Disclaimer: The characters and idea of this fan fiction come from the mind of J.K. Rowling
Summary: This is my version of Tom Riddle's life, and his journey to evil.
A/N: Along with a few other minor changes, I changed the date in chapter one—it did say the story began in 1928, but I meant to put 1938. The Malfoy in this story is not intended to be Lucius Malfoy, but his father (that I created), Letifer.
'Thank You's: WhetherRose: I cannot thank you enough for your reviews! They have been so helpful, it's unbelievable (especially with grammar/usage—I don't have the patience to edit my fiction before I post it *sigh*). I enjoy reading your reviews so much—they are very genuine and kind, but extremely helpful at the same time (here's where I plug WhetherRose: Anyone looking for an extremely well written Harry Potter fiction should read 'A Life Passed By!'). I wanted to thank you for telling me about a phrase I wrote in the Lost Year—"too terribly long." That was so silly of me! I've been living in Kansas (and listening to the local jargon) too long! Thank you, thank you, and thank you!
Babyphatcat13: You are my unwavering supporter. I love that! You have no idea how great it feels to read the praise you give me!
T.H: Thank you for your review! I'm glad you like the idea of the story—it has been so much fun to write!
Finally, thank you to: Azalais Malfoy, Sara Minks, Melissa, my dad, my sister (bob the builder), S. Nicolai, and harrypottermagic32 for leaving reviews!
The Tale of Tom Riddle
Chapter 2
Fall-Christmas, 1938
After his meeting with Armando Dippet, Tom had immediately returned to the Slytherin house common room. For nearly an hour, he could be seen positioned before the fireplace, gazing intently at the flames, his visage contorted with the look of longing on his face.
Letifer allowed Tom to sit in silence for an hour before expressing concern to his friend. "Tom?" he ventured warily.
Instantly, Tom appeared to have come out of his trance, for he slowly moved his head and looked at Letifer. However, he refrained from speaking.
"Are you okay, Tom?" Letifer asked after a moment of silence.
Tom nodded his head, and replied, "Yes, at least I think so. I spoke with Professor Dippet today. I asked him about my parents." Following this statement, he looked at his hands guiltily. "You see, I didn't know anything about my parents except that my mother was dead, and my father is alive, but didn't acknowledge me."
Disbelief warped Letifer's face, "Then you lied to me?"
Solemnly, Tom nodded. "I hated to! But I didn't know anything about my family, and you didn't seem like you were too enthusiastic when you thought I might not be a full-blooded wizard. I just hoped that at least part of my story was true."
Letifer relaxed, and innocently inquired, "Ok. So what did Dippet tell you?"
Tom recounted his conversation with the headmaster.
"Your father just left your mother before you were born? That's horrible! If I were you, I'd want closure," Letifer stated blatantly.
Giving him a quizzical stare, Tom asked, "Want closure? What do you mean?"
Letifer rolled his eyes, as though he were explaining the obvious, "Want closure—or revenge. How can you live with yourself knowing that he betrayed you?"
Tom fell silent, and set his head in his hand as he thought about what Letifer had said.
*~*~*
Dear Miss Ethel Merriwyther,
My name is Tom Riddle. I am the son of the late Eloise Evanly. My headmaster (Professor Armando Dippet) recently informed me that you had been acquainted with members of my mother's family. I have lived in the Benevolent Heart Orphanage since I was born, and know little about my family. Professor Dippet suggested I speak with you about my family.
Please write me with any information you can about my mother and her relatives. Anything would be appreciated.
Sincerely,
Tom Marvolo Riddle
"That should work," Tom said, quietly to himself, as he carefully folded his letter and placed it carefully in his robes. Though it was not yet passed curfew, Tom felt he should remain reticent, and not disrupt the solemnity of the nearly empty owlery.
Tom walked towards a large tawny owl that hooted at the sight of Tom. Because Tom had no owl of his own, the few times he had wanted to send a letter, he would have to use one of the school's owls. Careful not to irritate the large owl, Tom attached his letter to her leg.
"Please get this letter to Ethel Merriwyther," he said, offering the owl a bit of bread from dinner.
*~*~*
Tom had barely been able to concentrate on his studies as he anxiously awaited his reply from Ethel Merriwyther. Indeed, he was extremely apprehensive as he wondered whether the tawny owl would be able to find her. Tom had been unable to ask Professor Dippet for her address.
