Chapter 2 Notes:
TW: mentions of death (I think this is going to be in nearly every chapter by the rate I'm going…), allusions to drugging and rape. Nothing is detailed, but I still like to warn!
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"Excuse me"
Adelia Fauns had seen many things in her time working in the Ministry of Magic, but none of them could ever be as mysterious or concerning as what she was seeing now… It was a boy. Not any boy however, as his clothes were ashen and burnt in many places, his complexion and hair caked in a thick layer of white. All she could see was the unsettling dead blue of his eyes, staring at her intently without blinking.
"Dear Merlin— Can I help you, dear? No, no, I should immediately call St. Mungo—"
The boy tilted his head slightly and then looked down at himself, seemingly finding nothing wrong with his appearance.
"Hmm, no thank you, I'm quite alright" his young voice indicated he couldn't be older than ten, but the formal way he spoke and the cadence of his raspy voice were more akin to that of a grown man, sending a shiver down Adelia's spine. "I would like to speak with someone about my heritage so that I may access my family's vaults, but I'm afraid I do not know what department of the Ministry would handle such matter"
Adelia gaped for a second, and then glanced around the empty hallway. It wasn't yet time to clock out, and thus wizards and witches sat in their offices still, and any visitors would be handled by the staff at the entrance, but this child had come directly to her, floors away from said entrance and without a visitor badge.
"W… Where are your parents?"
The boy kept staring at her for a moment, then finally blinked as if he just remembered he needed to do such, and slowly morphed his face into a semblance of sadness.
"My mother is dead, and I don't know my father. That is why I've come here"
She slowly reached underneath her desk and called for the aurors.
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The boy did in fact end up in St. Mungo's after the aurors looked at him and deemed that he should be examined before they interrogated him. At the very least, a positive of getting derailed from his plans was the fact that he could finally wash up and dress in clean clothing… it was a high improvement in fact. Now that his face could be seen, he could tell he would be around ten or eleven years old, deathly pale for his actual skintone and malnourished but otherwise perfectly healthy… well, for the most part. His joints ached if he stayed still too long as he'd found during his long walk, constantly having to fight the rigor mortis, and his eyes constantly misted over while his brain tried to keep the connection to them alive. There was no pink on his cheeks as it once had been, and his lips kept a blue-ish tint even after the nurses wrapped him in a blanket and put a cup of steaming tea in his hands.
Perhaps by luck -although it was more likely that they simply could not see the marks Death had left with its claws- none of the healers thought there was anything wrong with the little walking corpse, and so they let an auror sit next to his bed after long hours of waiting. By then, the boy's limbs felt as stiff as ice.
"Ms. Faun said you had no adults with you in the Ministry" a man with stern expression started to ask, looking down at the report he carried. "What's your name, boy? Any family to contact?"
"I don't have a family. My mother is dead" he reiterated, and the auror noted something in the report while he frowned. "My name is…." The boy paused. What was his name? He knew it once, but he had forgotten… Voldemort was way too pretentious and ridiculous now after such a long time, and he would rather leave the embarrassing moments of his youth behind. However, he needed an identity now, one that hopefully wouldn't be tied to the fire in the orphanage. "…. Gaunt. Marzan Gaunt"
The auror stopped writing and looked up at him with clear shock in his expression.
"Gaunt? As in, the pureblood family?"
The boy -Tom, if he remembered correctly- nodded.
"Yes. My mother was Merope Gaunt, sir. My father was a muggle I think, but I have never known him or his name"
The auror frowned again and checked the report.
"… I believe I have calls to make"
And so he did, for an absurd amount of time.
While the auror contacted his superiors and whoever else he would be talking to, the boy— Tom, got acquainted with himself and who he was going to be. If he recalled correctly he had never actually known his mother, but that was quite alright, nobody would know that… at least nobody who still lived, as the orphanage had burnt when he was put back to life. A shame for those children, but Tom didn't truly care, and he had the suspicion that Death didn't either.
