So this is an experiment, an idea that won't leave my head! I won't continue if no one responds to it! So if you want an update, I've got to get reviews!

"If you close your eyes, you see darkness.

But if you keep them closed long enough,

You'll see light"

-Effy Stonem

Lilliana Moira Potter lay broken on the dirty, wooden floor. Blood poured profusely from her mouth and nose as it ran across the floorboards. Pain ran through every part of her body, penetrating her to the core, filling and spreading with each passing second. Her body shook violently, cold tremors going down her spine. Even as a child she knew there was something wrong. She was dying. And maybe it was better that way, death seemed like an enjoyable outlet. That maybe if she closed her eyes long enough, embraced the darkness rather than fear it, she would see the light.

Filth.

Wicked.

Disgusting.

Evil.

The words poured maliciously from the headmaster's mouth. She was nothing, scum, weak and something that needed to be stamped out. She was a flaw in human nature, the child of Satan clothed in human skin. Something inside of her was different, a power of sorts. She could do things that other children couldn't do, make them hurt, make things disappear when she wanted. Something was wicked inside of her, and it was the noble duty of the headmaster to beat it out of her. But no amount of beatings and starvings would help, because even now, clothed in dirty rags, skin stained in blood, body broken, something powerful reverberated through her being, her very essence, and it frightened her. Maybe he was right; maybe she was nothing more than scum that needed to be destroyed.

Three days she had been locked in this cellar, three days with no light, no food, no water, wallowing in her own urine and feces. Tears streaked down her skin, her eyes surely bloodshot and skin bruised. Lilliana told herself every night, that if she was good enough her parents would come back to get her. But no one ever came, and it was because she was horrid. She was nothing but a horrid child and a freak. She knew they could never love her, she knew that was why they gave her up. Somehow they knew she was a bad seed, something off.

Pain was something familiar, almost calming and reassuring. Without pain the world didn't make sense. While she hated every kick and blow, she craved it, craved it to feel alive, to feel normal. She deserved this, she deserved everything she got. She even prayed at night for God to save her soul, to banish that which was evil that infected her being. She prayed every night, every single night with her rosary clutched between her fingers. She didn't know if there was a God, but she hoped there was, because only He could make right that which was wrong, only he could save her soul.

Suddenly the floor disappeared as a hand grabbed her tiny arm and hauled her roughly upwards. A hot breath was on her neck as she smelled the stench of the headmaster. He always smelled of something awful, but not that she could put a finger on it.

"Come on, you shithead," he spoke harshly as he dragged her up the stairs.

White light blinded her vision and she cried out as she covered her face. Discomfort engulfed her senses as it overtook her completely. As he continued to drag her down the hallway, she noticed the grimaces of the other children as they backed away. She once heard someone talk of the Scarlet Letter, and she wondered if this was what the poor lady felt like, desperate and yet isolated from the world because of her sin.

Finally they reached her room and he threw open the door. The headmaster then roughly shoved her into the wall, getting on his knees to come to her eye level. His overweight body pressed into her underfed one, his face too close to her own. She knew that while she was wicked and evil, there was something off about him as well. There was something disgusting about him.

"Now, are you ever going to take that which isn't yours ever again?" He hissed at her.

She quickly shook her head, terror flooding inside her.

"No no, I promise, I'll never take extra food again!" she said pleadingly. "I promise, I promise," she repeated over and over again.

He smiled sickly at her in return, relishing her fear.

"Good girl my little Lilly," he said in her ear before leaning in closer and licking her slowly up the side of her face.

She shuddered under his touch as he chuckled lowly.

"You're such a wicked little girl, my little Lilly," he said darkly looking into her eyes.

She just sobbed silently, praying soon he would just push her to the ground and leave her alone. Hitting and kicking, even when she was whipped was familiar, but this, every time he got the look in his eyes she knew he wanted something else. And it terrified her.

"Touch me," he commanded darkly but quietly.