However, after waiting nearly three weeks, Tom saw the familiar tawny owl fly into the Great Hall during breakfast. He leapt to his feet and stretched his arm out for the owl to land on. Once the owl had perched on his arm, Tom removed the letter from her leg (which proved extremely difficult, as he was only using one hand). Offering a bit of ham as thanks, Tom watched the owl fly towards the owlery before turning back to the letter.
After making sure that his peers were immersed in reading their own letters, or talking to one another, Tom opened his letter, and shielded it from view as he read it.
"Dear Tom,
I did, indeed, know your family. However, there are certain memories I hold that should not be repeated in this letter, lest it get intercepted. I understand you need answers, but I'm afraid I won't be able to give you any until we can speak in person. You mentioned in your letter that you have lived in the Benevolent Heart Orphanage—I know the Benevolent Heart Orphanage; during the Christmas holidays, if you go to the orphanage, I will contact you. There is no need for you to reply to this letter, as I will instigate our meeting.
Ethel Merriwyther"
Tom stared, dumbfounded, at the written words. The reply he had been waiting so deeply to read turned out to be nearly useless. But, then, what had he expected—to read a letter and suddenly have every one of his many questions answered? Indeed, it was miraculous that she agreed to tell him anything—she has no real bond with Tom. Nevertheless, he found himself slightly disappointed. Not only would he have to wait more than a month, but he would also have to return to the prison of his childhood. Ever since his head of house had informed the first years that they would have the opportunity to stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays, Tom had been looking forward to spending the fortnight of freedom within the walls of the castle.
"It's a small price to pay, I suppose," Tom said aloud.
"What was that, Tom?" Letifer asked only half-heartedly as he read his copy of The Daily Prophet.
"Oh… nothing," he replied, noting that Letifer had yet to realize that Tom had received a letter. "It's about time to get to Transfiguration, isn't it, Letifer?"
At once, Letifer tossed his newspaper aside, and began to scramble to finish his breakfast. Tom rolled his eyes.
"C'mon, Letifer, we have to go," Tom insisted as he eyed the ever-emptying Great Hall.
Exasperatedly, he answered, "Fine, but if I waste away, it's your fault. Let's go, Max."
Tom let out a sharp laugh, "My fault? I don't think I was the one reading during breakfast—er—reading a newspaper, that is," he added hastily as he remembered his letter.
"Well we could have been a little late," Letifer said sullenly.
"No we couldn't have—you know Dumbledore doesn't exactly favor Slytherins."
"I know, I know. But lunch looks seems so far away when I can't eat all of my breakfast."
Tom and Letifer remained silent until they rounded the corner of the corridor that lead to the Transfiguration classroom.
"What was so interesting that you couldn't stop reading anyway?" Tom finally asked.
Letifer's expression brightened considerably. "You'll never believe what was in the Daily Prophet. Grindelwald's supporters 'Wreaked Havoc' on Muggles throughout Europe! Yesterday, they captured dozens of Muggles and subjected them to all sorts of curses and hexes. Of course, anyone they tell just thinks they're crazy," Letifer laughed heartily.
However, Tom's brow furrowed questioningly as he asked, "Who is Grindelwald?"
Letifer looked at him as though he were an extremely dull-witted child for a moment before answering. Just as they took their seats near the back of the room, he answered, "Grindelwald is the most powerful wizard alive…"
However, he was unable to finish his explanation as Professor Dumbledore walked into the room looking immensely somber. Tom knew something was gravely wrong when the usually strict professor chose not to reprimand a pair of tittering Slytherin girls.
"Class, the headmaster doesn't wish me to disclose this information, but I feel it is important for you all to know the dire circumstances we are facing. Indeed, the Daily Prophet has seen fit to tell all of the wizarding world…"
Tom chanced a glance at Letifer, who could be found smirking, quite visibly. However, the rest of the class was rapt—hanging on the professor's every word.
"The Dark Wizard, Grindelwald, who has been steadily gaining power and support since his brief imprisonment in Azkaban more than a decade ago, has taken his first, massive, aggressive action against Muggles in Germany and her surrounding countries. Dozens of Muggles were captured. Though the British Ministry of Magic doesn't have any definite answers, it is believed that the Muggles were captured with the intention of being tortured. As of today, more than thirty Muggles are unaccounted for, while many, many more are suffering from shock, and are in no fit state to tell Ministry workers what horrors they witnessed. Also, the Memory Charms the Ministry workers tried to place on them out of pity didn't work, for a reason unknown to any of us."
