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Over The Summer

Summary:

June 1942:

Tom Riddle thinks he's never going to get adopted. Oh well, he can still bring light into his life by wiping Hogwarts clean of Mudbloods and beginning his plans for immortality.

James and Eliza Erikson think that they'll never have a child. No matter, they can still adopt.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes and other works inspired by this one.)

Chapter Text

Tom Riddle had long ago given up hope of ever being adopted. He had been sent back by two adoptive families before he turned seven. Right now, he was fifteen. 

Dippet had sent him back to the orphanage. Again. Tom had gotten perfect grades, was the most well-behaved student in school, acted nice to everyone, and was even a prefect. Nothing he had done made any difference; Dippet sent him back anyway. Tom suspected the wizened idiot Albus Dumbledore was at fault for convincing Dippet to make him leave.

Tom had been doing research into his family history. Just last year, he had discovered that his maternal family, the Gaunts, were descended from Salazar Slytherin himself. It was one of the best moments of his life, but he had kept it a secret. Slytherin had hidden a secret chamber in the school, and Tom was determined to find it next year. Once he did, he would unleash it on the Mudbloods, the invasive parasites that came from the Muggle world that Tom hated so deeply.

Maybe, just maybe, if one of the Muggles was nice to him, Tom would go a little easier on the Mudbloods at Hogwarts. But that was a big if.

~

James and Eliza Erikson desperately wanted a child. It was last year, after many years of trying, that they finally accepted the fact that they would never conceive. It was a sad, sad moment for the couple.

Luckily, there was still the option of adopting a child. James and Eliza made sure that their home met all the requirements before going to orphanages looking for the perfect baby.

After leaving one, Eliza turned to her husband and said, "James, did you notice the older children? They all looked so angry and dejected like they knew they would never be chosen."

James sighed. "I know. Sad, isn't it? Once they pass the age of three, their chances go down dramatically."

Eliza perked up. "James, maybe we could adopt an older child!"

"But the spare room is set up for a toddler," James reminded her. "We'd have to go back and do it all over again."

"I know, I know, but it would be kinder to adopt an older child," Eliza smiled. "Think about it, dear, they would be so delighted..."

"All right, fine. But you're doing the planning."

~

"Children!" Mrs. Cole called sharply. "Get down here, all of you! There's a couple looking to adopt!" 

Tom rolled his eyes as the squeals of little children filled the hallway. They were all convinced that the couple downstairs would choose them. How naive.

Mrs. Cole rapped loudly on the closed door. "You too, Tom. You know the policy; all children downstairs."

Grumbling to himself, Tom hid his Hogwarts textbook in his suitcase and made his way down the stairs, carefully avoiding the tiny kids running around excitedly. He knew that he would not be chosen by whoever was down there. The two other families that had taken him in were put off by his "freakiness."

Once all fifty children were lined up in the hallway, Mrs. Cole escorted the couple in. They looked fairly young, wealthy, and educated, and quite nice. Tom couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart. Of all the Muggles in the world, these two didn't look that bad. 

~

"This is Mr. and Mrs. Erikson," Mrs. Cole said. Turning to the Eriksons, she said, "All the children are up for adoption. Once you've chosen one, we'll go to my office and I'll prepare the paperwork." 

James and Eliza scanned the row of older children in the back, ignoring the little ones in the front. Some of the orphans noticed this and exchanged confused glances. In the back, Eliza noticed two boys, one with blond hair and freckles and another with black hair and a detached expression on his face.

Mrs. Cole noticed where she was looking, and said, "Those two are Billy Stubbs and Tom Riddle. If you're looking for an older child, I'd take Billy."

"Well then, let's see the paperwo-" James said, but Eliza cut him off.

"What about Tom?" she asked.

Mrs. Cole pursed her lips. "Well, Mrs. Erikson...there's something wrong with him. A bit freakish."

"Freakish?"

"When he was younger, he could do strange things, like-"

Eliza was having none of it. "Rumors from the children, most likely. Mrs. Cole, I don't put any stock in superstitions. If you've been telling this to every parent who thinks about taking him, I'm not surprised he hasn't been adopted. May we see his file?"

~

From what Tom could overhear, it seemed the woman was...actually considering him?

Oh, forget it. Once she saw his file, it would be all over. She'd take the undeserving git Stubbs, and he would be forgotten once more and left to rot in the crumbling orphanage. Just as Dumbledore no doubt intended. 

Mrs. Cole led the Eriksons out of the room, and as soon as they were out of earshot, Stubbs turned to him with a nasty grin on his face.

"Bet they'll drop you the second they see that file, Riddle," Stubbs sneered. "I'll make sure to send you a postcard when they adopt me and we go on vacation."

"Stubbs, for once in your miserable, useless little life, try decreasing the size of your mouth and increasing the size of your brain," Tom snapped in response.

Stubbs's eyes widened at the insult, but he didn't dare punch Tom in front of all the other orphans. 

"You'll pay for that one, Riddle," he snarled under his breath.

~

Eliza was impressed. From the vague report Tom Riddle's boarding school had sent back, he had immaculate grades and high test scores. One member of the staff, Martha, had written down that he was reserved and an excellent reader. 

Of course, there were reports of him doing "unnatural" and "devilish" things as a young boy. Eliza dismissed them immediately. She knew firsthand how children could gang up on an outsider for almost any reason. In Tom Riddle's case, she suspected that the other orphans distrusted him because of his intellect and self-imposed isolation. (She herself had been teased as a child for being "too smart for a girl.")

She handed the file to James. He skimmed over it and said, "He seems like a very nice young man. I was looking through Billy Stubbs's file, and it looks like there are several unconfirmed reports of bullying."

Eliza frowned. "I don't think we'll be taking him, then." She turned to Mrs. Cole. "Please get Tom Riddle's paperwork ready."

~

Mrs. Cole came out of her office. "Children, go back up to your rooms. I need to help the Eriksons with their paperwork."

The children buzzed with thrilled whispers. That meant one of them was getting adopted. Tom suspected that half of them would start packing their belongings and straightening their clothes as soon as they got upstairs. 

Not Tom. Knowing there was little hope of getting adopted, he pushed past the others to avoid Billy Stubbs and his minions, and pulled out his book to continue reading. He had been reviewing the course material for next year.