Well, anyway, back to business. His mother had died ten -or eleven, he still wasn't quite sure- years ago, but before that she had run away from home, and both her disgusting father and brother never knew what became of her. Matter of fact, neither the Gaunt nor Riddle families knew of Tom's existence until he himself sought them out, which meant neither of them could disprove anything of what he said now. Therefore… Merope Gaunt ran away with her sweetheart Tom Riddle, who was horrified upon finding she had drugged and raped him for months when she stopped giving him amortentia, and promptly abandoned her. Tom/Marzan was the unfortunate consequence of her actions, but he was only just a child and he of course didn't know any of that; when he was born Merope decided it would be better for him to believe his father had abandoned them. Believing him to be as weak as her in magic she moved them to the muggle world, where they lived peacefully although humbly for the following ten (or eleven) years, until she tragically died in an accident and left poor little Marzan all alone. Lost and not knowing what to do, he returned to the magic world and decided to seek the oh so kind Ministry of Magic for help.
Tom was, of course, completely and absolutely capable of handling magic. He was a genius, matter of fact, and his mother hadn't known how to handle it as she was barely more than a squib, but she had taught him all he knew about potions and told him of the magical world. She wanted him to go to Hogwarts should he ever receive a letter, so he had of course decided he would try as she would've wanted him to succeed.
… It was a hastily made sob story, but it worked. The chief of the auror department carefully interviewed him and for the following weeks he stayed in his St. Mungo room, fed warm -although admittedly tasteless- food and given medical care for his malnutrition as the investigation continued.
It was determined that his story… held up perfectly fine. Nobody had heard of Merope Gaunt ever since early 1926, when she still worked in Knockturn Alley as a potionist, but she vanished once her pregnancy started becoming visible and people stared at the single woman without a man in sight. From there tracking her to the muggle world was virtually impossible as she wouldn't have a legal presence, and neither did 'Marzan'. His tests had also confirmed he was in fact related to the Gaunt family, and now… well, now they would find him a place to stay.
Tom had imagined they would try to find a distant relative who wouldn't be too put off by taking in a halfblood orphan, but unexpectedly he found one morning that they meant to place him with his actual family— That day, the chief auror walked in with a man he didn't quite recognise anymore, but judging by his age, must've been Morfin Gaunt.
Morfin was… a sight. His hair, matted and dirty, framed a face of harsh lines that was nothing alike to Tom's, who had been rather well gifted with fine aristocratic features. He was tall, although not much, and built, although not much. Just by a single glance Tom could tell he already hated his guts, but that was quite alright, he had expected as much. Both him and Marvolo had always been blood supremacists, hadn't they? Why would Morfin want to take him in? Well, the answer turned out to be that he actually didn't.
"Given the circumstances, you will receive an aid from the Ministry for the boy's expenses" the chief auror was saying, and the motivations for such charitable act became obvious. "When his Hogwarts letter arrives in the following months, you will also have the support of the fund for students"
Morfin narrowed his small dark eyes at the child that was almost a carbon copy of his disgusting muggle father.
«Do you understand what I'm saying, mudblood?»
The chief auror stumbled a step backwards, clutching his clipboard. Tom slowly tilted his head without blinking.
«Of course I do» he hissed back, soft and hypnotising unlike the harsh rasp of Morfin's parselmouth. «You mustn't pretend to be civil to me, Morfin Gaunt. I know you hate the muggle blood in my veins… you would've killed Tom Riddle had you had the chance»
Morfin let out a low hiss, both now completely ignoring the third man in the room.
«So you do know who your father is, after all»
«I know many things, including the fact your sister drugged and took advantage of him to conceive me. She was quite good with her potions, wasn't she? Amortentia wasn't all that complicated for someone of her caliber»
Morfin's fingers twitched as he refrained from pulling out his wand, and Tom smiled for the first time, knowing he had him where he wanted him to be. It was a creepy ghost of what an actual smile looked like, emphasised by his eyes that were as dead as the rest of him.
