Disclaimer: Obviously I don’t own Harry Potter. It belongs to J.K. Rowling. I’m simply playing around with her creation. Besides I doubt Harry would be such a bitch if I owned the Harry Potter universe.
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at fan fiction. It would be much worse if it weren’t for my fantastic betas Mors (known on here as deepthoughtz), Kolskit and Andromalius (known on here as Kasyapa). Without Andromalius’ help, I doubt you would be seeing this.
-----------------------
It is consternating, how few people knew the name that I had retained through my youth, and much of my adulthood, Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was a name known to a circle with a very short radius – just as I desired. It was one of the hallmarks of Dark Lords, that what they desired often became reality.
For the mantle of Dark Lord was a title that I had come to relish. A mere handful of the most powerful, ambitious, and cunning wizards that ever lived had claimed the title, and now it had fallen to me to stand among such distinguished company such as Grindelwald, my predecessor, though I was better than each and every of them, having achieved the one goal they all lusted after; immortality. However, it has never weighed as heavily upon my shoulders as it did now after I hear part of this damned prophecy. My servant Severus Snape had been ejected rather forcibly from whatever pub he frequented only midway through its recitation.
Oh the fallacies of fate. Upon hearing a part of this prophecy, I had concentrated all efforts towards eliminating the child who possessed the power to vanquish me. There only two couples who had thrice defied me, the Longbottoms and the Potters and they both fit the criteria of the prophecy. I discovered it could be either child, as both Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom were born as the seventh month died.
The choice I made was not by own.
A secret held even closer to my chest than the very name I bore for years involved Lily Potter. Not many knew of the fact that I had once desired an heir. Someone I could trust implicitly without the fear of them turning their back on me for their own gains. I had charmed many women and more than one was willing to bear my heir, but one in particular had taken my interest. Her name had been Acacia Romanov, proud daughter of Grindelwald's faithful right hand witch. There were a few reasons she caught my attention; not least among them was her strength of will and her magic, but she was also possessed extraordinary personal beauty with her dark-red hair and emerald eyes.
After Grindelwald's fall at the hands of Dumbledore and her mother's subsequent death, Acacia Romanov had been forced to flee Bulgaria, from those who had suffered at the hands of Grindelwald. They wanted their revenge on the daughter of Grindelwald's most loyal and prized follower. She had come to England where Grindelwald hadn't made much of a mark. Choosing Knockturn Alley to hide due to its shady reputation and its cheap nature. Its reputation preceded it even overseas.
I first encountered her when I was employed at Borgin & Burkes. She appeared to be just as seedy as numerous other hags, who frequented Knockturn Alley. However, a look closer through means of Legilimency, an art that allowed one to peer into an unguarded mind and realize their most guarded secrets or their greatest fear. I learned of her heritagem and the truth that she was hiding from those out for her blood. I didn't confront her about it, but continued observing her. She had gained my attention, because of her wits and resourcefulness, but I would be lying if I didn’t confess her form, the one I had seen, played a part as well. I tried many of my usual methods at charming women, but none worked on her.
It became a matter of my pride, and I vowed to myself that Acacia Romanov would be the one who bore my heir. I didn't act against her in any way though I did form somewhat of a friendship with her. I enjoyed her cynical nature, and sense of humor, because they were similar to my own. Being her friend also allowed me to keep a close watch on her, and I made sure no other male would get near Acacia. Eight months had passed without any incident when a man from Bulgaria showed in up in Knockturn Alley enquiring about Acacia Romanov. The man was Todor Ditschec, one of the most influential men in Bulgaria. His reason to come after Acacia was to avenge the death of his firstborn son. Todor's son, Nikolai Ditshec, was killed by Acacia's mother.
Todor found about Acacia being in England from one of the various thieves of Knockturn Alley. What made this particular thief special was his assistance to Acacia in finding a a place to conceal herself. The thief was rewarded handsomely for informing Todor of Acacia’s whereabouts, but it had been for naught, because I killed him as soon as I learned of what he had done. I took the money from the dead thief and went to find Acacia. When I found her she was dueling with Todor and some of his lackeys, but she was slowly being beaten back by the numbers against her. Together we killed most of the men, but regrettably Todor and two of his companions were able to flee after vowing to kill Acacia.
I volunteered to protect her in return for something, and seized the opportunity presented to me. I made an offer, and she readily agreed. She would be my consort, and bear my heir. I would provide her with shelter and money until the birth of my heir. I had no intention of committing myself to the woman, because I was ready to make my bid at becoming the darkest of Dark Lords. Maybe: She realized my intentions, but seemed to share my indifference.
