Autopsy Report: Tom Marvolo Riddle

On November 1st, 1981, one Tom M. Riddle, also known as Lord V*******t, of Riddle House, Little Hangleton, was found dead on the pavement of the main street of Godrick's Hollow. According to eye-witness reports, he had entered the Potter House. Two flashes of bright green were seen from the house shortly afterwards. Moments after the second green flash, eye-witnesses claim to have seen T. M. Riddle fly through the house's wall, from the second floor, breaking it in a loud crack, and landing on the street, aproximately one hundred feet away.

When found, T. M. Riddle displayed no signs of life. Additional charms revealed that his soul had left the body, however, whether it had passed on could not be determined due to severe interference. The time of death was determined as around eleven o'clock in the evening, 30th of October, 1981.

T. M. Riddle had sustained the following physical injuries: twelve broken teeth, a broken lower jaw, a cracked skull, causing a severe concussion, a broken neck, seven broken ribs, a broken right arm, a broken left knee, both ankles twisted and several minor breaks of the spine. He also displayed severe bruising in several parts of the body, most notably on his face, on his right cheek, where he was bleeding as well. Further investigation determined that his broken ribs had punctured the lungs and the aorta.

Conclusion: T.M. Riddle was most likely struck in the right cheek with a powerful strike, which threw him through the wall and across the street, where he then died, most likely from the broken neck.

"Harry! Harry! Wake up! Time for breakfast!"

Harry Potter avoke with a groan to knocking on his door. He checked his clock. Seven o'clock in the morning? Why were they waking up so early? It was late June, a Sunday in fact, which meant no school. They weren't going on a trip either. Which meant he would ordinarily just sleep in. So why was his aunt knocking on his door?

"Will you get up, or should I call your uncle?"

That woke him up, making him briskly jump out of bed. "I'm up!" he shouted back. His aunt, acknowledging his answer, went back down the stairs to the kitchen. The boy swayed on his feet, having gotten up to quickly. He leaned forward, on the nearest wall, for support, staring at the ground. His eyesight was still foggy when he looked up, meeting the gaze of a green-eyed boy of almost eleven years of age, with pale skin and black, untamable hair. Despite his age, the boy was short, a head shorter than most eleven-year-old boys, and he was slim, almost bony. It was at this point that Harry, having come to his senses from his delirious, half-asleep state, that the boy was, in fact, him and he was looking in his mirror. He felt the nightstand next to himself for his glasses, put the round-shaped spectacles on his nose and confirmed his suspicion: there he stood, in his blue and red pyjamas.

He smiled. "Good morning, mirror me!" He spun around on his feet, turning to have a look over his room. It was small, but the boy had everything he needed: his bed, providing him with a comfortable night's rest, his trusty desk, where many a homework had given him a headache, and the good old wardrobe, where he, underneath his garments, often hid his stash of candy. But the crown jewel of the room was the bookcase opposite the mirror. It was filled with comics, his prized collection.

Having performed his morning ritual of checking to see whether everything was still where it was the evening before, Harry quickly got dressed and exited his room. He sped down the stairs, skipping two stairs at a time, and turned towards the kitchen, passing the dining table. However, a voice stopped him just as he was about to reach it.

"Boy! Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oops!" Harry turned towards the dining table. "Good morning, uncle Vernon!"

Vernon Dursley was a man who would best be described as a walrus in human form: he was round, beefy with a fat face with hardly any neck, and his mustache added to this description. Despite his large, beefy and unintelligent look, Vernon was a successful businesman, the director of Grunnings Drills. The man, currently enjoying his morning tea, was a hard and unforgiving, especially towards his employees. There was only one thing he truly cared about: his family.

"Good morning, Harry, my boy," he greeted back, a smile gracing his face. "Now, go help your aunt with breakfast."

As his uncle went back to his newspaper, Harry made my way to the kitchen, where his aunt, Petunia, was already preparing beans. "Ah, Harry, you're finally up. Mind the beans, while I prepare the sasages, eggs and bacon."

