Tres Tria

By Fire&Ice

(1/?)

Email: Fire_and_ice_15@hotmail.com

Genre: General—a bit of everything, really!

Key Words: Tom Riddle; Three; Keep Reading

Rating: PG for later chapters (?)

Spoilers: All Four Books

Summary: Everyone thinks they know the story of young Lord Voldemort. But maybe he didn't always have a lump of ice for a heart… things change. Maybe he had to change. Maybe he was pushed. One event can shape the world's future. And this is where it all began…

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Promise.

Author's Note: Hi! This is our first co-written fic, and so we hope you like it! We are better known as Ginny J and Ravenclaw's Pride. If you want to AIM Ginny J, you can talk to her at Trillion86… I have *no idea* weather Ravenclaw's Pride wants me to put down her AOL IM name, so I won't. For anyone who cares, Ravenclaw's Pride is a teenage American girl with a lot of spare time, and Ginny J is, likewise, a teenage "London gel" (innit) with an equal amount of spare time. Happy days. No… please read our fic and, if you have a spare moment, leave a review?

~*~


          Not everything is what it appears to be. Just because you may think you know something doesn't mean you do. Ahh, thinking and knowing for sure are two very different things, my friend.

          There is no such thing as a starting point. There is no such thing as an ending. This is neither the start, nor the end of anything, but merely a chain of events... there will always be a case of Keep Reading... Keep Reading... Keep Reading...

          History has an order of sorts. Event A, followed by Event B... followed by Event F. There are so many stories in the world that don't get told. Mistakes get made. Some of those are on purpose. One such 'accident' could change the world forever.

          Inanimate objects can't decide on the world's future... can they?

Keep Reading...

Keep Reading...

Keep Reading...


~*~


          Tom Riddle was a funny little boy. Small, skinny as a rake, with dark hair like a halo in negative and large eyes, deep and greeny-blue, that stared innocently out at everyone. He looked lost. In fact, there was a perfectly good reason for this, being that he indeed was.

          Kings Cross Station. Well. It wasn't what he'd hoped for. Tom was already beginning to dislike it. He'd never been there before, but quarter an hour was long enough for him to discover that it was large, with hopelessly confusing subways winding in every direction, abuzz with noise, as lively as a piece of cheese on a hot day. Where on Earth was he supposed to go?!

          Was he even supposed to be there? Suppose it was all a bad joke... a prank, played by one of the other orphans in the Home where he lived? He couldn't really be a wizard, could he?

          But then he reminded himself of the photograph in his pocket. That photograph of the tall, dark lady, with a soft, beautiful face and long, glossy black curls, dressed in flowing emerald green robes. She couldn't have been any old than eighteen years old in the photograph.

 His mother. Nothing so astounding, you might think, until you realize that this photograph moved. Every so often she would shift slightly from her position with her hands folded solemnly in front of her, to smile ever so slightly and give a little wave, before returning her hands to her lap and her expression to the bored look that Tom supposed she was stuck with.

          What else could that be but magic?

          No, this had to be real. It had to be. Not even those pillocks back at the orphanage could fake a ticket for platform 9 and 3/4s, or train an owl to drop a letter on his bed. Definitely not. None of them even had neat enough handwriting to have written it, either. Most of them were stupid. They certainly couldn't create a whole new secret street in London, full of magic objects and strange new things he never seen before. No possible way.

          All the same! Platform 9 and 3/4s! Right now, he couldn't even find a platform 9! He shifted the cage that held his owl, Gobnet, so that it was now in his left hand, as it had been rubbing a sore on his right. A few passing people gave him an odd look. Tom gave them a strangled grin in reply, and decided to start moving again.

          So, if that lead to the Victoria Line Eastbound, it couldn't possibly be there because that was a tube station, well then, it must be this way, but it could also be that way, because that was above ground, and lead to the Piccadilly Line, and-- argh!

          "You all right, sir?" it was a station guard.

          "Um," Tom thought about this, "I'm, er, I'm looking for platform nine and-- I mean, platform nine."

          "No problem, sir. Up the stairs, along the passageway to the left until you get to the main station again, and it's just there in front of you, a bit to the right."

