I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. It's very hard keeping this boy in character when there's a person other than Nagini that genuinely cares about him and not because he's a great leader or because he's powerful.

Honestly, I just want to write about their summer and how two wars are affecting these characters and not include Hogwarts, but then this story would be really short.

Happy reading.


Chapter 3: The Pursuit of Power

As the summer days passed by, Tom's fascination with the dark arts grew exponentially. He spent most of his time delving into ancient tomes, poring over forbidden spells, and uncovering the darkest secrets of wizardry. He kept all these pieces of information that he was able to steal away while in the restricted section of the library in his locked trunk. It could only be opened with his wand. His determination to gain power and immortality consumed him, and he became more withdrawn from the other orphans at Wool's Orphanage.

He kept one book always close to him. It was a large volume, bound in faded black leather. The book was called "Secrets of the Darkest Art". It was the only known source of written instructions on the creation and destruction of a Horcrux. Tom would return it to the library once he was done with it. He needed to understand the meticulous spell on how to create a horcrux.

One afternoon, while wandering the streets of London, Tom stumbled upon a scene that shook him to the core. The air was thick with smoke from the recent air raid, and the once bustling marketplace now lay in ruins. Buildings were reduced to rubble, and people hurried about, their faces etched with fear and desperation.

Tom watched as families clung to each other, searching for any sign of hope amidst the destruction. He saw children huddled together, their innocent eyes filled with terror, and mothers cradling their babies tightly, trying to shield them from the horrors around.

As he continued to walk through the war-torn city, Tom couldn't ignore the suffering and pain that surrounded him. The war was not just a distant concept; it was real and visceral, affecting the lives of ordinary people in the most profound ways.

"These muggles are so weak," Tom muttered to himself, a hint of superiority in his voice. "They are no match for the power of magic."

He watched as buildings crumbled and people ran for cover, their fear and helplessness fueling a dark pleasure within him. The chaos and devastation were overwhelming, but it also made him feel more alive than ever before.

But amid the destruction, he saw a group of children, their faces dirty and tear-stained, huddled together in an alleyway. Their fear-stricken eyes met his, and for a moment, he felt a strange pang of something akin to guilt.

He scoffed, trying to push away the unsettling feeling. "They brought this upon themselves."

As he continued his walk, he spotted a mother cradling her wounded child, her eyes pleading for help. He sneered at their vulnerability, but a part of him couldn't help but be intrigued by the rawness of their emotions.

He couldn't help but be reminded of his own lack of memories about his mother. He had no recollection of her face, her voice, or any warmth of her presence. All he knew was that she had died soon after giving birth to him, leaving him at the mercy of Wool's Orphanage.

"Who was she?" he wondered, his mind delving into the depths of his past. "What was she like? Did she care for me, or was I just another burden?"

The answers were lost to him, buried in a past that remained elusive. He felt a strange emptiness at not knowing the woman who had brought him into the world. It was a void that he had always tried to fill with power, knowledge, and the pursuit of greatness.

"Perhaps it's better this way," he mused, trying to shake off the unease that had settled within him. "I don't need anyone. I am destined for more than just a mother's love."

But even as he tried to convince himself of his own independence, a small part of him longed for the connection he had never known. He thought of Kavya again, the girl who had shown him kindness and compassion, something he had never experienced before. He missed her a lot.

"Look, doesn't he remind you of Tom Riddle Senior?" one person said, glancing in Tom's direction.

Tom's ears perked up at the mention of his own name. For a moment, he wondered if they were talking about him, but he quickly brushed off the thought. After all, he couldn't be Tom Riddle Senior; he was just Tom, the boy from the orphanage with no family and no past.

But curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to listen in on the conversation from a distance.

"He does look quite like him, only younger," another voice chimed in. "I wonder if he's a relative."

"Could be his son, maybe? Though I've never heard of Tom Riddle having any family."

Tom's heart started pounding in his chest. It couldn't have been a coincidence that someone else had his exact name. His name was so common while he wasn't. He scoffed a little, why was his name so plain and ordinary?

As much as he wanted to dismiss the idea, he couldn't ignore the feeling of curiosity that gnawed at him. Maybe he had family out there, someone who knew about him and cared about him. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

With his mind racing, he decided to ask one of the men about this Tom Riddle Senior they were discussing.

"Excuse me," he approached the group cautiously. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Who is this Tom Riddle Senior you're talking about?

The men exchanged glances and then looked at Tom. The resemblance was extremely uncanny to that of his father.

