Warning: Rape and murder ahead.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter ideas, characters, and places do not belong to me. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.
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Immortalis Dominus Dominatus
Part I: Alpha
by Auror5
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Chapter II: Wings Unfurled
... 1938 ...
Drakonis Slytherin arrived at St. Cuthbert's to take the grandson he denied to Diagon Alley to purchase school supplies for his second year at Hogwarts. Slytherin made no comment about the bruises on Tom's face. He expressed no concern over the fact that Tom was limping and appeared quite ill. Tom had been beaten for displaying disrespect to authority. He caught a nasty respiratory infection while lying naked on the cold floor in Solitary.
He made no effort to slow his walk on Tom's behalf. Tired and weak, Tom struggled to keep pace with Slytherin's long strides. By the time they reached Diagon Alley, he was sweating profusely with exertion. His lungs hurt and his throat was raw from coughing.
"Hurry up, boy!" Slytherin snapped as they entered Serpensortia.
I hate him, he thought. One day....
"Afternoon, Drakonis. Back so soon?"
"The bloody runespoors keep killing themselves," growled Slytherin.
Tom collapsed on a stool near the door to catch his breath.
"Is the lad all right?" The shop owner inquired with concern. "Doesn't look too well, that one."
"He'll be fine." Drakonis waved his hand dismissively. "I need two hatched runespoors and five eggs."
"I'll go get them. They're in the back." He went behind a curtained doorway.
"When we leave here, boy, we'll go to Flourish and Blotts to pick up your textbooks, first."
The idea of another long walk in his condition was not appealing. A sinking sensation settled into his stomach.
"Please, sir, may I remain here for a little bit? I really do feel ill."
"Very well then," replied Slytherin with emotional detachment. "I'll return here after Flourish and Blotts to take you over to Madam Malkin's for a new robe. I swear, boy, at the rate you're growing you will need a new robe each year. I expect you to pay me back in full for my generosity."
The proprietor returned carrying a parcel. "Here we are."
"Hold those for me until I get back. The boy will remain here while I purchase his books."
"All right." The shopkeeper peered at Tom. "He does appear feverish."
Tom wondered bitterly whether Slytherin would ever refer to him by his name.
After Slytherin left the shop, the proprietor extended his hand and said, "I'm Kieran O'Sullivan."
Tom shook O'Sullivan's hand and said, "Hullo," while experiencing some difficulty breathing.
"What's your name, lad?"
"Tom. Tom Riddle."
"Come. Follow me, Tom. I think I can help you."
Tom rose from the stool and followed O'Sullivan behind the counter and through the curtained doorway. They entered a spacious and neatly organised room.
"Here, have a seat."
Tom sat on a pouf while O'Sullivan went into an adjoining room. He wondered just how large the shop was. It appeared small from the outside.
O'Sullivan returned with a steaming goblet. "Drink this."
With a brief hesitation, Tom took the goblet.
"Go on, lad. Drink it. It'll fix you right up. I'm surprised Drakonis didn't think of it."
I'm not, Tom thought.
Tom brought the cup to his lips, and drank quickly and deeply.
"Ah, very good," said O'Sullivan taking the goblet from him.
Tom felt warmth coursing through his body, immediately followed by an overwhelming drowsiness.
"What, what have you done to me?" he said thickly while beginning to topple off the pouf.
"Never mind, lad."
He felt himself being lifted. Then it was dark for a while.
Tom awoke and found himself on a comfortable bed in a small room. He slowly took in his surroundings. The first thing he realised was that he felt immensely better. He sat up, and spotted a note on the door.
Tom,
Went to Borgin and Burkes across the way. Will be back in a few minutes.
O'Sullivan
Tom pushed back the blankets and swung his feet off the bed. O'Sullivan had removed his ill-fitting shoes.
About thirty seconds later, he was in the customer area of the shop.
"Hello, Mr. Riddle."
"Alphonso? Alphonso!" Tom ran over to the container holding a King Cobra.
"You're still here!"
"Yesss, I am. I would have ssspoken to you earlier, but you did not ssseem well. You look muchhh better now."
"O'Sullivan gave me a potion that cured me."
"O'Sssulivan is a good man. How did you come by the bruisssesss, Mr. Riddle?"
"Tom."
"Very well. Tom."
"At the Muggle orphanage, where I live when I'm not in school. I was beat for calling Krupp an f---ing, filthy Muggle."
"It would ssseem that they did a very thorough job."
Tom shrugged. "I cannot wait to return to Hogwarts."
"When do you return?"
"In less than a fortnight. I made some close friends while I was there: Uthman, Alvar, and Miles. They're my favourites."
"I am glad to hear it, Tom."
"I was sorted into Slytherin. Our house crest is a serpent."
"That'sss exssscellent."
"Aye." Then he paused. "I wish I had enough money to buy you, Alphonso. I don't have anyone else to talk to when I'm not at Hogwarts. The Muggle boys in the orphanage aren't allowed to speak to me."
"Why not?"
