The weather was bad that night Merope Gaunt waddled down that muggle street. The wind was howling as frozen rain beat down on her frail body. More then once the exhaustion and pain of contractions brought her to her knees. The pain was not the worst she had had. However it was the worst in years.
With another contraction she let out a yelp in pain cursing as she fell to her knees. Lightning illuminated the sky as a small light in the distance could be seen. No longer strong enough to stand she crawled down the muddy course road on bloody hands and knees. Each inch cold mud met warm blood as tears stained her face. How could this be possible, the last born descendant of the mighty Salazar Slytherin crawling through mud and sleet all because of a muggle.
Tom Riddle. Pale skin that shined like crystal in the moon light. Thick dark hair collected neatly on top of his precious head. Big brown eyes that could portray so much emotion; hate, love, lust and jealousy. A heart so kind to some and cruel to others. Tom Riddle was someone to love. Tall and masculine. A mind so keen and alert, yet so easily deceived. For years Merope had him under her spell. For years not a soul could understand how the wealthy prestigious Tom Riddle could fall in love with Merope Gaunt. The freak, the timid and miserable girl who fell hopelessly in love. How was it that for years tom scalded her and kicked dirt at her. Was there any explanation? Merope Gaunt, the frail pregnant women crawling to an orphanage on her hands and knees. Could it be that she was more then she seems?
The sign of Wool’s orphanage in London creaked eerily in the wind as she hoisted herself up the stairs barely conscious. Since Tom left the days have drug on and the weeks seemed unbearable. Her vision blurred between consciousness as her bloody hands smeared on the door. A young women no older then herself opened the door a smile etched on her from what must have been a New Year’s Eve party. Soon the women’s face was lined with grieve and worry as she called for help and heaved Merope inside. A man that looked much like her own brother came walking towards her. As she coward in fear the first lady who found her called him off whispering words of condolence to the weary Merope.
Mofrin Gaunt was her brother. He was violent and insane. Merope was terrified of him as a child as she was to this day. She was different from him though, kind and gentle. Merope loved all and her brother did not. He was vile and cruel and tortured people for the fun of it. Muggle abuse was Morfin’s favorite game in life. He was proud of his pureblood line, but that was as far as his pride went. Respect for anyone but her father was unheard of. Not even their greatest ancestor’s symbol was sacred to him. Deranged and not mentally right he nail snakes to the door.
Merope thought of her brother as another contraction set in. All he did wrong, and still she was the one to be punished. The lights overhead flickered slightly then extinguished entirely. Candles were lit around the room as the sleet storm grew more intense outside. The very walls of the building seemed to shake. There was no time to clean Merope up as she was told to push. More tears mingled with sweat and sleet sliding down her face as she screamed with every movement. Her hands stung like acid and her muscles tensed making it seem impossible to move. Lightning flashed and the thunder crashed as Marvolo Gaunt’s evil laugh resounded in her ears.
Merope began to shake her head back and forth in a violent attempt to get her father from her head. Dead she thought, he is dead. And he deserved to die for what he did. My love, my one and only love he drove away. Tom left me withthis child and nothing to my name for what my father did to him. For how my father treated me. Again the lightning came much more subtle barely showering its light in the room. The thunder crashed several minutes later as her father’s voice filled her ears. The one and only time she ever heard the words, “I love you.” She replayd over and over what it would have been like just once to make him proud. Just once to have been a daughter to live up to the name of Salazar Slytherin her greatest ancestor. Just once she wondered what it would have been like for her father to not have always been right.
Marvolo was right. Tom Riddle never loved her. Merope Gaunt was no more then a waste of space bringing pity to the name. She felt more ashamed then ever as she sat screaming in a muggle orphanage waiting for the arrival of her son. A son that will never know his past. One who will never have a future. A son who will only be left with the name of the only two people to whom Merope cared for. One last agonizing push and a cry escaped the lips of a purple baby. One more push and Merope felt her last ties to life rapidly slipping away.
The baby was placed in the arms of the dirty Merope Gaunt. She stared into the dark brown eyes of the baby who was destined for greatness. His story was great, and will never be told. She looked to the lady who found her on the steps, now wearing a name badge that read Mrs. Cole. Merope found the strength to smile and choke out, “he looks just like his father.” Looking down she stroked her blood and mud caked hand down his face leaving a horrid streak and hissed something sweetly. Mrs. Cole wrote it off as humming that day refusing to believe a mother would indeed hiss at her son moments after giving birth.
The sleet had slowed and turned to snow. Merope lay in bed feeling the life leaking from her every pore. She gave Mrs. Cole one last fleeting look and whispered, “Tom Marvolo Riddle, for his father, and his grandfather.” Merope's frail body went limp nearly dropping the new born child on the floor. She got to meet her son, just once and there was no longer a reason to live. That was the very last anyone ever heard of Merope Gaunt.
Mrs. Cole laid the mysterious baby, Tom Marvolo Riddle down in his new bed and flicked the light off. His crib lay beneath a window cold and lonely. As the first snow fall danced out of the cooing babies reach a snake was seen in the distance slithering forward. Stopping just outside the window the snake hissed, “You are the last born heir to Salazar Slytherin. You will be legendary.”
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