Several minutes later, there was a loud knock on his door. Mrs. Cole entered, and Tom quickly shoved his book under the bed. He fought back a scowl, suspecting that she was going to make him scrub the floors, which would no doubt delight the nasty other orphans. 

"Get your things packed," she ordered. "The Eriksons are waiting downstairs. Well, what are you gaping at me for, you silly boy?! They don't have all day!"

Tom stared in shock for a few moments. Was he actually getting adopted? Slowly, he began to pack his small second-hand suitcase that had been bought in Diagon Alley a few years ago. All it contained was his school robes, a change of clothes, his wand, and next year's textbooks and school supplies. 

He couldn't believe it. Why would the Eriksons choose him, of all the orphans residing here? Was Mrs. Cole playing a mean trick on him? No, she certainly disliked him, but wouldn't play such a childish and cruel prank. Maybe the Eriksons were a wizarding couple...but something about the clothing or speech would have given them away. They acted like Muggles.

Tom picked up his suitcase and walked downstairs. Mrs. Cole was waiting there, tapping her foot impatiently. "Took you long enough."

Behind her stood Tom's new parents.

~

Eliza gave the boy a warm smile. He didn't return it, clearly still stunned that he had been adopted. She was glad to get him away from the orphanage's matron, who seemed to hold a special dislike for him.

Mrs. Cole turned around and left without so much as a goodbye. (Though if she did, it probably would have sounded more like good riddance.)

"Hello," he said cautiously. 

"Hello, Tom. We're your parents, James and Eliza," she said, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. He flinched but didn't draw back. "You can call us whatever you like; you don't have to go with Mum and Dad if you're not comfortable with it yet."

He nodded in response.

"Do you want me to take your suitcase?" James offered. Tom shook his head, looking down at his worn, scuffed-up shoes.

"All right, let's go out to the car." Eliza put a hand on Tom's back, leading him out. He stiffened up. Despite his calm and polite tone, the boy was very tense.

"Just put your suitcase in here, and then get in the back with Eliza," James said. Tom did as James said. Eliza sat down next to him in the back seat of the car.

"So, Tom, what do you like to do?" she smiled.

"I like to read," he murmured. "Sometimes I write a little."

"That's wonderful," she said. "Do you have a favorite book?"

He considered her question for a moment. "I liked The Count Of Monte Cristo," he said after a long pause.

"Really? That's one of my favorite books! Do you have a favorite subject in school?" Eliza asked, still smiling.

"Maybe math," Tom shrugged.

"James was always good at math," Eliza said. "I prefer world history myself."

"World history's interesting," he nodded. "Oh...you should probably meet with one of my professors. You'll want to know how my school works. I can send him a letter."

"Of course." Eliza was a bit surprised that Tom had mentioned writing a letter, but maybe the protocol was different at his school, or maybe the professor didn't have a phone. 

She attempted some more conversation with Tom for the rest of the car ride. He responded vaguely and unhelpfully but seemed interested in what she told him about herself and James. The only things she got out of him were that he liked reading and math, he liked The Count Of Monte Cristo, he really liked his school, and he didn't really have friends. When they arrived at the Eriksons' flat, James and Eliza sent Tom upstairs to unpack and get settled in.

~

Tom's bedroom was the last door on the right. It was small, but still very nice. The walls were painted a light greenish-gray, and there was a bookshelf in the corner stocked with Muggle novels and textbooks. There was an empty closet on one side of the room. Tom put his suitcase down, kicked off his shoes, and lay down on top of the bed.

Had he really just been adopted? He was still adjusting to the concept, having long ago told himself that this day would never come. But the Eriksons seemed to genuinely like him. Tom had played nice so far, even though he knew that they would toss him out of their home the second they found out he was a wizard. Until then, though, he saw no reason to be purposely difficult.

Tom turned over on his side, hugging one of the pillows. He should probably get up and unpack, but he was too tired. It had been a rather overwhelming day. 

What was he going to do about the letter? James and Eliza would have to find out eventually. Tom remembered that there were some wizards who worked in the Muggle post so nonmagical relatives could send letters to witches and wizards that they knew. He decided he would just put it in the mailbox.

Finally, he made himself get up. He put away the normal Muggle clothes in the closet, and his Hogwarts shirt, sweater, and pants. The tie, robe, and badge he left in the suitcase along with his textbooks and wand. Soon, Eliza knocked on his door. "Dinner, Tom!" she called.

Dinner that night was chicken and potatoes. Though it was fairly normal for most people, Tom never had food this good at the orphanage. He was careful to remember his manners, though, to make a good impression. Eliza told him that James was a lawyer and she was a journalist for a local newspaper. 

After dinner, Tom offered to help wash the dishes, but James told him that it was his first night here and he didn't need to do anything. Eliza gave him a short tour of the house and instructed him to get ready for bed.

Tom took a shower and brushed his teeth, changing into some clean clothes. He lay down on his bed and pulled Les Miserables off the shelf. He had heard it was an excellent Muggle book, so he should probably read it. 

Eliza knocked on the door. "Tom?"

"Come in."

Eliza sat down on the bed next to him. "How are you doing?" she asked, more serious than before.

"Fine," Tom said, setting aside his book. (It turned out, Muggle literature was very interesting. He would have liked to keep reading it for a while.)

She gave him an annoyingly effective Don't-lie-to-your-mother look. 

"Nervous," he mumbled. "And surprised."

Eliza nodded. "I would be too. Are you settling in all right?"

Tom nodded. No point in mentioning lack of clothes; he'd be kicked out soon enough.

"We'll need to buy you some new clothes..." Eliza mused, like she was reading his thoughts. "New shoes as well. Do you need textbooks?"

Tom shook his head. "I already have them."

"Good. You can stay up and read for a little while, but go to sleep within the next hour or so, all right?"

"All right."

Tom expected her to say something like Good night, Tom. I'll be in the other bedroom if you need me. I'll see you in the morning!

Instead, she leaned over and hugged him tightly. Tom froze, but after a moment, he gingerly hugged her back.

"Tom," she whispered. "I know you're probably a little scared and confused right now, but I promise you that you're here to stay, all right? I'm not going to throw you out onto the streets no matter what. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Tom whispered, holding back tears. She didn't know that he could do magic. If she did, she would take back that promise in a heartbeat.

