This will be a really long author's note, since I want to clear a few things up.

First of all, McGonagall. I've gotten a lot of reviews from people who seem to think that she's evil and mean for not believing Albus and Frank. To these people I have two responses. One: what would you think if someone came and told you that his little brother thought he was Voldemort? You'd try to get that little brother as much help as possible, wouldn't you? If your answer is yes, then you are like McGonagall. Congrats. Later on, when she refuses to believe Frank (and the Snape portrait), she just can't believe that such a thing could happen. As she says, not magic can raise the dead. This is a rule that I blatantly ignored, and you shouldn't blame McGonagall for my diverting from the lovely canon JK gave us.

If you have any questions, comments, or just want to tell me I'm an idiot, feel free to leave a review or PM me. Also, to avoid any confusion, the first part of this chapter is being told from Albus's (very confusing) POV.

Tommy stared at the blank white ceiling. Or perhaps it was the wall. It didn't matter really. Everything looks the same through closed eyes. Tommy's head buzzed from the last potion they had given him. He couldn't really think, just buzz along with it like an eagle gliding on a wind. This wind would smash it straight into a cliff. Tommy knew he should fight it, but right at that moment he was too weak to try.

The cliff face was coming. Tommy giggled as the heavy footsteps stopped by his bedside. He'd just made a joke and a good one too.

"How are you doing, Mr. Potter?" said a voice above him. Tommy opened his eyes to see a bearded face looming over him.

"Hiya, Dr. Cliff," said Tommy, still giggling a little. "Have any eagles smashed into you lately?" Dr. Cliff sighed, making a note on his clipboard with a weird quill pen.

"What potion have they given you?" he said.

"An annoying one," whined Tommy. "All it does is make my head buzz. It hurts to think." Dr. Cliff nodded and made another note.

"What is your name, young man?" he said. Tommy's eyebrows scrunched together.

"Don't you know?" he said.

"You've been in an accident. We're just checking for trauma and concussions." Tommy frowned. He didn't remember any accident.

"Well, my name's Tommy Riddle," he said. Dr. Cliff sighed again.

"How old are you?"

"Eleven. I'll be twelve in three months. I'm a wizard; did you know that? Someday I'll be the best wizard ever."

"Why?" Tommy's face suddenly got solemn.

"Because when you're the best you don't get hurt. When you're the best, people like you. The kids at Hogwarts won't be able to believe what I'm able to do! That guy who came, Dumbledore, he said that I was special because I can talk to snakes." Dr. Cliff just shook his head sadly and began to walk away. "You don't believe me?" Dr. Cliff turned around to see Tommy sitting up in bed and looking even paler than he usually did.

"Of course I do," said Dr. Cliff too quickly. Tommy just glared at the doctor.

"I can prove it," he said. "I can prove it to you. I'm not weak!'' Tommy let out a strangled hissing noise that sounded like he was having a seizer. Dr. Cliff ran towards the bed, but before he got there a snake had slithered from the darkest corner of the room into Tommy's waiting hands. Tommy looked at the terrified doctor smugly.

"See? I told you I could," he said. "He says his name's Henry. You want to hold him?" Needless to say, Dr. Cliff got out of the room as quickly as possible.

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Tom was crying and he didn't know why. This potion didn't hurt as much as some of the other ones had, but inside he hurt more than ever. Dr. Cliff stopped again by his bedside, and Tom looked up at him.

"I- I killed them," he said. Dr. Cliff's jaw tightened.

"Who?" he said, his voice somehow calm.

"My father," said Albus, "and my grandparents. They deserved it, though. They all did."

"Why?" said Cliff, recovering himself enough to make a few scratches on his clipboard.

"They abandoned my mum," said Tom, his voice hardening. "Those dirty Muggles killed her. So I killed them. I don't regret it."

"Then why were you crying?" Tom smiled bitterly through the tears.

"You do like asking the hard questions, don't you?" he said. "I'm crying because- I don't know. I thought killing them would make everything better. It hasn't."

"Why would that be?" said Dr. Cliff, intrigued by the boy in spite of himself. It was almost like studying and attempting to help Voldemort himself.

"I don't know," said Tom. "Maybe it was because of the way they died. It was… quick. One wave of my wand and it was like they never had existed. I don't like death, I think."

"What will you do now?" said Dr. Cliff. Tom turned away from him.

"I feel like a monster," he said, "b- but they're the ones who hurt me. Muggles are the real monsters, right? It's their fault."

"And?" said Dr. Cliff. Tom turned around, and Cliff was frightened by how little he saw in the young man's eyes.

"I hate them," said Tom. "I hate them all. I hate the fact that wizards and witches have to live in fear of creatures that don't have a drop of magical blood in them. From now on, any Muggle who so much as thinks of hurting a wizard is going to answer to me."

