June 8th, 1941,
Tonight was our end of term feast, and tomorrow we head back to the orphanage. Gryffindor won the house cup again - third year in a row - much to the disappointment of the Slytherins.
Right now, I've taken a break from packing. It's taking me an exceptionally long time to pack, as I just don't want to go back to Mme. Westyn's. I really wish Tom and I could stay here for the summer.
I have a bad feeling that Tom is bringing that nauseating snake of his along with us.
"Are you finally all packed?" Sophie asked.
"Mmm ... yep."
It was Monday, and Miriam was the last to leave the Gryffindor common room. She had waited until the very last minute to finish packing her trunk.
"Trust me," she replied, "if you had to go back to Madam Westyn's for the summer, you'd take forever to pack, too."
~*~
Waiting around for the Hogwarts Express to pull up, Miriam went into great detail about their lives at the orphanage.
"Then when Tom and I were six," she continued, "Madam Westyn made us scrub the floors until they were ‘clean enough to eat off.' All because we had tracked snow inside...."
Marcella and Sophie both looked completely horror-struck. Sophie opened her mouth to say something, but the train pulled up and let out a loud whistle. Thankfully, Miriam didn't have to go into any more horror stories of Tom's and her youth.
A few hours later, Tom and Miriam were back in the outskirts of Little Hangleton and back in Madam Westyn's Home for Orphaned Children.
Though they sat for most of the trip back, Tom and Miriam were emotionally exhausted when they arrived back in Little Hangleton. Grabbing their respective trunks, they dragged them up the stone steps and into their dormitories, where they received glowers from the other children.
"So, how was that little freak school of yours?" a girl asked. Miriam looked up and saw a girl with brunette hair sitting on the edge of her bed.
"You're sitting on my bed. Please move," Miriam replied, ignoring the girl's question.
"Make me move," the girl taunted. She grabbed a fist-full of Miriam's comforter and didn't budge.
"I don't want to play these games," Miriam said more forcefully. "Move it... now!"
"I said, make me," the girl sneered.
Miriam sighed, reached into her jacket, and pulled out her wand. Pointing it squarely at the girl, she said fiercely, "Move it or lose it."
The girls' eyes grew wide. "You wouldn't dare!" she squeaked, looking at Miriam and then down at her wand.
"Oh, yeah? Try me."
"Madam Westyn! Madam Westyn!" the girl shrieked loudly.
Madam Westyn came bounding up the steps and threw open the door to the girls' dormitories with a loud bang. She saw Miriam with her wand pointed directly at the brunette girl, who was cowering on Miriam's bed.
"What in the bloody hell is going on up here?" Madam Westyn exclaimed. "Miss Riddle! What on earth do you think you're doing?"
"She was teasing me and wouldn't get off my bed," Miriam replied, keeping her eyes planted firmly on the girl.
The girl on the bed started to cry. "I was merely playing and all. She... she hexed me! She put a curse on me!"
"I swear I didn't do anything to her!" Miriam said, finally taking her eyes off the girl and looking directly at Madam Westyn.
"You, young lady, are in deep trouble!" boomed Madam Westyn. Grabbing Miriam by the arm, she dragged her forcefully down the steps and shoved her violently into her office. As Madam Westyn sat down behind her desk, Miriam gently massaged the spot on her arm where Westyn had grabbed her. Even just touching it made her want to wince.
"I pride myself on being able to raise you orphans with a strong sense of wholesomeness and family. For thirteen years, I've tried to stomp out any bit of the magic that flows through you. When it proved futile, I turned a blind eye to it all, but this has gone on long enough," Madam Westyn snarled. "It's bad enough you and your brother are even going to that... place, but now you've gone and endangered one of my charges! You do that one more, just one more time and I'll throw you out of here so fast, you won't know what hit you!"
Miriam blinked back the tears she felt stinging her eyes. The injustice of it all....
"Yes," she said quietly.
"Good. Now get out of my sight!" Madam Westyn said scathingly.
Miriam opened the door and came face to face with Tom.
"What's going –" he began, looking between Miriam and Madam Westyn, but Miriam pushed by him. She didn't want him to see her cry. Running back up to the girls' dormitories, she was glad to see it was now vacant. Sitting on her bed, she took off her jacket and rolled up her sleeve to look at the ugly black-and-blue hand print on her arm. She sighed heavily as she rolled down her sleeve again.
