Dissindere Temporalis
So here we are again.
Chapter 4! It's hard to believe, and hard to believe that this chapter was 5k words. I took a bit of time to polish this, I was determined to get Tom's voice right, and I hope that you enjoy him.
The timeline has begun to change...
Lets see how it unfolds!
Enjoy!
Sine Qua Non
Throughout history there have always been highly powerful, talented, magical beings. Each of them is met with a counter, a foil, a balance.
Often if a balance is removed, another will be brought into being.
This is actually where the concept of soulmates comes from. Someone's perfect balance, their determined foil.
It has been romanticised, the idea of being pre-destined, almost designed to be someone's perfect match. Often rather than being romantically connected, these pairs have been in conflict, an eternal push and pull of control and balance.
Look at any light or dark lord in history, there will always be another sent to face them, often seemingly pre-destined.
Magic cannot be destroyed, cannot be removed from the world. After great massacres that magic will return, in the young of the next generation.
Sometimes spread out…sometimes condensed in one, or two figures…
- Excerpt from 'The Balance of Magic' by Rhiannon Moreland
It was a mild summer's day in London, one of those rare mornings that had both dawned bright and had remained so as the sun reached its zenith.
Not that it really made much of a difference at Wool's Orphanage.
The building was utilitarian, and loomed grey and foreboding in even the brightest of days. It served its purpose, and most of the pedestrians on the street preferred to pretend it didn't exist, averting their eyes like misfortune was a contagious thing.
Tom resented them for that luxury.
He felt it seething under his skin as he toiled in the miserable garden. When he had to pull weeds, wash dishes, scrub stone floors. Whenever he had to do some worthless meaningless task he resented the clean, well fed people who chose to avert their gazes, pretend that he didn't exist.
Like he was beneath them.
He hated them for that.
But today was turning out to be a good day, one of the older boys on one of the higher floors seemed to have acquired Chicken Pox, and the disease was now starting to spread among the previously uninfected children.
As such they were being encouraged to stay away from each other, and to not get underfoot. Which meant no chores and staying quiet in their rooms.
And that suited Tom, perfectly.
He was absolutely content in his room, with the sun high enough that reading was easy and he didn't have to strain his eyes.
But shortly after the midday chime there was a knock at the door, before Mrs Cole bustled in, leading a rather interesting woman behind her.
The stranger was wearing an outfit that was both refined and clearly expensive, tailored to her slim form, much like the women he passed on his way to school. There was one glaring difference however…
Where the women of London wore soft greys and navy blue, white and brown like the little drab sparrows that hopped around the trees, this woman's outfit was baby blue in colour, with a red band around the hat she held in her hand, red tie around the neck and a daring shade of red lipstick, which accentuated the bright and friendly smile she was currently sporting.
She didn't look like a Nurse….
That was something at least.
"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Professor Merrythought. She's come to tell you - well, I'll let her tell you, but you're a lucky boy." Mrs Cole actually smiled at the other woman, a foreign expression on her usually sour face and bustled out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
Tom blinked, had he heard whistling as it closed?
The Professor, Ms Merrythought moved slightly into the room, and he found his gaze returning to her.
His first thought was that she was someone from the madhouse. That Mrs Cole had finally decided to ship him off, and he felt his temper rise at the thought.
He wasn't mad.
He wasn't anything!
He wanted to be left alone.
"It's nice to meet you Tom," the woman's voice was surprisingly husky. "I'm Tia, Galatea Merrythought."
Interesting name, Tom catalogued sourly, unique, ear-catching. Not like Tom. Time to take control of this situation.
"I'm not going," he informed her firmly, and then he repeated himself, bringing forth the ringing tone that he found pushed people to do exactly as he wanted, "I'm NOT going!"
The tingling feeling rose to his skin, and he shivered slightly with the pleasure of it, glaring at her intently as he felt himself exerting his will. He couldn't do this often, twice a day at most without making himself too weak to defend himself…but right now it was a matter of survival.
He would not be sent to a madhouse.
