Chapter Thirty

Harry landed on an old, cold stone floor. It was worn and shabby but spotlessly clean and Harry guessed at once, correctly, that they were back at Tom's old orphanage.

This wasn't the entrance hall, though, but colder and at least in part under ground as the only light from outside was coming from a row of thin slit windows at the top of the walls. There was also a large light hanging from the celling making the whole room impressively bright overall.

Harry spotted the two large ovens and hobs up against one wall, once again old, shabby but perfectly clean as was the large rack of huge pots and pans.

There was a tall, slightly plump but very strong looking woman bustling around making a huge quantity of bread, or possibly very tough pastry. Harry could see a baby basket tucked into the corner of the room.

The woman, who couldn't have been more than thirty at very most, looked up hearing footsteps coming down the stairs behind them and beamed.

"Tom! You're back! I said you'd be back before dinner!'" the woman cried, wiping her flour covered hands on her apron and rushing over.

Harry stepped out of the way just in time for her to rush through where they had just been standing, throwing her arms around Tom's neck in a hug.

Harry was shocked to see a genuine softness in Tom's eyes as he hugged her back, smiling brightly at her.

"Well let me look at you then." she said, holding him out at arms length, "Look how tall you got! And they don't half feed you up in that place!"

"Three big meals a day!" Tom grinned, "And extras whenever we can sneak to the kitchens."

"Bet yea, their extras are a bit more than one of yesterdays scones?" She smiled, handing him a scone.

"More than most of us get here." he said, a slight edge to his voice.

"Well you's my favourite, ain't yea!" The woman laughed, turning back to the baking.

"You're the best Maggie." Tom grinned, breaking off a mouthful of the scone and eating it, he scrunched his nose up very slightly, clearly forgetting what orphanage food was like, "Sorry I didn't make it back for Christmas again…"

"You listen here, Tom Riddle," Maggie said, pointing a wooden spoon menacingly at him, "You're better off there by far! You're the first babe I raised and of course I miss yea but not enough to let you half stave here when you could be there, eatin' like a king. You say sorry every summer and I tell yea the same thing every time. You're better off there."

"Who is she?" Harry asked turning to Dumbledore, "I've never seen this side of Voldemort before, it's almost… almost normal. And this is after he killed Myrtle isn't it?"

Dumbledore nodded, "It is indeed and you are correct, there is a rare glimpse of the humanity inside Voldemort when he was with this young lady. Her name is Margaret Jones and she too was raised in this orphanage from a baby. She was thirteen when Tom Riddle arrived and he was… well, really he was given to her as a sort of present."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused, "Like a doll? LIKE A DOLL?"

Dumbledore gave him another nod, "Exactly."

"But he was a real person and she was only thirteen!" Harry gasped.

"They were always short staffed and Maggie, as she was known, was always very level headed." Dumbledore mused, "She did, considering everything, a fairly good job of raising him."

"He turned into a serial killer." Harry said rolling his eyes, "He's not even left school and killed someone!"

"Yes." Dumbledore said patiently, "But he was never like that with her."

"Tell me more about those kitchens…" Maggie laughed, "Bet you don't have to hit those ovens twice to get 'em to light!"

"It's the house elves you want," Tom told her, wide and happy eyed, "They'd be able to do all of your work for you in a second!"

"I hope you're nice to these house elves." Maggie told him sternly, "Please and thank yous cost yea nothing."

Tom nodded, although Harry highly suspected that he wasn't really listening.

"So… did she just… never leave?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore pondered for a moment, "Not really no, not until after this summer. She did marry, at barely sixteen, to the local milk delivery boy. She could of stopped working, gone to live on the little cottage on the farm with her husband… but I think she was too attached to Tom to leave him and so she got a job in the kitchens… and loved seeing him every summer."

"What changed?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore gave him a sad smile, "You're about to see."

"So tell me everything!" Maggie beamed at Tom, "How are your lessons going?"

"Really well." Tom mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs, "Top of nearly all of my classes."

"Of course yeh are!" Maggie said proudly, "You always were the smartest one here."

"Apart from you Maggie." Tom grinned.

Maggie smacked him gently on the arm, "Don't be silly!"

"Are you sure you got time for me Maggie?" Tom asked.

"Are you sure I 'have' time for you, not 'got', speak proper." Maggie told him, "I don't know, you're back for an hour and you're speaking like you got no education again. And yes I always have time for…"

She was interrupted by a loud baby cry. Maggie smiled and rolled her eyes, walking over to the baby basket and picking up a small baby, wearing a white night dress. She pulled her breast free from her dress and placed the baby on it before turning back to Tom.

Tom looked furiously at her, "What is that?" he spat.