When I learned the child was going to be a female I was disappointed. As a Dark Lord I would not have much use for a female heir, given that the magical world still clung to its patriarchal system. The thought of killing them both crossed my mind, but I ultimately couldn't shed my own blood. Thus I gave Acacia enough funds for her to flee with her child. The Romanov family was a respectable and old pureblood family that still possessed significant wealth before Grindewald's rise to power, but much of their fortune had been squandered in Grindelwald's campaign. The Romanov coffers had been emptied to an extent where their sole heir had to ask for money to flee. Acacia had fled to the muggle world and from what I had learned she had lived out the rest of her life as a muggle.
Years later Lily Potter appeared to fight against me. To say I was astonished would perchance be a stupendous understatement. Fighting for the Order Of Phoenix was a woman who resembled Acacia Romanov, but with some of my own features. The daughter I had abandoned many years ago had come back but the chances of a family union were sparse. I did however turn my attention towards assembling knowledge I could gain of her. What I found left me somewhat frustrated. She had married James Potter, a man who had been a thorn in my side for some time, using the Potter holdings and contacts against me. I had offered James Potter the chance join my ranks before this, hearing about his talents from my sources inside Hogwarts. I had also offered Sirius Black the chance to join my ranks too. I assumed due to his family he would jump at the chance to join me, and knowing that Black and Potter were inseparable I thought I would gain two new talented followers.
It was one of the few occasions when I was wrong. They refused. I, unwilling to suffer this embarrassment, dispatched a few of the younger recruits against them to punish the two for their insolence, but the two masterfully defeated six of my Death Eaters.
A Potter had defied me for the first time, but certainly not the last.
The Blacks had their own way of punishing their heir's rebellion. They had disowned their firstborn son and immediately offered their younger son Regulus Black to my service in reparation.
The next time the Order met my Death Eaters in battle; I sought out the Potters and offered them the chance to join me once more. The Potters had refused my generous offer, thus each defying me once more. I did not inform Lily of my relationship with her. The only people who knew were me and Acacia Romanov and apparently Acacia had taken the secret to her grave. After the Potters had refused my generous offer I decided a little revenge was in order.
I decided to take away the things that were precious to James starting with his family's ancient dwelling. I still to this day remember the difficulty I had locating their ancestral home, but like all things obstacles are never quite sufficient when thrown in my way. I was surprised with the warding around the manor, for it was better warded than Malfoy Manor which was the most guarded manor I knew. I hired some of the best curse breakers and it had taken me an entire day to break through the wards surrounding the manor, but when the wards fell I had personally razed the once beautiful Manor to the ground, and sowed the earth it had once stood upon with salt in a gesture of hatred.
I enjoyed it thoroughly. Defiance was not without a price, after all.
Though I still didn't learn anything about the Potter ancestry for the place had been completely devoid when I entered it. The Potters had never flaunted their wealth, but most knew it was vast. The Potters were one of the most respected pure-blood families in existence. Since I didn't know the extent of the Potter fortune, learning that the Potters were a line descended from the line of Gryffindor was beyond my reach for now. After the razing of his ancestral Manor James Potter had become a larger thorn in my side than before. Potter along with Sirius Black had captured 12 Death Eaters in retaliation and destroyed several of the Death Eater hideouts. Auror James Potter had been feared by many of my younger Death Eaters and even by my Inner Circle, though they hid it well.
Then I met Wormtail, the man was a pathetic excuse for a wizard, but not without his uses. He was weak and insecure in his belief that his friends were better than him, one that I whole-heartedly agreed with. Peter always tried to hide behind the most powerful wizard around. Since I had taken the mantle of the most powerful wizard Peter Pettigrew wanted to get into my good graces. I accepted Peter Pettigrew, because I realized the man could be a spy in the Order for me. It was one of the better moves I had made because little weak Peter had become a wealth of information about the Order Of Phoenix. I learned many of the Orders' plans before the Order could even put them into effect. It surprised me that Peter had lasted this long as my spy in the Order. I thought someone might have suspected him by now, because Peter Pettigrew did not possess an ounce of cunning inside him. Now that I had heard part of the prophecy, and identified my targets which were the Potters, Peter Pettigrew would prove his worth once again. I extracted every bit of information about the Potters from Pettigrew. I knew their weaknesses and their strengths. I knew the Potters perhaps better than they knew themselves.
Wormtail was also among the handful who was privy to the hiding place of the Potters once they went into hiding. The Potters were going to hide under the Fidelius Charm and I assumed Dumbledore was going to be the Secret-Keeper, but Wormtail informed me the Potters were going to choose Black instead. Lily Potter refused to let Dumbledore become the Potter's Secret-Keeper. I felt a strange surge of pride well inside me.
