Dark Riddle

The path to darkness always has a beginning. For a boy named Tom Riddle, that path would involve murder, deceit, and cruelty. Before he was Voldemort, he was a sixth year Slytherin with plans of reshaping the wizarding world in his image.

Disclaimer: I don't own the books, but I do take credit for the deliciously evil stuff that's going to take place. Rated T for swearing and sexual situations.

Chapter 1

The Riddles

"You cast the blame on me, yet I am only the product of society's neglect. Where I fall another will surely rise to take my place." — Gellert Grindelwald at his trial in 1945.

August 15, 1943

The Riddles of Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, were proud to say that they were immensely wealthy, thank you very much. They sat in their lavish house that was perched atop a hill and overlooked the village. Thomas and Mary Riddle were having dinner with their son, Tom, a well-spoken young man with a promising future. Thomas was already grooming his son to take over the family's accounting business once he retired. Mary, however, simply chose to dote on the young man who she considered to be the perfect son.

It was an ordinary warm night in August. Mary was telling her family about her personal maid who decided to wear the world's cheapest shoes to work that morning. Mary sent the foolish girl home at once for fear that she would be seen by one of their high profile friends. Mrs. Riddle would have been much happier had the girl decided to arrive at work barefoot. It would have been an improvement.

The family was in such a deep conversation that they failed to hear the faint footsteps approaching the room door. They didn't notice the elegant knob turn, nor did they see the pale boy who stepped coolly into the room. The boy didn't waste time as he pulled out the borrowed wand of his uncle and spoke the incantation; "Avada kedavra".

Tom Riddle, the young man with a promising future, was dead before he could even reach for another crumpet. There was no light at the end of the tunnel, no flashes of memories, not even a grim reaper with a scythe.

One moment he was sitting with his parents drinking an evening tea, and the next he was dead. In the seconds of him finally noticing the stranger in his parents home, there was a face that became embedded in his fading mind. It was a familiar yet foreign face.

The face belonged to a boy no older than eighteen with hair and eyes similar to his but there was a darkness about him. Tom only managed a glimpse into the boy's eyes before a green light hit him viciously in the chest. In those eyes, he saw emotions ranging from triumph, anger, and hatred. But most all of there was malice in its purest form. In those seconds he had looked into the gates of hell.

The boy watched the man fall with glee so intense it made goosebumps crawl over his skin. The unforgivables always had that effect on him, but there was something special about casting this killing curse. With just two simple words he had finally snuffed out the last of his pathetic waste of a family.

With the deed done, he was left as the lone living occupant in the large manor. The boy admired the furnishings as he absently strolled towards the bodies. He reached his grandparents first and looked down at them. They laid close together on the pristine floor. Both had a look of utter surprise etched permanently on their faces. Neither had enough time to see him before he killed them both.

The boy stepped over them without giving a second glance. They weren't the real reason why he was there, merely a pleasant bonus he was happy to collect.

No, the true reason for his presence laid only a few inches away. The boy reached the third body and his demeanor changed. He slowly bent down and touched his father's cold face. He quickly noticed how similar he and the young man looked. It was possible, in a few years, he could even pass as a twin of sorts to Tom Riddle Sr.

His mother made sure he inherited his father's appearance, a fact that hunted him now and made him growl angrily. Using the heel of his shoe, he turned the head away. The boy didn't want to see the man's dead eyes staring up at him.

"Hello, father." Tom Riddle Jr greeted the corpse casually. The spacious room caused his voice to echo off the walls. He grinned when the corpse didn't respond. "I'm the child you neglected sixteen years ago. As much as I'd like to, I can't give you all the blame. My mother poisoned your mind for many years. She was a weak fool, unfortunately…"

He sat down next to his father's body. It was late at night, almost midnight, so Tom knew the Muggle police wouldn't be notified of the deaths until morning when the servants arrived.

By then he would be long gone and starting the next phase of his plans. But for now, he was content with staying with his dead Muggle relatives a bit longer. Their presence made him feel odd. Even though he saw them as a major flaw in his otherwise prestigious family tree, they were still—for a lack of a better word—his family.

