Chapter 1
Tom and Noctua Gaunt Riddle age 5, 6 and 11
Tom and Noctua Gaunt Riddle age 11 and 17
Tom Riddle Senior in his 20s or early 30s and last one in his 40s
*
When Merope Gaunt gave birth at Wool’s Orphanage to twins and her heart broken, her will to live long gone, baby names had been far from her mind. She named her son Tom after the muggle she still loved and Marvolo for her father. Her daughter she named Noctua a family name, and Merope for herself.
Shorly thereafter she passed, having given the orphanage matron little else to go on.
The orphanages workers were poor, often grown orphans themselves, and not particularly caring or happy. Most of them treated the children poorly, and the oddly named and more oddly behaved twins even more poorly.
Tom was prone to cruelty and dark moods and anger, and Noctua was a quiet well behaved child who seemed to always know more than a child her age ought, and act more maturely than any normal child.
Besides that the orphanages nannies would claim the twins simply creeped them out.
Both children were uncommonly good looking, with highborn features and dark hair.
Noctua could be cruel and cunning too, protecting herself and her brother from the other children and adults alike with any means necessary, but would also rein in her brother from antagonising or being cruel unprovoked.
While cruel words and violence might be enough to keep the children at bay, subtler methods needed to be employed on the adult bullies to avoid punishment. Both twins learned that with enough will they could somewhat affect others actions. Something they used liberally on the adults.
Everyone soon enough learned to leave the twins alone.
Noctua might remember her life as Harrie, but she didn't really feel like she was Harrie. She had some of Harriet's personality, and her experiences certainly influenced her actions, but it felt more like a life she had observed, rather than as vividly hers as her memories from when she was born. But having already grown up once, she was already from a young age able to think more like the near adult she had been than the child she now was.
Knowing how abnormal that was she tried to hide this and act as much like a child as she could, but she knew she was not perfect in her act.
She also had to care for her brother. She knew the monster he could turn into, and was determined to prevent it.
Just with the knowledge she had and her more mature intellect, she knew it was doable.
She knew who they were, she remembered.
She could not be sure her brother would keep her secrets, young as he was, so she was vague about it but did not lie to him entierly, saying she had visions of a possible future. She told him they were wixen, that they came from an ancient line of wizards and witches. A dying family once prestigious. That their last magical relatives were imprisoned but we're likely too predjudiced to take them in regardless.
She told him their father was muggle and had abandoned their mother who had likely used magic to enslave him. But that he was wealthy and that they might be their best bet to get away from the orphanage.
He told her vehemently that he hated his name, his father's name. Perhaps he had been a victim of their mother, but that wasn't their fault, he had abandoned them too.
“Your name is a proper witches name, Noctua. I wish I had one too.”
“You could use Marvolo, that is our Grandfather's name, even though he would probably hate us for our impure blood.”
“I want a name that is mine, and not someones who don't see our worth.”
When they were five she ran out of patience to wait there until they were older.
She told her brother about her plans and got her expected fight.
“I want to go with you!”
“It could be dangerous, and it's hard enough to hide and be secretive alone, not to mention we don't have enough money for both of us.”
“But if it’s dangerous I want to protect you.”
“I know but we are five, we can’t do much, and I need you here to hide that I've left.”
Noctua walked to the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't close to the orphanage, but she needed all the money she had managed to steal, coerce and cajole out of the orphanage workers.
She acted like an innocent young girl wanting to buy her mom a surprise birthday gift and got the bartender grudgingly to let her through the barrier in the back.
She walked straight to Gringotts and made her way to an unoccupied teller. She remembered her last trip and how she had barely been able to see over the tellers desk, now she was even shorter and even standing on her tiptoes she couldn't see over the abnormally tall counter. So she backed up a few steps untill she had the goblin teller in her eyeline and cleared her throat loudly.
The goblin looked down at her unimpressed.
She put her hands on her hips and huffed.
“What? I can't help that I’m short, I am five. Would it be possible to discuss business somewhere we could be on more equal footing, maybe with chairs and preferably in private?”
