AN: Sorry this is taking so long. I've got testing, and all is hectic. Not
to mention, my computer's down, so I've got random friends attempting to do
this for me.
"It's the hard knock life... for us... it's the hard knock life for us! No one cares for YOU a smidge, when you're in an or-phan-age!" Good luck getting that song out of your head after reading this.
~~
Chapter Seven: Riddles
~~
It was with a heavy heart and a troubled mind that Tom Riddle returned to his orphanage. Under the surface of all the recent events and issues, Tom couldn't help but frown at the fact that what had become his entire life, the first thing he could be proud of that belonged to him, would have to be kept secret through the coming summer.
Mrs. Wentworth hadn't picked him up from King's Cross – Tom had known all too well she wouldn't have been able to muster that much decency. Instead, there'd stood a young girl – a young woman to Tom – who'd looked like she had to have been no more than seventeen.
She had the softest voice Tom had ever heard. She was a muggle with a driver's license and too much time on her hands, which was precisely the reason the orphanage had sent her.
The car had started, by some mechanical genius – and a key. Nothing spectacular in Tom's view, though to any other wizard it would have been a spectacle to see anything work efficiently simply by the laws of nature.
Tom watched the countless trees and buildings pass beyond the window until the young woman's voice cut into his thoughts.
"So, you're Tom Riddle?"
His eyes didn't leave the window. He made an affirmative grunt.
"I heard about you," she said, and Tom turned to look at her. Her eyes were on the road. "From some of the children, I mean."
"Children?"
She smiled, glancing at him. "There are still children back at the orphanage, Tom. Nothing's changed."
"You work there?"
"No, I live there."
Tom frowned. "But I've never seen you before."
"Of course you haven't," she replied plainly. "I was raised in Little Whinging... Surrey, you know?"
It sounded familiar.
"Well, they moved me to the one here, at least until I'm old enough to leave."
Tom fell into silence – a silence that was easily broken again.
"My name's Lillian Greenwood. Lily, preferably."
"Tom Riddle," he muttered. Lily laughed. "I knew that."
It was an awkward moment enough without her laughing at him, though he knew she meant well.
Slowly, but surely, the dreary outline of the orphanage was coming into view among the other buildings that crowded it. It seemed duller than ever.
As Tom remembered it, that summer had been one of the worst. Too many had asked him of his whereabouts. This new school they asked of... Tom used no discretion in telling them it was called Hogwarts. None of them knew about it, and besides, most of them were small children anyway, and they'd lap anything up.
The more inquisitive and older children heard the rumor, and asked the heads of the orphanage about it. The heads, who knew Tom's secret, all denied the existence of such a school profusely, and punished Tom for letting it slip.
Brian Dursley wouldn't take any stories, though. He wanted to know.
"Some place in Scotland," Tom muttered in reply, scrubbing the floors harder. This was the result of telling the honest truth to a bunch of little children who would have taken it any other way.
Brian leaned against the wall, extracted a wad of lint from his pockets, which he casually dropped in front of Tom's nose and onto the floor. Tom scrubbed it away, glaring up at the idiot.
"Scotland, eh? I don't suppose this is a school to shape you up," He grinned, "because they're not doing much of a job with that, are they?"
"Special school," Tom muttered.
"Are you special, now?" Brian's voice was mockingly skeptical, his eyes filled with cruel mirth.
Tom stood. "Maybe I thought getting away from rotters like you would be nice for a change."
Brian toed the shining floor, and suddenly swept his foot across it, knocking over the bucket of soapy water Tom had been working with.
"Maybe leaving would be nice," he answered, giving Tom a good shove. "How 'bout the next room? That one's gotten pretty dirty."
Tom shoved back, his lips tight.
Brian grinned, and clenched his fists. "But I guess you can't leave, now can you?" He indicated the spilled water. "You've already got a nasty mess in here."
Ah, the mess. It could have been gone in a second. Simple spell, really. So were a lot of curses that suddenly came to mind.
