Sorry for the wait for this update, and thanks a million to everyone whoÕs reviewed so far. Your criticism and praise have gone a long way to keeping me motivated.
Sabrina Rosalie- IÕve always found Tom very fascinating as well. Normally, I donÕt like it when authors make villains sympathetic by giving them a bad upbringing or what not, but as you said, he must hate muggles for some reason. Thanks for the settings tip too. /blush/ Newbie mistake.
Chris- Yes, I made a serious effort to make Tom sound as adult as possible. He would indeed have to be phenomenally brilliant to earn such high praise from Dumbledore (himself a brilliant Hogwarts grad, and terribly brilliant.) If nothing else, it saved me the trouble of remembering what 11 year olds think like. I figured a brilliant 11 year old would sound like an adult. Now my only worry is figuring out what brilliant 16 year olds think like!
DescendingAngel- First impressions are everything, which is why I wanted Dumbledore to come up so soon. I made Tom wary of him even from the get go, as you mentioned, because I figured if he really respected Dumbledore, things might have turned out very differently. Interesting path of speculation.
Ice Angel-This chapter will be much darker than the last, and things will become progressively more noir as the story goes on. The ending will be very dark. As to the weird symbols, thatÕs just how the site reacts to my documents, so IÕm not sure how to fix it. Suggestions are welcome, though.
Disclaimer: Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts, and many other people and places that you will no doubt recognize, are the property of JK Rowling.
22 July
Well, as it turns out thereÕs been no need to prove any of the events of the last two days to myself. The absolutely charming mistress of the orphanage has seen fit to remind me every waking hour of the day. I canÕt believe I was so stupid! I should have thought ahead, should have planned some lie, some excuse to give to her. IÕm just glad that I could leave most of my school things behind in storage at the Leaky Cauldron (another debt I owe to Dumbledore, sadly, since he realized even before I did that I wouldnÕt be able to carry a fully packed trunk four miles across the city.)
I could not, however, be parted from the books. I stayed up all night that night after I last wrote, reading through them, trying to absorb as much as I could. Honestly, I had expected to struggle with it more. Granted, IÕve never struggled with learning facts and figures, but this was something totally new and foreign: spells, charms, incantations, transfigurations, jinxes, and the history of my new world. Yet it seemed so familiar yet compelling, as if I had grown up hearing all of it, like learning to read for the first time after knowing for years how to speak. So wrapped up in my new world, I had not given any thought to explanations and appearance.
And the next morning I wished I had. I stayed up so late that I slept past dawn, and the mistress cannot abide those who sleep late, especially when they happen to be me. Nothing quite like a crack across the back with her accursed cane to wake one up. Things only got worse, of course. After the ÒGet up, Riddle, you worthless lump,Ó beating came the ÒWhere were you yesterday?Ó beating. I tried to lie and say I had actually been there and that she had just missed me, but she wouldnÕt believe a word of it. After the second beating, she told me to get my things and move into the room (closet, more like) next to her office, where I would be locked in round the clock. Well, not quite round the clock. She also has me scouring pots and scrubbing floors.
At least I have my privacy, of course. When she finally lets me off (usually late) I can read to my heartÕs content (I managed to sneak my books in along with my other things), as long as IÕm quiet and donÕt tip her off. If I can just keep a low profile until September the first, this may actually turn out to be a fortunate turn of events. More fortunate than it already has been, that is. This raises another problem, of course: how am I going to bet out of here when the time comes? Will the school send someone if I donÕt come in time? Can I take the chance that they will, or will I have to find a way out on my own? Well, I have more than a month to figure it out, and figuring is one of my strong suits.
