but it returned and proceeded to chew.
"Get off!" said Tom but it did not scram.
A small boy with blonde hair approached him and picked the cat up by the skin of its neck. "Sorry about that. It's my sisters." the boy said.
He held out a pale and skinny hand. "Name's Avery." he introduced himself.
"Tom." said Tom, shaking his hand.
Avery was examining Tom's second hand clothes and second hand luggage. A few corners of Tom's possessions were patched or frayed. But instead of giving a prideful and disgusted look, Avery showed sympathy.
"You know you should get going and pack your things." said Avery who gestured a hand for Tom to follow him towards the train.
Before Tom followed, he looked around for Piper. There was no sign of her frizzy pony-tailed hair. She must have already entered the train.
Avery had lead him to an empty compartment. All the other carriages were crowded. He helped Tom load his luggage up the steps. Avery had suggested he changed into his Hogwarts robes. So while Tom was digging through his luggage, he shielded Avery's view from seeing the clutter of his second hand things. Tom had changed into his robes and pocketed his yew wand.
The scarlet steam engine hooted. Tom seated himself next to the window and looked dully out of it. Avery took the seat in front of him.
From beyond the window there were parents kissing their children goodbye. Only the younger students were crying.
"So," said Avery, interrupting Tom's drifting thoughts. "It's my first year too. But I have an older sister and it's her seventh and last year at Hogwarts."
"Have you asked her what it's like?" asked Tom, still peering out the window.
"She said it's really big and they have stairs that move and portraits that talk, and everything." said Avery in a rush of excitement.
"Portraits that talk? And by moving stairs, do you mean they have escalators?" engaged Tom.
"What are escalators? Never heard of that before." said Avery, looking confused.
"Never mind." said Tom. The train whistled and advanced on. Many arms stretched from their compartment windows waving goodbye until their parents were out of sight. Tom even saw one of them apparate.
The compartment door slammed open. Piper entered their carriage and sat next to Tom. But she also brought with her a boy with dark curly hair who sat next to Avery. He seemed very egotistic and it was as if his mother spent hours on his appearance.
"I'm Lestrange. Edmond Lestrange." said the new boy proudly. Whilst everyone introduced themselves, the compartment door slid open once more.
A petite kind nature faced woman appeared with a cart full of food, a majority of which were sweets. "Anything from the trolley?" she beamed at them.
Lestrange stood up looking very pleased with himself and said, "Four of everything, please."
Once the lady left and their goodies were assembled together in one corner, everyone except Tom reached eagerly from the pile.
"Thanks." said Avery, mouthful of licorice.
"No problem. I am very capable, financially." replied Lestrange who was opening a blue box embroidered with gold that had the words Chocolate Frog on it.
To Tom's surprise a life-like frog jumped out of the box and onto his lap. Lestrange made a quick grab for it and bit off its head.
"That's not a real frog, is it?" asked Tom.
Lestrange swallowed before he spoke, "Wait, you mean to tell me you're a muggleborn?"
"He is." said Piper, instead who was trying to catch her own frog.
"What?" said Tom, offended. "I don't know what I am but I'm certainly not the offspring of those kind of- - -"
"You were born in a muggle orphanage!" said Piper. Tom did not like how she puts up his business like that.
"My parents could have easily been a witch and wizard." said Tom desperately. "I was already good at magic before I even knew I had it."
"Well," Lestrange began. "There is still a chance you're a half-blood. And even if you're a muggle born, I like the way you think." he said, holding out a hand.
Hesitantly, Tom shook it. "I can speak to snakes." Tom couldn't help but offer up. Dumbledore had briefly mentioned that it was a rare gift.
Piper choked on her chocolate frog. "You never told me that!" she said.
"Then you must be a pureblood." said Lestrange who held out his hands again. Tom accepted the gesture, he noticed that Lestrange's handshake was much more enthusiastic this time.
A surge of relief flooded his body. "That trait can only exist in purebloods, I'm sure." said Avery staring at Tom with awe.
It seemed, Avery, Lestrange, and Pipers brazen smug attitudes were already rubbing off on him.