~

When Eliza went to bed that night, she couldn't stop thinking about the boy she had just adopted. He never once acted happily. Respectful and polite, but not happy. When she told him good night and gave him another kind smile, he attempted a halfhearted one back, but that was it.

Eliza also wondered what school he went to. His file had not specified it, and he had never told her the name. Hopefully it was a good one.

Tom also seemed very sad. Even when she hugged him, he acted liked he was afraid of getting attached to her and James. Maybe he had been sent back to the orphanage by an adoptive family before, or maybe his biological family abandoned him. Possibly both. 

When Eliza told him she would never abandon him, she meant it. As far as she was concerned, she was his mother now and no good mother would ever leave their child alone in an orphanage. For some mothers, extenuating circumstances like the war might apply, but not to Eliza. She and James were in good financial condition, had stable jobs, and were healthy. There was no good reason to abandon Tom, and there never would be.

~

Chapter Text

Headmaster Armando Dippet was quite shocked. Just this morning, he had received a letter from Tom Marvolo Riddle informing him that he had been adopted by a Muggle family who had no knowledge of magic, and could he please explain the existence of the Wizarding World to them?

This was not how Dippet had expected his day to go. 

He decided he would send Albus Dumbledore to the Eriksons' home. Albus was the one who introduced Tom to the wizarding world, so Dippet reasoned to himself that Tom would feel most comfortable with Albus there.

With that decided, Dippet called Albus up to his office.

~

Tom tapped his foot nervously under the table. Today was the day that his least favorite teacher, Dumbledore, would be coming over to the flat to explain Hogwarts to James and Eliza.

He had been living with the Eriksons for two and a half weeks now and was loathe to admit that he was growing attached to them. They were constantly going out of their way to make him feel welcome. James insisted on buying him new, nice clothes, and Eliza took him to her favorite bookstore and told him to get whatever he wanted. Both of them continuously tried to get him to open up and talk with them, but though Tom felt more comfortable with it, he still acted quite reserved. James seemed to have accepted that Tom was just a very shy and introverted child, but Eliza was apparently on a mission from God to convince him to talk with her. 

"So Tom, you told us we're meeting with your Professor...Dummledair?" James asked.

"Dumbledore," Tom corrected. "He said he'd arrive at 3:30 p.m. today."

 "All right," James nodded. He noticed Tom's anxious expression and patted him on the shoulder. "It'll be fine. From what I've seen of your grades, your teachers all love you."

Tom forced a smile. It was true that most of his teachers loved him, particularly Horace Slughorn. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had never fully trusted him, despite his ideal grades and behavior.

"Why don't you go downstairs and help your mother make lunch? I know you love reading, but Eliza is insistent that you learn some basic life skills," James said, nudging Tom towards the door.

"I notice you never make lunch," Tom pointed out, smirking, in a rare moment of sass. James just pretended he didn't hear anything.

Tom didn't really like cooking - not because of Eliza, but because he was terrible at it and she saw it as a time to chat. Luckily, he was able to deflect personal questions away by asking her how the hell he was supposed to get this recipe right.

"I'll never learn..." he groaned.

"Yes, you will!" Eliza laughed. "Trust me, Tom, you'll get the hang of it eventually. Just follow the recipe."

"The recipe hates me," Tom muttered, making Eliza laugh again.

Okay, he thought to himself. Think of it like Potions. You're good at Potions, so there's no reason why you shouldn't be good at cooking. It's the same thing: ingredients and how to mix them together to get what you want. Just pretend it's Potions class...

But that didn't work as well as he had hoped, because Potions reminded him of the approaching meeting with Dumbledore, which made him nervous, so he wasn't able to concentrate very well.

Well, at least he could try and enjoy his last few hours with James and Eliza.

~

After lunch and a (rather disastrous) cooking lesson, Tom disappeared upstairs to his room.

"As soon as you want to have a nice chat, that kid is suddenly nowhere to be found," Eliza muttered to herself, smiling a little. 

She went upstairs and got ready for her meeting with Tom's teacher, Professor...Dumblydore? Dimbledair? Whatever his name was. Tom had been acting tense and skittish on the subject of the meeting. Maybe he was just scared that the teacher would tell her and James bad things about him. Well, he probably shouldn't worry. He seemed like a very good student.

It wasn't very long before 3:30 came and there was a knock on the front door.

"Tom, your teacher is here! Come downstairs!" Eliza called. A few moments later, Tom emerged from his room wearing some of the new clothes James had bought for him, looking very, very pale. Eliza gave him a reassuring smile.

Eliza hurried downstairs, Tom trailing slowly behind her. James had just answered the door to a man in odd clothing with a friendly smile.

"Mr. and Mrs. Erikson, I presume? Ah, hello Tom."

Tom gave his professor a short nod. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore."

"It's lovely to meet you," Eliza said. "Tom tells us that he loves his school. Please come sit down."

Once they were all seated in the living room, Dumbledore cleared his throat and pulled out an envelope. Something was written on it in green ink. "Now, if what the headmaster told me was correct, I am here to tell you about Tom's school. Is that correct?"

James and Eliza nodded.

"Excellent. I'll get right to it then: Tom attends a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Next to her on the couch, Tom flinched and suddenly became very interested in his shoes. Eliza raised a confused eyebrow. "Pardon me, Professor, I'm not sure I heard you right..."

"No, you heard me correctly," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "We teach magic."

"...Magic?" James questioned.

"Allow me to demonstrate," Dumbledore said, and pulled out a decorated wooden stick. "This is a wand," he said, and waved it. 

Eliza stared in utter shock as all the pieces of furniture in the room(except the ones they were sitting on) levitated into the air, and delicately lowered themselves back down.

"Y-you mean..." she stammered. "At T-Tom's school...this Hogwarts...you teach m-magic?!" 

"Exactly," Dumbledore smiled. "Of course, charms aren't all we teach. We teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, Divination, Astronomy, et cetera. I myself teach Transfiguration, and I'm told that Tom has an aptitude for Potions."

James's jaw had dropped open, and he seemed to have lost the ability of coherent speech. Tom's fists were clenched in anxiety, and he refused to meet anyone's eyes. Eliza was suddenly questioning all the science and math she had ever learned.