My daughter had seen through the mask that Dumbledore presented to the world . She recognized that if she let Dumbledore become their Secret Keeper he would try to make the Potter child his weapon, the old man would only let people who would mold the boy onto the right path near him. Even if I felt pride for my daughter's decision I realized I would have to find a way to turn the situation to my favor. I expected to kill Black because I knew Black wouldn't betray the Potters no matter how much torture I inflicted upon him.
The Imperius Curse and Veritaserum were useless because the Secret-Keeper would have to willingly divulge the information. Even Legilimency did not work where the Fidelius Charm's secret was concerned. The only way for the secret of the Fidelius Charm to become weaker was the death of the Secret-Keeper. With Black's death the secret of the Fidelus Charm would become dilated and Wormtail would be able to divulge the secret.
I also tried a different plan; one that would ease my work. I knew from Wormtail's information about the Potters that they were friends with a werewolf named Remus Lupin. With the Order already suspecting a traitor in their midst, I instructed Wormtail to point towards the werewolf. Peter played his part well, many in the Order now suspected that Lupin was the spy because of his lycanthropy even more important then this, though, was that Sirius Black now suspected his childhood friend. A few days later Peter Pettigrew had informed me that the Potter's were switching their Secret-Keeper to him at the last moment so everyone (especially Lupin) would be fooled. After all, no one expected weak little Peter to be the Secret-Keeper. It was a fool-proof plan except for the little fact that Peter Pettigrew served me. I promised Peter when I killed the Potters I would reward him and Peter would not have to have to play the role of the spy anymore.
I waited an entire week before I attacked the Potters. During that ‘grace period’, chaos reigned over the Wizarding World. Each day I substituted many a deaths for the wait I had to endure to finish the Potters. For the attack on the Potters would be on October 31st, Halloween. It was symbolic and somehow appropriate for what I was about to do.
When I first entered, I erected Anti-Apparition and Portkey wards so no one could escape. As I stepped into the house I met a wandless James Potter. My son-in-law, though he didn’t know it, and never would. I disposed of James Potter quickly, which was rather unfortunate as I had actually looked forward to the challenge of dueling the man who had opposed me for so long. I followed the woman, desperately trying to escape with her child, and as I looked at her, for the first time I felt hesitancy in killing someone. Never had I been in such a conundrum, to kill or not to kill, my answer to that had always been the former. Then why did I feel hesitancy in killing Lily Potter? Was this what Dumbledore referred to whenever he tried to give me the lecture of love being the greatest power? I ended the traitorous straying of my thoughts, and raised my wand. I granted Lily Potter the chance to live though.
As the woman finally saw me she said, "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry," and I laughed, but it was a shrill laugh. I had often heard that fate was cruel and as I looked at the woman in front of me, I realized just how true that saying was because the only thing my daughter had ever wanted from me, I couldn't grant her. At that moment I realized what having a child was like and I ruthlessly crushed that feeling for it was a feeling of weakness that I could not afford to indulge in. I had too much work to accomplish, and I purged that anguish from my mind.
"Stand aside you silly girl....stand aside now." I whispered quietly, menacingly. I knew the child had to die, but I would give my daughter the chance to live.
"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead," the woman asked hysterically, "Not Harry! Please...have mercy...have mercy..." she pleaded now. I decided I would kill her now, satisfied in knowing I had at least given her the chance to live. I raised my wand and uttered the two words that would end my daughter’s life, and mark her son with a protection not even I could break. With merely two words my daughter was dead, by my own hand.
To think that a Potter would still defy me, even after I committed the unthinkable…
As I stepped past the now lifeless body of my daughter, I saw the boy for the first time. He had the same eyes as his mother and grandmother, yet I didn't give it a second thought. When I had first heard the prophecy, I thought I would mark the boy's death by creating my 6th horcrux, but as I saw the dead body of my own daughter I decided against it. It would be as a last favor to my daughter that I would not make the boy's corpse a horcrux. That was as far as my pity for the boy would go. He would have to die even if he was my grandson. My last thought before I raised my wand to perform the killing curse, was the irony that the male heir I always wanted would be the one with the power to defeat me. "Avada Kedavra." I uttered the fatal words in a loud, clear voice, and then I watched in morbid curiosity as something I thought impossible happened. Pain beyond anything I had ever imagined filled me as the curse actually reflected off the boy and struck me instead. I finally realized the folly of my plan.
