Mirrors and Eyes

Outskirts of Little Hangleton

As soon as the Ministry man ran from the cottage, Morfin followed firing curses from his wand and screaming in Parseltongue. Marvolo gave his daughter one last blow to the face, and then proceeded to help Morfin chase Ogden off. Merope gathered her grey, dirty skirts about her and ran off through the woods. Father was terribly angry, now that Brother had told him about Tom. Her neck was still sore from the rough choking, and it burned when the necklace rubbed against it. Even as she ran, afraid for her life, Merope tucked Slytherin's necklace close to her heart. Father had always told her that the pure blood coursing beneath her skin was the only reason that Salazar's heirloom adorned her filthy Squib neck and not some chest or cabinet. But now even her blood might not be enough to stop Father from killing her in a fit of rage. Best to hide in the woods and wait for him to calm down.

Merope hid in the woods till nightfall, listening as a score of Ministry wizards subduing Father and Brother and Apperateing them away. Then she listened to the forest animals coming out of hiding after the fuss. A small adder slithered by her some hours later, pausing to flick his forked tongue at her, but moving on without a word. Once she was quite sure that Morfin and Marvolo were not coming back that night, she crept back into the hut. Sitting on the same filthy armchair that Morfin had occupied earlier, Merope realized that she was truly alone. The Ministry workers, while fighting the Gaunt men, had shouted that they were going straight to Azkaban. Seeing as Father and Brother were not here, cursing her for the poor taste of dinner, she supposed that they had been telling the truth. Merope was forced to realize that now she would have to live as Merope. Not Merope Gaunt, worthless Squib, descendant of Salazar Slytherin, but just Merope.

Come midnight, Merope was still sitting there, thinking. She had always before been able to see what she was by looking in Marvolo's eyes. Father had wild, black eyes that seemed to burn whenever she got up the courage to look straight in them. She could see herself reflected in them, dirty, worthless, and weak. There was something mad that boiled beneath the surface, as well. That madness she had come to think of Marvolo himself, in his purest form. She could see echoes of Marvolo when she looked in Morfin's eyes, layered over with brutish anger. Brother could never escape Father, because Father was there, deep down in his eyes. But now Merope could escape Father. She was all alone. For a moment it seemed that the sheer force of having to become someone else was going to overwhelm her. How was she to know what, who she was, if Father was not there to tell her with his eyes? But then, a vision of a tall, handsome, dark-haired man pushed all that down. Suddenly she could hear that wonderful voice calling her 'My dear', and Merope knew what she had to do.

The first time she successfully used her wand, Merope cracked her heavy face into a smile. Without anyone yelling at her and hitting her, she found that she could actually do magic just like Father and Brother. She knew where a witch lived in Great Hangleton, one who was willing to teach her how to brew a love potion for the right price. Gathering up the last few coins the Gaunt family had, Merope went to Great Hangleton to get the last thing she needed to start her new life. Tom (always just Tom in her mind) usually passed by their house every Thursday, on his way home from visiting Cecilia. She would hide in the bushes watching him go by, and something deep inside her ached. But wish as she may, she had never gotten up the courage to come out from her hiding spot. This Thursday was going to be different.

Merope hovered outside the run-down hut, waiting for Tom to pass by and clutching a water bottle tight to her chest. When she heard the clip-clop of a horse coming up the road, she smoothed down her dull brown hair and steeled herself. Tom came riding by, wiping at his neck with a silk handkerchief and complaining loudly about the heat. Hesitantly, she stepped forward, eyes downcast and held out the water bottle.

"Please, Mr. Riddle sir, would you like a drink? It is very hot out." He paused in surprise. Frowning, he looked at her, and then looked at the hut behind her.

"You that tramp Gaunt's daughter?" She nodded.

"My, my father's not here now. Would you like a drink?" She blushed as she looked up into his blue eyes. Her breath caught as she saw something careless and cruel lingering in his eyes, but then he threw back his dark, curled head and laughed.

"Your father's gone, eh? And now here you are, offering your water to young men passing by." She blushed even harder, and bowed her head. "Ah, give it here." He swept the bottle out of her hand and noisily gulped the water down. The bottle fell from his hand as the potion took hold, and then he looked down at her. "You're, you're quite beautiful, you know." She looked up at him, and saw that he was beaming down at her, eyes full of blank adoration. And for the second time, Merope's plain face broke into a smile.

London

Merope and Tom had been together for a few months before Tom had gotten her the mirror. He always wanted to please her, an eager expression on his face and sparkles in his eyes. Merope always tried to ignore the emptiness behind the sparkles, though. It made her stomach turn, so she avoided looking at them. But she was still happy, happier then she had ever though possible. She could spend hours watching him, and often did. One day, a few months after they'd run away together, Tom had a present for her. He said that it was to make her smile, and she did smile when she saw the package. She opened it to see a small ornate mirror. Tom was saying something about how her face was his favorite thing to look at, but she could barely hear him. All she could see was a familiar madness rushing and seething beneath her eyes....Marvolo was in her too, just like Morfin. She suddenly threw the mirror away from her, shattering it and startling Tom. That night she didn't give him the potion.

London, several months later

Merope knew that she was hanging on for one reason: her baby. When the potion had worn off, Tom had been furious. He raged and kicked and shouted at her, and as he left, she thought that she loved him even more. Merope knew that he was never going to come back to her though, and again she found herself alone. When she first felt the baby kick, she knew that she had a new purpose in life. The precious locket of Salazar Slytherin went for almost nothing, but she had to eat. Instead of retreating to daydreams of a handsome Muggle with dark hair and a loud laugh, as she had done when she lived in Little Hangleton, she now thought about the baby she carried. It was the only piece of Tom she had left.

London, New Years Eve

It was cold...so cold..... Bertha Cole peered out the dingy window and saw a ragged girl, very pregnant, stumble up the stairs of the orphanage. "Mrs. Bertram! Mrs. Bertram! 'Ere's a strange girl here! An' I think she's in labor!" Cole ran out down the stairs she was supposed to clean daily but rarely did. The strange girl had collapsed and was brought into the orphanage, in the middle of labor. Several hours later, Merope gave birth to a baby boy. He was wrapped in what dirty grey rags were laying around and pushed into her arms. " Ere now, what're you going to call him? He's gotta have a name." A small, bright cheeked girl in a servant's uniform said. Merope, dazed, looked down at the unnaturally quiet bundle in her arms. "Tom, name him Tom, after his father." a familiar madness rushing and seething beneath her eyes.... "And Marvolo. After his grandfather." She looked down at her baby Tom and kissed him. Then she died.