Petunia, a complete physiological opposite of her husband, was a very thin woman. Whereas Vernon had almost no neck, hers was very pronounced and long. Behind her back, some people described her to look like a horse, with her big front teeth. Petunia was a housewife, a stay-at-home mother, who spent most of her time tending to their wonderful garden, organising the family finances or gossiping with the other housewives of the neighbourhood - she was proud to say that she had quite the informations network over Little Whinging, Surrey.

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked. "Why are we up so early? We're not going to church, are we?"

Petunia gave him an incredulous look. "You've forgotten? Don't you know what day it is?"

"Uh, Sunday?"

"Yes, Sunday, the 23. of June."

"Twenty-... oh!" Harry smacked his forehead. How could he have forgotten! It was his cousin's eleventh birthday! Vernon and Petunia had promised a very special day. And Harry forgot! "That's today?!"

"Yes, it's today," his aunt answered. "That's why we needed to wake up early. So we can have an outing to-..."

"The zoo! We're going to the zoo!" came a joyous shout as heavy, quick steps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Harry's cousin was his complete opposite. He was much taller and wider and, frankly, quite the fat child. Despite his round figure, though, Dudley Dursley was a tough boy, who packed quite a punch. With his size and strength, it was no surprise that he had been the school bully of their primary school, who was feared even by children two years his senior. Despite their differences in size, Harry and Dudley were, in fact, the same age, with Dudley being only five weeks older.

Dudley and Harry got along really well. They liked the same comics, the same music, were united in their loathing of homework and, though Harry didn't quite approve of Dudley's bullying, he was thankful to him that some of their seniors had left him alone due to his cousin's reputation. However, they did not share the same friends. Dudley's friends - or cronies, if you will - looked down on Harry - literally and figuratively - due to his small stature; they thought him weak and, were it not for Dudley, they would have bullied him for it. But they quickly learned not to speak ill of Dudley's cousin within his hearing distance.

Harry, on the other hand, didn't have that many friends. He just wasn't as 'charismatic' as his cousin. He found that he was quite good at football and made a few mates there. However, after the 'Incident', uncle Vernon forbade him from participating in sports. So, he mostly just hung out with Dudley.

A wholesome English breakfast was served on their dining table and the family dug in. They ate luxuriously, with all the males of the family taking double helpings. Vernon always said that a man needed his breakfast to keep him strong. Much to his displeasure, and to the displeasure of his wife, no matter how much they fed Harry, he remained small and lanky, despite eating the same portions as his cousin. It was a mystery to the family, one not even the doctors couldn't solve.

After breakfast, it was time for the birthday boy to receive his presents. The Dursleys were very well off and were not ashamed to flaunt it, by slightly spoiling their son and nephew. For his birthday, Dudley got a computer, a few games and comics, as well as a mobile telephone.

"You're going to Smeltings Academy this autumn, my son," Vernon explained. "If it were up to me, I'd just tell you to write home. The purpose of a boarding school is to make you your own man. But your mum insisted, so... But you get only one, so be sure to share with Harry, alright?" He put his hand on his son's shoulder. "You and your cousin are growing up quickly. It seems far away, but secondary school passes by within the blink of an eye. I want you to start thinking about what you want to do in life." He looked pointedly at Harry. "That goes doubly for you, boy." He straightened up. "Food for thought. Now, let's go to the zoo!"

They got dressed and went to their car. As Petunia and Dudley got in the car, however, Vernon grabbed his nephew by the shoulder and gave him a stern look. "Harry, my boy, a word. I know you... have problems with Dudley's friends. But this is your cousin's day, alright? No funny business."

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded.

"We talked about this after the... 'incident'. I needn't repeat myself, right?"

"No, uncle. We'll have a nice, normal family outing. Cross my heart."

Vernon nodded. "Good. Let's go."

Most of the visit to the zoo went as one would expect. The group, consisting of Vernon and Petunia, Harry, Dudley and Dudley's friends, Piers, Dennis, Gordon and Malcom, made a slow tour around, stopping at each cage. The kids, being energetic kids, quickly got bored by animals who weren't doing anything - one snake, in particular, comes to mind - and, Dudley's gang, being... well, themselves, made it a point to harass them about it.

