Riddle Murders
Tom Riddle stares at the beautiful manor—a large mansion like house with large windows surrounded by perfectly manicured garden. Heart beating and holding the wand which he managed to steal from his uncle, he walks towards the manor, his footsteps touching the gravel of the path, making a crunching sound. Finally he stands in front of the large oak door and takes a deep breath.
"Alohomora," he mutters.
The door squeaks open and Riddle steps inside. He stares around the house and mutters "Lumos," illuminating the room. A large chandelier hung in the ceiling, framed pictures of his ancestors hung on the wall. A wooden staircase leads to the first floor of the manor. Riddle hears voices on the first floor and slowly he climbs up to the first floor.
He slows down his pace, listening into the conversation. He stops in front of a partially closed door, light coming out of the room.
"Germans are going to attack us, do you think?" an elderly woman's voice echoed in the room. "Do you think we will win the war?"
"Germans are losing," another voice replied. "Americans have got involved in the war so the Germans have no chance of winning,"
"But London is not safe Father," another voice boomed in. Riddle's heart skipped a beat when he recognized that the voice belonged to his father. "That's why I brought Cecilia and our children here,"
Riddle freezes. This man, his filthy father has left his mother just because she was a witch and has started his own family. He clenches his fists, his grip tightening on his uncle's wand as he listens to the conversation.
"Cecilia is expecting another baby," the elderly woman replied in a soft voice, changing the topic.
He can feel his father, smiling. "I hope this time it's going to be a boy," he said in a hopeful voice.
Riddle cannot take this drama anymore and suddenly he barges into the room.
The three of them stares at the teenage boy in horror. They stare at this tall pale handsome teenage boy, who bore strong resemblance to his own father.
"T-Tom…" the elderly woman with snow white hair and slightly wrinkled face stammered, staring at Riddle. "He….he looks just like you,"
"Who are you?" the younger one demanded, his eyes on him although his face is contorted with shock.
Riddle smirks at his father. "I am your son…the one you left behind,"
"Oh my God," the elderly woman sits on the chair heavily.
"No, it's not possible…that woman hoodwinked me!" the younger one shouted. "I have nothing to do with this boy!"
"But this boy looks just like you!" the elderly man, with salt and pepper colored hair and a moustache replied.
The younger man looks at Riddle. His father, who must be now in his thirties with the same jet black hair, the same facial features and same dark eyes stares at him.
"You left me and my mother!" Riddle hissed at his father, accusing him. "You killed my mother! She died because of you!"
"I didn't kill anyone! She hoodwinked me! She lied to me!" his father shouted back. "And you are not my son!"
"Tom…" the elderly woman chimed in. "Tom…"
"I don't care, " his father continued, ignoring his mother. "You are no son of mine! Now just get lost and leave us alone! I don't want to see your face again!"
Riddle gripped the wand harder. He pointed the wand at his father who stares at it.
"What are you going to do with that wood stick? Kill me huh?" his father sneered at him, laughing uneasily.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Riddle yells.
A jet of green light flashed out of the wand and hit his father on the chest. His father falls down on the ground, his eyes wide open, a shocked look on his face, his arms widespread.
"Tom!" both his grandparents screamed. The elderly woman sits next to her son but immediately gets up and backs away as Riddle came close to them. The elderly man tried to shield the woman from him.
"Please leave us alone," the man pleaded him. "Please don't punish us…"
"You could have done something," Riddle whispered.
"We know nothing about you," the woman said softly. "If we have known…"
"I spent my entire life in the orphanage, being ridiculed, being bullied…being treated badly…" Riddle replied, his voice shaking. "All because of this man!"
"Son…" the man tried to reason him.
"Avada Kedavra," Riddle said and his grandparents fell dead on the ground.
Tom Riddle stares at the dead bodies lying on the floor. He then walks towards his dead father's body and smirks.
"You never thought I will come to you…" he said and gave a manic laugh that echoed in the empty house. Without another glance, he climbs down the stairs and leaves the manor. He has accomplished his task…he has gotten rid of his filthy father and his grandparents at once.
His father has never wanted him. And Riddle hate his father and his hatred of his common filthy Muggle father has harbored hatred towards the other Muggles and Muggle borns.
He looks at the rundown shack where his uncle lives. He smirks as he walks back to the shack. Time to frame his uncle for the murders.