What might have been: The Tom Riddle story

by F3nrisulfr171

What might have happened if the power the dark lord knows not gives his mother the strength and courage to live. This is a story where Tom riddle grows up and receives the love of his mother that could have made all the difference in his life. Still brilliant, still powerful and still ambitious. But is he still evil? We'll find out. AU Tom Riddle.

2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and it's characters are owned by J.K. Rowling, not me.

Chapter 1

December, 1933

It had been almost seven years to the day that Merope Riddle came into the leaky cauldron, begging for a job and a place to stay. True to her word, she had been a hard worker, washing dishes and cleaning the rooms with never a complaint. She never asked for money and refused it when Tom offered, sticking to the original bargain that she would work in exchange for food and lodging. She didn't feel like she was ill-treated and so long as her son had a roof over his head and a full belly, she was content.

Merope loved her son dearly and Tom loved her just as much. She was never cross with him, and he never gave her reason to be. He was well behaved and very considerate of his mother's feelings, fragile though they were at times. Despite their close relationship, the two shared little in common. While Merope was shy and reserved, Tom was confident and charismatic, even for his young age. Where his mother was clumsy and slightly dim, Tom was talented at anything he did. He showed a great amount of intellect and put it to good use. Whether it was learning to speak at an unusually young age or learning to read on his own, then memorizing anything that he found useful or interesting, there seemed to be nothing that he could not do with ease.

With his intelligence as it was, Tom understood from a young age the situation that his mother and he were in. They were poor and therefore, they must work for their bread. Tom knew how hard his mother worked and at the tender age of four, he went to Old Tom to offer his own services, such as they were. At first, old Tom refused. Then the boy laid his argument out in numbers, showing the landlord that a normal maid's wages were not enough to cover the cost of the average room per night, combined with three meals a day for two people. He didn't like the thought of being beholden to another and he wanted to earn his keep fair and square, but even with the sound financial argument coming from the boy, the man refused. It was one thing to have the mother working, but the boy was just that, a boy. He shouldn't have to bear the burden of providing so soon in life. Maybe it was because they shared the same name, but old Tom had a soft spot for the lad and told him he ought to enjoy his youth, rather than toiling it away. Merope found out and was insistent that their livelihood was her responsibility and hers alone, but Tom was adamant. He would not be a burden on his mother, and he would not be a charity case. He wouldn't waste time playing childish games while his dear mother broke her back under the yoke of labor. The small boy demanded that he be given work.

Old Tom couldn't help but admire the boy's motives and realized he wouldn't take no for an answer. It reminded him of the day he gave the mother a job. Right stubborn she was and old Tom, being a softy, finally relented.

Another difference should be noted between mother and son. Merope Riddle was, to put it plainly, rather plain, even homely. Young Tom on the other hand, was as handsome as a child could be. With a genteel face, dark hair and eyes combined with his natural charisma, he was adored by any witch who saw him. Old Tom noticed this stark contrast between the mother and child and decided that he would put it to good use. Since Tom demanded work, he put the boy on the pub floor, busting tables and greeting customers. He was a hit of course. He was charming and polite, and the customers had nothing but praise for the poor fatherless boy who worked hard to help his unfortunate mother.

Soon, Tom was able to become a waiter. Naturally, Old Tom allowed him to keep any tips he made. All sorts of magical folk came through the leaky cauldron and Tom learned a great deal about how people worked. He Learned when to give a compliment and how to be a good story listener. Some stories were grand tales of the world from globe-trotting wizards, while others were about an old lady's pet kneazle. Either way, Tom was the perfect audience and it paid off. He was able to read their mannerisms and expressions to anticipate their needs. He became so good at reading and dealing with people, that he knew exactly how to get the biggest tip possible from anyone. Whether it was an extra bit of honey on their toast, or making sure the temperature of the tea matched their preferences so they wouldn't have to wait for it to cool down. Sometimes he would even go so far as to hint at his family situation. Of course, he never outright said anything that made him appear weak. That would be like begging. Tom didn't have much, but he had his pride. But even just a hint, like 'Being the man of the house is no easy job.' or 'I just wish mother didn't have to work so hard.' Usually earned him a whole extra knut from the right person.