"More death and pain won't bring your mother back," said Dr. Cliff. Tom glared at the doctor.

"I know that," he said, "but this way, no one will have to grow up alone like I did. I'm not going to be able to save my mum; it's too late for that now. But I can save other's mums."

"And when you die?"

"I'm not going too. That's my other project. I'm going to find an easy way to immortality, easier than a Philosopher's Stone. That way nobody'll die and leave sadness behind." Dr. Cliff almost sympathized, and then he remembered what this boy would do. This boy, this sorrowful young man, would become Voldemort.

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The next time Dr. Cliff saw Tom the boy was lying down, white as the sheets of the hospital bed.

"What have you done this time?" said Cliff. Tom looked over at Dr. Cliff, remorse filling his eyes.

"I- I killed him," he whispered.

"Who?" said Dr. Cliff. Tom paused.

"You won't tell Dumbledore?" he pleaded.

"Of course not," said Cliff. Tom nodded.

"Good," he said. "I killed a- a wizard last night." Cliff's blood stopped cold.

"What?" Tom began to sob.

"I- I didn't mean to, but he was protecting that old h- hawk. I- I had to. S- She'd called him a freak. She h- hurt him."

"Who was she?"

"His a- aunt," said Tom, sniffling. "I- I didn't mean to, I swear. It all h- happened so fast."

"Why would you try to kill her if she had a wizard nephew? After all, the blood bonds may have led him to love her despite her shortcomings."

"Well, that's his shortcoming then, isn't it?" said Tom bitterly. "Couldn't he see I was only helping him? Now-" Tom choked on his regret and pain. "He was only a second-year. How could he have thought he had a chance against me?"

"Maybe he didn't," said Cliff, "but he knew he couldn't let his family die without a fight." Tom looked into the distance, and then smiled bitterly, musing the doctor's words.

"Why did he love her? Why wouldn't he want justice to be given?"

"It all depends on your definition of justice."

"Muggles are the ones who've forced us into hiding. I'm making them pay for that, so that we don't have to live like this much longer. I'll make them fear us."

"Why?" said Dr. Cliff. "Why can't you just leave them be?" Tom's face transformed into something ugly.

"It's all their fault!" he shouted. "Every bad thing that's happened has had a Muggle as its cause. I'll kill them all and everyone who gets in the way of justice, too. It's for good." Dr. Cliff took a step backwards. He knew now that he was witnessing the death throes of Tom Riddle and the birth of Voldemort. From now on there would be no second guessing, no remorse, no excitement, no anything.

Cliff felt his heart break. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right for such an innocent boy, a boy who just wanted to be loved and accepted, to become the darkest lord of all time. It wasn't right what Voldemort would do, but at the same time Cliff could completely sympathize with the boy- no, young man, who had such a noble cause at heart but had somehow lost that.

What destruction will be wrought by the boy who wanted to be "the best wizard ever"!

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When Dr. Cliff next went to Tom's room, he expected a full-grown killer on his hands. Instead he found his patient sitting up in bed, looking extremely tired and entirely lucid.

"Are you-" Cliff began.

"I'm fine," said Tom. "I'm sorry if I freaked you out when I was having all those Voldemort attacks. Potions must really not help." Cliff stared.

"You're yourself," he said slowly. "That's progress." Tom just sighed.

"No, I'm not myself. I'm someone completely different."

"What do you mean by that?" said Dr. Cliff, more than used to his patient's sometimes strange statements by now.

"The… walls, so to speak, between my Voldemort self and my Potter self have broken down. They're still distinctly separate, but it can't be balanced anymore. I'm blended."

"Are you all right?" said Dr. Cliff, who was quite frankly baffled by what was happening. Tom nodded.

"It hurt more than anything," he whispered. "I knew when I decided to immerse myself in Voldemort that it would hurt. But is I didn't do it, if I didn't break my heart, then things would just get worse. It's like a bandage: better to get it off all at once than slowly, agonizingly."

"How could you do it?" There was a tone of amazement in the doctor's voice. From what he'd heard, his patient had just as good as cured his own mental illness.

"I guess I just kept telling myself that the end would justify all the pain it took to get there."

"Is that the only answer I'll get to my question?" Tome smiled.

"Do I need to say any more? I've broken the wall; isn't that enough? I'm free of the artificial limitation I'd imposed on myself." Dr. Cliff sighed.

"Fine," he said, "just answer this one question. Who are you now?" Tom paused, tilting his head as though studying the simple question from every loaded angle.

"My name is Albus Potter," he said, sounding a little surprised at his answer. He didn't say the words he knew should come after. For now.

There we go, then. The next chapter we'll see how the Life Barfers have fared in Albus's absence, then Albus will be back at Hogwarts and we'll be almost to Easter Vacation. Now that's a segment I've been looking forward to for a long time. Adios, and review!