Epilogue
Well, there you have it. I have kept no secrets from you about Tom. Finally, I have revealed everything, and maybe that will bring me some semblance of peace after all the years of grief. By sharing my memories, I haven't arrived at any great truth, but I never expected to. I have never been a philosopher—I'm not even a very good teacher—so I will leave finding the truth to you. You may pass judgment upon Tom Riddle if you like, but I will not. History may never be able to forgive him for the heinous acts that he committed, but I can.
No matter how much he tore apart his own soul and became a mockery of everything he should have been, I still love him. As he said all those years ago when he left my office for the last time, I would always see the best in him. Despite all the crimes he was guilty of, when I remember Tom Riddle, I will remember his quick smile or the manner in which his eyes lit up when a new idea crackled through his head like lightning bursting across a summer sky. I do not claim that the good overshadowed the bad in Tom, because I comprehend better than everyone else that, in the end, it was the bad that devoured the good.
However, I also know that history will lie about Tom. History will act like he was evil from the start, so nobody will ever have to think about the thin line that separates knowledge from insanity and ambition from ruthlessness. History will make it sound as though Tom was a monster, not a human, so that nobody will have to consider the idea that anyone could become a Lord Voldemort if given half the brains and half the power that Tom Riddle was.
At least history will remember Tom, though, meaning that his power has immortalized him, as he always hoped that his power would do. I can only pray that the lies history tells about Tom won't result in another Lord Voldemort. I can only hope that now that you know that Tom Riddle was once a human, you can find the truth and correct the lies that history will tell.