From Light to Dark: Tom Riddle's Story
Thunder crashed outside, and the woman screamed.
"Easy, now," said the mid-wife. "You're almost done." And sure enough, the next bolt of lightning illuminated the newborn baby. Thunder crashed and the baby began to cry.
"Quiet, now," said the baby's mother. "You're safe now." She rocked the baby until he fell asleep in her arms.
"What are you going to name the baby, miss?" asked the mid-wife.
"I think I'll name him Tom, after his father, and Marvolo after his grandfather," she said. "Tom Marvolo Riddle. I like the sound of it."
There was another flash of lightning, and the baby began to cry. The mid-wife picked him up and rocked him gently, but he did not stop. "Shhh, quiet now. You're mother needs rest, don't you, miss?" She was addressing the mother, but she was silent. "Miss?" she repeated. Still no answer. The mid-wife put baby Tom into the cradle and peered closely at the mother. She reached out to shake the woman's shoulder to wake her. But the arm she touched was cold.
The mid-wife stepped back in horror. "She's dead."
"His mother died in childbirth."
"And his father?"
"Ran out on the family even before the child was born. Found out she was-" The mid-wife paused and looked around cautiously. "A witch."
The woman behind the desk gasped. "No!"
"Yes!" the mid-wife said. "Good thing that baby doesn't 'ave any powers, or I'd have drowned 'im in the river!"
"In that case, we'll take him," said the woman behind the desk. She looked into the basket that held the sleeping infant. "Welcome to Brickstone's Orphanage, Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Tom got used to the orphanage. After all, it was the only home he had ever known. The food came in small portions and tasted horrible. The beds were lumpy and the blankets were old and worn. In the summer, it was too hot. In the winter, it was too cold. There were no toys to play with. The only thing Tom really enjoyed at Brickstone's were the lessons. They had lessons all day everyday, except on Sunday, when they prayed. Tom found that he was very smart. He got good marks on all his papers, and did well on all his tests.
Tom knew his mother was a witch because the Headmaster told him so. He knew he had been named Tom after his father, who had abandoned him before he was even born, and Marvolo after his grandfather.
But he did not know why he was different. Maybe because of the magic blood in him, or maybe it was because he sometimes had a bad temper. But all the same, he could tell he was different somehow. He never wanted to talk to the other orphans. He didn't like to play with them or sit near them in class. He just liked being alone.
Until one day… All the orphans were sitting at the table, eating breakfast, when the Headmaster rapped on the table. Everyone at Brickstone's knew this was an order to be quiet. They all stopped talking and put down their spoons full of oatmeal. They looked at the Headmaster.
"Children, today we have someone new at Brickstone's. Please make her feel welcome." She pointed to a very small girl next to her. "Now sit down," she said to the little girl.
The girl walked quietly over to an empty seat and the dining room erupted in sound again.
That's cruel,
though Tom. They can do that to me, but not to her. She looks scared. Maybe I should talk to her. Tom looked at the girl, who had taken a seat next to him. He didn't usually like talking, but this girl looked like she didn't have a friend in the world. Tom smiled at her."Hi," he said cheerfully.
The little girl looked at him, her bright blue eyes looking hallow and sad. She looked back down into her oatmeal.
Tom sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She looked at him with those eyes again.
"Kristen Riddle," she answered sadly.
"Really?" said Tom. "My last name's Riddle, too! How old are you?"
Kristen looked like she had regretted telling him her name and kept her mouth shut.
"Come on," Tom said quietly. "You can talk to me." It felt strange saying it. He never talked to anyone. Yet he felt a bond with Kristen. It wasn't just that they had the same last name. No, it went deeper than that.
"I'm two," she answered finally.
"I'm eight," he said. She looked down into her oatmeal bowl again. Tom heard her sniffle, and watched as a tear fell into the bowl.
"You won't want to eat it like that," Tom joked. Another tear fell. "Aw, don't cry. It's okay."
"I miss my mommy," Kristen whispered.
"Don't worry," said Tom. "I'll take care of you."
A few months passed. Tom kept his promise. He let Kristen use his blanket when she was cold. He let her have some of his food if she was hungry. He told her stories of the magical things he had heard about. Then Kristen confessed to him that she was part wizard. But like Tom, she had no magical powers. The two Riddles became very close.
Tom had been at the orphanage his whole life. But now that Kristen was there, he was fed up with it. He wanted to leave. He wanted to explore the world. So one night, when everyone else was asleep, he and Kristen climbed over the fence and into the world.
