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Playing With Fire

By Renee-Michelle

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Hello everyone! So after much thought I decided to redo this story. I hope that this changes some things and I hope that you guys will like it! Let's GO!

September 1st, 1984

Marguerite Baudelaire stared up at the large Hogwarts Express, grey streaks glimmering as the slight breeze through the station blew her long hair. Smiling she looked down at the little girl by her side. "Isn't this exciting, Tilly? Your first year of school?"

Tilly Riddle met her gaze but said nothing, as usual.

It always amazed Marguerite just how much her granddaughter looked like her. Many would have thought the eleven-year-old was hers but she was definitely her father's daughter.

Oh Benjamin.

It still hit like a shock to realize that her son, her only child, was dead, killed by his own father's men.

It had been nearly four decades since she had run away from Lord Voldemort, carrying her and Tom Riddle's son in her womb. She still couldn't connect the two. Of course, Marguerite realized that they were one in the same but the Tom Riddle she had fallen in love with couldn't be the same man who had attempted to kill that poor little Harry Potter almost three years ago.

And only she lived with that truth, she and Dumbledore. Those who asked of the husband she never married were told that he disappeared. The rumor spread and lived today. No one would ever question it.

Marguerite had worked endlessly, raising Benjamin to be a totally different person, though he had his father's last name. Benjamin had been brave, smart, handsome, and so kind that it wasn't a wonder when Madeline, a beautiful Muggle woman, had fallen head over heels in love with him and him with her. It was devastating when Madeline passed away but she left behind little Tilly who was as bright as anything.

Benjamin loved that little girl more than anything and was so horribly protective over her that it was amazing how often he was found in the battle field, fighting Voldemort's Death Eaters. He was such a threat to the other side even, that was the story anyway, that they sought him out, killed him in his own home . . . with Tilly hiding in the closet.

She had been eight then and hadn't spoken a word since, not really, not in front of anyone. Therapists, Healers, no one could get her to speak. Marguerite was desperately hoping that being around kids her own age would help her break out of her shell.

"Fred!" Tilly was jostled as a young boy with red hair pushed past her, chasing an even younger boy with the same matching hair. "Sorry!" He called over his shoulder. "Fred! Come back here! I need my wand!"

Marguerite shook her head, looking down at Tilly who had an angry frown on her face.

"Now," Marguerite said, bending down to straighten Tilly's shirt, "I want you to write me at least once a week, tell me how you're doing and your classes and things, okay? Whatever house you end up in is fine; just get to know some other kids alright? Stay out of trouble, please?"

Tilly nodded and her grandmother wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tight. Of course this would be the first time in three years that Tilly had ever been away from her and she was scared. Holding back tears she smiled, leaning back. "Go on, to your compartment then."

Pressing a kiss against her cheek, Marguerite gave her a gentle push in the direction of her compartment. Tilly reached the doorway, looking back at her grandmother once more before climbing on the train.

The whistle blew and the train began its slow motor out of the station. Marguerite waved at Tilly as she moved past.

"Have a good year," she whispered pressing her hands to her mouth.

Sighing, she walked out of the station.

Charlie Weasley tackled his five-year-old brother to the ground, wrestling his wand out of Fred's hand. "I'm going to tell mom if you don't –"

"Charlie!" The boy looked up as Bill approached, looking frantic. "What are you doing? Mum's going to go postal if she catches you two, running around here!"

"It's not my fault!" Charlie protested hopping to his feet. "Fred –"

"I'm George!" the five-year-old whined.

"Whatever!" Bill yelled. The third year sighed, shaking his head. "George, get back to mum. She's over there with Percy, Ron, and Ginny. Fred and Dad are looking for you so I hope you find mum before they find you. Come on, Charlie, we're going to get left."

Punching George hard in the shoulder, Charlie dived onto the train after his older brother. The whistle blew and the train started off.

"Oh! Charlie!" Charlie leaned out the window, watching as his mum huffed and puffed, dragging three-year-old Ron along behind her and Ginny crying in her arms. Percy struggled to keep up with the rest of them.

Deciding to save her the trouble, Charlie leaned out the window. "I'll be good, mum! I'll write every week! See you at Christmas!"

Bill pulled him back inside. "For Merlin's sake, you'll fall out! Go and find a compartment. I'm off to find Thomas and the rest."