But, no... this ragged cloth would have to do.
"I'll leave you to your work," Brian said, mistaking this moment as a victory for himself as he turned his back on Tom.
No, these fists would have to do....
~~~~~~~~~~
Tom was quickly caught, the fight quickly stopped, the Riddle boy quickly punished. It seemed the cleaning would never end.
Lily Greenwood, wanted or not, continued to befriend Tom. It was a comfort to know someone was on his side... but at the moment, company wasn't the best thing for his anger. It was only a motivation for him to say something harsh.
She sat in a chair by the door with nothing productive to say, only watching Tom wash the windows... the cloth going back and forth, back and forth.
"'S rotten, isn't it?" she mused after a while.
"What is?" Tom asked, an ironic reply. Many things were rotten... but what could be bothering her as much as him?
"Oh... things. Secrets..."
Tom dropped the rag, turning around. His face was incredulous. "Sorry?"
Lily smiled. "You know. Keeping secrets."
Lily was a muggle. According to her kind, there was no one else in the world but them. They knew everything. What secret could she keep?
"What secret?" Tom asked, reflecting his musings.
Lily smiled. "Must be hard. Coming back from Hogwarts, I mean."
"What?" Hogwarts didn't exist.
"The things you do there. It's completely different." She laughed, mirthless but still warm. "And here you are, washing the windows. I'm so sorry."
"What are you talking about?"
"Hogwarts," she replied. She was five years his senior – could she really be that gullible?
"That was a story," he answered dismissively. "I thought the children might like it." He picked up his discarded rag and continued his chore, willing Lily to stop before she started asking questions.
"They did like it," she said. Tom had his back to her, but no matter, he could hear her smiling.
"Well, then there's no use playing off the idea. I'm going to a school in Scotland... for gifted, er, well, for students. Like me."
"Yes," she said, as if it were obvious. "Hogwarts."
Tom hadn't felt the anger until at that moment, it burst. He threw the rag at the window, spinning around. "There is no Hogwarts!" He hadn't said it loudly, really, or harshly... only emphatically. But it seemed enough to quiet her.
There was a moment in which Lily didn't react, and Tom thought fleetingly of apologizing. Perhaps he'd really hurt her.
But, no. She smiled, winked at him, and left the room with a farewell over her shoulder.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sure, this summer may have been bad, miserable, even. But the mystery it held was what stood out in Tom's memory. Much of the mystery surrounded this Lillian Greenwood, but a bit more revolved around a certain overheard conversation his last day.
It was nearly autumn, now. Still summer, in a sense, but the northern breeze had come early. Dragging his tightly locked trunk behind him, Tom noticed a window to his left. Through the glass, he caught a glimpse of the day.
London wore September well. Tom corrected himself with a groan – it was still August, and he wasn't at school yet.
His trunk seemed especially heavy now. Maybe it was the exhaustion, the relief, the anxiety, the excitement... the misery... the joy...
The utter confusion of battling emotions. He was hungry, too.
He dropped his trunk, and sat himself on the top. It was early morning, the post had probably just dropped off. Indeed, Tom noticed one of the heads heading to the office with a stack of letters in their hands.
Sighing deeply, Tom let his head fall back. The ceiling had never held his attention until now. The contours, the blankness, the subtle folds of shading that condensed in the corners... it wasn't really interesting... but it was better than watching the floor.
It was also the one thing Tom hadn't washed this summer.
Muffled voices filtered into his scattered thoughts. Thoughts of classes, random people, early childhood memories... Tom Riddle...
The muffled voices returned to him, and his thoughts were hushed... Tom Riddle, he'd heard...
"Yes, it's that Mr. Riddle again."
"So it is?" The second voice sounded uninterested.
Tom slid off his trunk. How many other Riddles could there be?
"He's been making trouble for the longest time. I can't make him stop..."
Honestly, he hadn't been causing THAT much trouble.
"...of course he has every right to, but still... oh, that boy..."
