Book First:
(Magic of the Mind)
Tom looked at her in disgust. A witch? Spawn of Satan? It couldn't be! His wife, a witch!
"You…you're a…witch?" he stuttered. Disbelief and shock took over him, "No, it can't be so!"
"Tom, please," she said as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Tom, I…" She walked toward him, gently. Tom took a quick step back.
"You…you stay away," he panted. Fear crept into his mind. She, his beautiful wife, was a child of the Devil? She looked at him, sadly, her blue eyes filled with grief.
"Tom, I'm…so sorry," she sobbed. "Tom, no matter what I…I will always love…"
"DON"T YOU SAY THAT! YOU…I CAN"T BELIEVE YOU!" he screamed at her, taking another step away from her. "YOU BITCH!"
"Tom…" she sobbed. "Please, don't leave." She fell to the ground, sobbing hysterically. Tom looked at her with disgust and grabbed his coat. He put his hand on the brass doorknob. He then paused to look at her. There she was, sobbing by the blazing fire. That's where she belonged, in the fires of hell.
"You, you go to hell, witch," he said coldly as he opened the door and walked outside.
"Tom," she whimpered. He looked at her coldly and then slammed the door sharply.
The stars were shinning down on him as he walked toward his car. The moon was full, a witch's moon, he thought angrily to himself. He heard the door open and he turned to see her, standing there, looking at him.
"Tom, I love you, still, no matter what you think," she sobbed quietly, "But, please, stay, for me, for your child." He looked at her coldly. She was almost ready to go into labor.
"You and that, child can go to hell for all I care," he snarled. Tom turned around and walked away, away from the house, from her and her child. "Stay out of my life, bitch!"
Tom drove away from the small town. He drove full speed away from her, that evil woman that he once called his wife. She was dead to him now. Her and the child she carried. They were both the Devil's children, and he hated them. He put his foot down hard on the acceleration and he sped toward the town of Little Hagton.
He saw Frank in the garden as he pulled up to his parents secluded home. He would never have to see her again, he thought happily. He turned off the engine and pulled the keys out of the ignition. He got out of the car and smiled. The Riddle house, a splendid and very expensive home where he had grown up and lived for years.
Home, away from that witch, never to see her again, home, he thought happily to himself as he walked up the stairs to the door of his parent's house.
"It's a boy, miss," said the nurse to Mrs. Riddle. She smiled down happily at her son. She had made it through that terrible birth, and now, she was dying. But, without Tom, she was dead anyway. Her son, he would be something great one day, she thought as she looked down at him.
"Call him, call him Thomas Marvolo Riddle," she whispered faintly to the nurse. "I wrote this for him…in case I was to die. Now, give this to him, please." She stroked his tiny forehead and then held his tiny hand as he cried. "Tom, I love you so. My son, be a good b…" Mrs. Riddle's hand dropped and hit the side of the bed. The rise and fall of her chest stopped and her heart had quite it's rhythmic beating. She was dead. Little Tom started to cry even louder, as if he knew that his only family had just passed on.
The nurse set him down in a cradle and picked up the telephone. She quickly dialed a number. A woman picked up and said "Hello."
"Hello, Ms. Prince, I have another one for you…yes, just a baby, just born…mother died," she said to the lady.
It looked like the orphanage had another arrival.
Tom stared out the window and at the sky. The clouds drifted across the blue lazily and the sun shined brightly. He was six today, but did anyone care? Six years old and not one person on the planet cared, well, maybe one cared.
"Tom!" Stacy said as she ran in the room, holding something behind her back. Stacy was about fourteen and had lovely blonde hair that fell to her back. She had warm and loving hazel eyes and she was beaming at him. "I made you something special for your birthday." She handed him a homemade card. He smiled up at her.
"Thank you," he said quietly. He usually was quiet. He was a scrauny little boy with jet black hair that usually was untidy and he had brown eyes.
"Well, come on, read it already!" she said eagerly.
Tom read the front, which had six little hearts on it. It said Happy Birthday!
Tom opened the card. He saw a picture of him and Stacy holding hands and smiling. Stacy was a great artist. Then, he looked at the page. There was a message at the right hand side of the page.
