Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. I have no beta-reader so if you noticed any errors, please let me know so I can fix them as soon as possible. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.
There's been a time jump as mentioned before. I played around with the time lines in regards to hopefully make this series flow better. So don't hate me for that please.
I want to say a great and big thank you to those readers who leave reviews and favorite and follow this series. Please keep reviewing if you can, it lets me know that people are reading and are liking the story well enough for me to update. I also like to know your thoughts on the chapters. Thank you for your time and thank you for favoriting or following Darwin's Plight. A big thank you once again for everyone who drops reviews for me to read!
October 19, 1948
To Ophelia,
Working for Borgin and Burkes is definitely less than ideal but you'd be surprised how much pure-bloods come through here. As you know, I've been trying make valuable connections with the clientele as of recently. I've made myself closely acquainted with a woman by the name of Hepzibah Smith. She is a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff.
I don't plan on working in this damned shop for much longer. I've applied to work at Hogwarts-there is an opening position as a professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts. If there is an available position now, I am sure they'd need someone to fill in immediately.
Anyways, next time you write, stop sending it through the muggle post system. Borrow someone's owl or delivery pigeon or or packaging sea turtle or whatever people use wherever you are.
Regards,
-Tom Riddle.
October 27, 1948
To Ophelia,
I didn't get the position at Hogwarts I told you about in that last letter. I was expecting Dippet to conduct the interview and go about the hiring process; it was instead Dumbledore I had to interact with. I spoke to Malfoy about that not too long ago, he has some cousins who'll be attending Hogwarts shortly after this year. Through Malfoy, I've found out that Dumbledore's going to be Hogwarts' next headmaster.
I don't know about you but I for one am extremely glad that we didn't have to suffer the experience of Dumbledore as our Headmaster.
Again-use a damn owl! Your letters get back to me too slowly.
Regards,
-Tom Riddle
November 1, 1948
Ophelia,
I've decided to leave the employment of Borgin and Burkes. I've decided it's time for a change in scenery. I'm moving to Albania for a while, I won't say if it'll be a long or short stay.
However, I do have a proposition to run by you in regards to moving to Albania. I'll only be in England for one week more after I send this to you. Meet with me at The Leaky Cauldron at three in the afternoon on November sixth if possible, so we can speak.
I have yet to receive your latest letter and I intend for this to be the last letter I write to you. Don't write back, I'll see you soon enough.
-Tom
Margo's eyes lingered on the last letter; her grip on it tightened and her heart beated in a pace that could have matched a tango rhythm. A strong sense of fulfilment carried itself through Margo's soul. The blonde witch almost wanted to cry at the overwhelming amount of joy in her body. Margo wasn't sure if she'd normally cry about a letter or if the pregnancy hormones were especially strong today.
"Pipa!" Margo couldn't contain the excitement in her voice. "When you told me you were corresponding with Tom, I thought you said it was casual." She waved the letter from November first in the air. "If he wants to propose to you-that isn't casual!"
"He said he has a proposition, Margo." Ophelia placed a cigarette in between her lips and lit it up by using her wand. Smoking had slowly become a habit of hers since (give or take) last year. Ophelia picked her first cigarette up in a little jazz club in her time at Chicago when she went to visit a coven of witches. That was quite the culture shock.
"Proposition sounds more like a business transaction. As for proposal, well," Ophelia took a nice and long drag from her cigarette before blowing out a ring of smoke. "You know."
Being twenty-two years old meant different things for the two witches. Regardless of how the two witches still spoke and got along with each other, they were in distinctly dissimilar points in their life.
To start , Margo Elwood had been married for almost three years. She had made a lovely home from the estate that Peter's family gave to them as a wedding present. Before getting pregnant, Margo was something of a social promoter or planner within the pure-blooded community-which more of less meant she threw parties for agencies and organizations that wanted to branch out, make connections, raise some money and get a few more members. The pay was extremely nice as well since she negotiated her wages.
Margo gained a sense of pride being able to add more wealth to what she and Peter already had.
