Warnings for the entire story: Child neglect and abuse discussed. Death of characters including children.
ANs:
1. Demur means hesitation.
2. You must read the entire story to understand all the changes in this AU. Just accept them.
3. Not my best work but I didn't want to delete it.
CHAPTER 1
Tom observed the child assessing the tall shelves from the corner of his eye. He was surprised when a look of absolute concentration took over her small face, creasing her brow, and then watched in surprise as a jar gently floated down to the girl's waiting hands. With a beaming smile, the girl turned about and walked towards the till where Tom was standing.
"Yes?" Tom asked from behind the counter.
"I would like to pay for this, sir." The girl placed the jar of puffer-fish eyes on the counter.
"Aren't you a bit young to be out by yourself?"
"My dad's right next door and asked me to come here. This way we'll be done with our errands sooner."
"He's too busy to purchase his own ingredients?"
"Oh no, this is for me."
"For you?" Tom did not believe her.
"Yes, sir."
"You can brew potions?"
"Yes, sir. Dad supervises. He won't even let me move on until I can brew a potion without the recipe." The girl pouted for a second then smiled again. "A lot of repetition but it works. He says I have to wait until I'm older and stronger to do things on my own since some cauldrons are bigger than me."
"Are you saying you can already brew some potions well? With instruction?"
"Yes, sir."
"I see." He watched the child eye a packet of snake fangs with mild interest as she waited. "Is your father a potioneer by chance?"
"No, sir, he's a healer. But he needs to know loads of potions for his job so he's really good. He's been teaching me."
"Has he?" Tom decided to test her. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"Nothing, sir, they are the same genus of over 250 species of flowering plants. They are also known as aconite, leopard's bane, devil's helmet, and queen of poisons among others. Members of the genus contain substantial amounts of the highly toxic aconitine and related alkaloids, especially in their roots and tubers. Aconitine is a potent neurotoxin that causes persistent depolarization of neuronal sodium channels in tetrodotoxin-sensitive tissues. The influx of sodium through these channels and the delay in their repolarization increases their excitability. Effects include diarrhea, convulsions, ventricular arrhythmia and death." By the end of her explanation the child was slightly out of breath.
Riddle was shocked still for a moment before opening his mouth. "And where exactly did you learn that?"
"From my dad. I borrowed his copy of R.D. Mann's Modern Drug use: An Enquiry on Historical Principles and started asking him questions. He specializes in using toxins as a treatment method. I learned all about aconite last year."
"Really?" Riddle asked a bit sarcastically. "Please, enlighten me on how muggle drugs," he almost spat out the words, "could possibly be useful in magical healing."
"Well," the child paused to think, "the book discusses the medical thinkers of the sixteenth century such as Paracelsus who to the muggles was a pioneer chemist. I've only skimmed the book so I can't go quite into detail. Though, it does mention the supernatural and magic but discounts it as a primitive thought regarding the true nature of disease. I know better of course. Plus, Dad likes Paracelsus because he combined muggle science and magic. All quite fascinating."
"How old are you, child?"
"I'm nine, sir," she responded with a happy chirp.
"Hmmm, still a bit too young for Hogwarts."
"Oh I won't go to Hogwarts."
"Ilvermorny then?" He guessed due to the girl's non-British accent that was still tilted towards a native speaker of English.
"No, sir. I'm going to continue being homeschooled."
"I am curious as to why you would be denied attending a magical school."
The child tilted her head to the side before answering, "Dad says I'll find it boring. I've actually read through Hogwarts first year books and he's right. I already know everything."
Tom raised his eyebrow. "You've already completed the entire first year Hogwarts curriculum?"
"Yes, I'm currently revising the second year at the moment. I am practicing brewing the swelling solution from memory but ran out of puffer-fish eyes." The child has a look of disappointment at her apparent failure.
"Thus why you're here."
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. That will be 3 sickles."
The girl counted out the coins from a pouch and placed them on the counter. "Here you are sir." She then pocketed the jar and the pouch. "Have a nice day," she called back and waved as she walked towards the exit.
Tom was going to respond, to ask her name, when the shop door opened. A young man stepped in. Tom examined the man's features. He looked familiar but he couldn't place it.
"Pops, I got what I needed." The child greeted him happily.
"That's great, squirt," the young man moved closer and ran his fingers through the girl's long curly hair in a failed attempt at taming it. "Now you can practise while I revise my notes for tomorrow's meeting." The young man looked around the shop and smiled politely when he noticed Tom. "Mr Riddle. I didn't know you worked here."