She cried even more, knowing full well what he wanted. He had done this before.

"Please, please, please," she cried over and over again.

Why couldn't God just kill her already?

Suddenly his hand gripped her chin harshly as he forced her to look at him.

"Touch me, you worthless whore," he hissed before slapping her hard.

With shaky hands and tears dripping, she put her hands in his trousers going downward until she felt what he wanted her to touch.

"Yes," he groaned aloud as she caressed him.

With every stroke, she felt that power growing and gnawing, clawing her alive.

With every stroke she felt that wickedness consuming her.

With ever stroke she felt her innocence die away.

…

Somewhere under the floorboards, a soul, fragmented, torn and ripped heard everything taking place. The sixteen year old boy felt his magic whip dangerously around him with each groan the perverted bastard made. But he felt something else too, a different magic pulling and calling to him. That little girl was a witch, and her magic was wild and rampant. He had never felt such magic before, aside from Dumbledore, but something was different about hers. There was something darker, something much more sinister at the core.

Tom Riddle didn't believe in morality, only power. Right and wrong was merely nothing more than one's perception of reality. And while he would never assault a child sexually, a thought, a truly wicked and cruel thought entered his mind. The girl's magic was so dark no doubt due to years of abuse and survival, and moreover she was a Potter, bound to be powerful anyways. He could take that, take advantage of her power and drain her, getting free from the damned diary.

He could take everything from her and it would be the sweetest of revenge. The death of a Potter, a direct descent of Godric Gryffindor, to ensure life of the Heir of Slytherin. The Old Fool would burn with hatred and guilt for ever putting her in the orphanage to begin with.

Suddenly something happened, an explosion of magic, so raw and wild it made his head burn. Screaming in agony of such exposed magic, he fell to the floor writhing. Wave after wave hit him as he lost all sense of reality and suddenly something fell on his forehead, something sticky and wet. Slowly putting his fingers to feel the substance, he saw red dripping between them. Blood, a lot of blood, and magic too.

And suddenly his body was ripped away, spiraling to something unknown as he finally hit something hard. As his eyes opened, all he could see was blood. It was everywhere, running thickly against the wooden floors, all on the walls, even splattered on the ceiling. His eyes searched the room until they landed on a figure, a man grotesquely ripped open, from navel to chest, his intestines splayed out, and his organs spilling.

Then a sound was heard, a faint crying. Slowly turning around, he came face to face with the child. The child was a girl, and even smaller than he imagined, completely covered in blood. She looked around the age of six. Suddenly wonder and awe replaced his sinister idea of draining her magic. He would take her, train her and equip her to be his greatest weapon. The entire room was filled with her magic; it clawed at him, trying to attack. He assumed if he were human, his skin would be bleeding from the severe assault of her magic.

His eyes took her in fully, she was fair skinned with piercing green eyes, but her hair was the darkest shade of red, like a flowing Bordeaux wine, now covered also in the blood of her attacker. He form was quivering, her eyes never leaving the body she murdered with her magic. It was an accident, and if the ministry were to ever find out, they would immediately place her in a magical institution before sending her to Hogwarts, wiping her memory of the event to keep her mind pure and intact. But Tom wasn't going to let that happen, he wasn't going to allow them to take her away from him.

Finally her eyes snapped to his, but she didn't speak. Slowly he crawled his way to her, his body still shaking from her raw magic. As he reached her, he gently caressed her cheek and suddenly she fell into him, her body exhausted after murdering the worthless muggle. Her body shook with shock as he held her and gently spoke soft words into her ears.

"What's your name little one," he asked gently.

She just trembled in his arms.

"Lilliana," she replied weakly. "Are you going to call the police" she finally asked, refusing to look at his face. "I didn't mean to, I swear it!" She pleaded.

He then let her go temporarily to face her. His hands gently cupped her cheeks as he looked into her green eyes determinedly.

"Yes you did," he said softly but firmly.