          "Thank you."

          The guard gave him a friendly smile. "Cheers."

~*~

          At least, when Tom finally found the main overground station, it was marginally better than the underground one. People weren't rushing around as much. There was a board with train times on it, decorating one wall, with a clock next to it. Ten to eleven. That left him ten minutes to find somewhere that couldn't logically exist. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

          It was when there was only five minutes left, and Tom was seriously beginning to panic, that something caught his eye. A slim built boy and a girl with golden curls were leaning against the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Or at least... they had been.

          Tom blinked his eyes, trying to clear his vision. Surely he hadn't seen what he'd just seen. Where had they gone?

          The voice of reason sounded in his head. "Hello, Tom, are you quite awake? Look! It's the barrier between nine and ten! Surely they can't have been going to Platform 9 3/4? You might not be a whizz at maths, but surely you can work this one out yourself! 9 and 3/4 is between 9 and 10, isn't it?! Just try going through it. Magic exists, you know." The voice sounded as if it knew what it was talking about. What had he got to lose by listening?

          Thinking himself completely stupid, he walked up to the barrier and prodded it with his finger. It seemed solid enough.

          "Just go through it, Tom," the voice sounded thoroughly annoyed, as if it couldn't believe its authority as 'The Voice of Reason' was being questioned.

          Grasping Gobnet's cage and squeezing his eyes shut, he ran the few short steps to the barrier. Although he was fully expecting to smash headlong into the barrier, he was still just slightly surprised when he actually did.

          "Oww!" Tom let out a few expletives that boys his age normally wouldn't have known, causing some people to cast disapproving glares at him.

          "Oh, don't you know how to get through the gate? Muggle-born, are you?" a young girl, presumably a witch, questioned, eyeing Tom's owl.

          "No, my mother was a witch!" Tom jumped up and spat defensively.

          "Calm down, no insult intended! I'm half and half myself, mate, so don't get your knickers in a twist," the girl, who looked about his age, laughed. Tom noticed that she was a bit on the pudgy side, and rather short, with mousy brown hair in a similar style to a dandelion-clock. Her boot-laces trailed along the ground, and her voice had a Cockney twist to it, "Just the way that you ran smack-faced into the barrier made me wonder. Where's your mum anyway? Didn't she tell you how to get through?"

          "She's dead," Tom mumbled, looking at his feet, wondering what a witch girl would make of this. From what he could work out, blood and relations were very important in wizarding circles.

          The girl's tone softened and the foolish smile faded from her face. "Oh... I'm sorry about that," she whispered.

          Gaining back some of his pride, Tom quickly said, "It's okay; you didn't know. I'm Tom Riddle, by the way."

          "I'm Connie, me," the girl said, a grin returning to her face. "And, Tom, to get to Platform 9 'n' 3/4s, you need to believe that you can go through the barrier. All there is to it. You just can't doubt yourself. So go ahead, try it again."

          Standing up and brushing himself off, Tom again picked up Gobnet, who was quite ruffled after being dropped. He eyed the barrier suspiciously.

          Connie laughed. "Fine, here, I'll go first. You can watch and follow, but do hurry up, or else we'll miss the train, and then we'll be in serious trouble." Tom noticed how she could say a long sentence with barely a pause for breath. Seeing his nervous glance at her, Connie beamed back at him, picking up a box, which meowed loudly in annoyance at being moved.

          "Oh, shush, you," Connie scolded the box, turning back to Tom, "Flippin' cats, I wanted a toad, but me parents wouldn't have anything to do wiv'un. You know what mothers are..." she appeared to think about this for a moment, "Well, actually I suppose not. Sorry, slip of the tongue..."

          "It's all right," Tom reassured her.

          "Cheers," another grin, "Cheero for now." She saluted Tom in a very comical manner before stepping through the barrier.

          Tom wandered to the spot Connie had left vacant. Would it work for him if he did it right this time? Suppose it didn't, and he had to return to the orphanage?

          Holding his breath, he chanted to himself "I can make it, I can make it." Still chanting, he sprinted forward. One...two...three...four steps? He hadn't made it to four last time. Maybe he'd just taken shorter steps. Maybe.