The second voice sounded again. "What about the boy?"
"The poor boy can't stay forever."
Now Tom was certain.
"And he won't."
"Not with all this trouble."
"Don't speak of him. I won't have it."
Tom inched closer to the door.
"It's threatening, miss."
Threatening? How was he threatening?
"Threatening to whom?"
"I – I don't know, exactly, miss... but one thing's for sure, this can't keep happening. He'll learn the truth if Mr. Riddle isn't careful."
What truth?
"That's precisely what he wants."
Who?
Tom found himself with his hand on the doorknob, turned, waiting for a reason to push...
The next statement was hushed. "You don't suppose he means to come here?"
I am here, Tom thought. He pushed.
Upon Tom's sudden arrival, the two heads exchanged quick looks. One face was flushed, the other severely pink. The pink belonged to Mrs. Wentworth. "I heard my name," Tom blurted.
"We weren't talking about you, Mr. Riddle," she snapped.
There it was, the name. "But you were!" he countered lamely.
"We were talking about someone else," the other head offered, soothingly, it seemed.
"Someone else with my name?"
Mrs. Wentworth frowned, her lips pursed, her nose wrinkled. There was no room for evading. "Yes, Mr. Riddle." She turned her head with a snap, intending to quiet the other head with a look, but the woman intentionally wasn't looking her way.
Tom's attention was focused now on the other head, who'd taken a breath to speak, her eyes closed in resignation.
The door opened.
"Ah, Miss Greenwood. It's about time."
Lily's hand was on Tom's shoulder. "The car's ready," she said.
Mrs. Wentworth was ushering him out.
"Have a good year," she droned, a little harshly.
"But – " He fought against Lily's tightening grip. "No!"
"Good bye, Mr. Riddle," the other woman said, now smarting from her near slip, contemplating the answer she held to all of Tom's questions.
~~~~~~~~~~
AN: Believe me, this chapter was NOT to frustrate you! You'll have answers. Hence the chapter title. Okay. Yesh. Erm... reviews?
"It's the hard knock life... for us... it's the hard knock life for us! No one cares for YOU a smidge, when you're in an or-phan-age!" Good luck getting that song out of your head after reading this.
~~
Chapter Seven: Riddles
~~
It was with a heavy heart and a troubled mind that Tom Riddle returned to his orphanage. Under the surface of all the recent events and issues, Tom couldn't help but frown at the fact that what had become his entire life, the first thing he could be proud of that belonged to him, would have to be kept secret through the coming summer.
Mrs. Wentworth hadn't picked him up from King's Cross – Tom had known all too well she wouldn't have been able to muster that much decency. Instead, there'd stood a young girl – a young woman to Tom – who'd looked like she had to have been no more than seventeen.
She had the softest voice Tom had ever heard. She was a muggle with a driver's license and too much time on her hands, which was precisely the reason the orphanage had sent her.
The car had started, by some mechanical genius – and a key. Nothing spectacular in Tom's view, though to any other wizard it would have been a spectacle to see anything work efficiently simply by the laws of nature.
Tom watched the countless trees and buildings pass beyond the window until the young woman's voice cut into his thoughts.
"So, you're Tom Riddle?"
His eyes didn't leave the window. He made an affirmative grunt.
"I heard about you," she said, and Tom turned to look at her. Her eyes were on the road. "From some of the children, I mean."
"Children?"
She smiled, glancing at him. "There are still children back at the orphanage, Tom. Nothing's changed."
"You work there?"
"No, I live there."
Tom frowned. "But I've never seen you before."
"Of course you haven't," she replied plainly. "I was raised in Little Whinging... Surrey, you know?"
It sounded familiar.
"Well, they moved me to the one here, at least until I'm old enough to leave."
Tom fell into silence – a silence that was easily broken again.
"My name's Lillian Greenwood. Lily, preferably."
"Tom Riddle," he muttered. Lily laughed. "I knew that."
