Tom what again ?
One evening during my 5th year, the bombshell fell upon me.
I was casually leafing through a children's adventure book while reclining on my bed in our shared room. Tom sat at our desk, determinedly teaching himself to read by tackling a book as complex as mine, just to prove his capabilities.
I inwardly chuckled at his efforts. The five-year-old was clearly struggling with the material, but he displayed impressive persistence, jotting down unfamiliar words and diligently looking up their meanings in the thick dictionary before him.
A small smirk formed on my face. How studious.
His face furrowed in concentration, and I found myself grinning at him in amazement.
He noticed and shot a venomous glare back at me.
"What?" he inquired, almost aggressively.
He likely assumed I was mocking him, but I wasn't. Sometimes, I found his stubbornness somewhat endearing, which annoyed him.
I smiled knowingly. "Nothing." "Am I interrupting your reading, Tom?" I teased.
"Don't call me Tom," he scowled.
"What should I call you, then? You get upset when I call you 'brat' or 'kiddo.'" I feigned a sad expression. "What should I do when you won't let me give you an affectionate nickname? Aren't we close? Right, Tommy-boy?"
His face contorted with disgust.
"Your so-called affectionate nicknames are degrading. Moreover, I've read that it's only respectful to address people by their surname." He sounded incredibly proud of his newfound vocabulary and knowledge. I found it amusing that he was becoming a know-it-all.
"Well, wouldn't it be easier if you had provided me with said surname, let's say, the first 57 times I asked you? Is your surname a national secret? It wouldn't kill you to say it once!"
He smirked triumphantly. "Well, I know yours."
I bolted upright. "How?!"
He nonchalantly shrugged, his eyes fixed on his book. "Saw it on the matron's desk."
"Stop lying! That's personal information only in my file. No one but the matron has access to those. And even she wouldn't let you read it. How could you have..." A look of understanding dawned on my face. "You! You snuck in and read it! You sly fox! How did you avoid getting caught?" I exclaimed, outraged.
"Your fault for not seeking valuable information laid out before you." Pure smugness radiated from him.
"It's illegal!" I interjected. He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, as if daring me to deny that I wouldn't have tried it myself if I had thought of it sooner.
"You can't do that! It's unfair that you know mine while I still don't know yours." Suddenly remembering something important, my face lit up. "Ah! I remember! I know it starts with an 'R'! You're Tom Rrrrrrrr-something, right?" I beamed.
He seemed taken aback.
"H-how?" he stammered, disbelieving.
Certain I was onto something, I pressed on: "It's sewn on your boxers: Tom.R"
His face turned crimson.
"You...! How dare you rifle through my undergarments!" His flushed cheeks could rival the hue of ripe tomatoes.
I chuckled. "What? Do you want to see mine too? To get even with me?"
"I can't believe your crassness!" he sputtered.
"That's it! You sound just like the matron! You should pursue a career as an impersonator! You have talent, I tell you !" I rolled around, laughing on my bed. He narrowed his eyes at me and decided to ignore the hysterical laughter.
Truly, only Tom could bring out my childish side like that. Over the years, I had been warming up to him more and more, and I liked to think the feeling was mutual.
"Riddle," he said abruptly.
I raised a puzzled eyebrow.
"What riddle? Are you reading a book about riddles? I warn you, I'm not good at those. I can't help you. You're on your own."
He rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Not riddles. Riddle," he deadpanned. "That's my surname. Tom Riddle."
My smile vanished, and I felt as if the earth had opened up to swallow me whole.
Had I heard correctly?
Tom Riddle? As in Riddle-Riddle? Riddle-Voldemort? The darkest wizard in the entire Harry Potter universe?
That Riddle?
Had I just been teasing the future Dark Lord, unaware I was a hair's breadth away from losing my hard-earned second chance at life?
Oh, hell no…
Forget it all.
I was as good as dead now. The man-now-boy held incredibly long grudges.
And I had offended him daily.