Author's Note: This story is in response to a question from a friend of mine. She wanted to know why, if it could have been either Harry or Neville as the Chosen One, why on Earth did Voldemort pick the half-blood boy as the threat over Neville? I thought about her question for a while and this story developed. It follows Tom Riddle from age six all the way to his death at the end of Deathly Hallows.

For those of you waiting for updates on my other fics, I thank you for your patience and continued support and I assure you that it will be rewarded soon as I am working on updates for both Watson's Angel and Ms. Jekyll and the Iron Princess.

Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.

It was a particularly cold Christmas Eve morning when 5-year-old Tom Riddle (soon to be six) was disturbed by a peculiar knock at his bedroom door. Startled, from his relaxed pose on his bed the young boy jerked his gaze from the snow collecting on his windowsill to the worn wood of the locked door currently preventing the would-be-intruder from entering his sanctuary. 'Curious', he thought, for it was unusual for someone - anyone, really - to seek him out. Cocking his head slightly to the left, he watched the door fully expecting to hear an unknown voice calling out someone else's name. Even if his company was desired by someone (which he deemed to be extremely unlikely), certainly no one from St. Wool's would be stupid enough as to try and grab his attention while his door was quite clearly closed. And everyone in the orphanage knew very well that this was his door. Thus, the person who had knocked must be an outsider.

'Odd, why have they yet to disturb another orphan's morning with their knocking?' he wondered. But as nothing but silence followed the knock, Tom was about ready to assume that whoever the person was, they had realized their mistake - because even someone whom he had never met couldn't possibly have been looking for him. After all, his own father had never met him, and as far as Tom knew, the man had never darkened the doors of St. Wool's. But he had given up that daydream years ago at the very mature age of four. Bored, he was just about to look back out his window at the lightly falling snow when the knock came again. This time, Tom sat up fully, swinging his legs around so they were off the side of the bed and he was fully facing the door.

"Excuse me," came the voice from the hall. It sounded like that of a young girl - which was incredibly surprising to Tom because, as rare an occurrence as it was for someone to come looking for him, it was almost unheard of for said person to be a little girl. Especially one who didn't sound frightened - no, this one just sounded impatient. "Excuse me!" came the girl's voice again. "You are Tom Riddle, aren't you?" she asked, though from her tone of voice, she clearly already knew the answer.

Too surprised by the entire situation, Tom replied with a tentative, "Yes, that's me," before resuming his stock-still posture as he stared at the door in front of him.

"Look, I know it's early in the morning, but we're all waiting for you downstairs," the girl informed him.

Confused, Tom stood up, and opened the door only to find himself face-to-face with a very pretty girl about his age, and a good few inches shorter than himself. Her black hair was somewhat wavy and shoulder length and she had that rosy complexion that came from recently standing outside in the cold. Her eyes were a bright violet and they positively twinkled with mirth and wit. He'd never seen someone with eyes like that before.

But what truly surprised him was her reaction to his stare. Instead of cowering under his impassive gaze, she put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to look him straight in the eyes. No one - not even an adult - had ever looked him in the eyes without quickly backing down. Most became shifty-eyed as though they were trying to plot an escape route.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he took her confidence as a personal challenge. He wanted to see how cold and emotionless he would have to get in order to unnerve her. Because of this, he fixed her with his iciest glare and spoke in a toneless voice: "Why, exactly, would anyone be waiting for me downstairs?"

Seemingly unmoved by his personality, the girl fixed him with a look that quite clearly stated 'Isn't it obvious?' as she replied, "The excursion to the Gardens…" She said it quite slowly, in the same condescending manner and tone that Tom himself often used when forced to explain something simple to someone with less brains than he. This confused him further because, for one, he had never met anyone with a sufficient level of intelligence to pull off that attitude when speaking with him, and two, he had never met a girl with a proclivity for condescension. All the girls he knew had been taught to be proper and polite.

Yet, he had never heard of an excursion taking place today, so, feeling extremely dim, Tom asked, "What are you talking about?" It was only after the words had left his mouth that he realized he hadn't asked it with quite the amount of venom he had intended to use. The girl smirked, as though she knew what he was thinking. 'Am I really that obvious?' Tom thought.

"Yes, you really are," the girl said.

Bewildered, Tom thought to himself, 'Did I say that out loud?'

Briefly too consumed with his own thoughts as he replayed the past few seconds, desperately trying to figure out how he hadn't noticed himself physically asking that question of the girl, Tom didn't notice the brief look of utter terror on her face as she realized what she had just done. 'Mum and Dad'll kill me if they find out,' she thought before quickly schooling her features to mask her internal thoughts.

"Anyway," she continued, "Mrs. Cole sent me to come get you so we can head out. I'm not sure if she didn't mention it to you or if you just weren't listening, but we're going to spend the day in Kensington Gardens." She stood there, looking at him expectantly.

Tom, who couldn't remember the last time someone had ever dared take that tone with him, decided the girl's cocky, self-assured mentality was more than just a momentary slip-up in her manners training. He actually found it quite refreshing to find someone whose external running commentary matched his own inner thoughts. "Isn't it a bit cold outside for something like that?" he asked.

The girl rolled her eyes at him. "It's never too cold for an adventure in the Gardens!" she said excitedly. She ignored his raised eyebrow at her enthusiasm and gestured at the wardrobe in the corner of his room. "Perhaps you should put on your winter things so we can get going." She had phrased it like a suggestion, but Tom knew very well that it was not. So, for the first time in his life, he found himself following someone else's orders.

She took a few steps inside his room, watching him grab his winter attire. 'What, does she think I'll just lay down and go back to sleep if she doesn't physically stand there and watch me?' he wondered. The girl smirked, unnerving him slightly. 'Who is this girl, anyway?'

"My name's Emrys. Emrys Doric."

Author's Note: I have more installments ready, but they're not in order yet. I'll post them when I can :)

Reviews are welcome