Avielle Riddle

The young woman stood in the rain, her bones quivering from the cold, her thin hands clutched to her old tattered umbrella. She was gazing up ahead of her, her fiery blue eyes ablaze, her face set, and yet...she was terrified at what she was about to do.

She thought again what she was going to say and once again ran her hand down her sopping wet shirt, placing her hand over her abdomen.

"It´s for the baby´s sake," she told herself, he voice steady and firm. She held out her hand to the cold iron gate leading it up to stone mansion, and opened it. It was old and rusty, and had a terrible squeak about it, but everything at Tom´s old mansion was ancient and she loved it that way; yet she had been cast from it by her coldhearted beloved weeks earlier...that was before she knew she was with child. And even if she did not, she would have been too panic-stricken at the time to tell him.

The young woman made her way up the broken stone walkway, her footsteps heavy, her posture straight. She clutched her coat closer to her neck, trying to ward off the fierce wind that raged around her, as she made her way up the battered steps of the Riddle´s mansion. She knocked thrice at the door.

No answer came for a length of time that seemed an eternity. The girl was patient and waited, glad to be protected unto a roof from the rain, even though the air was still bitter cold. An answer at the door finally came minutes later as the thirty-year-old Tom Riddle, hair a mess, shirttail unbuttoned, opened the door for his former lover reluctantly. He looked as though he´d just stepped out of the shower.

"Avielle?" he said out of breath from running down flights of steps. "I didn´t expect to see you here again." He looked at his watch uncomfortably as she slipped in the house behind him, water dripping from her umbrella and boots. Avielle started to say something but the man had suddenly turned on her, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"What are you doing here, huh? Come to beg for money again? Come to try and win me back? He demanded. He was shacking the delicate girl, flinching at every look she gave him. Avielle, her shoulders sore, pulled away from him and backed up against the wall of the hallway.

"You´ve been drinking again, haven´t you?" she said calmly. "You´re too young to ruin your life like that, Tom."

"And you´re too young to be wanting me back!" he said, crossing his arms. "Honestly, Avi, you´re still a little girl!" he yelled at her. Avielle looked down at the floor, wishing he would not always remind her of the fact that he was thirteen years her senior and she was not yet even seventeen, which made what she had to tell him even worse.

Avielle had always felt, and acted older than she truly was. When she was four she already knew the summoning charm, and she graduated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a year earlier than all her peers. She had met Tom at a carnival she had attended with her friends post-Hogwarts years and they had dated only twice before...Avielle cursed herself for how foolish she had been.

He was drunk that night I went home with him, she thought to herself. If I hadn´t listened to his proposal I wouldn´t be here in the first place. She realized how long she had been silent and looked up into Tom´s black eyes.

"Are you not even going to invite me in?" she asked. "Perhaps for some tea, I´ve walked miles in the rain just to talk to you about...something."

"Oh, all right," Tom said, leading her into the sitting room where he already had tea prepared. "But make it quick, I´m expecting someone." He poured her a cup of warm tea and she took it thankfully, pressing it to her face to warm her cold body.

"I came to tell you something very important," she said at last. Tom was gazing into the fire, his back turned from her, silent. "About...Tom, I´m pregnant." She saw Tom´s face fall to his chest, and she knew he was closing his eyes, thinking about what to say to her.

"And I suppose I´m the father?" he said, his voice extremely cold.

"Yes." The silence that followed was deafening. Avielle bit her lip, wondering if she would reply. Silently she took from her pocket a little brown piercing of parchment, folded and wrapped with a little violet ribbon. She placed it gingerly on Tom´s cigarette tray and stood, praying he would call he back to him as she approached the door, but he said nothing.

"I suppose I´ll go now," she whispered, and Tom barely heard her. All he heard was the door creaking open and he footsteps echoing softer and softer...until they had faded away completely. He turned, the front door wide open, wind blowing the curtains to and fro. He walked to the door to close it, and peered out.

"Avielle?" he said, his voice breaking. He only saw her distant figure walking quickly away, down the beaten road, her thin lilac dress blowing in the wind behind her. "You forgot your umbrella." He hadn´t meant for her to hear him, for he knew she had made up her mind. He had been too foolish in the past...too foolish to let her go, when she needed him now. She was a very poor girl, no family or friends, without a job, and her health was steadily growing worse, even though she tried to hide it. He cursed his conceitedness under his breath as he closed the door, getting one last look at her.

Tom sighed and sat down on his couch, peering at the mug where her half-drinking tea was cooling off. A bit of crimson lipstick had come off her lips onto the porcelain cup and he smiled, remembering how fond she was of her lipstick, as it was one of the few novelties she had.

He had half a heart to stand up at that moment and run after her in the rain, and forget about his friends who were coming over later that night. He was about to leave when the little piece of folded parchment caught his eye. He picked it up gently, and removed the lilac ribbon she had once warn on her hair, so delicately tied in a bow. It was a letter, he discovered it as he opened the parchment up. He sat back down again and, mouth open, tears welling in his eyes, read:

My dearest Tom,

I did not have the courage to tell you everything to your face, which is why I wrote you this letter. I hope you will understand everything, and why I do not want you to come after me.

I am not an ordinary woman Tom. I am flouting some great secrets to you, which I must entrust you to keep for my sake. I met you at the carnival with a few of my friends two years ago and I must say that I have never been as taken to a muggle as I was to you. The term I used, "muggle", is what I and the rest of the wizarding world call those humans who have not been born with the gift of magic, as I have.

Tom read on, fascinated, as she told him of Hogwarts, and how there were witches and wizards in the world, and how she was one of them. It was not until the very end that her subject changed to the baby.

The doctor says it is a boy. It is still quite early to tell, but I am praying that it will be. I do not wish for you to seek me out, for the reason that I think I can raise a child alone, as my mother did. But I want this child to have a special part of you, therefore I will give it your name...Tom Riddle, even if you may, or may not come to learn of you, and Marvolo after my father. I will pray for you, Tom.

Always yours,

Avielle

Tom folded up the piece of parchment and stood, making his way to the door. He didn´t care if Avielle told him not to follow her, the regret and guilt he felt was too great. He opened the door forcefully, not caring to get a coat, as he darted out into the streets of Little Hangleton after her.

"Avielle!" he cried. He would care for her, and the baby, and would support her and...

"Avielle!" he cried again. She was no where in sight. Drenched and cold, he went through the village square looking for her, but it seemed she had suddenly disappeared. Then, he remembered, this was likely, she was a witch after all, and knew magic. She could go wherever she pleased, and he might never find her. He did not give up hope, he kept looking. He went to every town she had ever lived in, every hospital he could think of.

But by the time he found her it was too late.

***