One of them spoke up. "Yes, he is. Returned a few days ago, looking like he's seen a ghost. They say he disappeared a year ago and nobody knew where he went."

"Some of the rumors are that he ran away with some ghastly woman. She was strange and odd." Another said.

"If you're his son lad, you've got it made," A third person spoke. "Your father is a very wealthy man. Although no one knows why he ran off with some tramp's daughter."

It didn't take Tom too long to figure out they were speaking about his mother. Anger flashed in his eyes for a moment. If they only knew of her legacy and who she was. But it begs the question, why was he in some orphanage if his father was extremely wealthy? Why did he abandon his mother? He needed answers.

As he walked away from the group, his mind was racing with questions. Why had his father left him? Why had he never come looking for him? Did he even know that Tom existed?

His thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions – anger, abandonment, and a strange sense of hope all at once.

"I will find him," Tom vowed, clenching his fists with determination. "I will confront him and make him acknowledge me, his own son."


Kavya sat in the living room of her aunt and uncle's house, her gaze fixated on the quiet streets of Little Hangleton. Anjali, her aunt, entered with a tray of tea and biscuits.

"Here, Kavya dear, have some tea. It will warm you up," Anjali said, placing the tray on the coffee table since the room was cold due to the fire dying down in the fireplace.

"Thank you, Aunt Anjali," Kavya replied, taking a cup of tea.

As Kavya sipped her tea, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness in her heart. The loss of her parents was still fresh, and being in this unfamiliar place only magnified her loneliness.

Anjali noticed her niece's melancholy expression and sat down beside her. "I know it's not easy, dear, but we're here for you. You're always welcome in our home," she said warmly, placing a comforting hand on Kavya's shoulder.

"I appreciate that, Aunt Anjali. It's just... everything feels so different," Kavya replied, her voice soft and tinged with sadness.

Anjali gave her a reassuring smile. "I understand, dear. It will take time to adjust, but we're a family now. And we'll get through this together."

Cinnamon, her loyal corgi dog looked up sensing Kavya's sadness and immediately jumped onto the couch and in her lap. The tea in her hand nearly split as the dog wanted affection.

"Well almost everything feels different." Kavya smiled patting Cinnamon's head.

As the afternoon turned into evening, Kavya found herself in her new room, trying to distract her mind from the overwhelming emotions. Cinnamon was comfortably asleep beside her. She picked up a book from her bag - "Tales of Beedle the Bard."

The familiar stories brought back memories of her parents reading them to her when she was a child. She could almost hear their voices as she turned the pages, losing herself in the enchanting tales of magic and adventure.

In the midst of her reading, Kavya's thoughts wandered to Tom. That boy had been on her mind ever since she saw him on the platform at King's Cross. She wondered if he was still at Wool's Orphanage, and if he was doing okay.

Just then, an owl flew through the open window, holding a letter in its beak. Kavya carefully took the letter, recognizing the handwriting. It was from her best friend, and fellow Hufflepuff housemate who was on vacation the United States.

Dear Kavya,

I hope you're settling well with your aunt and uncle. I miss you so much, and I can't wait for you to visit during the holidays. But I wanted to tell you about the latest news from the wizarding world - Grindelwald's rise to power is causing chaos everywhere!

There have been reports of dark wizards and witches joining his cause and wreaking havoc across the U.S. and now I hear that his forces are on their way to Europe. It's getting scary out there. No one seems safe. There are a select handful of people from the Ministry of Magic who are trying their best to stop him.

Even Professor Dumbledore has been working tirelessly to fight against Grindelwald's followers, but it's a difficult and dangerous task. He may not return this term with the way things are here.

I know you've always been passionate about justice and doing what's right, so I wanted to let you know about this. Your strength and courage are needed more than ever in these troubled times.

Stay safe and know that I'm thinking of you. I can't wait to see you again!

Yours truly,

Myra

A frown crept across Kavya's face as she read Myra's letter. She missed her friend too, and she was looking forward to seeing her again. Hogwarts had always been a place of wonder and excitement, a home away from home. Her mind lingered to Grindelwald. She wondered how a terrible person such as him could exist?

As Kavya placed the letter down and placed the book of fairy tales on her nightstand. She thought of Tom again and wondered if he had ever read these magical stories. A part of her wished that they could have shared these tales together. She was concerned about him. They were in the middle of a muggle and wizarding war which would wound the world.