It was an awkward moment enough without her laughing at him, though he knew she meant well.
Slowly, but surely, the dreary outline of the orphanage was coming into view among the other buildings that crowded it. It seemed duller than ever.
As Tom remembered it, that summer had been one of the worst. Too many had asked him of his whereabouts. This new school they asked of... Tom used no discretion in telling them it was called Hogwarts. None of them knew about it, and besides, most of them were small children anyway, and they'd lap anything up.
The more inquisitive and older children heard the rumor, and asked the heads of the orphanage about it. The heads, who knew Tom's secret, all denied the existence of such a school profusely, and punished Tom for letting it slip.
Brian Dursley wouldn't take any stories, though. He wanted to know.
"Some place in Scotland," Tom muttered in reply, scrubbing the floors harder. This was the result of telling the honest truth to a bunch of little children who would have taken it any other way.
Brian leaned against the wall, extracted a wad of lint from his pockets, which he casually dropped in front of Tom's nose and onto the floor. Tom scrubbed it away, glaring up at the idiot.
"Scotland, eh? I don't suppose this is a school to shape you up," He grinned, "because they're not doing much of a job with that, are they?"
"Special school," Tom muttered.
"Are you special, now?" Brian's voice was mockingly skeptical, his eyes filled with cruel mirth.
Tom stood. "Maybe I thought getting away from rotters like you would be nice for a change."
Brian toed the shining floor, and suddenly swept his foot across it, knocking over the bucket of soapy water Tom had been working with.
"Maybe leaving would be nice," he answered, giving Tom a good shove. "How 'bout the next room? That one's gotten pretty dirty."
Tom shoved back, his lips tight.
Brian grinned, and clenched his fists. "But I guess you can't leave, now can you?" He indicated the spilled water. "You've already got a nasty mess in here."
Ah, the mess. It could have been gone in a second. Simple spell, really. So were a lot of curses that suddenly came to mind.
But, no... this ragged cloth would have to do.
"I'll leave you to your work," Brian said, mistaking this moment as a victory for himself as he turned his back on Tom.
No, these fists would have to do....
~~~~~~~~~~
Tom was quickly caught, the fight quickly stopped, the Riddle boy quickly punished. It seemed the cleaning would never end.
Lily Greenwood, wanted or not, continued to befriend Tom. It was a comfort to know someone was on his side... but at the moment, company wasn't the best thing for his anger. It was only a motivation for him to say something harsh.
She sat in a chair by the door with nothing productive to say, only watching Tom wash the windows... the cloth going back and forth, back and forth.
"'S rotten, isn't it?" she mused after a while.
"What is?" Tom asked, an ironic reply. Many things were rotten... but what could be bothering her as much as him?
"Oh... things. Secrets..."
Tom dropped the rag, turning around. His face was incredulous. "Sorry?"
Lily smiled. "You know. Keeping secrets."
Lily was a muggle. According to her kind, there was no one else in the world but them. They knew everything. What secret could she keep?
"What secret?" Tom asked, reflecting his musings.
Lily smiled. "Must be hard. Coming back from Hogwarts, I mean."
"What?" Hogwarts didn't exist.
"The things you do there. It's completely different." She laughed, mirthless but still warm. "And here you are, washing the windows. I'm so sorry."
"What are you talking about?"
"Hogwarts," she replied. She was five years his senior – could she really be that gullible?
"That was a story," he answered dismissively. "I thought the children might like it." He picked up his discarded rag and continued his chore, willing Lily to stop before she started asking questions.
"They did like it," she said. Tom had his back to her, but no matter, he could hear her smiling.
"Well, then there's no use playing off the idea. I'm going to a school in Scotland... for gifted, er, well, for students. Like me."
"Yes," she said, as if it were obvious. "Hogwarts."
Tom hadn't felt the anger until at that moment, it burst. He threw the rag at the window, spinning around. "There is no Hogwarts!" He hadn't said it loudly, really, or harshly... only emphatically. But it seemed enough to quiet her.
