Tom Riddle sat in his study thinking back over his son's life. Today, Tom returned from his first year at Eton School for Boys, an age-old institution every Riddle had attended since its opening. It was a proud moment for both he and his parents. His son was growing up. Of course, he'd known for awhile that Tom had changed from the continually happy little boy he had been once. While the death of Cecilia had stopped the open spreading of rumors, many people suggested he was behind it, he was still aware of the whispering that went on around him. The first week of school, Little Tom came home in tears because of his classmates teasing him. He'd eventually spoken with the children's parents, but it didn't change anything really. He'd talked to his son, telling him to ignore it, reminding him that he was Riddle and therefore better than all of them, and it did help him appear to have a thicker skin. Tom had been so happy when his son brought home a friend, but it was his only friend. His reputation prevented him from having any real kind of a social life. It had been his hope that at Eton, Tom might have escaped the rumors, but apparently not. Before him sat a letter from the headmaster. Apparently Tom experienced some problems from the other students and, more disturbingly, strange, unexplainable occurrences arose concerning those students. That line made Tom's blood crawl. He'd never come across Tom doing anything weird after the incident with the rocks, but what if...
"Tom! He's here!" his mother called up to him. He pushed aside his worry, overjoyed to see his son again. They would talk later. He went downstairs to find his mother checking his father's coat as if the Prime Minister was arriving, not their grandson.
"Mary, you're being ridiculous," he drawled, rolling his eyes at Tom with a good-natured smile. Tom shrugged sympathetically and headed out to meet the car. Tom Jr., now 11 years old, swiftly stepped out as the engine died. He embraced his father and Tom was shocked to see how much he'd grown since the spring break. He was up to his shoulder now. He was going to be very tall and exceedingly handsome, a factor that would help him later in life.
"How was the trip?" he asked as Tom stepped back.
"It was uneventful," he replied smoothly. "What's wrong?" Tom Jr. had a way of reading people. Tom Sr. placed his hand on his son's shoulder with a refined sigh.
"We'll talk later," he said as cheerfully as possible. Tom Jr.'s face grew dark as he searched his face and Tom had the feeling his soul was being investigated.
"I was justified," he told him mysteriously before heading in the house. Tom was completely stunned as he turned around to follow Tom Jr. into the house, but quickly ended his thoughts. It was a probable guess if it got the headmaster's attention. With a slight shrug to himself, he followed the boy into the manor.
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Tom arrived just as mother was finishing fawning over how much her dear grandson had grown in the last few months. Most people would be surprised to learn that Mary Riddle was actually quite a dramatic person. At the age of 13, she'd attempted to run away from home to become an actress, but her father intercepted her. After months of confinement, she had accepted the fact that as a young lady, acting was completely unacceptable and applied her talents to manipulating the blue-blooded society around her. To the rest of the world, she appeared to be a vivacious, but refined woman who had an air of mystery about her. It was one of the reasons Thomas Riddle had been so attracted to her, which completely surprised Tom.
Thomas Riddle was perhaps the exact opposite of his wife. While he was not dull, he was neither spontaneous or emotional. He was always seen as a very level-headed person with practical expectations in life. He was not a dreamer at all, and due to this acceptance of reality, many people saw him as being rather cold. Tom was secretly glad that Tom Jr. took more after his grandmother. His life, while potentially marked with disappointment, would never be dull.
Mary let go of the grinning child, who was too old to feel comfortable with his grandmother's doting, but who still appreciated the attention. His grandfather gave him a curt, gentlemanly handshake and presented him with a box. It was a family tradition that after the first year at Eton the young man earned his first set of real cuff-links. Even to this day, he wore his. Tom had been the one to design the boy's. While his were simple diamond studs, he felt that Tom deserved a reminder of who he was. With all the gossiping and insults, he wondered if Tom ever began to question his place as a Riddle, and so he had set his initials into miniature versions of the family crest. As Tom opened the box, his father knew he did the right thing. Tom's eyes sparked with pride and he even smiled a bit bigger. He immediately removed his old, childish set and placed his new cuff-links on his shirt sleeves.
"Thank you. These are magnificent," he told his grandparents. Mary's eyes were glittering with pride.
"Don't thank us. Your father picked them out," she told him. Tom nodded and gave his father an appreciative nod.