I fled from the house that night and I waited for one of my loyal followers to come and free me from this terrible form. Truthfully, I had no real idea what I was. I was not a spirit I wasn't even a ghost. I fled to Albania, where I had found the Diadem Of Ravenclaw many years ago. I waited deep within the forests, where the sunlight could not pierce the canopy of the trees. For ten, maddening years I waited, but to no avail. Then, a traveling hopeful by the name of Quirinus Quirrell came across me. Quirrell was a vainglorious fool with dreams of grandeur and it quickly became apparent that, at long last, something was starting to go right. Quirrell was swayed easily into helping me by promises of great rewards and riches. I accompanied Quirrell back to England to search for a way to get the fabled Sorcerer's Stone. The stone gave it's user immortality and boundless gold. I knew after my defeat at the hands of Potter that Dumbledore would want the stone protected.
The year culminated towards my encountering Harry Potter. I felt emptiness instead of hatred as I stared from the back of Quirrell’s head at the frightened Gryffindor that refused to be cowed. I offered him the chance to join me, but it was a token effort. I instinctively recognized that now was not the time. He was a mere first-year just introduced to magic, and I, his grandfather, was imbedded in the back of his traitorous professor’s head. A parasite.
No, it wasn’t the time.
The next year was the worst for me. I continued researching ways to gain a corporeal form, but for every ritual I needed someone to assist me. My hope began to fail when the next year fared no better for me then the last. Then, one evening, a rat suddenly approached me and transformed, to my astonishment, into Wormtail who went babbling on and on about his loyalty to me. Employing a meager amount of Legilimency, all that I could manage in my current state, I discovered the little rat had run from those he once called friends. Black had escaped Azkaban, something that was thought to be impossible, and revealed Wormtail's dirty little secret to Potter, but the sniveling traitor had escaped before he could be sent to Azkaban and ran to me once more. The only thing that saved him from horrendous punishment was the fact he brought along the most important possession I ever owned.
Yew, 13 1/2 inches long, the core consisting of a single phoenix feather given by Dumbledore's pet phoenix. It was my wand ...
My wand. It seemed only yesterday I acquired it from Ollivander.
I made my way over to Ollivander's Wand Shop, having already picked up all of the books and potions supplies required for a First year. Most of them were second hand, to my chagrin, but if the orphanage had taught me anything, it was that gratitude was given where it was due.
This was the purchase I looked forward to the most. There was something that was my own, something no one shared with me. It would be the possession that I would most jealously guard as a dragon would its most prized gemstone. The shop had a sign with peeling gold letters reading "Ollivander's" over the door. It also informed me that the shop was founded in 382 B.C., denoting it as a lasting legacy that predated even the birth of Jesus Christ, the legacy demanded respect.
I enter, and survey the small dingy shop with something akin to surprise – an establishment of such age in that condition? These thoughts were swept away by the piercing, silver eyes of the man who greeted me,
"Good Afternoon, Sir. Welcome to Ollivanders, the finest wand makers in Europe. What is your name?"
To me, it is the million pound, or as wizards call them galleons, question. What is my name? The sound of it stung for I dearly wished that my mother, whoever she was, had named me something else. Something less… normal.
None of that reaches my face.
"Tom Riddle" I say pleasantly.
"Well then, Mr. Riddle, let's get you measured up. Now, which is your wand arm?" He procures a tape measure. I eye it curiously.
"I'm ambidextrous, Mr. Ollivander." Ollivander peered down at me, but merely smiled.
"Is there something wrong, sir?" I ask. Ollivander looks thoughtful but answers my question nevertheless.
"It is an unusual ability, but not unheard of. According to studies by the Unspeakables made available to us wand-wrights, there are more Muggles with that trait than wizards. However, the ratio between them and the respective entire populations are the same – exactly the same. One out of a hundred thousand. Curious is it not?" He looks directly at me. "Herpo The Foul and Morgana Le Fay were but two of them."
If possible my eagerness for buying a wand increases even more. If I'm destined to be powerful, then my wand must be all the more special. Distinctive.
As if sensing my excitement, Ollivander instructs me to extend my right arm. He also informs me, "Every Ollivander's wand has a core of a Powerful magical substance, Mr. Riddle. We use unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand. However, the most important thing is that the wand chooses the wizard, Mr.Riddle."
"Holly, 12 1/2 inches, and Unicorn Hair, give it a swish, my boy. It’s the most traditional combination among the Light families."
I obey, but the reaction is a violent one. I knock more than a few wands down from their rightful shelves. Ollivander gives me a suspicious look before stalking off in search of more wands. So I began the tedious task of trying wand after wand, but none seem to suit me. However, my annoyance is not noticed. Ollivander looks more gleeful with each failed attempt.