Though most of the students in the room gasped in disbelief, many Slytherins had twisted smiles upon their faces, while all Ravenclaws had sorrowful looks of compassion upon their faces.
Students spent that day in a daze. What little laughter could be heard was quickly stifled, and the hushed voices of the hundreds of students discussing the event in the Great Hall sounded like the buzzing of bees.
Tom was one of the few people in the school left, for the most part, unaffected by the alleged tragedy. Somehow, he couldn't muster pity for the Muggles. After all, it was because of Muggles that he had spent his entire childhood in an orphanage. It was because of his Muggle father that Tom's mother had died alone. What did he owe to Muggles?
Rather than pity, Tom shared the feelings of many other Slytherins. Tom was in awe that a single wizard could have organized such an effective action against Muggles. True, he conceded, the deed couldn't have been done without the help and cooperation of others, but, nevertheless, it was an awesome feat.
After his weeks at Hogwarts, Tom was finally beginning to appreciate the disdain his fellow Slytherins reserved for Muggles.
*~*~*
Following Schmerznacht, as the incident became known, both students and faculty were noticeably subdued. The Slytherins, on the other hand, had become positively boisterous.
For nearly a week after Schmerznacht the air in the Slytherin common room was electric with excitement.
"My parents nearly sent me to Durmstrang—you know, the prestigious German school of Witchcraft and Wizardry," an elated fourth year named Genevieve Newton exclaimed. "Mum wrote in her last letter that the headmaster of Durmstrang began a course on Dark Magic on the order of Grindelwald. Can you believe it? I could have been learning dark magic—none of this defense rubbish."
Genevieve's talk of Durmstrang launched the common room into a wistful discussion about the possibility of transferring to Durmstrang.
"My father went to Durmstrang," Letifer spoke up proudly, looking out at the now-silent Slytherins. "In fact, my whole family, before me, did. My parents moved to London before I was born, though, and father and mother insisted I come here, even though I also got a letter of acceptance from Durmstrang. Since I can remember, I've been positively begging them to move back to Germany, but father, for some reason, insisted that he work in the British Ministry of Magic."
Tom, knowing nothing of Durmstrang, refrained from participating in the conversation, instead choosing to absorb any information of the German school he could.
*~*~*
As was inevitable, the cool days of autumn quickly turned to the frosty days of winter. Christmas drew nearer, and the students of Hogwarts began to talk excitedly about the upcoming holidays. Tom felt torn. On one hand, he would finally learn the truth about his family. However, he would also have to return to the orphanage that had been holding him captive since his infancy.
Tom sat sitting in the Slytherin common room surrounded by a large group of his peers, amiably discussing their Christmas plans.
"What are your plans for Christmas, Tom?" Asked a petite-looking second year named Calista LaVie; who had been quite taken with Tom since his arrival at Hogwarts.
Tom flashed her a winning smile, which made Calista blush, before answering sarcastically, "I'm going home."
She gave him a questioning look, and opened her mouth to ask a second question, but was cut off by a tall, older girl Tom didn't know.
"Where do you live?" the tall girl asked.
Immediately, Tom's features darkened, and he bit his lip, as though debating whether he wanted to reveal such a thing about his past. Eventually, his conscience won out, for he answered in a whisper, "An orphanage."
Several of the students who had been hanging on Tom's every word suddenly gaped at each other.
"Pardon?" The tall girl implored.
"The Benevolent Heart Orphanage," Tom answered louder, but with shame in his voice.
Tom had never felt the need to volunteer this information with many people (of course, both Letifer and Max knew). The group of students surrounding him uncomfortably muttered their apologies. This is exactly why I don't tell people these things, Tom thought, rolling his eyes. He forced a gallant smile and said, "Don't worry—it's really not so bad…" and continued chatting, easily sidestepping any further questions of his past.
*~*~*
"Professor Bane?" Tom asked upon seeing the pallid teacher sitting in his office in the dungeons.
"Ah, my favorite student," Professor Bane replied silkily. Professor Bane was the Potions master at Hogwarts, and was the current Slytherin head of house. Students in houses other than Slytherin found Professor Bane to look sinister. Indeed, his carefully slicked-back gray hair, precisely curled goatee, and attire of black robes did seem out of place when compared to the other professors, but Tom never found him to look remotely menacing. Then, Tom had a way with teachers. Despite the fact that Professor Bane tended to favor Slytherins, Tom was easily his favorite—winning Slytherin more house points than his fellow first years combined.