"Here you are sir." Six-year-old Tom Riddle said while coming over to a table. "One plate of bangers and mash" He set the plate down in front of a diminutive man. "And two full English breakfasts for you sir." The plate two plates were set down in front of a boy who was nearly as big as the man across from him.

"Thank ya lad." The short man replied. "But there aint no need fer ya ta call ma boy sir. After all, 's hardly three years ol'."

Tom's eyes widened at this and looked at the man's son. "You're son?" 'How did this tiny man produce this bear of a creature? And he's only three? What, was his mother a giant or something?' Tom schooled his features when he saw the 'boy's' reaction. From the embarrassed look on his face, he seemed to be rather self-conscious of his size. Not wanting to lose his tip, he quickly nodded and smiled at the kid. "You're having me on sir. You're telling me that this well-mannered young gentleman is only three? Why, we have full grown men in here who aren't half so well behaved as this little fellow."

Now instead of being red-faced from embarrassment, the giant toddler's blush came from the compliment that Tom paid him. Not only had the big kid called him a little fellow, but he also thought that he was well mannered. He smiled and sat up a little straighter.

Tom mentally wiped his brow. If he kept this up, he might just salvage his tip after all. Maybe he'd even get more than a single knut. "Of course, I shouldn't be surprised. The lad obviously was raised by a distinguished gentleman. I must say that his resemblance to you in look and manners is uncanny sir." The boy smiled even wider, and his father grinned as well.

"Now, make sure you eat up young sir if you want to be strong like your father." He turned to the father and asked, "Anything else for you sir?"

"Wouldn't mind a pint now't you mention it."

"Da!" The 'little' boy looked upset. "Ya promised not till after supper."

"Ah well, but ya can' expect a man to go all day without a lit'l somat to pick 'im up, eh Rubeus?"

The boy folded his arms and frowned at his father. "Ah, fine. Ya win. Just a coffee then lad." Tom nodded "Could'n make tha' of the Irish persuasion, could ya?"

"Of course, sir. Right away." Tom left the table to fetch the beverage before continuing on with tending to the other tables.

He took a tea tray to a wizard sitting at a booth reading the daily prophet. "Bloody mess the whole lot of it." The wizard grumbled. "The muggles have their depression, Grindelwald's on the loose, war on the horizon, and these fools are still printing stories about a kelpie in loch Ness. Utter disgrace."

"Bumblers at the prophet at it again milord?"

"Ah, young Thomas. How fare you this fine wintry day?" He set the paper down to greet the boy as he placed his morning tea in front of him.

"It's just Tom milord." He corrected with a polite smile. "Of course, as I say so every time you come in here, I imagine you will simply forget by next time."

"Indeed." The man nodded good naturedly. "And my memory will likely continue to be spotty until you cease with the 'milord' bit. Tit for tat eh lad? I insist that you call me Alfred"

"Forgive me sir, but I'm just a boy. A waiter can hardly call a member of the Wizengamot by his first name."

"Tom, I will tell you this once." He wagged a finger dramatically. "Unless we are referring to the law, 'just' is an awful word. 'Just a boy.' 'Just a waiter'." He shook his head disapprovingly. "Do not define yourself by your station or age. Never say that you are 'just' anything. You are a wizard!" He thumped the table for emphasis. "The same as me, and an Englishman to boot, never forget that."

Tom smiled and nodded. Alfred Greengrass was one of his favorite customers. He was a wealthy pureblood and member of the wizengamot, but not only did he tip generously, he also never failed to treat Tom as an equal, despite the vast difference between their age and stations in life. "Thank you, sir. I must be getting on with work now. Enjoy the tea." He bowed and turned away.

"Keep up that work ethic and you'll be joining me in those stands lad, you mark my words." Alfred called after him.

Tom smiled and looked over his shoulder. "You can count on that Milord."

The rest of the morning continued in the same fashion. Tom filled orders, cleared tables and bantered with the regulars. It was hard to believe that he was only 6 years old from the way he carried himself, but that's just how Tom was. He was a natural when it came to people.