The young man turned towards Tom and he found himself struggling not to gape. It was like looking at the distorted image of James Potter and Regulus Black but with green eyes. He quickly glanced at the child again and realized she looked like Lily Potter but with James' Potter's black hair.
Tom was confused, the girl called the man Pops, as in she was his daughter. But if the child was Rose Potter, which she could be, then who was the man? He felt unbalanced.
"I do not work here. The proprietor had to step out for a few hours and called in a favor."
"That was very kind of you." The man then turned to the girl. "Rose, this is Professor Tom Riddle, he is the current Defense Professor at Hogwarts."
The girl seemed to apparate in front of Tom for how quickly she moved. "Are you really?" she asked from the other side of the counter.
"Yes," Tom looked surprised at the child's sudden reappearance. Why was the child looking at him that way?
"Wicked." The girl would not stop staring.
"Squirt, mind your manners."
"Oh, sorry, sir. That was rather rude of me."
"She's a fan of yours," the man offered. "Has read every one of your articles in Magic Monthly UK."
At that Tom' eyebrows raised. "Is that so?" He looked at Rose. "And you understood them?"
The child blushed. "Dad has to explain some bits, but it was all very interesting. You and Dad are so cool."
At Tom's incredulous look, he responded. "You'll probably read about it in the papers soon anyway, please don't spread it about, alright?" Tom's deadpanned look was enough to answer. "I discovered a cure for the Cruciatus."
"Have you really?" Tom was taken aback.
"Yes, I published my findings in Telephoros several months ago and the word spread. Which is why we're in town. Meeting with the Head of St Mungo's."
"You live in Greece?"
The man shook his head. "No, but I like their publication standards."
"I see."
"Well, best be off."
"You never introduced yourself."
"Oh my, where are my manners, sorry about that." He extended his hand. "Harry Black, and you've met Rose already. Rose Potter."
Tom took the man's hand. "I wasn't aware of any more Blacks. Let alone one claiming to be the father of the girl-who-lived." It was fascinating to watch both their expressions sour.
"Please don't call her that." Harry's voice was firm, his previous care-free friendly tone gone. Then he turned to the child. "Come on, squirt. Let's skedaddle."
"Goodbye, Mr Riddle. It was really nice to meet you."
The child's hyper prattling to her father could be heard until the door closed. She was excited to have met the Tom Riddle, the youngest dueling champion in the world. It was flattering. Not that the man would admit it to anyone.
That same evening, Tom stalked towards the Great Hall for dinner. The room had only a dozen or so occupants, as most of the students had gone home for the Half-Term holidays. He took his seat next to the Headmistress as they were the only teachers on the rotation.
"Good Evening, Minerva."
"Good Evening, Tom. How did you fare tending the Apothecary for Mr Pippin?"
"I survived."
"Oh Tom," she gave a light laugh.
Dinner appeared and they served themselves. When Minerva put down her fork and knife, Tom broached the topic he'd been wanting to discuss with her.
"Minerva?"
"Yes?"
"Have you heard anything from Black recently?" He made his voice seem uninterested.
"Black? As in Regulus Black?"
"Do you know any other?"
"Well, no."
"So. Have you?"
"Have I what?"
"Heard anything."
"No." She looked at him with open curiosity. "Why do you ask?"
"I was wondering if he did anything with his life."
"He was talented in Potions."
"Do you know where he went after he was released?"
"No. Such a travesty, him being accused of betraying the Potters. I'm glad the truth came out when Sirius was found. I can't believe he spent all those months in Azkaban for a crime his own brother committed."
"Did he leave the country? I haven't seen hide nor hair of him in almost eight years."
"I heard he travels a lot but not sure if he ever comes back."
"I'm surprised Black could hold a secret from you."
"I was merely his teacher."
"Please. All the students adore you. What about the Minister?"
"Lucius? I'm not sure. I know he's tried to reach out to him, especially when he took office. He regrets what happened just like I do."
"I remember them being rather close."
"They were. Lucius, Regulus, James, and Sirius were all thick as thieves. At least it seemed that way."
"Hmmmm."
"How he must have suffered." She released a long sigh. "That poor boy."
"Did he take custody of the Potter girl?"
"I suppose he must have. I didn't think about that. Rose was left with her uncle and his wife. She could still be there. I hope both are doing well, wherever they are."
