Hello, and thank you for stopping by! My name is Carolynn, and I'll be your fic writer for this little story.

Everything belongs to the amazing J.K. Rowling.


The air was cool, a light breeze travelling the street. A group of small children ran towards him, their cloaks fluttering in the wind. Their faces were alight with laughter, cheeks rosy and eyes shining. He smiled as they sprinted past him, jumping into the waiting arms of their parents. Tom Riddle nodded to the tall man whose legs were restrained by a small child grasping them tightly. The man patted the child's head before nodding back to the cloaked man.

Tom's left arm twitched, a sharp pain shooting briefly up to his shoulder – a sure sign his fellow helpers would be here soon. Except he didn't need their help – he was capable enough to complete this on his own.

With renewed confidence, Tom Riddle strolled down the quaint path that led to the front door. He didn't bother knocking – that would only give the Potters more time. Pointing his wand towards the lock, he muttered an incantation, and small smile covering his lips as the door swung open.

He stepped over the threshold, he steps silent. Tom heard a flurry of movement in the room branching off the hallway. A door burst open to reveal Lily and James Potter, their wands at the ready. The arms hovered at the sight of Tom in the hallway, but remained where they were. Confusion covered their faces.

"I'm sorry," was all Tom said, before drawing his own wand.

Their faces dropped, the expressions becoming cold and hard. The truth hit them when Tom threw a bodybind jinx at them. Lily deflected it with a wave of her wand, while James retaliated with the Killing Curse.

Tom jumped out of the way, missing the jet of green light by inches.

He realised his mistake almost instantly. He should have waited for his friends, his back up.

The fight commenced, with two wands against one. Only with his superior reflexes and power did Tom manage to stay alive.

And then he began to get angry.

Who did these people think they were? Disrupting the peace, and torturing innocent people? And they had even brought a child into this world!

Enraged at what they had done, Tom let lose a howl of pure anger.

His wand acted along with him, letting lose a jet of red light that blinded Tom and filled his enter world. Tom's voice died, leaving silence in the hallway.

His eyes adjusted revealing the couple lying on the floor. Stumbling over to them, he gripped their arms feeling for a pulse. He found none. Only a few short minutes ago, they had lived, breathed. Now, because of him, they didn't. He was only supposed to bind them – not kill.

Tom had fallen to his knees. The guilt was eating him. What would his fellows say to him? They would hate him for committing this sin.

Tom looked up when he heard a scuffling noise outside the hallway. A small head poked through the doorway, an inquisitive look on his face. The boy had piercing green eyes, almost identical to Lily's. However, these ones were not filled with hate, only childish ignorance and curiosity.

Seeing his parents on the floor, he giggled and made his way over to them, thinking they were there to play.

As soon as he touched the cooling face of his father, he froze. Tom wondered whether he could sense that something was wrong. The toddler sat back on his bottom, his eyes filling with tears.

Tom's heart broke. He had just murdered this boy's parents.

Guilt and compassion ran through his veins, enticing him to pick the boy up. As Tom moved his arms closer to the boy – one hand stretched out to pat his forehead – the man saw the boy's eyes snap to his own and turn dark. His reflexes dulled by the onslaught of guilt, Tom saw this only when it was too late. Tom's fingers met the smooth skin of Harry's forehead, and the man's world burst into pain.

It was like every fibre of his being was ripped apart and trampled by a million rampaging centaurs. He was being boiled in the hottest of potions. He hurt, and screamed and swore until he couldn't anymore. The pain still wracked his body even when unconsciousness had come. His body jerked and twitched before he gave a shuddering gasp, and he become still.


His comrades found him ten minutes later. He was breathing, but there was no further evidence of life.

They took him and the boy to their complex. Tom Riddle did not wake. It was almost as if he had been kissed by a dementor. No one knew what to do with him. What could they do with their colleague and friend?

They left the boy with his last remaining relatives – the Durselys. The boy had slept comfortably in the small basket they had placed him in that lay upon the front step. A small latter covered his body – a letter that explained who and what he was, and where his future would take it.

The letter did not cover the lightning bolt shaped scar that marked his forehead.


The first chapter should be up very soon. I do hope you enjoyed it.

If you're a tad confused, things should be cleared up soon.