"Professor Dumbledore...could you possibly explain this...more clearly?" Eliza asked.

"Of course. Tom is one of very few people born with the ability to do magic. That makes him a wizard. You and your husband are Muggles, meaning that you cannot do magic. All magical children in Britain attend a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland, from ages eleven to seventeen. There, we teach subjects such as Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Astronomy, Divination, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy. The wizarding world has its own government, the Ministry of Magic. On our way to Diagon Alley, I can explain it more in detail."

"Diagon Alley?" This was getting more and more confusing.

"Yes, it's the most popular shopping area in Wizarding Britain. It will be your introduction of sorts into the Wizarding World."

Eliza was confused, but also fascinated. "Well, can we arrange a time to go?"

"My schedule is completely open, as it's summer break. If you, James, and Tom have the time, we can go now. His school supplies are listed in this letter," he said, handing them the envelope he was holding.

"I think that would work," Eliza nodded, turning to James. "What do you think?"

Some of the color had returned to her husband's face, and he nodded.

"All right then," she said. "Professor Dumbledore, let's go to Diagon Alley."

~

Tom was astonished that Eliza and James were taking this so well. Once they got over their initial shock, they were fascinated by the magical world. Dumbledore seemed happy to answer their questions as they walked around Diagon Alley.

Why were they not throwing him out right after Dumbledore? Shouldn't they be gasping in horror and taking him straight back to the orphanage and Mrs. Cole's smug face? That was what the other families had done when they learned Tom could speak to snakes and move things with his mind. A favorite label of theirs was "freak."

"So, Tom," Eliza was saying. "Have you given any thought to your future career?"

Well, you see, I was planning on taking over the country..."A little. I was thinking of applying for a teaching position at Hogwarts."

"That's wonderful," she smiled. "From what Professor Dumbledore has been telling me, you'll also have your pick of careers in the Ministry once you graduate."

"Is there such a thing as magical lawyers?" James asked.

"Unfortunately not," Dumbledore sighed. "In trials, the defendant mostly has to fend for himself or herself."

James's jaw dropped in indignation. Eliza chuckled as he started sputtering about rights and fair trials. Knowing that his rant would last several minutes, Tom was able to turn his attention back to his thoughts.

Why? Why were they accepting him? What reason(s) did they have to do so? It had to be pity. Yes, that was it. As soon as they felt they had fulfilled their duty to the poor orphan boy Tom, they would disown him and forget that he ever existed. 

It just made Tom hate the Mudbloods more. He didn't need their pity, didn't need their love and affection, didn't need their care, and he was insulted that they thought he did. He had survived just fine on his own for his entire life. It would be so very easy to just run away to the Wizarding world, get a job in some small shop, and live in the Leaky Cauldron over the summer. That would certainly be an improvement over accepting the Muggles' charity.

When Tom Marvolo Riddle became Lord Voldemort, he would show no mercy. Every Muggle would die at his hands because they all deserved too. They claimed to be good people, yet they allowed Tom to grow up in that orphanage, and nobody had ever done a damn thing to help him. Not even the little children were innocent; they would all grow up to be just like their parents if given the chance. James and Eliza were surely no different. They had adopted Tom out of a societal obligation to pretend to be caring, but they had done nothing for the other orphans. 

The trip through Diagon Alley continued. James and Eliza insisted on paying for brand-new school materials for him, despite Tom's repeated assurances that they didn't need to do anything.

"I saw your school clothes in the closet," Eliza frowned. "They looked very worn, not to mention rather small. I think you've been growing as well...we'll have to get you some new school robes. Along with new school supplies. Professor, is there a place where we can exchange Muggle money for Wizarding money?"

"Gringotts Bank can do it," Dumbledore said. "I should warn you, though, it's run by goblins. Creatures with very nasty, conniving temperaments."

"Just like lawyers, then," James grinned. "I'd like to see how the bank is run. Where is it?"

~

Eliza was concerned.

Tom seemed like the type of person to give you a long monologue on everything he knew about a subject, yet he had never volunteered any information about the magical world. He had to be asked first. 

Perhaps he was nervous. That would explain his failure to discuss Hogwarts before Dumbledore's visit, but they had been walking around Diagon Alley for a couple of hours now, and it only stood to reason that Tom would open up at least a little. Yet he had withdrawn even further into himself.

As James chattered excitedly with an annoyed goblin, Eliza squeezed Tom's hand. "You know we aren't judging you for this, don't you?" she whispered.

"Judging me for what?" Tom whispered back, though it was plain that he knew exactly what she was talking about. Eliza answered his question anyway.

"For being able to do magic. I know there's a long history of nonmagical people hunting down witches and wizards...I always assumed they were just the results of foolish superstitions. I suppose not, though."

Tom nodded in acknowledgment. "That's why Muggles don't know about the magical world."

"I'm sorry," Eliza added. Tom looked quite shocked, so she elaborated. "I'm sorry that so many people would hate you or distrust you if they knew you were a wizard."

"It-it's all right," Tom mumbled. He looked like he was going to say something else, but Eliza was pulled away by James, who was trying to show her the value of magical currency.

James was interested in learning more about the Ministry of Magic, so Dumbledore agreed to take a walk with him and explain it, while Eliza and Tom went to buy everything he needed for the upcoming school year. They arranged to meet at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour afterward.

At Flourish and Blotts', Eliza decided to let Tom get a few books for himself, which cheered him up significantly. When he returned with a large stack of heavy, difficult books, Eliza heard a snooty voice from behind her.

"Look, Father, it's Riddle. Wonder why he's got so many books; I thought he lived off of Dumbledore's charity," a boy about Tom's age with white-blond hair sniggered to his father, a nearly identical man with a similarly arrogant expression. Eliza saw that Tom's face had turned bright red in humiliation and fury.

"I told you, Abraxas, don't associate with that boy," the father said coldly and cruelly. "If he's not a pureblood, he may as well be a Mudblood...and judging from his clothing he clearly isn't a member of an old family."

Eliza felt her face turning as red as Tom's. She marched up to the blond man. "Excuse me, sir!"

He turned around and sneered. "A Muggle?! What in Merlin's name is a filthy Muggle doing in Diagon Alley?"

"Back-to-school shopping, for your information. I can't imagine anything else I'd be doing," Eliza snapped back at him. "I don't appreciate the way you've been speaking about me and my son."