Dearest Tom,
Have a great day today! Though it's not much, but I do wish you the happiest of days for today and the rest of your life! Someday, I will take you around the world for your birthday, but, for now, this is the best I could do. Just wait until I can drive! Love you always, "Little Brother"
Your "Big Sister"
Stacy
Tom smiled at the driving comment.
"Stacy…thanks," he said. "But, no accidents when you drive, okay." Stacy giggled a bit and then beamed down at him.
"Well, birthday boy," she said, picking him up in a baby cradle fashion, "Let's go eat." Tom smiled at her as she carried him down the hallway and into the Mess Hall.
The food was gross, in Tom's words, but they had to eat it, or they'd starve. Tom picked at his half-cooked pancakes and almost raw bacon and eggs. He wished they'd at least cook the food.
"Hey, Stacy," Michael said, walking up to the table with his gang of friends. Tom looked up and glared at them. They were always picking on him and once they even beat him. Tom had bruises for a month at least.
"Wanna join us at our table," he asked. Stacy turned around, rolling her eyes and looking at him in disgust.
"No, I don't, wanna join you and your little, friends anywhere. Just go, you are ruining Tom's Birthday." Oh great, she said his name. The boys glared down at him before leaving, he could expect another beating from them.
"Stacy, don't…" Tom said faintly.
"Don't what? Don't make those nasty, rude and ugly boys leave?" she asked, taking a bite of the cold bacon.
"No, not that…don't say my name."
"Why?" she asked, looking at him curiously.
" 'Cause they beat me up last time you did. 'Member, you said that they should go away and not bug "me or Tom". Then, they beat me up outside."
"No, they did that?" she asked, shocked, "I thought that they were rude to you, but…they beat you up?" Tom nodded his head and looked at those boys. They were glaring at him, planning when to get him, and he knew it. He shuddered, because last time, they told him that, "Next time, we'll use knives! Stay away from Stacy!" But, like he was a threat anyway. She was fourteen, and there he was, six. That's a pretty big age difference.
Tom walked outside to the sunny day. He had his head down and his hands in his pockets. He wanted to disappear, maybe even die. He walked past everybody and started to the forest. Tom had his special place, that no one knew about, even Stacy didn't.
There was a gully filled with sand that Tom liked to go to. There, he was below the ground and invisible to people who pass him by, except those who looked down to see him. That's how he was in life, only seen when people looked hard, like Stacy, and today, those boys.
Tom laid down in the sand, running his fingers and toes through it. He stared at the treetops, and he wished he could climb one of them. Then, no one could get him; no one would want to. Suddenly, he sat up in alarm. Tom heard footsteps and laughing. The boys, he panicked. Where do I hide? He looked around frantically, but there was no place in the gully.
"Hey, Tom," Michael said menacingly. Tom backed away, he was barely six and they were sixteen, and there were six of them while he had himself.
"I thought we told you. I thought that last time…" he said, pulling up a switchblade, "you learned to stay away from her." The guys all smiled, laughing at his fear. Then, they jumped down into the gully.
"Stand up, Tom," Michael said. Tom stayed on the ground, and Michael, pulled him up by his shirt collar. "You should do what I say, Tom, that way you just…" he said, putting the knife next to his neck. "…might get it easier." Tom tried to pull away and somehow managed. As he fell to the ground, he heard Michael yell out in pain. Great, he had kicked Michael, now he would really get it. Tom, shaking, backed away from Michael, who was glaring at him with such a hatred that he might just kill Tom today.
Michael leapt onto Tom, his friends all held him down and covered his mouth. Tom couldn't move or make a sound. The knife slowly got closer. Tom shuddered nervously and one of the boys kicked him hard in the gut. Tom began to cry.
"You stupid kid!" Michael yelled right in his ear. "You shouldn't have done anything!" the blade was at his neck again. "I could kill you, you know…" Suddenly, Tom heard a huge snapping sound. Between where the boys were kneeling over him, he saw a mighty oak falling straight towards them. The boys were screaming and running off, Michael probably the loudest, but Tom, Tom couldn't move because of the pain in his side. He was dead now, he thought as the tree came down on him.
