
There Was a Boy
General warnings: This book is intentionally toxic. Themes covered are murder, abuse, suicide, gaslighting, manipulation, infant loss, world war 1-2, and the Holocaust. Please do not read if these topics make you uncomfortable. HEAVY Spoilers.
I do not own any characters or the Harry Potter franchise, I only own my work and characters I make. Don't like? Don't read. This is your only warning.
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31 December, 1936
Reader POV
"There's a war coming. Margret. Mark my words." My father was an otherwise intelligent man with great patience, until it came to the morning post. "You and (nickname) will be safe from the storm, but I don't like what that German fellow is doing."
My mother who was just as intelligent as well as patient, placed a bowl of soup in front of me and ruffled my hair. "Mind nothing of your father, darling. He worries for nothing. Besides, he will not have to serve if he does not, he's an Oxford man."
My father and I shared a look, knowing fully well that he was a proud Englishman who would gladly lay down his life in service to protecting those he loved. "Margret, you know I'm right. You don't have to hide it from her, she's not a child."
"Yes," I looked at my mother with a grin. "I'm ten and two months, Father says I'm nearly an adult!"
"Hm." She leaned over and smacked my father who gave her a certain smile. "If that were so, you'd have your shoes on. We have to donate the rest of your clothes to the orphanage. Did you leave the bin by the door, sweets?"
I nodded and saluted her. "Yes, ma'am! I am all ready, requesting time to finish my dinner!"
"Permission granted." She gave a sigh and sat next to my brother Philip who was more interested in his astronomy textbook than our conversation but nevertheless rubbed my mother's back in sympathy. "Honestly, you're just like your father. If you were only 16, you would surely sign up for the medical corp."
"That is the plan."
Once dinner was finished and Philip convinced to carry the large bin containing clothes, Mother and I made it to Wool's Orphanage with pep in our steps. I helped Philip bring the unused and outgrown clothes upstairs where kids ran around, smiling at them and exchanging jokes.
"I'm going to go find someone to help me bring these books to the library," Philip informed me, motioning to the two books he wanted to donate. "Mind yourself, (nickname), don't get into corners you shouldn't."
I stuck my tongue at my brother much to his disgust. I didn't care he was two minutes older than me, he was still weird. I wandered around the halls until I came to a door at the end of the hallway left open and a boy sitting on his bed looking outside the window.
"If you're going to stare, at least introduce yourself." He didn't even look at me, but I could hear the contempt in his voice.
"Pardon my rudeness," I began as I was still a lady. "I was merely curious about you. I've never seen you."
He turned my way and I could see the lights start to flicker. "I've seen you before, you're the daughter of that volunteer lady Margret Livingston. You just moved to London last year."
Feeling more comfortable, I walked closer to him with a sense of trust. "That's true. My name's (y/n), and I'm ten! My birthday was on Halloween, very easy to remember."
"Hm." He looked at me with a quizzical expression. "How are you not...writhing in pain? I was so sure..." he mumbled off into the distance.
"Why would I be in pain?" I gave him a funny stare. "You're strange. What's your name?"
"Tom."
"Just Tom?"
"Tom Riddle." He rolled his eyes. "I'm annoyed by your presence, go away."
"I think I will!" I turned heel and left, deciding that he wasn't worth my time. I didn't fail to notice how he had...strange pictures on his wall as well as drawings of snakes. "What a creepy twat."
I walked around a bit more, until I heard Mother's call that signaled we would be leaving soon.
"Philip, what happened to your face?!" My mother's worried tone made me look at my brother's face to see that his nose was bleeding and he had a hanky to cover it. "Who did this to you?"
"I don't know," he said while looking down.
Being the intelligent woman she was, she dragged him by the wrist to the ladies. "My son was injured. One of your children definitely did it, it couldn't have started on its own!"
"Mum, you're overreacting." Despite my brother's convincing words, I could see fear in his eyes...like he saw something unnatural. "I don't know what happened, I just walked into a room on the third floor at the end and the next thing I know, my nose is bleeding."
At the mention of the location, the women all looked at each other and sighed. "It was the boy, Tom. He's always been our troubled one, rough background. His mother was presumed to be a circus worker, no father either. Poor thing, really."
"I don't care where he came from," Mum
said with honesty. "He hurt my son!"
Philip and I watched as the two bickered back and fourth, until the other woman came back dragging Tom by his wrist and a ruler in the other hand.
"Say you're sorry, boy!" She smacked him
with a ruler which caused him to wince. "Now, Tom!"
"I'm sorry." He spat it out like poison. I gave him a glare and he glared back at me. "Happy?"
My mother crouched down to his level and gave him a look. "Young man, I don't know what you did, but hitting my son to the point of bleeding-"
"I didn't do anything!" He glared at Philip who winced. "Honest! If I did, wouldn't my hands be bloody?" He showed his hands and sure enough they weren't.
"He could've washed them," Philip said with contempt. "I swear he did something!"
I thought back to how he was confused I wasn't in pain, but my thoughts were interrupted by Philip opening his big mouth again.
"You're just jealous that we have a family and yours left you here. Don't take that out on me!"
Tom looked at me, probably accepting that no one would believe him. "Well if I were, I wouldn't have done that. (y/n), was it? You talked with me. Nothing happened, yes?"
"Nothing happened," I said with honesty as all the adults who were in the room looked at me.
"Sweetheart, are you telling the truth?" Mum got up and stroked my face, looking for any signs of lying as she knew me better than anyone.
"I'm sure, Mum. We had a...decent conversation, but he never did anything."
Leaving no room for more discussion, the head woman clapped her hands to get our attention. "No one can know for certain. Mrs. Livingston, we can assure you he will be dealt with. Please do not blame him entirely, he is a troubled boy."
My mother gave Tom a look but complied. "As you see fit. Come." Philip and I each took her hand, glancing at Tom for the last time. I didn't fail to notice the fascination in his dark brown eyes.
Once my father saw Philip's now cured nose, he immediately started ranting to Mum. "I've heard things about that boy, what a pity. Margret, perhaps you were too harsh on the boy. It was his tenth birthday according to my friend at the orphanage, and no one cared to wish him. Perhaps he has been isolated and anything triggered him?"
"I don't care! He's a bully." Philip crossed his arms. "I don't care to see him ever again. And that's a fact!"
"Don't worry sweethearts, you won't." My mother also crossed her arms. "I'll make sure of it. I'll still volunteer for the orphanage, but I will not be brining either of you."
Unfortunately, we were unable to avoid this mysterious boy for long. A strange letter arrived in the post which completely changed my life, for better or for worse.
"What is this, Mum? Have you applied (nickname) to secondary schools?" Philip held up the letter to my mother who was fixing my father's hair. "What's this school, Hogwarts?"
At the name, my mother stiffened and snatched the letter. "Oh...I had hoped it wouldn't happen."
"What's going on?" I looked up from my breakfast. "I've never heard of Hogwarts."
Mum handed the letter to me with shaking hands. "It's time for you to learn the truth of your heritage."
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I'm such a simp for Tom Riddle, he's a black flag but cute so game is game.
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