As for Ophelia Darwin, she'd taken a knack for roaming in and out and around places. One month studying magic of Fiji, then the next two weeks learning in Japan, and another whole month back visiting Kane on his island. She probably favored American states over anything else as she was always popping up in one state or another. She'd ventured into Chicago, Illinois; stroll into New Orleans, Louisiana; then whenever Ophelia felt like it-she'd have a coffee break with Ruth on the Navajo Reservation in Colorado.
On the topic of her income, she took to working in clubs and bars alike (muggle or otherwise). It didn't give her as much money as Margo, but it gave her enough to get by and Ophelia was happy with that.
Margo huffed and threw the letters down on the sofa cushion and placed her hands on her very pregnant stomach, she only seven months along. "Please get married, Pipa. Then have kids so my kids can grow up with yours." The blonde witch then pushed an agenda at her long time friend. "Possibly, even have our children marry one another if we plan their age gap out in advanced."
"Who is getting married?" A feminine voice rang out as she entered the parlor. Her thick black hair was styled and sectioned out into careful, tiny, and beautiful braids; her skin was a shade of warm ebony; and in her arms was a sleeping baby girl who couldn't have been much older than possibly six months. This witch's name was Zyra Zolotov, wife to none other than William Zolotov.
Margo flashed a smile at Zyra. "Pipa is!"
Zyra only looked to Ophelia with one eyebrow arched while rubbing her child's back. "Is this true? You're getting married?"
The brunette witch shook her head no as she tried to enjoy her cigarette. "Zee, you know how Margo is."
Margo replied with, "No, Zee. You know how Pipa can be."
"And you two know how I can be over trivial and vague conversations." Zyra rolled her eyes at the two women; she grew up in South Africa and never did she take part in such prolonged chitter chatter until she met Margo. It got worse whenever Margo pressed on Ophelia in conversation to admit or confess to things Ophelia wasn't even sure she had anything to admit to or confess. "Speak now or I'll shorten my visit with the both of you."
Ophelia put her cigarette out on an ashtray and blew the smoke away from the sleeping baby as best as she could. "I have to meet with an old classmate today at three, that's all."
Margo narrowed her eyes at the half-blooded witch. "Excuse her Zyra, she seemed to have left out the part that this classmate is drop dead gorgeous, smart, charming and a gentleman." The blonde witch then added, "Him and her used to always study together."
"Margaret." Ophelia's voice was firm but not aggressive. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Please." She recalled the last time Margo tried to push her and Tom together-well-she didn't remember it exactly but it left an ugly feeling Ophelia when she did try to remember.
Zyra looked down at her daughter who continued to sleep the afternoon away. "Your aunties really are something else, nay?"
Ophelia's eyes lingered innocently on Zyra and her baby before her sight drifted over to Margo who was still rubbing her pregnant stomach.
The brunette smiled, unsure but envious at the same time.
"Is everything all set for Albania?" Tom's eyes never left the article from the Daily Prophet when he spoke to Dolohov. The heir of Slytherin sat comfortably in Dolohov's office chair with his legs crossed on the top of the very elegant oak desk. The topic of Hepzibah Smith's death was all over the newspapers and Tom couldn't help but relish at how easy and effortless it had been to get away with her death.
"Almost, my Lord." Dolohov tensed up as he tried to give the heir of Slytherin the reasons why everything wasn't all perfect for him. "I've been working particularly hard at the Ministry as of late in order to get a promotion-you see-my wife is due to have our child here soon and-."
Tom rolled his eyes and spat some words out at Dolohov. "I couldn't care any less about your personal life, Dolohov." He flipped the newspaper over and skimmed along for something to catch his attention. "Promote and climb up the work ladder at the Ministry all you want-it'll benefit me one day. Remember though, I gave you one job and if that job isn't completed by the time I reach Albania-well-it'd be a shame if you suddenly disappeared and were unable to support your wife and child."
