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: In case you've forgotten what happened in the last chapter(s), Tom is an orphan who is currently seeking to learn more about his parents, and past in general. He was going to meet with Ethel Merriwyther, but was found by Gwendolyn on the street corner.
The Tale of Tom Riddle
Chapter Three
Christmas-Summer, 1938-1939
"Gwendolyn!" Tom exclaimed. "I—I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going… but I just had to come out here to talk to someone," he stuttered lamely.
Much to Tom's surprise, Gwendolyn merely smiled. "Let me guess, were you to meet a certain Ethel Merriwyther?"
Stupefied, Tom merely nodded his head.
"Tom, dear, there's something I've never told you; my full name is Ethel Gwendolyn Merriwyther, I'm a twelfth-generation witch, and I adored your mother. Since I've been working at the orphanage, I've been using the name Gwendolyn. I have my reasons to not want to be known," she looked away somewhat guiltily.
Tom finally began to absorb the information, and he asked softly, "So you sent me the Christmas present…"
"Yes. I felt it would be a good way to discover if you… Well, I thought it would be a good present. Did you bring her with you—? Ah, good. Before I go into great detail about your family, let me describe this ancient gift I have bestowed upon you. The ancient Amaranthine Serpent has powers far greater than an ordinary snake, and powers only surpassed by the fearsome Basilisk. Amaranthine Serpents are extremely intelligent, and have a venom that can cause instantaneous death, or revitalize a nearly-lifeless person—depending on whether the person knows how to correctly harvest it."
Tom felt a fierce sense of pride as he looked thoughtfully upon such a powerful creature.
"This particular Serpent," Gwendolyn continued, "Is particularly powerful. You may not yet know this, but your mother's family has produced witches and wizards of extraordinary power, and these Amaranthine Serpents are no different. Your mother owned her own Amaranthine Serpent, and the Serpent you hold in your hands happens to have been borne of your mother's own Serpent."
"How is that possible?" Tom inquired. "How is it possible that such a tiny snake be the offspring of my mother's? Do you have hers? Is it still alive?"
Gwendolyn smiled, though her eyes were filled with sorrow. "I'm afraid not, Tom. Despite the fact that the life spans of Amaranthine Serpents can surpass that of a wizard, they are extremely faithful. Just as humans do, the Serpents grieve the death of their caregivers; sometimes to the point of forfeiting their life to the anguish they feel. Your mother's snake, Gentle Maiden, was no different. As it happened, Gentle Maiden laid the egg of your Serpent the day before she finally wasted away. Perhaps she knew that had to hold on a bit longer…" she trailed off. Cheeks glistening with tears as she remembered the events of that fateful year, she continued, "After three years encompassed in the turquoise shell, your snake finally burst through, and, for the past seven years, the Serpent has been growing until I felt I could trust you with her safekeeping."
As he gazed at the glittering hide of the snake before him, Tom suddenly said, "Nagini."
"What's that, dear?"
"I'm going to call her Nagini," he said, raising his eyes to meet Gwendolyn's.
Raising a brow, Gwendolyn observed, "That's an interesting choice of a name. Where did you hear it?"
Brow furrowed, Tom looked intently at the snake. He paused, and lifted his eyes, with some difficulty, to once again meet Gwendolyn's piercing eyes, "I don't know," he whispered. "It was almost as though… never mind. That's ridiculous."
"What is it, Tom?" The woman pressed.
"I thought she spoke to me!"
Triumph gleamed in Gwendolyn's eyes.
"But I can't speak Parseltongue!" Tom exclaimed, seeming to plead Gwendolyn to affirm his statement.
"My dear, there's no other explanation. Perhaps no one has told you but you are directly descended from – "
Tom cut her off. His voice barely audible, Tom whispered, "Salazar Slytherin."
" – Who was most noted as being possessing the ability to speak Parseltongue," Gwendolyn said, giving Tom her familiar, fond look. "Tom, everyone witch and wizard on your mother's side has had this ability. You don't know what a blessing it is! However, your connection with Nagini, here, goes much deeper than merely your understanding of her language. She is in a bewitched sleep. You connected telepathically. I had feared you may not have the ability because of your father."
Tom snorted disdainfully. "Of course, it would make sense that he'd ruin it for me…"
Worry now creased Gwendolyn's face, as she cocked her head to examine Tom further. "But he didn't, Tom." Upon realizing her fears, she uttered, "You've changed… All these years, I knew it would happen, but I willed myself not to believe it could… but you've inherited the vengeful spirit common among your ancestors." To Tom's bewilderment, she began to weep, her sobs causing her frame to quake. "No matter how I tried to change it!" she began to mutter incoherently as the sob took control of her voice.
