Dear Tom Riddle,
Chapter 1 The Slytherin Boy
Emma looked up from the page where she had been doodling on in her Transfiguration class when the room went absolutely silent only to realize that the classroom had been emptied of its usual occupants.
"Oh dear! Not again!" she said as she pushed her chair back and collected her books, ink, and quills. This was the ninth time she had been the last to exit her homeroom and was probably going to be the twelfth she would be late to Muggle Studies. Emma already knew what was to transpire. As she stepped into the classroom Mrs. Burbage's shrill voice rang out.
"Miss. Labyrinth!" she yelled in her high pitch, turning the heads of the already seated students. Emma usually tried to avoid this much attention but Mrs. Burbage made this task impossible. "This is the third time you have been late to my class this week! Do you know what that requires? Hmm?" Emma sighed inwardly in exasperation but responded.
"A detention?" Emma questioned in the best timid voice she could muster. It is probably for the best that Mrs. Burbage can not count because I have realistically missed class four times this week, she noted.
"Correct!" She screeched, "You will stay after class to speak to me!" Emma nodded quietly and sat in the last seat available, a seat in the back of the room. There were no assigned seats but this particular seat was always left open. The only reason: Emma Labyrinth sat there. The only people willing to sit next to her were Emma's friend Elizabeth, a fellow Hufflepuff named Matthew, and a Slytherin boy who never even looked at her. The rumors spread around seemed to cause this phenomenon. Rumors about glowing eyes, murdered family members, sea voyages, pirates, circus travels, and more. Though these rumors were flase the center of these rumors were based on facts. 1. Emma had no family 2. She was a Muggleborn 3. She had ADHD and, most importantly, 4. Emma was a born animagius. It was extremely rare but when it happened it was strange and seen as a curse among the wizarding community. It also left a toll on the unlucky person it was bestowed upon; in Emma's case this meant she had to hide the rabbit tail protruding from her tailbone. And so people did what people typically do, they pushed away what they did not understand. The lesson continued after the interruption she had caused, sadly, so she had to sit still and learn the functions of the rubber duck. (Emma was not failing any of her classes, it was just that she had a short attention span.) During the lesson though, as the class was laughing about how foolish muggles were, The Slytherin Boy caught her eye. She had not laughed at the jest the class had made of muggles for her own mother and father had been muggles and, though they had not obtained the opportunity to raise her, she felt the need to defend them. The Slytherin Boy hadn't laughed either nevertheless and Emma wanted to know why. Was someone in his family perhaps a muggle or squib? What even was his name? Emma always thought he was a pureblood but she loved good mysteries and would chase these cases to the end. After the class had ended (and after she had received a mind numbing lecture of the importance of a punctual schedule from Mrs. Burbage) she stepped out of the door with her pile of new Muggle Studies homework (Hours Of My Existence Wasted On Random Knowledge was the best acronym Emma could come up with) and walked down the hallway to go to the girls restroom when she saw Him looking at a showcase of medals. It was The Slytherin Boy! Emma ran and hid behind the corridor's corner so as not to be spotted by The Boy. When he left she moved from her hiding place to see what the showcase contained. Lo and behold a medal read Tom Marvolo Riddle- Services to the school
"Oh my goodness!" Emma whispered to herself "A good mystery solved and a new one started!" Giddy with excitement she rushed to Hufflepuff common room, grabbed a piece of paper and wrote a new case file to add to her case binder
September 19, 1944
The Slytherin Boy now has a name now, Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was written so on the medal in the trophy room and, though assuming is always inappropriate or disagreeable in mysterious and unforeseeable situations but, I must presume that Tom Marvolo Riddle is his name. Until further evidence is given I will refer to him as Tom Riddle or Tom for short.
Emma began to sketch out the suspect (as she usually did) when she realized something was off. Was it the nose? The eyes? The hair? She could not tell but she knew for certain that something was wrong about it. Giving up, she climbed into her bed and went to sleep.