Dolohov paled immediately; a full scale plan formulated in his mind. He was going to call off work related issues for the day, he'd say his wife was needing him home, and finish the arrangements for Lord Voldemort's time in Albania. "I promise, my Lord, I'll get everything done by tonight if I must."
"Good." The handsome teen turned into a handsome man who was colder and crueler than ever. His brown eyes looked over to the grandfather clock in Dolohov's little home office. I should better get a move on.
Tom tossed the issue of the Daily Prophet lazily on the floor before he stood up as he straightened his shirt and suit jacket out, he tossed a glare at Dolohov. "You are to report to me when you've finished settling everything. Understood?"
Dolohov nodded his head to signal that he did in fact, understand what was being asked of him. A burst of a sound close to thunder rang out through Dolohov's office; he let out a sigh of relief as he walked out one room to enter another when he realized the heir of Slytherin apparated away from him and his family.
He peeked into his bedroom and relaxed at the sight of his pregnant wife sleeping soundly. Dolohov was going to get everything and more sorted before the night ended.
There's a lot of places Ophelia's never been to: Paris, Spain, Berlin, The Leaky Cauldron.
So when arriving to The Leaky Cauldron, it wasn't what she was expecting to be honest. She expected a cafe, with adequate lighting, maybe some flowers in vases in the center of the tables, possibly a live band. Something modern and up to date like every other little restaurant, club, or bar she'd been too. Ophelia decided to seat herself at a round table with only two chairs, she decided that while The Leaky Cauldron wasn't ugly or anything, it was underwhelming.
For a moment, the half-blooded witch contemplated if she should have her third cigarette for the day but she never got the chance to even reach for the addictive stick tucked away in her purse.
"Sorry if I am a few minutes late. You haven't been waiting long, have you?" The chair across from Ophelia slid against the floor of The Leaky Cauldron and it creaked slightly as weight was applied to it. Tom Riddle sat down and held two fingers up in the air for the barmaid to fix them some tea.
The brunette shook her head. "No, I only got here." She decided to forget about having a smoke with Tom present. Her eyes drank Tom's image in, not surprisingly his hair was well groomed and well coiffed. His clothes looked new, clean, and tailored specifically for him in the form of a navy blue suit with jade colored tie. Which made Ophelia happy for him-she remembered easily in their Hogwarts year how plain and often worn out his clothes look on him.
Something about Tom seemed more...aggressive in a sense.
Maybe 'grown up' is what I need to be thinking, Ophelia told herself as she continued to study the man who sat across from her. Though, she couldn't completely deny there something in the man's eyes that made Ophelia feel like maybe she shouldn't have come out to meet Tom. You're a grown up too now, imagine how different you seem to him.
Tom was just as obvious as Ophelia when it came to him looking at her. (He really never was subtle around her.) His brown eyes carefully scanned through Ophelia, as if he wanted to commit the present image of her to his memory. The half-blood's hair was the first thing he noticed and he was thankful the length of chocolate brown hair reached to at least Ophelia's breast-her hair was curled to perfection and framed her face in a delicate manner. Her body was covered in an elbow sleeved, black and mauve railene dress-but her outfit seemed unfinished, as if she was missing a matching hat or a headscarf.
The barmaid Tom motioned to earlier dropped two cups of tea and a kettle at their table before either one of them decided to speak.
Ophelia spoke first. "I'll be honest, when I wrote to you earlier this year I didn't really think you'd reply." Much less continue to write to me.
Back some months ago, William had written to Ophelia saying that he ran into Tom at an engagement party for the Nott family. Tom asked the drunk wizard some questions in regards to her. William being who he was (under the influence of alcohol at that moment) couldn't remember Ophelia's state of well being and where in the world she was from their last letter to each other-he decided to write Ophelia about it and insist that she write to Tom herself.
Tom shrugged and poured a cup of tea from himself. "I've been told that's what people do when they want to keep in touch with someone." Or to keep tabs on a resource.
"Is that why you wanted to meet up, Tom?" Ophelia allowed herself to put both her elbows on the table as she cradled her face in her hands. "Because you want to stay in touch?"
