A/N: Triple update!
WARNING (PLEASE READ): I'm raising the age limit to 'M'.
This is a decision I've made due to the amount of violence that will be introduced, language of a vulgar nature and possible sexual themes, of which were foreshadowed prior in the novel with euphemisms to imply such things. If you don't want to read a very dark step into the twisted side of this beautiful earth, then this fic probably isn't for you. There will be molestation and implied rape, but no outright sex scenes (I'm a wimp). In England, the age of consent is sixteen, so if it isn't where you live, then this may be rated as under age/non consensual.
Thank you!
I gazed in wonder at the scene of havoc around me, relishing in the life that the alley had pumped into my system.
There was a huge multitude of shopping stores around me that looked ancient, reminding me of the vintage shops that Louise loved to talk about.
" First we are going to find you your uniform. We will be going to the second hand store." Like that, my good mood vanished and I glumly hung my head.
" Yes, sir." He grasped my elbow and steered me around the crowd, giving merry greetings to anyone that caught his eye. It wasn't long before we were standing before a store as dilapidated as its name- called simply 'The Second Hand Shop'. I hesitated before walking in, ushered in by little old witches who kept throwing robe after robe at me until Dumbledore informed them that I was an orphan looking for second hand school uniforms.
" Oh, poor dear!" One of them exclaimed. I almost flushed- it was apparent that I hated being pitied.
Perhaps I was the same before I lost my memories?
" Let me take that for you- oh, what a handsome face hiding behind that pile of clothes!" Another one said, pinching my cheek. Dumbledore had a small smile on his face and his eyes were twinkling- the traitorous old man evidently enjoyed seeing me being pushed about by old women.
" Thank you." I said, my voice unusually quiet.
" What a gentleman! Well, we'll find you the best clothes in here, yet!"
I was standing in front of a cracked mirror as the old ladies- of whom I later learned were called Ethel and Elizabette- serenaded me with compliments:
" Your hair compliments the outfit so well!"
" Oh, those chocolate eyes... If only there was a brown house colour!"
As it turned out, the best robes in here were moth-eaten and were last used twenty-seven years ago by a Gryffindor (they were the only up-to-date uniforms in the shop, besides one 'Myrtle's' school robe, a Ravenclaw who had died fifty years previous). Apparently, I looked amazing in the holey-elbowed, threadbare nightmare, but the only thing I could do was smile and agree with the ladies before ending up with a two-Galleon discount for my charm- along with the full wardrobe of two other robes, a pointed hat (which reminded me of the stereotypical Muggle ideas of wizards and witches) and a pair of protective dragon hide gloves. A wispy wintery cloak that looked more like a very old veil was also given to me, its silver clasp long since tarnished.
Oh well... I suppose it must count for something, right?
In addition to that, I'd also been given an expanded suitcase that could fit an elephant in there if I wanted it to.
" Wait, dearie!" Elizabette called as Dumbledore and I nearly passed the threshold. I turned around and was ready to scream at the woman (Dumbledore had a knowing look on his face that I just wanted to wipe off with a clean fist) before she informed me that I wasn't allowed to wear boots to Hogwarts. Dumbledore thanked her for the reminder and we entered the shop again for the second time.
" Here are the required footwear!" She held up a pair of destroyed shoes, black, scuffed and with mismatched laces. I cast a pleading look to Dumbledore, but he only looked at me with firm eyes.
" Your shoes are grey, Tom. Hogwarts only permits black school shoes. However, you may wear these shoes," He gestured at the grey lace-ups on my feet. " During the weekends."
A vase exploded.
" Oh dear, it must be that pesky poltergeist again- no, Elizabette, I'll fix it-"
" Thank you, Ethel."
" I shall NOT wear those shoes!" I shouted.
" Don't worry, Tommy boy, we'll find you another pair-" Ethel hurriedly tried to placate me, abandoning the shards of china on the floor.
" Do not call me 'Tommy boy'," I said, coldly. " I have enough thrown at me because of my lineage," I cast a look at Dumbledore, who only gave me a fathomless expression in return. " I do not need to have my name mutilated."
Just take the shoes and get out of there.
" Here's the money." I tossed fifty sickles onto the carpet and took the shoes from the floor. " Now leave me alone."
•••
" Your attitude disgusts me." Those were the first words Dumbledore had told me once we left the shop, glaring daggers at me. I only gave him the same icy look.
" Say that again, I happened not to hear you." I hissed, giving him a look that dared him to shout at me. The man only grasped my forearm with a gnarled hand, pulling me towards the shop 'Reused books'- another second hand shop.
