Heirs of the Founders
Chapter 19
Mr. Riddles Lost Love
Tom talked with his uncle during their stay in Azkaban. There really was nothing else to do. Morfin wasn't always in the mood to speak to his half-blood nephew, but eventually boredom took him and he would tell him all about their family. Tom was not impressed with half he heard. In Tom's opinion, Morfin was right where he belonged.
"You hurt my mother," said Tom, he decided to keep the conversation in parseltongue so the other prisoners could not hear what he was saying. Not only that, Morfin would only talk back to Tom if he spoke in parseltongue. Parseltongue was Morfin's first language, after all.
"Ar, and she had it coming," Morfin muttered. "Dishonored us, she did and robbed us too. Where is Slytherins' locket?"
"She probably died wearing it," Tom said with a shrug. "But that doesn't matter. You had a hand in my mother's death. It wasn't just my father leaving her. I know you and Marvolo mistreated her. You abused her and ridiculed her. Why did Marvolo favor you over my mother?"
"Because she was a dirty, rotten squib," said Morfin. "Father went through all that trouble to get her a wand and he taught her all he knew, but she couldn't even boil water."
"I don't think her skills were that bad," frowned Tom. "Why didn't you get her a Kwikspell teacher?"
"We had no money for Kwikspell," said Morfin, "let alone Hogwarts. But father insisted that he was a better teacher than those stuffy professors at the school. Kwikspell teachers are even worse."
"I beg to differ," said Tom coolly. "The professors were excellent. There were some I didn't really care for, but they knew their subjects well. And I happen to know a Kwikspell teacher. She's great."
Morfin did not say anything. Tom pressed on to keep the conversation going.
"Tell me, Uncle, what did you do to land yourself in Azkaban?" he inquired.
Morfin growled. "That muggle. Your father, came to my door shouting about a letter. I cut him and someone stopped me. She was dressed like a muggle but she knew spells. Turned me into a monkey she did."
"What did she look like?" Tom inquired.
"Blond hair, blue eyes," he said. "I don't think she was a pureblood."
"Serena," Tom said with a smile and he started howling with laughter.
"What is so funny, half-blood?" Morfin demanded.
"That witch that stopped you," said Tom, "is Serena Moon. She's a Kwikspell teacher, the one I was just talking to you about. Think that Kwikspell teachers aren't qualified magic users? I wished I had seen it." He laughed again. "Serena's got a strong hand in transfiguration. Very like her to transfigure you into a monkey. Of course, it wouldn't have been so hard—since you look so much like one."
Morfin glared at Tom and Tom glared right back. He wasn't afraid of him, only repulsed. He couldn't understand how he was related to the psychopath.
"She caught me off guard," said Morfin. "I could've stopped her easily."
As if voicing her name was a summoning charm, Serena came into the dusty and dark prison. She ignored Morfin and went to Tom's cell. Tom smiled.
"We were just talking about you," said Tom. "So...you turned my uncle into a monkey?"
"Well, yes," Serena said coyly. "First time I used transfiguration on a person. I just got so angry..."
"It's all right, Serena," said Tom. "I'm afraid I missed it. You've always been great at transfiguration."
Morfin muttered a derogative toward Serena in parseltongue.
"Don't you talk about her that way!" Tom snarled.
Serena gasped and jumped back. She hadn't seen Tom speak in parseltongue since the fight in the Chamber of Secrets.
"Tom!" she gasped.
"Sorry," he said, reluctantly looking at her. "He just called you a bad name. I told him to stop."
"Oh," Serena said with a sigh. "It's my fault he's here. I shouldn't have given your father the letter."
"What are you talking about, Serena?" Tom inquired. "My uncle is supposed to be here. Trust me, and I wanted you to take the letter to my father."
"I know," said Serena, "but, we ran into some trouble. Your father thought he wrote it and I had to explain who I was. He was...quite rude to say the least. I regretted, just a little a bit, about saving him."
"I'm sure he was," said Tom. "I'm sorry but I suspected he wouldn't be too friendly. He did leave my mother before I was born, after all."
"I tried to get him to empathize," Serena told Tom fervently. "See how hard it was for your mother, but no. He didn't care that she had a terrible life." She looked at Morfin in his cell. "I explained that she was desperate to get out and he even suggested that she could've killed herself!" Serena's hand tightened on the bar and shook her head. "I almost modified his memory, but I didn't want him to forget you. I guess it was the best way of teaching him a lesson."
Tom put his hand on Serena's. "Well, you did better than I would've done. I probably would have killed him."