The Professor blinked at him, and for a moment he felt satisfaction before she cocked her head to the side and he realised she hadn't been compelled or swayed by him, just confused by his words.
"I haven't even told you where you'll be going yet."
"You think I don't know?" Tom sneered, letting the energy slip from his skin as he stood, drawing himself up to his full height, which was taller than the other eleven year olds here at the Orphanage, "Do you think I'm stupid?"
A small smile curved up her lips, but before he could express the outrage building in his chest, she spoke.
"I don't think you are stupid at all Mr Riddle. In fact I think you are quite exceptional."
The praise made him pause, and look at her again. A nurse from the loony-bin wouldn't call a patient exceptional surely…?
Her blue eyes met his, unflinching. And it didn't feel like someone was talking down at him, or dismissing him.
He felt actually seen.
A part of him exulted in finally being looked at as more, as special, as a human.
An equal.
Another part squirmed, ashamed of the clean but sparse room, and his clean but cheap and old clothes. Clean was the only good thing he had.
He deserved so much more.
"When you were born, your name was immediately put down for the School I work for." her eyes sparkled slightly, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's a school for Magic, Tom."
For a moment he just stared at her, and then he felt something loosen in his chest, a great, rushing excitement, and joy and relief .
"What I can do, that's Magic?" he whispered, feeling almost giddy with the heady feeling of a weight being lifted from his chest.
Magic.
He'd always been different. Always at odds with the other children. They called him freakish, or possessed. They whispered things like 'devil', like 'evil'.
He couldn't remember a time when adults or children hadn't looked at him with that wary, fearful expression. Fear bred cruelty he'd found, and so he'd met their fearful acts with sharp retaliation. Then they knew not to mess with him.
Magic.
That was the energy that he could feel inside him. That was the amazing tingling that rose to his skin. It wasn't the Devil, or hellfire or…
It was Magic .
The relief almost made him want to cry, or laugh. But he held himself together tightly.
Showing that kind of emotion was a weakness he could not afford. He loathed showing weakness.
"What kind of Magic can you do?" Professor Merrythought asked, and he turned to look at her again. Her gaze was direct, no pity or anything in it, but still kind. She was genuinely interested, and he felt a spark of pride that she was interested in what he had to say. In his abilities.
"I can make some things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."
Vindication burned through his veins. He'd used his power against those who threatened him, who dismissed him, who looked down on him. Who stole his books or laughed at him and thought they could get away with it without any retribution.
It had made them stop. But they'd looked at him with revulsion and fear. They spoke of him like he was evil.
Was he the evil one for retaliating, he'd wondered. Was there something wrong with him?
No.
He was Magic.
"I knew I was different," he whispered, and turned to look at her, feeling almost fevered in his joy and vindication, "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."
Professor Merrythought smiled again, but there was something sad in her eyes. He'd seen adults look at him sadly before, but always like he was broken, damaged, worth pitying.
There was no pity in the Professor's solid gaze.
"You are special," she agreed, "Clearly you are an intelligent boy, and your skills are far more advanced than usual. Accidental magic is a marker for untrained witches and wizards, but yours has been honed to respond to your will. No longer accidental but used to your advantage." Her lips curved and there was a wickedness to it, "Clearly you were born to be a Slytherin."
He blinked, unsure what she meant and wondering if it was a compliment. The professor smiled and waved her hand, "If you'll allow, I'll go with you to get your school supplies, you need magical tools, and on the way I'll tell you all about Hogwarts."
He eyed her, feeling unsure. A part of him resisted wanting any help, he was better off alone, the only person he could truly rely on was himself.
But she had said, go with him, if he allowed.
Not take.
Not show.
That soothed him a little, and he did want to know more about the school. But first.
"Can you show me something?" He asked, eager, wanting to see something Magical that wasn't from himself, "Something magic?"
Professor Merrythought's smile broadened, and she eyed the room carefully before drawing an elegant black stick from her sleeve. It was intricately carved, and sat in her hand like it was comfortable there.
She waved it, and Tom's eyes widened as the bed slowly levitated into the air. Another wave and it shifted into a wooden table and then back to his normal bed.
