A Sad Little Child

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You open your eyes to see black ink drip all around you. You stand up, turning your head to see Riddle on his knees with his head bowed in a spotlight. You approach Riddle, kneeling down beside him and gently placing a hand to his shoulder.

Riddle slowly looks up at you. Sadness showing in his eyes. He looks forward, an image projecting in front of you. You see a small dining room, the only light coming from the windows by the table. A little boy with red hair and blueish-gray eyes sits at the table. You recognize him, you believe this must be a younger version of Riddle.

"Happy eighth birthday, Riddle."

What you assume to be Riddle's mother, sets down a sad little cake. "This year's birthday cake is a low-sugar recipe made with nuts and lecithin-rich soy flour to improve your cerebral function."

The younger Riddle's sad expression doesn't change as he sees his small cake. "Thank you. But, Mom..." He tentatively looks up to his mother. Hope in his eyes. "Just once, I'd like to try one of those tarts covered with bright-red strawberries..."

Riddle's mother recoils back, a hand to her chest. "Absolutely not! Those tarts are monstrously unhealthy. I might as well feed you poison! Even just a single slice would exceed your recommended daily intake of sugar."

Riddle looks back to his cake sadly. His mother continues. "Now, dinner tonight will be a tuna sauté rich in DHA and omega-3 fatty acids. Now that you're eight, your caloric intake should be six hundred kilocalories per meal, so don't eat more than 100 grams of it. Understood?"

"Yes mother."

The image fades away. You look to Riddle who only looks to the floor. He draws in a shaky breath. "I'd always wanted to try one of those tarts with the bright red strawberries. The local cake shop had them in the window. They shined at me like forbidden jewels."

Another image appears before you. It's the same dining room but Riddle looks a little older than the last one. Riddle studies what looks like very hard and complex magic books. His mother walks in the room.

"That's enough classical magic study for today. Your homework is to read the first fifty pages of the philosophy of language book referenced in today's magical philosophy texts. You may now have one hour of independent study before your potionology lesson."

"Thank you mother." Riddle says with no emotion.

"I need some time to prepare the lesson materials. I will see you in one hour, okay?"

The image fades and the Riddle beside you shuts his eyes tightly. "I was studying every possible subject, scheduled down to the minute. When I didn't understand something, the lesson was extended until I did. That was my normal."

The same dinning room appears again. Riddle is studying again but is interrupted by tapping on the window.

"Is someone knocking on the window?" Riddle gets up opens one of the windows.

"Woah, he heard us!"

"Hey, come play with us!"

Two kids look eagerly to Riddle. "Who are you?"

"I'm Che'nya, and that's Trey. Let's all play croquet! Oh, but it's LOTS of fun!"

Riddle shakes his head. "I can't. I'm supposed to be doing independent study, and I have a lot of homework to do."

Little Che'nya tilts his head. "Independent study means you pick what to do, right? My grandpa says play is a form of study!"

Little Trey nods his head. "Just play with us for a little bit!"

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