          Tom opened his eyes and was halfway amazed that he wasn't King's Cross Station anymore. At least, he wasn't in the same King's Cross Station he'd been in a second ago.

          Everywhere were people dressed in the robes he had in his suitcase. There were parents hugging children and crying how they couldn't believe that their babies were so grown up and going to school, while their kids were desperately trying to squeeze out of their grasps, so as not to be embarrassed in front of their classmates.

          Tom was drowned in a moment of unbelievably heavy sadness. He pulled out the picture of the beautiful, young, raven-tressed lady who was his mother. Why couldn't she be here? Why wasn't she here to cry over how big her little boy was getting?

          It wasn't fair. Why did she have to die giving birth to him? For a moment he hated her, and was about to rip the sepia tinted paper into tiny pieces, when the picture did something it had never done before. His mother stood up from the stone bench. Tom could see the tears streaming silently down her face. In an instant she was back on the bench, in the same position, with the same bored look on her face, leading Tom to wonder if it had really happened at all.

          "Hi! Tom!" Connie yelled over the noise of the station. She ran up to Tom before he could shove the picture back into his pocket. "What's that?" she asked.

          "It's a picture of my mother," Tom answered quietly.

          "Oh..." Connie paused. "Can it see it?"

          Tom paused, and then handed over the picture. As Connie looked at the picture, her eyes lit up. "Oh, Tom, she was beautiful. What was her name?"

          "I don't know. The orphanage never asked her. She died a few minutes after I was born."

          "Oh..." Connie paused again, "Well, we can find out when we get to Hogwarts. My dad, he's the wizard of the family, right, he got a photo like this when he left. Of him, I mean. It's your mum's graduation picture, I reckon. She must've been in Slytherin, since her robes are green." She handed the picture back to Tom, who carefully tucked it back into the pocket of his shorts.

          "C'mon Tom, let's go, we need to get on the train now."

          "All right!" Tom tried to not let his excitement show too much. He wasn't sure which he was more excited about, leaving his horrible life at the orphanage or finding out more about his mother. He decided it was equal.

          This school was going to change his life forever. He could feel it!

          Tom and Connie wandered through the train, searching for an empty compartment, with varying degrees of success.

          Eventually, they came across an almost empty one, which contained only one person; a boy of about the same age as the two new students.

          Tom had poked his head round the door, and was about to inquire about whether the seats had been saved for anyone, but was beaten to it by Connie, who walked in purposefully, and plonked herself down in a window seat.

          "Wotcha," she nodded to the boy, before calling back to Tom, who gave her a look, slightly dismayed at her impoliteness. At the Orphanage, they had been taught manners with what was practically a rod of iron.

          "Sorry," Tom apologized, seating himself opposite Connie. The boy gave him a nervous smile, and returned to staring into space.

          "I'm going to let Fluffykins out for a run," the girl announced after a moments' silence, reaching for the cat-basket, and hauling it up onto her knee, "He's getting all ratty, cooped up. Back at home, he wasn't kept in one bitty space the whole time," she cooed into the basket, "Were you, you ickle monster? 'Ooza horrible iccle animal? Is you? Yes you is!"

          Tom nodded and opened his mouth to tell Connie about how Gobnet was not allowed out at the Orphanage, when the other boy piped up.

          "Please, don't let that cat out!" The boy looked extremely anxious, as if he expected them to hit him. He was thin and earnest, presumably tall when standing, and had sandy hair that might have been curly if it had been allowed to grow any longer. His voice had an upper-class note to it, without being obnoxious. If this boy had not been alone in the carriage, Tom felt sure, he would never have noticed him at all.

          Connie raised her eyebrows, "Why not? There ain't nothing wrong with him, if that's what you--"

          "No, no... I just... I'm allergic to cats, you see," he shrugged miserably, "Sorry."

          "No probs, mate." Connie shrugged it off, "Looks like you're going to have to wait 'til we stop, ain'cha, ratbag?" she added to the animal.

          "Why? What Familiar have you got?" Tom quizzed him.

          "A toad."

          "Well, they're brill."

          "Smashing!"

          "Exactly."