Serena looked at Tom. He shrugged.
"I've thought about it many times," said Tom. "Of course you couldn't put it past me. I would've killed him, using Morfin's wand and let him take the fall for it."
"But, seeing as we're both here right now," said Tom. "It does not matter. What else did you say to my father?" Tom inquired.
"I just told him I wouldn't bother him again,"said Serena. "Unless of course, you want to write another letter to him."
"Not now, no," Tom shook his head. "Perhaps I will when I get out. I can mail it by muggle post myself. I don't want to put you in that situation again. Besides, my father might recognize you."
"I'm a metamorphamagus remember?" Serena said, changing her blue eyes to a soft green at will.
"Well, I know I can't stop you," said Tom. "So, if you see a way to help my father 'see the light' I suppose, then that is all right. I know I can't approach him myself, whether I was out of here or not. If I decide to write him a letter before leaving Azkaban, you can give it to him. Just be a little careful of how he gets it."
Serena nodded. "You know...your father is so much like you."
"He is?" Tom raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure if he should feel proud or insulted. He did get his good looks from his father, but what else did his father instill in him?
"Yeah," Serena said, "you both are pretty stubborn and impossible."
Tom laughed. "Yes...I have been like that."
"But you look a lot like him," said Serena.
"Yes, that's what Morfin says," Tom agreed. "I'm glad about that."
"Me too," Serena said. "But I sensed something else about your dad that reminds me of you."
"What's that?"
"A longing for peace," said Serena. "I sense that same thing about you."
Tom exhaled and nodded. "Yeah, it's hard to find peace in this place."
"Just one more year, Tom," Serena insisted. "and you'll be free. You're doing very well now, so don't give up, please."
"Don't worry," said Tom, "I'm sure I've got a better chance than my uncle. I have to thank you, Serena."
"Tom," Serena said, trying to get him to stop.
"No, Really, if you haven't been coming here to visit me, writing me those letters, encouraging me—I'd be no saner than that sick man in there." Tom nodded at his uncle.
Serena blushed and bit her lip. "Y'you're welcome."
They stared at each other for a moment. Serena didn't want to go and Tom didn't want her to. He did not notice his uncle sitting in the cell across from him, shooting daggers with his looks. He blocked out the dementors and the happy feelings they were sucking away. The dementors could hover around him, drain out every joyful memory from Tom but they couldn't take away the angel that stood in front of him. As long as he had Serena, he knew he would always have some happiness. Tom did not deserve it. He had done so many bad things, thought of doing even worsethings. Sometimes he still thought about being Voldemort, murdering his father among so many others. But when Serena's face entered his mind, he forgot all about his previous motives. She was all that mattered now. He wanted to prove to the ministry, to Hogwarts, but to Serena most of all, that he could change. He was going to focus all his energy to doing just that.
"Ar, what rubbish," muttered Morfin. "You're staring at that muggle lover like your squib mother looked at that filthy muggle father of yours."
"Shut up, Uncle," Tom muttered back, still staring at Serena.
"What?" Serena asked.
"He's just being crazy again," Tom explained, "and I told him to stop."
"I'm glad you're here," said Serena, "because otherwise I wouldn't know what he was saying. He was saying all sorts of stuff in parseltongue when I was hexing him. I wish I had a parseltongue guide or something."
"You were hexing him too?"
"Yes," said Serena.
"What sort of hexes did you use?"
"Body bind, sneezing, dancing...things like that."
Tom grinned. "I wish I have seen it."
"I don't know what came over me," said Serena. "I saw him attacking your father and I just snapped. I had to make him stop somehow. I could've just stunned him but I didn't think that was enough."
"Don't feel bad," said Tom. "You probably taught him a much needed lesson."
"Yeah," said Serena and locked eyes with him again. "I er, should probably go. I have papers to grade."
"I'd like to sit in one of your classes," said Tom.
"You would?" Serena said, surprised.
"Yeah, I bet it'd be nice," said Tom.
"All right then," said Serena.
"Oh, Serena, before you go," said Tom, tightening his fingers over her small hand. "Could you leave some parchment and a quill with me?"
"You've changed your mind about writing your father already?" Serena inquired.
"No," said Tom. "I just feel like writing...something. I've been writing in the dust on the walls lately."
Serena took out a notebook of parchment, a bottle of black ink and a quill from her purse. They were all new. Tom shifted though the paper and gave her a quizzical look.
"Did you know?" he asked.
"Know what?" she said innocently.
"Me wanting to write?" he said. "The parchment notebook and everything is brand new."