Tom shut his eyes. Wait, he thought, I'm alive. Tom opened his eyes and then cried out in alarm. There the tree was, hovering above him, barley two feet above him, it was floating. Tom tried to sit up, but all he could do was lie there because of his pain.
Within minutes, Mrs. Prince was out there, and she then saw the hovering tree.
"My word!" she exclaimed in disbelief. Stacy ran up next to her and her mouth dropped in shock and amazement.
"TOM!" she exclaimed. She jumped into the gully and went next to him. "How?"
He knew as little as she did. He looked up at her, puzzled and in pain. Stacy picked him up out of the gully. As soon as he was in safety, the tree fell all of the way to the ground of the gully. Tom looked at it, shocked and very confused. Stacy stared at the tree and then looked at Tom. Like he had the answer to what had just happened.
"The…the tree…it, it…broke!" he panted, looking at Stacy and Mrs. Prince.
"Young and big oaks do NOT just break like that, Tom, let alone hover in the air!" she said to him. She was trying to solve the puzzle, find a logical answer, but there wasn't any.
"Tom, let's go home," Stacy said. She carried him through the forest and back to the orphanage. Tom saw the boys. Michael looked at him, shocked that he was still alive, that or the fact that Tom was not squashed into the flat shape of a pancake.
Stacy brought him to his bed in the dorm-room. He couldn't move because his side hurt so badly. She stroked his forehead kindly, like a mother to a son.
"Tom, it'll be okay," she whispered. Stacy looked down at him and smiled.
"Stop shaking," she said. He tried, but he couldn't, he was confused and scared. He looked up at her and she looked down, reassuringly.
"Mr. Riddle, I need to see you in my office as soon as possible," Mrs. Prince said to him. "Stacy can you bring him there?"
"Yes ma'am," she said loudly and Mrs. Prince smiled at her. She then turned and left the room. What did she want, Tom thought worriedly. Usually going to the office meant that you were in trouble.
Fifteen minutes later, Tom was sitting in a chair facing Mrs. Prince's desk. She looked at him and smiled kindly.
"Mr. Riddle," she said.
"Yes," Tom said meekly. He was shaking again.
"I have something for you. It is something I was saving for you until you could understand it. Being as smart as you are, I thought it would make a nice birthday present."
Mrs. Prince opened her desk drawer and pulled out a sealed envelope. She then handed it to Tom.
"What…what is it, Mrs. Prince?" Tom asked.
"It is a letter to you from your mother. She wrote it before your birth." Mrs. Prince looked at him. "Dear, you can open it." Tom looked at the letter. His mother? A letter? Why?
Tom broke the red wax seal and unfolded the piece of paper. He read to himself.
Dearest Tom,
I have already named you, for I just know you will be a boy, a very special boy.
If you are reading this, I am dead, but that doesn't mean that I am not with you and that I do not love you. Thomas, I love you so much, though I have never seen your face.
If you think things are bad, I want you to know that I am and will always be here for you, with you. You are my son, and a magical, special boy.
At ten, be prepared for your life to take a wonderful turn. You will be with people like you, special like you are.
Look at life and look for the best in others and in yourself. Be a good boy, for me and for your father, Tom Riddle. He may still live, may not, but he loves you too, no matter what.
I love you, my son,
Meredith Riddle
Tom read this note three times before leaving Mrs. Prince's office. He could move again, which was nice, though he still had so much pain in his side. Slowly, he walked back to his room, re-reading the letter from his mother.
Stacy was waiting for him. She looked up at him and smiled faintly.
"It's…a letter…from my mum…dead mum," Tom said, handing her the piece of paper. Stacy read with interest. She then looked up at Tom.
"Tom," Stacy said, looking at the note once more, "Your mother…she's trying to tell you something."
Tom already knew that. Magical, special? Like he would ever amount to anything. When he was older, no one would ever know his name; no one would care about him, let alone think about him.
Tom nodded to her.
"I know," Tom said. "I want…to-to know what she was saying." Tom thought that the tree might relate to this note and the "magical" part. But, he had no clue about what would happen when he would turn ten.
"So do I," Stacy replied, placing a hand on his shoulder gently. "We can do it, we can do it together."
"Er…I guess."
Tom didn't need her help, he would figure this out on his own.
