Innocent Eyes

You wear them so well, those innocent eyes, you're putting on a wonderful disguise,

-The Centre of the Heart (is a suburb to the brain)

Roxette

I write this story - no, this memory, it's much too real to be a story - from my favourite seat in front of the window. From this seat I can see the coastline in the distance, the deep blue sea capped with white as waves crash on the golden shores; I can see people lazily walking past on the warm sidewalks, their bathing suits (or lack thereof, in some cases) in sharp contrast to the faded tar on which only jeeps and other rough terrain vehicles ride, with the occasional bus or scooter; I can see the green hills in the distance, large mansions set into the mountains; I can see the sun setting as each day passed, the occasional ship silhouetted against the sky. Sometimes I could see the boiling of grey clouds in the sky as storms came and go, and always I can smell the salty sea-air, the sand, the people - it's an experience, living on the coast of Richardsbay.

But after half a century of living in South Africa, one does grow tired of it, and your mind reels back to what was, what happened, the past. Your thoughts drift back - way back - and you remember things you don't know you had in your mind in the first place. Or, in my case, you remember things that you've longed to forget. It happened to me about two weeks ago; at that stage I had heard the news - finally, I might add- that the one I longed to forget was still alive, and had gained power once more.

I'm talking - or writing, at least - about Tom Riddle.

For more than half a century I forgot about him, pushed him to the back of my mind, hid him in the basement of all irrelevant and unwanted thoughts. And for years his memory lurked there but then, as you can expect, it all came bursting back as soon as I heard the news.

God, how I regretted hearing it.

Now all I can do is remember. So I mused that, if I wrote it all down I might once again be able to forget and live in peace. So that is what I plan to do. I will tell the story of how Tom Riddle (aka Lord Voldemort) and I became best friends. I will tell all I can remember of him.

I will tell the truth.

~

September 1937

-1-

It was a dreary day, rain lashing at my mother and me as we stood beside the red steam engine. My trunk stood at my feet, almost larger than me - I was a timid-looking eleven-year-old, short and thin, with large blue eyes and dark hair tied back in a ponytail. My mother was fussing over me, tears leaking from her eyes - I was all she had, and she was sending me off to a magical school she'd never heard of, which taught things she would never understand. We were both emotional as the whistle sounded.

'You behave, OK?' she said, trying to smile. She was twenty-seven, and had had me when she was sixteen. She was also beautiful, but in a way I would never be - fair hair, deep blue eyes, smooth skin and two dimples in her red cheeks when she smiled a wide, shining smile that lit up the whole place, making it seem less dreary, less sad somehow. My father was dead - committed suicide two years after my birth - but we had survived as far, and we were all the other had in the world; why I had to go to a school hundreds of miles away was a mystery to me. I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay.

'I don't want to go,' I said, 'I want to stay with you, mommy.'

'You have to go,' she said, 'God gave you a talent for magic, and you have to go and study it. It's the only thing you ever got from your father, so be thankful.' I missed the joke in the sadness of the moment.

'But - ' I began.

'Excuse me,' my mother said to a passing prefect, who flushed as she gave him a warm smile, 'could you please take this trunk onto the train? I'm afraid neither of us are much good at moving it more than an inch at a time.'

'Sure, ma'am,' he said, lifting the trunk easily. A gold and crimson lapel shone on his chest, a shiny silver "P" pinned up above it. He had also added a nametag to his clothes; Henry Weasley, Gryffindor. His red hair gleamed, and he had a lot of freckles, that gave him the innocent look of a two-year-old.

'Show me where you want this to go,' he said to me, smiling.

My mother bended down and gave me a kiss on the cheek, tears flowing freely now. 'You write to me everyday,' she said softly, 'and tell me everything.'

'I will,' I said, not able to meet her eyes. I didn't want to be known as a crybaby on my first day.

'And you, Henry Weasley,' she said, addressing the prefect, 'watch out for her, will you, please? She's all I have in this world.'

We both flushed. 'I sure will, miss,' he said genuinely.

My mother gave him another warm smile. 'Thank you,' she said, gave me a hug and ushered me onto the train. It started moving and I waved, and when she disappeared from sight I stumbled along the corridor, peering into the compartments as I went. Henry talked the whole time, about how I shouldn't be worried and it's really a nice place, the school - then he stopped and pointed to a compartment I had pointedly passed; it's only inhabitant was a boy.