"Please don't think me that sentimental over you," Tom rolled his eyes and took a sip of his tea before continuing with the conversation. "I have a proposition for you, either you take or you don't." The heir of Slytherin phrased it cooly and uncomplicatedly.
For the most part he'd gotten over the fact that Ophelia didn't see who or how he really was that night when she confessed to knowing nothing the night of Margo and Peter's wedding. Truth be told, it wasn't complicated for him but it would be if she gave him the wrong answer (otherwise known as the answer he didn't want.)
Even if Ophelia gives me the wrong answer, I'll give her the correct answer anyhow. Tom had this all planned out.
"Let's hear it then," Ophelia poured a cup of tea for herself. She nearly flinched at how foreign tea tasted to her after having coffee as her go beverage since traveling so often. A stifled cough escaped her lips as she tried to speak. "As long as it is within my ability I suppose I can help you before you go, Tom." She placed her elbows back on the table and ignored her cup of tea.
The half-blooded witch couldn't remember when was the last time she'd help Tom but she did remember at that time they were sixth years and she was rather frightened while having a sense of obedience towards him. She ended up nearly catering to his every whim out of that fear and the loyalty that came out of it.
I'm sure it's probably something minor. Ophelia reasoned with herself. Like loaning him four galleons in exchange for a book or something...Even though, I am sure he knows I'm not much of an avid reader.
There was a feeling of a heavy heat in the center of Tom's chest as tried not to think too critically about what he was going to say. You need her because of her experience from traveling abroad. Tom cleared his throat and took another drink of his tea. As much as you hate to admit it-she'd be able to help you in Albania when gathering information from the locals better than you could. If Dumbledore comes hunting for you, she'd still be reliable enough as an alibi because all she has done the past few years is skip around and travel!
"Ophelia, I'd like for you to accompany me to Albania."
Ophelia took her elbows off the table and leaned away, a look of distress came to her face as well as slight blush that reddened her cheeks. A man, a grown-ass-man, asked her to travel with him to Albania. In a mixture of shock, honesty, and panic all Ophelia said the first thing that came to mind.
"I-I-I don't even know where Albania is." Ophelia stated. Even if I did, would I even want to go there? Another sentence flew out of her mouth without being thought over first. "I have plans to go to Mexico and learn about their brujer-bru-bru-." Ophelia sighed and tried to pronounce the word again. "Brujeria."
"Then go to Mexico after Albania." Tom stated evenly as he looked Ophelia directly in her eyes. He wasn't going to give up easily so he added a little lie in for Ophelia."I'd only need your company for a month."
"My company?" Ophelia tried to keep the volume of her voice low as her heart suddenly skipped multiple beats. She wasn't going to let her emotions get ahead of her-she was more than certain that Tom wasn't asking her hand in marriage.
What baffled Ophelia, was how not once did Tom ever try to develop their dynamic beyond the title of 'classmates-who-used to-sometimes-fuck'. Now, bloody now, he was trying to skip the process of becoming respectable friends; to adults in a functioning relationship; straight to vacation/travel buddies.
That isn't how things work out in normal circumstances!
"You're in my company now, trust me, you'll be bored of me after the first few days. You know, like in school!" Ophelia shot up from her chair, grabbed her purse and told a lie to get out of the situation. "I have to go. I have dinner with my parents."
"I'll go with you and we can continue our discussion at your parent's place." Tom followed that statement with a sentence that held false consideration in regards to the rest of the Darwin family. "We could even get your mother and father's approval too if need be."
"No thanks, Tom. However, I am sure you could someone else to help you!" Her shoes clicked with a quick and muted sound against the floorboards as she zipped away from the former Slytherin prefect. "Best of luck, ta-ta."
If Tom hadn't seen Ophelia use this technique to get away from him the same way a mouse would scurry from a snake, he might have let her go and found another female to help him. He wasn't going to though. He calmly placed a handful of sickles on the table before standing up and going after Ophelia-she wouldn't get very far.
