HP: The Son of Tom

(Narrated by Stinky, the house-elf)

My name... is Stinky.

I haven't always been called that. They used to call me "creature," "shadow," "that thing," or simply "you." I never had a real name. But she gave me one, and since then, it's the only name I accept. I used to be a simple elf, a rag with legs—as pure-blood wizards liked to say. I cleaned up spilled potions, fetched scraps, and sometimes served as a living shield in duels. No one spoke to me kindly. No one looked me in the eyes.

Until she came.

Elaine Harper.

She saved me. Freed me without chains. Gave me a home without conditions. She taught me to read, to think, to cry without shame. And most importantly, she taught me that even those born to serve… can choose who they call a true friend.

I met her while she was still a student at Hogwarts. I belonged to an old pure-blood family—the Blishwicks—decadent and cruel. They used my magic for everything: washing their robes, cleaning blood off the floor after experiments, or punishing me for mistakes I didn't commit. My ears were torn when Elaine found me.

It was a winter afternoon, in the Forbidden Forest. Snow fell like ash. My legs were bleeding. I dragged a broken chain, barely breathing. I had escaped. The Blishwicks told me they were going to "set me free" forever—which in their tongue meant killing me and using my heart for a blood ritual.

I ran until I collapsed. Hid beneath a root, covered in mud, trembling. I cried, hidden under a hollow trunk, waiting for the centaurs to end it.

And then… a light. Light footsteps. A calm voice. A soaked blue Ravenclaw cloak. A wand in shaking fingers.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice trembling.

She seemed fragile… but her eyes.

Her eyes reflected calm.

She crouched beside the trunk and lit it with her wand. I shrank, expecting a curse.

I thought it was a trap. I closed my eyes.

But her wand cast not a punishment… but warmth.

A healing spell. Clumsy, but sincere.

When I opened my eyes, I saw her face. Dark, wide eyes. Brows furrowed with worry.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said. "I swear I won't."

I wanted to run. But my body wouldn't move.

"What… have they done to you?" she whispered.

Her fingers trembled as they touched my ribs—exposed. My ears hung, torn. My left eye was crusted over.

"Why… do you speak to me?" I asked in a dull voice.

She knelt and offered her hand, smiling gently.

"Because you are not alone," she said.

I looked at her as if she were a mirage. Who cared for a house-elf? I thought.

From that moment on… I knew I would never be the same.

___________

I lived with her in secret for years. First at Hogwarts, hidden among the other kitchen elves, the old books of the library, or behind enchanted curtains. She helped me read. Let me choose what stories to read before bed. A house-elf… making a choice.

When she graduated, she took me with her. We lived in a small enchanted cottage near the Forest of Dean, where she'd gone as a child. There we built a home. She spoke of her dreams—of a world without hatred among wizards.

"Stinky, will you read this with me?" she'd say, showing me books on magical philosophy, history, Muggle tales.

"Stinky?" I once asked, curious at how sweetly she said it.

"That's what I want to call you. It sounds funny… but cute. Unless you don't like it—"

"Stinky likes it! A lot! Stinky has a name!"

She laughed every time I said it.

I slept near her bed, not because she ordered it—but because I wanted to protect her. Her magic was powerful, yes… but also tender. She saw the world in a way that made it less dark. Warmer.

Once, I knelt before her and said:

"Stinky belongs to Miss Elaine! Stinky wants to serve! Stinky swears to obey!"

She stood and looked me in the eyes:

"You don't belong to me. You're not mine, Stinky. You're my friend. If you stay, it will be because you want to—not because I order it or because you owe me."

Those words hurt… because I wanted to belong to her. But they also made me feel whole. Happy to be called a friend.

She never used magic to command me.

She never needed to.

And I stayed. Because I never wanted to be anywhere else.

____________

Years passed. I noticed changes in Miss Elaine. She returned late. Her eyes tired but contemplative, like she had found something. Sometimes her hands trembled.

One night, she came home different. Silent. The food grew cold. She didn't speak until she sat by the window, hugging her knees.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered.

"Is it… the Dark wizard's?" I asked, not daring to say his name.

He had left her, I assumed. The Dark wizard. The one who should not be named. I had seen him only once, from afar. And my magic cowered like a mouse. His presence… was inhuman. Like magic given flesh. A volcano about to erupt. I had heard the Blishwicks speak of mages who could destroy entire cities with a single spell. They were called Archmages.

"Why don't we flee?" I asked one day. "To the mountains, or another country. I will help you raise him."

"I can't run from who I am, Stinky," she said softly. "And I don't want to. I just hope he has my heart. That he knows how to love. That he doesn't repeat this tragic story."

Her belly grew. I could feel the soul's vibration even without touching it. It was intense. Powerful. But different. A child… with two very different bloodlines pulsing within.

Elaine sang every night. She asked me to read aloud. Sometimes she cried in silence. Not out of fear… but love. She knew she wouldn't survive. And yet, she never stopped smiling.

"Stinky…" she said one night, "if something happens to me… take him far away. Somewhere safe."

"No, no, no! Stinky won't let you die! Stinky won't leave Miss Elaine! Stinky will die with you!" I shouted.