Late into the night, by the dim light of a flickering candle, Tom read about the darkest spells and rituals known to wizard kind. He learned about the creation of Horcruxes, a practice so malevolent that it allowed one to split their soul and anchor it to various objects, granting them a form of immortality. The consequences it would have on the creator's soul, and that only by remorse could the soul be repaired, a process that was so painful it could be fatal.

Nagini slithered beside him. They were in the attic about to perform the most heinous and terrifying spells known to wizarding kind. It was the perfect quiet place for him to read and practice his spells.

The creak of the attic door interrupted his intense concentration, and he quickly closed the book, tucking it back into its hiding place. Mrs. Cole, the matron of the orphanage, stood in the doorway, her stern expression softening as she saw Tom.

"Still up here, Tom?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern. "It's getting late, and the other children have already gone to bed."

Tom looked up; his eyes dark with secrets he dared not share. "I couldn't sleep, Mrs. Cole." He drew his wand out secretly hiding it in his hand. No one would stop him from achieving greatness.

Mrs. Cole sighed, her gaze lingering on the dusty book Tom had laid out on the floor. "I worry about you, Tom. You spend too much time in this gloomy old place, filling your head with things that no child should know."

"I just want to learn." Tom replied, his voice quiet but resolute.

"You're a bright lad, Tom," Mrs. Cole said gently, "but there's more to life than just filling your head with knowledge. There's love, friendship, and the joy of being a part of something greater than yourself."

Tom's eyes flashed with a hint of defiance. "Love and friendship have never done me any good. People are weak, and I won't be tied down by their sentiments." He was lying to her and to himself.

Mrs. Cole sighed again, realizing the depth of Tom's detachment from the world. "I hope you'll find your way, Tom." She replied turning a heel.

With that, she left the attic, leaving Tom to his thoughts. As he sat alone in the fading light, a sense of emptiness gnawed at him. Despite his aspirations for greatness, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The dark arts offered a glimpse of power, but it was a power that left him isolated and alone.

His thoughts drifted to the mysterious diary he had received as a Christmas present from Kavya. Reaching into his pocket, he took the diary out. It seemed to be untouched, the pages were blank. All it had was his name on it. His plain, ordinary, and common name. Everywhere he went as he took walks on the broken streets of London; he heard people shout 'Tom' but they weren't referring to him. Those people were either colleagues or friends. Even his father had the same name as him.

It seemed like a fitting vessel for a Horcrux. It held sentimental value and would serve as a reminder of their fleeting romance. The idea of preserving a piece of himself in that diary felt strangely poetic.

But as he contemplated the ritual involved in creating a Horcrux, a voice in the back of his mind urged caution. The process was described as heinous and irreversible. It would require an act of unspeakable evil - the taking of a life - to rip his soul apart. He had already done so by unleashing the basilisk in the chamber of secrets and killing Myrtle.

Conflicted and torn, Tom turned to Nagini, who was slithering nearby, her beady eyes fixed on him. "What do you think, Nagini?" he whispered. "Is it worth it?"

Nagini hissed softly, as if understanding the weight of his words. Tom knew she was loyal to him, but he also sensed her unease with the darkness that consumed him. He wondered if he was crossing a line from which there was no return.

A sudden memory flashed in his mind - the day he had met Kavya in the halls of Hogwarts. How her presence had sparked something inside him, something he had never felt before. It was a fleeting glimpse of happiness, a feeling he had thought unattainable for someone like him.

But now, as he sat in the dim attic, the memory seemed distant and unattainable. The darkness had enveloped him, and he felt like a mere shell of the boy he once was.

Tom closed his eyes, trying to shut out the conflicting thoughts that swirled inside his mind. He knew that creating a Horcrux would forever change him, and the darkness that he sought to master might end up consuming him instead.

For the first time in a long while, doubt crept into Tom's heart. Was this the path he truly wanted to walk? Was it worth losing his humanity for the sake of power and immortality?

He didn't have the answer yet, but he knew he needed time to think and decide his future carefully. With a heavy heart, he carefully tucked the diary away, vowing to revisit the idea later.

His mind consumed with thoughts of power and the mysteries that awaited him. He knew he had to explore the secrets of his heritage further, and the idea of visiting Little Hangleton, where his father supposedly lived, intrigued him.

His eyes fell upon the old map of London hanging on the attic wall. Little Hangleton wasn't far from here. Just a train ride away. A plan formed in his mind. He needed money to buy a ticket and some provisions for his journey.

Without a second thought, Tom crept down the stairs, ensuring no one was watching. He slipped into Mrs. Cole's office, where he knew she kept her purse. The woman always boasted about her little savings. Tom was convinced that she wouldn't miss a few coins.