She shrugged, "well, I guess I should buy them new just incase you wanted to write another to your letter. Perhaps you would have more to say to him now that Morfin's here."
"I see," said Tom.
"I'll be back in a fortnight," Serena promised.
"Bye, Serena."
"Bye, Tom."
Serena stepped back from his door, looked at Morfin and muttered, "Mr. Gaunt," before being on her way.
"See, Uncle,Kwikspell teachers aren't all that useless," Tom said to his uncle as he watched Serena leave.
Morfin did not reply. He only grunted and shook his head. Tom sat down under the window of his cell. There was several more hours of daylight left, plenty of time for him to write a few thoughts down.
--
Serena came to Little Hangleton once again before her biweekly visit with Tom. Instead of coming to the Riddle house, she sat in The Hanged Man and spoke to some of the townspeople. She asked them questions of the Riddles. It turned out that the Riddles were not the favorite people of Little Hangleton. They all found them rude and snobbish. To risk being recognized by Tom Riddle, Serena went as an old pudgy woman with gray hair. When she saw that the man was old, she thought it would increase her chances of getting information.
"Have you met the Riddles?" inquired the owner of the pub as he refreshed Serena's drink.
"Only the son," said Serena. "Briefly. My daughter knew him from school. She used to fancy him. So where the Riddles always like this?"
"As long as I can remember," replied the pub owner. "I suppose the wealth just got to their heads."
"The son, Tom," said Serena, "mentioned something about being in love once."
"Ah, yes," said the pub owner. "He was courting Cecilia Roberts about twenty years ago. Then he just left with Mr. Gaunt's daughter."
"Hmm, may explain why he didn't fancy my daughter," Serena said. "But she's happy now with another man. But this Mr. Gaunt...who is he?"
"Oh, he died some years back," muttered the manager. "He was worse than the Riddles in fact. He and his two children lived in a shack. Crazy, mean man. The son wasn't right in the head. The daughter though..never heard her make such a ruckus. She hardly showed her face in town. Not a looker, mind you. Perhaps she was ashamed of her lack of beauty."
"So, tell me about this Cecilia Roberts," Serena stirred her drink. "What happened to her?"
"She got married sometime after Tom Riddle returned to the village," he answered. "She lives with her husband outside of town. She married Fred Haverly. Tom tried to go back to her, but she wouldn't take him."
Serena finished her drink. Now she had something to go on. Cecilia Roberts. She had to get a look at this girl and perhaps talk to her. Perhaps if she saw her, she could persuade Cecilia to speak with Tom Riddle. If that did not work, well, Serena was after all a metamorphamagus.
"Thank you for your time, Jim," Serena said with a smile. "And the drink. Best cocktail I've had in years."
"Anytime, Leslie," said Jim. Serena figured she might as well disguise her name too.
Serena tracked down Cecilia Roberts, now Cecilia Haverly with no trouble at all. She only needed the telephone and address directory. As she walked to Cecilia's home in Surrey, she thought and rethought her story in her mind. Serena was a bespectacled woman with short black curly hair. She was thin and tall. On her shoulder was a pink handbag with a note pad sticking out. Serena reminded herself that she was Rose Tavers, a writer. Her intention of visiting Cecilia was research for a story.
"Seems good enough," Serena told herself before knocking on Cecilia's door. "It's all I've got to go on."
A beautiful tall and blond woman answered the door. Her hair was up in a bun and her eyes were big and blue. She was wearing a red apron over a blue dress.
"Yes?" she said.
"Mrs. Cecilia Haverly?" Serena said.
"Correct."
"Pleased to meet you," said Serena. "I am Rose Tavers—a young writer. I grew up in Little Hangleton and I've heard the love story between you and Tom Riddle."
Mrs. Haverly laughed. "Love story? Not quite if you ask me."
"I know," said Serena. "That is why I am here, Mrs. Haverly. I came to get your side of the story. I find it all fascinating, you are in love a man and he just runs up and leaves with a homely girl. He realizes his mistake, comes crawling back but you have already moved on. Mr. Riddle however, lives with his shame."
"Does he now?" Mrs. Haverly looked pleased. "Well, as he should. Tom Riddle was a shallow man." Mrs. Haverly looked behind her and back at Serena. "So you want a story do you?"
"If that isn't too much trouble," Serena said. "If it's a bad time I could..."
"Oh, no," said Mrs. Haverly. "My husband is actually at work and my children are at school. You came at a good time."
Mrs. Haverly opened the door for Serena and asked her to sit down as she went to make tea.
