The Fearsome Name of Riddle

Grief

"Have you seen this?" Ginny Weasly asked quietly as she poked her head into the spare room at the burrow. Harry Potter had been hiding in there since the battle of Hogwarts. She understood. He was tired and healing more than just physical wounds. But she also knew that completely closing himself off wouldn't help him, so she had decided to extend an olive branch. 

"Hm?" Harry sort of grunted as he lifted his head. His eyes were red and puffy but Ginny wasn't going to question him about that. 

She crossed the room, closing the door behind her, and sat down on the bed next to him. "Dean and Seamus found a photograph in the castle. It's Tom Riddle and some girl. A Malfoy apparently. Interesting, don't you think?" 

Harry frowned and sat up. Ginny handed him the copy of the daily prophet and let him look at the picture and the article. 

"It's odd seeing this version of Voldemort again," she said softly, a gentle smile on her lips as she watched him stare at the image, "but it does make me think of the first time you saved me. I just remembered feeling so relieved and safe when I saw you." 

A small smile appeared on Harry's face, he didn't look up at her but Ginny wasn't expecting a massive change. She just wanted to give him a small piece of comfort if she could. 

#####

Fourth Year

Victoria wasn't one to spend time alone so when Tom found her in a train compartment by herself it confused him. She was staring out the window and when he looked up to see if Obsidian knew why she was there alone, the Lestrange boy simply shook his head. They all seemed subdued. Not the usual overly energetic boys he was used to. 

Tom went in alone after Obsidian grabbed Huntley Avery by the collar to stop the other boys following him inside. 

"Victoria,” Tom said softly as the compartment door slid shut, “Are you alright?"

Victoria turned her head to see who had come in. Her eyes were hollow, an expression he'd never seen before on her face.

"Dandy," she muttered before turning back to the window. 

With a deep frown of concern, Tom sat down beside her. He couldn't think of anything that he had done, and the thought of anyone else hurting her like this was starting to boil his blood. Whoever it was would pay. He would curse them beyond recognition when he found out who it was. That was a vow he'd willingly make. 

"What happened?" Tom's jaw was tense, his mind racing with images of torture and death. 

Victoria's lip was shaking by the time she turned back to him. "My mother died." 

Tom's glare softened. He couldn't punish the dead for dying. 

"I'm sorry." Tom's voice was gentle as he put his arm around her shoulders. He didn't know what else to do. Holding her close was the only thing that seemed possible. He couldn't raise the dead. He couldn't turn back time. He could make her forget but she would hate him for doing that. 

Tom had never met Victoria's mother but he had seen her from the windows of the train. She had looked like an older version of Victoria, completely straight, platinum blonde hair and silvery grey eyes that sparkled like stars in the light. They had sharp jawlines and high cheekbones, and stood in the same composed, aristocratic way. 

He also knew her to be a pureblood witch. Something that was threatening his original disdain for his own mother's death. He had always thought that his mother must have been a muggle or muggle born to have died. That if she was truly a witch then she could have saved herself from death. But Victoria's mother, he knew that she was a witch. A rich pureblood at that, and even she couldn't save herself from death, nor could anyone around her.