"Because the animal that runs the orphanage forbade them to. I'm supposedly Satan's spawn." He added, darkly, "I would like to kill them. All Muggles should be destroyed, I think."
"Why do you sssay that?"
"Muggles aren't really human. They're beneath us, lower than beasts."
"Yesss. You could kill them if you like, Tom. Jussst ussse your magic."
"I wish I could. That bloody Slytherin won't let me take any of my school things with me to the orphanage, not even my wand."
"That'sss too bad. I wissshhh I could help you. Perhapsss.…"
"Sweet Morgana! You're a Parselmouth!"
Tom and Alphonso jumped at the sound of O'Sullivan's voice. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they did not hear him when he re-entered the shop.
"You're a Parselmouth," O'Sullivan repeated in awe. He stared at Tom as though he were viewing him in an entirely different light.
The door opened and Slytherin stepped in.
"Drakonis, did you know that this lad was a Parselmouth?"
"What?"
"A Parselmouth. I walked in and saw him conversing with this cobra."
"Are you bluffing me, Kieran? I don't have time for petty games."
"No. I'll prove it. Go on, Tom. Talk to it."
Tom hesitated.
"Go on, lad," O'Sullivan said, gently.
Tom turned to Alphonso. "O'Sullivan wants me to talk to you, to convince Slytherin that I can speak to snakes."
"What doesss he want usss to ssspeak of?"
Tom shrugged.
"Did you see that? I told you, Drakonis. The lad's a Parselmouth."
Slytherin stood for a moment staring at Tom with a calculating expression on his face. "Congratulations, boy. You have a rare talent."
Tom thought, I already know that.
For a brief period, the three wizards stood in awkward silence.
"Come, boy. Need to get the rest of your school supplies."
O'Sullivan handed the earlier purchased package to Slytherin before they left the shop.
Tom turned to Alphonso. "Goodbye. I hope to see you next year."
"Farewell, Tom. I hope to sssee you again. Good luck at Hogwartsss."
"Thanks."
That was the last time he ever saw Alphonso.
Tom hurriedly caught up with Slytherin.
Slytherin turned to glance down at Tom. "I see your health is better, boy."
******
On the platform, in front of the Hogwarts Express, Slytherin reached into his cloak and pulled out a dragon-hide covered booklet.
"Here, take this. I have no use for it."
Tom took the small book.
"It's your mother's memoirs."
Then he surprised Tom by carrying his trunk onto the train. As Slytherin was leaving the compartment, Uthman Malfoy entered.
"Hullo, Mr. Slytherin."
"Malfoy," he nodded, and left.
Tom immediately began to rummage in his trunk to locate his books for Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, and History of Magic. He ignored his strong desire to read his mother's diary.
"What are you doing?" said Alvar McKinley to Tom as he entered the compartment.
"Hullo. I have to finish my summer assignment before we arrive at Hogwarts."
"What?" said Uthman incredulous. "Why didn't you do it during the summer holidays?"
"Forgot about it," he lied.
"You better start then," suggested Alvar.
"Hullo, Uthman, Tom, and Alvar," greeted Miles Dougal.
"Hello," the boys responded.
About an hour into the trip, Miles said, "Er, Tom, is it true that you live in a Muggle orphanage?"
Tom glanced up sharply from his Transfiguration assignment.
"Who told you that?"
Miles looked over to Uthman and Alvar for assistance.
Uthman piped up, "Your grandfather. We sent owls to your grandfather's during the holidays. We wondered why you ignored our letters, so I asked your grandfather about it. He told me that you didn't live with him, but in a Muggle orphanage."
"Why don't you live with your grandfather?" said Miles.
"Never mind where he lives," said Alvar, the most perceptive of Tom's three close friends. "He's still our chum, eh?"
Uthman and Miles nodded their heads.
"Let him finish his homework," ordered Alvar.
Tom stared briefly at Alvar, a small boy with dark red hair and vivid blue eyes. Then he resumed working on Dumbledore's assignment.
Tom succeeded in completing his assignments before the train reached Hogwarts. He regretted that he did not have time to read his mother's diary. He decided to wait until he was in bed to attempt to read it. Alas, he fell asleep exhausted after the feast, the thought of his mother's memoirs temporarily forgotten.
******
The following day, after supper, Tom went to the second year boys' room to read his mother's diary while his friends entertained themselves with wizard chess in the common room.
He reached into his trunk, grabbed the journal, and flung himself onto the bed. The first page proclaimed, "Property of Winona Slytherin." He flipped to the first entry dated 30 April 1916.
---
My name is Winona Astrid Slytherin. I turned nine on the 27th of April. Mother gave this diury to me for my birthday. I live in Little Hangleton with Father and Mother. We have 1 kneezul, 5 roonspores, a crup, and 2 owls. My best friend is Virginia. She's a muggul. Her brother Lloyd is a soljer in a war. Father said that Virginia oughtn't be my friend because mugguls are filthy. Virginia takes a bath every day. She smells nice and her dresses and hair are always proper and neat. I don't think she's filthy.