His anger subsiding, Tom immediately moved closer to Gwendolyn to offer comfort.
"I haven't changed, Gwendolyn! Honest – I just notice not… not having a family closer to Christmas…" he lied.
Despite the fact that his words seemed to offer little consolation, Gwendolyn seemed to have recovered slightly from her abrupt change in emotions. Giving Tom a wary smile, she said, "I do hope you're right… but I have my reasons to doubt the future."
Suddenly, and unjustly, Tom became impatient and irritated with the woman he was cradling in his arms. He quickly backed away in horror as he realized what he was feeling.
Pretending not to notice the look of dismay on Tom's face, Gwendolyn motioned toward the orphanage. "We should be getting back, I suppose. Oh, I forgot to awaken Nagini," she said listlessly. After uttering a few words Tom didn't understand, the snake suddenly sprang to life. "Goodnight, Tom," she bid him adieu as she left Tom staring incredulously into the box containing the sparkling serpent, Nagini on the darkened street corner in the swirling snow.
*~*~*
Tom lay drenched in sweat. Desperately he tried to decipher the markings on the walls. They could be his only clue as to how to get out of this maze. Suddenly, he found he couldn't breathe. He felt as though the walls were encompassing him from six sides, gradually causing his air supply to deplete. Clenching his eyes shut in the face of death, Tom gripped the clammy stonewalls, and slid roughly to the floor.
Barely audible, there came the voice of a woman. Tom was unable to discern her words, but the mere sound of her voice was comforting. Warily, he opened his eyes to see an un-obstructed passageway before him yet again. Her lilting voice sifted through the dank air, encouraging Tom to come closer. The air became fresher. Her voice became clearer. Most dismayingly, the woman's voice became increasingly pained as Tom drew nearer. He listened to her groan in agony. Desperately, Tom began to search for the woman who was obviously injured.
Surprisingly, just as Tom approached the pulsing light at the end of the tunnel, he heard the voice of a second woman. Between her sobs, Tom could just make out her quiet prayers:
"Please! You're going to make it!" she whispered frantically.
Tom peered through an archway, and caught a glimpse of two women, however, one woman – who was lying down, and sounded like she had been hurt somehow – was partially obscured by a woman kneeling protectively over the first woman.
Opening his mouth to speak, Tom found he was mute. Not a single word came out of his mouth, so he crossed the threshold of the brightly lit, oval-shaped room. The moment he stepped beneath the archway, however, the woman emitted a misery-filled moan that resonated off the walls. Within a split second, however, the groan was replaced by an exhausted, if not relived, sigh. Next, the sound of a baby's wail surrounded Tom. The room began to spin, and the figures Tom had been watching silently began to waver. As the scene before him unraveled, he heard a pained whisper, "I will call him Tom. Tom Marvolo… Riddle…" The last word was said with such joy, but with the effort of one who knows one's worldly time is nearly at an end, that Tom felt warm tears running down his face. He began falling. Falling into an oblivion, hearing only the voice of his dying mother…
Tom awoke with a start. He sat up, and gave his room a frightened look. Upon realizing he was safely nestled in his bed at the Benevolent Heart Orphanage, the tension in Tom's body lessened slightly.
"It was only a dream," he consoled himself as he threw his legs over the edge of his bed to walk shakily to the kitchen for a glass of water. Throughout his trip to the kitchen, a thought plagued Tom; had he actually seen his mother's horrific death?
The rustle of feet on hardwood floors brought Tom's attention abruptly back to the kitchen and the orphanage.
"Hello, Gwendolyn," Tom said gruffly.
With extreme kindness, she returned, "Troubled dreams?"
Astonished, and bewildered, Tom furrowed his brow in thought, "Yes – how did you know?"
She smiled serenely and countered Tom's question with, "What happened?"
Tom wrapped up the series of questions when he bluntly asked, "How did my mother die?"
Gwendolyn squeezed her eyes shut, and murmured poignantly, "Eloise…" Tom could see that she was being tormented by memories Tom felt he understood. After a moment, Gwendolyn regained her composure. "She – she died just after giving birth to you… she had terrible complications. And no one would help her," she finished miserably.
"What do you mean, 'no one would help her?'"
"Your… father," she spat, trying, unsuccessfully to strangle the anger from her voice, "Spread the word that your mother was a witch. When she went into labor, no hospital would accept her. You have to understand – we had no money. We pleaded with the staff of every hospital for miles to help her, but they either knew about her heritage, or could tell we had no money."