They continued on to dessert and the discussion expanded to other previous students. After dinner, and after his rounds, Tom sat in his quarters nursing a glass of red wine, thinking about Harry Black and Rose Potter. About the fact that the man looked no older than thirty and was raising a nine-year old. How did they come to be a family? Was the child adopted? Kidnapped?
It was about a week later and the Great Hall was crowded and loud once again as it was the first day of classes after the October holiday.
"Holy Quidditch!" shouted someone from the Gryffindor table. "The Longbottoms were cured!" The quiet that followed was short lived as it seemed everyone scrambled for the nearest copy of the Prophet. The indignant screeches of the post owls echoed.
Tom sipped his coffee and heard Minerva's mumbling from the seat next to his.
She read to herself. "...incredible discovery….cruciatus cure….published first in Telesphoros by Mr Harry Black... Mastery in Healing Research from The Toci School of Medicine….native of Britain….living abroad...young talent...researching diseases...attributes findings to his muggle education….degrees with First Class Honors in Chemistry from the University College London…..spoke to a small private group….St Mungo's contract for the cure….successful recovery of long term Janus Thickey Ward patients Frank and Alice Longbottom." She stared at the smiling photo of Harry Black shaking hands with the Head Healer of St Mungo's.
Tom slipped the paper out of her grasp and started reading it himself but was quickly interrupted.
"You knew!" Minerva hissed at him.
"What?!" He put down the paper and looked at her.
She continued in a hushed tone that didn't carry to the students but was heard by the other teachers. "Last week, you...you…." She was red in the face. "You asked about the Blacks. And now look at this," she angrily tapped the front page of the Prophet. "He looks related to them. You knew."
"Is that true, Tom?" inquired Slughorn from Minevera's right. "Were you informed of this ahead of time?"
"Only the cure." Tom picked up the paper and quickly read the article. "Nothing of the rest."
"Then…" Whatever Slughorn was going to say was cut off.
"Why didn't you tell me?" demanded Minerva.
"You don't even know him. The last Black to attend Hogwarts was Sirius and he was sent through the veil."
"Why didn't you say anything about the cure then?"
"He told me not to."
"He?" asked Flitwick from his left.
"Mr Black," clarified Tom as he fixed himself another cup of coffee ignoring the stares.
"Harry Black informed you about his discovery and asked you to keep it a secret? I highly doubt that." Minerva was snippy.
"Whatever you say Minerva."
"Tom!"
"Fine. Yes. He did tell me."
"When!" Though at this point the conversation was between the two of them the rest of the table was invested.
"Last week, he came into the Apothecary while I was there. We exchanged polite pleasantries during which his discovery was mentioned. He asked that I keep the news to myself as it was to be made public shortly. Here we are."
"Why did he tell you? Not to be rude, but you don't come across as very friendly. At least to strangers. He didn't have to tell you anything." The woman was like a dog with a bone.
"At this point, Minerva, you know as much as I do."
"Hmm, perhaps I should send him an owl introducing myself," said Slughorn.
Tom gave the man a dubious glance.
Several days later, again at breakfast, the owls descended but this time there was no exclamation of surprise. At least not the students.
"That is disappointing," commented Slughorn as he placed the letter he finished reading in his pocket.
"What's the matter?" Flitwick asked.
"I sent an owl to Mr Black on Monday and received his response now."
"Oh?" Everyone at the table had their ears perked tuned into the conversation.
"I was hoping to have tea with him and discuss his recent achievements. I was most curious why he didn't attend Hogwarts and wanted to know more about his background. Sadly, he declined my invitation. How unfortunate."
Tom smirked behind his cup of coffee. "Indeed." He commented. He finished his drink and swiftly excused himself. Once he reached his office he removed the letter he received.
Professor Riddle,
I hope you are doing well. I wanted to thank you for keeping your word and not informing anyone of my meeting with St Mungo's. Professor Slughorn mentioned his surprise, along with the rest of the staff, that I entrusted you with the news. Now, I am aware we have never had any correspondence, but I find myself thinking that it wouldn't be a bad idea. So, my dear Professor, here we are, corresponding. At least I am. Feel free to burn this letter and ignore me. Though I would be remiss to not inform you that Rose has been talking about you constantly. I would be surprised if your ears haven't fallen off even from this distance.
Regards,
H.P.B
Tom found himself smiling at the note. He didn't even consider burning it. Instead, he opened the top right drawer to his desk and removed his writing instruments. He had a letter to respond to.