While the environment was not ideal for a child, Tom made the best of things. The people were kind for the most part and though he was not living in the lap of luxury, the work was 'honest' as his mother and old Tom would say, and it kept them off the streets. But despite his outward smile and friendliness, he held within him the fires of discontent. He hated that he had to live this life. Oh sure, some interesting witches and wizards came in and he made the acquaintance of many influential and important people, but at the end of the day, he was a servant. That fact galled him and every day, he had to remind himself that this was only temporary.

One day, he would make it so that he never had to worry about money again. He would be successful and well respected, like Lord Greengrass. He wouldn't have to live above a pub in a tiny room. He would have a mansion and servants. He would make it so that his mother never had to work another day in her life. She'd have fine robes and jewelry and anything she wanted. He would pull her out of this squalid life of misery and into the life that she deserved. She was too good for this place. He was too good for this place. Everyday his ambition grew stronger, and he knew that it would be realized.

But that day was too far off for his liking and for now, he was Tom Riddle, the waiter.

"Enjoy the meal sir?" Tom came around to clear the table of the small man and his large son.

"Tha' I did lad. An' ya don' need ta call me sir. Call me Hagrid, everyone does." The short man gestured to his son. "My boy here's named Rubeus."

"lo sir." Rubeus said shyly and Tom nodded.

"Pleased to meet you both. Can I take your plates away?"

"Sure thing lad. And here's somat for yer trouble." He dropped some coins on the table and left, followed by his son.

Tom picked the money up and counted them out. Noticing that there was a bit too much, he was tempted to pocket the difference, but there was always the chance that the man would come back. The amount over was too big for the man not to miss and he decided to not take the chance. Besides, he wasn't a thief. Tom called after the man.

"Sir, Sorry, but it looks like you overpaid the bill." Tom said reluctantly.

"Oh, did I now?" Hagrid Sr.'s beetle black eyes twinkled. "How much by?"

"There's an extra sickle here. I'm sure you only meant to put a knut." Tom held out a silver coin to return it to the man.

"Oh, well tha's jus' fine then. Tha's yer tip lad. Mighty fine service ya gave us." He then whispered conspiratorially in Tom's ear. "Not ter mention ya made me boy feel just grand. Always frettin about his size he is. Can' thank ya enough fer that." He then ushered his boy out of the pub and Tom was left feeling somewhere between confused and incredibly pleased at the money he earned.

"Oi, young Tom!" Old Tom yelled. "Once ya finish clearin the tables, you can be off till dinner time."

"Yes sir." Tom replied, before pocketing his silver sickle.

Break

As soon as he had finished with the tables, Tom raced off to the room that he and his mother shared. It was one of the smaller accommodations, with a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a small bathroom through a side door. Closing the door behind him, Tom walked over to the bed, which was barely big enough for him and his mother to share. Looking around to make sure nobody was looking, he crouched down and reached underneath the bed, prying up a loose floorboard as he did so. He extracted an old wooden box about six inches deep, a foot wide and just as long. The fact that there was a live black adder coiled up on the top of his box didn't seem to bother him. It raised its head and looked Tom straight in the eye.

"Morning Rowan. Time for a deposit." Tom hissed in Parseltongue.

The snake nodded and slithered up Tom's arm while he set the box on the ground. He opened it up to reveal a small pile of knuts filling up the box to the halfway mark. Emptying two or three handfuls of copper coins from his pockets and into the box, he stopped when he saw the silver sickle. He held it up and examined it with awe. "You see this Rowan?" He asked the snake. "It's a sickle. The first sickle I have ever earned." He said proudly. "Soon there will be more. Eventually there will even be galleons. Then I can take us and mother out of here. You can eat more than just rats. It's only a matter of time."

"But I like rats." Rowan hissed.

"That's beside the point." Tom hissed back in annoyance.

"Oh, well, what is the point?"

"I just mean, when we're wealthy, you won't have to hunt in the basement and alleyways for your meals."

"But I like hunting."

Tom scowled. "Rowan, why do you always have to be so difficult?"

