Prologue
Tom Riddle was a very peculiar boy. His classmates thought so.
Tom Riddle was a wonderful student, full of potential. This was what most of his teachers said.
Tom Riddle was not normal. Few people knew what this meant.
What all of the above didn't know was that, wherever he went, destruction was left in his wake. It was a mere coincidence, people would say. How could Tom – sweet, kind Tom – be the cause of so many tragedies?
But their eyes would cloud over. A pleasant smile would take place. These people had known what Tom Riddle was capable of. They had been privy to his unusual talents in the worst of circumstances and now there wasn't anyone who could speak up. There was no one to tell what that boy was capable of.
Would they have believed them, anyways? At seventeen, Tom had made himself a reputation. In spite of being a Slytherin, he was respected by the other Houses and loved by the teachers. His marks spoke wonders of him – many had bets as to where he would go after Hogwarts. He could do anything, though he had never displayed liking to a particular area.
In other words, Tom Riddle was perfect.
The truth was far more sinister than anyone could've known. Yes, Tom Riddle was perfect in many aspects, but this perfection only masked what was behind that bashful smile of his.
In a different lifetime, he could've swayed. Had he not found the chamber, had he not succumbed to his thoughts, had someone– anyone – tried to just talk with him – everything could've been avoided.
In this life, it didn't work out that way. In this life, he found out he was special.
Not particular.
Not unusual.
Not remarkable – but special.
If not, how could the Voice have found him, then? How could it have whispered to him how magnificent he could be; how he, Tom Riddle Jr. – son of Tom Riddle Sr. and Merope Gaunt, descendant of Salazar Slytherin – could change the world if he wanted to.
Can I stop death? He'd asked the Voice.
And the Voice, after a long pause, replied, If you truly desire so.
Tom Riddle did not think twice as he set his plans forward. Pitying, but he'd known from a very early age that sacrifices must me done in order to achieve greatness. And now, he'd be unstoppable.
It had never occurred to him his plans could be, if not stopped, derailed. And he'd certainly never seen the bane of his existence in – of all things – a little girl.