---
He turned a page and saw an animated photograph that would have surprised him if he had seen it the previous year. The picture featured a man, woman, and an infant. He recognised the tall, jet-black haired man as his grandfather. The woman had to be his grandmother. A chubby baby was cradled in her arms. A caption below stated, "Father, Mother, and me."
The next page showed an image of a very pretty girl with long, black ringlets and midnight blue eyes holding a broom. Tom stared at the girl who was his mother. Smiling, she waved a few times and then hopped onto the broom. She kicked off and exited the picture. A moment later, she returned beaming. The entry below the photograph read, "Me and my Silver Arrow."
Another picture showed the nine-year-old Winona being hugged and kissed by her mother while a green and white striped cat with a lion's tail prowled nearby. Following that one was a photo of a grinning Winona with her arms wrapped around her father.
Tom began to feel resentful towards his mother.
---
22 October 1918
I love Hogwarts! I've been sorted in Slytherin. That makes sense because I'm a Slytherin. Father would've died of shame if I were in any of the other houses. Salazar Slytherin is one of the founders of Hogwarts and my many greats great-grandfather. My best friends are Kyla and Nellie. I miss Virginia. My favourite lessons are Charms and Transfiguration.
---
There was a photograph of his mother sitting with two girls by the lake. They smiled and waved at him. The caption below stated, "Kyla, me, and Nellie."
Tom traced the outline of his mother's face with his finger. She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, much prettier than Rhiannon Malfoy who was always snubbing him.
---
15 February 1922
I found out today from Kyla who heard it from Violet who said that she heard Beatrice tell Nadia that William Arlington fancies ME. The most handsome boy in Hogwarts likes me! Now, I don't know how to behave in his presence. I do not wish for him to think I am an improper girl.
Winnie loves William
---
Tom turned the page and gazed upon a portrait that snatched his breath away. God, his mother was beautiful! A teenaged girl with jet-black hair like his, glossy ringlets, rose-tinted cheeks, dark blue eyes full of mischief, and an enigmatic smile stared out at him.
"Mother," he whispered in awe.
Ensnared by the lovely image of his mother, he lost track of time. Eventually, he snapped out of the spell, shook his head, and finished reading the rest of the diary.
He read about the cherished grandfather who died just before she turned seven years old, her intimate friends, the boys she loved at some time or another, her lessons, parties, Quidditch, her parents, her pets, and her dreams. Tom read about his Muggle father, whom his mother had met one summer while buying fruit in Little Hangleton. He read about how she had instantly fallen in love with him, how sweet he was, how much wealth his family had, and how handsome he was. There was a Muggle photo of his father bound to one of the pages with Spellotape. The black and white picture depicted a handsome man with a charming, winning smile. Tom stared at his father with malevolence. He wished he could reach through the image against time and space to curse him.
His mother's last entry was written in a shaky hand about a row she had with her parents over the acceptance of Tom Riddle's marriage proposal.
Tom wondered if his father still lived in Little Hangleton. He blamed his beautiful mother's death solely on his vile, Muggle father.
******
He reread his mother's diary numerous times during the following months, memorizing her words and her face. Sometimes he hated her for falling in love with a filthy Muggle, and for dying. He wondered what it would have been like to have her love.
******
"Mr. Riddle, what are you doing in this murky library on a Saturday? Shouldn't you be out cheering your fellow Slytherins on the Quidditch pitch?"
Tom concealed the bright spark of irritation that flared up in him behind a congenial mask. He then glanced up at Professor Dumbledore. "I want to catch up on my studies, sir."
"Indeed? You're at the top of your year, Mr. Riddle. Perhaps you should take a break from studying and enjoy a rousing game of Quidditch."
Tom made no reply, but thought, Why don't you leave me be, you bloody arse?
"May I ask what you are reading?"
No.
"Yes, sir." Tom picked up the book and presented its cover to Dumbledore.
"Ah, Wizardry and Serpents: A Guide to Befriending Deadly Reptiles," exclaimed Dumbledore, and then he appeared to study Tom closely. "Do you desire to communicate with serpents, Mr. Riddle?"
"No, sir. Professor Falcon mentioned this book in lessons one day. It sounded interesting to me," he lied.
Dumbledore stared at Tom with an unreadable expression on his face. "Then I shall leave you to your reading."
Tom glared at Dumbledore's receding back. After the professor with the waist-length, auburn hair left the library, Tom returned to the book.
******
Alvar murmured, "There he is," to Tom, Uthman, and Miles. "He's a Mudblood."
Tom stared at the curly, blonde haired Gryffindor. The Slytherins and Gryffindors had Herbology together.
"I have an idea," said Tom before lessons began.
"What?" Miles responded.
"Let's get close to him."
"What do we want to do that for?" replied Uthman watching the Gryffindor with loathing on his face.
"You'll find out. Just follow me."
Alvar, Uthman, and Miles followed Tom over to where the Gryffindor was seated.
"Hello," said Tom in an ingratiatingly friendly voice and with a winning smile on his face. "What's your name?"