With that, Bill left and Charlie meandered in the hallway, looking for an empty compartment. Of course none were empty but a few second years opened the door to him.

"You're Bill's brother right?" they asked.

Charlie sighed. This was going to be a long year.

September 16th, 1984

"She never talks."

"What is she? Dumb?"

"I think she's mute."

"Hey! Hey Riddle!"

Tilly ignored them, clutching her books tighter to her chest as she walked. All she had to do was get up the stairs and she'd get to the Ravenclaw tower and go to her room and hide behind the curtains.

It was quite obvious that she wasn't going to be making any friends here. They all stared at her, laughed at her, mocked her. It didn't make it any better that apparently her grandfather had been this whole wonderful Head Boy, Savior, Award winning wizard while he went here and she was nothing of the sort.

She was especially not faster than the boys who aimed to torment her at the moment. She scurried up the steps but someone grabbed the back of her robes, causing her to trip. Her books scuttled down the stairs and a few of the boys moved up, surrounding and trapping her on her place on the stairs.

Tilly reached for a book but the boy kicked it away. She looked up into his sneering face. "I wonder what your grandfather would say if he saw you now."

Dumb Slytherins.

"I heard he was tops here," the boy continued.

"What does that make you Riddle?" another asked.

"Lower than low," another laughed.

"It can only be a miracle that you ended up in Ravenclaw. It would have been so much worse if you had actually ended up in Slytherin."

"A disgrace, really."

"The Hat probably should have put you in Hufflepuff."

"No even Hufflepuff is too good for this one."

"You're right. They need a house specifically for pathetic nobodies!"

The boys laughed and Tilly's eyes pricked. Of course, this was the kind of stuff that never made it into to the letters to her grandmother. This was stuff she dealt with in her diary, though it wasn't like a real person. This was torture.


A blast of red hit the wall above their heads, causing bits of rubble to fall down around them. Tilly ducked, covering her head. She heard shouts and screams as the boys ran down the stairs.

The dust settled and Tilly hesitantly looked up. A boy stood on the step above her, wand out a fierce expression on his face. Shaking his head, he bent down, picking up one of her books as he kneeled. "Are you okay?"

Charlie Weasley. She remembered his name because the Hat barely touched his head before it said "Gryffindor". She also remembered him as the boy who almost knocked her down on the platform, that very first day. Tilly looked down, taking the book from him and stuffing it into her bag.

"It's Tilly right?" Charlie asked, reaching for another book. "Tilly Riddle? You're in my flying class. You're pretty good on a broom."

"What is going on here?" The two first years looked down at Professor McGonagall who was glaring at the damage around them. "Which one of you has been using magic in the corridors?"

Charlie went visibly pale, stuttering for words, and Tilly wasn't sure what to say, if she could say anything at all. Looking down, she spotted her wand at the foot of the steps.

"Well?" McGonagall said, obviously still waiting for an answer.

"Er," Charlie began in what was most certainly going to be an awful lie. "I, er –"


Tilly blushed as McGonagall and Charlie looked in her direction. McGonagall looked particularly shocked but then again, she had been the one to retrieve the young girl from her house that fateful night and she was often over at the Baudelaire home, watched the little girl grow up. "Til – Miss Riddle?"

"I – I f-f-fell. M-m-my wand w-w-went off," Tilly forced out."

Minerva McGonagall seemed to shake herself though a small smile was beginning to form on her face. "Yes well – do be more careful."

Tilly nodded, getting to her feet. McGonagall rushed off, no doubt to write to Marguerite and Tilly moved down the stairs to pick up her wand. When she looked back up, Charlie was standing now with her books in his arms, a grin on his face. "Thanks. My mum would have gone postal if I got detention."

Moving back up the steps, Tilly held out her arms for her things but Charlie wouldn't hand them over. "I'll walk you to your room if you want."

Tilly moved to shake her head but Charlie shrugged. "I want to."

With that, he started in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, turning to look at her over his shoulder with a grin. "You coming Tils?"


Could it be?

As soon as she reached his side, Charlie started talking about classes, about Quidditch, and she didn't even need to say anything.

A small smile formed on her face.

Maybe she was making a friend after all.

A/N: So idk, but I decided to rewrite this stuff. I hope you guys like it! Let me know and I'll see you next time.

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