One liquid moment…
Midnight fell over the castle. The star-spattered sky stretched out, almost draping itself over the tall, turreted building. The vast lawns emitted a dusky blue-green haze. The familiar sounds lay about. Owls hooted softly, the lake lapped gently onto the bank. An open window on one of the towers let a small stream of thick, gold light wheedle through. A boy was sitting behind it, holding a lamp.
Shadows accentuated the contours of his face, seemingly carving out his symmetrical features. He smiled into the night. It was an odd thing to do, perhaps. There was no one to smile for, and was an almost pointless gesture. The boy, however, did not seem to care. This was it, everything was in place, and the night had never looked more perfect. He traced a line down his face with a long finger, and breathed in. His lips formed familiar words. One liquid moment, one breath. They were only for him, only for this night; he couldn't have explained to anyone what they meant. Clichés presented themselves to his mind, but the boy rejected them. Tonight was unique; tonight couldn't be written in a greeting card. Laughter bubbled spontaneously from his lips. What was this feeling? He'd never felt anything like it.
Growing up without parents, he'd always known the difference between him and the others. This constant inadequacy snagged at him. They'd rule him, the other children; even his friends would take charge over him. A small boy, skinny, with dark hair. A lonely boy, confused and angry. Subconscious struggles deep inside him sometimes gave the handsome face a pained look. Discovering the secret in his genes, the very fibre of his being, had changed him. He wasn't just anyone anymore. He was a wizard. Growing older, he had not been short of friends. There was something about the gross determination, or bravery, that he had. It attracted a certain type. The house he'd been sorted in helped too. He ached for something, though. He ached for freedom, and power.
Now, looking out through the small shaft, he recognised what the feeling was. This is freedom, he thought, this is my eternity.
Tom riddle smiled into the dark. Perfection. That was what this was. Tom was awake when the whole world was sleeping; Tom was alive as they dreamed their dreams. One day they would cower in fear of him. Things would begin to be the way they should be. Like a tiny glow worm somewhere down, he felt it inside. These secret powers would define him. He was doing something divine, and quintessentially important. They needed someone to rule them, even if they didn't know it yet. Someone needed to keep order. One liquid moment, one breath. That's all it could be, dying, that's all it would ever have to be. Tom could do that. More than magic, it was stronger, far more powerful. To be able to enjoy it. No one could ever understand quite what it felt like for him.
The night was silent, now. Now owls hooted, the lake was perfectly still. But something new hung in the air. The light was extinguished. Tom riddle fell asleep. He wouldn't remember his dreams in the morning.
