Amortentia
[Tom Riddle Sr.]

Prologue

She hated it when he spoke Parseltongue.

The words hurt her head, making her wince in pain.
Sometimes, when she refused to answer him in the same language, he shook her, over and over again until she spoke the redeeming words.
But even then it was not over.
Then she had to endure the interrogations sometimes from her brother, and sometimes from her father.

"What have you done today Merope? Where have you been today, Merope? Why is there nothing to eat, Merope? Why don't you use magic Merope?"
The final question was always the worst.

Merope struggled to produce even the tiniest bit of magic, but the words in Parseltongue seemed to bore into her head,turning it into a jumbled mess of loose words and images.
But Morfin and her father have left her in peace.
They were acting very suspicious all of a sudden, and often locked themselves in the first floor.

Merope however enjoyed this time.
It meant that no one shouted, no one pushed her around, nobody hurt her and nobody spoke Parseltongue.
She spent hours just watching out of the window and imagine how all the people who carelessly rushed past her house, lived their lives.

The old man with the hat walked past many times, or the woman with the stroller.
She had given them all names, so that they led a life of their own in her head.
The fat man with the thick mustache for example, had three children in her imagination and an equally stout woman, even though she had never seen him in the company of anyone.
But for Merope that was her guilty pleasure.
Something that no one could take from her, although her father did not like to see her sitting at the window.
But as long as he was busy, he couldn't prohibit it.
She heard hoofbeats on the ailing cobblestones and listened.
Horses rarely came over here.
She liked the animals, they were proud and beautiful and they carried their riders often far away.
Merope slid a little closer to the window, she didn't want to miss a moment.
At first she saw only the horse, a stately animal and so huge that Merope would have surely feared if she ever came across it on the streets. Then the second horse, bigger and stronger, but still a beautiful gracious creature.
She wondered if it was hard to stay on seated on the horse's back.
The animals fell into a quiet step and parried by the rider in front of the House of Riddles.
The Riddles lived right across the street and Merope knew they were three.
But she didn't know the two people riding on the horses.
The girl seemed somehow smaller, rosy and refreshed as the young man helped her out of the saddle.
Was that the son who returned home to the Riddles?
Merope had never gotten a good look at him. Only once, when she had been a little girl.

Merope had to swallow involuntarily and took a step to the side to better hide behind the worn curtains, because all of a sudden she was ashamed of her torn clothes, her lank black hair and especially her strange looking eyes that sometimes seemed to stare in different directions.

And yet, she couldn't avert her gaze from the young man.
Merope had the feeling that she had never seen a more handsome man.
His hair fell loosely over his forehead, those eyes, those wonderful honey-brown eyes!
He did not look over at Merope and yet she was grateful.
If only she was as beautiful as that girl.
How wonderful it must feel if such a man a helps you off the horse.
But through the open window she could only hear the sound of his voice, she didn't understand his words.
How beautiful he is, she thought fervently.

It thundered from afar, the stranger quickly handed his jacket to the girl and told her to go into the house, at least that's what Merope estimated that he had said, for the she couldn't understand his words.
A discordant hiss crept into her mind, like a treacherous snake.
And the serpent said: "Get away from the window, you filthy squib!"
With a sharp outcry Merope spun around and stared at the pale face of her brother.
"Father hates it when you do that," he continued in Parseltongue.
Merope rushed hastily, away from the window, but Morfin grabbed her arm.
"You know that he doesn't like it!" He sighed theatrically.
"But my sister happens to be stupid, right? Even dumber than than a Muggle."
Merope wanted to free herself from his grasp, he was hurting her.
Morfin looked at her searchingly.
"What have you been up to?"
He must have noticed her treacherous red cheeks.
"Nothing," she answered slowly and docile in Parseltongue to appease him a little.
"I don't think so. I believe that I have to talk to father... ha! This is going to be a lot of fun."
He seemed to look around and Merope knew what was coming.
He was looking for one of his snake baskets.

Merope never liked snakes, because they invaded her head and spoke in that awful language.
But if you left them alone, then you could stay away from them at least.
But Morfin made a joke of it, sometimes he forced her to put an arm into one of the baskets. Then he made the snakes snap at her until she screamed for help.
Today none of the snakes answered.
A hopeful moment, Merope thought to have escaped the punishment, but Morfin abruptly yanked her to him.
"What have you done with them?"
"Nothing," stammered Merope.
"I never get near the baskets..."
"Lies!', Raged Morfin and raised a hand threateningly.
Merope kept her head down, she knew what was coming.