And figure out how to use his "Magic" to his advantage…
(Magic of the Mind)
Tom looked at her in disgust. A witch? Spawn of Satan? It couldn't be! His wife, a witch!
"You…you're a…witch?" he stuttered. Disbelief and shock took over him, "No, it can't be so!"
"Tom, please," she said as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Tom, I…" She walked toward him, gently. Tom took a quick step back.
"You…you stay away," he panted. Fear crept into his mind. She, his beautiful wife, was a child of the Devil? She looked at him, sadly, her blue eyes filled with grief.
"Tom, I'm…so sorry," she sobbed. "Tom, no matter what I…I will always love…"
"DON"T YOU SAY THAT! YOU…I CAN"T BELIEVE YOU!" he screamed at her, taking another step away from her. "YOU BITCH!"
"Tom…" she sobbed. "Please, don't leave." She fell to the ground, sobbing hysterically. Tom looked at her with disgust and grabbed his coat. He put his hand on the brass doorknob. He then paused to look at her. There she was, sobbing by the blazing fire. That's where she belonged, in the fires of hell.
"You, you go to hell, witch," he said coldly as he opened the door and walked outside.
"Tom," she whimpered. He looked at her coldly and then slammed the door sharply.
The stars were shinning down on him as he walked toward his car. The moon was full, a witch's moon, he thought angrily to himself. He heard the door open and he turned to see her, standing there, looking at him.
"Tom, I love you, still, no matter what you think," she sobbed quietly, "But, please, stay, for me, for your child." He looked at her coldly. She was almost ready to go into labor.
"You and that, child can go to hell for all I care," he snarled. Tom turned around and walked away, away from the house, from her and her child. "Stay out of my life, bitch!"
Tom drove away from the small town. He drove full speed away from her, that evil woman that he once called his wife. She was dead to him now. Her and the child she carried. They were both the Devil's children, and he hated them. He put his foot down hard on the acceleration and he sped toward the town of Little Hagton.
He saw Frank in the garden as he pulled up to his parents secluded home. He would never have to see her again, he thought happily. He turned off the engine and pulled the keys out of the ignition. He got out of the car and smiled. The Riddle house, a splendid and very expensive home where he had grown up and lived for years.
Home, away from that witch, never to see her again, home, he thought happily to himself as he walked up the stairs to the door of his parent's house.
"It's a boy, miss," said the nurse to Mrs. Riddle. She smiled down happily at her son. She had made it through that terrible birth, and now, she was dying. But, without Tom, she was dead anyway. Her son, he would be something great one day, she thought as she looked down at him.
"Call him, call him Thomas Marvolo Riddle," she whispered faintly to the nurse. "I wrote this for him…in case I was to die. Now, give this to him, please." She stroked his tiny forehead and then held his tiny hand as he cried. "Tom, I love you so. My son, be a good b…" Mrs. Riddle's hand dropped and hit the side of the bed. The rise and fall of her chest stopped and her heart had quite it's rhythmic beating. She was dead. Little Tom started to cry even louder, as if he knew that his only family had just passed on.
The nurse set him down in a cradle and picked up the telephone. She quickly dialed a number. A woman picked up and said "Hello."
"Hello, Ms. Prince, I have another one for you…yes, just a baby, just born…mother died," she said to the lady.
It looked like the orphanage had another arrival.
Tom stared out the window and at the sky. The clouds drifted across the blue lazily and the sun shined brightly. He was six today, but did anyone care? Six years old and not one person on the planet cared, well, maybe one cared.
"Tom!" Stacy said as she ran in the room, holding something behind her back. Stacy was about fourteen and had lovely blonde hair that fell to her back. She had warm and loving hazel eyes and she was beaming at him. "I made you something special for your birthday." She handed him a homemade card. He smiled up at her.
"Thank you," he said quietly. He usually was quiet. He was a scrauny little boy with jet black hair that usually was untidy and he had brown eyes.
"Well, come on, read it already!" she said eagerly.
Tom read the front, which had six little hearts on it. It said Happy Birthday!
Tom opened the card. He saw a picture of him and Stacy holding hands and smiling. Stacy was a great artist. Then, he looked at the page. There was a message at the right hand side of the page.