Tom stared at the wand, for that was what it must be, in her hand.
"Where can I get one of those," he asked breathlessly, chest aching with want. With one of those, what power could he wield?
"Same place you get your school supplies," Professor Merrythought drew his gaze again, and he saw that her gaze was firm, "There are rules Tom. You're stepping into our world, your new world. But that comes with responsibility. For one, you cannot cast magic on non magical people. Now that you know of your gift, such actions will be Traced through your wand. Another is that, although you have done what you must to survive here, in the Magical world we do not hurt one another to achieve our ends. Fear and pain are powerful motivators, but dangerous. Dark magic, though powerful, always ends in the destruction of the one who wields it. You must be careful of that. Magic requires balance. Always balance."
He wrinkled his nose, but nodded. He didn't think he'd need to use the skills of the Orphanage at Hogwarts. He was special, and going where he would belong. Surely he would receive his due without the unpleasantness.
For a moment he imagined the awe and adoration of a whole school and his skin tingled with excitement.
The Professor was still watching him, and her blue eyes sparkled even in the terrible light of the Orphanage.
"Normally Hogwarts has terms throughout the year and then students return home for the Summer break." She said, eyeing him, and Tom felt revulsion surge through him, "But there is no way in Avalon's green hills am I going to let any gifted child return to this place," she eyed the stone walls with a wrinkle on her forehead, "They will never be able to understand, and that's no place for any magical child to be. I'll make sure something is done."
"You mean…" Tom felt another surge of something, something strong and warm and eager, "you mean I never have to come back?"
"Not unless you wish to…?" Professor Merrythought tilted her head at him and Tom immediately shook his head so hard his neck ached. She smiled and waved her wand, turning his thin grey blanket into a brown leather case, "I thought as much. Pack your things Tom and we will be off."
A part of him wondered if he'd be better off alone, go and discover his new world for himself.
But as he watched Merrythought leave the room to give him privacy he realised he wanted to know more, to hear what she could tell him about his new world.
She was the first person to truly see him.
See him, and not be horrified.
To see him, and not turn away.
So he packed. It didn't take long, he owned very little, but when he tried to pack his trophies they would not go into the case.
"They do not belong to you, do they?" Professor Merrythought murmured when he asked her, annoyed.
He squirmed.
He'd taken them as trophies, marks of his victory.
Merrythought eyed him, but there wasn't judgement in her gaze, "Did you steal them?"
"No." he shook his head sharply, "I took them. To teach them."
The Professor nodded, "Well then, let me." She waved her wand and the objects vanished. Tom stared at the empty space where they had been and then looked up at her, shocked.
"Where-?"
"They are outside the doors of their original owners. The point has been made. And you never have to return."
It was elegant. He did not have to apologise which would only rankle, and he never had to see these miserable twerps again but would leave them with the impression of having been bested.
He liked that.
As Merrythought headed to the door, beckoning him to join her after making his case shrink into her pocket, he realised he wanted her to be impressed by him.
Wanted her approval.
"I can talk to snakes." He blurted out, and she turned back, a look of surprise on her face, "Is that normal?"
It was his favourite gift, even if it had earned him even more whispering about being a devil. The price of Original Sin.
He'd paid for this gift especially brutally.
"No, that is quite a rare talent." Professor Merrythought murmured, "And one to be proud of. I'm even more sure of your place now, as a Slytherin."
Pride bloomed in his chest, and he moved to join her, "You mentioned that word before. What does it mean?"
She grinned at him conspiratorially, and Tom felt his magic tingle with excitement, "I've got so much to tell you. You're going to love it."
Tom was sure he would.
Professor Merrythought guided him around Diagon Alley, and interspersed her guide with interesting side bits of information.
She took him to Gringotts and withdrew some money, while casually giving him quiet information about the Goblins that ran the institution. He was fascinated hearing her stories, and it swiftly helped him get over his initial revulsion at these creatures that had so resembled the demons of his early childhood studies.
With Galatea's quiet information he found himself intrigued and resolved to learn more.
