It would surprise a great deal of people to know that Lord Voldemort was not Tom Marvolo Riddle.

They were the same person, same body, anyway, but what had made Tom Tom was not what made Lord Voldemort He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Lord Voldemort began, in the smallest of ways, one day in summer, almost eleven years old, when an old man 'popped' into his room at the orphanage.

Tom wasn't happy as an orphan, but he was wise beyond his years and he understood that his situation could be far worse. Instead of being barely tolerated, he could be outright hated. Instead of the meager care he got, he could be living off the streets, not even a lukewarm bath waiting for him at the end of the day. Tom had learned to find pleasure in the small things, the things the other orphans complained about.

Until the old man came.

Tom looked up at him, this ancient figure of old wisdom that looked down at him with sad blue eyes.

He introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore, Transfiguration professor at a wizarding school called Hogwarts. And then he slowly sat himself down on the edge of Tom's cot and he folded his wrinkled hands in his lap. There was a stick in one hand, smooth and coming to a round point – a wand, Dumbledore clarified him. Tom would have one soon.

"Tom…" Dumbledore began carefully, paused, and then continued. "Let me explain to you the balance of good and bad."

And Tom listened, because he was patient and knowledgeable and always willing to understand different viewpoints of different subjects. This was what made him wise.

"People unite under good to battle those that unite under bad," Dumbledore said. Tom already knew this, but he stayed quiet. "But it takes a great evil to unite a world: Man, Tom. Man has always been the greatest evil, the most manipulative and conniving. Under one single man, thousands can come together to destroy a way of life." Dumbledore didn't continue.

Tom didn't think that was right, though. "The same can be said for thousands coming together under a single man for the greater good," he pointed out.

But Dumbledore shook his head. "Sadly, that is not as true. A good cause is not founded till a bad one has been revealed: orphanages are not built unless there are orphans to fill them. Animals are not saved unless they need saving. Abuse shelters are not funded unless someone is abused. Rarely is a good thing done when it is not for the sake to… relieve what a bad thing has wrought."

Tom considered it. "But, then, how can a good thing be done at all, if every good thing is done to battle something bad?"

"You can give a gift to someone you love," Dumbledore pointed out. "And they will appreciate it, perhaps need it, but not because they couldn't have gotten themselves – merely because you got it for them. That is a good thing that happened when there was no bad to influence it."

Tom thought this made sense at well. "Why are you telling me all this?"

Dumbledore softly closed his eyes and he was perfectly still there, perched on the edge of his bed, light filtering in through the open window. There was no sense of peace that came from the man, but, instead, a sense of foreboding.

"The wizarding world," Dumbledore said at last, "needs to be united against an ultimate evil."

Suddenly, he knew what Dumbledore was insinuating. Was asking him to do.

"You want me to be evil."

"For the sake of uniting a world, yes."

"Why me?"

"Because you, when determined, can make anything happen. Anything your heart desires. If things were to go differently, in many years, you could have possibly become Headmaster of Hogwarts, which is a great position of power over future generations. There is a Ministry of Magic in our world, as there is a Ministry in this one, and you possibly could have become Minister."

He wouldn't become either of those things, though, was what Dumbledore was saying. Because he was to be evil.

Tom thought about this for awhile. He didn't necessarily want to be evil. He wasn't a bad child, he had never hurt anyone or caused uncouth grief for the workers or other children at the orphanage.

He supposed, though, that he wasn't necessarily good, either. Nor necessarily a good child. He never went out of his way to help others, or aide in any chores that weren't assigned to him. He did not comfort the younger children or look up to the older ones. He did not make friends, nor did he ever really speak unless spoken to, and he had no sappy need for an animal familiar like all of the children did, trying to adopt toads and frogs and squirrels and stray dogs and cats.

The orphanage did not allow them to keep pets; Tom neither told the workers that this rule was being disobeyed, nor did he help the other children in hiding their pets whenever a worker became suspicious.

He was in-between, he believed. Balancing on a too-thin fence, leaning one way and then the other. He could go either way, but this man was asking him to fall into the dark side where the grass was yellow and the skies were dark and the tree was bare.

"I will think about it," he declared at last.

Dumbledore only nodded once.

~::~

Author's Note: Chapters will be short to moderately average length, just so everyone knows. It looked too awkward when I tried to make them longer.