A year passed. Looking back, Tom couldn't remember how on earth they had managed to survive. They had very little, only two ratty blankets and the clothes on their backs. The only way to get food to eat was begging. But winter was approaching, and they were in trouble. The blankets were okay for the summer time, but they would surely freeze in winter. They managed to find a shelter. It was not much of a home, just an old, abandoned building. It had huge gaps in the walls and no windows, but it was safer than any other place. Tom knew he should not leave Kristen alone, even there, but she was sleeping so peacefully that he did not want to disturb her, and they needed food for breakfast.
Tom opened up a trashcan and looked inside. Nothing there, at least, nothing eatable.
Meanwhile, Kristen woke up and yawned. "Tom?" she said into the darkness. No answer. She pushed off the blanket and stood up. She looked around the whole room, but didn't see Tom. She went outside to look for him.
In the light, you could tell she had grown a lot under Tom's care. Her hair was jet black, like Tom's, but unlike his, it was stick straight and grew down to her chin. She had bright blue eyes, which was very mysterious, because the rest of her family all had emerald green eyes. She was a small and skinny girl; she hadn't been eating properly since she was born. But she was well taken care of. Tom always gave her the bigger half, the warmer blanket. Kristen was the only thing Tom had in the world now, and he was the only thing she had. She wandered away in search of her friend.
Immediately, Tom's heart jumped. Suddenly, he felt sick and scared. He had been walking back towards home, but he could tell something was wrong.
"Kristen!" he shouted. He searched the area, but she was not there. No…no! Where did she go? Tom thought. By now she was anywhere in London. He ran off to find her.
Meanwhile, Kristen walked along the streets of an even poorer neighborhood than the one they lived in. Not only was the neighborhood poor, they were also absorbed in the Dark Arts.
It was common knowledge that Mrs. Riddle had been an heir of Slytherin, one of the most powerful Dark Wizards of all. But Tom had never showed any sign of having magical powers at all. His father had no magical blood in him, so it was not unusual. Kristen was also half and half, as he was, but she had no magic either.
Kristen was very vulnerable walking into this neighborhood. After all, she was only three. Suddenly she heard laughing, and three tough looking boys jumped out of the shadows.
"What we got 'ere?" said one of the boys.
"Looks like a lil' girl," said another.
"What should we do with 'er?" asked the third. The boys looked at each other, then at Kristen. They pulled at their wands. Kristen began to run with all her might. She may not have been very old, but Tom had taught her a lot, and she was very smart. She knew when she was in trouble and she had to get away. One of the boys threw a rock at her. It hit her in the back. She spun around.
Suddenly, Kristen began to glow bright green. Her blue eyes fixed in a cold stare. A bright green flash shot out of her eyes and hit all three boys at once. They fell to the ground. Kristen was scared by what she had done. She ran even father away from home.
The Ministry of Magic soon arrived on the scene. William Borton, head of the department of Magical Crime Scene Investigation, inspected the bodies of the three boys. "They've been killed by an awfully powerful spell," he said.
"Look over here, Mr. Borton," said another of the department, Luke Starr. "Footprints. They look small, like a child's."
"Send a dementor after the murderer!" Borton instructed.
"But you know what a dementor could do to a child, sir!"
"I don't care who it is! They are dangerous and should be taken care of!"
A dementor was sent to follow the prints.
Tom looked all around London, but could not find Kristen. She was hopelessly lost. He too, he realized, looking around, was also lost. It was night, and he was cold. He had not blankets, no shelter, and no food. Tom crawled under the shelter of a big oak tree; he had come to the edge of London, and was getting into the countryside. He tossed for a while, but soon fell asleep.
Kristen, too, slept under the stars that night. She had collapsed from running, and fallen asleep in a field. The dementor was still following her, growing ever closer as she slept.
When Tom woke the next morning, he felt awful. He was tired, sick, and cold, but he had to keep going. A bit later he came upon a barn. He hid behind it, as not to be seen by the dementor that was floating up the path. It went into the field. Tom decided to follow it.
The dementor had apparently arrived at its destination, because it stopped in the middle of the field. Tom could see something in the grass, but couldn't quite make it out. He crept closer and closer. His heart stopped when he saw that what was lying in the grass was his friend.
Tom jumped up and began to run. "Kristen!" he cried, but he knew it was too late. The dementor bent over and kissed her.
To an adult, a dementor's kiss is a horrible thing. It would suck the soul right out of a person, leaving an empty shell to go and rot in Azkaban. In a child, however, it was much worse. The child would not likely survive the encounter. If it was lucky enough to live, it would die in a few months anyway. And Kristen Riddle was not lucky.
Tom ran to her, fearing what he would see. He knelt down next to her. "No, Kristen, no! Don't be dead! Please…don't be dead," Tom whispered. It was too late.
