O r p h a n ● Tom Riddle [Harry Potter Fanfiction]

➊ Un - Just Like That.

My small hands were covered in warm pink mittens, which made it harder for me to hold a firm grip on anything, but they held on as tightly as they could to the much larger hands of my father, Merciless Rosewood.

I didn’t have a clue where we were.

The air was cold; after all, it was Christmas time in London, and to add to that: it was snowing.

My mother, Cecilia, was smiling, and my father kept his face hidden beneath the shadows of his top hat and the walls of his long black coat - as he usually did.

I don’t think I’ve ever even seen his face, but surely, my father was a handsome man.

He must be!

I assumed, for my mother was beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the world! And it only seemed right that she would marry someone even better looking than herself! I love my mother. She doesn't scare me as much as my father.

No, it’s not that my father is mean; it’s not that he’s cruel, and my fear of him has nothing to do with his appearance either (How would it? I'd never seen his face!). My father has always been kind to me. He compliments me; he picks me up and twirls me around like a fairy, he pats my little brown head (that always feels nice!), and makes sure I always have the prettiest dresses. “Are you happy, my little queen?” he would always ask, “You should always be happy, my queen”, and then he’d go speak with mother.

Whispering, looking back at little me, whispering…

What makes him scary is before he goes to work every morning. Just before he walks out the door, he’ll glance back at me, standing beside mother, and I’ll see the colour of his eyes reflecting off the lights of our hallway.

Red.

 

Today father didn’t go to work. Instead, he has taken mother and I here, to the steps of a sad looking building. The building was entirely grey; the windows had scary looking bars on them, and the doors were just black. My father began talking to my mother. Words I did not understand. And then with that, he looked down at me. He was smiling, I could tell. “My little Vivie”, he paused for a moment before kneeling down to my level, and yet, I could still not see his face even when he was so close… scary. “My little Vivie, your mother and I are going to go away for a very, very, very long time. This is going to be your new home.”

Little me began to get upset, tearing up, but my father only chuckled lightly as he wiped away a stray tear.

“Don’t cry, Vivie. You know I don't like it when you cry.” He says sternly. He must be frowning now.

I know he doesn’t like it when I cry. Crying makes him angry. Father isn't very nice when he’s angry.

He sighs, and stands back up again. He nods towards my mother before disappearing into thin air. I remember my mother telling me it was called disaperating, which was basically teleporting, and being able to quickly get from one place to the other in a blink of an eye. It was called magic.