«Don't be too hasty, you don't want to be back in Azkaban so soon. This can be beneficial for both you and me; you get your money and I make myself as scarce and invisible as I can, while I get a place to stay. I will be in school for most of the year either way»
«… What do you want?»
«From you? Absolutely nothing. I have my own goals and plans. Once I'm forgotten by the Ministry I shall leave and you will never have to see me again»
Silence returned to the room and the auror looked in between of them as if trying to understand what they had said despite having no clue of what sort of conversations they could be having. Morfin's narrowed eyes found no trace of lie in the filthy little menace, and so he turned to the chief.
"Alright. I will take him in"
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The Gaunt family home was indeed nothing more than a simple shack in ruins, but Tom didn't complain a single word and after crossing the threshold he upheld his end of the deal and stayed confined to the room that had once been his mother's, and soon they found a routine that worked.
Morfin handled the cooking, reluctantly as he did, while Tom kept the house clean and organised as he was a rather neat man by nature. They procured never to stand in the same room for more than a few seconds or a minute, not unless a Ministry worker came by to check on Tom, when they pretended they weren't strangers. The money they got was more than enough to cover food and clothing, of which Tom never demanded more than a few pieces he rotated between, and thus they now lived far better than Morfin and his family ever had since before he was born.
Most days Tom walked outside to sit on the grass and read a book, or he would take long walks around Little Hangleton to get used to moving once more. The people of the town looked at him with as much disdain as it was expected, clearly recognising whose son he was, but he pretended not to see it and instead kept to himself. He assumed rumours had already gotten to the Riddle's ears, but he had no interest in getting anything from them for the time being. And soon as he started to look less like a corpse, their stares shifted to glance at his darkening skin instead. Never before had Tom spent time underneath the sun, at least not much, but as weeks blended into months his natural brown complexion showed and he found it quite complimented his shiny black hair and the few features he inherited from the Gaunt family such as his elegant curved nose and the lush dark lashes framing the blue eyes that were a dead giveaway of his mixed race, which he could always hide with a glamour if he so pleased once he arrived at Hogwarts.
Four months after he arrived in the Gaunt household, an owl dropped a letter addressed to Marzan Gaunt, just as expected, and he opened it to read with satisfaction. It was almost mid August, it arrived quite late, but he would need only one day to do his shopping— presumably.
«My letter has arrived» he announced later at lunch time, placing said parchment on the table and extending his hand «I will do my shopping tomorrow»
Morfin grumbled to himself but gave him a decent amount of galleons, and that was that.
Tom left the house early the next morning and after walking away from prying eyes, apparated directly outside of the Leaky Cauldron. Patting at his body to verify he hadn't left behind anything essential, he slipped inside and went directly to the entrance of Diagon Alley. The very first thing he did upon stepping past the wall was taking a deep breath and closing his eyes to revel in the buzz of magic in his skin. Now this… this he could say he remembered and missed.
Books and materials he needed were easy to obtain— while they were not quite within budget if acquired new, Tom had never actually said he'd buy them, and he carried with him many years of experience… nobody noticed the child walking between adults with stolen goods, and it was not his fault they didn't take proper caution to prevent theft. Besides, it would make but a small dent in their sales. No, his limited amount of money would be saved for other things of higher importance, such as robes. Dressing the part was definitely within his interest, he was about to step into an elitist school who looked down on those of lesser means, and Tom knew how to play the game well; with a few affordable yet well tailored sets, he was prepared for the time being.
Now, he hadn't quite decided on what sort of statement he would make when arriving, but establishing dominance was of extreme importance in the house of Slytherin, and this time around he wouldn't have the patience to climb up organically with the use of his high intellect and favour from professors. No… it would be most effective if he were to be acknowledged from the start as equal to his peers. This was of course, not very easy to achieve with his halfblood status and the disgraced condition of his house name, but it would be a nice touch to leave clear to the entire school of his status as Heir of Slytherin. It would be best to also have the backing of another well known family, but that could be arranged later. After much thought, he stepped into the local menagerie and purchased a snake, a pretty viper with yellow scales that was eye catching enough to not be ignored. It was still too young to talk to him fluently, and he decided he would wait a while before he named it, be it as he wasn't the best at naming… well, anything.