He stood up shaking. He began to run, not knowing where he was going. He just wanted to get away, as far as possible. After a few minutes of running, he was too sick to continue. He collapsed in the middle of the road.
Tom woke up wishing he would never wake. He had nothing to live for. The only thing he loved was gone. Then again, he could not die. He wanted to make everyone pay for the pain they had caused him…especially the Ministry of Magic. Tom knew dementors would only do what they were told, and that the Ministry controlled them. He had to live--to get his revenge.
Tom started to get up, but he was too weak. He was in a bed now, a hard, lumpy bed, but nevertheless a bed. Thick blankets covered him, and there was hot soup beside him. So he stayed there.
When he had regained his health and his strength, he began to leave. He walked out the front door of the place. There was a high, iron fence surrounding it, with a man standing guard at the gate. Tom walked to the man.
"What are you doing?" the man barked.
"I was just leaving, sir," said Tom. The man's tone made him uneasy.
"There's no leaving Brickstone's," said the guard.
Of all places,
Tom thought bitterly, I am back where I started.Tom could not leave. He stayed at the Orphanage for three years. The fed him very little food, and gave him very little schooling. He was beginning to think that he was better off living on the streets. He still had no friends at the orphanage. Everyone seemed to be a bit scared of him. Whenever he got mad, which was quite often, he got that same look in his eyes as Kristen had gotten in hers. People backed off after that.
Tom didn't mind being alone. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He was afraid to make friends, for fear of loosing them. He stayed quiet. People completely ignored him.
When Tom was eleven, something he thought would never happen happened. He got a letter from Hogwarts, the acclaimed wizarding school. It was the one his mother had gone to, and the one Salazar Slytherin had started so many years ago. Tom went to Hogwarts.
Things were much different at Hogwarts. They gave Tom good food, a warm bed, and challenging classes. At the beginning of his schooling, Tom was failing all subjects. One day, he got a letter. The letter said that if he didn't pull his grades up, he would be expelled. Hogwarts didn't want students who had no magical talents.
Tom worked harder than ever; he didn't want to go back to Brickstone's. After a few short days of hard work, he suddenly felt magic flowing into him. After all this, to his and his teachers' surprise, Tom was very good at magic. Once he had started learning, there was nothing he couldn't do. He became head of his class. People could not ignore this, they began to look up to him. He still did not have friends, now he had followers.
Defense Against the Dark Arts soon became Tom's favorite class. He did not want the defense part of the class, however, he wanted the Dark Arts. The Dark Arts were the only magic the Ministry were afraid of, and he was still planning his revenge.
Tom often sneaked out of the Slytherin common room at night to study the Dark Arts in the library. He filled his mind with spells, some good, some bad. He was soon named a Prefect.
In his sixth year, Tom knew there was no turning back to the good side. He opened the Chamber of Secrets and framed someone else for it. He could speak Parseltongue and could control snakes, serpents, and most importantly, basilisks. He became Head Boy, and graduated with high honors.
By this time, Tom was sick of his name. He was named after his father, whom he blamed for everything from him mother's death to Kristen's. He changed his name to Lord Voldemort. It sounded much more evil, and all he had to do was rearrange the letters in his full name. He only let his followers call him this, and told no one else.
When Tom graduated, he left England and traveled around the world, looking for followers. He found them. People were looking for power, revenge. Tom's first victims were his father and the rest of the Riddles. After that he was unstoppable. He became widely known, and feared, by the name Lord Voldemort. No one could beat him. He became more and more powerful, and ruled the wizards' world for eleven years.
One day, Voldemort heard word of the prophecies. A baby, Harry Potter, was seen in the stars to be his downfall. Voldemort didn't believe in Divination, but he went to the Potters' anyway. He had no problem killing Lily and James Potter, Harry's parents, but when he got to the baby, he could not. He wanted to kill it. He had killed so many people…why couldn't he destroy a tiny helpless baby? But something that was left in his ice-cold heart told him not to. Because of his love for Kristen so long ago, he could not kill baby Harry. He remembered how helpless she had been when she had been killed. He didn't want to kill the baby.
No! He didn't want to remember. He wanted to forget about ever knowing her. He didn't care about the stupid baby. He shot a curse at it, but Harry was protected from him, as long as he remembered Kristen Riddle. The shot rebounded on him. He vanished.
Some people say it was Lily Potter's love for her child that stopped Lord Voldemort from destroying baby Harry. It wasn't her love. It was the love Voldemort remembered from his childhood.
The people that were killed, the tears that were shed…all because of a simple hatred and sadness caused by the death of Kristen Riddle.