"You can't stop it. But you can do something more important. You can give him another story. You can protect him," she said gently, but with conviction.

"No, Miss Elaine! Don't say that! Stinky can't imagine a world without you!"

"But you will. Because it's not about me. It's about him. About Aurelian."

She said his name with such love that the magic in the room shimmered.

"Will you promise me?"

"Stinky swears by his blood, by his magic, by his soul," I whispered, a sacred vow.

Elaine hugged me then.

And I cried, silently, so she wouldn't see.

____________

The night of the birth was hell.

Rain fell in sheets. The cottage creaked. I prepared hot water, towels, potions. But it wasn't enough.

Elaine screamed and writhed. Her wand fell. Magic no longer came at her call.

"Hold on, Miss Elaine! Please!"

I couldn't heal her. Elves don't have that kind of magic. I just held her hand and prayed to the old elven spirits to let her live.

And then… a cry.

A baby. Small. Strong. Pale. With dark eyes like hers.

Elaine held him. Kissed his forehead. Her lips still curled in a soft smile—like she knew she had won. She looked at him one last time, whispering:

"You will be called… Aurelian Riddle… You will carry his name. Not because he deserves it… but because you will transform it."

She sang to him. A whisper. No screaming. No tears.

She just… faded.

Forever.

I fulfilled the promise. I approached Aurelian. He didn't understand what I was—but he looked at me.

And I swear… something inside him knew.

I wrapped him in the enchanted blanket. Embroidered the letters A.R. into the corner. The one she made—the one that only glowed when touched with true love.

I sang the song she taught me once. A Muggle lullaby. About trains and stars.

That night, in the rain, I walked to London. Invisible to Muggle eyes. My magic kept him warm. I slipped through alleys. Hid among statues.

Until I reached the gate.

I placed the basket at the steps of St. Emeric's Orphanage, carefully.

The embroidered note read:

"His name is Aurelian Riddle. Care for him. And give him another story."

But I did not abandon him.

I returned every night.

Invisible. Hidden in shadows, tunnels, rooftops.

Always close. Watching him grow.

____________

Year 1

He was quiet. Observant. He never cried without reason. When caretakers looked after him, he stared at them, as if understanding things no baby should.

One night, I saw him reach toward a feather with his gaze. There was no visible magic. Just a soft energy. An intention.

He wasn't a normal child.

And I… felt proud.

Year 2

He walked early. Not because he wanted to explore, but because it felt like he was in a hurry to learn.

He played in silence. Watched the nuns with suspicion. Always alert.

One night, I saw him try to warm his cup… with his hands alone.

And when he succeeded… he smiled for the first time.

A smile identical to his mother's.

Year 3

He started sneaking out of bed at night. He went to an old ruined chapel within the orphanage grounds. Sat cross-legged on the floor… and meditated.

Meditated! A three-year-old. Breathing in rhythm. Channeling energy.

I watched him from the rafters. Every day. Every failed attempt. Every spark.

He began moving small objects, generating heat… even speaking with animals.

One day, he spoke to a snake. In Parseltongue.

And his voice was clear. Powerful.

At first, I felt fear.

Then… awe.

Year 4

He had a notebook now. He drew runes, diagrams, and ideas. Spoke softly to himself, theorizing new spells. He read donated Muggle books and transformed them into magical experiments.

Once, he almost set a bench on fire. Another time, he calmed a crying child with just a hand on the forehead.

I followed him every night. In silence. From the library rafters or beneath stairwells.

And each night, I thought: Miss Elaine… your son is fulfilling your wish. He will be someone worth remembering.

Year 5

He turned five without a party. One cupcake. One candle. A half-hearted song.

But he wasn't sad.

He climbed to the chapel. Lit a candle. Began chanting in Parseltongue. Visualizing his soul. Molding his energy.

And I saw it.

A blue spark ignited in his palm.

I… cried. As I hadn't cried since Elaine died.

And that night, I made a decision.

___________

Five winters. Five springs. Aurelian was no longer a baby.

He was a child who defied his destiny with every breath.

One night, I waited until he finished training. He sat alone, as always, in the chapel, fingers still faintly glowing with gathered energy.

I approached without a sound.

"Aurelian," I said, voice breaking.

He turned. He didn't look afraid. He looked straight at me.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm… someone who's watched you grow. Since your first day."

"Are you a wizard?" he asked, curiously.

"No, young master. I'm a house-elf. Your mother saved me. And you… you are my promise."

His eyes widened. He stared at me in silence.

"My mother…? You… knew her?" he asked, his tone gentler.

I nodded. My hands trembled.

"I was with her until the end. And ever since… I've been with you. Always."

Aurelian stepped closer. He didn't say a word.

He simply… hugged me.

Small. Delicate. But with a strength in his soul I couldn't explain.

And I, for the first time in years, felt emotions I thought lost to time.

I hugged him back and whispered,

"You are more than him. More than her. You are you, Aurelian. And you are not alone."

I am Stinky.

The elf who learned what friendship meant.

Who chose a promise over freedom.

And though I live in the cracks of the magical world, in forgotten corners…

I know I was part of the beginning of something new.

Because every time that boy lifts his hand… and a spark ignites—

I know Elaine did not die in vain.