"Er—I am going back—er—home over the Christmas holidays…"
"Indeed?" Professor Bane said, looking at a piece of parchment. "You told me early in October that you wanted to stay at Hogwarts."
"Yes, that's one reason I'm here. As it turns out, I have to go home. I'm not sure what day I will need to meet the Hogwarts Express to come back."
The corners of Professor Bane's mouth arched to form a thin-lipped smile as he answered; "The train will leave King's Cross Station at eleven in the morning on January the third."
"Thank you, Professor," Tom said, turning to leave. However, he stopped short and turned to face the professor one last time, and asked hopefully, "There isn't, by any chance, a train that comes back to Hogwarts before the third, is there?"
Professor Bane smiled sympathetically, "I'm afraid not, Tom."
Tom nodded as though accepting some unpleasant, irrevocable prognostication before turning to leave the dank dungeons.
*~*~*
It was with a heavy heart that Tom left the enormous castle behind as the scarlet train steadily gained speed. Though he had been sharing a compartment with Letifer and Max, Tom had been allowed a certain amount of solitude. Letifer had sensed Tom's sullen mood, and was quietly discussing Quidditch with Max.
After hours of lounging on the sleepy, gently swaying train, Tom felt the train begin to shudder as it slowed to a halt. Once the train had stopped at platform 9 ¾, Tom gathered his small trunk of clothes and homework he had brought with him from Hogwarts and set out to find Gwendolyn.
She, however, found him first.
"Tom!" He heard, and couldn't help but smile. "Oh, Tom, dear, I've missed you so much!" Gwendolyn said, sweeping Tom up in a tight hug. Gwendolyn continued to chat happily as she led Tom through the swirling snow towards the London underground.
After their ten-minute ride on the subway, Gwendolyn finished her review of the past months at the orphanage, and asked, "So, Tom, how was Hogwarts? Is it everything you wished it would be?"
Though he had been listening somewhat-absently to Gwendolyn's news, he at once collected his thoughts to tell her about Hogwarts.
"It's wonderful, Gwendolyn! After studying and practicing all summer, I was the top of my class. Most of the teachers adore me, and refer me to tutor less-prepared students… but, recently…" He drifted off.
"What is it? What happened?" Gwendolyn implored anxiously.
Tom glanced about him, as though apprehensive he would be overheard. "Things have just added up—little things I'm beginning to discover—and my grades have begun to slip… I… I'm supposed to meet someone over the holidays to find out about my parents." When he finished, Tom chanced an uneasy look at Gwendolyn, who had averted her eyes, and was looking towards the distance while biting her bottom lip.
Quickly, however, Gwendolyn seemed to sense that Tom was looking at her, and forced, unsuccessfully, a smile to her face.
"Yes, well, no one should be forced to go through his life without knowing about his family," she said cheerily, despite the pained look on her face.
The remainder of their walk to the orphanage passed in awkward silence.
*~*~*
"Happy Christmas, Tom!" Gwendolyn said, rousing Tom from his fitful slumber.
Tom blinked in return as he tried to adjust to the blinding light seeming to radiate from the snow-covered street below. Then, regaining his bearings, he smiled genuinely at the woman smiling to him, and answered, "Happy Christmas! Er—did I receive a letter or anything?"
Gwendolyn's gaze shifted uneasily, but she replied, "I'm afraid you didn't receive a letter, dear, but there is a large package for you beneath the Christmas tree in the dining room. Why don't we go eat breakfast?"
Desperately, Tom wished to open his gift, but decided he shouldn't deny Gwendolyn's request, so he nodded, and walked side-by-side with Gwendolyn to the lengthy table heaped with delicious foods for the twenty orphans to eat. Suddenly, Tom recalled the annual Christmas feast, and was pleased he had chosen to eat before opening his parcel.
Tom sat betwixt two redheaded orphans (siblings, he presumed) he didn't know, and waited as patiently as possible for the few late-risers to join their fellows for breakfast. While they waited, the boy sitting on his right attempted to engage Tom in conversation.
"Are you new here?" He asked.
"No, I'm something of an old hand—been here since I was a baby," Tom answered.
"Oh. My sister and I," he motioned to the girl on Tom's left, "Have been here for a couple of months now…" He stopped and sadly looked at his hands, but quickly continued, "By the way, I'm Roger O'Mearley, and that's Victoria."
Tom smiled kindly at the girl, who, upon closer inspection, was weeping silently. Tom looked away guiltily, as though he had witnessed something he shouldn't have; he had always felt this way when he saw new orphans arrive at the orphanage.
