The Years of Riddle

Chapter Twenty-Eight | London, August 1960

Chapter Twenty-Eight

London, August 1960

          It was a grim day, with weepy clouds and dripping trees, the colour sucked out of the world. The Lacroix apartment was unusually full, as Anthony had thought it would be fun to take the kids into the city for the week before school, so they could get Silas' supplies and enjoy what the city had to offer. Instead, all the kids could seem to remember was the last week of fun they had enjoyed with their mother before she had gotten too sick to even walk down the lane.

Silas was spread across the floor in his and Violet's shared bedroom, and having grown several inches in the last few months, nearly reached the width of the room. Violet was occupied by watching rain droplets hit the window and slide slowly down, while Silas was busy with his book.

A little less engaged than his children, Anthony was sitting in the living room, staring at the powder blue wall, wondering what Gwyn would have thought up to entertain the children on such a dreary day.

Outside, Tom Riddle stood with his heart beating out of his chest.

He had not see Gwyn in nearly fourteen years, and he wasn't even sure if she lived in the flat anymore. He had ceased having Avery follow them almost a year earlier, but had not used any of the information. In fact, he had barely read any of the noted Avery had given him. He just wanted to know she was around, and functioning – he didn't even know why.

"Come on, Tom." He urged, but did not move to ring the buzzer. It seemed he had become a coward when it came to Gwyn, which was frustrating, as there was no need to be scared. No, not of Gwyn. An old string, long worn, had been tugging at him to check up on her. The last time had not gone so well, he having left while Gwyn was still asleep. That had been nearly fourteen years ago.

He heard laughter, light and girlish, trickle from an upstairs window, and he pushed forward, pressing the buzzer. Anthony, thinking it was the children's aunt Heather, let him up.

Anthony moved for the door, and upon seeing who stood before him couldn't seem to catch his breath. "Tom."

Shifting nervously, a skeleton in his black suit, Tom tried to look past him. "I'm looking for Gwyn."

In the bedroom, Silas looked up from his book. A voice he didn't recognize had said his mother's name. "Vi, do you know who that is?"

She shrugged and traced the path of a rain droplet. "Nope." She was recovering from an impromptu tickle attack from Silas, an attempt to make her smile.

In the living room, Anthony was staring at Tom with a heartbroken look. "I don't mean to bother you," Tom added. "I just want to see her."

"Tom, she..." Anthony became teary, something Tom hated. "She died."

The earth seemed to stop moving, and Tom stopped breathing. The air had been sucked out of the room, and he began to tremble. "She's dead?" he choked out. "When?"

"New Years, she...her heart couldn't take it."

It was then that Silas and Violet peeked out of their room, and Tom saw the pale faces – one had the same wild look as Gwyn. "Whose this?" he asks, unable to believe his eyes.

"Our children." Anthony shifts, blocking his view. "Gwyn and mine."

"The boy..." Tom lowers his voice, watching the eyes with the same shape as Gwyn, the unruly coppery hair – an elegant nose, sharp cheekbones. A face he knew. The little girl was a ray of afternoon sun, with Anthony's features and long buttery curls. "How old is he?"

"I'm twelve –" started Silas, but Anthony interrupted.

"In November," he looked over his shoulder and gave Silas a sharp look. "He's twelve in November."

Tom could only stare at Gwyn's son, who stared right back. "Are you sure –?"

"Very," said Anthony firmly. "We are expecting company though." He looked at his children. "Go to your room." To Tom he said, "I'll walk you out."

Anthony practically shoved Tom down the stairs, and in the narrow hall he shoved him up against the wall. "Never come back here." He hissed.

"I was only looking for Gwyn." Tom had never feared Anthony Lacroix before, but he was starting to.

"She's gone," Anthony had not let go of Tom's collar yet. "If I ever see you anywhere near my children, I will hurt you – I don't care if it lands me in Azkaban. You will never go near them, you hear me?"

Tom nodded. "I hear you."

Letting him go, Anthony breathed heavily. "Get out."

Tom left, bumping into a tall middle-aged woman, with copious amounts of the same coppery hair as Gwyn. "Oh, sorry!" she said, but Tom did not reply, merely pushed past her into the street. Heather Phi turned to her nephew-in-law, surprised. "He seems cheery. Friend of yours?"

"Hardly." Said Anthony sourly. "That was Silas' biological...father." He spat the last word.

"Oh my!" Heather turned to look for another glimpse of him. "He did look oddly familiar." She looked back at Anthony. "Are you okay?"

"He saw Silas."

"Is that particularly bad?"

"He's a dangerous man, Heather." Anthony ushered her in. "I'm selling the flat, as soon as possible."

Heather followed him up the stairs, concerned suddenly if he was all right. "Is that really necessary?"

"Yes." He turned, fixing Heather with a serious stare. "Silas does not know who that was, and he never will. Can I trust you?"

Placing her hand over her heart, Heather nodded. "Of course Anthony, but are you – do you feel okay?"

Anthony shook his head. "Not when he's around."

Later, when Heather was reading Violet a story, Silas crept out and stood in front of his father. Anthony was slumped on the blue velvet sofa Gwyn had had in her apartment, eyes closed. "Papa?"

Opening his eyes, Anthony sighed. "Hey, Sy. Shouldn't you be going to sleep?"

"I, yeah..." Silas tugged at his pyjamas nervously. "Its just – why did you tell the man earlier that I was twelve in November?" Silas was turning thirteen in a few months.

Anthony rubbed his temples, wishing more than ever that Gwyn were there with him. "I need you to trust me, okay Sy?" he looked Silas in the eyes, and there was something missing in them. "I did it for a good reason, and one day – one day I will tell you everything."

Silas remembered what his mother had said the night she died, that one day he might doubt everything she had told him, and decided it was for the best. "I trust you, Pa."

Opening his arms, Anthony hugged his son tightly. He never wanted to let go, never wanted to tell him that he wasn't his biological father. He wished he wasn't gay, had fallen in love with Gwyn and married her and had their own son, like Violet. However, that was not how it was, and Anthony simply held on and loved with all his heart.

A/N: Many of you were wondering whether Silas would meet Tom...well, he has (sort of) the question is...

Will he meet him again? And at what time, under what circumstances? I wonder if this has made Silas even more suspicious than he already was...

Rose