Chapter One- The Girl
Far beneath the slowly waning moon, lay a series of cliffs of the most deadly kind. Pointed and ragged they rose up into the night sky, a fortress of gray, stone mass. Caressed half in the shadow of the clouds above, they lay, tense...poised. As if waiting for something.
It was not long before something did indeed appear. A lone figure was to be seen scaling the rock excitedly. A wind stirred his billowing robes and he stopped to run a finger through coarse, brown hair.
Tom Riddle was out of breath and elated. It had been years since he had been here, but it still gave him the greatest feeling of happiness. It was here that everything had begun, or so he thought. Here that he had first learned to harness his powers, before he even knew what they were.
It was here that he had propelled himself up the sheer rock face, using nothing but his will and determination. An excitement, unparalleled to anything else.
Tomorrow, he would be boarding the Hogwarts Express, on his way to another wonderful year at the place where he most loved to be. In the world of muggles, he was an orphan... an outcast. At Hogwarts, he was a god. The heir of Slytherin, the smartest and most good looking boy of his year.
The tang of sea air sent his skin crawling, itching, alive, dying to move. Deep beneath his feet, he knew there lay a lake, as still and calm as the sea was now. Within the pressing chambers of rock, there lay a place known to no one but Tom.
It was here, he had delegated the perfect place to store anything... precious to him. Oh, the time was so near... he could feel it!
Within moments, Tom was descending the steep, rock strewn path onto a deep sandy beach. Here and there clumps of thick, wiry grass stood mournfully, basking in the moonlight.
How wonderful it was to be alone, Tom thought. What coarse sand could not slough away, the absolute quiet would erase. Leaving him with nothing but his own soul, his own thoughts...
His eyes had swept this sandy shoreline so many times before. Glazing over every familiar boulder and crag. Coming to rest at last on the reflection of his dearest moon across the water. That light by which he had gazed into the dark depths of himself.
Lying at the edge of the water lay the tiniest shimmer of light. A sparkling little shell of some kind, caressed in the deep shadow of night. Mentally, he shook himself. Time to go back, Tom. Time to get ready for tomorrow. Tomorrow you're catching the train and going home... One more walk along the beach. One more moment to ponder the things to come, the life to come.
He strode across the sand. Long legs carried him forward in the most elegant of strides. As he neared the water, however, it came to his attention that he was not entirely alone.
That faint glimmer that had first caught his eye now looked to be encompassed by a dark shadow... a person. He pulled his wand from the pocket of his robes.
Walking forward again, slower now, he at last came upon a figure, lying drenched in the sand at his feet. "Lumos!" He whispered. A dazzling white light erupted from the tip of his wand and illuminated something very strange.
A girl lay at his feet. She was oddly tossed across the shore, facing upwards. Her eyes were closed, her wet hair curled in tendrils around her ears. A thin, lacy dress betrayed her as a muggle.
Tom smirked. She appeared to be dead. The remains of some pitiful ship wreck. Bending down, he began to observe the object that had first captured his attention by reflecting the light of the moon.
Lying tangled on her chest, sunken into the dip above her collar bone, lay a necklace. A thin golden chain sported a round, intricately carved oval. Tom could see engraved on the front a beautiful S. Around the borders lay the tiniest of hinges.
Tom's heart beat faster. Little trinkets had always fascinated him. With a firm hand he reached down, hovering over her chest. And then he let his fingers descend upon the locket.
They were greeted by ice cold metal. And then something happened. A surge of fire burst up through Tom's fingers and he felt his heart stop with one last, sickening thud. His finger remained glued to the necklace.
His eyes swerved up to her face and he found, to his horror, that her eyes had opened and become blinding green holes. Where there should have been an iris and pupil there was only an emanating green glow climbing through the night.
Tom pulled hard, throwing his weight back onto his heels, and, with a gut wrenching pull, his fingers broke away.
He lay panting on the sand, his breathing fast and shallow, his head pounding. That locket was cursed. He watched the girl's face as her eyelids slid slowly shut over the shining green orbs.
It was then he chanced his first real look at her. Her hair, even in the dark, was a rich blonde, falling in waves across the sand. She looked slender, fair, and completely unharmed. Although, Tom was sure she was dead. Not a breath of life stirred her.
Crawling towards her he placed shaking fingers on her wrist and pressed into her cold skin. After several moments, he felt the tiniest pounding. The faintest of heart beats. She was alive...
He glanced again at the locket. He wanted it now... oh, how he wanted it. It was powerful, beautiful, and most importantly not his. He deserved it... but how to get it? He pointed his wand at the necklace. "Accio locket!" He tried.
Nothing happened. A tiny wind sighed around his ears, teasing him. Maybe the girl had to take it off... How did he wake her? Maybe she had put on the necklace and become cursed...
His mind began to spin a million different ways. Thinking a million different theories. And one in particular seemed to stay with him. He could take her to Hogwarts and get Dumbledore to care for her... he could take the necklace once it had been removed. Yes, it was too simple. Dumbledore would discard the thing the moment he saw it, he hated dark magic. And then it would be Tom's.
His heart began to pound with the simplicity of it all. Reaching under the girl's back and behind her knees, he plied her up from the sand. Then, slinging her limp frame over his shoulder, he pointed his wand to the sky and, with a faint pop, disappeared.
Miles away in the heart of London there sat an ancient old pub. THE LEAKY CAULDRON the sign read. Night had descended over the quiet street and not a soul was to be seen anywhere nearby.
There was a small noise and, suddenly, standing there, was a young man with dark brown hair. Over his shoulder there was slung a young woman with dripping wet hair.
Tom strode into the dark dinginess of the pub. He crept up the old wooden stairway and down the dark hallway to his room. Pulling a large key from his pocket he opened the door and closed it quickly behind him.
He set the girl dripping onto his bed and stared around uncomfortably. Pointing his wand at her he began to siphon the water from her until she was dry and he pulled the quilt over her. If she wasn't dead now, she might die during the night. How was he supposed to explain a dead body in his room?
Shrugging he sat down at a small desk bathed in moonlight. Sitting before him were his new school books. Tatty, second hand books purchased with the school fund. He yawned and opened a book near him. It was a small, worn, black diary. As Tom scribbled across the page in his elegant, flowing script, the words disappeared into the thick creamy page, leaving bare parchment in their wake.