"I'm Tom. Tom Riddle."
"Nice to meet you," they exchanged.
Moments later, the remaining children trickled into the dining room, and they were allowed to eat the feast sitting before them.
"So, whe'e 'ave you 'een?" Roger asked around a mouthful of ham.
"Pardon?" Tom asked.
Roger swallowed before repeating himself, "Well, you said you've been here since you were a baby. I've been here for two and half months, and I've never seen you… so where've you been all this time?"
Tom hesitated for the briefest of moments before answering, "At my school. I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—" He stopped abruptly when he saw the look of disgust on Roger's face.
Roger finally regained his composure after a few deep breaths, and asked, "Did you say what I thought you said?"
After concluding it would be futile to deny his explanation, he nodded his head.
Roger cast one last repugnant glance at Tom before engrossing himself in his food—ignoring Tom for the nearly forty minutes of Christmas breakfast. Tom cursed himself and his loose tongue. Never before had he disclosed such information of himself to a stranger. He had once prevented a vase shattering as it fell from the mantle on the fireplace in the boys' bedroom (before he knew he was a wizard), but hadn't even told Gwendolyn. Poking at the food on his plate, Tom asked himself why he had spoken so openly to Roger. "Because I thought he might accept me," he muttered quietly.
Despite the fact that Tom was anxious to leave the company of his fellows, he was disgruntled to see that Roger quickly pulled his young sister aside, and began whispering in her ear, occasionally glancing at Tom. However, Tom had already decided to forget the incident had ever happened, and was anxious to finally open his gift. He walked assuredly to the twinkling Christmas tree, and searched through the few parcels for the one meant for him. The tag read: 'To: Tom Riddle From: E.W.'
" 'E.W.?'" Tom whispered to himself. "Who is that…" Comprehension suddenly dawned on him, and he began to eagerly rip the paper from the package. What he saw nearly made him drop the box in surprise. After being assured he wouldn't scream, he gently set the box on the hardwood floor, and tried not to disturb the creature that lay coiled in the small cardboard box.
"A snake? Why would anyone—she—give me a snake?" He exclaimed. He then grasped a small piece of folded parchment he saw in the corner of the box. Because it happened to be in a corner opposite the inert snake, Tom was able to grab it without fainting. In elegant script, he read the note.
"Dear Tom,
I'm most upset that we haven't been able to meet yet, but I felt this would be the best way to establish contact. Meet me on the street corner north of the orphanage after dinner tonight. I will be dressed in an emerald cloak. Bring your gift.
Sincerely,
Ethel Merriwyther"
Tom glanced uncertainly at the snake lying twisted in the box before noticing the 'P.S,' which, as if the Ethel Merriwyther knew what Tom would be thinking, read:
"P.S. You needn't worry about the snake—it is in a bewitched sleep, and will remain in such a state until you bring her to me."
The remainder of the day passed, in Tom's opinion, sluggishly, as it always does when one is anxiously awaiting something of great importance. However (after what seemed to be three weeks), Tom found himself finishing his dinner, and bundling up to counter the frigid December air. The next moment, he was rounding the corner of the orphanage; scanning the crowd for a woman wearing and emerald cloak. Within seconds of his arrival, he felt a hand grasp his shoulder, and heard a familiar voice whisper kindly, "Hello, Tom."
Tom whirled around to gaze into the face of the woman he had known so long, and exclaimed, "Gwendolyn!"
To be continued…
Second A/N: For future reference, I'm making the Dark wizard, Grindelwald, something like the wizarding counterpart of Adolf Hitler; think oppression, a cause of extreme fear/distrust, and the prompting for many wizards of different beliefs to bond together. The time frame seemed to coincide with the years of Hitler's tyranny (using the information from Albus Dumbledore's wizard card—which says Dumbledore defeated the wizard in 1945). My history teacher last year made the subject absolutely fascinating—I found learning about the subject (particularly the complexities of World War II) enthralling. This is the main reason I am making Grindelwald an issue at all. The instance in this chapter is, in fact, loosely based on Kristallnacht—the night of broken glass.
Third A/N: (This is the last one, I promise!) I am extremely sorry for the cliffhanger, but due to circumstances (I was supporting a local band at a battle of the bands, and am now tired L), I couldn't complete the meeting with Ethel Merriwyther, as I had planned. But, after such a long chapter, surely you are all tired of reading, right? Oh say 'yes' so I don't go on some horrible guilt trip!