As if things couldn't get any worse for her or her brother, Madam Westyn had another surprise in store for the two Riddle kids.
Early the next morning after breakfast, Madam Westyn called Tom and Miriam into her office.
"Money or no money, I've put up with this as long as I could," she said, wringing her prune-y hands. "I simply cannot allow you to continue to poison the other children with your evilness."
Miriam looked at Tom, who had raised his eyebrows. It was certainly a close draw on who looked more surprised: Miriam or Tom.
"I would like you two to meet Father James. Father James, here are the two children I've told you about," Madam Westyn announced.
The man had a cold, indifferent expression on his old, winkled face. He wore silverish wire-rimmed glasses and a billowing black robe - but his wasn't a typical witch's or wizard's robe - and he carried a large wooden cross.
"What's going on?" Miriam asked, her heartbeat starting to quicken.
The man's vicious, sullen eyes fixated on Miriam. Raising the cross, he said in a booming voice, "By the grace of God, I cast the Devil out of you!"
Miriam was too frightened to move. The only thing she could do was grab her brother's hand and squeeze it tightly. "Tom!" she whispered, her voice filled with fear. Tom stepped in front of Miriam and looked up at the man.
"We're not evil," he said firmly.
"You practice the devil's magic –"
"We're not evil," he announced again, his voice slowly getting more angry with every syllable spoken.
"Your hearts and souls are filled with black –"
"WE'RE... NOT... BLOODY... EVIL!" Tom yelled. At that moment, a harsh, sweeping wind blew through the office, and Madam Westyn's desk began to shake violently, almost unnaturally.
Father Jones and Madam Westyn looked taken aback and frightened. "Leave my sister and me alone!"
Father Jones put his hand on Tom's shoulder and grabbed him roughly. "Now you listen to me, boy –"
Tom looked down scornfully at the man's hand and wrested it with such fury, the man stumbled forward a bit. Looking up into the man's steely gray eyes, Tom focused all his anger and hatred onto this moment.
"LEAVE US THE HELL ALONE... OR ELSE!" Tom hissed.
Miriam looked into Father Jones's glasses and nearly gasped by what she saw in its reflection: Tom's eyes had taken on a brilliant blood-red glow. A look of sheer terror crossed the faces of Madam Westyn and Father Jones. A surge of power traveled through Tom, and the old man fell to the ground, writhing. Father Jones looked up at Tom as he loosened his grip on the old man.
Slowly the man got up and staggered out of the office, leaving without saying anymore. Miriam glanced up at Madam Westyn, who wore an indecipherable expression on her face.
Walking up to Tom, Madam Westyn looked at him for a moment before slapping him severely across the face, causing him to twist and stumble backwards.
"Well, it looks as if you two will be sleeping outside tonight," she said, her eyes glinting maliciously.
Faithful to her word, she tossed them out into her lush, green garden. "You'll be needing this," she grinned smugly as she tossed out a tattered tent for them to use as shelter.
~*~
As the hot, summer day slowly dragged on, Miriam imagined that this was what hell must truly be like. She was hot, tired, hungry, and parched. She knew Tom was as well, though he never admitted it... or complained once about it.
Eventually, the bright blue sky gave way to a pinkish gold color and Miriam suggested that they pitch the tent before the sun went completely down on them. Without saying anything to the other, they slowly constructed the tent, shortly realizing that it was only big enough for one person.
"Go ahead," Tom mumbled, waving his hand dismissively at the tent.
"No, no, I couldn't –" Miriam began.
"Take it," he ordered. He sat on the cool, damp grass and laid back, facing the now darkened sky. Miriam bit her lip and then slowly crawled into the tent.
"Goodnight, Tom," she called out softly.
"Night," he replied gruffly.
Miriam laid down in her tent. As she did, her stomach let out a low grumble. It was telling her she was starving. She hadn't eaten anything since breakfast earlier, and her stomach was thoroughly displeased.
"Tom?" she tentatively called out again.
"What?" he grunted.
"Thank you for protecting me earlier."
"No problem."
As Miriam laid back down in her tent, she heard something moving over the grass just outside her tent. Gently lifting up the side of the tent, she came face to face with Tom's familiar pet snake.
