Spring 1942:

Tom Riddle stared uneasily in the mirror. Had he given any thought to the effects the making of a Hocrux would have on his appearance he would have thought it would make him look more Slytherin, whatever that would mean. Maybe something Snakelike, with slits for pupils and no nose. Horrifying yes, but certainly preferable to this. Riddle slowly lifted one hand and carefully stroked over his nose. It was gigantic. And his hair looked just ridiculous, with the blueish tint and standing up like this. He would have to wear a hat until he found a more permanent solution to the problem.

The question that remained now was whether making more Hocruxes would also further the physical transformation. A disturbing thought to say the least, but Riddle knew that could not let himself be stopped by so trivial matters as his looks. It was his immortality at stake here, what were a few physical changes that could be easily covered up compared to that? And by creating the diary he had also crafted a means to purify Hogwarts remotely. Even if he could not finish off all mudbloods during his school time someone else would do so in his stead and no one would ever be able to draw the connection to him. It was better like this, really; he couldn't be implicated. With that matter taken care of for now he could focus on his search for the Gaunts. With new found resolution Tom Riddle stepped away from the mirror and left the room without a looking back.

Summer 1932

Pure Elation flooded through Tom Riddle as he stared down at the corpses of his father and his useless Muggle relatives. He had in one stroke removed the stain of a Muggle father and made a new Hocrux. He lifted his hand to look at the ring of his ancestors, which was now much more than just a ring. The dark stone on it glittered in the pale light of a late afternoon sun. And as the light fell through the large windows he caught a look of his reflection in the shining surface of the fridge. He froze. Ever so slowly he turned to face his reflection fully and almost felt his knees buckling at the sight of him. This could not be happening. The image was far from clear but it was undeniable non the less: He did not look entirely human any more.

Somewhen in 1944

Riddle felt slightly wary as he stepped in his room above Jiggers. He had not dared to make any more Hocruxes in Hogwarts as he did not want to risk anyone, and least of all Dumbledore, to find out about his altered appearance. It had been difficult enough to hide the change without obvious concealing charms. But now, with Slytherins locket and Hufflepuffs cup dangling before his nose he hadn't been able to resist. Riddle gathered his courage, stepped in front of the mirror, shed his robe and let go of all his concealment charns. After a few seconds of contemplation, he gave an internal shrug and turned away. All in all it could have been worse; his face was mostly unchanged and a look at his backside had at least explained why he had felt so strange sitting down and where that tickling sensation at his neck came from. With these changes he could deal in his usual morning grooming-routine. A few more plucking charms, some diminution of the most prominent anatomical features and he would be fine.

Winter 1954

The castle of Hogwarts was as magnificent as ever and the brilliant white snow made the night seem brighter than it actually was. Tom Riddle did not care very much for cold weather but as he climbed up the stairs to Hogwarts front gates he could not help but admire the castle enthroned above the wintry landscape of Scotland. It was worth coming back here just to see Hogwarts again, but the weight of Ravenclaws diadem in his pocket reminded him of his true purpose for coming here.

Riddle did not really believe that Dumbledore would give him the position as a Defense against the Dark Arts professor but it was worth a try and he could at least hide his latest Hocrux in the secret room. His only worry was that Dumbledore would see through his concealment charms; the creation of the diadem had altered his features even more and he now he had to rely on a potion to hide his abnormally large nose. On the other hand, Dumbledore would not know what to make of his changed appearance. If Riddle was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he feared the ridicule that would follow a revelation of his facade more than the discovery of the reasons for said facade. Albus Dumbledore was however so eccentric himself that he would probably not ridicule someone for his looks, no matter how foolish they looked. Therefore this meeting also served as a test for his concealment and, in case of failure, for the reaction of his most dangerous adversary. Better to get that test out of the way now, before he started on his agenda for wizarding Britain.

Autumn 1994

This state was degrading and Riddle hated it. To have need of a servant as idiotic and weak as Wormtail was humiliating in itself, but to have that fool coo over him made him want to pull his hair out. Or, more accurately, his soft stupid feathers. He should have known better. But the opportunity had seemed just too good when Wormtail had showed up with Bertha Jorkins and he had been elated to finally have a body again. It was also a huge success that Nagini was suitable as a container for his soul piece. He had been worried about that, afterall his appearance did not suggest that a snake would be his closest companion. Wormtail, who had been busy with the stove, turned around and brought the milk over to him.

The silly smile that covered Wormtails face as he regarded his master made Riddle want to rip his lips off. Soon he would have his body back and he would make Wormtail pay for every dopey smile and garbled word.

The end of the scool year 1994

Lord Voldemort rose from the cauldron and took a deep breath with his newly formed lungs. This was what triumph felt like. He took his cloak from the shaking Wormtail and felt a short stab of unease at the widening eyes and gaping mouse of his servant. For a moment the memory of his image in the mirror in 1944 rose to his mind and he had to fight down a rush of panic at the thought of what he might look like if that change had intensified. Hastily he threw the Hood over his head. It didn't matter, Riddle decided. He was back.

'Wormtail, give me...' Voldemort started only to be interrupter by a load guffaw from the boy tied to a tombstone behind him.

Completely enraged, he spun around and raised his feathers into a fan. Which just made Potter laugh harder and actually had Wormtail join him in his laughter. In one quick movement Voldemort threw a curse at Potter, turned and hit Wormtail with a Crucio. Oh, that felt good. He had waited for a long time to have Wormtail trashing around in pain before him, never mind that Wormtail had actually helped him. Satisfied with the torment he caused, Riddle turned to face Potter again and so he just caught a last glimpse of the boy reaching for the Cup before he disappeared in whirle of motion.

Harry Potter appeared out of nowhere in front of the maze, giggling hysterically and clutching the Triwizard Cup. Tears were running down his cheeks and he was gasping for breath, but as Dumbledore and the other teachers rushed to his side he broke out in a new fit of laughter. He grasped for Dumbledores arm and choked out: "Voldemort looks like a Peacock!"

A.N: Why a peacock? Well, there is not much information about the Riddles in the books, except for the fact that they are conceited and live in an ostentatiously large house. So I went with an animal that his associated with vanity and pride. Also, I just thought it was a funny idea to have Voldemort look more ridiculous or even cute than scary and did not care all that much about logic.