Chapter 1
WHEN TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE first started his tutoring business, he did it under the pretense that he could try and remain hidden from wealthy Pureblood circles. He was incredibly naive: Being the on and off friend of Abraxas Malfoy and rival of Albus Dumbledore was bound to leave one marooned in such parts of society. Thus, he was constantly flooded with requests to tutor the spawn of the wealthy inbreds he’d grown to despise during his seven years at Hogwarts, who’d insult him for his poverty at best, and hex him for his blood-status at worst.
Tom was fairly sure the whole thing was some complicated spat between Brax and the Old Man again, the former trying to encourage him to take the ever-changing DA position as much as the latter discouraged him from doing so. There was always something going on between them; they’d sparred with each other ever since Brax took up the position of School Governor, both making Hogwarts their battleground at the expense of it’s reputation as an educational institution. Thankfully, being the tutor to the Heirs and Heiresses of the most influential families in Wizarding Britain was far more than enough to pay the bills, so Tom didn’t have to ever consider touching that issue with a barge pole.
That was until he’d found a letter waiting for him on his desk one morning after breakfast: Compared to the firm parchments decorated with complex patterns and written in calligraphy he normally received, Tom was quite confused at the sight of a perfectly average Muggle envelope. He was fairly sure no Muggle would be interested in him unless his father’s parents had passed and left him anything (which he firmly doubted), and any Mage poor enough to resort to Muggle post would probably have resigned to providing the first eleven years of their child’s education by themselves.
Then he saw the address in the corner:
Tobias and Eileen Snape
Moresby Lane
Cokeworth, South Yorkshire
Tom recognized it at once. For the four years that he had known her, Eileen Prince had been an extraordinary Witch. She excelled at her school work, most prominently in Potions, improving at least seven recipes that he knew of, found her place in the Slug Club (Tom still abhorred that name), helped edit the Standard Potions textbook, and even created her very own Stasis Charm that she found worked better. Most importantly, she had absolutely no plans on her future marriage, which knocked her down the Hogwarts totem pole slightly closer to the bottom, the Half-Blood Orphan Boy Tom Riddle.
They had formed a surprisingly long lasting friendship: Tom didn’t have many friends, and the only ones who would engage Eileen in conversation were suitors looking to acquire the Prince Family fortune, so they forged a bond in isolation. It turned long distance when Tom had left Hogwarts, but he was pleasantly surprised to find Eileen’s letters every weekend. The exchange kept him distracted from the rat race he’d entered during his stint as Abraxas Malfoy’s plus one.
Then the letters stopped, and the last Tom heard of her was from the front page of the Daily Prophet when that tabloid bitch Skeeter wrote her first exposé on the marriage of Eileen and Tobias Snape. Tom had to admit that he’d felt betrayed by Eileen: She hadn’t told him anything, and once again he was left alone to navigate the Wizarding World. But once his initial bout of emotion cleared, the only thing he could do was hope that she was happy in the end.
Tom wasn’t so sure if she was now: It was clear that if Eileen was willing to commit a move of such social suicide, she was willing to abandon everything in the Wizarding World; including him, though he was loathe to admit it. Now she’d written a letter to him, her only good contact in it, and unless she was just trying to meet old friends, that could only mean she was desperate.
Reluctantly, he opened the envelope:
Dear Tom,
I am writing to you to, first, ask for your forgiveness: I know I left suddenly, and that I should’ve told you before I left so that we could try and work something out. I’m sure you didn’t take the news well:You needed my support then, and I was wrong to take it from you. I was young and lovesick, and didn’t know what I was really doing.
Secondly, if you can bring yourself to accept my apology, I ask you to help me with a very important matter: Tobias, my husband if you don’t remember, and I have had a son, Severus. He has started showing signs of accidental magic, and I want to ensure he knows how to properly use it before he goes to Hogwarts by offering you the chance to tutor him.
Please, if you can, help me. I remember what your time at Hogwarts was like, especially what you told me about your first year, and I want to guarantee thatdoesn’t happen to Severus: I have already disadvantaged him through my poor standing. I hope you can forgive what I did and remember what we had before I threw it away; if not for my sake, then for my son’s.
Your friend,
Eileen
Tom’s gut clenched when he read about Eileen’s son; she really was desperate, especially if she was so adamant to apologize over an imagined offense. Then again, he could be a jealous bastard at times, so he didn’t blame her.
And her son: This Severus would need to be especially educated if he was to have any chance of fitting in with the future rulers of the Wizarding World, especially because of his parent’s history. Tom’s own poverty had doomed any of his own efforts of acceptance by most of Magical society, and even if Eileen’s son was relatively well off, he’d still be given a run for whatever money he had by it too.
Without further prompting, Tom tried to find Cokeworth in an atlas of Magical Britain, only to have to resort to heading to a Muggle Public Library for the first time ever to borrow a Muggle one. Once he found the tiny spec of a place, he apparated as close as he could to it before walking into town to find Moresby Lane.
The Snape Residence was right at the edge of town, though it was no less run down than the rest of the place: Its red bricks were worn, tiles loose and gutters rusting, all of it a sad parody of what Tom supposed Eileen had wanted all those years ago. He stepped through the near non-existent gate, before he was ambushed by a long black-haired woman in overalls and a sun hat jumping on him.
“Merlin!” Tom exclaimed, steadying himself from her grasp. “You must miss me as much as I do!”