"Rowan arguing with you again dearest?" Merope walked into the room and Tom spun around quickly. Doing his best to look innocent, he tried to hide the box of coins from his mother's view. Luckily, Merope seemed to be distracted as she carried a hand full of laundry. "Um, yes mother."

The day that Merope realized that her son could talk to snakes didn't come as a surprise to her. She suspected that he would likely have that ability given her heritage. Though she never spoke the language herself as a result from her traumatic past, she was proud that he possessed the gift. But then, she never could feel anything but pride for her son. Pride and love. She absently wondered if her own father might be proud of her brilliant child. He was handsome, intelligent and had an affinity for snakes. She even let him keep a snake that he had found a few years back. She was worried at first that Tom might pick up some more unsavory habits from the Gaunt side, but Rowan turned out to be a good friend for the boy. Still, she wished he would make friends his own age who were a little more… Human.

"And what is the disagreement about this time?" She asked with interest as she started to fold some worn and tattered clothes.

"Oh, nothing important." He tried to close the box with as much stealth as possible.

"What have you got there?" The mother asked curiously, and the boy froze. "Tom?"

"It-it's nothing mother." He tried to slide the box under the bed but stopped when he saw his mother's hurt expression.

"Tom… are you trying to hide something from me?" She asked, close to tears.

"No! No mother I wasn't hiding it exactly…" He tried to explain. "I was just… Trying to surprise you."

"Surprise me? Surprise me with what?" She asked as she sat on the bed. Tom got to his feet with the box and sat next to her.

"With this." He handed it over and she pulled the lid off to look inside. She brought a hand to her mouth as she saw the number of coins that were in the box.

"Tom, where on earth did you get all this? There must be a thousand knuts in here." Shock was evident in her face.

"Two thousand, five hundred actually. Counting what I earned this morning, and look." He pulled out the sickle and showed it to his mother with pride. "Someone gave me a whole sickle. This makes over five galleons mother."

"But where? How?" She just couldn't understand how Tom had gotten all this money. She almost wanted to ask if he had stolen it, but she knew better than to suspect her little Tom of wrongdoing.

"I've been saving it. Every tip I've gotten, every knut earned has gone into this box. Rowan's been guarding it for me." The boy explained and the black adder nodded.

"But there's so much."

"About three years' worth." Tom nodded. "I was going to show you when it was full, but you found me out. Someone was supposed to keep a lookout." He gave the snake a dirty look. If it had shoulders, it would have shrugged.

"Tom, that money was supposed to be for you to spend. For you to buy sweets or toys." She looked at him sadly.

"But I didn't want sweets or toys mother." Tom replied.

"Well, what are you saving up for then, a broomstick maybe? New clothes?" She was trying to work out what her son was thinking. "I could try and make you something-"

"I'm saving to leave this place." Tom replied earnestly. "I mean-" Tom realized what he said too late.

"L-leave?" She said in a panic and Merope started to tear up again. "You want to leave Tom?"

"Nonono." He waved his hands hastily. "I want us to leave mother. Together. You, me and Rowan." He put a hand on hers and her anxiety died down. "Someday I'll have enough to take us away from here. Then you won't have to work yourself so hard. Maybe we'll even get a house elf. I'll be able to take care of you. Like father used to."

Merope's heart sank at the mention of her old husband. She never did tell Tom the truth about his father. She told him that he was a country gentleman who was disowned for marrying a poor girl like her. As far as her son was concerned, his father worked hard to support them, but died sometime before he was born. She didn't have the heart to tell him that he abandoned them. Now she was afraid Tom might follow in his father's footsteps. With troubled eyes she looked at her child. "Are you unhappy here Tom?"

Tom thought for a moment. Talking with his mother always required a certain amount of tact. Choosing his words carefully, he replied. "I am always happy as long as I'm with you." She pulled him into a tender hug, which he returned.

"And you are my happiness dearest. And after all, the landlord takes such good care of us."

"Yes, he does." Tom admitted grudgingly. He held nothing against old Tom, he even sort of liked the old codger. But taking care of his mother was his responsibility. He wouldn't sit idle while they were essentially destitute and reliant on the mercy of others, no matter how kind they were. "But don't you want more mother? Don't you want our own place?"

