From above average wizard to Dark Lord. What happened in-between? Who were the people who influenced him? Who taught him all he knew? The journey to the top was not as lonely as some would think...

This story is linked to my other story "The Last Riddle" but it's not necessary to read it first, since this story is some sort of prequel to the trilogy.

Disclaimer: The characters and situations in the Harry Potter world belong to me as much as Microsoft belongs to Napoleon Bonaparte.
Without further ado, I give you... Into the Dark

Prologue

Tom stared at the gate surrounding the orphanage while absently fiddling with his thumbs. He was sitting on a bench across the street, not wanting to go back in.

He'd left the horrid place in the evening two days before, when he managed to glean enough money from his trunk to spend the nights at the Leaky Cauldron, but now he was stark broke and would have to return home if he didn't want to starve. He scoffed at the thought. It was late at night already, but he knew the matron wouldn't be worried about him… it wasn't the first time he ran away for a short period of time, so she knew he knew how to take care of himself.

Nah, Mrs. Cole was more worried about her precious orphanage's reputation than his welfare. It had always being that way, ever since the first time Tom had shown his freakish abilities. She hadn't had the heart to throw him out back then. He had been still a tiny boy –a freak, but a small child nonetheless. Besides, she couldn't afford people finding out she'd been throwing out children just because they were different, lest they think her a racist, or worse, abusive. The orphanage wouldn't have had enough money to fight with if they were sued.

Mr. Cole, on the other hand, had never bothered to hide his disgust for Tom, his fear of him, and Tom had learned to avoid the older man, lest he went berserk on him like he'd seen him go on some of the older boys (who refused to leave at eighteen and provide for themselves) and, occasionally, a girl. It was a miracle Tom had avoided him so far, but only because he knew when to run.

Like two days ago.

A week before, he had arrived at King's Cross on the Hogwarts Express, fresh from fourth year and already in a foul mood because he would have to return to that stinking orphanage. Dumbledore had, once again, convinced Dippet that it was best if Tom didn't stay at Hogwarts during the summer, because at the orphanage he had the unique opportunity of interacting with Muggles in an everyday environment. Dippet, the idiot that he was, couldn't be shaken out of his resolve anymore and so Tom found himself alone in King's Cross again.

As expected, no one had been there to pick him up. Ever since he could remember he'd had to look after himself, mainly because there were many more orphans infinitely more stupid than your everyday dolt and the orphanage's short staff had to keep an eye on them all. Oh, don't worry about Tom Riddle, he's a smart boy; just make sure he's eaten something and then leave him to his own devices. Come help me with Mildred now, her hands are all muddy and she's dirtying her dress….

Tom scoffed again and stuck his hands in his coat's pockets. So it was summer, alright, but at night there was always a chill running about in this side of London. He blamed it on his apparent horrid luck.

Completely against his will, he had taken three buses and walked for about an hour to get to the orphanage, dragging his trunk everywhere, thank you very much. He hadn't had money to spare for a cab. He planned on charging Dumbledore for it the next time he saw the aging goat, since he had been the one to insist Tom had a unique opportunity to spend time with Muggles and getting to understand them.

By the time he reached St. Mary's Orphanage it was already late at night, so he was mildly surprised when the door swung open when he arrived at the gate and an eighteen year old was flung out of the building with a black eye, a satchel and a scowl.

"…and fed you for twelve years, you ungrateful rat!" Mr. Cole's voice had been barking. "Find a bar that is willing to hire a talentless slab of meat like you and get out of our lives!" Then he had spotted Tom standing shell-shocked at the gate and had snapped at him as well. "And you're next!" the man had vowed, and then he had stepped back into the orphanage and shut the door so violently that the windowpanes shook.

Tom winced at the noise as the two teenagers were left in near absolute darkness. A couple of lampposts weren't enough to light up the whole street. The eighteen-year-old, a guy Tom knew as Joel, was now at the gate, sneering down at him.

"Good luck with the oaf, freak," he'd said. Ah, yes… everyone's favourite nickname for him. Freak. "And he's serious, by the way. He threw out Matthew and Farine while you were away. Now that I'm out, you're the eldest kid they've got. Give it a week and if he doesn't kill you, you'll become a street rat."

Tom had raised an eyebrow. "Speaking from personal experience, are you?" he'd asked disdainfully, trying to cover up his curiosity. Matthew and Farine had been sixteen.

Joel had tried to hit him them, but Tom was faster and had ducked out of the way, jumping beyond the gate and snapping it shut behind him. Joel had shaken the bars to get to him but the door remained locked. He'd kicked the gate once and then walked off.

Tom had shaken his head and resumed his walk to the inside of the building, but had turned around sharply when something hit the gate and bounced back to the pavement. A rock. He'd snickered and glanced at Joel's retreating back.

"Perfect aim!" he'd called after the older boy. "Maybe next time, if you try really hard, you'll hit the neighbours!"

He'd laughed at Joel's helpless cry of frustration and peeked into the orphanage's foyer, making sure Mr. Cole was gone, before stepping in and locking the door behind him. He hadn't noticed the dark shadow across the street, smoking a pipe and watching all that had transpired, before it disappeared without a sound.

Later that same week, Mr. Cole had snapped at Dennis Bishop for asking for money to buy a bigger pair of shoes. He'd threatened the fourteen-year-old with throwing him out if he wasn't more considerate about the orphanage's current economical crisis. Tom had known then why Mr. Cole had been throwing out the eldest children in the orphanage. He was next.

Two days ago, hell had broken out when Mrs. Cole had seen Tom reading a seemingly new book that in reality was a second-hand book Tom had repaired with magic at Hogwarts. The old cat hadn't believed he'd gotten it at his school's library, and Mr. Cole had heard the racket, hence, he had barked at Tom and gotten so angry that he'd begun throwing things at him, threatening to beat him into a pulp if he got his hands on him. Tom had been forced to lock himself up in his own room, scourge his trunk for money and basic items, then made a run for it.

Tom sighed. And now he was back. He didn't know how he was going to survive on his own for a long period of time if Mr. Cole hadn't calmed down and threw him out again as soon as he set a foot inside the building. Two weeks was the longest time he had spent away from the orphanage, but he hadn't been alone. There was no way he could pull through the whole summer.

He straightened up abruptly when he heard a small snap and peered into the darkness. The street seemed desolate but he knew better… he wasn't alone anymore. He stood up slowly and curled his left hand around his wand's handle before taking a tentative step towards the gate around the orphanage. Nothing surged forward so he advanced a few more paces until he was standing in the middle of the street. Turning his head left and right he still saw nothing but jogged up to the gate all the same.

When he reached the building's door still nothing had happened. He was beginning to think he had finally gone paranoid when he saw the shadow. He jumped back and hit the door with his shoulders, he blinked and then… it was gone.

He rubbed his eyes and looked again but the thing really was gone… or maybe there hadn't been anything there, and he was hallucinating because of lack of sleep or hunger. Somehow he knew he was lying to himself.

Not really wanting to know if he was right or wrong, he forced the door open and disappeared into the foyer.