As the visit was nearing its end, Harry excused himself to go to the loo. To be honest, he needed to get away from Dudley's friends, who had been shooting him threatening looks the whole visit. He couldn't stand it. The lanky boy needed to cool down. When he was washing his hands, he splashed his face with water. When he opened his eyes, he noticed, in the reflection on the mirror, that he was not alone.

"You know, runt, you really annoy me!" Dennis said, cracking his knuckles.

The four boys surrounded Harry, after Piers quckly made sure that they were alone. Harry scowled, backing up until he hit a wall. "Dudley wouldn't like what you're doing!"

"Dudley isn't here to protect you," Dennis continued. "I don't know why he does it. Maybe he isn't so tough. Maybe I should be the leader. I don't care why. I just want to teach you a lesson. That we don't like you, that you're a small, tiny, midget, a freak who makes Dudley soft."

Harry glared at him. "I'm not a midget!" he shouted.

The four laughed. "Did I hit a nerve? Midget!"

"I'm not small! Just a late bloomer!" the lanky boy shouted, clenching his fists.

"Ooh, look, mates!" Gordon mocked, feigning being intimidate. "You're getting him angry, and you wouldn't like him angry! Ha ha!"

Dennis stepped closer to Harry, his chest now close in front of Harry's eyes. "What are you going to do? Shout for help? Midget?"

Harry had enough at this point. He spun his right arm, fist clenched, and punched.

His ear hurt. Harry's ear really hurt. Uncle Vernon had a tight grip on it as he dragged him into the house. Dudley and Petunia followed them inside in silence. The man of the house led his nephew into his room and, finally, released his ear. Harry couldn't look him in the eyes. He had that look on his face, the one that meant he was really in for it.

"What. The. Bloody. Hell," his Uncle finally spoke, after minutes of tense silence. "What did we talk about before leaving!?"

"Uncle, I..."

"No, my boy, I'm not finished. What in the world pessessed you?! We had an agreement! 'No funny business', remember?!"

"He called me a midget."

"And you turned into a savage, in the middle of a public space, I might add! They were taken to hospital, for Christ's sake!" He rubbed his forehead. "I once told you to fight back ehenever someone pushes you around. This is not what I had in mind."

"But what was I supposed to do, Uncle? Let them call me names?"

"Punch them or push them back, just enough to make them see who's boss, scare them away! Or even better, call them names! Not almost kill them! And most certainly not in the middle of a family outing!" He sighed. "You're grounded for the rest of the day. Your aunt and I will discuss your punishment." He made his way to the door. He stopped just outside, turning to his nephew. "You know this is for your own good, right?"

In the end, Harry had to help his aunt around the house and with tending to the garden for the rest of the week. He wondered why his punishment was disproportionately lax. Maybe his caretakers were just glad that, for some reason, the parents of the four boys he had sent to hospital weren't pressing charges. Harry didn't understand and decided not to worry about it too much. He had a lot of other things on his mind.

On his cousin's birthday, uncle Vernon said he wanted them to think about what they wanted to do in life. Now, Harry had discovered he had few talents to speak of. At school, his grades were consistently average at best, he had no artistic talent and working hard wasn't his strong suit. He once got into a good schoolyard brawl, which he quite enjoyed... until his aunt and uncle were called to school in the aftermath. Dudley may have liked it, but they were not pleased. Not because he was fighting, but because of the... 'freakish strength'. It was the reason why he wasn't allowed to play football, or participate in any sports to begin with.

Harry's life was about to change, though, as he learned one fateful day, about a week before his eleventh birthday. It was a monday. The weather outside was sunny. Uncle Vernon had asked him to get their mail. There, amongst the bills and the advertisements, he found one peculiar letter addressed to him.

Harry Potter, Privet Drive 4, Little Whinging, Surrey, England

It was from: "Hog-warts, School of Witch-... craft and Wiz... Wizardry?" the boy wondered out loud as he privately looked at the letter, observing the fancy seal. He wondered whether he should ask his aunt and uncle about it, as it looked rather fishy. But they were busy at the moment, Petunia with breakfast and Vernon with reading his morning newspaper (and the occasional comments about the deteriorating situation in the Balkans - Harry caught something about a looming civil war). He didn't have to decide, though, as his cousin did it for him.