"I do enjoy romance novels," said Mrs. Haverly from the kitchen. "Preferably the classics from Jane Austin."
"Oh, I like those too," said Serena.
"If this book becomes a success," said Mrs. Haverly, "can I ask you to not ot use my real name?"
"Absolutely, Mrs. Haverly," Serena said. "All the names will be changed."
"Thank you," said Mrs. Haverly, returning to the sitting room with a tray holding tea and biscuit. "I do not want others to recognize it as me."
"Have you told others about your romance with Tom Riddle?" Serena inquired.
Mrs. Haverly shook her head. "No, I tried to put it behind me. Only the townspeople and my parents know the story. Of course, I have never asked my husband Fred about the women he loved. I shouldn't tell him about my men, right? Still...it would be nice to tell someone. Get it off my chest you know? Do you take sugar?" Mrs. Haverly poured Serena a cup of tea and picked up the sugar tongs.
"Yes, two please," said Serena.
"Cream?"
"Just a bit," replied Serena as she took off her handbag and removing her note pad and pen. She set them down on the coffee table. She took a sip of her tea, thanked Mrs. Haverly and asked her how and when she met Tom Riddle. Serena jotted down notes in between sips of tea. She found Cecilia and Tom's story quite interesting.
"Love at first sight?" Serena asked.
"Hardly," said Mrs. Haverly. "I was more attracted to his money to be honest with you, but what girl wouldn't want a wealthy man?"
Serena nodded for him to continue. Mrs. Haverly looked ten years younger as she restated her relationship with Tom Riddle. Though Tom Riddle had acted snooty to other villagers, Tom Riddle was very sweet with Cecilia. It turned out that Tom Riddle was courting her for a few months.
"What do you know about the Gaunts?" Serena asked.
"The Gaunts?"
"Tom ran off with the daughter?" she said.
"Oh, yes," Mrs. Haverly frowned. "No, I never met the Gaunts, but I did see where they lived. It was such an eyesore. I couldn't believe that anyone actually lived there! I found out about him running away with the girl just weeks later. It was the strangest thing."
"Did he contact you again?" asked Serena.
"He did," muttered Mrs. Haverly. "Several times. He came to me claiming that the girl conned him into marrying her. He said he wanted to be with me but I wouldn't take me back, not knowing he was with her. I was afraid of catching a disease, to tell you the truth."
"I heard that Merope—the Guant girl—had a child with him."
Mrs. Haverly looked like she tasted something fowl.
"Merope died giving birth to the child," Serena continued. "It was a boy, she named him after Tom. Tom Riddle Jr. grew up in an orphanage."
Mrs. Haverly did not look very sympathetic. She took a sip of tea in silence.
"You think it's right for a man to leave his wife when she's pregant with his child?" Serena inquired, reading her facial expression.
"Not exactly," said Haverly. "A man should stay with his wife in a situation like that...but this woman was in a destitute situation. Very homely looking I heard. Coming from a family like hers. She did hoodwink him into marrying her, but I wouldn't wish dying in childbirth on my worse memory. A man should be with his wife when she bears his child. I don't think I would've made it myself had not my husband Fred had been there." She nodded fondly to a picture with a man with auburn hair and brown eyes.
"Merope's son though," said Serena, "looks a lot like Tom Riddle. Looks nothing like the Gaunts."
"Then the child is blessed with good looks at least," said Mrs. Haverly. "If Tom Riddle has changed for the better, he should meet with his son but if Tom Riddle is the same man he was when I met him, then perhaps this boy of his is better off never knowing him."
Serena frowned. She had already met Tom Riddle and he was horrible. If this is how he was now, she hated to think what he was like before.
"A refill on your tea?" Mrs. Haverly asked kindly, seeing her empty cup.
"N-no thanks, Mrs. Haverly," answered Serena. "I should be off. I think I have all i need."
"Oh, well, thank you for coming then," said Mrs. Haverly. "I enjoyed our little banter. Do come again if you have any more questions for me."
"Of course," said Serena, "thank you."
Mrs. Haverly showed Serena to the door, told her to have a nice day and Serena stepped out of the door. Now after seeing Tom's former sweetheart, Serena could use this encounter to her advantage.
--
A letter addressed to Tom Riddle fell on the entry way of the Riddle household. A maid that had been dusting the furniture approached it and bent down. There was no return address, like the first mysterious letter. The only difference was that it had the name "Cecilia" on it. The maid entered Tom Riddle's room with her hand outstretched.
"Master Tom, sir," she said. "A letter came from you."