This continued throughout the shopping trip. Including a new small wardrobe of good quality clothes, made in Wizarding styles, school uniforms and a quality cloak made of a green so dark it was almost black.
He suspected that she had bought it for him herself. But she simply smiled when he asked and shrugged.
"It gets bitterly cold up in Scotland in winter. If you buy something thin and cheap you'll catch a cold. It's an investment really."
That seemed reasonable, soothing his pride.
She assisted him with gathering potions ingredients too, and showed him both the Potions kits that were premade for Hogwarts students and the huge room full of jars and boxes that contained all the ingredients he could ever want.
"The kits are purely for convenience." she murmured to him as they scooped up a little jar of beetle wings. "You will pay more per ingredient that way, and they will never be as good a quality or as fresh as the ingredients here."
He approved of her insights, and ended up buying a full set of ingredients, hand picked by them both, and also acquired a box to keep them all in, full of compartments and containers.
He couldn't resist stroking the soft black leather, aching to try his hand at making something amazing with the ingredients.
At the bookstore he bought his required texts and then the Professor took him around and bought him a range of other books.
"These will help you understand the Wizarding World." She informed him, laying a book called 'Purity and Politics,' on top of another one that read, 'Purebreeding and Poppycock.'. "They talk about the same issue, but with two opposing opinions on it. It's important to look at everything from both sides before making an informed opinion."
Finally she took him to a small shop that had an almost hushed air to it, rather like a church, but more friendly. He could almost feel the magic all around, the warm tingle he'd only ever felt when he brought it forward. He basked in it before a man moved forward, smiling at them.
"Galatea, a pleasure to see you again," he greeted, voice wispy and yet also heavy with knowledge, "Ebony Wand, Phoenix Feather core, 10 and a half inches. A warrior wand."
Professor Merrythought smiled, "Hello Mr Ollivander. Let me introduce you to Tom Riddle, he's starting Hogwarts this year." She turned to Tom, "Mr Ollivander makes the finest wands in Britain. Each wand chooses the Wizard or Witch to be its partner. It's a mutual bond and the kind of wand you are chosen by, says a great deal about you."
Tom felt nerves fizz in his belly, but he was reassured by her small smile and steady look.
Mr Ollivander meanwhile nodded eagerly, "A first wand is always exciting young man. Now lets see." tape flew out of drawers and began to measure him, "Lets try this one. Apple, dragon heartstring, whippy."
As soon as he touched the wand somewhere in the store, glass shattered, making him jump and Professor Merrythought to snort softly.
"No. no! Definitely not." Mr Ollivander hurried to another shelf, "Oh my lets see shall we?"
He walked forward and pushed another box forward. This wand was red, "Chestnut, uni-"
Tom's fingers had barely brushed the wood when something whizzed past all their heads.
"This brings back memories," Professor Merrythought laughed, and he turned, hurt that she was laughing at him, to see that she was grinning at the wands, "I tried about twenty of these before I found mine. I made water pour into the store, we nearly drowned."
She wasn't laughing at him.
Good.
His chest eased, and he turned back to see Mr Ollivander eyeing him, "Hmmm try this Mr Riddle."
He slid another box across the counter. It felt warm to the touch, but nothing happened.
"Close, interesting." Mr Ollivander tapped his lips, "Snakewood, that one. I wager you'll be a Slytherin, young man."
Tom preened a little. People kept saying this. It must mean something good.
Mr Ollivander looked at him and then murmured softly, "I wonder…"
He disappeared into the shelves before he returned with a box containing a wand made of a pale pale wood almost shaped like a bone finger.
As soon as he touched it the sun shone brightly through the windows, bathing the store in deep red gold light, sparks swirling from the wand. It was a beautiful display and made Tom's breath hitch.
"A beautiful match," Mr Ollivander breathed, "Most curious,"
"Why is it curious?" Professor Merrythought asked, and he nodded, wanting to know too.
"Because the phoenix feather core of this wand has a twin. The phoenix who donated the feather only donated one other. It is in a beautiful holly wand. I have had these two on my shelves for years. So it is most strange that both would be chosen this year. This one by you Mr Riddle, and the other by young Mr Potter."