"Vipera?" she whispered in astonishment.
Hello, it hissed to her.
Miriam gaped at snake in astonishment, watching as it slowly turned around and slithered into some nearby bushes.
Okaaaay. Miriam figured it simply was just her imagination running away with her. Probably because I'm so hungry.
Closing her eyes, she went to sleep and had a wonderful dream about eating chocolate cake.
June 13th, 1941,
Mme. Westyn finally allowed us to return to the inside orphanage... or at least she allowed one of us, anyhow.
---
"You, but not him," Madam Westyn grunted, pointing between Miriam and Tom.
"I'm not going without him."
"You'll do as I tell you. Now get inside this instant, young lady!"
Miriam looked at Tom, who was beckoning her on. Go ahead, he seemed to say to her.
With a heavy heart, she followed Madam Westyn inside, leaving her brother outside in the hot, summer day.
"You're not going to, um, leave him out there all day, are you?" Miriam asked tentatively.
"I'll leave him out there as long as I want," she replied gruffly.
"But if he dies from heat exhaustion or hunger, you're going to be in loads of trouble."
Madam Westyn stopped abruptly and glared at Miriam. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew Miriam was right.
"Fine," she grumbled. Opening the door back up, she motioned for Tom to come in. He walked in without even acknowledging Madam Westyn.
Thanks, Miriam, he smiled at her.
After that, things seemed to regress back to normal for the rest of the day and for much of the week.
June 24th, 1941,
Tom ran away from the orphanage today. I awoke to odd noises coming from outside. I looked out in time to see Tom standing out on the front lawn, a strange cloaked figure guiding him away from the building.
---
It was early daybreak, much to soon to get up, so she rolled over to get comfortable in her bed. Muffled voices coming from outside slipped below her bedroom window.
Ugh. Who is making that racket, she thought groggily.
Slowly lifting up her curtains she squinted her eyes and looked out her window onto the not-quite-lit lawn. She nearly gave herself quite a start when she saw Tom walking toward a strange person in a hooded cloak, who was steering him away from the orphanage. Sitting upright in her bed, she observed their every movement closely.
Tom seemed perfectly at ease around the stranger. In the next instant, the man pulled out a long stick, and then both Tom and the stranger vanished, leaving Miriam rubbing her eyes and bewildered.
Nobody seemed to notice that Tom was gone, or at least, nobody let on that they knew, or even cared. Miriam felt a mixture of hurt and resentment toward her brother. How could he just up and leave her like that - especially when he knew bloody well that she was just as unhappy living at the orphanage?
The only person who gave the slightest hint about Tom being gone was Madam Westyn, who seemed extremely elated that particular day.
June 25th, 1941,
It hurts like the dickens to write, so I'll just make this short and to the point. I had a nightmare last night ... but it wasn't just any nightmare, this one was real. I don't know how else to explain it. Though all my other nightmares seemed so real, this one took the cake.
---
"Play!" a harsh voice ordered her. Miriam looked around and saw a tall figure standing off in the distance. His face was well hidden, as he wore a long, hooded robe that covered all of his head and facial features. Miriam had a sinking suspicion she knew who the person in the hooded robe was.
"Are... are you Grindelwald?" she asked nervously. The figure didn't acknowledge the question; it merely raised its hood to reveal a thin white face with red slits for eyes.
"Play!" he shouted again. A beautiful golden harp stood next to where Grindelwald waited. The golden harp gently reflected the candlelight, making it seem almost ethereal. If it didn't seem like such a life-or-death situation, it would almost seem like a wonderful dream... except this dream was covering an absolute nightmare.
"Why me?" she asked.
"You're the only one who knows how." An oh-so-familiar voiced echoed its reply.
Tom?
Miriam slowly walked toward the harp and sat down on the small bench beside it. Bringing her hands up to the strings, she gave it a soft, gentle pluck. A note of music emitted from the harp.
This isn't too bad. But little did she know that something evil was under the harp's innocent appearance. Bringing her hands up to the harp again, she plucked the strings. A harmonious, almost heavenly sound emerged... along with something she wasn't anticipating at all: A sharp, searing pain in her fingers. Just as if they had been pricked, blood slowly began to trickle down her fingers. She cried in pain as she pulled away from the harp and clasped her hands together, hoping to make the bleeding stop.