'Don't be afraid, now,' he said, opening the door. 'You don't mind, do you?' he shot at the boy, who shook his head and watched interestedly as the Prefect loaded my trunk into the luggage rack.

'Thanks,' I muttered as he moved past me.

'No problem,' he said, smiling, then he disappeared down the corridor and left me standing there. I closed the door and sat down, trying to avoid the boy's eyes; they were dark - almost black - and stood out from his pale face. He had dark hair and thin lips, and a slightly hooked nose. I looked at him, and saw a small snake with a diamond shaped head shifting on his lap.

'I'm Sadie,' I managed to say, 'Sadie Moon.'

'Tom Riddle,' he said, slightly hoarsely. His voice was like the low hiss of a snake; the back of my neck prickled and I squirmed slightly.

He stroked the snake gently, hissing under his breath. I watched him, and the impossible thought struck my mind; he could talk to snakes.

'You can talk to snakes?' I asked.

He looked up at me. His dark eyes were large and oddly shaped, slightly slanted, giving him a menacing look. The hands stroking the snake were pale and thin, with long delicate fingers. He was trembling slightly, and his dark eyebrows were pulled together in a frown.

'Y-yes,' he said, with the slight stammer.

'That is - ' I pondered for a moment exactly what my opinion was on people who could talk to snakes, but discovered I had none. So I decided I liked it. ' - pretty neat.'

He gazed at me for a long time, his dark eyes studying mine. 'Thank you,' he finally said. He glanced down at his snake, then lifted it carefully from his lap and held it out to me. 'Her name is Nagini,' he offered.

I hesitated, then held out my hands to receive the snake. I felt the cold coils beneath my fingers, and settled the snake on my lap, where it - she - moved almost uncertainly, then she rested her triangular head on my left knee, and I relaxed.

'She likes you,' he told me.

'Did she tell you that?' I asked.

'No,' he said, sitting back and folding his hands in his lap, his dark eyes never leaving my own blue-grey eyes, 'if she hadn't liked you, you would have been dead by now.' For a moment he seemed to be thinking, his eyebrows knitted together, then he added seriously, 'I'm glad you're not.'

*

A stately witch led us into the Great Hall, carrying a three-legged stool with a patched and frayed hat on it. I was wondering exactly what she would have us do with this hat when a boy behind Tom whispered something about it being "the Sorting Hat". I didn't believe him, of course, because how could a Magical school sort you into houses using a hat?

She placed the stool on the stone floor, leaving the hat on it, then she folded her hands together, apparently waiting for something. A rip near the brim opened, and the hat, to my amazement, began to sing.

To young eyes I may look dirty and frayed,

But I've been sorting students,

For years on this same day,

So take a little trust,

And put it in this song,

So that the sorting can go on:

Four houses exist within this school,

Each house has traits for which it rules,

I'll sort you with your bunch,

Whether you be smart, pretty or a fool,

So listen closely to my song,

For I will tell you where you belong:

Gryffindor, for those seeking justice and a brave heart,

Hufflepuff for those who are loyal to the whim,

Slytherin for those of great cunning, just like him,

Or Ravenclaw, where your wit sets you apart?

Put me on your head, and listen to what I say,

I'll find you the perfect house, no matter the way,

Don't be afraid, don't be scared, trust in this song,

For I am the Sorting Hat,

And I'll put you where you belong.

I hesitated, then clapped hands with the rest. I had no idea where I belonged; as far as I was concerned, I possessed none of those qualities. 'Where do you think you'll go?' I asked Tom over my shoulder.

'Slytherin,' he said, without hesitating.

The stately witch shook open a roll of parchment and began calling out names. My insides writhed, went cold and finally disappeared as my turn came closer; finally the witch called out 'Moon, Sadie,' and I stumbled from the line, aware that every eye in the Great Hall was on me. I sat down on the stool and dropped the hat on my head; it instantly fell over my eyes, and a little voice spoke in my ear.

'Ah, another Moon. I remember your father. It seems you never knew him? Just as well. Not the best influence on a child, I'd say...but of course, you must remember that I knew him when he was eleven...so, let's see, let's see...'

'Can - can I ask you something?' I thought.