He specifically picked this particular pub on Charing Cross Road for a reason. Ophelia Darwin had never been in the area before and that alone would stall her from getting away. Also due to muggles being present in the general vicinity, she couldn't apparate away to wherever she wanted to without the chance of being fined for practicing magic in a space so accessible to muggles...Tom Riddle had it all planned out.
The heir of Slytherin knew that control was key; to act normal, and to make sure witnesses saw him act reasonable should a certain wizard find Tom suspicious for whatever reason. He walked out, a concentrated finesse in his step. The heir of Slytherin caught a glimpse of Ophelia trying to look for street signs to guide her back to West Berkshire. In ten quick steps Tom was at Ophelia's side; he grabbed her hand and held on tightly.
"Tom, we are not doing this." Ophelia hissed as she tried to yank her hand out his hold; she felt Tom pull the hand he had captive in his hold closer to his thigh in a secure manner. "For Christ's sake, Riddle! We are adults now!"
"Darwin," Tom effortlessly yanked Ophelia's closer to him as he pulled her along for a walk down an alley with no witnesses, a dead end, and where Ophelia was still unfamiliar with. "I know we are adults, I tried to approach the situation like an adult with you-."
Ophelia was still fighting to get out Tom's handle but she still found it appropriate to interrupt him as he spoke. "An adult wouldn't ask someone they dislike to travel with them to Albania-."
"It's not a matter of dislike you or liking you!" Tom snapped as he continued to force Ophelia to take steps further into the alley way. With one hand on the brunette witch, he used his free hand to reach into his suit jacket's pocket and discreetly pull out his wand. "It's about wanting to use you! Is it so terrible that I actually find you useful?" Without wasting any more of his breath to explain anything else to Ophelia, he pushed her into a hidden and old corner of the alleyway. His wand placed at the base of her throat.
Ophelia's pale green eyes widened at first with confusion before switch over to a look of shock. Her body went hot as her heart raced and a combination of adrenaline, terror, and distress. She replayed Tom's words about using her in mind and that also twisted her gut in away that made Ophelia understand why all this time he allowed himself to even keep her around...He used me as a tool in whatever way he saw fit…
If the former Hufflepuff was in her right mind she would have cried, she would have felt her heart shatter like an old antique vase hitting the wall, she would have gotten angry at the handsome man who was ugly on the inside. She would have told Tom Marvolo Riddle she'd never ever, for as long as she lived wanted to see him again! Her emotions were strong enough and if she were to say those words out loud-she probably could have made a curse (like Kane had mentioned once). She didn't care anymore!
If she were in her right mind, she would have done and said all those things mentioned.
However, Ophelia Mae Darwin wasn't in her right mind and wouldn't get the chance to be since the spell Tom casted on her was too quick for her to dodge.
"Imperio."
Peteris Elwood wasn't sure he was understanding the situation completely. "What do you mean, Pipa's gone on a holiday with Tom Riddle?" He placed his knife and fork down on the either sides of the plate, temporary ignoring the alluring aroma of chicken and shrimp paella. "I thought Pipa was single? Who told you she's vacationing with him?"
Margo herself even looked confused with the information she shared with her husband. "Pipa's mum. I've received a letter from Wendy Darwin a little bit ago. She asked if we knew if they'd planned this out?"
The Elwood heir shrugged his shoulder. "I can swear on my life I had absolutely no knowledge of anything of that sort." Peter's mind for a brief moment flashed to a blurry memory from sixth year of Tom gently tucking a few strands of hair behind Ophelia's ear so it stayed out of her face. He was sure that moment from the past had nothing to do with the present.
"Should I send an owl to William and see if he knew?" Margo took a drink of water to help calm her nerves. "I mean, if Pipa is with Tom and they are on holiday then that's great but you don't think they're running away and getting married or anything?"
Peter shook his head. "I can't really speak for Riddle, but Pipa has always been honest us. I am sure she's honest with her family as well. So if Pipa says her and Riddle are only going on a holiday together-I am sure they're only going on a holiday. No marriage."