She cupped his face in her hands. "All that I want, or need is right here." She kissed his forehead. Tom was about to press on, but Merope changed the subject. "Now then, we have an important day coming up on us, don't we dearest?" She asked with a smile.

"Yes, I suppose we do." Tom didn't try and fight the change of conversation. He would bring the matter up again when he had the means to make good on his promise. "The leaky cauldron is usually rather busy at Christmas." 'more to our good fortune. People are always more generous during the yule tide.'

"Well, yes, it is, but I wasn't talking about Christmas." Merope shook her head. "I meant your birthday Tom."

"Oh, that. It isn't all that important." He tried to deflect. He knew where she was going with this and he got slightly uncomfortable.

"Don't say such things dearest. The day you came to me was the most important of my life. Not to mention this will be your seventh, a very important birthday."

Tom held in a sigh. "If you say so mother."

"I do." She said firmly. "Now then, about your present."

And there it was. "Oh, that. I don't really need anything."

"But Tom, it's your birthday." Merope said trying to convince him. "Surely there's something you've been wanting?"

"Whatever you make is more than enough." This was always the hardest part of the year for Tom. It wasn't that he disliked his mother's gifts. She always insisted that he get something as a present. Usually something she had transfigured, like a whistle or a wooden snake. Tom cherished these gifts, even if they were a little crude in their design. But while he loved and appreciated them, there was always a lingering resentment. Not towards his mother of course, but toward himself. Why should he get such luxuries when she had nothing? He would give her gifts on her birthday as well, but they were nothing fancy. Not like the jewels that she deserved. It wasn't fair and Tom hated it. He didn't feel like he deserved the present, even if it came from his mother. Not when he had yet to fulfill his goal of elevating them from their position.

"Isn't there anything you'd like?" She asked hopefully. "I-I know I'm not much at transfiguration, but I have been working as a seamstress in my spare time and I managed to save up a little money-"

"You got another job? Mother-"

"Well, like your treasure trove, I wanted it to be a surprise." She said with a smile. "It isn't much, but if there's something you want, I'm sure I can manage to get it for you."

Tom looked to the ground. He had no idea that his mother had gotten a second job. He thought he was doing enough to take care of her by saving up, but now he knew he was wrong. It took everything he had to keep from crying. He was still a child after all.

"You're getting shoes for Christmas, but I think I have just enough to get you a new book if you'd like." She said thoughtfully. "A brand new one that hasn't ever been used. Wouldn't you like that Tom? We can go to flourish and blots to pick one out?"

"Mother… I don't want a book." He actually did, but he didn't want his mother to spend any of her hard-earned money on him.

"But dearest, you must want something for your birthday." She almost sounded like she was pleading now.

Tom could not very well say no to her and he came up with a way so she could keep her money and still let her give him a gift. "There is. I'd like to go to the park."

"The park?" She tilted her head. "But Tom, you can go there anytime, surely for your birthday you'd want something special."

"It is what I want though. I want to go with you. We are always both so busy, but I think it would be nice to go out for a few hours with each other. Please mother? I don't really want anything else." Tom patted himself on the back for his genius plan. Merope was almost always working and when she wasn't, she was too tired to do anything but rest. Tom was very understanding of this and tried to work hard to alleviate the strain on her. As a result, the two hardly got to spend any quality time together. With this, he would ensure his mother got a break from work, along with some fresh air.

She smiled at him. "If that is what you want, you will have it. Now, would you help me with these clothes?"

Break

Christmas eve and day came, bringing a multitude of merry men and women who ate and drank their fill at the leaky cauldron. Some were there to see old friends. Others simply didn't have much in the way of family and were there to enjoy a little company and holiday cheer. Young Tom was in fine form and came away with almost a half galleon worth of tips. He and his mother exchanged gifts. She had gotten him a new pair of shoes, which he sorely needed, and he had made her a necklace with a snake pendant that he had carved from a piece of oak.

