Pity the Living ♔ Tom Riddle

14 || Burning Bridges

July 1938

Diagon Alley, London.

Staring up at the burning remains of the building, Gisela and Tom's hearts sunk into their stomachs as they realised they had lost everything. The painful shards of glass that sunk into their skin and fractured limbs were nothing but a sting at the thought of losing all the belongings they had worked so hard for. Hiding behind a rubbish bin, Gisela began to pick the shards of glass out of Tom's hands, healing each cut with her wand as best she could. The nine-year-old was shaking in fury and pain, desperately trying to stop the tears threatening to leave his eyes. Smoke began to engulf the area, making it impossible for Gisela to see any escape route. Both winded from the high fall, preventing them from running without collapsing.

It was at this moment, Gisela reached up to the pendant hidden around her neck and grasped it. Closing her eyes, she thought of her uncle, far away in her grand school. A loud pop and the very man she thought of was standing beside them.

"My God!" he swore, as he stared at the two children huddled on the street. In all his years, Klaus Grindelwald had only ever encountered such a horrific sight once before. Both were seriously injured, surrounded by scorching heat and smoke so thick he could only just make out the faces of the children sheltering behind the bin. He vaguely recognised his surroundings as Diagon Alley, and his despair only heightened.

Acting quickly, he picked both of them up in his arms with difficulty, noting that they had both grown significantly since he first met them. Apparating on the spot, he landed in the secret hideaway room of the German Magical Embassy, the only place he knew would be safe. It was a simple room, with no windows, polished wooden flooring and peeling blood red wallpaper. Placing the children down on the single, black leather couch in the corner of the room, he immediately set to the task of healing their injuries.

"What on earth has happened?" he exclaimed

"They blew the pub up," said Tom coldly, "Grindelwald's men."

Klaus' face turned stark white, with both horror and confusion. There were not meant to be any attacks on English soil until the Belgium matter had been taken care of, and even then only after negotiation talks had taken place. On a more personal level, he thought his cousin would avoid Dumbledore at all cost until necessary.

How had he not known about this?

"Are you sure?" he frowned.

"Ja, Uncle," shivered Gisela, "it was most definitely them."

"We've lost all our money and our belongings," Tom added.

Klaus looked at both of them with pity and confusion.

"Money? I thought I had paid for your accommodation before," he frowned.

"I've been working in the kitchen to pay for Tommy's things he needs for school," she replied, grabbing Tom's hand that was now fully healed, "so he doesn't look poor."

"Oh, Gisela," he exclaimed in dismay, "of course I would've paid for Tom as well. All you needed to do was ask!"

His response was met with shocked looks on both children's faces, with Tom's face settling into a small grin, which quickly disappeared as another episkey was cast on his broken ribs. Klaus was sure this was the only time he had seen the boy smile, even if just for a moment. How they were coping with the pain, without a single tear shed, was quite frankly remarkable in his mind. With both children healed to the best of his ability, he knew he must take action in case anyone were to find them here and start asking questions.

"I believe it is best you return to the orphanage, Tom, as someone from Hogwarts will be coming to collect you soon enough. Gisela, you should come with me. I have a secret apartment with anti-apparition wards, among other protections, that you and Tom can live in from next summer. I don't like to separate you in the meantime, but if someone from Hogwarts gets even a hint of your existence Gisela, particularly Dumbledore, there could be trouble," he sighed, sitting down on a large armchair while the children huddled on the couch in their nightclothes.

Both children looked both angry and defeated at his suggestion because despite how much they wanted to reject it, they knew Klaus was right. If this what the sort of behaviour of Grindelwald's men, Tom couldn't imagine what their enemies would do to Gisela in revenge.

"Will I get to see Tommy before he starts school, Uncle? I don't want to say goodbye to this early," she pouted.

"Of course not, I can stay with you until Tom gets his visit. Once he has been given his school supplies list from Hogwarts, he can come to stay with us," he replied, "and then I will happily replenish your wardrobes and book collections."

Both children's expressions lit up with glee with the reassurance that their treasured possessions will be replaced and Tom's future secured. Tom supposed he could endure a few nights in hell before he could escape that hellhole of an orphanage forever, and he'd also like to say some well-deserved goodbyes.

*

Professor Dumbledore was not what Tom had expected, nor appreciated. The man who had been portrayed as a great and kind wizard in the Newspapers was not at all reminiscent of how he had spoken to Tom. The man had immediately come across as cautious, entitled and unsympathetic from the moment he set foot in his room. Tom, ever playing his part, pretended to know nothing of the Wizarding World, and had thankfully persuaded the man that he did not need an escort to Diagon Alley for his Wizarding supplies. For all the man seemed unpleasant, it was not until he confronted Tom for stealing that the young boy began to despise the man.

"Stealing is not tolerated at Hogwarts, Tom," he had the audacity to say.

Tom wasn't stealing anything. He was taking his rightful revenge on the nasty orphans who tormented him and insulted his Gisela. Not to mention the food he was hiding. Was he supposed to starve? How did this man expect him to make it to Hogwarts without raiding the bakeries undetected?

The Professor thought he was so smart, thinking he'd caught Tom in a lie. What the old man wasn't aware of is how smoothly Tom had manipulated the conversation with the greatest shock of all. How the old man must be a doctor wanting to send him to an Asylum. How perfectly surprised he was that Magic existed. How he agreed to return the belongings he had claimed. The man thought himself a genius and yet he was nothing but a fool to the eleven-year-old's tricks. The arrogance of the man to think he could tell Tom what to do.

Tom Riddle did not like Albus Dumbledore at all. He disliked him so much that not only did he not return his trophies, he acquired some new ones.

After the man in his undignified attire and beady eyes left the premises, Tom gave the orphanage a final shock before leaving. The now cowering, scared little bitch, Amy Benson - still scarred from an experience in a cave by the sea - seemed to have lost all her belongings, now burning in his fireplace. In fact, not only Amy Benson was missing her belongings; every person who ever uttered a mean word about Tom was. Even Mrs Cole.

After the bombing of the Leaky Cauldron, he was beginning to see the benefits of fire. Despite the scars that littered his body, hidden from sight under his long shirt and pants, the flames did a wonderful job of destroying everything in their path.

Alcohol makes a quick and beautiful flame when poured all over the numerous trinkets that would soon cease to exist, along with every wall and piece of furniture in the room. Miraculously, as though due to an act of magic, the orphanage didn't set aflame when Tom Riddle tried to burn every trophy and his entire room down with them. The fourteen bottles of whisky certainly helped to leave the room a charred skeleton, however. But an uncontrollable force of magic contained the event to only his bedroom and undetected by any other occupant of the building. He supposed that horrible man who came to visit had something to do with it, especially after the room repaired itself to its original state, as though untouched, within minutes.

How disappointing. 

Giving an exasperated sigh, Tom looked at the dinky dark room, with its broken window latch, hard bed, wobbly desk and clogged chimney with disdain for the last time in what would be many years, with hatred and sadness at what he had to deal with as a consequence of his mother giving up on life and leaving him to rot. If not for Gisela, he cannot imagine how he'd have survived.

With nothing to bring with him and nothing to leave behind, he slammed the door.