Metanoia~ Tom Riddle

Chapter 25

Severus had left. It was a short, curt goodbye, one drained completely of happiness and warmth... Not at all one you would expect from two old friends. Veruca had cried after he was gone. She sat on the cold ground and cried for Lily, for her son. She hadn't ever even thought that Lily's son would be a target, that he wouldn't be safe.

She didn't know how long she sat there, crying and staring into space, unable to fully process the fact that she failed. Her mind scrambled to find sense in the mess of heartbreak and disbelief clouding her thoughts.

"I tried," she said.

"I didn't try hard enough," she cried.

There was this cloud of regret and disbelief fogging her mind, and that was when she pulled out her wand. Her heartbreak had turned to rage and she threw every dark spell she knew at the walls surrounding her. After a while she collapsed, magically and mentally exhausted.

Veruca fell asleep to the sound of crashing waves.

*

Veruca had long since aparated to a village and checked into a room. Madam Cheshire's was a cozy inn, run by a Mr. Cheshire who had been widowed many decades ago.

Having neglected her dinner, she sat on the bed, numb. She knew it was hopeless, but she couldn't bring her thoughts away from her biggest flaw- quite unintelligently, there was no plan B. There was nothing for her to do, no other way.

Veruca shook her head at herself when she realized she wasn't even worried for the future, she was worried for Tom. She hadn't learned enough about him but the girl knew he had grown on her. She felt as though she had failed him, an innocent... sort of. She knew she didn't want to be done, yet.

Veruca didn't like leaving tasks unfinished, and she definitely didn't like feeling the way she did right now. Who in their right mind would enjoy feeling so helpless? Her mind began working through possible ways to fix the damage done, a way to re-work the story. She refused to give up. Her brain would not allow defeat.

Moving to the wash bin, Veruca rinsed her face, lightly massaging her temples. She glared at herself in the mirror, she remembered the smell of the rooms she was raised in, the beatings for misbehaving, the sleepless nights wondering why no one seemed to love her. She remembered it all.

She knew for a fact that Tom did as well, that he too could still feel the cold glares and the hate. They were both just babies when placed in such horrific 'care'. She should've fought for Tom as she'd fight for her life. That thought made her freeze. She realized then, that she made a mistake somewhere, yes, but that maybe, just maybe it wasn't too late to fix it. Veruca began wondering where she could've done better... Or, maybe it wasn't where she could've done better... maybe it was when.

Then, all of a sudden, the little light behind her eyes flickered to life. New thoughts raced through her head; What if? What could this mean? What would it do? Would it even work?

"I'd need some help," she whispered to her reflection. When a certain starry eyed feline popped in her head, Veruca smiled a small smile- before watching it fall to a frown. What if it wouldn't work? Severus told her to lay low, Voldemort may now be after her.

Then she realized she didn't really have much to lose. Except my life. She thought, rolling her eyes sarcastically. But what was that really? What was the point of hiding? There was nothing Veruca wanted to live for, nothing she needed to live for- except for this. Tom.

"This has to work..." she sighed, pulling out a journal. She read over the important notes she had taken on the early years of one Tom Marvolo Riddle. Veruca then began a new list entirely, titled;

Tom scriptor Memoriam Recreated

*

When the sun had just begun to peak above the horizon Sunday morning, Veruca had already gathered what little emergency belongings she'd had and begun walking along a beach, brainstorming through her plans.

What she wanted to achieve was risky, and while she was already, most likely, a dead woman to Voldemort, if young Tom Riddle caught on she would have two extremely dangerous wizards after her. In which, the chances of her own survival were not great, let alone the survival of the wizarding world.

But... that teensy tiny little 'what if?' kept surfacing in Veruca's mind. What if it worked? What if it helped him? What if she succeeded?

What if?