"This is my daughter Tom, why are you lookin' at me so weird? What was I saying?" Maggie asked, stroking the baby's cheek, "Her name is Bridget. Want ta hold her?"

"No." Tom spat, a red, blotchy patch spreading from beneath his collar, "Did you know before I went to school last summer?"

Maggie looked confused at him, "I wasn't sure. It was too early to tell."

"You should of told me." Tom hissed, looking at the floor.

"I didn't know Tom, lord knows we'd been trying for long enough!" Maggie sighed, "I would of told yea as soon as I was sure if I'd known where to send the letters!"

Tom crossed his arms sulkily, "How old is it?"

"She is three months." Maggie said, "Just hold her for a moment for me, she's bein' all fussy."

Maggie walked over and dumped the baby into Tom's arms before covering herself back up. Tom looked at the child like she was about to explode.

"She needs burpin'." Maggie told him, breaking of chunks of the dough and slapping them onto a tray.

"I don't know how." Tom said coldly, putting her down on the table.

Maggie laughed, "I did all of this for you. Look like this…"

She placed the baby back in Tom's arms, her head over his shoulder.

"Then you just gently pat the back." Maggie explained, "See?"

Tom's eyes flared with rage, he shoved Bridget back at her mother and glared at them both, "I don't want to!"

"Tom, what on earth is wrong?" Maggie asked, hugging the now screaming baby, "You could of hurt her!"

"I'm leaving." Tom said coolly.

"Why?" Maggie asked, clearly trying not to cry.

Tom muttered something in Parseltongue, too quietly for Harry to really hear, although it was something about her giving him up and moving on and how no one had ever loved him truly.

"Tom what are you sayin'?" Maggie asked, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Goodbye." Tom said firmly, leaving the kitchen as the memory faded into nothingness.

Harry felt shocked, it seemed so weird that Tom had been so happy one second and then so angry the next.

Harry felt his feet hit solid ground again, although the blackness barely lifted.

"What happened to Tom?" Harry asked, trying to see in the dimly lit room, although it was starting to feel very familiar.

"He left the orphanage that evening." Dumbledore told Harry, "Without a word to Maggie, just a note to Mrs Cole saying now he was leaving now he was sixteen."

"What happened to Maggie?" Harry asked quietly.

"She waited a few weeks, but once it became clear that Tom wouldn't be returning she left the orphanage to live in that little cottage on the farm, just outside London. Her and her husband were very happy, she had two more children, two boys, one names after her father, Oliver and one named Tom… then when the second world war broke out she took in no less than eight evacuee children, adopting two little girls who's parents were killed in the bombings." Dumbledore said, plainly.

Harry sighed, it was tragic, seemingly for everyone involved, "Where did he go from there?"

"Here." Dumbledore smiled, "Do you recognise this place?"

Harry tried to look around again before the grotty hovel became all too familiar. The Gaunt home had been dismal enough with Merope looking after it all the time, now, left to rot and decay for years, it was worse than the meanest of pig sties.

Harry felt like he needed a shower just looking at the table, covered with rotting, half eaten food. The cobwebs hanging thickly from the celling and the thick layer of dust, mud and grime that covered the floor.

There was only one source of light in the whole place was a single, weak candle struggling to stay lit at the feet of a dirty man who's hair was so over grown Harry couldn't see his face any more. He was slumped in a chair with a broken arm by a fire that had long since died. A wand in one hand, a short knife in the other.

There was a polite knock on the door and the man jerked awake as the door opened slowly and with much creaking.

Tom walked into the stinking home, his eyes swimming with hatred and shock. It can't have been more than a day or possibly two since he had left Maggie and the orphanage behind him, he was still wearing the same clothes, although they were now slightly creased.

"YOU!" The man bellowed, pushing the empty bottles at his feet across the floor and staggering towards Tom, "YOU!"

"Stop." Tom ordered, speaking in Parseltongue.

The man crashed into the table, sending filthy pots clanging to the floor as he skidded to a stop. There was a long silence as the man looked up and down the neat figure of Tom Riddle, trying to get his brain to catch up.

"You speak it?"

"Yes, I speak it." Tom sneered, moving further into the room and letting the door swing slowly closed behind him.

Harry wasn't sure how he felt for Voldemort at this moment. The look of disgust and disappointment made it clear this was not what he had been expecting and Harry highly suspecting he was thinking of Maggie, her sparkling clean kitchen and a slightly stale scone. One thing was sure though, Tom showed no hint of fear.

"Where is Marvolo?" Tom asked.

"Dead, died years ago, didn't he?"

Tom frowned, this was clearly not the news he had been hoping for.

"Who are you, then?" Tom asked, glaring down his nose at the pitiful man.

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"

"Marvolo's son?" Tom said, clearly trying to keep the disdain out of his voice.