" Perhaps you should be punished by your carer. I will inform him of your misbehaviour."
Ice plunged through my stomach.
Just like that, I collapsed to the ground.
" Please, no, no , no." I kept repeating 'No' over and over again. Dumbledore, confused, looked down at me.
He's going to hurt me when I get back.
He's going to complete what he'd started with.
" Please sir, I will do anything, just do not tell him." I whispered, clutching to Dumbledore's leg. A large crowd had amassed around us, watching the spectacle, but I didn't care. " Please."
" I can't let you get away with your manners toward the shop owners, Tom-"
" I will apologise. I will pay them. I will work for them for no wage at all- just please do not tell Mr Cole." I cut him off before looking up, tears falling down my cheeks.
A fair few mothers were shouting at no one in particular, loving Dumbledore too much to chastise him, but their instincts telling them to support the poor child begging at the Headmasters feet. Men only sighed and shook their heads, presumably familiar with corporal punishment in their world.
" Tom, get up." Dumbledore was pulling on his robes now, looking uncomfortable as I clutched them. " Tom, I won't tell him, just get up." I almost fainted with relief, Dumbledore catching me by the arms to get me up before I found control of my legs again and was aided toward the bookstore we were initially going towards.
I didn't see Dumbledore's shudder once I'd begged at his feet, reminded of a certain someone who forced his followers to kiss the hem of his own robes.
•••
We'd arrived at 'Reused Books' with the spending money plus the discount of two galleons (a quick check of the conversion rates with Dumbledore proved that two galleons was equivalent to ten pounds). We bought all the basic school books before Dumbledore hesitantly allowed me to go and choose any books I'd like to buy.
I walked sedately through the alleys, browsing through all of the tomes.
" Are you going to Hogwarts, too?" Someone asked. I didn't respond, thinking the person was talking to someone else. " Rude." He muttered afterwards. I turned around, flushed.
" I beg your pardon, I was not aware that you were addressing me." I said, embarrassed. The boy before me turned to face me with a smile.
" Oh, that's alright." He paused. " Are you a first year?" I made a quick interpretation of the phrase before deciding that first year probably meant year seven in the Muggle terms.
" Yes, I would happen to be new in Hogwarts. Which year are you in?" I made a quick survey of the boy before me and noted everything about him: his golden tan, his copper-brown hair, his smouldering dark eyes. Though it was an offhand thought, he was extremely attractive.
" Third year." He extended a hand. " Cedric Diggory, at your service." I smiled and took the hand with grace before remembering that I was supposed to be a boy. I gripped it harder.
" My name is Tom Riddle," I stopped for a moment, wondering whether I should say 'the second' or 'Junior', but remembered Dumbledore's grave reaction to my supposed father and opted not to give Cedric incentive to look for my relations. " First year. And I would be most pleased to be at your servitude also." Cedric raised an eyebrow at my language but didn't comment on it.
" So, whose taking you around? I mean, I don't think you're a halfblood- no offence, I just don't recognise your surname-"
" I have no idea what a halfblood is." I cut through Cedric's rambling (he is rather endearing).
" Muggleborn, then." He muttered. He raised his voice. " What's it like in your world?" He asked.
I paused.
" Different." I said, slowly. Cedric rolled his eyes.
" Of course it is. What I mean is what do you do there that we don't?" He smiled at me, his grin contagious. I smiled back at him, though I could tell that it looked more like a grimace (You will always be mine, do you hear me? Try and make a move toward Xavier or any other boys and I swear, I will do worse than cut your hair.).
" Our technology is far more advanced." I glanced at the people milling about outside of the dusty store window, not a car in sight. " We have garments that are more tailored for our age rather than our specific shape, so our clothing can be interchangeable." Cedric looked confused.
" What do you mean?"
" I mean our clothes is made for people of specific ages rather than shapes." I explained. Cedric looked like he understood, but he still looked rather bemused by the whole thing.
" But wouldn't the clothes fit you better if they were designed for you?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed into a reddish pout (stop that, I'm jealous of how rich the shade of your red lips are) before tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy.
Oh my God.
He is irresistible.
" Well," I gave a nervous cough, watching the boy lick his lips in an interested manner. I swallowed, wondering where all these thoughts were coming from.
They were only observations earlier!
" It is far more easier to make clothes for a specific age group rather than a specific measurement." I explained. " You can go to a shop and find the perfect fit for you, and if there are things that you want to adjust then you may do it with alterations using a thread and needle." Cedric had a grin on his face that looked like he was thinking things he shouldn't be.