"Continue!" bellowed Grindelwald. Miriam again played a few more notes on the harp, but the pain was even more intense. She looked at her fingers, which were now completely covered in crimson.
"I can't," she sobbed. "Please... let me stop!"
"No!" he shouted.
"Please," she begged again. "My hands...."
"Continue playing, or I'll Imperius you and force you to play!" he threatened with his wand now pointing directly at her.
Taking a long and deep breath, she continuing on, playing a haunting melody through the unbearable pain she was experiencing, wincing every time she moved her hands along the harp. Inside her head, she was screaming in pain. She watched through teary eyes, in silent horror, as her fingers bled profusely, her blood gradually dripping down and coloring the white strings of the harp a bright blood-red color.
Just let me stop! Please!
A weird sensation began to overtake her, and she began to feel extremely tired. Her eyelids were getting heavier....
No, she thought. I must stay awake.
Fighting the impending sensation, she continued on as her hands eventually became desensitized to the overwhelming pain. Unsuccessfully, the feeling of sleepiness overtook her and she slumped over in her seat, her bloody hands still grasping at the harp strings.
"Miriam you're pathetic," the familiar voice she had heard earlier thundered. A cold laughter filled her head.
Pathetic.... it echoed in her head.
Weakness washed over her as she slowly came to again. Opening her eyes, she expected to meet the evil glare of Grindelwald. Instead, she saw only the early morning light. Her face was wet with perspiration and her head felt foggy, but she knew that she was in the safety of her room in the orphanage. It had all been just a horrible dream.
Still half-asleep, she began to rub her eyes, but they immediately began to sting. Grabbing her blanket she wiped whatever was in her eyes out, but she wasn't prepared for what her now-clear eyes saw: blood.
Gasping, she examined the blanket more closely. There was blood was everywhere; it was covering a good portion of her blanket.
"Oh my," she quietly exclaimed. Looking at her hands, she realized the blood had come from the deep gashes on her fingers.
It hadn't just been a dream. It had been REAL.
Her hands began to sear from the cool, morning air touching them. Wrapping them up in her bloody blanket, she laid back as her eyes began to sting again - this time not from blood, but from tears.
What could have been Grindelwald's motive for torturing her?
Getting up, she set out toward the nurse's office. The nurse was still asleep, so snatching some ointment from the office was a piece of cake. After quietly making her way back up the stairs to her bed, she applied the medication liberally.
As she was putting the awful smelling stuff on, an owl pecked at her window.
Carefully opening the window with her ointment-treated hands, the owl flew in, dropped a letter in her lap, then flew off again. Gingerly opening the letter, she saw it was from her friends.
In the letter, they talked about their recent vacation to the Mediterranean. They also enclosed something she wasn't expecting: a clip from the most recent edition of the The Daily Prophet.
"Grindelwald breaks into Ministry of Magic"
Sources have reported to The Daily Prophet that sometime late last night, Grindelwald broke into the Ministry of Magic. Though Ministry employees maintain that nothing was taken, they did say a harp was found near the entrance to one room deep within the Ministy of Magic, along with a small pool of blood at the foot of the harp.
Though none of the employees, the Unspeakables, stated what was in that particular room, The Daily Prophet learned that whatever was in there could only be reached by playing a musical instrument.
The first person to arrive on the scene was Albus Dumbledore, head of the resistance to vanquish the Dark Lord Grindelwald.
Interview with Dumbledore following on the next page:
A small note from her friends was folded inside the newspaper clip.
"Can you believe it? Someone broke into the Ministry of Magic? Luckily Dumbledore was the first one there.
We thought we'd try and keep you up-to-date on things happening in the wizading world, as I'm sure that being in the orphanage must get quite dull."
"You don't know the half of it," she mumbled, carefully tucking their letter inside again.
The day kept getting stranger and stranger. Tom returned shortly after dinner, much to the annoyance of Madam Westyn, who had been hoping that he had gotten run over - or something much worse.
When Miriam spotted Tom sitting alone in the garden under a large tree that later on that evening, she decided that she needed to talk to him and clear a few things up. Thoughts were racing around her head as she decided what she wanted to say, but the words just weren't coming to her. Finally the words came to her lips when she saw Tom.
"Where the hell have you been?" she exclaimed. Tom looked up from where he was sitting, a look of aggravation crossing his face.
