Summary: Tom Sr. returns to his family only to realize he had made a mistake…leaving all he knows he decides to raise his son with a firm hand. But fate decides to bring a terror more evil than Voldemort in his son's stead. AU

A/N: This story will start from the birth of Tom Marvolo Riddle to the end of Harry's seventh year.

Prologue

(At the Riddle Manor)

They laughed, drank wine, smoked cigars, and danced…Tom thought he could have lost himself forever in this world. At least a year ago he thought he could.

"Tom, what are you thinking?" The lady who whispered softly in his ear all night asked her soft skin brushing against him.

"About loneliness…pity," his tone somber, his looks grave, she recoiled a scowl clear on her visage. Tom sighed heavily before standing up, her hand reached out to him but he swatted it back. He looked at her disgusted at himself for ever touching her blonde hair or looking into her green eyes which momentarily flashed grey and the image of Merope's horrified stare when he decided to leave came back to him.

"Tom!"

He ran through the crowded ballroom to the hallway his father was by the entrance saying goodbye to a couple of guest who were leaving hoping to escape with them Tom attempted to leave at their side.

"Son, where are you going?"

His attempt failed turning to his father who stood by the door staring at his son who was at the foot of the steps little by little being drenched by the rain that had only begun to pour.

"What are you doing, son?" His eyes looked painfully at him.

"You always taught me," Tom began looking forward his fist clenched "if I could take responsibility for my actions it would make me a better man."

His father could make out the side of his son's face, determined he was it took him aback to see such a countenance on his young boy. Baffled he could only mumble, "But its New Years…"

What happened next he would remember forty years later in his deathbed with pride and tears he was sorry he had not shown his son when he had the chance to. Tom Riddle smiled sheepishly at him.

"Sorry, Dad. I don't think I'll be coming back."

He didn't know where he was going at first, wondering what had suddenly come over him he was both scared and excited at the idea. Hoping that his parents would be proud of him when he settled down with his new wife and unborn child strengthened his resolve. He boarded a ten o'clock train to his old flat in London where he believed he and Merope resided. When he arrived he was surprised to see the apartment abandoned. The landlord had shouted at him for intruding but told him after much persistence on Tom's part the directions to an Orphanage where he last saw Merope ten blocks away.

"Thank you, thank you," Tom bowed repeatedly out of breath and flushed from the lack of protection from the ruthless rainstorm.

The Orphanage was the only building lit on the block and it was easy for him to spot. Barely containing his glee upon its discovery he opened the door before knocking which frightened the young nuns near the entrance.

"I'm sorry to intrude," Tom exhaled sharply, "but is Merope—Gaunt here?"

The nuns looked at each other before one stepped forward her head bowed, "Please come with me sir."

He nodded and followed her trying not to exceed her steps.

"Are you the father?" She asked somewhat harshly.

"Yes—yes, has she already given birth?"

"She's in labor right now…but I suggest that you do not scare her with your presence."

He cocked an eyebrow not liking her tone but said nothing against it when the nun gestured him to the door where Merope was most likely giving birth to his child. As he walked in an agonizing scream pierced his ears.

"Merope? Merope!" He lunged towards the curtain that veiled Merope's bed, the nun tried to restrain him but he shoved her out of his way. Pulling the curtain back he fell to his knees his head on Merope's stomach.

"Is this the father?" The mid wife looked at him curiously holding the child in her hands.

Tom now had Merope's head in his hands shaking her hoping to God that her eyes would open to embrace him. "Wake up," he spoke softly, "I'm here, I'll take care of you and our child, I promise. I was such a fool." How come he never noticed before how her skin glowed? His tears rolled down his face and on her cheeks that turned deathly white.

"Mr. Riddle?"

He looked back at the midwife who gave his son to one of the nuns to bathe, "Before she died she said she'd like to name the child, Tom Marvolo Riddle, after you I assume."

He nodded his head turning back to the woman whom he held fiercely in his arms, "Yes—yes, whatever she wants…"


Thank you for reading the prologue to my story. Please review and tell me what you think. I want this to chronicle Tom Riddle Jr.'s entire life...so I hope you'll join me.