The goblin assessed her with a steely gaze but then hopped down and walked around the counter.
“Follow.” The goblin told her in a raspy voice.
They walked down the row of counters, past the teller area, to an archway at the end of the row, down a hallway lined with doors labeled with what she thought might be some type of goblin runic numerals.
Finally the goblin opened a seemingly random door and ushered her inside a small office. It didn't look like a personal office, sparsely furnished and with no decorations. She sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk the goblin took a seat behind.
“Now, what might Gringotts assist you with, miss…?” The goblin rasped.
“Noctua Merope Gaunt,” she said with confidence. Her legal name on paper might be Riddle, but in the Wizarding world bloodlines mattered more legally. “Might I know what to call you, also?”
The goblin raised one eyebrow a fraction at her name.
“I am called Trueclaw, Miss Gaunt. Will you want to prove your identity and view any possible inheritance?”
She drummed her fingers on the desk and bit her lip.
“That depends. I believe the Gaunt family has been destitute for generations, and I have sore need of the few coins I have now. So unless the service is free or you can tell me for a fact there is anything to inherit, I won't prioritize it at this time.”
“I’m afraid Gringotts cannot give out private information without a verified claim,” Trueclaw gave her an intensely assessing look. “However, we might give a loan, with interest of course, of the test fee.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“A loan? Why would you give a loan to someone in seemingly no position to be able to pay it back, even if it is only a few galleons? Unless you do know something…?”
Trueclaw gave her a sharp toothed grin.
“Let's just say we have reason to believe it could prove a sound investment in time.”
She mulled over that a moment.
“Hmm, so no immediate piles of gold at least, hence the interest I suppose. Very well, what is the fee, and what is the interest?”
“Only seven galleons for the genealogy test, and for very small loans Gringotts takes a larger interest to make it worth our while. We are not a charity after all. Twenty percent a year.”
“So only in a few years the debt would double. And by the time I’ve reached my majority it could be a rather large debt for someone with poor prospects… rather a gamble.”
Trueclaw only grinned those wicked sharp teeth wider, the picture of a predator.
“Very well, I’ll take the loan, on one condition,” she held up her pointer finger. “Once I have proved my claim, I want the information Gringotts has on how to secure what inheritance remains and where to find any information you don't have.”
“Of course, it is only in our best interest.”
Trueclaw waved his sharp clawed hand in the air, summoning paperwork, pen and a potion vial.
One paper was the loan contract, quickly filled out with the agreed upon numbers and added promise.
Noctua drew in a breath, this was a gamble. If she couldn't secure this inheritance she could be in debt for the rest of her life. She still had her plan for the Riddles, who no doubt had the money to pay back her debt, if she could secure it.
But if she didn’t take risks they would be stuck at the orphanage until they were eleven. She signed.
Trueclaw grinned his sharp grin and pushed the potion bottle and an ornamented needle over to her.
“Three drops of blood into the potion.”
She nodded and pricked her finger, squeezing out the requisite drops over the mouth of the bottle.
“Excellent.” Trueclaw snatched the bottle back, corked it and shook it thrice. He drew out a different quill than the one she had signed the contract with. This one was ornamented and looked special, magical. Trueclaw dipped the quill into the potion bottle and then placed the quill tip down on a blank piece of parchment, where it stood upright all on it’s own. And then it started writing.
Noctua read the words as the quill wrote.
Closest recorded blood relatives
Merope Gaunt
Marvolo Gaunt
Morfin Gaunt
Dominant bloodline ancestry
Gaunt
Lesser bloodline ancestry
Black
Lestrange
Gamp
Bloodline ancestry of dissolved accounts
Slytherin
Peverell
“Could you clarify what these mean?”
