The mist rose from the ground in wisps of cool vapor. The dark man, cloaked by shadows, inhaled the clean air deeply. His arms tingled with adrenaline. Tonight was the night he had dreamed about since he was a young boy of eleven and discovered the truth of his parentage. Now he was an adult and was able to fulfill his fantasies for the past six years.
His skills were to become the thing of legends, his name was to go down in history, and he knew that from the first day inside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was destined to do great things. He was going to be the one to bring the wizarding world back to its former glory; back before the mudbloods had driven them into hiding.
Even the thought of mudbloods made him yearn for action. It caused his arms to become tingly and energetic. But that was the difference between he and those muggles; all they had was their physical skills, he had the ability to inflict terrible pain without touching them. And he loved it.
The man stood outside the large, stone fence surrounding the house, surveying it. He had just been to see his uncle, Morfin Gaunt. The man was a disgrace; what ran in his blood was more than what could be hoped for. In his blood ran that of the extraordinary Salazar Slytherin, and the miserable excuse for a wizard chose to do nothing but brag about it. But it was no matter; the man had a mission to do.
In a fluid motion he motioned his wand to open the large iron gate and it disintegrated, only to reform after the man passed through. He walked slowly and nobly towards the front door, his head held high. When he reached the door he lifted his hand and knocked on the large serpent headed doorknocker.
The man smiled to himself; how ironic that he muggle have a snake on his door. It could almost be considered premonition, if only such a thing existed in muggles.
A man whose hair was just beginning to turn grey, whose ears and nose had kept growing while the rest of him had not, and whose eyes sparkled with the pleasure of living a life without concern of others, answered the door.
His smile faded as he started at the mirror image of himself, twenty years ago. They had the same nose, same jaw, and same eyes. Even the hair was the same. But there was an eerie nature to this young man, something he had never felt in another human before. But perhaps it was just the fact that he was looking at the spitting image of himself.
"May I help you?" The older man asked intimidated by the dark hood the young man hid under.
"Yes, I'm looking for Mr. Tom Riddle," the young man said, with the air of a parent who has caught their child in a lie, yet questions them about it anyway. "Are you him?"
The young man's voice was not what Tom Riddle had expected; it was pleasant and casual. His voice contradicted with his dark cloak and shadowed face. Tom Riddle was taken aback.
"Yes, who are you?" Tom Riddle asked cautiously.
"Well you see, my name is also Tom Riddle. In fact, I was named after you. May I come in?"
Before Tom Riddle Senior could answer the young Tom strode inside the house. Tom Riddle Junior walked past the foyer and into the living room while Tom Riddle Senior stared after him. He had an idea who this young man was, but it terrified him so much he repressed the thoughts.
Once inside the parlor Tom Riddle junior took off his dark robe and looked around. "Do you have company?" he asked pleasantly as he saw the three glasses sitting on the coffee table.
"Yes, my mother and father live here."
"Ah, of course," the young man said.
Tom Riddle senior paused, "You act like you already knew that," he accused, becoming braver.
Tom Riddle junior ignored this and said, "Please bring your mother and father in. I know they must be in the vicinity. I need to speak with you all." He smiled pleasantly.
"I'll go call them." Tom Riddle senior backed slowly out of the room, scared to reveal his back to the strange and intimidating man. While he was gone, Tom Riddle junior searched the room for anything that could be of value to him, but found nothing. He sat down and poured himself a glass of brandy that was sitting on the table in front of him while he waited for his father to retrieve his grandmother and grandfather that he knew were in the room directly above him.
The young man took out his wand and began to caress it; he loved his wand. It was something that set him apart from the filthy muggles, it made him superior. This wand was about to perform his first deadly act, and it practically quivered with anticipation.
He smiled to himself. His haltered of this family excited him. Not only were the muggles, but they also hated magic. They had driven out his mother when they discovered what she was. They were weak and stupid, and he was going to prove what magic could really do. This man that had opened the door, he refused to acknowledge him as father, had abandoned a pregnant woman and child. He would pay. He would pay…
The young man was growing impatient. The longer the muggles prolonged speaking to him the more he would prolong their deaths. They would feel pain. Finally all three arrived into the sitting room and Tom Riddle junior introduced himself. Then he began.
"I was wondering if you recalled a woman named Merope Gaunt?"
"What has that harlot done now?" the old woman spat. Tom Riddle junior raised his eyes at their reaction. But he was only playing with them, he knew far more than even they did. He wanted them to believe that he was as uneducated as they were.
"You dislike her?" He asked, innocently.
