I'm pretty sure this story is what we would call a Plotbunny. While I was writing the fourth chapter of 'Child of Bad Faith' this thought came to my mind: "What about a SI in the boots of Tom Riddle?" The whole idea sounded and is absurd. But to be honest, Self Insert stories are one of my favorite and I usually have great amounts of fun reading them. There's rarely any of this in the Harry Potter fandom (as far as I know) but other fandoms (like Naruto) there is a fair share of it. Why make Tom a female? Well, the idea came after reading 'Limpieza de Sangre' by TheEndLess7, possibly one of my favorite fics ever read. I wanted to make something in that time period of the HP Universe (I still do, I have something in mind) but this plotbunny just couldn't stay away.
I want to make sure that this isn't an actual Self Insert. This character is unaware of the HP Universe, or in her previously life, Harry Potter didn't exist, so she's pretty much going blind into this life. While I don't mind SI stories were the MC is aware their new life is 'fiction' I deeply hate the stories were the MCs tell other characters that all is fake, not real, a game, a show, whatever. I hate it with a passion. Meanwhile I love those that take advantage of their knowledge or are completely clueless as to what they are getting themselves into. My two biggest inspirations for the latter are 'Night-Blooming Cereus' by ZoeRubyJackson & 'Endure' by Kirika 07. Both fics are from Naruto but I highly. HIGHLY reccomend them (Even if they are more than likely abandoned) I have something plan for a Naruto SI fanfic and I hope I can make something as captivating as their fics.
I wrote the first chapter at the same time as 'Child of Bad Faith' I also haven't re-read it to make sure is at least decent so... beware.
I'm going to leave the rating in T, as always, but be warned, there will be violence.
Disclaimer: NEWS FLASH! I DON'T own Harry Potter. Who would've thought?
How I Became a Dark Lady
The cries of the baby filled the room, and the women sighed in relief. There was too much blood in the mattress, the birthing process had been extraneous and long, but the baby was alive and it seemed healthy.
"Congratulations miss, you gave birth to a strong babe." the cool voice of the matron brought the women back to reality, out of their blissful joy over the small miracle.
"Tom…" the mother breathed.
"Miss, you need to rest. You are looking quite pale." the matron announced.
"I-I… I want to see…"
The matron nodded to the one holding the new-born. The woman approached the mother and handed her the bundle. The woman stayed closed in case the mother's shaky arms weren't capable of holding the baby.
"Oh. Oh, how beautiful… my dear Tom. You are Tom… Tom Marvolo Riddle. Like your beautiful father." The mother said in a low voice, barely caught by the rest.
"Miss, it's a girl. You have a daughter." the woman next her spoke. But she wasn't listening.
"You'll be just as… handsome as him. How lovely… Tom, you…" the woman closed her eyes. The matron told the women to take the baby to a crib while she called the officials to prepare the birth certificate and whatnot. But the mother had close her eyes to never open them again.
The staff members of the Orphanage, present in the birth would honour the mother's final words to keep the girl's name as Tom, not really aware of any consequences, not really caring.
And thus, Tom Marvolo Riddle was born the 31st of December, 1926. Born a girl holding more than one secret.
There is a gap in my mind. A blank space between the Before and the Now. I am aware I had a life before this one, I had a job, a pet dog and especially I had technology. The early months were like a haze of images with no control of my body or my emotions. It wasn't until my brain had develop properly that I slowly became aware of my condition and more importantly, I became aware of myself.
Perhaps it was the lack of brain development, or emotional development, that I understood what had happened and who I was. I worked at a company that developed firearms, I worked in the relations departments, usually meeting government officials across the world to provide them with the capabilities of our products.
I had died. I couldn't remember how. I couldn't remember many things either. But now, I lived once again.
The principle of rebirth contradicted my core beliefs. For me, Death was absolute. Many would say, in a quasi-philosophical discussion, that Death is part of Life, just a stage of the process and whatever came next was unknown. But that would make me a contradiction as well. How am I here after facing the absolute? What about the many, many others? The countless people that died in the day to day? What made me special to hold memories of a past life?
And to worsen my mental state, I questioned my own existence. Who was I? Who am I? I was… someone, but was I that same person? Just because I hold those memories, do they make me who I am today? Or do I get a clean slate? A Carte Blanche to stray from my past sins… or rather the sins of the woman in my thoughts?
That's how I spend the many months of development into a toddler, wandering and wondering in my own mind. Holding an internal conflict with myself. I was my own ally and my worst enemy. Like Balrog against Gandalf, the battle carried on for an eternity until the victor was made. And I… was reborn.
I was no longer Samantha Greystone. But neither I'm Tom Riddle. I had become something in the middle, a mix of the experiences and the knowledge from Before, and the freedom of a new life. By the time I was ready to roam this new life I came to the horrible realization of where and when I was.
I was in Britain, the accent made me sure of that. But that wasn't what matters, what did was the fact that I was in an Orphanage. Yes, there were several women that looked after me in my previous stage of cognisance, but it never came to thought that they were caretakers of an Orphanage. I was an orphan.
And the most shocking and unbelievable of all. I was in the past, not only that, but I was in the late 20's. The interwar period, the depression era. In Britain… most likely London. It was then that I knew that whatever deity or cosmic mistake granted me this new chance at life, had a horrible sense of humour (if it has one) to bring me back to the darkest hour in human history.
But, like every problem, I had to start with the most immediate issue and seek a solution. That issue being in an Orphanage. The place looks shady at best, the place held a sort of cold aura, might be the Depression affecting the entire nation, or the lost hope from the kids knowing deep inside that there's nobody out there that want them.