" Do they do the same for underwear?" He asked.
I spluttered.
Cedric only laughed.
" TOM RIDDLE!" Dumbledore bellowed- and I nearly jumped a foot in the air. A hand gripped my arm like a vice and I turned around, terrified out of my wits. Cedric also looked like he'd rather be elsewhere, but he also appeared like he'd never seen Dumbledore angry in all the years he'd been in Hogwarts.
" H-headmaster." He stammered. Dumbledore didn't respond, only looking at me with flames in his eyes.
" I told you," He said, voice filled with an angry calm. " To look for books. Did I tell you that you can associate with others?"
" S-sir, I do not-"
" Are you not aware of the fact that you are a confirmed sociopath and manipulator?" He hissed.
Cedric looked at me as if though he'd never seen me before.
No wonder he's so angry... Robert must have told him that to make sure I didn't associate with others for fear of me 'harming or killing' them.
In all honesty, I didn't blame the Headmaster for being angry since he probably thought I was trying to manipulate Cedric for some sort of nefarious plot. However, that didn't mean I wanted him screaming in my face- rather, I wanted us to be able to maintain a civil relationship between us and even build up some trust.
" I thought I could trust you." Cedric accused.
Cedric, no.
Please, not you too.
" Cedric, please, I-"
" Don't talk to me!" He shouted, storming off in the other direction, shaking with anger. I looked down, my heart shattering into a million pieces.
" Choose your books." Dumbledore released me, pointing at the books in the aisle, proudly proclaiming their quality with leather-bound covers. " And don't you dare talk to anyone." He looked like he'd calmed down since Cedric had left in betrayal, as if though I wouldn't be able to harm him.
" Yes sir." I said for the thousandth time that day, ducking my head with glum, bitter resentment. I reached for the nearest books to me- 'The Ultimate Guide on How to Play the Magical Harp- Edition of 1820', 'Hogwarts: A History' and 'The Encyclopaedia of Magic'. I no longer felt any desire to crack open a page-bound spine and absorb all of the information within- my jaundiced soul seeking respite from continuous abuse.
Physical, psychological and emotional.
I turned around, my head bowed, though I could literally feel Dumbledore's raised eyebrow on the harp book. We journeyed through the aisles and made it to the till, my three books already in hand and Dumbledore levitating all of my school books without a wand in sight.
" This must be a special student, Mr Dumbledore, you don't usually bring any in since you became Headmaster." The till keeper commented, taking my two galleons before directing his attention to me. " That will be a knut for change." He dropped a pathetic looking copper coin into my hand, nowhere near as large or magnificent as the galleons I'd been holding only moments before.
" Oh yes, this is a very special student." Dumbledore only smiled at the shopkeeper, his eyes twinkling. " Goodbye, Mr Dane." He said, before he could inquire further about me. Dumbledore placed a hand on the small of my back, leading me towards the exit.
" Where will we be going next?" I asked, quietly. Dumbledore gave me a quick glance, apparently already having forgotten my encounter with Cedric (I could swear my heart skipped a beat).
" We will be going to collect your potions kit, your telescope and your stationery from the returned items. Afterwards we will be collecting your wand from Mr Ollivander." He responded, stiffly. I nodded and Dumbledore slipped his hand in mine, adamant that I would not wander off again.
We walked toward the apothecary, the most distinctive thing out of the dreary building being the slugs in the jar in the store front. I felt a little ill, thinking of the wizards who down potions with ingredients like these.
I sighed.
This was going to take a long time.
•••
We walked out of the astronomy store with a telescope in one hand, and a pewter cauldron filled with glass phials in the other.
The only thing to buy now was a wand.
We made our way towards the only wand shop in the alley, with the Headmaster's muscles tightening with trepidation.
My wand was the deciding factor about who I was.
Sir pushed the door open and a little bell tinkled, signalling our arrival. At first, there appeared to be no one in the store, but Dumbledore called out.
" Garrick!" He exclaimed. A grey head popped out from the stores of wands, his balding head containing only colonies of shimmering white hair. His eyes were silver and were set with wrinkles. His clothing was distinctly Georgian, centuries out of fashion.
" Mr Dumbledore. The wand you hold is not one I'd provided, is it? I specifically remember giving you an oak wood and phoenix tail feather core wand. Approximately fourteen inches, am I correct?" Mr Ollivander asked. I was dumbfounded.
How on earth did this man remember all of this?