"My family." He spoke the word out loud and the thought made him grimace. He didn't need a family, not anymore at least. His rise to power would involve cutting all ties so that his enemies would have nothing to use against him. If anyone found out he was related to Muggles his plans would crumble.

Although vengeance drove him to Little Hangleton, it was also a necessity that he removed his father and grandparents from the picture. The only person who knew his secret was Albus Dumbledore, and Tom planned to deal with the old man in due time.

For the next hour, he sat with his dead relatives in silence. At 6 AM a horrified shriek would be heard from the manor as the first servant arrived and found the Riddles.

September 25, 1943

Albus Dumbledore looked over the report with a frown. The slight wrinkles on his face became more pronounced the longer he read. The Ministry had informed him that the Riddles were dead and that Morfin Gaunt had been charged with the murders. The Riddle family were wealthy and influential. News about their mysterious murder was spreading rapidly and the Ministry wanted it contained. The last thing they wanted was the Muggle authorities digging too deeply and discovering something they shouldn't.

But the murders weren't the only thing that disturbed the Transfiguration professor. It was the coincidence that the Riddles were murdered at the end of the summer when their wizarding relative, Tom Riddle Jr, was out of school. Albus didn't consider himself to be a grand detective, but it wasn't hard to put the puzzle pieces into place. It was a thought too depressing to consider. Dumbledore knew Tom had an aptitude for cruelty but murder was on an entirely different level. To kill was a sin against mankind, but to kill at just sixteen was unheard of.

A knock on his office door made Dumbledore look up from the report. He sighed heavily and placed the paper in his desk drawer. The wrinkles on his face were so deep now they made him look several years older.

"Come in, Mr. Riddle."

The door opened and the subject of his thoughts sauntered in with a face devoid of emotion. He promptly sat down in the seat across from the professor.

"You wanted to see me?" There was a drawl to his voice that suggested he was already bored. He didn't bother addressing the old man.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you've heard about the murder of your relatives."

Riddle gave an odd expression as if he tasted something sour. "I don't recall them. Though, to be fair, they weren't worth remembering."

The aging professor abruptly stood up from his desk. The nonchalant way in which the boy spoke of his own relatives shook him to the core.

"They were innocent people, Tom," Dumbledore replied. "Innocent people who lost their lives—"

"They were nothing!" Tom spat. He could barely contain his resentment towards his Muggle family, even after their death. Dumbledore had seen Tom Riddle's hatred and contempt. It was soul-crushing and threatened to consume everything around him. The professor could see something had changed.

The ominous aura around the young man had increased exponentially. Dumbledore could almost feel it as if it was a tangible force. There was no doubt in the professor's mind as to who was really responsible for the murders.

"No matter how little you thought of them, they were innocent. They didn't deserve to be murdered. Especially by someone who was related to them by blood." His voice was calm but the accusation was clear.

"Are you accusing me, Dumbledore?"

"Professor, Tom." He corrected sharply. "As you are a student it's important you remember that you are not my equal."

The tension in the room was thick. Tom was trying his best to reign in his anger, but it was near impossible at that point. After minutes of absolute silence, Tom stood from his seat and headed for the door. He didn't excuse himself or apologize for his earlier outburst. The false student and professor relationship between them had decayed years ago. Dumbledore was starting to see the young man as a threat that would become something much worse than Grindelwald.

"Tom…" Dumbledore called out and the sixth year paused. His shoulders were shaking with bubbling rage. "I knew someone who walked the same dark path you are on now. I only hope that you can be saved before it's too late."

The boy chuckled humorlessly in return. "I don't need saving, Professor."

Tom left the room with the same emotionless expression he arrived with.

A tear fell down Dumbledore's face as the words resonated in his mind. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew deep in his heart Tom was beyond saving.

If anyone was unlucky enough to cross paths with Tom Riddle at that moment he would have done them bodily harm. His fists were clenched so tightly his palms were close to bleeding. Albus Dumbledore would have to die. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday he would make sure the old man paid for his constant interference and meddling.