          The boy nodded solemnly, but the corners of his mouth turned up a little, "Thank you."

          "What's your name?" Tom asked, curiously.

          "Louis Clive Gilbert."

          "Tom Riddle."

          "Constance May Johnson," Connie imitated Louis' accent and manner, "Much obliged to make your acquaintance, Louis Clive Gilbert."

          Louis dropped his eyes, and stared at the floor, looking very embarrassed. Tom kicked Connie slightly in the leg, and raised his eyebrows warningly at her.

          "What? What?!" Connie scowled at him.

          Tom decided to change the subject, "Aren't you worried about going to Hogwarts?"

          Louis shrugged, "So long as I'm in a decent House, and... and people don't make fun of me."

          "House?" Tom looked blank.

          Connie explained the system to Tom, whilst Louis nodded away like a nodding dog opposite them.

          "What House do you want to be in?" Connie asked of the boys, "Dad was in Hufflepuff, I suppose I'd go there, given the choice."

          "Mother was a Ravenclaw, and Father was a Gryffindor," Louis informed them, "I shouldn't mind being anywhere, except Slytherin. I hear they're a rotten lot, there."

          Tom, remembering the picture of his mother in her bright green robes, felt a rush of anger, "There's nothing wrong with Slytherin!"

          Louis went pink again, and shrunk back a little, "I... I'm sorry, I only heard--"

          "Well, don't tell me what you 'only heard'!"

          "Sorry! Just, my sister just said that--"

          "There was nothing wrong with my mother!" Tom realized that he was shouting. He could feel the tears welling up behind his eyes.

          "I never said--"

          "Well, don't say! Don't even think about saying!"

          Louis fell into silence, looking embarrassed and upset. Connie bit her lip, and glanced from one to the other, common sense no doubt informing her to be quiet.

          She really needn't have bothered, for even if she had spoken up, she would have been interrupted. The compartment door slid open, and the curly headed blonde Tom had seen disappear through the barrier entered. Up close, she was a very pretty girl, with honey blonde hair falling in perfect curls, and a rosebud mouth. She wore a disdainful frown and just looked plainly unhappy, with her grey-green eyes staring haughtily out at the world over her nose, which was held high.

          "This seat isn't taken, is it?" she drawled slowly. Perhaps if she'd all been a bit older, her drawl might've sounded seductive, and the rest of them would've noticed. But as she was no older than twelve, she sounded nothing but ridiculous. But no one would ever dream of telling her that.

          Before anyone could answer, she set herself daintily down on the seat by Louis, pointedly making sure she was as far away from him as she could get. Tom realized vaguely that he was gawping, but his mind didn't seem to want to start working enough to close his mouth.

          "There wasn't any room in the other compartments. I got here a bit late, I suppose," she told them airily, smoothing out the wrinkles in her black silk robes. She seemed to want to get the point across that she wasn't here by choice, but by necessity. "My name is Eris Deianira Echelon," she again drawled, accentuating the word 'Echelon.'

          "Hello, pleased to meet you, I'm," Louis looked over at Connie, "Louis Gilbert."

          He held out his hand for a handshake, but Eris Echelon just looked at him. Awkwardly, he pulled his hand back, blushing a brilliant crimson. Tom was too busy staring at Echelon with his jaw wide open, to notice her snappy, mean tone.

          "Well, Miss Eris Deianira Echelon, I'm Constance May Johnson, this is Thomas I-dunno Riddle, and you are very, very rude," Connie sniped, imitating Eris Deianira Echelon's drawl perfectly, eliminating any trace of her native Cockney accent.

          "If I were you, girl, I would watch how I talked to my betters," announced Echelon, tossing her curls.

          "And what does that mean?"

          "You know perfectly well. You're probably not even a Pureblood. My family goes back generations, back to the time of the Hogwarts Four, and before that, as well. Not a drop of that filthy Muggle blood in me," she declared smugly.

          "And so what if I ain't? Are you trying to say something about my mum?"

          "Connie," Louis muttered slightly under his breath, "don't pick a fight, please..."

          "Yes, I'd be quiet if I were you, Johnson," Echelon agreed with Louis, "Or else you may well find that something unfortunate happens to you at Hogwarts...something very unfortunate. Although I can't see anyone truly missing you. Except maybe that stupid Muggle mother of yours."