The week passed and it was now December 31, 1933, New Year's Eve and Tom's 7th Birthday. Old Tom treated the birthday boy to a special breakfast with heaps of bacon and eggs and then he set to work. After tending to the morning customers, Tom, along with his mother, were free till the evening, when their help would be needed for the busy night ahead. Snow was on the ground and flakes were still falling lightly from the sky as they walked hand in hand to St. James park. Diagon alley didn't have a park and so they decided to go out into muggle London, bundled up in their secondhand coats. Merope also cast on them a few warming charms to make sure they wouldn't freeze.

"How are your shoes, Tom? Are your feet warm enough?" Merope asked.

"I like them very much, mother. They fit perfectly."

"I'm so glad. You've been growing so fast, it's sometimes hard to keep up."

"Do you like my gift mother?"

She reached down her shirt to pull out the snake pendant she wore around her neck. "It's just lovely dearest. I don't think I'll ever take it off." She said fondly.

"I hope that one day you will. When I have enough money, I'll buy you the best necklace galleons can buy, and you can wear that instead." He said proudly and Merope stopped, pulling him by the hand to do the same.

She knelt down to look him in the eye with her hand on his cheeks. "I shall never love a necklace more than the one that my darling son has made for me. I would not sell this for all the gold in Gringotts."

"Mother…" He looked her in the eyes, and he knew that she meant it. That only served to harden his resolve. 'You'll see mother. Gold. Jewelry. Everything that we deserve will be ours.'

"Now, let's carry on, we're nearly there."

At the park, Tom and his mother walked around and took in the wonderful scenery. Though the trees were without their leaves, and the lake was frozen over, there was something magical about the snow-covered landscape. It was quiet, peaceful. They saw Buckingham palace not too far away and Tom wondered what it might be like to live in such a grand place.

After walking around for half an hour, Merope suddenly knelt down and started to pile up the snow into a small ball.

"Mother, what are you doing?" Tom asked in confusion.

"Building a snowman." She replied with excitement. "I've never made one before and I've always wanted to. Here, help me role this one to make it bigger."

Tom crouched down to assist his mother. They spent the next hour making the snowman, staying warm with the effort of rolling the balls, along with the occasional warming charm. When the creation was finished, the two began to have a snowball fight. It had been a long time since either of them had so much fun and it was made better by the fact that they were together. Finally, their energy spent and the hour growing late, they decided to make their way back to the leaky cauldron.

They walked down the streets, both with a smile on their face while holding hands. It would have been a perfect day for both of them, except for what happened next. A group of men crossed their path and one of them, a large and burly man, cried out in a loud voice. "Good god! Look at the face on that one! What happened to you love, get hit by a train then?"

Merope knew that she was no looker, but even so, she was stung by the words of the stranger. Trying her best to ignore the man, she quickened her pace and pulled Tom along with her.

"Oi, medusa, I'm talkin to you!"

"Johnson, just leave em be." One of his friends tried to shut him up. "We're sorry miss. Had a bit of an early start on the festivities he has."

With a nod acknowledging the apology, Merope kept her head down and tried not to cry while she pushed on.

"Don' ignore me." The drunken man grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around forcefully. "Bloody hell, even a train coudn'a caused this mess." Tears formed in the woman's eyes and she tried to leave only for him to keep her still with a hand on her shoulder. "But I reckon even the ugly ones need a good shag. For a few quid, I might just make your night if you catch on?"

Seeing his mother get man handled made Tom's blood boil over. Before the man's friends could pull him off the girl, Tom ran and pushed the man. Now, normally, when a seven-year-old rushes a full grown man, the outcome is plain to foresee. That outcome, however, did not happen in this case. Tom's shove sent the man flying back into his friends and they toppled over like bowling pins.

"Leave my mother alone." Tom said dangerously and for a moment the adults, even Merope, looked stunned. Johnson stood up, to drunk to realize that a kid shouldn't have been able to do that. "Your mummy eh? Well, looks like you got lucky once after all." He walked back and saw the pendant hanging around Merope's chest. "Per'aps I'll take your little trinket by way of compensation for your brats unruliness." He reached out and snatched the necklace off the woman. "Cool snake." He said while he examined it. "Too good for gutter trash anyway." Merope jumped up and tried to grab it back, but the man held her at bay. "Ah, ah. If you want this back, you'll have to earn it. You know what to do then don't ya?"