"Charlie's boy?" Professor Merrythought hummed, "That is interesting."
"Indeed. This one is made of Yew, a rather interesting wood. Let me tell you Mr Riddle, I've never had a Yew wand choose anyone other than someone exceptional."
Tom stared at his wand, thrilled at the comment. He'd already been excited, but now, there was another point in his favour to being special.
Professor Merrythought looked thoughtful as his wand was packed back into its box.
"Charlie went to Hogwarts with me, you see Tom," she informed him as they paid and left, "He's also a Slytherin. I wonder if his boy is too?"
Potter. Tom thought interestedly.
If they had matching wands…maybe that meant something.
After he was tired and feeling happier than he could ever remember feeling, she took him to the Three Broomsticks inn, and paid for a room for him where he would be able to stay for a day or two until he was to go to Kings Cross.
"I'll see you at Hogwarts," she said, and vanished with a wink, before he could thank her for everything.
She must have known he'd only do it to be polite, resenting needing the help.
His appreciation for her rose, and he knew that he'd definitely already found his favourite teacher.
Galatea "Tia" Merrythought
The next two days he spent devouring every book he could get his hands on.
He was fascinated by the two books Professor Merrythought had bought him on the politics of the Wizarding World. The idea of blood purity, that your lineage somehow meant you were more powerful was an interesting concept. Except that a number of the lineage books listed prestigious Magical Families and the name 'Riddle' did not appear anywhere.
For a moment he worried, perhaps he would go to this school and be behind, be less.
The idea made his chest ache so badly he'd actually pressed his hand to it, trying to ease the pressure.
He was not less!
He was not common!
He was special.
In fact Professor Merrythought had called him exceptional. And she was a teacher, surely she would know.
The thought soothed him, and so when he finished the pair of books he considered them for a while.
One, blood purity had to be gobshite, if he wasn't part of the ancient families but had this power? Surely that proved it. He was exceptional. Two, the ancient families were deeply ingrained in wizarding culture. If anyone had innate social power it was them.
Maybe then…they had a point?
He would have to see.
Next he devoured the books on Hogwarts. He particularly enjoyed 'Hogwarts: A History' fascinated by the intricacies of the place that would be his home for the next few years. He read about the Houses too, and agreed with Professor Merrythought, he definitely belonged in Slytherin.
Though he thought he probably wouldn't mind Ravenclaw, he knew that wit and intelligence were nothing without motivation and strategy.
On the 1st of September he left his room at the Leaky Cauldron and followed the exceptionally detailed instructions that Professor Merrythought had given him to Platform 9 ¾.
It had seemed ridiculous at first, but as he followed each step he was delighted by the subtlety of the magic. The train was huge, comfortable, and bustling with children. Older boys and girls called out to each other. Owls in cages hooted in outrage, cats hissed angrily and everywhere there were people.
Quickly Tom headed onto the train with his trunk, and found a compartment near the back that was blessedly empty.
However the train had only just left the station behind when the door slid open.
Tom looked up from his book, annoyed.
Standing there in the doorway was a young woman, around his age with brown hair that was plaited back into a bun. The style was clearly supposed to keep it neat, but he could already see tendrils starting to escape their confines. She was pretty enough, with a pleasant smile and freckles on her nose, but she looked surprised to see him.
"Oh hello," she greeted easily, "Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit? Everywhere else is starting to fill up. And my friends are deluded enough to think they'll find an empty carriage."
Tom eyed her.
On one hand, he didn't really want anyone in his space. On the other…here was another magical child, the first of his classmates he'd met. And if the carriages were filling up, honestly he'd prefer someone with a few manners rather than some buffoon deciding to come and mess up his space.
So he nodded, and gave her the smile he used on the shopkeepers of London, "Of course."
She smiled back, obviously pleased, and took a seat. "Are you starting too?" she asked carefully, "First year?"
He nodded and she smiled even wider, "Me too. You seem alright at least, there were some ghastly boys down the train." her gaze landed on the book he was reading and they widened almost comically, "You're reading Hogwarts: A History?"