His hand reached into the purse, feeling the coins and notes. He was not a thief by any means, but all he had in his pockets were galleons and other forms of wizard money. He hesitated for a moment, thinking of the consequences if he were caught. But the allure of what awaited him in Little Hangleton was too strong.

Tom took a handful of coins and stuffed them into his pocket. He took a breath. "I must know where I come from." He whispered leaving the orphanage.

As he left the dismal orphanage, Tom wandered the streets of London, asking people for directions to the train station that would take him to Little Hangleton. With each step, his determination grew, fueled by the desire to uncover the truth about his father and the secrets of his past.

He finally reached the train station, a worn and aged building amidst the chaos of the war-torn city. Tom glanced around, ensuring that no one was watching him, before slipping into the shadows. He saw an opportunity, and with a quick flick of his wand and a whispered incantation, the conductor of the station became entranced by the Imperius Curse.

"Now, you will tell me everything I need to know," Tom said in a low, commanding voice, gazing into the conductor's vacant eyes.

The conductor complied, providing Tom with the information he sought. The conductor was forced to tell Tom what train to take to get to Little Hangleton, how many hours and what stop to get off. This thrill of power over muggles excited him.

Leaving the entranced conductor behind, Tom boarded the train, feeling the thrill of anticipation. As the train pulled away from the station, he leaned against the window, his mind racing with thoughts of what he might find in Little Hangleton.


As the day passed, Kavya kept herself updated on the news of Grindelwald's actions. She couldn't help but feel a growing sense of urgency to do something. Perhaps it was time to step out of her comfort zone and join the fight against darkness.

She had gotten used to staying with her aunt and uncle, helping them out as much as she could and gathering ingredients for potions. The village was attuned to various plants and flowers that would work well for her in potions class.

Kavya found solace in helping Anjali in the garden.

The sunbathed the flowers in a warm glow, and Kavya felt a sense of peace amidst the chaos of her emotions.

"You have a green thumb, Kavya. You'll fit right in here," Anjali said, smiling at her niece.

Kavya managed a weak smile, trying to be optimistic about her new life.

"That's kind of you to say, Aunt Anjali," Kavya replied, plucking a few weeds from the soil. "I do enjoy being surrounded by nature."

"I'm glad to hear that," Anjali said. "By the way, if you're interested in gardening, the best spot to find rare seeds is near the old Riddle House or the Gaunt shack. Some say that those places are a bit eerie, but the plants that grow there are unlike anything you'll find anywhere else."

Kavya's curiosity was piqued. She had heard stories about the Riddle House and the Gaunt shack from the villagers, tales of tragedy and darkness that surrounded those places.

"I might give it a try," Kavya said, glancing in the direction of the Riddle House. "It sounds like an adventure."

Anjali smiled knowingly. "Just be careful alright? Odd things happen there, especially in that shack."

That didn't deter Kavya's determination. The idea of finding unique seeds was too enticing to ignore. However, she also had another reason to go up to the mansion. She wanted to speak to Tom's father and wanted answers to why he never acknowledged her former friend's existence.

Kavya nodded, grateful for her aunt's concern. After a while, she excused herself and made her way up the hill with Cinnamon following behind her in toe.

The journey seemed to pass by quickly, and before he knew it, the train came to a halt at Little Hangleton. Stepping out onto the platform, Tom took in the quaint and quiet village that seemed untouched by the chaos of the outside world. It was as if time had stood still here.

As he walked through the village, he couldn't help but notice the looks of curiosity and suspicion directed his way. He was a stranger in this place, and it was clear that the villagers were not used to seeing new faces. The people of the village seemed to whisper every time he passed them. They were gossiping about the scandal that happened here. But Tom paid no attention to their stares; he was on a mission, and nothing would deter him.

Until he saw a small shack hidden deep beneath the hill of the Riddle mansion. The shack was small, dilapidated, and thick with filth. The shack was poverty stricken and shabby, there was a dead snake nailed at the front door of the shack.

It was almost as if seeing the dead snake on the door, the dirty shack was calling to him. He took a step forward towards the shack, until he heard a voice from behind him.

"Tom…" Tom knew that voice all too well. A voice that he only lingered in his memories when he's alone thinking of her. He slowly turned around and his gaze fell on Kavya.


I know. This is the worst cliffhanger for a chapter I have ever written and I regret nothing.

I hope you're ready for what's about to happen next because this story has reached a certain point that is pivotal to Tom Riddle's character in the books.

Review.