"Dad, dad, look!" Dudley shouted. "Harry's got a letter!"

Vernon looked up from his newspaper. "A letter? What is it about? Show me."

Harry handed his uncle a letter, who gave it only one look before scowling. "'Tunia!" he called his wife. She came from the kitchen and he showed her the letter. Petunia didn't react immediately, staring at it for a while, before gasping, covering her mouth with her hands and retreating back into the kitchen. Vernon looked after her for a few moments.

"What is it? What's going on?" Harry asked.

His uncle sighed. "It's nothing, my boy. This letter is just a prank, nothing more. You needn't worry about it."

"Then why is auntie Petunia so upset about it?"

Vernon didn't answer immediately, instead staring off into the room, trying to find the words. "Your mother... Your mother was the victim of a similar prank. The letter must have made Petunia remember some things. The good. The bad. Anyway, you needn't worry about this letter, alright?" He then threw the letter into the rubbish bin.

Harry had been living with the Dursleys for as long as he could remember. He never knew his parents, Lily and James Potter. And his aunt and uncle weren't very talkative about them. Whenever asked, Petunia would change the subject, saying that she wasn't in the mood to talk about it. And Vernon always said that he didn't know them well, having met them only four times in his life. He described them as decent folk, if a bit weird. As far as Harry knew, they were murdered in their own house when he was only a year old.

The Dursleys forgot about the strange letter... until the next day, when another arrived in their mail. It was the same in every way, seal and all. Now Harry got really curious. What was it about these letters that got his aunt so upset? Who was sending them. And why did his uncle forbid him ftom reading them, stating that he needn't worry about them.

One night, when he was passing their bedroom on his way to the bathroom, he heard them talking.

"Look, Pet, perhaps we should let him-..."

"No! Don't even suggest that! He can't... They can't..."

"They're very persistent, Pet. Maybe it would be good for him."

"No! They won't take him away too! He's all I have left of Lily!"

It was tuesday, the 30th of July, the day before Harry's birthday, when the strangest guest came. The morning was like any other. Harry got the mail, now automatically ignoring the strange letter that had come each day for the past few days. Then, the family had their quiet, wholesome breakfast. When they were relaxing, however, there was a knock on the door.

"Harry, get that, please," Vernon said, from behind his newspaper.

Harry gasped when he opened the front door, for in front of it stood a giant of a man, with a mane of shaggy black hair and a beard. He was absolutely massive. When he looked down at the boy, he smiled widely. "'Mornin'! Are yeh?... It's got ter be yeh!"

"Who is it, my boy!" Vernon called.

"Some door-to-door salesman!" Harry called back. "Has to be!"

The mountain of a man laughed heartily. "Oh, no, no! I'm no trader, am not! I'm here ter talk to yeh 'bout yer schoolin'! Yeh're Harry Potter, right?"

Since he knew his name, he must be telling the truth, Harry decided. So, he invited him in. The massive man bent down to enter, the doorway being too small for him. The boy led him to the living room where the rest of the family were relaxing. When the man entered, all stood up, startled by his size. Petunia gasped, while Dudley looked in awe at the giant man.

"Harry, what did I say about salesmen!?" Vernon scolded.

"He's not a salesman, uncle!" Harry protested. "He's from Smeltings Academy, here to talk about my schooling!"

"Smeltin's? No!" The man laughed. "Let me introduce meself. Name's Rubeous Hagrid. I'm the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts! The best wizarding school in the world!"

"Hog-... warts?" There was that name again. Harry wondered if the massive man was behind the prank. He certainly looked the part. "Is this some joke?"

"No, no joke, Harry!" He knelt down before him. "Yeh're a wizard, Harry. Same as yer mum and dad were."

"A wizard? I... I can't be a wizard. I'm... I'm just Harry."

The giant man laughed. "Well, jus' Harry, yeh're a wizard." He handed him a letter, the same one he had been receiving for over a week. "Now. 'Ere is yer acceptance letter."