"Son!" Abraxas laughed. "So, Riddle, someone finally took pity on you and let you and your dirty blood into their house!"

Tom looked like he wanted to whip out his wand and curse the prat into the next dimension, but Eliza gave him a warning look and he held back. 

"Now, I don't know your name-"

"Malfoy," the father said pretentiously. "Claudius Malfoy, whose family is one of the most powerful, respected, and pureblooded in Britain."

"Mr. Malfoy, then. If it doesn't wound your ego too much, I'd like you to apologize," Eliza said with her hands on her hips.

"Apologize?" Malfoy smirked. "Apologize for being correct? Because both you and your son are nothing but slimy, mudblooded, worthless-"

He was cut off by Eliza backhanding him across the face.

Tom's jaw dropped and Abraxas gasped in horrified affront. Eliza didn't know she had it in her to slap someone who could likely kill her with a wave of his wand, but something about Malfoy treating Tom in such a cruel, demeaning manner had set something off inside of her. 

Malfoy was standing there, Eliza's fiery handprint on his cheek, too stunned for words. Probably no one, much less a Muggle, had dared to hit him before. 

"Come on, Tom," Eliza said briskly. "Let's pay for your books, and then we can go." They had bought all that he needed already, so Eliza led him to the ice cream shop, where Dumbledore and James were waiting.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Wow, this one was hard to write. I hope I have everything written realistically and just properly in general.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

September 1, 1942

Tom let Eliza adjust his Slytherin tie and brand-new prefect badge one last time before he got on the train. She and James had been very proud of Tom's new position as prefect and insisted on taking him out for dinner to celebrate. Tom had even allowed himself to smile in front of them for the occasion, something he had been doing with increased frequency. 

"Eliza, stop fussing over him," James sighed. "He looks fine and he's not a child anymore."

"I know, I know," she mumbled, giving Tom a once-over. "All right, dear, are you ready to go?"

Tom nodded. He was delighted to return to Hogwarts, even though this summer had been infinitely better than the ones before. He would treasure the memory of Eliza slapping Claudius Malfoy for the rest of his life.

James gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Good luck. Study hard for your exams - what are they called again?"

"O.W.L.s. Ordinary Wizarding Levels."

"Yes, that's right. You wizards have some strange names."

"You haven't heard what they name their children," Tom said with a slight smile. "One textbook author is named Aldabert Waffling. There's also Arsenius Jigger and Phyllida Spore."

Eliza let out an unladylike snort. "Please tell me those are silly pen names..."

"Unfortunately not."

James looked over at the many children and teenagers crowding onto the Hogwarts Express. "You'd better get on the train now, Tom."

"Goodbye," Tom said, giving them an awkward wave. "I'll write to you."

Eliza gave him a tight hug, which Tom returned, to the surprise of both of them. She kissed him on the forehead. "Enjoy your time at Hogwarts, Tom. I expect you'll do very well. Don't forget to stay out of trouble, study hard for your O.W.L.s, fulfill your responsibilities as prefect-"

"Stop pestering the poor boy, Eliza, or else he'll miss the train!" 

Tom gave both of his parents one last quick hug, before grabbing his suitcase and hurrying onto the train. He got on just in time before the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the station.

~

September 5, 1942

 

Dear Eliza & James,

The new school year is going very well so far. I'm enjoying my position as prefect. That bigot Abraxas Malfoy hasn't been giving me any trouble, maybe because he didn't get a badge.

I have to do prefect patrols in the corridors at night. All that means is that I walk around the hallways and make sure nobody's getting into any trouble and breaking curfew. Not only is it boring, but I think Walburga Black's cat has it out for me. He's been prowling around and attempting sneak attacks. I have several scratches on my legs.

The teachers are giving us quite a bit of extra homework. As you know, I have to take my O.W.L.s this year, so I have to double down on studying and homework. It's also a lot harder than normal. I'm doing most of my work in the library. 

Not much of anything interesting has been happening. Other than the coursework, it's a fairly typical year at Hogwarts. I'll give you updates if anything new happens. I hope you're doing well in London. 

-Tom

~

September 10, 1942

 

Dear Tom,

We're glad school is going well for you! Don't abuse your power with Abraxas Malfoy, though he may deserve it. Sorry about the cat, and that prefect patrols are boring.

Good luck on your homework. We hope it isn't too much. What O.W.L.s are you planning to take?

Of course, you'll want to come home for Christmas and your birthday. We'll meet you at Platform 9 3/4 when Christmas holidays begin. Do send us a list of presents you'd like. We have a few ideas, but we'd love to hear from you.

Love,
James & Eliza

~

Tom wrapped his coat tighter around himself to shield against the howling winds and flying snow. So far, the winter holidays looked like they were going to be stormy and freezing.

He was privately delighted that James and Eliza invited him home for the winter holidays, but there was one major drawback: it put serious setbacks on his plan to find the Chamber of Secrets. At least 90% of the school was gone for Christmas and New Year's, making it a perfect time to search the school without having to look over one's shoulder for nosy prefects.

But...Tom had to admit to himself that he was having doubts. Doubts about unleashing the Basilisk and creating a Horcrux. Every time he thought of his soon-to-be immorality, his thoughts were mixed with Eliza's sad, horrified, disappointed face. It had an annoyingly strong effect on him. Tom felt like the two sides of his brain were at war.

This is your chance to begin your plans of immortality and world domination! Don't you DARE throw that chance away!

But James and Eliza...

Who cares about them?!

They'd be so disappointed, and they've been so nice and caring!

Don't care. They'll live with their grief.

You're going to take over the Muggle world and turn all of the Muggles into slaves. That includes them. Do you really think they deserve that?

Sacrifices must be made to do great things.

Tom resolved to listen to the voice urging him to continue with his plans. No matter how nice the Eriksons had been, he wasn't going to let a silly emotion like love get in his way.

LOVE?! the other voice taunted. So you do love them!

Scowling to himself, Tom found an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express and tossed his suitcase on the ground rather roughly. He did not love James and Eliza. There was no way. He had sworn off emotional attachment a long time ago, particularly to Muggles

But Eliza's face wouldn't leave his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

At least consider other options, the voice urged him. There are plenty of lucrative careers in the Wizarding world.