The pregnant witch suddenly experienced a flare of anger. "Peter! You didn't answer my first question though! Should I send an owl to WIlliam and see if he knows anything about this!"
"Love," Peter sighed. "William didn't know anything when you sent a letter the first time. He even asked Zyra and she had no clue either. They didn't know then and they still aren't going to know anything now."
Margo brought her hands up to her face and rubbed her eyes in the process; pregnancy had made her forgetful. "Sorry. I didn't remember."
Peter stood up from his chair and walked over to Margo and rubbed her back in little counter clockwise motions. "They'll be fine, Margo. Don't you worry about it."
"You're probably right," Margo sighed. She grabbed one of Peter's hands and kissed the back of his knuckles. "You're most likely right."
Tom Riddle watched as Ophelia Darwin hummed happily to herself as she explored the cottage Dolohov had put together. He sat on plush and gray loveseat, a glass of gin his hand, satisfied that everything in the cottage was exactly as promised.
The cottage was clean, the large fireplace in the living room had been enchanted, and the kitchen was stocked with a good amount of food for at least the first month. The floorboards were cleaned and waxed well to a point Tom could damn near see his reflection on the surface. Dolohov had ensured that he'd set up an office for the heir of Slytherin as well as get new furniture for Tom's bedroom. Dolohov also made sure that the half-blooded witch was just as comfortable in her bedroom as well (more or less out of fear Lord Voldemort would punish him otherwise.)
"What do you think?" Tom asked when he saw Ophelia wonder back to the living room. "Dolohov gave us his family cottage." An odd look of slight distaste was on Tom's features. "Apparently they'd use to be poor as opposed to the well off family they are now."
"It's perfect." Ophelia sat in front of the fireplace; her elbows propped up against her knees and her hands combing through her brown hair. The heat from the flames caressed her back with a sense of safety. There was a carefree expression on her face as she sighed. "Absolutely perfect."
The handsome man took a drink of his gin; the Imperious Curse worked impeccably on Ophelia.
"Come and sit by me," Tom called out to Ophelia. "Get close if you can."
Without a second's delay, the young lady moved away from the fireplace and sat directly next to Tom. She leaned in and placed her head on his shoulder.
Tom wrapped one arm around her shoulders even though she was already close to him as it was. He downed the rest of the gin. Ophelia was quiet and content, her eyes fixed on the flames of the fireplace.
"Listen to me and pay close attention, Ophelia." Tom started with his voice sounding sweet yet gruff at the same time. There was still a hint of that dangerous authoritative tone laced in his voice but it was sweet as music to the witch's ears.
"Anything you want, Tom." Ophelia said. "I'll listen until morning if that's what you want."
That's when Tom Marvolo Riddle told the half-blooded witch everything terrible he'd ever done in his life. He started with his cruel playing methods as a child in Wool's Orphanage before transitioning over to the more heinous deeds as he grew older.
From framing an innocent Gryffindor for the murder of a Ravenclaw student, to murdering others to make horcruxes for his benefit-Tom allowed himself to share and open up to Ophelia in a way he'd never done before.
It actually felt nice for him to tell her all those things. Refreshing, Tom thought to himself. It feels refreshing.
"I am a descendant of Salazar Slytherin." Tom combed his hand through brown hair, twirling the ends every now and then like he used to see Ophelia do. "Did I ever tell you that?"
"Only now, Tom." Ophelia's voice was warm and soft. There was look in her eyes that in a worrying way, made the heir of Slytherin's heart melt. The sad thing was, that look in her eyes was honest and not a product of the curse she was under.
This will be over soon. Tom told himself. You won't need her around for much longer.
Soon, possibly in maybe the next couple of hours Tom would use Obliviate on the brunette witch to make sure she forgot about the Imperious Curse. After that, Tom figured he would implant a false memory of Ophelia willingly taking up the offer to come to Albania with him the first time he ran it by her.
Tom planned it all out.