When I looked into those righteous emerald eyes, I wished that things had been different. I wished that my mother hadn't died and left me to live a life filled with pain, and anger and loneliness. I cursed my useless muggle father that couldn't see past his ego and pride to see the silly little girl who had fallen so completely for him, and the child that she carried, and save her. I wish that the other orphans had seen that I was protecting them from the slime for children that I hurt. That I sacrificed my innocence for theirs. The thing I wish for most though was that the Master Manipulator had never come. Everyone would have been better off if he were dead, if the bloody bastard had never walked the earth.
I never hated muggles or muggle-borns. All I had ever wanted was to define the line, so that wizards and witches didn't lose their heritage, their culture. His well-placed Confundus changed that. After the first Horcrux was created I lost my sanity. But even then, I wouldn't believe that phony prophesy, I wouldn't condemn innocent children as I had. So he did it for me. A merciless Avada Kedavra cast to destroy my body, after I'd given the orders that condemned the Longbottoms to Bellatrix. Then he took care of the Potters, unknowingly connecting the last two House Heirs. Then, he took care of Sirius Black, the poor soul, by setting him up. After, there was nobody to stand in his way. He moulded that poor boy to be influenced by him. After years of being abused and neglected who wouldn't love the person they thought was their saviour. It was no coincidence that the Weasleys were late that day after Hagrid left him by himself, or that they used the muggle entrance. Neither was it one that Quirrell was there and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't break His Imperius. I regret that he died. The coot understands Parseltoung, even speaks it. He could have stopped the basilisk both times it was released, but he didn't. Instead he let two students take the fall. It was through his scheming that Sirius Black was even in Azkaban. One dose of Veritaserum and Black's innocence would have been proven. But he didn't even get a fair trial, not even a chance to try to tell the truth. It is a testament to the Blacks that even as a Gryffindor; Sirius was still Slytherin enough to escape there. I hope those Marauders have finally found peace.
The next year pained me the most. Letting a fourteen year old boy compete in the Triwizard Tournament is like feeding a baby to the lions, or more appropriately, the dragons. And letting Barty Crouch Jr. into that school, let alone near that boy. At the very least Severus should have picked up on it; he had sworn to protect the boy after all. But no, it takes Crouch's plan almost working and his father's death for them to realise something was wrong.
Not one thing went right with the child's fifth year. The isolation, the secrets, the torture, and he could have done something about it. HE could have trained the boy and stopped the visions that it killed me to send. HE could have at least warned him. Instead he had to lose more. But at least I got to see that he was not brainwashed; that he knew what was going on, that he saw through the wool and once this was finished he would leave them, that he would make it. His sixth year we were finally freed from his presence, if not our roles, in this obscene game of chess. Finally Dumbledore is dead.
It was this year that was the worst. We've hurt so many people; both in our own ways. Now all the Horcruxes are gone. If it weren't for the fact I knew he would not die, I would never have cast that spell. I am happy Draco's mother loves him as much as she does, for they will surly heal each other. I am proud that the boy hasn't lost the Slytherin in him. It made this a lot easier.
Now we stand here as he explains what we both know. He asks me to regret what I've done and I deny what we both know is true. I regret it all, especially Severus, though I ease my guilt in knowing he can now see his Lilly again. As we cast the spells, as we reach checkmate, we know that this, to die is not my greatest fear, but my release. And as the last piece of my soul is released and it is once again whole, the result of my regret, I feel relief, that we are both free. Harry Potter can now shed the Lions clothing and live his own life as the Snake he is, and I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, can see my mother, be my true self, for the first time in many years.