"If it's from my son again..."
"No it's from Cecilia," said the maid.
"Cecilia?" Tom gasped, getting up from his desk immediately. He snatched the envelope from her hand. "Thank you, Dorothy. You may be excused."
"Yes sir," Dorothy gave a little curtsy and existed the room.
Tom opened the letter eagerly with fantasies flooding his mind. Was Cecilia returning to him? Had she forgiven him after all this time? Was she leaving her husband?
Tom,
It has been some time since we last spoke. I think we should talk soon. Meet me Toasty's Tea Shop at noon on Monday, on August seventh.
Cecilia
--
Tom arrived at the tea shop early, dressed in his best suit with a bouquet of a dozen red roses. He sat at a table on the outside table, waiting impatiently for his old sweetheart to come. His imagination ran away with him, thinking of the future they could have together.
"You haven't changed," said a voice.
He looked up from the hands in his lap and saw in front of him a thirty-year-old version of Cecilia Roberts. She had aged nicely. They were just kids when he saw her last and now she was a woman. She was wearing a gorgeous dark blue dress and high heels, her hair up in a bun.
"Cecilia," he said, standing to his feet immediately. "You look beautiful"
Cecilia smiled and took the seat in front of him. "Hello, Tom."
"How are you?" he asked.
"I'm well, than you," she answered. "My husband is an executive at a major company and my boys are growing. Little Jimmy just made it to the football team."
Tom frowned. He didn't want to hear of her family. "That's good."
"I hear you have a son," said Cecilia warmly. "From your marriage with Merope Gaunt."
"I told you that was a mistake," he said. "I shouldn't have married her."
"I saw where she lived, Tom," said Cecilia, "and so did you. She did not how to get out of that lifestyle, not on her own at least. Her easiest option was to run away with you. I don't know how she did it and I don't think she matters. What matters is that you left her while she was carrying your son and she died giving birth to him. You intend to have your son to continue living without a father?" She looked coldly at him.
"What kind of man are you, Tom Riddle?" she added.
Tom opened his mouth in shock. This wasn't how he thought his meeting would go with Cecilia.
"What can I get you two?" said a waitress at their table.
Cecilia's attitude changed immediately. "Oh, I'd like jasmine tea please."
"And you sir?" the waitress looked at Tom.
"Coffee," he replied. "Make it black."
The waitress nodded and walked away. She returned moments later with their drinks. Cecilia dropped two sugar cubes in her tea and stirred it.
"Isn't your family getting old?" asked Cecilia. "You and your parents in that big house. What would happen to you lineage?"
"I'm not concerned about that," said Tom as he brought his coffee mug to his mouth. "I thought we could go back to the way things were."
"We can't, Tom," said Cecelia. "Things are different now. I am married and I have three boys. You have a son yourself."
Tom took another swig of his coffee. "I don't want to see him and I can't even if I could. He's in prison."
"Can't you visit him?" Cecilia inquired.
"No, it's not an ordinary prison," Tom said. "It's a prison for people like...my dead wife."
"Perhaps you should try and get in touch with him when he leaves prison," said Cecilia after sipping her tea.
"I don't think that would be wise," said Tom. "My son doesn't really want to see me either."
"Things might change," she shrugged. "How much longer does he need to stay in prison?"
"I don't know," Tom answered after a long gulp of his coffee. "A year or two."
"Cecilia finished her tea and set the teacup back down on the saucer. "All right, well, I've had my say. I should be going now."
"What?" inquired Tom. "You're leaving?"
"I have a family Tom Riddle!" Cecilia hissed, rising to her feet. "I have a family, and you have one too and if you had any decency you would seek out your son."
"I wouldn't know how to!" Tom said. "He sent me a letter, stating he was in prison, but it was a prison I never heard of before! A friend of his visited me. She knows how to reach me but she...probably won't anymore. She said she wouldn't bother me again."
"Would you be willing to see your son if she contacted you again?" she asked.
"I," said Tom. "I don't know. Maybe after my son is out of prison. But I have nothing to say."
Cecilia nodded. "I understand. You just need time then?"
"Yeah," said Tom. "Time."
"Good to see you again, Tom," said Cecilia.
He looked sadly up at her and got to his feet gentlemanly. "Yes, take care, Cecilia."
and she walked away. When she was no longer eyeshot of Tom Riddle, her features faded to that of a younger woman and her blond hair fell into pigtails. Cecilia, Serena Moon nodded at her reflection in an old window. "I love being a metamorphamagus."
TO BE CONTINUED