"Of course," He tilted his chin haughtily, the way he'd watched a posh Lady do in a tea shop once, "I'll be attending school there for 7 years, I should know about the place."
The girl beamed, and settled down into her own seat, tugging a book out of her bag. It was, of course, Hogwarts: A History, a well-read, obviously well-loved book, and she grinned at him, before flipping it open and settling in to read.
Tom eyed her for a moment or two, but she didn't look up again. He was used to the Orphanage girls having the attention span of a flea, and no common sense to boot, but this girl seemed relatively intelligent. She was certainly engrossed in her own reading and so, pleased, he returned to his own studies.
It was a blissful half an hour of quiet before the door banged open, and Tom just about leapt out of his seat.
"Hermione!" A lanky red-headed boy barged in, "We've been looking everywhere. The place is bloody packed, worse luck!"
"I did try to warn you Ron," The girl, obviously Hermione, sniffed, "You have to get here early if you want a carriage,"
It was then that this Ron fellow seemed to realise the girl wasn't alone.
His gaze landed on the cover of the book and the eyeroll he gave was so exaggerated that it must have hurt, "Oh no she's found another one, seriously Hermione, you have to know that book back-to-front and cover to cover by now."
"There's always something you might have missed," The girl, Hermione argued back, snapping her book closed with irritation.
Tom meanwhile was just as annoyed, but that was because his blessed silence had been interrupted.
"Excuse me-" he began, trying to inject the scathing tone he could usually summon so well.
The red-headed boy-terror ignored him.
"Harry!" he called, sticking his head out of the carriage, "I found her!"
"Ron!" The girl hissed, clearly just as annoyed, "You're being rude."
"What?" the red-head ducked back in and glanced between them, "Oh right, Ron Weasley, nice to meet you. Sorry about this, we're a bit disorganised."
Weasley was a name that had popped up in the books of ancient wizarding families and politics the Professor had bought him. One had called them blood-traitors, the other had called them progressive.
Interesting.
"Ron…" A dark haired boy, with a pointy faced pale blond boy at his elbow, appeared in the carriage doorway and Tom considered throwing himself out of the train window.
That urge only lasted a second, however, as a moment later his gaze met bright green and his magic went wild.
One moment it was calm and then the next it was like boiling, fizzing under his skin with excitement.
It was like all the times he'd made it do exactly as he wished, all the times he'd made those who hurt him pay, all the times he'd made cats and dogs come to him under the one tree next to the orphanage. All the joy and pain that came with Magic.
And this boy had set it burning under his skin, like sherbert.
The dark haired boy stared back at him, and some colour had left his cheeks.
'He feels it too.' Tom thought, fascinated, 'How interesting'.
"Harry, Hermione's found a friend as book nerdy as she is." the red-head was saying, to no one paying attention. The girl's gaze was flicking back and forth between him and the dark headed boy and she looked confused, or worried, "Sorry, what was your name mate?"
"Tom," Tom replied quietly, gaze locked on the bright green of the boy that had set his magic alight, "Tom Riddle."
Reviews
Shiara - It's going to take time for them to believe they don't have to take care of everything themselves. Throughout their history, Harry, Ron and Hermione have come to trust and rely on only each other, with occassional help from other friends. Not so much adults. That's not something you unlearn in a hurry. And haha, I'm glad you liked the Dramione friendship. I have always thought that once that blood-purity hurdle was tackled that the pair would find fundemental things in common. And this world, and the years post war have allowed them that.
amk41196 - I guess time will tell? Like I said, I'm not locking anything in right now. I firmly believe that chemistry is important and sometimes pairings surprise me. I guess something I'd remind you of is that although they all suffered through the war, and its after affects, there are two other factors now in play. One, that they deliberately came back to influence history being changed, and that means actively being in Tom's sphere. And two, the potion is slowly deadening the history they once had. It will never be forgotten, but slowly it's dulling, fading as a more distant memory.
Doreene - You may not believe it, but I'm glad you do!