Seeking a way to release some frustration he sought Cordelia Avery, one of his faithful "friends" who was more than willing to please him in more ways than one. Tom eventually found her in the girl's loo teasing a Ravenclaw girl named Myrtle Warren.

Myrtle was a lowly Muggle-born with little to offer him. She was far from attractive, and not particularly bright. However, Tom found himself being civil to her for reasons he couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was because, deep in his subconscious, he could relate to her.

The teasing she received from some of the Hogwarts girls was not unlike the ridicule he suffered at the orphanage. The difference between them was that Tom rose above his tormentors and eventually became the alpha of the group, Myrtle, on the other hand, was destined to remain at the bottom. She was an example of everything he worked hard to distance himself from.

Cordelia and the group of other Slytherin girls had Myrtle cornered against the wall. He wasn't sure what was going on, but the Ravenclaw girl was weeping and screaming at them to leave her alone. The sight made him sneer.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" He asked his fellow Slytherins who immediately nodded and dispersed. Cordelia pouted her lip at him.

"We were just having a little fun. This bitch deserves it for being such an annoying twat."

Myrtle squirmed slightly and her eyes darted to him. He could see the silent plea for help.

She was of such little interest to him that he chose to ignore her completely. "Cordelia, I require your...services."

The blonde haired girl perked up and a knowing grin appeared on her unblemished face. "It has been a while, hasn't it?" She began reaching for his crotch but he slapped her hand away.

His reaction didn't deter her. "We should do it right here in front of the little bitch. Let her see something she'll never experience. It's the least we can do."

Her boldness annoyed and amused him. She was cruel and vindictive which made her perfect for what he needed. Grabbing her arm he dragged her out the bathroom and towards the seventh floor. He had discovered the room in his third year and had used it for his personal studies ever since. In his fifth year, it became the headquarters where he held meetings.

The Room of Everything (his personal name for it) could fit any request he had without fail. Barnabas the Barmy was thankfully sleep in his portrait when they arrived. The man in the portrait liked to boast about his many absurd adventures. He caught Dumbledore snooping in the hallway several times, no doubt tipped off by the portrait's loud voice. Tom still had a tight hold on Cordelia's arm as he walked past the area three times while thinking of his study. Tom opened the rustic door that appeared and entered the large library within.

The room was organized and clean except for his desk, which had several books sprawled across it. They were mostly books from the Hogwarts library, but there were a few he had to keep hidden for obvious reasons.

Cordelia sat on the plush couch and began undressing. Tom watched her before growing impatient and practically ripped her shirt off. The scattered buttons barely touched the floor before he was on top of her. Their bodies clashed together as he mercilessly plunged himself deep inside her. The sex was not gentle or slow.

He pulled her hair and made her beg like the inferior servant she was. Tom took her against the wall, on his desk, and on the floor. He left blood and bruises on her back from digging his fingers deep into her skin. Cordelia loved every moment of it as she moaned in masochistic ecstasy.

When they were finished, the anger from earlier was more manageable. He glanced at Cordelia laying on the couch, his release still on her stomach and face. She didn't wipe it off as if it was an honor to have his seed on her body.

"Clean yourself off." He commanded as he began dressing. "Your appearance isn't becoming, especially for a pureblood."

She sighed contently before answering in a teasing voice. "Yes, my lord."

Tom paused in the middle of fastening his belt. "What did you say?" The words had a strange effect on him. It was a better feeling than he ever got from her body.

Cordelia's playful tone was gone. She wondered if she had truly gone too far this time.

"I….I apologize. I thought you'd like it. I'll never say it again if you don't—"

"Call me that from now on. In private, of course." Tom walked to his desk and picked up a thick tome titled 'Salazar Slytherin: The Hidden Truth'.

"Go to the hospital wing and get your back healed. Tell them that you were in a fight. They'll believe you considering how many enemies you've made."

He sat down and opened the book to where he left off yesterday. "Oh, and tell our friends that I'm holding another meeting tonight. I expect everyone to be in attendance." With that, he began reading and didn't look back up at Cordelia as she dressed and left. He heard the door close a moment later with a quiet thud.