The boy looked at Tom with surprise. "Patrick. Patrick Edgewood."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Tom Riddle. These are my friends: Alvar McKinley, Uthman Malfoy, and Miles Dougal."
Uthman, Alvar, and Miles muttered greetings to Edgewood with barely disguised hostility.
"You don't mind if we join you at this table, d'you?"
"No."
"Now, now, everyone please settle down," said Professor Stemm. "I want one of you from each table to come up here and pick up a flobuncle."
Uthman leapt from his chair to retrieve the odd plant for their group. When he returned, he placed it on the centre of the table. It was a revolting appearing herb with large, yellowish-green petals and a bulbous, pulsating, blood red centre.
"The flobuncle is a very useful herb," proclaimed Professor Stemm. "It is used to treat burns. The diluted liquid in the centre is used to heal burnt skin while the petals, with their cooling and soothing properties, are used to cover the burn as it heals.
"In today's lesson, you will carefully remove the petals and place them in the specially coated box on your table. Once you have completed that task, you will very carefully slice open the centre to extract the liquid inside and pour it into the large phial. I want to emphasize that the liquid inside the flobuncle is under pressure. If you are too hasty in slicing the centre open, the undiluted liquid will squirt on someone nearby. Undiluted flobuncle liquid is exceedingly painful. So, be careful, students."
Tom, Alvar, Uthman, Miles, and Edgewood quietly removed the petals from the flobuncle. After the task was completed, Tom suggested that Alvar be the one to extract the liquid.
"Go on, Alvar," Tom prodded. He then gazed steadily into Alvar's eyes. "Slice it open, but be careful. Remember what Professor Stemm said," he added meaningfully.
With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Alvar picked up the cutting instrument. Edgewood was seated across from Alvar and looking down at his notes.
"Now, Alvar," said Tom quietly.
Edgewood glanced up at the same time as Alvar thoughtlessly slashed the flobuncle's centre. Clear liquid jetted out and splashed directly onto Edgewood's face. Edgewood shrieked as the flobuncle's essence burned into his skin. His face swelled rapidly and became discoloured. Edgewood staggered around wildly while tearing at his face with his fingernails.
"Oh dear," Professor Stemm shouted in alarm as she ran over to assist Edgewood. "No, don't scratch your face! It will make it worse!" She attempted to pin Edgewood's arms to his sides as the Muggle-born shrieked and his body flailed. His face was barely recognisable.
Most of the students watched the scene in horror. Alvar, Uthman, and Miles smirked at Edgewood's torment. Tom watched as though he were viewing the results of a successful experiment.
"One of you boys, please hand me some petals. Quick!" ordered Professor Stemm.
Reluctantly, Uthman gave a few petals to Professor Stemm. She placed them on Edgewood's face. His shrieks degenerated into hoarse sobs.
"Malfoy, I need a few more."
Uthman sighed and handed the professor several more petals.
Edgewood's sobs quieted into whimpers.
"Could one of you escort Mr. Edgewood to the hospital wing?"
"I'll do it, Professor," Tom volunteered.
Professor Stemm beamed at him. "Thank you, Mr. Riddle."
"Come on." He placed his arm around Edgewood's shoulders and directed him to the door of the greenhouse. "That really hurt, didn't it?"
Edgewood only moaned in response to Tom's question.
******
The Christmas holiday arrived and found Tom the only Slytherin left in the house again. He found the lack of companionship depressing, and felt as though he had been abandoned. Tom hated the Christmas holiday. It made him dwell on the things he would never receive and on the things that would be part of him forever. How he hated Christmas! He wished it could be rescinded. The depression left him bereft and full of self-loathing. So, he visited the Owlery.
The Owlery was quite cold that morning. There were only about dozen owls left. The rest had flown off to join their owners in the season's festivities. Tom pulled out his wand, pointed it at each bird in turn, and said, "Stupefy." This was another trick he did not learn in his lessons. The owls toppled off their perches and onto the floor. Tom gathered and placed them in a queue before him. He counted thirteen owls. Good, he thought. A lucky number.
He began to mutilate one bird at a time. Tom used a severing charm to remove their limbs, wings, beaks, eyes, and heads. He saved the best for last: a large barn owl. Kneeling on the chaff and bird excrement littered floor, Tom snapped the bones in the bird's wings with his bare hands. Then he used his thumb to pluck the eyes from the owl's head. Slicing open the bird's torso, he removed its organs and flung them across the circular room. A pleasurable sensation washed over him as he destroyed the bird until it was no longer recognised as such. Tom threw back his head and laughed for the first time in eight years. His laugh was peculiar.
Later, the Headmaster and the Heads of Houses would be appalled over the wanton destruction of fine, loyal birds. Not one of them would have any idea who could possibly have carried out such a deed.
******
"Jordan, what do you know of pain?"
"What?"
Tom had made friends with Jordan Towshipp of Ravenclaw, a fellow second year, during the Christmas holiday. They were in the deserted Ravenclaw common room before the fire. In a few days, the horde would return. Tom was stretched out on the floor supine with his hands clasped behind his head.