“These are your closest blood relatives that we have on record at Gringotts, meaning they have accessed their account. Any blood relatives who have not accessed their account and have therefore not had their blood recorded at out bank we will naturally not be able to verify relation to. The dominant ancestry, means this is the family you have strongest blood ties and claims to, strong enough to have rights to inherit. Lesser ancestry are other families recorded at the bank that you descend from in part, but not with significantly strong claim to. So other members of those families have a more dominant claim to the accounts as of now. There is however some legal course to claim certain rights, such as duty of care for orphaned children. Dissolved accounts are ancestry you might have a dominant claim to, but the account has been dispersed to the different heirs and merged into different accounts, meaning the original accounts are empty and have been dissolved. In the case of the Slytherin and Peverell accounts, the Slytherin was merged into the Gaunt account centuries ago when the Slytherin line died out and the Gaunts had the majority claim. The Peverell account was split between the different descendant families and merged into their respective accounts, also centuries ago.”
“And the Gaunts squandered their money, so their portion of the Peverell and Slytherin fortunes is all gone. So what is left that has you thinking I’m a sound investment?”
“Well we could possibly recoup the loan if you lodged a legal request to be taken as a ward of one of your ancestors houses, Black, Lestrange and Gamp. All wealthy. There is a duty to care for magical children who have no closer able guardians, though most families only set aside a pittance for care of distant relatives out of obligation and no more. It would secure you some care and comfort, but likely not enough to quickly repay the loan. There are also some few minor heirlooms in the Gaunt vault that you have a right to access, nothing particularly valuable as they were sold off long since, but perhaps something to help you on your way. However the prospect Gringotts have the most confidence in is a property that remains in the Gaunt name. In fact there are stipulations tied to the ownership of the property that prevents it from being sold and therefore it remains. And what's more, had the later generations of Gaunts been able to live there, they no doubt would have rather than the shack the last living members currently occupy. And thus they would have likely stripped it of any and all valuables that could be sold off, or rented out the living or some such. But it is a strongly magical property, and has been closed off from the later generations. Gringotts is not privy to how or why. Wizarding houses have their own rules, and any inheritance laws by the Ministry or Gringotts are secondary. Gringotts can only assure ownership on paper of the lands and properties, proper possession can only be resolved with the land or residences magic and or with whoever or whatever currently has control of the holding and it’s magic. While what the land encompasses is obscured, it is fairly likely it is not insignificant and might prove lucrative or at the very least have potential to become so. There is likely to be some residence, likely with heirlooms, books of knowledge, perhaps family portraits and such, and some land attached that might have been worked in some way. Many families grew potions ingredients or kept magical animals on their land. Some did more mundane farming or mining or similar resource refinement. This could still be viable or fairly easy to recommence. When such properties are closed there is often steps taken to protect and preserve it. It is always intended to eventually be reopened by someone worthy. What constitutes worthiness Gringotts cannot say. Sometimes it has been requirements of certain abilities or attributes the family magic values. While we cannot be certain the magic will accept you and open the property to you, we consider it a worthwhile gamble considering what lost treasure we might regain into our custody. And considering you, a five year old seem to possess multitudes more intelligence and cunning than the previous generations of adult Gaunts.”
Noctua blushed at the unexpected glowing compliment from a member of one of the least wizard loving species in existence.
“Where is the land located? Can I just walk up to it and see what sort of test it has for me?”
“It is located in Yorkshire, near a small muggle village called Little Hangleton. And as to how to go about it, we do not have that information. There are books on magical properties that might give you some examples so you can prepare for several different eventualities. I’ll write you a list of books you might find useful.”
He flicked his clawed hand again, summoning a parchment with the beginnings of a list already on it, and Trueclaw started adding more titles to it with a quill.
“Does anyone else currently have access to the Gaunt vault?”
“Morfin Gaunt, your only living relative on our record. We send out a notice when anyone new accesses the accounts, so he will already have been automatically notified of you.”
“So I shouldn’t deposit anything in it then. I might need to open a separate private vault eventually then, when I have anything to deposit. On that note I have some muggle currency I need exchanged.”
