Chapter Two
That very same night, miles from the heavily guarded and sleeping castle, a lone figure seemed to contemplate the night. Slitted ruby red eyes stared just beyond the roaring, dancing flames of the small fireplace. They stared into the inky blackness of the shadows, shadows moving with such grace beyond the bay window.
For the first time, the figure was completely alone, not a single servant, follower, nor familiar waited at his side. Alone with his thoughts, of past, present, and hopeful future.
He was once called Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr. Butnow the world knew him as the Dark Lord Voldemort. He was oncea very curious and happy child living as a Slytherin in Hogwarts. And now he was a being full of rage and hatred.
Most of that hatred and rage came before he arrived at Hogwarts. As an orphaned child in the most despicable orphanage, he hated Men, Menwho werenow called Muggles.
He once had a mother and father. All children did at one time in their life, for the womb of a mother and the seed of a father created such beings. But it all fell apart. He lost his mother at a very tender age, only two days old. His mother never survived the childbirth, she had fallen very ill before succumbing to the illness two days later.
His father had hated him, never ceasing to tell little Tom it was all his fault Marina Riddle had died. But that hatred never turned brutally physical. Oh no, that came later. Years later.
It seemed a six years after little Tom's birth, Marina Riddle's parents dropped by. They had been searching for their little girl, Marina Michelle Rodrick. It also seemed Marina had conveniently forgotten to tell her husband a very shocking, very disturbing secret. She was a witch, a very powerful witch from a pureblooded family of witches and wizards.
Tom, Sr., was not happy. In fact, he was enraged. He forcefullytold the Rodricks their little girl was an unfaithful whore who hadrecently died. She had saddled him with a child that wasn't of his blood, some other man's child, and then he turned them away, never caring at the outrage on Marina's father's face. Nor did he care that his careless words would come back to haunt him, only a year later after that confrontation his life began to fall apart before his death by a mysterious killer.
Little Tom suffered at the hands of his father's brutal fists. The beatings grew stronger and more frequent, even more severeas life's problems drove the older Tom to drink. Each day little Tom tried his best to hide, to run away, to fight back, anything to save his life, but nothing worked, he was always forced back into the darkness of pain.
Then one day someone came along. A shadowy figure, dressed all in black with a white mask, suddenly appeared into their home. Little Tom had dragged himself to a dark corner, hoping his drunkenfather wouldn't see him again when his father paused for another drink. He had already suffered at the man's hands;his blood from the various hits and broken bones testified that.
Fearful, pain filled green eyes widened with terror when the mystery man appeared out of thin air. He watched as his father tried to tell the other to leave, tried to fight the intruder. His eyes widened more as the other man simply pulled a slim stick from his sleeve and pointed it towards his father. Two murmured words left his father dead by a green light.
He had whimpered, catching the other's attention. But that man must havehad some mercy after seeing the state little Tom was in. Oh, but he could have taken me home. But no, his mercy left me in the hands of another brutal Muggle.
Three days after his father's death and being healed of his father's beating, little Tom was placed within an orphanage. Two nights later, little Tom had been brutally beaten and bloodied. Two years later little Tom had his first taste of unrelenting pain. His so-called caretaker had taken his pleasure of little Tom's body before beating him bloody. Every night after that Tom suffered unrelenting rape sessions and beatings.
But after he turned eleven, Tom thought he had been saved only to learn the Magical World simply wanting to teach him some fancy tricks and send him back to hell each summer and hell it was. It drove Tom to the Dark Arts and full fledged hatred of all Muggles and Wizards. His dream had begun. It was time someone put the world in its place and Tom was the one to do it.
The day of his dream, Dark Lord Voldemort had been born. He had grown in power and relished the fear he created. With faithful followers and supporters, he began his reign of conquest. But a simple prophecy had been his downfall. He had learned of a powerful equal, born to destroy him, a babe called Harry Potter.
He had tried to eliminate the problem, only to succeed in fulfilling the prophecy and taking away his physical form. But after the boy's Fifth Year he hadgained most of his physical attributes back into their beautiful form. And now he contemplated his future.
He knew he needed something to destroy Harry Potter, the thorn in his side. A lone boy, an orphan he hadcreated, ruined everything he tried to gain. But there hadto be something. Anything. "Wormtail!" Just perhaps my little ones will know.