"What do you know of pain? D'you think beasts can tolerate more pain than humans?"
Towshipp thought for a moment. "I think beasts and humans tolerate pain equally. Beasts just show it differently. Humans make more noise, screaming and such. But, I think, if you placed a gnome and a human in the fire, they would feel the same pain."
Without warning and with seemingly inhuman speed, Tom grabbed Towshipp by his long, brown hair and pulled him dangerously close to the flames.
Fear on his face, Towshipp choked out, "What are you doing? Tom, gerroff me!"
He let go of Towshipp.
Towshipp sat up while warily watching Tom. Then he said, with anger and hurt, "What did you do that for?"
"I wanted to see how much noise you would make."
******
One day, at breakfast, an owl landed in front of Tom with a pink piece of parchment embroidered with lace in its beak. Tom peered at it suspiciously.
Maximillian LaSalle laughed. "Oooh, Tommy has a valentine."
Tom scowled at Max and retrieved the parchment in the shape of a heart from the owl. It was the first time he had ever received anything from anyone while at Hogwarts.
He read it while Uthman and Miles looked over his shoulders.
Tom, your hair is as black as midnight.
I would like to run my hands through it in the sunlight.
Tom, your eyes are so dreamy.
I love them so much, and I think your skin is creamy.
Tom, please be mine.
If you agree, I'll meet you by the lake at nine.
Miles and Uthman burst into gales of laughter.
Uthman, face red with mirth, choked out, "Tommy, your eyes are so dreamy."
"Shut up."
Tom glanced around the Slytherin table. He spotted Cynthia Darkling and Skye Amberidge, fellow second years, staring at him and giggling behind their hands. As he watched the girls, Skye blushed and turned her head.
His friends continued to laugh as Tom stood up and proceeded to leave the Great Hall.
"Oi, Tommy! I'll meet you at the lake at nine," Miles called out to Tom's swiftly receding back.
******
"Alvar, come here. I have something to tell you."
Alvar rose from the chair he was sitting on in the Slytherin common room and walked over to where Tom was standing.
"What?"
"Let's go in the room. Quick, before the rest notices that we are missing."
They ran downstairs to the boys' dormitory. Tom closed the door behind them after they entered the room.
"I think I have a way for us to beat the Gryffindors, tomorrow."
"Really? How?" said Alvar with interest.
Alvar was the Seeker for the Slytherin team. The Gryffindors were their eternal rivals, and the Slytherins hoped to win the Quidditch match against them.
"The Gryffindors don't have a backup Seeker."
"Yes, I know."
"To win the game, all you have to do is take Garrett out."
Alvar scowled and sarcastically replied, "And how am I supposed to do that, Tom?"
"Set her on fire."
Alvar snorted. "Really? How am I supposed to do that? Besides, if I set her on fire, we would lose. That would be a major foul."
"You can get away with it."
"And I keep asking you how, stupid."
Tom shoved him against the wall. "Don't call me stupid, Alvar. D'you want to win this match or not?"
"Yes, and I'm sorry," whined the boy who was small for his age. "Just tell me how."
Tom reached into his robe and pulled out a tiny, ordinary appearing pebble.
"Take this."
"How is a weensy rock going to help us win?"
"When no one is paying attention, throw it at Garrett. Make sure it hits her robe. I've placed a hex on it. Trust me, Alvar. It will take her out of the game."
"All right. It better work. We have to win this game. If we win, we'll be in the running for the Quidditch Cup."
"And the House Cup."
Slytherin won the Quidditch match against Gryffindor. About a quarter of the way into the game, Priscilla Garrett inexplicably burst into flames and was rushed to the hospital wing with third degree burns over much of her body. The only reserve player on the Gryffindor team was a Beater. It was the worst defeat the Gryffindors had seen in years. No one could explain how poor Garrett managed to spontaneously combust. It was the first Quidditch game Tom had ever attended, and he enjoyed it immensely.
******
He waited until everyone had left the room and then meekly went up to the Potion professor's desk.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Riddle?" said Professor Allkimee with a smile on her face. Tom Riddle was her favourite pupil. She thought that he made the rest of the students in her class appear dull in comparison.
"Professor, I was wondering if you would give me permission to take out a book in the restricted section. Please?"
"Let me see. Which book are you interested in?"
Tom handed her a slip of parchment.
Professor Allkimee arched her perfect eyebrows. "For Purebloods, Only: How To Prevent the Future Demise of Hogwarts by Salazar Slytherin. Hmm, I'm not sure of this, Mr. Riddle. This book is, erm, quite virulent. Do you understand? No, I cannot authorize this." She returned the permission slip to him.
A spark of fury flared in him at her refusal and he fought to quell it.
With mock sadness on his face, he said, "Please, Professor. I really do need that book. I know it probably has loads of hateful stuff in it about Muggles, but I don't feel that way about them. Can I tell you a secret?"
"Sure," she replied kindly, starting to rethink her position.
"You promise you will not tell anyone?"
"I promise."