Finally there is one wand left untouched. Ollivander informs me that the wand is made of Yew, 13 1/2 inches long, and that the core is that of a phoenix feather. I pick the wand up and swish it, green and silver sparks quickly illuminating the shop. The feeling of power that I feel from it is intoxicating. If Ollivander wasn't present I would have basked in its glory for longer, but the eccentric man interrupts me.
"Mr.Riddle that wand is one of the most unusual combinations I have ever crafted. It was built for the Dark Arts – or the Defense against them."
Of course, I think. As if a wand that wasn't powerful would suit me.
Ollivander, however, continues, "Mr.Riddle, you should remember with great power comes great responsibility. I think it would be best if you remember that," he tells me with a somewhat stern expression.
I coldly, but with a sociable amount of politeness, ask the eccentric wand-maker how much I would have to pay. My eyebrows shoot up a fraction of an inch when he informs me that the price is five galleons. I ignore the fact that, even though it was a paltry sum, I could hardly afford to pay a higher price. I stare at him in disbelief, and then I nod. I pay the man and leave, indignant at his presumptuous manner in trying to impose a principle upon me.
I resolve that I would only allow the truly great in my mind to influence me, so that I would become truly great myself.
As I merely touch the wand, I feel a lost part of me return. I felt better than I had in years. I could perform spells but I could by no means travel by myself. I would have to rely on Wormtail to be somewhat competent until my rebirth.
A few weeks after his initial return, Wormtail displayed a presence of mind that I thought impossible from the man. He brought along a witch by the name of Bertha Jorkins, who Wormtail had somehow subdued. I learned many things from Bertha Jorkins, such as the Tri-Wizard Tournament taking place at Hogwarts this year. However, the most intriguing thing I learned from her was that there was a loyal servant of his who would do anything to get me back, but the servant couldn't escape the shackles placed upon him. She couldn't say the name of my loyal servant or how he was chained except he wasn't in Azkaban.
There was a powerful Memory Charm placed upon her, however the means I employed to break through the Memory Charm broke her mind, and effectively ended her usefulness to me. I learned from Bertha Jorkins that Barty Crouch Jr was still out there waiting for a chance to serve me again. Barty would soon get his wish fulfilled, and it would require every ounce of cunning the man possessed.
I constructed a plan based on the information I acquired from Jorkins that would not only return me to a corporeal form, but render the bane of my existence, Harry Potter, completely helpless. The plan would also allow me to overcome the protection that the boy's mother had left for him. In the two years following my failure at gaining the Sorcerer's Stone, my view on Harry Potter had changed. In front of the mirror I had discovered my grandson, and it was far from what I expected. Instead of the cunning, resourceful, and determined individual I had expected, I discovered a foolish, courageous and chivalrous Gryffindor. It was obvious he was a so called Golden Boy Gryffindor. If Potter had decided to choose that as his destiny then I would be more than happy to provide him with a noble death worthy of a Gryffindor.
The plan had tried my patience, but it had been ultimately been successful. June, 24th, 1995, after 13 years of existence as a spectre, I had finally regained a body, but my victory had still been incomplete. I thought I would finally kill the one who was capable of destroying me, but it seemed fate was determined to keep the boy alive. This time though I could not chalk it up to fate, Harry Potter had not only escaped me, but a dozen of my followers. The boy had thrown off my Imperius, a feat unheard of.
Above all else, my own defeat in a test of pure willpower against the boy had floored me.
Willpower is constantly changing, and as the stream of light connected our unwilling wands, I thoughtfully thwarted the boy’s attempt to force that bead into my wand as I considered what to do, applying just enough Will to maintain a stalemate. The boy’s efforts, fueled by desperation though it was, impressed me. His absolute determination to survive, at any cost, was intoxicating, and I knew that his spirit was a kindred one.
Almost.
His admirable determination to survive was too narrow-minded, too dogmatic. He sought nothing less than to inflict a defeat in order to escape. There was no cunning involved.
More than wands were connected by the Priori Incantatum. For the first time I understood. How he had been shaped, how he had been devoted to the Light unknowingly through his heritage, just as I had been to mine.
I knew then. His heritage was of the Potters, and through his mother, the blood of Slytherin flowed.
It was that heritage that would unravel and be known to Harry as the truth.
Then, the connection broke, and I watched my grandson, my last remaining relative slip through my fingers. The last of the spells fizzled, and the Death Eaters stared at me in dread. I said nothing, and Apparated to a cave, where I meditated amidst the crashing of the ocean waves.
After the boy's escape, the lesson that I had stubbornly refused to learn registered. I would not act against the boy until I learned the full contents of the prophecy.
This brings me here, the night of December 18, soon to be the morning of December, 19, 1995.
I would not suffer a Potter to defy me again.