"Yes, well, I imagine you want to unpack and rest before dinner. I think you have a half an hour," Tom told the boy. With a polite word, Tom Jr. excused himself and left for his room, the butler trailing after him with his trunk.
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Later that night, Tom finally worked up the nerve to talk to his son about the headmaster's reports. The door was open, but he still knocked anyways. Tom Jr. was laid out on his bed with a thick tome, and glanced over to the top at the sound. His father walked in and sat on the desk chair across from him.
"Headmaster Lincoln told me you had issues with your fellow students and that there were some... unusual occurrences that arose with those students. Do you have anything to say?" Tom Jr. gave him that look again as he responded with what he said earlier. Tom sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair. Why couldn't this be simple? "What does that mean?"
"They attacked me first. They shamed our family name, spread lies about my mother, and therefore I was justified in defending myself. I didn't physically do anything to them. I simply... shook them up a bit."
"That's not what Professor Lincoln said. He claims you were responsible for Timothy's broken arm, the destruction of John's book bag, and, while there is no proof, the death of Paul's cat!" Tom Jr. gave him such a look of innocence, Tom instantly knew the headmaster was wrong. He knew his son.
"Father, listen to yourself. I can't even kill a spider, much less a cat. Do you think I would ever do things like that?" There was such an accusing note in his voice, that Tom felt disgusted with himself.
"No, of course not. I'm sorry for suspecting you. However, you have such great potential to be an outstanding politician that I would hate to see your future ruined by these false accusations. Since you do need to be more forceful with the general public, most will not see your gentle side, so you need to be careful Tom. Do you understand me?" he still lectured. Tom Jr. grimaced at the mention of his future. "What was that look for?"
"Forgive me, but I don't believe I want to go into politics. It just seems so chaotic and corrupt. I hated learning about it honestly," he confessed. Tom's best marks had been in history and oration, not that anything else had been bad at all. His professors had simply raved about how bright he was and how successful he was going to be.
"Well, I think you should consider it, but you do have plenty of time. And if you should decide to go into business or something else, that'll be fine. It's just, you could really make a name for yourself in politics," Tom pressed, trying to draw on something that would really interest the boy. Tom Jr. simply shrugged and turned back to his book.
"Perhaps, though as you said, I have plenty of time to decide. Is that all?" he practically dismissed his father. Tom shook his head as he stood.
"No, I guess not. I'm glad you're home." Tom smiled and nodded, but did not remove his eyes from his book.
"It's nice to be home too." His father was relieved that he sounded sincere about it. His biggest fear was his son hating him.
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Tom watched as his father left and sighed as he turned back to his book. It was a good thing he was such a good liar, because the truth would have been far to hard to explain. It was true what Professor Lincoln wrote. He had been responsible for all of those things, though in his defense, he hadn't physically done anything to them. He didn't know how or why, but he could make things happen that he couldn't explain. If he thought about something and focused on that desire, it would come true. He'd realized this ability when he was five, and had started developing it at the age of seven. But it wasn't even just the ability to do things. He also knew things, such as the topic of the previous conversation, and snakes could talk to him. The first time a Gardner snake had spoke to him, he'd thought he was going crazy, but he knew now that he truly could talk to snakes. There had been times when he'd considered talking to his father about this, but he knew that would end terribly. His father was highly religious and would immediately assume the devil was possessing him. He remember how his father had reacted to the flying rocks. He didn't need to worry about talking snakes as well.
However, his father could not be completely unaffected by his abilities. It was because of these powers that he didn't want to do something as ordinary as politics. He was special and wanted to really make a difference. He would make a name for himself, but not in the way his father planned. No, he would come up with something so extraordinary that he would be more respected than His Majesty! Then no one would dare talk about him in a negative way. No one would ever claim that Tom Marvolo Riddle was a beggar's child thrown abandoned to a rich father.
A/N: Well, huge jump in time. It's the start of a story so I'm rather impatient. I'm trying to decide where the next chapter should take place. Probably going to make a smaller time jump, but one nonetheless. So what did you think? I hope it wasn't too bad. I had a plan for this and then I lost it and started writing, found it, and it just couldn't be fixed really. Gah. Well, please review! Thank you for the support so far!