Riddle Murders
The night has fallen—stars are dazzling in the dark sky and a faint cool breeze swept past by, rustling against the leaves on the trees. Somewhere, the crickets are chirping in the night. The only light that is shining in the almost deserted area are the lights coming from the Riddle Manor.
Tom Riddle stands in front of the wrought iron gates, his cold dark eyes staring at the house. He grips the wand tightly, the wand which he manage to steal from his uncle, the knuckles turning white. Fury erupted inside him that at any moment, he could burst. He grits his teeth as he stares at the mansion.
He looks at the padlock and chains that firmly closed the gates. He points his wand towards the padlock and chains.
"Alohomora," he muttered under his breath.
The padlock and the chain loosen their grip on the gates. Riddle slowly pushes the gate open, the gate making a tiny squeaking noise. He finally steps inside the grounds of his father's manor.
The mansion looked more like a large palace nestling in the countryside—large windows and walls painted in sunflower yellow with an ornate wooden front door, leading to the inside. Riddle slowly walks along the graveled path that leads to the entrance of the house, making some crunching sound. He stands in front of the door and takes a deep breath.
A murderous rage filled inside him. He wants to take revenge. And it is now…or never.
"Alohomora," he repeats again and the door squeaks open. Tom steps into the house.
The house looks empty and dark and Tom could faintly make out the large sofas filling up the living room, portraits of the Riddle ancestors hung on the walls and a large chandelier, hanging on the ceiling. Somewhere, he could hear ripples of laughter and distinct voices. It was coming from upstairs.
"Lumos," he whispered and a yellow colored glow flashed at the tip of the wand, allowing him to see.
Taking a deep breath and gripping his wand tightly, he slowly makes his way upstairs, trying not to make any noise. As he drew closer, the voices became louder and closer. A light is coming from a room, down the end of the hallway and the chit-chatter seems to be coming from that room. He slowly walks towards the room and then stops. The door is partially opened and Riddle cannot really see who is inside the room.
"Germans are going to lose right? Now that the Americans have finally joined the war," he heard a woman's voice.
"They will…soon," a man's voice boomed. "Germans have already taken over most of Europe but they are going to lose now that Americans are on our side,"
"London is still not safe, that's why I bought Cecilia and the girls here," another man's voice jumped in and Riddle's heart skipped a beat. It was his father who had just spoken.
"I heard Cecelia is pregnant again…" the woman's voice said, with a hint of adoration and tenderness.
"Yes, I hope it's a boy…so there will be someone who will carry on my name," his father replied back, proudly.
Riddle couldn't take this drama façade going on inside the room so he suddenly kicks the door open and burst into the room.
There were three people in the room—an elderly man with salt and pepper colored hair and moustache, wearing long sleeved shirt and dark green vest and gray pants, an elderly woman with snow white hair, wearing a floral printed dress and in between them, is his father, still looking handsome with dark hair, graying at the sides wearing a shirt and dark pants. All three had shocked look on their faces, as if they had seen a ghost, frozen to the spot.
"T-Tom…" the elderly woman stammered, her eyes on Riddle still. "Who…who is this boy?"
"He looks just like you…" the elderly man gasped, gaping at the boy.
His father got up and then glared at him.
"Who are you and what do you want?" he demanded. "And how did you come in here?"
Tom looks at his father, face to face.
"I am your son…Tom…" Tom said in a calm, soft voice.
His father stares at him and then burst out laughing.
"Son? You are not my son, I don't have any son," his father challenged him.
"You abandoned my mother! You killed her!" Tom shouted, his grip on the wand tightened.
"She hoodwinked me! And you are not my son! Now get out of my house!" his father bellowed.
"Tom…" the elderly man cautioned.
"Oh dear," the woman sighed heavily slumping back on her chair.
"You left me and my mother," Riddle hissed at his father. "You abandoned me! You abandoned us!"
"I got nothing to do with her or you!" his father shouted, his eyes filled with fury and shock. "Get out my house now! I don't want to see your face ever again!"
Riddle looks at his father. All three of them are staring at this teenage boy who bore strong resemblance to Tom Riddle Senior.
Then Riddle takes his wand and points at his father, on the chest.
His father stares at the wand and then burst out laughing.
"What? Are you going to kill me with that wooden stick?" he sneered.
Riddle flashed his eyes at his father.
"Don't talk to me like that…" he muttered, his hand shaking.
"Your mother was pathetic and so are you—"
"Tom," the woman pleaded. "Let the boy go—"
"You are nothing but a pathetic loser…like your mother." His father continued, ignoring his mother. "Now get out of the house before I take the gun and—"
"Avada Kedavra!" Riddle bellowed.
A jet of green light flashed at the tip of the wand and hit squarely on his father's chest. His sneering look on his face is now replaced with a shocked look. His father falls on the floor with a thud, his mouth partly opened with a dead look in his eyes.
"Tom!" the woman cried but she starts backing away as Riddle walks towards her, with the wand. The man then quickly covers the woman, staring at the wand.
"Let us go…" the man pleaded. "Please…"
"You could have done something," Riddle whispered.
"We knew nothing about you…" the woman said, tears rolling down her cheeks, her voice shaking. "Please let us go…we won't tell anyone…"
"Do you know how much I was being bullied, ridiculed and being treated so badly? All because of this man!" Riddle shouted pointing his wand back at his dead father.
"Son…please…if we have known…we could have helped you…" the man pleaded. Both his grandparents' faces had pleading looks, worried and anxious look pasted on their faces.
Riddle raise his wand and points it at his grandparents who were shaking.
"Avada Kedavra…" he said softly. Both his grandparents fell on the ground, dead.
Tom then walks towards his dead father. He bends down so he can look at his father directly in his eyes.
"You never thought I will come…did you?" he whispered. And he gives a maniacal laugh that echoed around the empty mansion. He glared at his dead father. "I haven't stopped my revenge yet…I will take revenge from you by killing all the Mudbloods like you… filthy Father…"
He kicks his father and then glances at his dead grandparents sprawled on the floor. He then leaves the room, walking down the hallway and then climbs down the stairs and out of the manor. His mission…is accomplished.
His father had never wanted him. Filthy father…he thought angrily as he walks into the night and out of the manor grounds.
He then stops in the middle of the road that leads to his uncle's rundown house. He grins to himself. Slowly, humming a tune under his breath, he walks towards his uncle's house. Someone had to take blame for the Riddle murders.