          "Oh, sod off." Connie rolled her eyes. Tom could see she was holding back a wave of rage. "I'm not the one who came wanderin' in here with no blinkin' friends!"

          Echelon glared back and, apparently unable to think of some witty comeback, muttered "Fine, you people don't know the first thing about manners..." below her breath and stalked off.

          There was a moment of silence, which Connie broke by snapping at Tom, "Get you jaw off the floor. There's nothing worth gawking at in lit'l Miss Eris Deianira Echelon there. Cattier girl I've never seen in my life. In fact, I think she's cattier than Fluffkins here. Eris Deianira the Second'll make a fine name for the little ratbag." Connie waggled her fingers through the bars of the cat basket, let out a yelp of pain, and withdrew her hand, which now sported several red marks.

          Tom sniggered slightly, despite himself, but felt guilty a moment afterwards for doing so. Sniggering wasn't a common or even acceptable practice in the Home, in his case. People sniggered at him-- he didn't snigger at them, unless he wanted his head bashed in.

          Realizing that what Connie had told him off about was true, Tom closed his mouth and blushed violently. He felt like a prat after staring at a girl who had been completely rude to his-- dare he say it?-- friends.

          He'd never had any friends at the Home. To them, he'd always been "that strange kid who can make bad stuff happen." He'd heard the talk. "Yes, Tom Riddle, he's a strange one. A real loony! His mum, I heard, was a witch. Yeah, wit a wand 'n' everything! A bad 'un, too. I bet you anything you like that he's a witch as well..." What a pillock. Boys aren't witches. But still, just the connotations of the word...odd, different, not one of us...

          But here, he wasn't that same Tom. He was normal. He was like every other person on this train. He was magical, and had a better life ahead of him than any one of those gits back at the Home did.

          And Tom was going to make sure that all those morons knew it. Every last one of them.

~*~

          The Hogwarts Express continued onwards, steaming across green countryside, past small towns and hamlets, over viaducts, and through black tunnels filled with swirling smoke.

          It was several hours later, as the sky was turning navy blue with a delicate sprinkling of stars scattered across it, that the Hogwarts Express finally stopped.

          The students tumbled out of the carriages, dragging suitcases, trunks, cat baskets, and cages containing various other creatures.

          The first years were herded into boats of four, and set sail across the rippling waters of a serene lake. Wind rippled across the water, causing the boats to bob like toys in a tin bath.

          And then they saw it; huge, black, and impressive against the night sky, windows casting golden reflections onto the waters of the giant lake. Tom gaped, awestruck. Goodness gracious... he never could have even imagined anywhere so large, so magical, so obviously full of intense secrets.

          "My word..." Tom murmured.

          "Gosh!" Louis nodded in agreement.

          "Blimey!" Connie raised her eyebrows, "And I thought the Tower of London was big!"

          The final member of the boat, a girl with lumpy plaits, who had introduced herself as Peggy Barnaby, just blinked at the silhouette in front of them, apparently speechless.

          With a bump, the boat hit the shore, followed by several others. First years piled out onto the bank, chatting over-excitedly with anticipation.

          "Everyone!" A small but thin woman with a nose you probably could've sliced bread with, a bony, thin face, and coarse red hair pulled back so tightly that it gave the appearance that the skin on her face was somewhat stretched called over the crowd, "Everyone! Be quiet this instant!" They did as she commanded, "Thank you. You are now going to follow me into the Great Hall, where you will be Sorted into your Houses. When you have been allocated a House, you will go and join their table. All right-- everyone, follow me!"

          The doors behind her swung open, revealing the Great Hall. It was massive. The ceiling seemed not to be there at all, for the sky was clearly visible, although it seemed too warm inside for the ceiling really not to be there, Tom decided.

          The Hall smelt of food; Toad in the Hole; Steak and Kidney Pud; Chips; Treacle Tart; Chocolate Pudding. Tom's mouth watered. Louis and Connie looked equally as hungry. All the new students gazed at the food in longing. It occurred to Tom that he hadn't eaten in ages...