"You saw me leave?"
"Well of course I saw!" she replied angrily. "I saw you leaving with some peculiar hooded figure!"
Tom stood up, but when he did, she saw something that nearly made her pass out. He had bloodstains all down the front of him.
"What happened to YOU?" she exclaimed, looking at his bloodied clothes.
"None of your business!" he retorted before storming back inside the orphanage.
June 27th, 1941,
Since Mme. Westyn's punishment those few days ago,Tom seems to have become much more quieter than usual, keeping mostly to himself. And as strange as what I'm about to write next sounds, I'll say it anyway: I think he's been talking to Vipera. Everyday I see him out in the garden alone with that snake. I snuck out there today and heard the most unusual sound: him laughing over something Vipera had said... yes SAID! He TALKED to the SNAKE! AND UNDERSTOOD IT!
I guess I shouldn't be too worried over it, as I'm sure loads of witches and wizards can do it, too. It can't be that uncommon of a trait, talking to snakes and all. I was going to ask him about it tonight at dinner, but he seemed aloof, more so than usual. Once dinner was over, he got up and left before I even got the chance to speak to him. I decided to follow him, hoping I could get him alone so we could talk, but following him lead me, interestingly enough, to Mme. Westyn's office.
---
Miriam didn't want Tom to see her, at least, not yet. Opening a door to a small broom closet, she ducked inside, but left the door open enough to see her brother.
Tom reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small gray pick. After checking to make sure no one was around, he slid the pick into the office door's lock. Fumbling around for a good minute, he heard a click inside the lock, and the door opened up. He smiled as he slid open the door just wide enough for him to squeeze in and close it behind him. By this time, Miriam had slipped out of the broom closet and headed toward Madam Westyn's office.
Breaking and entering was against the orphanage's rules - especially breaking into Madam Westyn's office, which could have landed Tom and her in serious trouble. But Miriam had to know what Tom was up to. Putting her hand on the doorknob, she sighed. Curiosity was driving her insane. Quietly turning the knob, she opened the door without a squeak and walked in.
Tom, his back toward her, was facing a filing cabinet rustling around some papers. Obviously he hadn't heard his sister come in behind him.
Miriam watched him for a brief moment before speaking. "So, pray tell, when did you learn to pick a lock?"
He abruptly stopped what he was doing and turned toward Miriam, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
"Miriam! When... where'd you...."
Miriam held up her hand. Tom continued to stare incredulously at her, almost as if he were trying to read her mind. Ignoring him, she walked up to the filing cabinet and exclaimed, "Bloody hell, Tom, do you know what Madam Westyn will do to us if she finds us in here? Two weeks without dinner! And that's only if she's feeling merciful toward us, which she hasn't been lately. What's in here that you would even want, anyway?" she asked looking at the pile of folders that Tom was still going through.
"This," he replied, pulling out a folder in particular. "There was something I just had to check on."
Miriam looked at the title of the file. 'Riddle, Thomas Marvolo', it read. Quite understandably confused by this she looked at him curiously, but before she could even ask, he opened the file. Inside the file was his birth certificate and other information. He seemed to be looking for something in particular on it. The only thing she could fully read on it was his birth date (October 31, 1927).
"Look here," he said suddenly. He was pointing to a name... a woman's name... Marguerite Morreaux. Right above it, it read: 'Mother's Name', DOB 17/2/1902, DD: 31/10/1927. Miriam nearly choked on her breath as she read that. This was the first time she had ever seen her mother's name, her birth date, and unfortunately, her death date. Tom pointed to another line, this one read 'Father's Name': Thomas Riddle, DOB 30/4/1896.
Her heart felt like it had just stopped in her chest.
Tom then pulled out another folder, this one reading 'Riddle, Miriam Eloise'. He opened it up and showed her her own birth certificate. The same women and man were listed on hers, as well, as were the same dates.
"So... she... was... our mother? And our father is... alive?" Miriam asked.
"It would seem so," he mumbled piercingly.
Looking into his eyes, she saw a newly discovered hate in them. Maybe it was simply because her eyes were still adjusting themselves to the dark, but were his eyes starting to turn red?
"He's alive, and yet, he still sent us here," she mumbled solemnly. "What made you decide to look for these?"
"A friend told me."