To Tom's great vexation, he found himself thinking about what N.E.W.T.s he would have to take to work in the Department of Mysteries or as a professor at Hogwarts. He spent the rest of the train ride arguing with himself over the benefits of a normal career as opposed to a Dark Lord.

He wiped the thoughts away as he stepped off the train onto Platform 9 3/4, looking around for James and Eliza among the mass of families waiting to greet the other students. Spotting James and Eliza's smiling faces in the crowd, he waved and hurried over to them.

They rushed over and hugged him tightly. Tom returned the hug to the best of his ability with a suitcase in his hand. Eliza pulled away after several seconds and kissed his forehead. "How was Hogwarts, Tom?"

"Fine. I have all O's in my classes so far."

"That's wonderful!" Eliza led him back onto the Muggle platform towards their car. "Are you excited about Christmas?"

Tom nodded. It was true; this Christmas was the only one he had looked forward to in his entire life. Maybe for once, he would actually have a happy Christmas and a happy birthday.

~

Tom yawned and stretched, rubbing his eyes. The pale light seeping through the curtains told him that morning had come, and with it, his sixteenth birthday. Outside, a few light snowflakes flew down onto the hills of snow outside his window.

The Christmas season was just ending. Eliza had made him and James decorate the Christmas tree while she cooked Christmas Eve dinner in the kitchen. It had been one of Tom's happiest days, not that he would admit it. He had received several classic Muggle novels for Christmas presents, including The Count of Monte Cristo and Crime and Punishment

Tom rolled out of bed and got dressed. He wondered if he could convince Eliza to make pancakes for breakfast again. (If he could, he'd have to make sure to eat them quickly before James ate them all first.)

When he got downstairs, Eliza was already in the kitchen. "Happy birthday, Tom!" she grinned. "What do you want me to make for breakfast?"

"You got up before me?!" was Tom's response.

She laughed. "Quite the achievement, isn't it? James said you'd want pancakes, but I thought I'd ask you first."

"He was right. Your pancakes are even better than the ones made at Hogwarts."

"Thank you! Go wake up James, and then come back down and tell me how many chocolate chips you want in your pancakes."

~

James's jaw dropped. "You gave him how many?!?!"

"It's his birthday!" Eliza said defensively. "Besides, the amount of syrup that goes on your pancakes-"

"Tom's pancake wasn't a pancake, it was a giant chocolate chip. He's going to get a stomachache."

"No I won't," Tom said.

James chuckled. "Well, if you do, it's your own fault for wanting 'as many as you're willing to give me.'"

"All right, Tom, are you ready to open your presents?" Eliza smiled. "We took a trip to Diagon Alley to buy them."

Tom gave her a curious look, but James was already ushering him into the living room. "Sit down and close your eyes," he instructed.

"Aren't the presents wrapped?" Tom asked, putting his hands over his eyes.

"They are."

"Then why do have to close my eyes?" he pointed out.

"Contrary young man."

James handed him a box covered in bright blue wrapping paper. Tom opened it, revealing a book with a cover of black leather embossed with a silver Slytherin crest. He gasped in delight.

"The Complete History of Slytherin House," James said with a smile. "It cost a ridiculous amount of money, but it was worth it."

"Thank you!" Tom beamed. There was a copy of this book in the Hogwarts library, but he could only check it out so many times.

"You're welcome," Eliza said, ruffling his hair. "We have one more present for you." She pulled a small ebony box out of her pocket and handed it to him.

Tom opened the lid of the box to reveal a silver watch. It was tarnished a little around the edges, with tiny diamonds in a circle surrounding the black clock. It looked very old and very valuable.

"It's my grandfather's watch," Eliza said with a smile. "Passed down to my father, and then down to me."

"It's beautiful. Why are you giving it to me?"

"The tradition is that it be given from father to eldest son of the family, but I'm obviously a daughter and Father's only child. So, since you're the eldest son, you should have it."

Son.

Tom slipped the watch onto his wrist. It would have to be polished and cleaned up, but it was a very nice heirloom. Abraxas would lose his mind when he saw that Tom had both the ultimate book on Slytherin House and a piece of jewelry to rival the Malfoys' stupid silver accessories...

~

Eliza waited anxiously at Platform 9 3/4. When she had last seen Tom, it was the winter holidays - he had requested to stay at school during Easter to complete some of his final projects. When he left for Hogwarts on that stormy, snowy day, he had seemed conflicted and nervous. In her letters to him, she had dropped subtle hints that she was worried about him, but he seemed to be purposely ignoring them.

Eliza couldn't help but feel that something had been wrong with Tom or his mental health. Call it mother's instinct, people-reading skills, or simply a gut feeling, but she wasn't going to let him brush off her questions this time. Any moment now, the Hogwarts Express would arrive and he would step off the train to a highly suspicious mother. He had been agonizing over something that freezing January morning, and she was going to find out what it was.

In a billowing cloud of steam, the bright red train pulled into the station. Eliza and James scanned the faces of the children and teenagers stepping off the engine, promising to write to their friends over the summer as they ran to their welcoming families. Tom was one of the last ones to leave, exchanging a vindictive glare with Abraxas Malfoy. 

He saw Eliza and James, and his face broke out into a rare smile as he hurried towards them. Before either of the Eriksons could say a word, Tom tossed his suitcase aside and wrapped them both into a crushing hug. Eliza gasped a little in surprise but hugged him back. Tom was never this affectionate with them, so a warm hug was quite a rare(yet pleasant) occurrence.

"How did your O.W.L. exams go?" James asked.

"They went well, I think."

"Have you given any thought to your future career?"

"Well, Professor Slughorn said I'd do well in the Department of Mysteries."

"That's the secretive one, isn't it?" Eliza asked. "The one where they do strange magical experiments?"

"Yes," Tom confirmed. "I thought about applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts since Professor Merrythought will be retiring soon, but I talked to Headmaster Dippet about it and he said I'd be too young."

Tom continued to talk with James and Eliza for the rest of the car ride home - also not very habitual of him. When they got home, Eliza sent him upstairs to unpack his things while she went over what she wanted to say to him in her head.

Steeling her resolve and straightening her spine, Eliza knocked on his door.

"Come in."

