It is a fallacy- incidentally a very common one- to suppose that genetically inherited traits are by definition fixed and unmodifiable. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am not my father. I am not Voldemort. This is my story.
I was born on October 31st, 1981. I do not know who my mother was. I barely know who my father was. All I know is that on the day I was born, Lord Voldemort disappeared from the face of the earth.
I was born in darkness. I'm not dramatically exaggerating the circumstances of my coming, my mother gave birth to me in a cell no larger than an average closet. Why was she in a cell you ask? I will tell you, but you won't like it.
It all started when the Dark Lord first heard of the prophecy. At the risk of possible demise, he immediately began preparation for the possible destruction of his mortal body. Somehow, he had found a way to expand his own life beyond his physical form. That is where I come in.
You see, Voldemort refused to admit it openly, but he knew that a stray spell could easily take him out. Entrusting the secret to a select few, he set upon… 'breeding' a new and perfect body to take as host. And for a few years, he collected witches of extraordinary power and began… experimenting with them. As stubborn as the Dark Lord was, he would not accept anything less than the best for himself, choosing to create children through magic. Imbuing the captured witches with dark and evil magic, dozens of failed children were made, and were rid of just as quickly.
It had to be perfect. The right height, the ideal build. It needed to be both charming yet terrifying. It needed to inspire devotion and hatred. He sought to be a god, and desired to look the part. At that point, his creation seemed more and more like it would be his eventual host, not simply a spare.
And then, he had a different objective in mind. Elimination of threats entirely. Still frustrated by the fruitless endeavors of creation, he sought to quickly take care of the potential threat so that he could focus only on the task at hand.
October 31st, 1981. I was born. Doctor Wulfer Frankinstane, a half-blood wizard who was kidnapped specifically for the purpose of this project, deemed me to be the perfect product. Finally, a form worthy of the Dark Lord himself! Immediately, he attempted contact with the Dark Lord. 3 Death Eaters were sent searching for him, while another 4 were left to guard the doctor and me.
The Dark Lord never came.
It's been a decade since that fateful night. My mother passed away, the strain from all the evil magic imbued in her was too much. I never got to know who she was, or even her name. But by the instruction of the Dark Lord, I was to be named Tom. Tom Riddle. It is a curse that I was to bear. The legacy I never wanted.
What will happen to me now? I have not the faintest idea. But this morning, I received an owl, carrying with it my acceptance letter for Hogwarts.
My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am not my father. I am not Voldemort. This is my story.
A/N: I have received permission to continue this story from the original author. I do not own Harry Potter.