          The babble of talk from the entire school died away, as the first years were lead to the front of the Hall, and a thin and reedy man stood up to speak.

          "Welcome, everyone! Welcome back to all our old students, and as for our new ones, well, welcome to you, too! I am your head teacher, Professor Armando Dippet. I hope that you enjoy your time here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and do your best in all areas. Now, to the Sorting... for those of you who don't know, when year name is called, you are to come forward and put the hat on your head. It will tell you which House you best belong in." His voice was wheezy, and it grated on Tom's nerves.

          He looked around, wondering what the Professor could possibly mean about "the hat." It was only then that he noticed a hat, placed on a stool in front of them. It was dingy, worn, most certainly not magical looking. He exchanged glances with Connie and Louis, both of whom shrugged and looked confused.

          At that moment, a tear at the hat's brim opened, so that it looked for all the world like a mouth, and a sing-song voice came out, chanting;

These tales aren't few or far between,

But such a history you've never seen!

These stories, now in old folklore

Tell the epics of the Hogwarts four--

the founders of our school so dear.

For great Gryffindor, the brave at heart

would of his House become a part;

For Slytherin, so says the tale,

the cunning will surely never fail;

For Hufflepuff, the members of this house are true,

and prove that good folk be not few;

Finally, for Ravenclaw, the cleverest ones you ever saw,

their learning and braininess remembered in awe.

These tales are great, but very true,

Such will never spring anew!

These myths, now in old folklore,

Tell the epics of the Hogwarts four--

the founders of our school so dear.

          The whole school burst into applause, and everyone began talking all at once again, until the first name was called;

          "Abbingdon, Felicity-Anne!"

          The girl skittered forward, and rammed the hat upon her head. There was a moment of silence, and then...

          "Hufflepuff!" Abbingdon trotted off to join the table decorated with yellow and black. The Hufflepuff students stamped, clapped and cheered her as she plonked herself down amongst them.

          "Alley, Julianna!" became the first new Ravenclaw, and then "Amway, Seaward!" joined the Hufflepuffs. The first Gryffindor was "Baynes, Penny!", and the first Slytherin, "Carrington, Mabel!"

          Tom watched his companions slowly leaving the front of the Hall to join their Houses, and could feel what seemed to be someone squeezing his stomach into a tight knot with a clammy hand. He noticed that Eris Echelon sat at the Slytherin table, her nose held high as ever. She must already have finished her first year.

          Eventually, the name "Gilbert, Louis Clive!" was called out, and Louis loped to the front, looking absolutely terrified. He sat with the sorting hat on his head for maybe five seconds, before being declared a Ravenclaw.

          Some time later came Connie's turn. She was declared a Hufflepuff. Tom hoped and prayed that he could join his friends at either the Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff tables. Louis was staring into a bowl of blanc mange now, and Connie was talking about something to a fellow Hufflepuff who wore a pained expression. Oh, please could he be with one of his friends, please...?

          "Riddle, Thomas!" he jumped slightly at the sound of his name, and upon being shoved forward by the nervous blonde boy standing next to him, tottered towards the hat, placed himself nervously on the stool, and dropped the hat on his head. It was dark, musty, and smelt strongly of moth balls-- or what he hoped was moth balls.

          Ah... said a little voice next to his ear, I can see that you're one interesting person, Tom Riddle...

          Yes, well. That's me. Interesting. Right.

          The hat seemed to laugh at this thought, Indeed, yes. Hmmm... I couldn't put you in Hufflepuff; far too interesting for that... I don't think Ravenclaw would be your kind of place... Gryffindor? I don't think so. You'd fit in, very well, in fact, but what the world needs is not another foolishly brave wizard... the world needs...needs something else... I don't think... well... I'll put you in...

          Not Slytherin... I want to be with my friends... not Gryffindor... I want to be with my friends...

          Be quiet, boy. As I was about to say, I'm going to put you in...

          "SLYTHERIN!"

          Tom groaned inwardly despite himself, removed the hat from his head, and wandered over to the Slytherin table, where cheers and chat greeted him.

          He didn't know how he knew, or even if he was supposed to know, but he knew that this was not supposed to happen...

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