With that handled, all he needed now was— well, a wand.
In the past months he had tried to perform magic without it, seeing as he didn't have a wand anymore, and although it was entertaining to train himself in such ability, it also came with… unfortunate secondary effects he suspected came from his death. Seeing as he had already passed he wasn't too worried with those developments, but he needed to read up on those obscure books he had stolen once he got home. Either way, he couldn't turn up to Hogwarts with no wand… rather put off by the thought of visiting Ollivander's again, he ventured into Knuckturn alley instead. When he had worked in Borgin & Burkes in his youth he knew the shop to hold a sizeable collection of old wands once belonging to long gone wizards… none of them would need them now, and he could also take such time to retrieve Slytherin's locket, as it was his rightful possession. The problem laid in the fact Borgin & Burkes did protect their products with anti-theft measures, and they weren't exactly cheap either.
Luckily for him, there were a few clients inside when he entered the shop, so he walked directly to the wand display with his hands innocently behind his back as he examined his options. And options there were! Enough that he couldn't truly choose at first glance. Now, he knew that most of those wouldn't fit him quite right, but in his long years he had learnt that "the wand chooses the wizard" only applied to children purchasing their first one. There could be certain variation on how different cores channeled one's magic, but regularly there wasn't much of a difference— the key laid in that if a wizard uses a single wand for a very long time, they simply would feel accustomed to it and their performance could be reduced by suddenly changing to a different one. Of course, if the wand actually belonged to someone else and it hadn't been won fairly in combat, it would have certain rebelliousness to it.
His eyes slowly travelled down the display on the wall, and then were caught in a single spot at the bottom, where a few boxes covered in dust lined a shelf. But amongst them there was a single crystal case, and he leaned down to pick it up, blowing on the surface and rubbing it with his sleeve to clear it up. Inside there was a wand, quite longer than the average, of black wood and an intricate design of veins running along its length, which thickened and became a complicated net just above the handle, coiled like a snake with each miniature scale carefully detailed, and tiny eyes of emerald. At the end, the tail curved into a small hook, where a polished emerald hung. This… was definitely no ordinary wand…
Unable to tear his eyes away he walked back to the front of the store and to the front desk, although he wasn't noticed at first since there was another client still being attended. He placed the case carefully on the counter and then his eyes caught sight of his other prize, the locket. It hung in display right there, and he didn't hesitate to reach and pluck it off the mannequin neck, running his fingers through the 'S'.
"Excuse me boy, what are you doing here?" Mr. Burkes' voice was slightly outraged at seeing a child standing there with his hands on the locket and hoarding the crystal case.
Tom looked up to him without blinking, knowing people found his still dead veiled eyes extremely unsettling.
"This belongs to me" he stated firmly, hand closing on the locket "I came to retrieve it. I also wish to purchase this wand"
The man let out a huff.
"This locket belongs to us until you give us money for it— fifty galleons in fact. As for the wand, well it isn't for sale"
Fifty… it was cheap according to its actual worth, but out of his budget.
"Why not? It was on display"
"Because" Mr. Burkes answered in irritation, pulling the box to his side of the counter and trying to open it without success "It's been enchanted to never open. If you wish to have it as decoration, by all means it is yours. For thirty galleons of course"
Tom made a hum as he looked at the objects in deep thought, to the amusement of Mr. Burkes. In the meantime, the last client left the shop, a man with a thick coat that didn't notice a small hand moving quickly.
"How about we discuss the price?" he asked, lifting his chin to stare at Mr. Burkes confidently. "If I open the box, I will pay for the locket and half the price of the wand"
Mr. Burkes stared at him in silence for a long moment.
"You cannot open it, boy"
"I can. Do we have a deal?" and he extended his hand over the counter.
For a long moment there was only silence, before Mr. Burkes reluctantly shook it with a grunt, and then pushed the box back within Tom's reach.