Tom sighed heavily. "I live with Muggles. My father is a Muggle, and I love him dearly. Sometimes it's hard for me being a Slytherin. The older students tease me and call me Mudblood sometimes."
"Oh, you poor dear! I had no idea! Does Professor Falcon know about this?"
"No, ma'am. You're the only adult I've told. Please don't tell anyone! Please, Professor," he implored. "It would make things worse for me. It's really hard being Muggle-born in Slytherin. They all hate Muggles. I just wanted to read the book to see how their sort thinks. That way when they insult me, I could fight back. Please, Professor, I need that book. It's the only way I can stand up for myself."
She stared at the handsome, dark-haired boy who was slightly tall for his age with compassion. "All right, dear. I will grant you permission to read this hateful book."
She took the parchment from Tom and signed it.
"Thank you, Professor!" Tom said, flashing a charming smile at her.
Professor Allkimee thought to herself that the girls would be throwing themselves at Riddle in a few years, and sighed.
"Tom, please let me know if those Slytherins become too abusive."
"All right. Thanks!" He grinned and waved at her as he exited the room.
******
"Go on. Do it, Tom," encouraged Miles.
"Yes, do it. Before the third years and up return from Hogsmeade," Uthman prodded.
"Please, Tom?" begged Alvar.
"All right." Tom retrieved his wand, pointed it to the far corner of the common room, and said, "Serpensortia."
A large black snake with green eyes appeared on the far side of the room. Most of the first and second years that happened to be present screamed and proceeded to flee. A few fell and bruised themselves in their escape.
"Come here," Tom ordered the serpent.
The snake slithered over to Tom.
"Do you want to stay here with me?" he said as it reached him and began to crawl up onto his lap.
"No. It'sss too noisssy here. I don't like all of thessse humansss about me."
"All right. I'll send you back."
"Thanksss."
Tom waved his wand and the snake disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.
Alvar, Uthman, and Miles clapped. Cole Rudyard, Max LaSalle, and Zephyrus Baird stared at Tom with fright on their faces. Daemon and Omin Strick, identical first year twins, gazed at Tom with adoration.
"You speak Parseltongue," Daemon said with awe in his voice. "That's brilliant."
Tom smiled at the twins.
"Would you teach us how to summon a snake?" said Omin.
"And how to speak Parseltongue? Please?" Daemon begged.
"I'll try," Tom replied, drily.
"Thanks!" beamed Daemon. He turned to his brother. "He said that he would try."
From that day forward, the Strick twins worshipped Tom and were often seen following on his heels like puppies.
Zephyrus found his voice. "How come you never told us you were a Parselmouth?"
******
... Summer 1939: A few months before the Muggle war began ...
Tom was thoroughly exhausted when he retired for the day. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep as soon as his head hit the flat pillow.
A cold draft and a pillow being placed on his head partially awoke him. Then there was a heavy weight pressing down on him. Coming fully awake, he struggled to shake whatever it was off. A part of his mind seemed to think that he was still asleep and was in the midst of a nightmare. A sweaty hand snaked its way under the pillow and clamped its hand on his mouth. Then there was searing pain. He let out a muffled scream. On and on it went.
******
Tom dreaded and despised the day before it began. He hurt. Fury, fear, and deep shame waged a heated battle inside him.
The other boys, aged twelve through sixteen, were putting on their clothes and making their beds while Tom remained on his cot and struggled with an internal war. He was afraid to get up because everyone would see. The boys did not wear pyjamas. They slept in thin, white, short-sleeved shirts and pants.
None of the boys said anything to him or acknowledged his presence. They were under direct orders from the orphanage staff not to speak to Tom because he was evil.
Bingham barged into the room and ordered the boys to queue up for breakfast. Tom painfully sat up on his cot. While the boys were queuing up, he slid a little ways down the bed, careful to keep the thin blanket over him. He lifted the coverlet to assess the damage. There was blood on the sheet and on his pants.
"Expect me to do it again," someone whispered.
Tom glanced up in time to see sixteen-year-old Jared Shirley stroll past his cot.
"Riddle! Get up here. NOW!" barked Bingham.
Tom refused. He was not going to let the other boys see.
"RIDDLE!"
He remained where he was. Let him come to me, he thought.
"Go on down to breakfast," Bingham barked at the boys.
They filed past the beefy man while throwing glances over their shoulders at Tom.
Bingham stalked rapidly toward Riddle.
"Get up, boy!"
"I can't, sir."
Bingham reached out, brutally clamped his hand around Tom's arm, and wrenched him off the cot. He quickly spotted what Tom was attempting to conceal.
"You filthy, FILTHY...sodomite!"
He grabbed Tom cruelly by the neck and dragged him down the corridor. Then he pushed him into the room where the linen was washed.
"Stay in here until I return!"
A few minutes later, Bingham returned with Lewiston. They regarded him with revulsion.
"Fill the tub with hot water, Bingham," Lewiston ordered while looking at Tom as though he were something putrid.
Bingham dragged a large, tin tub to a water spigot, and turned it on full. Steaming hot water poured into the basin.
