Title: Call Me Marvolo


Author: Liz Skywalker


Author Stats: See bio


Disclaimer: I don't own Tom. Don't I wish.


Summery: Tom Riddle is an orphan who goes to Hogwarts. Here's his story.




It was the 20th of July and Tom Riddle read over the passages of the
letter for the millionth time. He knew the entire letter by heart but he wanted
to make sure that it was real and it was true. He needed to reassure himself
that this was the day he would get his letter.


Tom Riddle owned only two things: this letter, and the book that came with
it. Even the clothes on his back belonged to the orphanage. It was because of
the letter that Tom knew who he was. Before she died, his mother had taken the
time to write out everything Tom would ever need to know about himself and his
heritage. It had taken her the first year of her son's life to write down
everything she thought he would need to know. But in case she had forgotten
something, Tom's mother had included a small encyclopedia. All Tom had to do was
write his question into the book and the answer would surface. Tom's mother had
also placed an enchantment on the letter that if it was even confiscated, it
would find its way back to him. She had also placed a Hiding Charm on it so that
Tom would be the only one able to read it or destroy it. Anyone else would just
see a piece of paper with Tom's name and vital statistics on it.


And so Tom knew that the Hogwarts letter would come by owl on the 20th of
July in his 11th year. So Tom was not surprised to see the owl tapping on the
window of the boy's dormitory in the early morning. He opened the window
carefully and took the letter. He made sure that the window didn't scratch when
it closed and then took the letter over to his bed. It was Sunday morning and
Mr. Pikeman would not come in until after he came back from church around noon.
Of course, until then there would be no food, but the orphanage boys didn't care
for that. They enjoyed the chance to sleep late. Ordinarily Tom would have
gladly joined them but he had been counting down the days for too long until
July 20th. He opened the letter eagerly.


"Dear Mr. Riddle," it read. Tom scanned it eagerly. He would have to send
back an answer by Muggle means. Tom scowled. The post office was a good two
miles from the orphanage. At his first chance he was going to have to buy an
owl. The letter was signed 'Albus Dumbledore'. Tom recalled the name from the
letter. Apparently, he had been a teacher at Hogwarts when his mother was in her
7th year. Tom looked over the supplies list. It was nothing that his mother's
letter hadn't told him. Tom thanked whatever god there was for the umpteenth
time that his mother had written it. He would have been lost without it when his
powers had started to emerge.


They had begun to emerge when he was six or so. He had read the letter by
then so he knew what to expect. Tom originally hadn't been sure that what the
letter said was true when he was six but since he had been talking to snakes
since before he could remember, he knew that at least part of it was true.


Tom liked to test his memory whenever he was alone. He would recite things
from poets or authors he liked. But whenever he was sure that there was no one
who could hear him, Tom always recited his mother's letter. "Dearest Tom," he
began in a whisper. "I am very sorry, more than you will ever know, that I
cannot live to tell you this in person. But since I cannot, I have written down
everything you should know about yourself and where you came from. I will start
with me. I am Ursula Gwinn. Your father's name is Thomas Riddle. I have no idea
if he is still alive when you are reading this letter. I hope he is. He's a
sweet man and was wholly unprepared to find out that he was married to a witch.
Later in this letter, I'll give you instructions on how to contact him in the
event of an emergency.


"I will begin at the beginning. You are a wizard, Tom. Yes, magic does
exist. You're considered a half-blood. Your mother, myself, was a witch from a
respected pureblood family and your father was a Muggle, a non-magic person.
Magic has been around for some time. We don't know who the first witch or wizard
was but it doesn't really matter. Around a thousand years ago or more, two
witches and two wizards got together to establish Hogwarts School of Witchcraft
and Wizardry. You are descended straight from Salazar Slytherin himself, the
most powerful of the founders." Tom stopped to catch his breath and then sucked
it in as Edmond Powders mumbled in his sleep and rolled over. Thankfully,
Powders stayed asleep. "You share his special power, the ability to speak to
snakes. The language is called 'Parseltongue' and one who speaks Parseltongue is
referred to as a 'Parselmouth'. Hide your ability, Tom. Wizards consider
Parselmouths evil. Don't think that you are evil, Tom. Being a Parselmouth is a
rare gift and snakes make very good friends, or so I've been told." Tom paused.
"They do, Mum. They really do." Tom's cobra woke itself up and wound itself
around his arm. Tom also had a python, but he was sickly and would die soon. Tom
kept them in a box under his bed and only took them out when no one else could
see. He had taken his mother's advice to heart. "As I'm writing this, you're
talking to your stuffed snake that I bought for you a few days ago. I wish I
could understand what you're saying to it. You don't seem to realize yet that
you're speaking a foreign language. When you get older, you'll be able to speak
Parseltongue at any time without having to look at the snake first. That ability
may come in handy someday."


"Who're you talking to, Riddle?" Edmond Powders raised himself onto one
arm and wiped his matted dirty-blonde hair from his eyes.


"Wouldn't you like to know. Go back to sleep, Powders." Tom stuffed the
letter down his shirt to hide it.


"I don't think so." Too late, Powders had spotted it. "Oh, you got a
letter! But there's no post on Sunday. Have you been hording, Riddle? Give it
here."


"No." Tom smiled and pulled his sleeve down over his cobra. Thankfully,
that arm was away from Powders. Pets weren't allowed in the orphanage and
Powders was known as a snitch.


"I'll tell Eric," Powders threatened.


"Tell Ernie for all I care." Tom retorted. He gave a mock yawn. "I'm going
back to sleep." He crawled under his flimsy cotton blanket and rearranged the
letters so that they wouldn't fall out of his shirt. Tom had taught himself to
sew and had sewn pockets in his shirt, it functioned both as a daily and bed
shirt, so that he could carry around his letter and encyclopedia with him
wherever he went. Nothing was safe if you left it unattended. Thankfully, Seth
and Saint could look out for themselves. "You all right, Seth?"


"Yes." The cobra hissed at him and unwound itself slightly from Tom's arm.
"Shall I go back to the box?"


"There's no reason for you to. You can stay here if you like."
Seth's head nuzzled the crook of Tom's left arm. "I like." He said
sleepily. Tom laughed quietly.


"You can stay. But tell me if I start hurting you. I don't want to roll
over on top of you by accident." When Tom was younger, he had killed a garden
snake that way by smoldering it to death. He had been six or seven at the time
and had cried for days because of it. Two months after that, he had found, or
rather, Saint had found his way to Tom. "How's Saint doing?"


"Not well. He says to take him to Diagon Alley with you when you go. He
has some family there and wants to see them again."


"I can do that. Tell him I will do that." Tom promised. And then he slept.




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