A stunned silence enveloped the duo before Tom spoke timidly, "Where was I born?"
Gwendolyn shifted guiltily as she answered, "A sanctuary for our kind… below the streets of London…"
The pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place. Tom had witnessed his birth and his mother's death at the same moment.
"Her last words," Gwendolyn continued, but was cut off by Tom.
"Were my names?"
Shaking her head, Gwendolyn answered the question negatively. "No. She said, 'the emblem emblazons the entry.' For years I've tried to understand the statement. In my dreams I see the look of intensity on her face but," her eyes welled with tears, and she completely broke down; "I don't even know what my best friend's last words mean!"
*~*~*
Tom left the orphanage feeling considerably less fulfilled than he had hoped his meeting with Gwendolyn would make him feel. For Tom, the train-ride to Hogwarts passed in a blur of fantastic scenery, and the faraway banter of his fellows.
The moment Tom's feet graced the earth again; he sprinted to the Slytherin dungeons to his bed. From beneath the mattress, he extracted a green, leather-bound volume, and began to flip madly through the familiar pages before coming to a halt on a page theorizing the location of the Chamber of Secrets. Staring him in the face was a small picture he had neglected previously – dismissing it merely as a symbol of his house, and the founder's legacy. A minute snake lay twisted around gothic symbols meaningless to Tom. He read the passage:
'It has been theorized that the Chamber lies beneath the school, however, the exact entry is unknown. Once, the obvious thought had been thought that the entry could be found beneath the Slytherin common room—'
Tom looked hopefully towards the heavy door that stood between him and his destiny, then turned back to the yellowed pages of his book.
'—However, extensive searches have found this idea to be false.'
In rage, Tom threw the book across the room, where it knocked over a box containing Letifer's quills and rolls of parchment. Uttering an expletive, Tom strode to the mess he had created. After carefully rolling Letifer's assignments back up, and placing them alongside his quills, Tom wedged his green book beneath his arm, and walked back over to his bed. Sighing, Tom sat roughly on his bed, and once again opened his book. This time, however, he was surprised to see a large piece of parchment flutter to the floor. Curiosity got the better of him, and Tom bent to pick the piece of parchment off the ground, expecting to see a flamboyant love letter. However, he stared bemusedly at the neat script, and realized, at once that he was not looking upon a letter. In the upper right-hand corner, a simple phrase was printed clearly:
Eloise Evanly
To be continued…
Second A/N: I'm very sorry that this was such a short chapter, but I really had no time to write this week (in fact, part of this chapter were usually written late at night…). I hope you chose to take pity on me, and will excuse my embarrassingly short chapter… Oh, and I don't think there's really anything I need to explain here (unless – everyone understood that Gwendolyn was Ethel Merriwyther, right? Yes, that's what I thought. By the way, was there anyone who felt I should have drawn that meeting out a little further? That was one dilemma with which I was faced throughout the writing of this chapter). Until next time!
'Thank You' To:
WhetherRose: I want to thank you again (and I'm so happy you're back to reviewing! I really have felt such compassion for you – feeling overwhelmed is not fun at ALL!). I absolutely love your reviews – you never fail to bring a smile to my face (even if you are feeling lousy). Really, as, I've said time, and time before, you're reviews are some of the most insightful I've read, and I adore you for it! Oh, and don't worry about leaving long reviews – I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say those are the most fun to read. They're much better than, say, 'Wow. Keep writing.' Of course, the downside is that they *do* detain me from writing (just kidding – I always, always enjoy reading long reviews ;) )
Serina: I wanted to thank you, not only for the reviews, but for introducing me to your story. As I've said before, I love Tom Riddle fics, and I love yours (even though I haven't had a chance to finish it *blushes*). Also, thanks for pointing out that Saruman doesn't appear in the Hobbit. I had really wished he would. How distressing. Oh well, because I am too lazy to think of another clever allusion, I'm going to pretend he does appear in it, just so it will suit my needs!
T.H: Ah! You finally found out why in the world Gwendolyn appeared on the street corner! I do hope you don't hate me for not being able to read anymore chapters (honestly, I love the story, but my life the past couple of weeks has been frustratingly hectic!). I solemnly swear to read it as soon as possible :)
Babyphatcat13 and Mard: I'm so glad you two like this story (and not just Harry's Revenge :) ). *Sighs contentedly* Ah, my loyal supporters. Where would I be without you?
Also, Thanks to: My sister (Bonita Knows All/Bob the Builder), harrypottermagic32, S. Nicolai, My dad, Melissa, Sara Minks, and Azalais Malfoy for leaving kind reviews!