"You're not going anywhere until you've washed, dried, and folded every piece of linen in this room. Do you hear me, boy?"
Tom glanced over at the large piles of soiled linen with dismay.
"ANSWER ME, BOY."
"Yes, sir."
"When you're done, you will be sent to Solitary for a month, you unnatural freak."
Lewiston turned to Bingham and snapped, "Is it full, yet?"
"Almost."
Lewiston returned his hateful gaze onto Tom. "I should have expected it from the likes of you," he sneered. "Did you enjoy it, boy?"
"It's ready, sir," said Bingham.
"Strip!"
Tom finally comprehended. They wanted him to get into the tub full of scalding water. He started to back away.
"Grab him!"
Bingham grabbed Tom.
"NO!" Tom kicked at Bingham and hit him with his fists. "NO!"
Panting with the effort to subdue Tom, Bingham called out for Lewiston's assistance.
Lewiston kicked Tom in the groin, and he doubled up with agony. While he was temporarily immobilised, Bingham removed his shirt and Lewiston ripped off his blood-stained pants. Then they both lifted and carried him to the steaming tub.
"NO! NO! PLEASE, NO! NOOOOO! DON'T!"
They dropped him into the scalding water. Tom shrieked and attempted to get out but they held him down. After about two minutes, they pulled him from the tub. Tom continued to shriek. His body, from the chest downward, was burning! His skin was a blistered, raw red.
Over Tom's screams, Lewiston thundered, "You will remain here until every piece of linen is washed and folded!"
They locked him in the linen washroom.
Tom stood there shrieking from the immense pain. He wished that he had ten flobuncles in front of him. He hated the orphanage. He hated Muggles. He hated himself. Tom turned to the wall and began to beat his fists against it until they bled. Over and over, he chanted in his mind, I hate myself! He broke his knuckles unnoticed.
An all consuming rage and hatred began to build up inside him as he pounded his battered fists against the wall. He hated himself! He hated the pain. He hated the linen. He hated the orphanage. He hated Muggles! He wanted to kill, to destroy, and to maim.
Tom stopped beating his fists against the walls, threw back his head, and roared. All of the windows in the room shattered with that power. The linen was suddenly clean and folded neatly on the tables. His burnt skin instantly healed. His broken knuckles were mended. The water in the tub turned into a block of ice. Then the door blew off its hinges and fell flat onto the floor.
Krupp, Bingham, Lewiston, and Stewart charged into the room with mingled fear and bewilderment on their faces.
Tom, naked and whole again, turned his gaze onto the four men.
Lewiston, Krupp, Bingham, and Stewart saw a boy whose eyes were ablaze with cold fury. No one wanted to go near him.
Tom walked past the men. As he passed Krupp, Krupp lifted the metal pipe in his hand and brought it down on the back of Tom's head. The thirteen-year-old orphan fell unconscious to the floor.
******
He spent a month in Solitary. When Tom was finally released from confinement, he was rather thin and pale. The only thought that kept him going during those lonely days and nights in his cold, dark prison was revenge. He would never forget or forgive.
******
The orphans were shuttled to Holwark Textile Factory on buses for another lengthy and arduous day of labour. It was common for the supervisors to strike the boys for being too slow or for performing sloppy work. Also, it was common for the orphans to be injured or killed by the machinery that wove, treated, and printed wool. They were never allowed time for rest or food. Typically, the boys worked in groups of two or three.
On this day, Tom wanted to ensure that he was paired with Jared Shirley. He manoeuvred himself into position so that when the foreman assigned teams he would be placed with Jared. The foreman, a beefy man with a red face and a large, sandy moustache; barked out teams and directed them to preselected machines.
"Worthy, Steen, and Michaels, number three.
"Thomas and Pritchard, number eight.
"Shirley and Riddle, number thirteen...."
Tom smirked and followed Jared up a flight of metal stairs leading to a scaffold. He was inwardly pleased that they were assigned to one of the centrifuges.
Silently, they worked together on the scaffold to feed wool into the centrifuge below. Often, Tom caught Jared's bright, hungry eyes on him. He knew what Jared was plotting.
"Tonight, Satan," whispered Jared with a feverish gleam in his eyes. "I'm coming for you, tonight."
"You can have me now."
Jared's expression was that of surprise at Tom's reaction. He quickly recovered, and said in a low, silky voice, "You liked it, eh?"
"Yes. I want you to do it, again. Please?"
"Tonight."
"No. Now. Please, Jared?"
Jared glanced down at the factory floor.
"No one will see us if we move over there," said Tom pointing to a gloomy space partially hidden by a support column projecting up to the ceiling.
Jared, wrestling with whether or not to accept the enticing offer, remained rooted to the spot while Tom strolled into the darkness.
"What are you waiting for?" he said to Jared while unbuttoning his trousers. "No one is going to see us. That bloody Anderson is having lunch."
"All right," replied Jared full of anticipation.
As Jared approached him, Tom moved slightly towards the end where there was no barrier separating the platform on which they stood and the large centrifuge below.
"All...." Jared began in a breathy voice, and then Tom roughly shoved him.