She withdrew her small bag of pilfered money and slid it over to Trueclaw, who waved his clawed hand again without looking up from the list. The bag disappeared and a short while after reappeared. Trueclaw pushed it over to her and she looked in to see it now contained a small amount of sickles and knuts and three gold galleons.
“You said there were still some heirlooms in the vault? I’d like to have a look once you feel you have given me all the information I need.”
Trueclaw nodded as he finished the list of books. Then waved a hand summoning a small stack of papers.
Here is the list of books I believe could be of use, a copy of the details Gringotts has on the Gaunt properties and land. The contact information of the heads of house of your distant relations, the rights of care you could be owed, and the requisite forms to claim it, should it prove necessary. Now, follow me, I’ll take you to your vault.”
A long uncomfortable cart ride later, they arrived at a vault door on one of the deepest levels, close to where she remembered the Lestrange vault was. Trueclaw opened the vault door in the same way by touching it with a clawed finger and the door melted away.
The inside was large, cavernous, and almost completely bare. Despite the size she could see the far corners were empty except for dust. Near the door was a shelf and drawers that held a few items.
She walked over to have a closer look. A few books and some seemingly random knick knacks that were likely worthless. It looked like a full set of very old very outdated Hogwarts school books, perhaps kept to homeschool the children. She pulled out a few more nondescript books, a business ledger of some sort, a personal journal of some ancestor and an in depth genealogy of the Gaunt family. Some of the random items looked like rather standard school supplies, simple and worn. Opening a drawer revealed more smaller pieces of the standard supplies. Altogether there was a set of potions equipment, gloves and clippers and such for herbology, rune carving implements and even what looked like a few divining tools.
Opening another drawer revealed the best of all; wands. Worn, used, inherited, traceless wands.
She did an internal victory cheer. She had been worried her meager coins would not be able to afford her a used wand anywhere, now she wouldn’t have to. It didn’t need to work perfectly for her, only be usable. It was much more important that it wasn’t traced. She hovered a hand over each wand trying to feel out if the magic was friendly. She knew what an unfriendly wand could do if picked up. A few gave distinct “stay away” vibes, and she moved on quickly, a few barely felt like anything, and two of them felt vaguely warm. She touched each tentatively, when nothing bad happened, she picked one up and gave it a wave, a few weak sparks flew out, but the next one somehow felt like it fit her hand like a warm soft purring cat pressing its body into the contours of her hand for a good petting. It gave a rain of soft sparks, not quite feeling as powerful as she remembered Harrie’s wand had felt, but it might not fit any worse, just different.
She couldn’t believe her luck. She left the other wands. She would bring her brother some day to pick one himself. Better they stay here than she carry them around with her.
She picked out a few of the books and tried to fit them in her satchel, when she realized they wouldn’t all fit, she attempted a shrinking charm on them and when that worked, she hit them with a featherweight as well, and smiled from ear to ear as she easily got them all into her bag, she picked a couple more books for good measure and then turned to Trueclaw.
“I’d really like to come back and take the rest of this some other day, but first I’ll have to look for a safe permanent residence where I can bring them. I hope they won’t be taken by my Uncle before then?”
“Unlikely, he has not visited the bank since the first time after his fathers passing, and he took nothing then. As I understood it he saw no value in any of it.”
“Alright, it has been a pleasure doing business with you, Trueclaw, I hope I have occasion to come again soon.”
Back in the daylight of Diagon Alley she pursued the list of books Trueclaw had given her. Not only was there books on magical buildings, but also an introduction to the wizarding world for muggleborn children, a few books on law and politics of the wizarding world, a book on useful spells for daily life, and a guide to public flo locations across the country.
She located a used bookstore and had a look around, but despite being used the books were in good condition and still had a higher pricetag than she would like. She bit her lip. There would likely be used bookstores in knockturn that had cheaper ones, and she had very little money.
Maybe if she only stuck to the very edge of knockturn it wouldn't be too dangerous.