'You want to go to Slytherin,' the hat said. 'Because you have a friend there. But no, Sadie, you won't make it in Slytherin - you possess a fine mind, and you have many qualities old Slytherin would have admired - but you are, by and large, a Gryffindor. Perhaps Ravenclaw, even...no, it's Gryffindor for you, lassie.'

'Don't I have a say in this?

'If you had requested Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff, I would have allowed it. But Slytherin? I see a lot more than just your mind. You're not destined for Slytherin. You're destined for GRYFFINDOR!'

I snatched the hat from my head and replaced it on the stool, then hurried over to the table clapping for me. I sat down and tried to catch Tom's eye. When I did, I gave him a smile, which he hesitantly returned.

'Riddle, Tom,' the stately witch called out.

He walked calmly to the stool and sat down, then plopped the hat onto his head. There was a moment's pause, then -

'SLYTHERIN!'

The table second from left burst out in applause and he joined them. As soon as he sat down his dark eyes searched for my face at the table, and he smiled again at me as our eyes met.

'What's he smiling at?' a girl with thick glasses and an irritatingly high voice asked. She, too, was first-year, and her name was Myrtle. She was sitting a seat from me; we were separated by a burly girl with thick, golden plaits and a mean-look about her.

'He's smiling at me,' I said, 'because he's my friend.'

'Oh, really?' she asked, with unflattering disbelief. 'Miss Popular has many little friends?'

'At least people like me,' I snapped.

'I don't need to be liked to be happy!' the girl spat.

'Hey,' the burly girl interrupted. 'That's no way to start the new year. Now, apologize. Both of you.'

We both muttered apologies, and as soon as she looked away I rolled my eyes. The burly girl gave me a thin smile but said nothing, and turned her attention to the head table. I followed her eyes and studied the faces of my professors, finally stopping to study the little man who had risen to his feet.

'Welcome!' he said, and his voice was surprisingly deep, 'to Hogwarts! I am the Head, Professor Armando Dippet, for those that don't know me, and those that despise me!'

There was a round of laughter, during which my stomach grumbled. I flushed, but luckily no one had heard it.

'Just a few things to get clear before we start this year; as always, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden. No magic between corridors. No duelling, or nicking food from the kitchen - ' here he glanced in Henry's direction, ' - and remember that breaking any of these rules, or those contained within the Rule Book, is a punishable offence. Now, enjoy your dinner, and welcome back - or welcome - to Hogwarts!'

There was a round of polite applause from the assembled students. Suddenly the tables filled with food, and I gaped before reaching out tenderly for the potatoes. Myrtle snatched them away from me, and gave me a nasty grin. I glared and opened my mouth to say something, but right at that moment Henry plopped down beside me.

'How are you feeling?' he asked.

'About as well as I can feel,' I said, glancing at Myrtle.

'Ah,' Henry said, 'well, if anyone's giving you any trouble, I'll fix them up for you.' He said this loudly enough that Myrtle couldn't miss it, and I saw her cringe slightly; Henry was intimidating. He had the cutest face, but he was tall and muscled, and looked as though he could crack coconuts in his nose holes.

'Thanks, but it's OK,' I whispered. 'Really,' I added.

'You know,' he said, his eyes raking the Slytherin table, 'I don't think I'll have to, not with your friend around. He's been watching you most of the time.'

I followed his eyes. Tom was chatting to a boy, and even as we looked he shot me a glance. As our eyes met I smiled, but this time he didn't return it; his eyes swept Henry before returning to the boy.

'His name's Tom,' I said, uncertainly, 'he's actually really nice...'

'He's in Slytherin,' Henry observed.

'And?'

'I'll put it this way, kid,' he said, quietly, 'Slytherins aren't the nicest bunch of kids. And Slytherins and Gryffindor don't get along, at all. I'll give you a piece of advice - break it off.'

'I like him,' I said defensively, 'he's not that bad at all.'

Henry surveyed me. 'If he gives you trouble, come to me,' he said, finally, then straightened and joined a group of girls at the Hufflepuff table. I watched him for a moment, then I glanced at Tom; he was immersed in conversation, and did not look at me while I was staring at him. After a while I started on my food again, my appetite gone.

People warned me against Tom from the very beginning; if only I'd listened to them.