"Marvelous!" he smiled to himself and looked down at the beautiful wand. The answer was right there. «Open»
Mr. Burkes nearly stumbled into the shelf along the wall when he gave a couple steps back, eyes wide much like every wizard hearing parseltongue for the first time. The locket in his hand opened, and the box made a small click sound. Tom pushed the locket closed again and opened the box, reaching in to grab the wand. He instantly felt a cold rush through his veins and the hum of the core recognising him as the new owner and the veins and emeralds lighting in green… beautiful.
"Oh, right" Tom slipped the wand into his sleeve and reached into the stolen purse, counting the galleons and placing them in the counter "That is… Sixty five total" He felt then that the protective spells vanished and he nodded to himself in satisfaction "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Burkes"
Passing the chain around his neck, he picked up the box and turned to leave the store with it under his arm. Well, that was all the preparations needed! And he had the feeling Morfin would be at least partially satisfied by the extra money he brought back.
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Tom made it very early to the platform on september first, and he made sure to close the curtains and door sealed shut as to not be disturbed. The past few weeks he had spent reacquainting himself with the books he had long forgotten, although his success with relearning the spells was not quite best.
He hissed a word in parseltongue and twisted his wrist, a flame dancing in the air under his direction, but the longer it was kept a dark mist came within him to envelop his arm. Black and red it grew to try and devour everything inside the compartment and he cut the spell with a frown on his brow. Fetching the book at his side, he opened it on the one chapter he had read again and again ever since he acquired the book.
"What use do their research has if they cannot tell me anything else about obscurials?" he muttered to himself, glaring at the pages.
A chilling laugh filled the compartment and he never looked up.
Frustrated?
Tom sighed.
"I never repressed my magic, you know? It was the only thing keeping me sane"
You can't expect to come back to life without consequences. You lost all magic, and regained it the next moment.
He tapped his finger against the page and then lifted his right hand, examining it as he experimentally pushed a tendril of magic to the surface, watching in intense fascination as it left his skin instead of staying inside his body, red and black tendrils wrapping around his forearm. They felt just the same as his ordinary power used to be like long ago, but the second he allowed the trickle of power to become a river, it broke past the dam and it surged outwards seeking to destroy. He closed his eyes and focused on each wisp that fought to tear at the seats and the curtains, forcing them to stand down and pulling them from within— it was hard, like attempting to hold the reigns of a dozen wild horses, but he didn't let go even as the train filled with voices or as it slowly started moving.
Minutes bled away into hours, with Death's amused laugh opposite to him and his own inner battle swirling in the room. And still, he kept at it, until finally the hurricane of darkness originating from his core settled, wild winds calming down to surround him in a lazy circle, a gentler embrace. His eyes opened again, a red ring glowing in his pupil, and he looked at Death through the red and black mist.
"They will know what I am"
Death's smile was as unsettlingly wide as always. It vanished without answering to him, and Tom let the swirl vanish, panting as his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. The little yellow viper hissed as it wrapped around his left wrist and he caressed its head distractedly, resting his head on the back of the seat. He would need rest for the last hour of the trip.
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Notes:
*Marzan is a name of arabic/persian origin, meaning warrior, sickness or pearl. It's pronounced [Mirza]. I have given the vague reference of the Gaunt family being of arabic descent, but it is not overly clear/emphasised. I will use both Marzan and Tom as his names.
*The snake Tom has purchased is an eyelash viper, they're venomous and quite beautiful! They can be a miriad of different colours but I like the yellow one best.
*While in canon Tom retrieved the locket from Hepzibah Smith, I will assume she purchased it after Merope sold it, anywhere between that time and before Tom graduated, and decided to put it at his reach earlier, since horrocruxes won't be a thing.
*Why an obscurial? I have no explanation other than I want it to be this way.
I hope you've enjoyed the introduction to this story! I'd be more than happy to see any feedback! If you don't have anything nice to say however, I'd appreciate the silence.
I will see you -hopefully- soon.