She walked down one of the sidealleys leading between diagon and knockturn, and looked at the storefronts she walked by. Still too good condition on the wares. As they got progressively dodgier she also walked past dodgier people giving her increasingly more worrisome looks. She walked briskly and tried to look confident, but knowing her age would negate any look of competence. She kept her wand drawn but hidden in her sleeve.
Just when she spotted a bookshop with promisingly worn books in the grimy window, a hand grabbed her shoulder.
She drew her wand as she wrenched out of the strangers grip, a spell on the tip of her tongue as she pointed it at the man. Harriet's instincts had seemingly transferred over to her seamlessly.
With her past life at the forefront of her mind she faltered as she got a look at the man who had grabbed her.
He was unmistakably a Potter. His skin was tan brown, he was tall and slim and his hair was the classic birds nest, although it seemed somehow more soft and shiny and deliberate, even though it still seemed to have a mind of its own as to where to go and how to move.
Her wand dipped a touch in her surprise. But the man was busy lifting his hands in the air and putting on a friendly expression.
“Woah there miss, relax, I meant no harm,” the young man placated. He was maybe around twenty five she thought. “I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t gotten lost. This isn’t the friendliest street and you are very young I must say. Where are your parents?”
She hedged. She was pretty sure the Potters were decent people far back, and she was aware being five and walking around knockturn was not the greatest idea even though she had a wand. Perhaps getting him to escort her would be the smart idea. But how much to tell him? Was he prejudiced towards the Gaunts considering they were pureblood supremacists and descendants of Slytherin?
“I don’t have parents, I’m an orphan,” she said. Might as well nip any search for an adult in the bud. “And I’m not lost, I needed something here, I came armed as you can see.”
His eyes filled with sympathy and compassion.
“You seem very well spoken for your age. How old are you? Seven? You look around the same age as my little brother Charlus.”
“Around that age, yes.”
The man held his hand out to her for a shake.
“I’m Fleamont Potter, at your service little miss. Might I escort you safely to your destination?”
She took his hand and shook it seriously.
“Noctua… Riddle. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. And your assistance would be much appreciated.”
Fleamont was Harriet’s grandfather if she remembered correctly, and inventor of Sleekeazy’s hair potion. Perhaps why his hair seemed slightly more tame and smooth than she was used to.
“I am in need of some books, that shop there seemed promising.”
“Quite. Lead the way Miss Riddle.”
She walked confidently the last few meters to the shop, and pushed the door open before Fleamont could get it for her.
The shop clerk was about the average amount of dodgy looking as this part of Knockturn seemed to favor. He was puffing on a pipe and as she walked up to his counter he blew out a cloud of purple smoke.
“Hello, sir, would you be willing to assist me in finding a few books?”
The man grunted at her and blew another plume of purple smoke. She decided to take that as a yes, and took out her list of books trailing a finger down it. She could only afford to get a few now.
“I need at least one book on magical buildings, more specifically on their bonds with their owners, a guidebook on public Flo locations, and an introduction to the Wizarding world for muggleborns.”
At this last the man's eyes narrowed, and Fleamont stepped close and gave the man a warning glance.
Oh, Merlin's tits, she had forgotten most of the people frequenting knockturn still had a negative view of muggleborns. She was doubly grateful she had taken Fleamont’s offer now. Being here alone after that blunder would have been foolish.
The shop clerk blew a cloud of smoke straight at her face, making her wrinkle her nose and cough. Then he flicked his wand twice, making two volumes zoom towards them from the depths of the shop and stack themselves on the counter.
“Don’t have that last, better look elsewhere. Eight sickles.”
She looked over the titles and nodded, fishing out the coins and leaving them on the counter.
“Thank you, sir.”
They left quickly and she drew in a deep breath of non smokey air on the outside.
“Well, that was dumb,” she mumbled to herself. But Fleamont had apparently heard as he let out a bark of laughter.
“If you knew that I wonder why you need that book.”
“I’m half-blood, my mother died in childbirth, and I’ve been raised by muggles. There is a lot to know.”
“Ah, my condolences.”
“I suppose I'll have to get that book in Diagon proper then."