Did he have eidetic memory?
" Indeed. This wand, however, is one of legend." Dumbledore answered jovially. Garrick gave it a passing glance.
" The Elder Wand?"
" What is the-"
" Yes." I frowned, annoyed at being spoken over. " Very much so. We are here for this lad." Dumbledore pushed me forwards with his right hand. Mr Ollivander examined me over his spectacles, his eyebrows rising in recognition.
" Merlin." He whispered. He looked up at Dumbledore, his jolly demeanour gone and replaced with a grave expression. " This wouldn't happen to be?-"
" This is Tom Mavolo Riddle," Dumbledore placed a hand on my shoulder, " The second." I was filled with conflict at Mr Ollivander's dawning realisation of who I was and his reaction.
Surely my father couldn't have been that bad?
However, he only looked from me to Dumbledore and back to me again, his eyes filling with dread.
" There will be no need for a trial." He said, tiredly. He leaned down underneath the counter and withdrew planks of wood in quick succession, all of which had differing colours. They ranged from bone-white to the darkest ebony. He then turned around and took out boxes from behind him, the undecorated containers revealing nothing of their contents. However, when Mr Ollivander faced us and uncovered them, they showed to hide stores and stores of different strings, feathers and hairs.
I couldn't take my eyes off them- I could swear that the feather was iridescent and that the whitest hair had sparkled, but some of the artefacts looked more sinister. The strings looked suspiciously like the sinews of a heart.
" Hover your wand hand over the woods and we'll see which ones react best or worst with you." I lifted my right hand, presuming he meant writing hand, but realised that I'd never written before. For all I knew, I could be left handed.
I lifted both hands before I knew it and levitated them a few inches on top of an ash wood wand. Both my hands felt a tingle, though it was stronger in my right than my left, signalling that I was ambidextrous, but my right hand was the dominant limb. However, I kept both of them up.
" He's ambidextrous. Just like his father." Dumbledore muttered.
The wood beneath my hands did nothing more than make them tingle. Disappointed, I moved onto the next one: apple.
" Apple is known for people of high moral values..."
" I'll keep an eye one him in Hogwarts."
Again, I moved onto Aspen. It didn't do anything, like the previous two.
Things moved on like that until I reached Alder, which slid out and rocketed into the shelves behind the shop owner, piercing a clean, square hole through the wood containers.
" Alder! Known for helpful, kind, considerate people!" Ollivander shouted over the sound of splintering wood- he was beginning to look terrified. He pointed towards the bone-white wood right near the end of the line. " Get him near that one!"
Dumbledore paled.
When I didn't move, Dumbledore spoke.
" Tom, do as he says." He ordered, his voice shaking slightly. I swallowed as inaudibly as I could before making my way towards the white wand- yew, after the tree of death- and placed my hands just an inch above it.
A shimmering.
I lifted the plank into my hands.
" I was right! Yew, I tell you! It's his father's wand! It's He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's wand!"
" Wait, Garrick." Dumbledore moved towards me.
The wood was starting to tremor in my hands.
It shot straight up and out of my hands, hitting into the ceiling and ricocheting off into the walls before landing onto the floor, flipping away from me like a fish out of the water. Dumbledore looked down at me and met my eyes, unreadable emotions flickering within those periwinkle orbs.
It wasn't the one for me.
" And finally," Dumbledore said, grasping my arms and placing them over the last remaining plank of wood. " Holly."
The plank of wood shot up into my waiting hand.
It felt right. Like it was part of me.
Utter silence followed.
Ollivander seemed to have calmed, his shaking hands becoming stable. He almost looked embarrassed at his outburst.
" W-what do I do now?" I stammered. Ollivander swallowed audibly.
" Yew, rigid, phoenix tail feather core, thirteen and a half inches. That was your father's wand. I think," He walked over to the box of tail feather and pushed it in front of me. " That you may be the match for the only holly-phoenix wand I have here."
I placed the holly plank on the counter and lifted my hands before my eyes widened- the feathers below my hands was glowing a crimson red, almost appearing as if though they were on fire.
" Merlin." Ollivander breathed. He turned and bustled away into the interior of the shop, reaching for a box that I couldn't quite see. He returned to the counter a few moments later, a slim box in hand. " Holly, eleven inches, nice and supple. But most importantly of all, with a phoenix tail feather, the twin core of You-Know-Who's wand." He passed me the wand after carefully taking it out of its box. He cautiously avoided touch with me, passing the wand by its length.
The moment I had it in my hands, that was when I knew I'd found my wand.
