First, it was simply his home. The orphanage wouldn't allow long walks in the lush squares, or anywhere else for that matter. It wasn't until later that he got to know the city... and himself. He lied about returning to the orphanage that year at Christmas. After all, he had just found that he was a magic user. Why not discover the city he knew yet didn't know?
He had wandered the streets, homeless, but happily so. The winter had been mild and kind to him that year.
That was when Tom Riddle came to utter, zenish peace with the world, and Yohannes Voldemort began to take over.
And then the years flew past. The more Riddle was meek, the more Voldemort overpowered him. But Tom was firmly in control as he walked back into his home city to say goodbye.
It was a strange sensation, feeling the noose around his neck. He would be completely gone in the morning, the good of him, and this was only a short encore. He stared out at the rippling, deep blue Savannah river as it swiftly coursed to the Atlantic sea. River Street bustled behind his back, tourists snapping pictures and shopping, the heavenly scent of pecan praline drifting out of the sweet shops.
He walked along, one destination in his mind. The statue of the Waving Girl...
Standing tall in metal, the effigy of the woman who had waved at ships coming into the harbor with a white flag by day and lantern by night was the only thing on his mind. It was the last place in his goodbye. He had already been to the colonial cemetery and wandered about the worn graves dazedly. He had said goodbye to every square and stared up into all the ancient live oak's branches bearded with spanish moss.
He reached the statue.
The Savannah glittered, sun dancing on its waves, for just the right moment. Goodbye, Tom. Goodbye.
When he looked up, inside of him, Tom was dead and Yohannes completely in control. Tom, the thin, lanky Slytherin boy with a Southern drawl that never seemed to fit anywhere, was dormant, perhaps forever. Yohannes smiled into the sun coldly, Yohannes was the one who walked stiffly away from Savannah... forever.
And the blue river mourned. Tom... Come back someday... Come back... You can fight... Just give it time...
No one knew but him.
Life continued in Savannah, Georgia, as it always had and always would.
AN:
Yes, I did take a class trip to Savannah. It's a wonderful city, Georgia's first, founded by James Oglethorpe to be a colony where those stuck in debtor's prisons might have freedom. If you ever have a chance to go there, DO. And visit River Street Sweets on River Street, they give out the best free samples! ^_^
It's interesting to think of Tom Riddle not being an Englishman. I've also toyed with the idea of him being a Spainiard, and I'll write that story someday (too much flamenco! Aiieee!). This was just fresh on my mind...
Don't ask me where I got the idea of the Savannah speaking to him, or why it's Yohannes Voldemort. Yohannes just kind of sounded good...
Be a lovely little reader and review, would you?