Tom Riddle's Turning
Written by slygrff24
I, the authoress, own nothing. Not Harry Potter, not Tom Riddle. For no profit is being made. All that is recognizable, is to which I do not own.
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Tom Riddle was a bad man. A very, very bad man. This he knew, and yet on the brink of greatness he couldn't find it in himself to care. He had gone farther than any other wizard in his attempts of immortality, in his race to beat out the best and brightest, the past and future the witches and wizards' alike who strived for world power. His very name caused fear in a crowded room, so much so that none dare speak it. Grendlewald the darkest wizard of his time had nothing on Tom. No, their was only one wizard who brought any resemblance of fear to this man of a wizard and that was Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
XOx
The night lay cold in it's depths, All Hollows Eve sent a foreboding chill down his very spine causing a sensation like no other. He should not be here. He should not of chose today of all days to unleash his wrath upon a mere boy of prophecy. Yet he was a sensible wizard in his own eyes, if only but sensible and evil. Then sensible he was. Divination and prophecy, fortune telling and clairvoyance, he couldn't say that someone such as himself believed in such things, but he was unwilling to risk his own future on it; his own kingdom of tyranny, his own kingdom of fear. So this night, a night in which souls were able to return to earth his dark as sky cloak clasped tightly over his neck, his wand at the ready, and his footsteps with purpose and speed. Tonight he would murder a child, not just that, a baby.
He could not stop now, if anyone were to ask, though no one dare try, he couldn't stop, not now not ever. He could feel the end nearing, yet he walked on calling upon the doom that would serve as a twisted punishment for his many misdeeds. As gone as he was, and make no mistake he was very much gone, he knew what was happening to his body, to his magic, to his very essence of life. His body mutated beyond recognition, a small price for power he would tell himself. His magic grew dark unable to produce any light magic, he wouldn't need it he told himself. His very essence of life grew thin and stretched, he was something more than mere mortal, he told himself. With one last stray thought, he thought of his humanity. His humanity was almost faded. For this last stray thought, could he tell himself nothing . He wanted power, glory, fame, and fortune. He wanted every man, woman, and child to bow at his feet. Perhaps this one last price was to high? For this to fade was like a single blade through his cold, dark, barley beating heart. His humanity was something he never wished to lose. It made him powerful as a wizard who could accomplish such things, but to know one day a monster would stand in his place was too much, much too very much. All traces of Tom Riddle would disappear in Lord Voldemort and although he was a very, very bad man, for now he was still a man, and that made all the difference.
Fin
A/N ~ I was thinking of making this a story. I have a well thought out sort of circumstance. Perhaps I shall, we shall see.
Forever written~ (yes that's mine and it's copy written. Steal it and I'll bite you!)
slygryff