The staff didn't help, it was clear that they didn't care for any of us, they work for the money or the empathy points that it gave them with society, nevertheless they more than likely just neglected us. And finally, the cherry on top were the kids themselves. For the little I'd managed to watch them, they were little brats: noisy, disrespectful, and rude and more. So the problem wasn't me being an orphan, the problem was being in this Orphanage specifically.
I was around two years old when I decided to take charge of the situation.
Or so I thought, when I realize the wonderful, delightful reality that changed any sort of vague idea that I had for my vague looking future.
It was in the early days of my search of the building, learning its layout and the tenants. So far I had met 11 girls and 18 boys, all in the age range of 3 to 12, making me the youngest in the bunch. I was in the least transited part of the place, it looked even shadier than the rest of the Orphanage. Dimmer and gloomier, when two boys halted my progress.
"Hey, hey! Andrew! Is that her?" The smallest boy said, he looked about 6 or 7 years old.
"Yea! The girl with the boy name. The one the caretakers always talk about. Last night I heard Margaret telling the Mrs Cole that she was the child of the devil!" The oldest, maybe 10, Andrew said. Something about the way he spoke and the dark look in his eyes rub me the wrong way.
"The devil?" the other kid said shakily.
"Yes! They say that her mother had the child of the devil, so when she was born, she killed her mother!" Andrew approached me one step at a time.
"Wha-What are you doing?! Stay away!"
"Shut up, Michael! I say we deal with the devil, we'll save the Orphanage!" Andrew grinned.
"Look at her Andrew. The way she's looking at us! She might curse us!" Michael yelled.
"Come! Help me!" And before anyone else could do something, the boy, Andrew grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the backyard of the Orphanage. Michael without many options left, followed us and help me get dragged out.
Once outside I noticed that the apple didn't fall far from the tree, in this case the backyard looked just like the rest of the place, unfriendly, distant, cold. Even if the metaphor didn't work, didn't changed the fact that this place was unpleasant. Suddenly Andrew pulled my hair and I bit down any tears.
"Wha-What are you going to do Andrew?"
"We are going to get rid of the evil." Andrew started digging out a small mound of dirt. "I heard it from one of the adults once. How the people got together and took down monsters."
"But-but… look at her. She's a baby." How rude.
"So? Have you heard of the spawn of the devil? We can do it, before she hurts anyone." Andrew's glee seemed to turned wilder, like an invisible force was manipulating him. At this moment I would have question myself who was the real spawn of the devil, when any doubt was thrown out the window the moment I saw what he dug out.
"What is that?!" Cowering Michael shouted in his shaking glory.
"Shut up!" Andrew hissed at him. "I took it from some Irish in the street, beautiful ain't it?" It was a knife, or rather a sword by the size of the thing. There were some patches of rust, but overall it looked sharp. He moved the blade right in front of me. My heart skipped a beat. I had died and I wasn't afraid of confronting whatever was beyond the mortal realm, but being butchered filled my entire being with unrelenting fear. I was just two years old in this life. No matter how advantageous I was, I wanted to live. I… I don't want to die. Don't wanna. Don't. No. No. No!
Andrew raised the blade and swinged it. I saw it come down and, "No!" An interior warmth filled me, it covered me like a protective coat. Like a shield in a sword for a warrior, I instinctively acted, I pushed.
There was a noise that sounded like a splash accompanied by a squash and finally a thud. I opened my eyes and saw Andrew in the ground. He was bleeding profusely from the place that the knife embedded itself in his chest and blood was coming out of his mouth, he was looking directly at me, in his glazed look there was only fear. I stared back wide eyed. Michael was crying, and by the smell of it, he peed himself. The choking noises came to halt alongside the crazed boy. I was alive.
"Mo-Mo-Mon...ster!" I pushed that warm again and stop Michael in his track, he was completely immovable, except for his terrified eyes. I closed the distance.
"You will say no word. You will listen. You will obey. Okay?" My baby lisp made the threat rather laughable, but it worked for the boy. I pulled away from him and he was able to move once again.
"Plea-please. Please, please! Don't hurt me!"
"Only if you obey."
He nodded vigorously, "I will, I will, please!" The boy kept on crying. Deciding to avoid the shocking truth of what I have done I gave him my first order.
"Call Mrs Cole. Tell her it was an accident. Andrew hurt himself." Not waiting for more the kid fled. I was hoping he'd listen, most likely he will, not wanting to risk any more… excitement.
I looked at the dead kid again. I had killed him, somehow. The strange warm… I could feel it, all around me. I concentrated this strange energy and pushed. Several rocks close to me were sent flying, I pushed back and the rocks returned, almost hitting me. This inexplicable ability was… It felt… It made me a… If I could grasp the complete control of this I could…
The innumerable ideas, possibilities, plans and many more things that I could do with this ability changed the entirety of this new life. I could be unstoppable, undefeated, unchallenged by whatever adversity this life could come against me. I knew that if I mastered this, there would be no limit, not even the sky.
The shouts of the caretakers brought me back to reality. Putting myself into position, I started to cry.
"My goodness, no!" Someone exclaimed. One of the caretakers carried me, while the others checked on the dead boy. I allow myself to see my surroundings. Michael was crying, but it was the caretaker that was comforting him that drew my attention, Margaret. She was staring at me, there was fear in her eyes, yes. But there was also something else. She could tell I did this. She was overly religious and by what I've heard, she has been spreading rumours about me. This was the start of something interesting. Something beautiful and I will start with Margaret.
Thank you for reading. And please! please! let me know what you think. This idea came as a plotbunny and I'm not sure if giving it a try or not. I could leave it as a One-shot. I don't mind the way it ended. Let me know!