Tom was sitting on his bed reading The Complete History of Slytherin House for what was probably the fiftieth time. Eliza sat down next to him, and he shut the book and set it aside. "What is it?"

"I've been a little worried about you."

"If it's about the exams-"

"No, not the O.W.L.s. When you left for Hogwarts this winter, you seemed...upset and out-of-sorts."

Tom bit his lower lip nervously, confirming for Eliza that he was hiding something. 

"I wanted to make sure everything was okay," Eliza continued tentatively. "You know you can talk to me if something's bothering you."

There was a long pause. Tom fiddled with the edge of the blanket. Finally, he spoke.

"How much do you know of my biological parents?"

"A little," Eliza admitted. "I wrote to Dumbledore and asked him. He told me about your mother Merope and her...relationship...with your father Tom Riddle Senior."

"Did he tell you that the members of the Gaunt family are the last remaining descendants of Salazar Slytherin?"

Eliza gasped. "No...no, he did not. That would mean that you're..."

Tom nodded, looking pained. "The last descendant. The Heir of Slytherin."

"Heir of Slytherin?..."

Tom swallowed, the anxiety on his face increasing. "Slytherin built a chamber. Underneath the school. In it, he hid a monster - a Basilisk. A giant snake that can kill with both its venom and mere eye contact. It was supposedly for..." he closed his eyes, wincing. "...For the purpose of eliminating all Muggleborns from the school."

"Killing them?" Eliza whispered. Tom nodded.

"Only the Heir of Slytherin can open the Chamber of Secrets, as the doorway is sealed with a password in Parseltongue, the language of snakes. Only Slytherin's descendants can speak it, so only they can open the doorway."

"You can open it," Eliza murmured. He nodded again. "Did you?"

"Almost," he whispered. "I wanted to make...make a..." Tom closed his eyes again. "A Horcrux."

"Horcrux?"

"You split your soul," he said in a voice so quiet and pained that Eliza could hardly understand him. "You kill someone in cold blood, and you split your soul and hide part of it in an object, so even if your physical body dies, you are still alive."

Eliza could barely speak in her horror. "Why would you want to do that, Tom?"

"I'm terrified," he admitted, close to tears. "I'm terrified of death. The Blitz-" His voice cracked. "It made me want to stay alive forever."

Eliza hated to ask the question, but she knew she had to. "Did you make a Horcrux, Tom?"

"I came so close," Tom murmured, a tear dripping down his cheek. "I was standing right there, right in front of the entrance to the Chamber. I was all ready to do it, to unleash the Basilisk on some classmate..." His voice cracked again. "But then, for some reason, I thought of you."

"Me?"

"I knew how sad and disappointed you would be...so disappointed that I had wasted my potential for something so callous and cruel that might not even guarantee immortality. And I knew that before you make big decisions, you always think it through one last time before going through with it."

"You thought your plans through once more?" Eliza asked, praying that it was true.

"Yes. And I..." Another tear trickled from his eye. "I decided not to."

Relief rushed through Eliza's body, but it was soon interrupted.

"I'm sorry, Mum. I'm so, so sorry-" Tom flung his arms around Eliza, burying his face in her shoulder and sobbing.

Eliza was taken aback, but she hugged him tightly and stroked his hair. "Shh, Tom, it's okay. It's okay."

He didn't respond, unable to amid his sobs.

As Eliza rocked Tom back and forth, she took a moment to examine her thoughts. She was horrified that Tom had seriously considered such an appalling prospect, but he hadn't done it, had he? He came to his senses before it was too late, and abandoned his plans.

Her son had made the right choice. 

Even if Tom had killed a student and made a Horcrux, Eliza knew she would still love him. It was a funny thing about motherhood - you could never stop loving your child, no matter what they did. It was right as that thought hit her that something else sunk it: Tom had called her Mum.

Eliza felt an overwhelming sense of happiness. Tom had done the right, sensible thing, and he considered her his mother.

Tom finally stopped crying. He cautiously looked up into his mother's eyes. 

"Tom," Eliza said in a serious tone of voice. "I can't pretend that I'm happy with what you wanted to do."

He bowed his head in shame.

"But," she went on, and Tom looked up again. "I also can't pretend that I'm not proud of you for making the right decision." She smiled a little.

"Thank you," Tom mumbled, holding back more tears and resting his head against her shoulder. "I don't know what I was thinking, Mum-"

"Neither do I. But I will always love you, Tom. Both me and James."

"Promise?" he whispered.

"Promise," she assured him. "I'll be here for you, no matter what. Do you understand?"

Tom nodded. "I love you, Mum," he murmured, smiling softly through his remaining tears.

Notes:

Aaand...that concludes our story!

I'm considering writing an epilogue. It would give both Tom and the readers closure on Tom Riddle Senior, and we would get to see some other P.O.V.s. Thoughts?

Chapter 4: Epilogue

Notes:

There. Since you've been pestering me in the comments, I finally wrote an epilogue.

Chapter Text

London, July 6th, 1950.

 

Tom Marvolo Riddle was sitting at his kitchen table, trying to fix his damn teakettle. The crook in Diagon Alley had told him that it was specially enchanted to brew tea all by itself. Now the thing was trying to brew coffee. Whatever enchantment that idiot had put on it was grossly faulty; all of Tom's efforts to undo the spell had failed. He was about to curse it into next week when he heard an impatient tapping at the windowsill. 

That must be it.  Stomach swaying with nervousness, Tom retrieved the letter and sent the owl off with some treats. He sat back down at the table and flipped it open.

Dear Mr. Riddle,

It greatly pleases me to inform you that your petition to begin a Department of Attorneys and Legal Services in the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been accepted. As per your request, you will be instated as head of the department and may employ and train your own attorneys. Given the number of defendants that are tried by the Wizengamot, it is recommended that you open up as soon as possible. Though your law school curriculum is well-thought-out and detailed, we also suggest that you consult professors at Hogwarts for ideas and improvements. 

I congratulate you on this revolutionary step in improving our justice system, and I believe that you and your department will do quite a lot of good.

Sincerely,

Wilhelmina Tuft

Minister for Magic

Tom stared in shock at the piece of paper for a moment. They had agreed. Somehow, the Ministry had allowed his proposal of a department full of defense attorneys. He expected there to be strong pushback from the Wizengamot, but still. He had won, for now.