Immediately she began to shake her head and started crying more.

"No I promise! It was an accident I swear!" She screamed hysterically.

He just gripped her face a little harder. They would begin here. Murder, a necessary means to an end. She had no reason to mourn the loss of such filthy scum, a worthless muggle, especially one who violated her no less.

"Yes, yes you did" he reinforced. "But that's okay," he began looking into her eyes. "Lilliana, there are some people who deserve to die, you killed a man who deserved this," he stated coldly. "You have nothing to feel sorry for, nothing at all." He finished firmly.

She just peered at him completely wide-eyed, almost as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"So," she fumbled slightly. "So you're not going to send me away," she said hopefully.

He just brought her into his arms immediately.

"I would never send you away," he stated and he meant it. She would never leave him, he would never let her.

She cried a little harder, much to his irritation, but refrained from saying anything.

"But I'm wicked," she sobbed. "I'm nothing but a wicked, disgusting little girl," she continued.

Immediate rage welled up inside of him at her words. That filthy muggle called her disgusting; she was superior to him in every way! His body, literally shaking with rage and hatred caused her to try to get away, but proved pointless as he refused to let her go.

"You are not wicked," he began. "Or disgusting do you understand me?" He asked harshly.

She nodded as she looked into his eyes, still frightened slightly by him.

"You can do things, things that other children can't do and that doesn't make you wicked," he said. "It makes you superior to them." He continued. "I'm like you, different and I can teach you how to control it, manipulate to your liking, so that no one can ever hurt you again." He finished darkly as he looked into her eyes.

As he looked at her, something shifted in the air. Her magic cracked and struck like lightning, and it was gloriously terrifying. Her magic was pulling to him, far deeper than anything he had ever experienced. He once read about the pull of magic, it usually meant two people where two halves of a whole. Their magic once combined could be endless, their power without restraint. Her magic recognized his very own, even though as a horcrux he couldn't perform.

"You can," she asked.

He smiled darkly at her then pointed to the floorboards.

"You see that floorboard slightly raised," he asked and she nodded he head. "There is a diary, a blank one. When it's safe, take a pen and write your name in it, I'll respond." He stated as he got up. "I have to go, but run to a teacher and state that you found him like this." He finished as walked over to the diary.

His body was going cold; he wasn't bonded enough with her to remain outside his home for too long. Actually the only reason he was able to leave at all was because the blood of murder ran down the pages. He was born of murder, and only murder could set him free.

"Wait!" she called out to him.

He turned around in response.

"What is your name," she asked.

He looked at her for a moment. Even now he could tell she would become quite beautiful one day.

"Tom, Tom Riddle, but you mustn't tell anyone about me. They wouldn't understand," He stated firmly to which she nodded.

As he reached closer to the book, he suddenly was pulled into it. The call of the diary overpowered everything. Suddenly he was back in the prefect's room. It looked exactly the same as it always had.

Some could say Tom Riddle was lonely, for he had Hogwarts all to himself, yet only he graced the halls. He was completely alone in the world, everything remaining as they were. Time did not exist, only days bleeding into other days. Not even the portraits talked. So he walked by the crackling fire and took a sip of hot tea, just like he always did. After all, it was always there, and always would be.

And maybe that was what he was.

Just always in a state of being.

…

In home not too far from Wool's Orphanage, in a little house on Privet Drive, a little six-year old boy was being locked in a cupboard under the stairs. Harry James Potter knew not of his power or his family, or even that there was another at the murder of the Potter home. He knew nothing of his twin sister and she nothing of him. It would be another five years before either one would know the truth.

And another ten years before Albus Dumbledore would have to face the tragedy he caused, and the repercussions of that choice. For James and Lily Potter were not dead, asleep, but not dead. And Albus would only wake them when the two twins came of age. Love and trust would not meet the Potter parents, for how could two children raised by hate ever love the very people who caused it?

So is it interesting? Reviews people!