"SHUT UP!" Tom yelled and the man's mouth snapped shut so hard he felt a tooth break. "Get away from her NOW!" The man struggled to resist, but as if pulled by some invisible force, he was forced away from Merope, who was too stunned to do anything.

"Nobody treats my mother that way." Tom's voice was low and Johnsons friends couldn't believe that such a voice came from a child. "Nobody!"

Johnson suddenly started to convulse, and he tried to scream out in pain, but his mouth was still sealed shut. He fell and continued to writhe on the ground while Tom had him fixed with an intense stare of rage. Merope finally overcame her shock and grabbed her son by the shoulder. "Tom!"

The boy looked at his mother and away from his victim. He saw her pleading, almost scared face and his own expression became guilty.

Turning away from her and walking over to Johnson, Tom reached down and pulled his mother's necklace out of the man's grip. Returning to his mother's side and handing it back to her, he grabbed her hand and they continued to make their way home, leaving the drunken man on the ground, groaning in pain, while his three scared friends sat motionless on the ground.

Break

It was past midnight before Tom and his mother crawled into their bed. After the incident, they hadn't spoken a word the rest of the way home. Now the night was over, the service had been completed and they had time to talk, but Merope just didn't know what to say. Tom had performed accidental magic before, but never like that. He had never hurt anyone before. But now he had used magic on a muggle, and it scared her to think that the law might come after Tom like it did her brother. Surely they wouldn't imprison him, right? He was only a child, and such a good boy. She wouldn't let them take him away. She would die first. But the fear weighed on her.

"Mother?" Tom's voice drew her out of her inner thoughts.

"It's very late dearest. Try to fall asleep." She patted his cheek and kissed his forehead.

"I only wanted to say I'm sorry I scared you."

Merope was taken aback by this. "Tom, you didn't scare me."

"Yes, I did. I saw your face after I hurt that muggle." He said the last word with obvious malice.

She pulled him into tight hug. "It wasn't you that frightened me." She explained.

"Really?" Tom asked hopefully.

"Oh, my love, how could I ever be scared of you? But I was scared for you."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked curiously.

"You see…" She paused to think of what to say. "Even though not all muggles are like that man today, some of our kind believe that they are. They think all of them are rotten and cruel-"

"And ugly." Tom added, causing his mother to smile.

"Yes, that too. They think that they are below us, but there are some muggles who are just as brave and good hearted as any witch or wizard."

"Like father." Tom said with a smile, but he didn't see his mother cringe with guilt.

"Well," she pressed on "some wizards hate muggles so much that they try to hurt them and so, there have been laws put in place to punish the wizards and protect muggles."

"But I've heard Lord Greengrass say that the law allows for self-defense. That man was trying to hurt you. We have rights too mother." Tom replied firmly.

"You are right Tom." She stroked his hair. "I supposed it was silly of me to be so afraid. You're a minor after all and can hardly be arrested for losing control of your magic." It was Tom's turn to look guilty. "I just don't want to lose you."

Tom nodded. "You won't mother." He yawned. "I'll always be here for you."

With these comforting words bringing peace to Merope's mind, she drifted off to sleep, followed quickly by her son.

End chapter

I know I portray Tom Riddle as a little too capable and mature for his age, but given what he was like in the books, I think it's within the realm of possibility, especially if you subscribe to the theory that magical children mature faster than muggles. If not that's ok, Tom is a genius who surpasses Hermione in the intellect department and his hard life has taught him street smarts and social skills early on in addition to book smarts.

A little bit about the time Period. 1933 was the year that Nessie was first spotted and it was also the year Hitler became chancellor of Germany. Coincidence? probably, but then again, Nessie sounds an awful lot like Nazi. Anyway, 1933 was also the worst year in the great depression for the U.S.A and I don't think that the U.K. was much better off. Wizarding Britain was not really affected by the depression, at least in this story, because I don't think they were affected by the muggle stock market. Just my thoughts anyway.

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