She couldn't help but feel that somehow this sudden interest in these papers had some strange connection with his disappearance the other day. Yet before she could even ask who that mysterious friend was, Tom had turned and began putting the folders back into the cabinets. As he did, they could hear footsteps out in the hallway - and it sounded like they were getting closer! Surely they were going to be caught.
Tom grabbed Miriam by the arm, pushed her down behind Madam Westyn's desk, and then crouched down beside her. A moment later, Madam Westyn came in the room.
"Who's in here?" she hollered. "Come out now, whoever you are!"
Miriam held her breath as she watched Madam Westyn tear up and down the room searching for the intruders. When she didn't find anything or anyone, she left the office in a huff. Her footsteps faded into the distance, and they slowly emerged from their hiding spot. As Miriam tried to open the office door, a sinking feeling rested in the bottom of her stomach: They were locked in.
"Not for long," Tom replied blandly. He pulled out the pick from his pocket and set out to work on the door. Two seconds later, the door opened, and they both made a dash out of the room. Unfortunately, before Miriam could even ask any more regarding their files, Tom had already split, tearing down the halls toward the boys dorms.
July 7th, 1941,
I just received the most exciting letter today!Â
---
As Miriam opened her school letter, something shiny fell out. A badge. Picking it up, she nearly gasped.
"I'm Quidditch captain. Bloody hell!" she exclaimed.
Admiring her new badge, she couldn't help but smile. As she twirled the shiny badge between her fingers, sadness suddenly came over her as she realized then what the badge meant. It meant that her friend Abby wasn't coming back this year to Hogwarts.
The more she thought about it, there were others she knew that wouldn't be coming back either this coming school year: Peter Longbottom, Maria Bell, Stephane Lestrange... well, she really didn't care about him. He was always a bit of a pain-in-the-ass.
Pulling out the rest of the letters that were stuffed into the envelope, one in particular caught her eye.
Your friend Abby specifically requested that you take her place as Quidditch captain. Good luck on the team this year.
By the way, you'll need to find two new Chasers for your team. Good luck.
She had to find Tom and share the good news with him. Looking all around, she finally spotted him outside talking to that snake again.
"Guess what?" she exclaimed. Tom looked up and asked her what was wrong.
"Nothing's wrong," she replied, her face breaking out into a wide grin. "I've just been named Quidditch captain!" She pulled out her shiny red and gold badge and showed him.
"Wonderful," he replied, lacking any excitement in his voice. "I just got my school letter today, too."
"Did you get named captain as well?"
"No," he admitted. "I quit the team before the end of the semester last year."
"Why?" she questioned.
"Quidditch just wasn't my thing, I guess. I'd rather apply my time on my homework instead."
Or trying to open that foolish Chamber of Secrets.
She kept that last part to herself, as Tom didn't know she knew about his plans to try and find the fabled Chamber of Secrets.
July 14th, 1941,
I don't know what to do about Tom. It's like since we've been back, he hasn't been himself....
---
Things still haven't cooled between Tom and Madam Westyn. For most of the time, they snubbed one another, but Tom was not above giving her a contemptuous glower every so often. His glare was filled with great disdain and conceit. He had an aura about him that was unlike anything Miriam had ever seen from him before.
"She thinks she's the boss of me!" Tom exclaimed later that evening as they sat in the vacant garden. "But she's not! She's nothing more than just some beastly, uncivilized cretin!"
"Tom –" Miriam began, trying to mollify her tempestuous brother.
"They just don't understand us," Tom sighed.
"Who's they?"
"Muggles, Miriam! Muggles! They just don't understand us, the wizarding type. They go about their boring, pathetic little lives, totally ignorant of everything around them!"
"You can't hate all Muggles! They're not ALL like Madam Westyn!"
"How the hell do you know?" he enquired, raising his eyebrows. "Have you ever met any? The only people who have ever been nice to us are from the wizarding world! Everyone else thinks we're just freaks or monstrosities!"
"Are you saying we should just eradicate all Muggles then? Should we just set a bunch of bloodthirsty wizards and witches loose on the Muggles and let them torture and kill them?"
Tom didn't say anything in response to it. His quietness sent a cold shiver up her spine.
"What could the harm in it be?" he whispered dryly before he left the garden and a mightily bewildered Miriam behind.