There was a moment in which Lily didn't react, and Tom thought fleetingly of apologizing. Perhaps he'd really hurt her.
But, no. She smiled, winked at him, and left the room with a farewell over her shoulder.
~~~~~~~~~~
Sure, this summer may have been bad, miserable, even. But the mystery it held was what stood out in Tom's memory. Much of the mystery surrounded this Lillian Greenwood, but a bit more revolved around a certain overheard conversation his last day.
It was nearly autumn, now. Still summer, in a sense, but the northern breeze had come early. Dragging his tightly locked trunk behind him, Tom noticed a window to his left. Through the glass, he caught a glimpse of the day.
London wore September well. Tom corrected himself with a groan – it was still August, and he wasn't at school yet.
His trunk seemed especially heavy now. Maybe it was the exhaustion, the relief, the anxiety, the excitement... the misery... the joy...
The utter confusion of battling emotions. He was hungry, too.
He dropped his trunk, and sat himself on the top. It was early morning, the post had probably just dropped off. Indeed, Tom noticed one of the heads heading to the office with a stack of letters in their hands.
Sighing deeply, Tom let his head fall back. The ceiling had never held his attention until now. The contours, the blankness, the subtle folds of shading that condensed in the corners... it wasn't really interesting... but it was better than watching the floor.
It was also the one thing Tom hadn't washed this summer.
Muffled voices filtered into his scattered thoughts. Thoughts of classes, random people, early childhood memories... Tom Riddle...
The muffled voices returned to him, and his thoughts were hushed... Tom Riddle, he'd heard...
"Yes, it's that Mr. Riddle again."
"So it is?" The second voice sounded uninterested.
Tom slid off his trunk. How many other Riddles could there be?
"He's been making trouble for the longest time. I can't make him stop..."
Honestly, he hadn't been causing THAT much trouble.
"...of course he has every right to, but still... oh, that boy..."
The second voice sounded again. "What about the boy?"
"The poor boy can't stay forever."
Now Tom was certain.
"And he won't."
"Not with all this trouble."
"Don't speak of him. I won't have it."
Tom inched closer to the door.
"It's threatening, miss."
Threatening? How was he threatening?
"Threatening to whom?"
"I – I don't know, exactly, miss... but one thing's for sure, this can't keep happening. He'll learn the truth if Mr. Riddle isn't careful."
What truth?
"That's precisely what he wants."
Who?
Tom found himself with his hand on the doorknob, turned, waiting for a reason to push...
The next statement was hushed. "You don't suppose he means to come here?"
I am here, Tom thought. He pushed.
Upon Tom's sudden arrival, the two heads exchanged quick looks. One face was flushed, the other severely pink. The pink belonged to Mrs. Wentworth. "I heard my name," Tom blurted.
"We weren't talking about you, Mr. Riddle," she snapped.
There it was, the name. "But you were!" he countered lamely.
"We were talking about someone else," the other head offered, soothingly, it seemed.
"Someone else with my name?"
Mrs. Wentworth frowned, her lips pursed, her nose wrinkled. There was no room for evading. "Yes, Mr. Riddle." She turned her head with a snap, intending to quiet the other head with a look, but the woman intentionally wasn't looking her way.
Tom's attention was focused now on the other head, who'd taken a breath to speak, her eyes closed in resignation.
The door opened.
"Ah, Miss Greenwood. It's about time."
Lily's hand was on Tom's shoulder. "The car's ready," she said.
Mrs. Wentworth was ushering him out.
"Have a good year," she droned, a little harshly.
"But – " He fought against Lily's tightening grip. "No!"
"Good bye, Mr. Riddle," the other woman said, now smarting from her near slip, contemplating the answer she held to all of Tom's questions.
~~~~~~~~~~
AN: Believe me, this chapter was NOT to frustrate you! You'll have answers. Hence the chapter title. Okay. Yesh. Erm... reviews?