Dearest Tom,
Have a great day today! Though it's not much, but I do wish you the happiest of days for today and the rest of your life! Someday, I will take you around the world for your birthday, but, for now, this is the best I could do. Just wait until I can drive! Love you always, "Little Brother"
Your "Big Sister"
Stacy
Tom smiled at the driving comment.
"Stacy…thanks," he said. "But, no accidents when you drive, okay." Stacy giggled a bit and then beamed down at him.
"Well, birthday boy," she said, picking him up in a baby cradle fashion, "Let's go eat." Tom smiled at her as she carried him down the hallway and into the Mess Hall.
The food was gross, in Tom's words, but they had to eat it, or they'd starve. Tom picked at his half-cooked pancakes and almost raw bacon and eggs. He wished they'd at least cook the food.
"Hey, Stacy," Michael said, walking up to the table with his gang of friends. Tom looked up and glared at them. They were always picking on him and once they even beat him. Tom had bruises for a month at least.
"Wanna join us at our table," he asked. Stacy turned around, rolling her eyes and looking at him in disgust.
"No, I don't, wanna join you and your little, friends anywhere. Just go, you are ruining Tom's Birthday." Oh great, she said his name. The boys glared down at him before leaving, he could expect another beating from them.
"Stacy, don't…" Tom said faintly.
"Don't what? Don't make those nasty, rude and ugly boys leave?" she asked, taking a bite of the cold bacon.
"No, not that…don't say my name."
"Why?" she asked, looking at him curiously.
" 'Cause they beat me up last time you did. 'Member, you said that they should go away and not bug "me or Tom". Then, they beat me up outside."
"No, they did that?" she asked, shocked, "I thought that they were rude to you, but…they beat you up?" Tom nodded his head and looked at those boys. They were glaring at him, planning when to get him, and he knew it. He shuddered, because last time, they told him that, "Next time, we'll use knives! Stay away from Stacy!" But, like he was a threat anyway. She was fourteen, and there he was, six. That's a pretty big age difference.
Tom walked outside to the sunny day. He had his head down and his hands in his pockets. He wanted to disappear, maybe even die. He walked past everybody and started to the forest. Tom had his special place, that no one knew about, even Stacy didn't.
There was a gully filled with sand that Tom liked to go to. There, he was below the ground and invisible to people who pass him by, except those who looked down to see him. That's how he was in life, only seen when people looked hard, like Stacy, and today, those boys.
Tom laid down in the sand, running his fingers and toes through it. He stared at the treetops, and he wished he could climb one of them. Then, no one could get him; no one would want to. Suddenly, he sat up in alarm. Tom heard footsteps and laughing. The boys, he panicked. Where do I hide? He looked around frantically, but there was no place in the gully.
"Hey, Tom," Michael said menacingly. Tom backed away, he was barely six and they were sixteen, and there were six of them while he had himself.
"I thought we told you. I thought that last time…" he said, pulling up a switchblade, "you learned to stay away from her." The guys all smiled, laughing at his fear. Then, they jumped down into the gully.
"Stand up, Tom," Michael said. Tom stayed on the ground, and Michael, pulled him up by his shirt collar. "You should do what I say, Tom, that way you just…" he said, putting the knife next to his neck. "…might get it easier." Tom tried to pull away and somehow managed. As he fell to the ground, he heard Michael yell out in pain. Great, he had kicked Michael, now he would really get it. Tom, shaking, backed away from Michael, who was glaring at him with such a hatred that he might just kill Tom today.
Michael leapt onto Tom, his friends all held him down and covered his mouth. Tom couldn't move or make a sound. The knife slowly got closer. Tom shuddered nervously and one of the boys kicked him hard in the gut. Tom began to cry.
"You stupid kid!" Michael yelled right in his ear. "You shouldn't have done anything!" the blade was at his neck again. "I could kill you, you know…" Suddenly, Tom heard a huge snapping sound. Between where the boys were kneeling over him, he saw a mighty oak falling straight towards them. The boys were screaming and running off, Michael probably the loudest, but Tom, Tom couldn't move because of the pain in his side. He was dead now, he thought as the tree came down on him.