The Great Hall was filled with conversations during dinner. Tom sat at his usual place at the Slytherin table while his friends sat around him like the good little puppets they were. They all obeyed quickly without question. Even the seventh years knew not to cross him. However, at that moment, he barely paid his fellow Slytherins any attention.

In fact, he was currently watching the Hufflepuff table, or better yet, the brunette girl sitting alone. Tom had been watching her for some time now. She was also a sixth year and received high marks in all her classes. She had a soft natural beauty that made her stand out amongst the sea of mediocrity. He planned to introduce himself soon enough.

Movement at the staff table caused him to take his gaze off the Hufflepuff girl. Headmaster Dippet was standing with a solemn expression on his aging face. The conversations hushed as people waited for the man to speak.

"It has come to our attention that Grindelwald is once again on the move."

The expected gasps and whispers echoed across the hall. Tom merely looked on with indifference. He wasn't particularly fond of Gellert Grindelwald, but he could care less about the filth the man killed. However, he did take pleasure in Dumbledore's sudden discomfort. He could see the slight pain etched onto the professor's face at the mere mention of the name. Tom mentally filed that info away for later.

"Ten Muggles were murdered by Grindelwald and his followers earlier this evening. In respect of the lives lost, I ask that we all bow our heads." The professors bowed their heads and some of the students did the same.

Tom sneered at them. Why would they show compassion for those who were beneath them? Rats and insects didn't receive respect when they died, what made Muggles any different?

The headmaster sat down and the quiet conversations began in earnest. No doubt the Hogwarts student body was already speculating when Grindelwald would strike next.

Tom pushed the plate away and observed the people around him. As expected, no one spoke at the Slytherin table, though a few eyes turned in his direction.

Content with their silence, he stood up and left the Great Hall. He walked undisturbed to the seventh-floor room where everything was ready for his meeting tonight. The disgraceful display of both the professors and students proved once more that they were unworthy of calling themselves witches and wizards. Only he alone had the power to reshape the wizarding world and purge it.

Tom entered his headquarters and picked up the book he had poured over since he found it last year. Salazar Slytherin: The Hidden Truth was written by his ancestor months before his death. He claimed to have hidden a monster in an unspecified location. The only hint he gave was finding a snake who would lead the way. Salazar promised that the school would be cleansed by the monster of Slytherin—whatever it was. Tom was determined to finish what Salazar had started no matter what it took.

It wasn't long until the door opened and people started coming in. All of them wore black robes in place of their school uniforms. It was something he demanded they do during their first meeting. He preferred seeing them as soldiers to his cause rather than students.

Tom's group of faithful friends gathered around him and waited. The doors closed as the last person entered. Everything was silent in the large room except for a cauldron bubbling quietly in the corner. A moment later Tom pointed to the large Slytherin banner hanging over the stone fireplace.

"You all know what that is, do you not?" He asked and they nodded. "It's much more than a house banner with a crest. It is the promise I gave when you first came to me. The promise to make you powerful beyond your wildest dreams."

The group remained stiff though he knew they were following his every word. "This year I'm going to make good on that promise…" He held up Salazar Slytherin: The Hidden Truth for them to see. "This, my friends, is the beginning. With the help of this book, we will take over this school and rid ourselves of the unworthy once and for all."

There were a few soft murmurs, but only one person, a tall seventh year boy with blonde hair and aristocratic features, asked the question they were all thinking at that moment.

Abraxas Malfoy cleared his throat and took a step forward. "If I may ask…"

Tom raised a brow, but let him continue. Malfoy knew he had to choose his words carefully. "How will the book help us take over the school?"

The younger male chuckled and the sound sent chills down their spines. Abraxas bit his lip and prepared for punishment, but it didn't come. Instead, Tom turned to admire the banner once more. It was old, perhaps even at the school during the founders time. Salazar Slytherin probably looked up at it many times as it stood proudly in his study. Even though the fabric was ancient, the colours were still vibrant and glistened as if it was crafted yesterday.

"That's simple really." He grinned at them ominously. "We're going to use the book to open the Chamber of Secrets."

AN: Please read and review!