“Damn right I have!” Eileen said. She backed away at first before jumping at him again, more subdued now. “Oh, god, I’m sorry Tom! I’m sorry about leaving you behind all those years, sorry about-”
“Let’s go inside and have a cup of tea,” Tom interrupted, stopping Eileen before she could start. He was happy enough to see her alive at all. “We have other business.”
“Oh, yes right,” Eileen said, her demeanor quieting. “I’m just glad to see you here,” she said once they were inside, hanging up her sun hat. “I didn’t think you’d ever come after so long-”
“I’d have come after hell froze over if it were to help with your boy,” Tom said tersely. “Speaking of which, where is he?”
“At school. He should be back soon. And so will his father once he gets home from work.”
Tom tried not to read into Eileen’s pause on mentioning her husband, and asked her a few basic questions on Severus’s development: When was the first time he showed signs of magic, how often has he shown it since then, et cetera, et cetera. It wasn’t long until the boy in question returned home.
Tom had always been uncomfortable around other children, and he was still somewhat apprehensive upon meeting new ones, but the sight of Eileen’s son took his breath away: He was dressed in oversized clothes, his long uncut hair was noticeably dirty, his socks were mismatched, he looked skeletally thin, even compared to his mother- Had it not been for the differences in the boy’s features, Tom would’ve thought he was looking his five year old self in the mirror.
“Hi mum!” Severus exclaimed, before clinging affectionately to his mother’s leg. Eileen hauled him up to her shoulders before asking him about his day. Tom didn’t catch any of it: Seeing the boy only made him realize what dire straits Eileen was in. The house didn’t look any better inside than out: The wallpaper was torn in places, revealing cracks in the wall, and the furniture was decrepit and appeared hand-me-down.
Tom could tell already this was no place to raise a child.
He turned to face Eileen only to be face to face with her son.
“Sevvy,” she cooed, “this is my friend, Tom. Tom Riddle. Say ‘hello’!”
“Hullo,” the boy said, and stuck out his hand.
Tom took it instinctively, not knowing what to say. This was Severus, Eileen’s son, a perfectly good and apparently well-mannered child, whom she’d decided to raise . . . here. Who would sooner than later be introduced to a society that would despise him simply for being born.
“He’ll be here to teach you magic,” Eileen said when Tom didn’t speak up.
The boy’s eyes lit up. “Even though dad’s here?” he said excitedly.
Tom flinched, and Eileen finally caught on. “Yes, Sevvy, he’ll teach you magic. You can go and play now!”
At that, Eileen dropped Severus so that he could head upstairs before giving Tom the most regretful forlorn look he’d ever seen on her face.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Tom hissed through his teeth. “What made you think raising a child, here, would be a good idea? You can’t even afford to give him proper clothes! And what’s this about his father?”
Eileen looked near tears. “I- I didn’t know it would get this bad,” she quivered. “I got pregnant suddenly, so we-we didn’t have time to prepare. And-and then-” She broke off there before looking out a window, not able to meet Tom’s gaze.
Tom looked out with her, trying to calm down. “Explanations won’t help now. I’ll tutor the boy, and if you need any extra money, tell me, and I’ll see what I can get.” He paused, before setting his hands on the window sill. “Do you love the boy?’ he asked suddenly.
Eileen looked at him for a moment. “Yes,” she said carefully, keeping back sobs. “I love him more than anything else in the world. Please believe me,” she added, almost begging.
Tom turned to her and nodded slightly. “That’s a lot more than I had growing up.” He sighed. “I had best go introduce myself properly,” he said before turning towards the stairs.
When he came to Severus’s room, Tom found him skimming a picture book from a small bookshelf on his bed, which Tom recognized as an illustrated version of The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
“Hello,” he said quietly. “Do you read about magic often?”
Severus stood there shyly for a moment before answering. “Yes. I like fairy tales!” he exclaimed. “Do-do you think you could read one to me?”
Tom hesitated. “Sure,” he said suddenly. “Why not?” He’d never been read to as a boy, but he was sure he would’ve liked it. He started at a random story and read until Severus snoozed gently against his side. Tom sat there unmoving, holding the frail boy to him and wondering what he was going to do, until the sun was going down and he heard Eileen heading up the stairs.
She paused and admired the scene in the doorway, until gesturing to Tom to help put Severus to bed. When they’d finished, they sat and watched the boy, the one who’d soon be taking on a whole world of hate, sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of his inevitable future.
“I can take care of the boy,” Tom said, finally breaking the silence.
Eileen nodded, calmer now. “We can start when school ends in June. You can visit in the meantime. He already likes you,” she said longingly, brushing a lock of Severus’s hair away from his forehead.
“I’ll see when I have time.” Tom looked upon the sight with a morbid wonder: The bright, optimistic teenager he’d known in Hogwarts had become a shell of herself, a tired, desperate mother, who now had a son who’d seem to have sucked all the joy out of her life.
“Why did you do this, Eileen?”
She didn’t look up from the boy, just kept brushing through his hair. It looked like he was one of the few comforts in her life. “Sometimes,” she said tiredly, “we act just as stupidly out of love than we do out of fear.”
Tom sighed: She was right. He’d seen countless people destroy themselves in the Wizarding World, beaching themselves on the rocks following a light they were sure would lead them to open sea. Usually, it was how Brax and the Old Man fought, trying to be loving to the people they needed on their side as much as they threatened them.
As of yet, Tom hadn’t come panhandling to either of them: He’d found out long ago that trying to befriend the rich and powerful was more trouble than it was worth. They’d never give up anything for him, that was certain. But as he gazed upon the helpless little boy that so resembled himself from all those years ago, he knew that was bound to change.