Pity the Living ♔ Tom Riddle

13 || Lighting the Fuse

July 1938.

The Leaky Cauldron, London.

Gisela

The small sack of coins hit her palm with a delightful 'clink' as she received her weekly pay, coins that would be well spent in the upcoming weeks. Wiping her greasy hands on her apron, Gisela finished her days work at the thriving Wizarding Pub in central London and made her way upstairs to her room, where a quiet eleven-year-old boy would be waiting for her, no doubt with his nose buried in a book. The past two summers had been a relief for the boy, with Professor Klaus paying for their accommodation at the Pub, while this summer Gisela was considered old enough to help in the kitchen, earning a decent spending wage to fund their frugal lifestyle. It wasn't much pay, but it was enough to ensure that Tom would be able to afford his school supplies and stocked up their collection of books and potions in the process.

Unfortunately, Tom would have to return to the orphanage during the day in August, as he would have to wait patiently until whoever was to deliver his invitation to Hogwarts stopped by. He was not pleased. For the past two summers, he had the freedom of living with Gisela in London's Wizarding society, a blissful escape from that hellhole in the East End. However, Professor Klaus had wiped the memory of Gisela entirely from the orphanage occupants and insisted that Tom keep himself separate from her in the eyes of the British Ministry. No one could know she existed while Grindelwald remained the Wizarding World's greatest threat.

"Hello Tommy, I've finished my shift. What are you reading?" she asked, hanging her apron on a hook and sitting down to remove her shoes.

"It's a book called the Sacred 28 Pureblood Directory. It lists all the Pureblood families of Britain in here, but I still can't find anyone under the name Riddle," he sulked, passing her the book.

"Well, I'm sure will find a clue somewhere. Are you still sure it was your father who was a Wizard?"

"He had to be Giselle, my mother died, and witches can't die in something as trivial as childbirth," he huffed.

"You don't know that, Tom. Well, if you're not going to investigate your mother, I will. And why have you given me a nickname? And not even the German pronunciation, but French?"

"You are free to investigate that weak woman, but I doubt you will find anything. And Giselle sounds more elegant in English, don't you think?"

"I suppose, but don't call me that around Professor Klaus. So, all we know is that your mother's father's name was Marvolo. I will start there," she said, kicking her feet up onto the bed and laying the book open in the dim candlelight. She doubted she would get through every noted pureblood family tree by the end of the night, but she would try.

By the time the answer came to her, however, Tom had fallen asleep, his face illuminated by Gisela's dying candlelight. He looked so innocent for a boy of twelve, and for a moment she almost forgot the atrocities he had inflicted on the orphanage children over the past two years while she was away. All of it could have been overlooked, had he not expressed his glee over the cave incident well over a year ago. For the first time in her life, she was truly disturbed.

Tom was not a kind child. He had never been. But then neither had anyone else who grew up in that nasty place. For the first nine years, she had been able to keep control and calm his temper, preventing anything truly drastic from happening. However, it seemed their two years of separation had taken a toll on his sanity, which she hoped would be deescalated at Hogwarts, where he could thrive. But her worry remained, having seen the state of Amy and Dennis after she returned from her first year for the last time to collect Tom. He was not an ordinary resentful orphan.