I decided to tell the tale of Lord Voldemort through his own eyes. This story will detail his life from birth to death. My intention with this story is to try to bring everyone into the mind of Tom Morvolo Riddle, and allow you to look upon the world through his eyes for a change.

Disclaimer: I of course do not own Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, or any other characters from the series. I own copies of the books and movies but that's about it.


For years she watched him. Tom Riddle; tall, hansom, rich. He was everything a girl could ever dream for. The radiant mansion he lived in was just over the hill, hidden by the thicket that surrounded her house. She would spend hours working outside in hopes that she would see him pass by.

It pained her, every time she saw him with another woman. They were refined women, not like her. They always wore new clothes, they had servants to cook and clean for them. But in her own home, Merope was the servant. Her family had squandered their fortune over the generations until all that remained were their two prized heirlooms, and the rickety shack outside of Little Hangleton.

Merope knew that she should have been a refined woman, one who wore extravagant robes, who would call a house-elf to do all her bidding. She was a pureblood, and those were the rights that afforded her. Her father was a constant reminder that was practically royalty among fellow wizards. No, the only thing that identified Merope Gaunt as something remarkable was the heavy gold locket that had hung around her neck for many years.

She knew that it was beneath her to lust after a muggle. Her brother taunted her endlessly. He would sneak into town and cast hexes on the young Riddle man. It pained her to watch it, but she held her tongue. Her father yelled at her enough as it was, constantly pointing out the weak quality of her spells, reminding her that she was very nearly a squib, that she was lucky he even allowed her to touch Slytherin's locket. But Merope thought her brother's antics were tolerable, as long as Morfin never told their father.

One day a man from the Ministry for Magic came to talk to her brother about attacking the muggles in the village, more specifically for an attack on Tom Riddle. She tried to busy herself with making lunch, trying to tune out the sound of her father yelling at the man who introduced himself as Ogden. Ogden had tried to stand up for her when she had dropped a pot in her nerves. She was sure he didn't realize he was only making her situation worse. Despite her fear of what was to come, she pressed her back against the wall beside the window and listened to the conversation.

The man didn't seem to care about their status as purebloods, that of course enraged her father. She could remember clearly how the fear had welled up inside her as her father drug her across the room by the chain on the locket around her neck, and how she was relieved to be released, wanting nothing more than to get away from her father and brother.

Suddenly there was a clopping, jangling sound coming in through the window. Merope felt her stomach turn cold and drop to her knees. She stood, momentarily paralyzed by fear before lifting her head. There was a burning in the corner of her eyes, he was with another woman, she could hear the voice talking about their hovel of a home. But Merope bit back her tears, desperate to keep her father from suspecting anything.

Morfin must have been in a bad mood. As Merope allowed herself to breath while the horses hooves became more and more faint, she heard her brother hiss something that caused her heart to stop.

"'Darling'," he had hissed at her, "'darling', he called her. So he wouldn't have you anyway."

She prayed her father hadn't heard, but Merope never had such luck.

"She likes looking at that muggle," Morfin continued, "Always in the garden when he passes, peering though the hedge at him."

She burned with fear and anger. She thought she had kept her actions hidden.

Her father had closed his hands around her throat before she knew it, she knew her eyes were pleading for Ogden to help her, and he obliged, only to be chased from the property by her brother.

Her father strangled her, choked her, slapped her. She fell to the ground and he tortured her with the Cruciatus curse. It felt like hours before the ministry returned to save her. She knew her father loved her, that he wanted what was best for her.

With her father and brother gone, both imprisoned in Azkaban and out of the way, she felt free for the first time in her life. Her magic seemed to flow more easily, fear no longer had a constant grip on her.

Merope spent weeks trying to wave to Riddle, to talk to him. It still broke her heart that he didn't seem inclined to return her heartfelt affection, but he was genial. Once she told him Marvolo and Morfin were gone, he was even inclined to stop for brief chats on cool afternoons.

At long last Merope could deal no longer. She knew that she couldn't live without him, she had to do something. She brewed the strongest love potion she was able, weary that if something went wrong he might end up hurt. It was on a hot summer afternoon that he rode by her house again. She tried to strike up a conversation, but he insisted that he was in a hurry.

"At least have a drink before you go," she insisted. "It's such a hot day, and you look a bit peaked."

Tom smiled and nodded. Merope bounded off toward the house, still not trusting that he wouldn't leave while she went to fetch him some water. When she returned, the love potion had already been added, and she handed the glass over to him with a small curtsy.

She took a few moments to appreciate his form as he drained the glass of water. It took a moment to take effect, and then he turned to her.

"Why don't you come with me for a ride?"

"Really?"

"Yes."

Joy welled up inside her as she jumped up into the seat beside him.

Over the next few months Merope found herself happier than she had ever been in her life. Tom had insisted on having a wedding the very day she jumped into the carriage. She continued to add a drop of love potion here and there to his drinks.

When she realized that she was pregnant, she knew he really loved her too, after all they had been happily married for nearly a year. The love potion would no longer be needed. She would tell him about the baby and he would sweep her into his arms.

But the scene did not go at all how she had planned. He asked how she had gotten him to agree to the wedding, the consummation, any of it. And Merope had confessed that she was a witch. The disgusted look on her face had broken her heart, and he fled from the house without another word to her.

She had been left with nothing, she was pregnant, she needed to take care of her baby. She managed to make it for a while off of the food left in the house. Then she traveled to London where she made do begging for a while. Finally, desperation struck her. She was starving, her clothes were in tattered rags and the cold broke through making her spend endless nights shivering in the alleys she slept in.

Merope made her way to Borgin and Burke's to sell the only thing of value she had ever possessed. Her believe that she couldn't live without Tom was proving true, she knew she wouldn't live long after her child was born. She even knew that the locket was worth a great deal, but she just needed food and a coat. Burke was a stingy man, but Merope took the ten galleons he offered without complaint.

It was New Year's Eve when she made her way to an orphanage. Merope knocked on the door and collapsed into the arms of the woman who opened it. The labor pains were intense. The woman called Mrs. Cole gave her a bed to lay in, and tended to her. Merope was hardly able to speak, and drifted in and out of consciousness. She could hear Mrs. Cole going on, telling her she was having trouble breathing because of pneumonia.

The woman seemed to go on and on, but Merope couldn't care less what she had to say, until she announced that the baby was a boy.

"I hope he looks like his father," she murmured softly.

"What would you like to name him?"

"Tom. Tom was his father's name. Marvolo was mine. Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Mrs. Cole took the baby away to clean him up and wrap him in a towel. Merope lay in the bed, gasping for air and shaking with cold. She knew that a simple spell could save her, but it was magic that had driven Tom away from her, she swore when he left she would never use magic again, she had even snapped her own wand and thrown it into some bushes.

Merope closed her eyes, forming within her mind a picture of Tom Riddle, of herself, and of her son; the family they could have been. She let out a last shuddering breath and was gone.

When Mrs. Cole retuned she found the girl dead. It wasn't a surprise really. She had come to an orphanage to give birth, she was clearly poor, starving, and sick. Nevertheless, her heart ached for the child in her arms, the child who would never know a mother's touch.


I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Please leave reviews if you read it. I find it very hard to keep motivated to write and update with any sort of frequency unless I know that people are enjoying the story. Questions, comments, and suggestions are always welcome.