"My son could have had a wonderful, successful, marriage with Cecilia and she took him away; he was bewitched by her! Eventually he came to his senses but it was too late. Cecilia was a very attractive girl and had many connections, someone had taken her away. Now he's grown to be an old man!" The father said, disgusted at what his sons life had become.
"Why did you leave her?" Tom Riddle junior asked casually.
"We conceived him not too! She was a tramp, a disgrace to our reputation!" The old woman answered.
"I was talking," Tom Riddle junior said menacingly, "To Tom."
Fear filtered across the old woman's face and she reached for her husband's hand to comfort her. She resolved to speak no more while this man was in her son's house.
"I- I never loved her. I still don't know why I married her. Like my mother said… she bewitched me…" Tom Riddle senior stammered.
Tom Riddle junior stood up and began to pace, further intimidating his hosts. "You say she bewitched you… Was she claiming to be a witch?"
"Yes, yes she did. But she was insane!" Tom Riddle senior protested.
"Well you see… Merope Gaunt is my mother."
The Riddle family stared at their lost member, stunned.
"She had a son?" The father asked. The mother looked as though she wanted to speak, but she bit her lips so they turned white.
"Yes, yes she did. And I am that son. I am also," Tom Riddle flourished his wand so a fountain of bubbling water came out, "A wizard. Just like my mother was a witch." His tone was still casual, but the Riddles could feel the anger building behind it. Even though they had been weary of this strange man, this was the first time they had felt truly frightened.
"She was really a witch?" Tom Riddle senior whispered.
"Yes, and you're a filthy muggle. Our world should be rid of your kind," his son sneered.
"What do you want? Some money or something?" The Grandfather demanded. "Because, if not, I want you OUT OF THIS HOUSE!"
"AVADA KADAVRA!" Tom Riddle junior shouted, and, with a blinding green flash, his grandfather was dead.
The boy could feel his heartbeat thumping in his neck. He was furious. How dare this muggle treat him in such a way?
The grandmother screamed. "Do not mourn over him," Tom Riddle junior snarled, "His death was not nearly as painful as your sons will be," he grinned menacingly.
The old woman gasped and Tom Riddle senior winced.
"Now, why did you abandon her? Was your own life better than that? My mother was weak, yes, but you destroyed her. I thought you were a wizard for years, then I traced my history. My understanding for abandoning us disappeared. I thought perhaps you were talented and she was holding you back. But now I see that you're the talentless one, you have no skills. She had the blood of Salazar Slytherin in her veins! One of his last descendents! She could have rid our world of your kind! CRUCIO!"
Tom Riddle junior took pleasure in watching his father squirm and writher in pain. He enjoyed the blazing look of one on fire in his eyes. He even took content in his grantmother's screams.
With a flick of his wand the curse was revoked. "Now, apologize."
"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!" Tom Riddle senior shouted.
"I'm afraid it's far too late for that. I've intended to kill you ever since I discovered the truth about you. YOU FILTHY MUGGLE! CRUCIO!" He let his father twist in agony for over a minute while he stared at his grandmother, contemplating what to do with her.
"Should I torture you? After all, this scum is your doing."
"No… No… please! Have mercy!" the woman put her hands over her face, as if they would protect her.
"Have mercy… yes, I am a merciful man. Lord Voldemort is merciful…"
"Lord… what? You're royalty?"
"Not in the sense of your stupid, primitive, muggle ways. But yes, I am the most powerful wizard alive. I'm young, and look what I can do to my own father. Imagine what I could do to others like you… Not that being my father changes my feelings toward him, if anything it makes me hate him more. After all, my stupid mother gave me my common name after him. I had to choose a more suiting name for myself, and all that I will become. People must know my name, and remember it. Lucky for you, you're the first to hear it. Unfortunately, it will be the last thing you ever hear."
The woman's eyes lit up, realizing what was about to come.
"Lord Voldemort," he whispered. "AVADA KADAVRA!"
"Now for you… my father…"
"Please… please…" the man whimpered.
"You beg for death? Or for life? Begging… It's weakness."
"I am weak… I am weak… you're more powerful than I am…"
"Yes, I am," Lord Voldemort laughed. "I'm glad you see it… Now… you're death."
He stared one last time into his father's eyes before a blinding green light consumed the room.
"There, it is done. My first kill," Lord Voldemort smiled to himself. There were many more deaths to come.
He stepped out from behind the shadows of the tree outside the large fence.
Now it was time to return to the disgraceful Gaunts, and convince them that the death of the Riddles was, indeed, their doing. The weak minded were easy to manipulate. Tomorrow he would travel to the Leaky Culdron to wait for his return to Hogwarts. He would finish his final year searching for all the secrets of Hogwarts he had yet to uncover, then he would set out in the wizarding world to fufill his mission. He was truly destined for legend.