I felt like I'd been given water after weeks of wandering, parched, in the Saharan Desert. This wand that I held in my hand... It gave me such indescribable relief that I couldn't even put into words.
I waved it slightly and a brilliant shower of gold and silver erupted from the tip, lighting the room with the power of a billion stars.
" This is it." I whispered, bringing the wand down, clasping it to my chest. " This is my wand."
" I'm afraid not." Dumbledore cut through, taking the wand off me.
Something tore from inside me.
" Sir!-"
" This wand will be given to Harry Potter." He said, firmly. I looked up, shocked and confused, tears in my eyes.
" Why?" I asked, trying not to let the salt water spill over my cheeks, keeping my gaze firmly behind Dumbledore's shoulder so he couldn't see how close I was to breaking. " This is the only thing that isn't second hand that I can have for myself- my clothing and shoes are that of a pauper's and yet you insist upon getting me a new wand... Why are you taking the only thing that is designed specifically for myself away from me?"
Dumbledore looked away, his own optics filled with turmoil and regret.
" Mr Ollivander." He handed the wand back to the silent man.
" No." I whispered, watching my director of magic- the only thing that conducted my abilities into my surroundings- being given away for the sake of someone else.
All of my luxuries- and now my necessities- taken away from me and gifted to another boy.
I could barely hear the exchange of words after that.
" Yew... Second reactive... Of course..." The shuffling of wood. " Phoenix... Finished... Dragon heartstring?... Unicorn hair." The tinkling of money being handed over. The sound of footsteps on well-worn flooring. A wooden, plain box presented before my eyes.
" This is a yew wand, the only wood besides holly that worked for you," Yes, and rejected me too. " with a Unicorn tail hair core, eleven inches long. Very flexible."
As soon as it touched my hands, it burnt them with some sort of lightning bolt.
I tried my best not to cry again- I could physically feel the blisters about to form in my hands.
Perhaps in another world I would have the courage to scream at Dumbledore- at the boy who was gaining from my misfortune- at the whole bloody world.
And maybe, in another world, the people in it would actually care.
•••
Fifty Years Prior:
In another time, another place, an eleven year old boy entered a dormitory after his Christmas Holiday and the death of his sister before happening on a stick that lay on the bottom bunk. He picked it up, cold calculation in his eyes as they surveyed the holly length of the wand, stroking it reverently- as if though it would bring his sister back from death.
But he wasn't mourning.
Because his eyes were red.
" Holly, eleven inches." He whispered as he described her wand. " Phoenix tail feather core. Supple. Twin core to my own wand. One and the same, and yet so different." He closed his eyes. " But do I really want to admit that?" He laughed- an evil, frightening voice that many would come to fear in five short decades. " That I failed in turning her heart as black as my own, as cold as ice?"
He smirked.
" You may have gotten away from me, Katherine Merope Riddle, without having to spill blood. But know this- I am killing in your name. Every single murder- every soul I rip from a new body," He dropped the wand with a wooden clatter. " It will all be a war cry because of your death." His eyes looked at the wand at his feet. " A masculine looking wand, but then you had the taste of boyhood, had you not?" He chuckled humourlessly before picking it back up. " I will give this to Ollivander before obliviating him. Perhaps the next person who comes to be compatible with it would be as worthy as I thought you were to join me on my path to greatness." His ruby eyes were trained on the ceiling, but in truth he was looking far past it, at the sky where he thinks Kathy's soul resides and the boy inside of him screams in anguish, locked inside of the maniac's mind and never to come out unless it was to fight for dominance- a fleeting battle as Voldemort won all the time.
He thought of Charlus' death- abrupt and clean, like his relationship was with Katherine.
Alphard would 'vanish', like the way the coward used to leave his meetings, refusing to have anything to do with murder.
Abraxus would be infected by a disease- Dragon Pox- like the Malfoy heir was infected by his devotion to his sister.
And Lily. Spared, just because she was the only one who remembered her.
He imagined a horrified girl's face, with blood at her hands and her wings in tatters- a fallen angel, a disgrace for what her brother had done in the mortal world.
Voldemort smirked at the twisting of the religious teachings he was brought up with.
Delicious.
" And you, Katherine Merope Riddle, will weep in heaven as I kill everyone you love and do not know. One by one."
A/N: And, here's the last of the triple update! Phew, stressful! But worth it :)
~ Annika
EDIT: I've changed the parts where it says 'Tia Marge' into 'Katherine Merope'. Hope it makes sense now!