A/N: So this was originally a one-shot but I decided to make it a drabble based/one-shot chapters story. Most of the events will be in chronological order. I hope you guys enjoy it.
P.S. Don't expect updates to always be this fast, its just my Muse is flowing non-stop right now. Story is also posted on AO3 under the same username.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Review...Please?
The small town of Little Hangleton was nothing special. Really, it was like any other town and village within the Kingdom. There was the baker, silversmith, blacksmith, a small library, and other little stores to get the town by without having to go to a larger city or the Capitol. The Riddle Family, however, owned most of the land the town settled on.
They had the money but not the prestige of an Old Family. So to everyone's surprise (not really) the Heir to the Riddle Family, Tom Riddle was set to be married to the Guant Family's only daughter, Merope.
Now the Guant's had the prestige of an Old Family but no money. And really the Guants and the Riddles hated each other but could (barely) tolerate each other to gain what both wanted: Wealth and Prestige.
And so the handsome Tom Riddle married the plain looking Merope Guant.
On December 31, Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. was born.
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Voldemort listened for any prey within the forest. He didn't really expect to find anyone but it never hurt to be overly cautious. It was the middle of the Winter season, so finding anyone was slim to none. It was a few weeks before Yuletide and most humans would stay near their homes.
Days like this were quite boring. Maybe he should torture some of his followers just to entertain himself. He did enjoy seeing others in pain. Unfortunately or Fortunately - really it depends on which of his followers are asked - his attention is always held by the Bloody Red.
Memories of Voldemort's first encounter with the Slayer always occupied his mind during the winter season. Especially when Yule drew closer.
It seemed like only yesterday when Voldemort had seen the small eleven year old Slayer-to-be roaming the forest all alone. He didn't even have his famous red cloak yet.
It was even winter then too.
Voldemort had been roaming through the forest with a few of his lesser ranked followers. Every wolf knew that the whole week before the Yuletide was a field test for the Slayers-to-be. It was an event both sides looked forward to every year.
Applicants of all ages would participate, well, no one under the age of eleven was allowed to take the test anyway, but that was still pretty young. The test would show the abilities of the applicants and how well they could survive on their own, especially when food, warmth and shelter were scarce and predators were on the prowl.
That particular day, Voldemort had decided to test some of his newer followers as they hadn't had any experience dealing with a Slayer yet. And what better way to test them than with the Slayer Field Test. So when he found a small eleven year old with bright green eyes, messy black hair hidden under a fur hat, and bundled up warmly with a rifle almost bigger than him, Voldemort thought that this would be an easy test for his followers.
Really it wouldn't be too hard for them to overpower a child.
He was proven wrong.
To this day, Voldemort wonders why he never noticed the gleam in those bright green eyes. The ambition and determination to fight and win. To be the best. It was a look he was quite familiar with because he saw it in his own eyes everyday.
The small eleven year slaughtered the five wolves he had sent to test. The boy was a natural for wielding a weapon. Those eyes were of a hunter and predator, no mercy held within those enchanting green eyes.
The boy shot with deadly accuracy that had to come with years of practice. And when it seemed one of Voldemort's followers was getting the upper hand, the boy brought a hidden knife from his sleeve to slash at one of the target's vital organs. One of them actually had his throat slashed open just as he was about to strike.
The scent of blood was strong and Voldemort had no doubt that others in the area could smell it. He watched with enraptured interest as the boy finished the last of the group. It went to show that those wolves weren't even worth his time if they died to a child.
No matter, there were always others to replace them. They wouldn't be missed.
The boy had minimal damage but only exhaustion seemed to be the main problem. The boy could possibly become a threat if left unchecked but it could've just been dumb luck. He would have to keep testing the boy. After all, it would keep him entertained the entire time and see the potential in the child.
For the entire week, Voldemort sent various amounts of wolves of different ranks and in groups or solo to test the boy. More than once, the child won his battles and was intelligent with his quick thinking to get out of sticky situations. If he couldn't win a direct fight, he lured the wolves to another location that benefited him.
Sometimes, Voldemort called back those he sent after the child - the brief rest he gave the child always varied - and then sent them back out again. It kept the boy on his toes, especially when the child had been injured in a previous fight. The child was hardly a match for his more advanced wolves but he always managed to escape and survive but killed the lower ranks.
It was thrilling to see bodies and blood scattered and contrast against the pure white snow, with the child looking like an avenging angel with blood covering his entire person.
The week ended much too soon for Voldemort. He wasn't surprised that the boy passed the test. The Examiners had watched each and every examinee during different parts of the day over the entire week. They were a little surprised that so many wolves, low and high ranking, went after him but we're proud that he held his own.
Voldemort left before he could hear the child's name as he didn't want to be found by the more experienced Slayers, especially by Albus Dumbledore.
It would be months later when Voldemort learned of a Wolf Slayer with bright green eyes, messy black hair and a Red Hooded Cloak soaked in blood, that he once again thought of the child.
The Bloody Red is what Voldemort would come to call the child he had seen that winter season.
And somehow the name would be whispered in fear and awe by both Wolf and Man.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review, I like seeing what everyone thought of the story and chapter.