Tom shut his eyes. Wait, he thought, I'm alive. Tom opened his eyes and then cried out in alarm. There the tree was, hovering above him, barley two feet above him, it was floating. Tom tried to sit up, but all he could do was lie there because of his pain.
Within minutes, Mrs. Prince was out there, and she then saw the hovering tree.
"My word!" she exclaimed in disbelief. Stacy ran up next to her and her mouth dropped in shock and amazement.
"TOM!" she exclaimed. She jumped into the gully and went next to him. "How?"
He knew as little as she did. He looked up at her, puzzled and in pain. Stacy picked him up out of the gully. As soon as he was in safety, the tree fell all of the way to the ground of the gully. Tom looked at it, shocked and very confused. Stacy stared at the tree and then looked at Tom. Like he had the answer to what had just happened.
"The…the tree…it, it…broke!" he panted, looking at Stacy and Mrs. Prince.
"Young and big oaks do NOT just break like that, Tom, let alone hover in the air!" she said to him. She was trying to solve the puzzle, find a logical answer, but there wasn't any.
"Tom, let's go home," Stacy said. She carried him through the forest and back to the orphanage. Tom saw the boys. Michael looked at him, shocked that he was still alive, that or the fact that Tom was not squashed into the flat shape of a pancake.
Stacy brought him to his bed in the dorm-room. He couldn't move because his side hurt so badly. She stroked his forehead kindly, like a mother to a son.
"Tom, it'll be okay," she whispered. Stacy looked down at him and smiled.
"Stop shaking," she said. He tried, but he couldn't, he was confused and scared. He looked up at her and she looked down, reassuringly.
"Mr. Riddle, I need to see you in my office as soon as possible," Mrs. Prince said to him. "Stacy can you bring him there?"
"Yes ma'am," she said loudly and Mrs. Prince smiled at her. She then turned and left the room. What did she want, Tom thought worriedly. Usually going to the office meant that you were in trouble.
Fifteen minutes later, Tom was sitting in a chair facing Mrs. Prince's desk. She looked at him and smiled kindly.
"Mr. Riddle," she said.
"Yes," Tom said meekly. He was shaking again.
"I have something for you. It is something I was saving for you until you could understand it. Being as smart as you are, I thought it would make a nice birthday present."
Mrs. Prince opened her desk drawer and pulled out a sealed envelope. She then handed it to Tom.
"What…what is it, Mrs. Prince?" Tom asked.
"It is a letter to you from your mother. She wrote it before your birth." Mrs. Prince looked at him. "Dear, you can open it." Tom looked at the letter. His mother? A letter? Why?
Tom broke the red wax seal and unfolded the piece of paper. He read to himself.
Dearest Tom,
I have already named you, for I just know you will be a boy, a very special boy.
If you are reading this, I am dead, but that doesn't mean that I am not with you and that I do not love you. Thomas, I love you so much, though I have never seen your face.
If you think things are bad, I want you to know that I am and will always be here for you, with you. You are my son, and a magical, special boy.
At ten, be prepared for your life to take a wonderful turn. You will be with people like you, special like you are.
Look at life and look for the best in others and in yourself. Be a good boy, for me and for your father, Tom Riddle. He may still live, may not, but he loves you too, no matter what.
I love you, my son,
Meredith Riddle
Tom read this note three times before leaving Mrs. Prince's office. He could move again, which was nice, though he still had so much pain in his side. Slowly, he walked back to his room, re-reading the letter from his mother.
Stacy was waiting for him. She looked up at him and smiled faintly.
"It's…a letter…from my mum…dead mum," Tom said, handing her the piece of paper. Stacy read with interest. She then looked up at Tom.
"Tom," Stacy said, looking at the note once more, "Your mother…she's trying to tell you something."
Tom already knew that. Magical, special? Like he would ever amount to anything. When he was older, no one would ever know his name; no one would care about him, let alone think about him.
Tom nodded to her.
"I know," Tom said. "I want…to-to know what she was saying." Tom thought that the tree might relate to this note and the "magical" part. But, he had no clue about what would happen when he would turn ten.
"So do I," Stacy replied, placing a hand on his shoulder gently. "We can do it, we can do it together."
"Er…I guess."
Tom didn't need her help, he would figure this out on his own.
And figure out how to use his "Magic" to his advantage…