For less than a second that seemed like an eternity, Jared pin-wheeled his arms in a frenzied fight to maintain his balance. His mouth was open in a perfect "O" of surprise. Then Jared lost his footing in the battle and plunged downward into the swiftly rotating machine. Tom stepped up to the edge of the scaffold while buttoning up his trousers and looked down. The scene was grisly. He grinned, and then ran toward the stairs shouting for help.
******
... 6 days before the Muggle war ...
For a moment, he coldly stared down at the boy. Slytherin snatched the permission slip to visit Hogsmeade, signed it, and thrust it at him.
"Thank you," said Tom taking the parchment.
Slytherin waved his hand as though he were batting at an annoying fly, and left the compartment. Shortly after, Uthman arrived with his parents and sisters.
"Father, Mother, this is Tom."
The Malfoys stared down at him with disdain.
"Is it true what my Uthman tells me?" Mrs. Malfoy said, snobbishly. "That you live in a Muggle orphanage?"
Tom's face reddened.
Mr. Malfoy added, "Imagine one of Salazar Slytherin's own descendants not only living with filthy Muggles, but also having their vile blood in his veins." He shook his head in disgust.
Tom's hands clenched into fists as he listened to Malfoy's spiel.
Mr. Malfoy was not finished. "Salazar would roll over in his grave if he knew one of his descendants was a half-blood."
"Father, it's all right," Uthman jumped in. "Tom doesn't like Muggles any more than we. He has proper wizarding pride. You said that was really important."
Malfoy turned his chilly, grey eyes onto his only son. "True, Uthman, but I would prefer that you only kept company with purebloods, not mongrels. We have our own reputation to keep."
Then Mrs. Malfoy, acting as though Tom were invisible, said, "Mahnnie, even Drakonis, his own grandfather, doesn't want him in his home. He's ashamed of him, understandably so. Remember what we have told you: we will not interfere with whom you select as your friends, as long as they aren't Mudbloods. However, you must understand that you must never bring him into our home. Your father and I will not allow it. He is not welcome."
Tom sat stewing in a private miasma of humiliation, bitterness, and resentment wrapped in rage. He did not notice when Uthman's parents and Rhiannon left the compartment.
"Hullo," shouted Miles brightly as he entered the compartment and sat down next to Uthman. "Oi, Malfoy! Is this your itsby-bitsy, weensy sister?"
The almost eleven-year-old girl with long, silvery blonde hair and denim blue eyes blushed.
"Stop acting stupid, girl, and tell him your name. Go on before I slap you." Uthman raised his hand menacingly.
She cringed slightly and quietly said, "Chloe."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Chloe. I'm Miles Dougal. That one over there is Tom Riddle, otherwise known as 'The Snake Charmer.'"
Her eyes darted furtively over to Tom. Then Uthman slapped her.
"Don't you have any manners, Chloe? Tell Miles that you are pleased to meet him. Go on."
With tears in her eyes and a red handprint on her face, she said, "Pleased to meet you."
"Now say hello to Tom."
"Hello, Tom."
Tom nodded his head slightly.
"Why are you so f---ing mean to your little sis, Uthman?" said Miles.
"Because she deserves it," he snapped. "Father and Mother pamper her like she's some kind of priceless doll. They always show her off to visitors to our home. It's disgusting, really. They buy her whatever she wants. At home, Rhiannon and I must treat her like she's some kind of princess. Father even calls her 'Princess.' So, I have to teach her that she isn't one. The spoiled, little bitch needs reminding.
"Every time Father and Mother travel to exciting, powerfully magical places like Egypt, they leave me and Rhian behind and take her. We've never been to Egypt." Uthman glowered at Chloe, who shrank back from him.
"Hullo, folks!" Alvar burst into the compartment. "Why hello, Chloe."
"Hello," she replied, demurely.
A minute later, Rhiannon entered the compartment. "Come, Chloe. You don't want to stay with the boys."
Chloe leapt from her seat, but was prevented from reaching the door by Uthman grabbing her wrist.
"No. She's staying with me. I'm her big brother. I'll watch over her."
"Honestly, Mahnnie. She doesn't want to spend the entire trip to Hogwarts with boys. Come, Chloe. You can share a compartment with Winsome, Nanna, and me."
Uthman gripped Chloe's wrist tighter as she attempted to leave with her sister.
"Let's ask her who she wants to be with." Uthman looked at Chloe and said in a sugar coated voice, "Chloe, you want to stay with me, don't you? Don't you, Chloe? I'll take care of you."
Unseen by anyone, except Tom, Uthman dug his nails into Chloe's soft flesh.
With misery on her face, Chloe told Rhiannon that she would remain with Uthman.
"Suit yourself then," responded Rhiannon. She rolled her eyes and exited the compartment.
Uthman let go of Chloe's wrist, dotted with blood-filled half-moons, and shoved her into the seat across from Tom.
Tom thought to himself that girls were weak. Dismissing his friends and Chloe from his thoughts, Tom started work on his unfinished Herbology assignment.