Tom reminded himself to send a letter to James thanking him. He had been instrumental in helping Tom write his proposal. (Unfortunately, Tom couldn't give him credit as co-author, because having a Muggle's name on the paper would only decrease the astronomically small chances of it passing.) Like hell he'd be writing to anybody at Hogwarts for "ideas and improvements," though. He had asked Slughorn to pull a few favors for him, but that was where the professors' usefulness ended. They didn't know shit about anything legal, and Dumbledore would have done his utmost to keep Tom from a position of power in the Ministry. (Dumbledore's attitude towards Tom had improved since meeting James and Eliza, but there was still an air of suspicion.)

I win, Dumbles, Tom thought smugly as he began to write his reply to Minister Tuft.

~

It was the obituary that caught Tom's eye. He had been casually flipping through the Muggle newspaper, mostly for anything noteworthy the Muggles were doing, and a name and photograph had jumped out to him: Thomas Frederick Riddle. The man in the picture had a resemblance to Tom. Though he was much older and had a beard, they were undoubtedly related.

Knowing that to be his paternal grandfather, Tom scanned the page.

The successful businessman and landowner Thomas Frederick Riddle passed away yesterday, on July 5th, 1950, in his hometown of Little Hangleton. He was 77 years old.

Thomas is survived by his wife, Mary Louise Riddle (née Williams), his sister Catherine Isabella White, and his son Tom Edmund Riddle. 

Thomas was born in Little Hangleton on March 3rd, 1873 to Richard and Annabelle Riddle. He graduated from Cambridge with a degree in economics, shifting his focus from business to landownership upon inheriting his father's estate in 1912. In 1902, he married the love of his life Mary, and the couple welcomed their only child Tom three years later.

Thomas was a devoted father and a man of many hobbies, including horseback riding, piano, travel, and painting.

A funeral service will be held on July 8th in the Little Hangleton churchyard at 1:30 p.m. If desired, flowers and condolences may be sent to 101 Rose Boulevard, Little Hangleton, Yorkshire.

Well. Wasn't that an interesting little story. Tom felt a pang of irrational jealously that he went unlisted among the surviving family members.

He considered James to be his father and had started getting comfortable with the idea of calling him Dad. But it felt wrong to not attend the funeral of his grandfather. 

~

Sheets of rain poured down on the people gathered in attendance. Tom scanned the faces of those who had bothered to show up, searching for anybody familiar.

There were several businessmen huddling together, shivering in the downpour and muttering among themselves about the weather. Tom figured they were close associates or friends of his grandfather. Either way, he didn't care about them.

There were also a few townspeople milling about. They seemed like they were only there out of obligation, and the only thing they were truly sad about was that they had to stand here in the rain. Apparently, the Riddles weren't very popular around town.

The family members, though. That interested Tom. They were standing around the coffin, shivering from both their tears and the rain. An elderly woman stood with her husband, three adult children, and a small collection of grandchildren and spouses. Presumably, that was Thomas' sister Catherine and her family. 

Another old woman leaned over Thomas Riddle's coffin, weeping and wiping her eyes with a lace handkerchief. That must be my grandmother, Tom thought with a sense of shock. He knew she existed, of course, but it was something else seeing her in the flesh.

What made his heart jump into his throat even more, though, was the man rubbing Mary's shoulder. Even from a distance, Tom could see the obvious resemblances. Wavy black hair(though the other man's was styled much better), sharp cheekbones, and deep, dark eyes. If Tom had been around two decades older, they would have been identical twins.

Tom was suddenly frozen in his footsteps, hardly able to form a coherent thought. James Edward Erikson may have been the man raising him, but Tom Edmund Riddle was the man from whom he must have gotten 95% of his genetic material. They had a connection, like it or not.

Tom watched the rest of the funeral from a distance, keeping a close eye on his father. Tom Riddle Senior didn't react much to anything. He was probably disassociated from the whole thing. Tom knew; he had done similar things when faced with stressful situations. The tears and emotional reaction always took some time to really sink in, which gave the impression that he was heartless and unfeeling. Maybe his father had been accused of something similar. That thought only drove home the point that Tom was this man's son.

After an hour or two, the funeral ended and the guests began to drift back home. Part of Tom wanted to run up and greet his father, but he knew that given the circumstances, that would be a very bad choice.

Seeing Tom Riddle Senior had given him a little bit of closure, but not enough. Trying to visit him in person would not end well, and Tom didn't want to establish a personal relationship. It wouldn't be fair to his mum and dad.

A phone call would go equally well, which is to say, not at all. So he decided that a letter would be the easiest route to go. It would give his father the gist of the situation and allow him to digest it without having to stumble through awkward conversations.  

~

Tom spent many long hours at his desk, writing and rewriting letters, trying to get the wording just right. Every time he thought he had something usable, he reread it and found a glaring flaw. Not concise enough, too simplistic, rambling, poor word choice, not enough detail, too sentimental, not sentimental enough.

At around 2:30 a.m., when his trash bin was full of crumpled-up letters, Tom finally gave up on the idea.

He took his favorite photo of him and his parents out of its picture frame. It was a photo of his graduation party from a few years ago. There was a banner declaring so in the background, and everybody in the photo was beaming. It was a very good picture, even if it was a non-moving Muggle one.

Tom duplicated the photo, returning the original to its frame and turning the other one over to scribble on its back.

James, Eliza, and Tom. London, June 1945. 

There. That conveyed all the information it needed too. 

1) Tom Riddle Senior had a son who was the right age to be his and Merope's child. Said son was undoubtedly his given the strong facial resemblance.

2) His son was living in a good home with a family that loved and cared for him.

3) His son had graduated from secondary school and therefore had job and life prospects.

Tom slid the photograph into an envelope. On the front, he wrote  Tom Riddle, 101 Rose Boulevard, Little Hangleton, Yorkshire.  He didn't put a return address, which also sent a message.

Tom walked down to a Muggle mailbox, took a deep breath, and slipped the letter in. 

Notes:

Why the actual literal fuck is this my most popular story. It's ridiculous fluffy nonsense that I wrote when I was like thirteen. It's not even that good it's just Tom Riddle angst---wait I think that's the reason it's popular. God, is the Harry Potter fandom strange.

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