30 July
So far IÕve been able to stay out of trouble. I think the mistress may only have reacted as she did because she was still angry about the incident with Reshhhh and Sssset. IÕve been thinking about them a great deal this last week or so, remembering how wonderful it was, if only for less than a day, to have someone to talk to, someone to listen. How I miss them, especially now. I still spend my nights reading. I almost wish I had brought my wand with me from Diagon Alley, to practice some of what IÕm learning. If nothing else, that would have made escape easier. I already know a charm for opening locks and doors. But then, that would have meant keeping a low profile impossible, and also permanently remove me from the only home I have (awful as it is.)
Anyway, my reading, as I have said, is progressing wonderfully. In fact, it is just about the only thing sustaining me through the work and the solitude. I canÕt wait for school to begin. Every new bit of knowledge, every fact, every spell, seems to be a drop of warmth and happiness in my heart, a piece falling into place, slowling building me up from Tom Riddle, the orphan, the no one, to someone else, someone people will remember, someone people will resepect. ItÕs as though my entire life to this point has been nothing but a prelude, preparation for what is going to begin in a month and two days, for my real life. Great things are waiting for me. I can feel them.
5 August
I donÕt know what to do. I just donÕt know what to do. She searched my room, when I was cleaning the dinner dishes. She found the books. IÕve never seen her so angry. She looked absolutely insane with rage. IÕve never had a beating like that one. IÕm still bleeding, in fact. She demanded an explanation, so I told her something resembling the truth, that I was contacted by the boarding school one of my relatives had attended, and that the reason I had been gone that day was to buy what I needed, using the money left me by that relative. She seemed to regain control of herself, then, but she was far from finished. She congratulated me, in a very cold, very dangerous voice, and then told me that she regretted putting such a promising young scholar as myself to work scrubbing dishes. No, from now on I would remain in my new room all day long. I could live with that, I told her defiantly. Further, she said, since I could afford such nice books (donÕt know what she was talking about, they were second hand) then I neednÕt burden the orphanage food budget more than necessary. I told her I could live with that too. She didnÕt take this well. I got another beating, and then was dismissed. Then, I made my worst mistake yet: I asked for my books back. She just smiled at me, a twisted, evil smile, and locked them in her cabinet. And then beat me again.
In retrospect, IÕm just happy that I hid this journal more effectively than the rest of my books. Also in retrospect, IÕm surprised she asked me why I had books, but didnÕt seem to care that they were spell books. Probably canÕt read, the foul cow. Not that it would have mattered to her. All that mattered was that they made me happy, and that just wouldnÕt do at all. What am I going to do?
17 August
I must endure. Though it try my healthy, my strength, and my very sanity, I must endure. I have seen nothing but the inside of this accursed room for nearly a fortnight now. I donÕt even see much of her. SheÕs down to feeding me and letting me out to the toilet once a day (in the same trip, lest I feel too lucky.) and none of the others would care less what happens to me. Someone at the school is bound to take notice eventually. I just have to wait. I must endure.
23 August
Feeling weak, but I must write. Must write before the thoughts buzzing in my head drive me insane. Stopped feeding me 5 days ago. Toilet now every other day, and I get a beating every time she opens the door. SheÕs getting angrier every day. Why?
Losing hope. The warmth is gone. Maybe I did dream it all. What other explanation is there? The world is foul, cruel, and it will have nothing to do with me. IÕm dying. I can feel it. IÕm going to die in this tiny room, and end like my mother, with not even my own blood remembering my name.
31 August
Salvation! ThereÕs no other word to describe it. I only got weaker and weaker in the time from my last entry. Then, suddenly, yesterday, she dragged me into her office. I waited for her to get out the cane, and to beat out the last of my life. But she didnÕt. She called for food and ordered me to eat. I didnÕt know what to do except obey, being careful not to shock my stomach. As I ate, she told me that I was to finish eating and wash up, and that I would be going to school in 2 days. Just in time! I couldnÕt believe my luck! And then. Then, she unlocked her cabinet and gave me back my books. My books! My wonderful books! I had to stay in the closet, but it didnÕt matter. I had my books back, and I was going to Hogwarts again. The dream became true!