"Course I am, then." Morfin said, sneering back.

Morfin pushed the scraggly hair back from his face, showing Tom the heavy black stoned ring that had been his father's. "I thought you was that muggle. You look mighty like that muggle."

"What muggle?" Tom demanded.

"That muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that muggle what lives in the big house over the way." Morfin took the opportunity to spit on the floor between them, Tom rolled his eyes in disgust, "You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, i'n 'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it…" Morfin swayed, grabbing the table to keep him upright, clearly still very drunk, "He come back, see."

Tom looked him up and down, his eyes darting back and forth as the thought carefully, "Riddle came back?"

"'Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!" Morfin said, spitting on the ground once more, "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off! Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket?"

Tom seemed to be ignoring him, still thinking about the fact his father was only a short walk away.

Morfin continued to rant, it had been a while since he'd had anyone to talk to, and far longer since he'd had anyone even slightly listening, "Dishonoured us, she did, that little slut! And who're you, coming here and asking question about all that? It's over, innit… it's over…"

Morfin staggered again and turned around, reaching for a half full bottle of cheap rum. Harry rubbed his eyes as the darkness closed in around them.

Dumbledore took his hand and pulled him back to Dumbledore's office and the bright light, causing Harry to blink off the pain in his eyes.

"Why did it go black?" Harry asked, "It just… stopped."

Dumbledore nodded, settling himself behind the desk, "It stopped because Morfin cannot remember anything after that point. When he woke the next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone which was not unusual for him apart from the fact that Marvolo's ring was gone."

"I don't understand…" Harry said, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Meanwhile, in the village near by, the Riddle's maid was rushing up and down the street saying the household had been killed in the night. Tom Riddle Senior, his mother and father were all lying in the drawing room. A strange lighting bolt carved, or rather burned, into them." Dumbledore continued.

The pieces fell into place for Harry and he felt a sickening feeling clenching at his stomach.

"All of the muggle authorities were baffled of course. The Ministry on the other hand knew straight away that this was a magical killing and of course there was a very handy convicted muggle-hater living a stones throw away." Dumbledore sighed, "They didn't need to use any magical means however, Morfin was proud to admit that he was the guilty party, giving several details only the murder could have possibly known. His wand was also proved to be the murder weapon, so he was led away to Azkaban with out an issue."

"Not an issue?" Harry asked, "He didn't even care?"

Dumbledore shook his head slightly, "The only thing he cared about was the loss of his father's ring. He kept saying 'He'll kill me for losing his ring' over and over again. In fact, that was the only thing he would ever say again."

Harry sighed and shook his head, "So, Tom realised that both of his families were shit, and after feeling like he'd lost Maggie as well, that was it? Two birds and one stone; he stole the wand from Morfin, killed the Riddles and then altered Morfin's memory so he would think he did actually kill the Riddles and stole the ring?"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, "We have no memories or real proof, but I am fairly certain that we can be sure that that is exactly what happened."

"He… he seemed so normal just a couple of days before with Maggie, before he knew about the baby…" Harry said, still struggling to fully get his head around what he had seen, "It's scary to think people can change so quickly. Morfin never realised that he wasn't guilty, of that crime anyway?"

"Never." Dumbledore said firmly, "It took a great deal of skill and legilimency to get even this much from him. I visited him during the last few weeks of his life. I did attempt to show that he was likely innocent in this instance but… well, the Ministry seemed to have little interest. Before they reached a decision, Morfin had died."

Harry sighed and rubbed his aching head, "Where did you get the memory of Maggie from?"

Dumbledore smiled, "From Maggie herself. She was very old by that point and not very well. I told them I was a specialist doctor and asked her many questions about her youth. She still remembered him fondly, and said that she'd never really gotten over the fact that Tom never got to know Bridget or meet Poppy or Charlotte, her two adopted daughters, or Oliver or little Tom, as he was known by her until her death, long after he was a successful doctor."

Harry allowed himself a small smile, "She was sweet."

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes. The hardship that had broken Tom in so many ways had made her strong. She was always filled with care and love, and raised her five children to have normal, healthy lives. But, it still ended up with Tom being alone, abandoned."

Harry frowned slightly, "I wouldn't of said she abandoned him. Tom freaked out but Maggie would of still been there for him."

"Perhaps… but we can't know for sure." Dumbledore said.

Harry fought back a bitter reply, covering opening his mouth with a yawn.

"You are growing tired Harry, we should continue quickly before you fall asleep in your chair. I'm sure your friends will help you to ponder out the details after all." Dumbledore said with a smile that Harry noticed, failed to quite reach his eyes.

Harry stood and waited for Dumbledore to pour the last silvery memory of the evening, into the Pensive.