Tom Riddle origins

July 21, 2010
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He was only a foot or two from his father’s grave. Tom looked mortified down at the grave his eyes brimming with tears, he realised at this moment that he was truly alone. He wished his mother could have been there to understand his plight and pain, but no one could. She was dead before he even got a chance to meet her.
As the melanchology gloom engulfed him, the benevolence and empathy that he had an opportunity to devote himself to, had disappeared along with his family and friends. Unaware of his powers as the blossom of flowers accentuated the cemetery creating a sense of peace within death, he held out his arm and whispered an incantation as if possessed. They all wilted and withered like his heart, the grass went from the most vibrant green to a dull, placid colour.
He was alienated! Alone! Abandoned! Not one person had stood by his side; he remained in this cursed orphanage- it felt like forever to him. He resented the fact that his father had left him when he felt unbelievably confused and tormented by his past. He barely understood who he was and what he could do.

Every morning he would wake up in a cold, sweat and the same recurring nightmare the faces of people he didn’t even know standing over him torturing...him! People he didn’t even know.... Yet?! He had faced too much pain already, he allowed himself to embrace it. He enjoyed the pain, power and the dominance he had over life, testing his magical powers and weighing life and death in his hands. It began on miniscule things a plant, a bug, a beetle just to test himself. It became easier, more bearable after every endurable death until he began to enjoy it an evil smile consumed his face.
One day he decided to test his ability, a snake had been stalking him outside the Orphanage. Fortunately, in the Orphanage he would be allowed specific days outside. He waited patiently anticipating the snake with his back firmly against the wall in a military fashion; he could wait a life time if it was necessary for this snake. A butterfly gently glided by dancing through the air a symphony of motion, in that minute Tom saw the beauty in life what he could of experienced, almost regretted his innermost hatred. Suddenly, an immense snake uncoiled, crushing the butterfly in one smooth stroke, it then continued slithering, swiftly towards Tom. Tom thought he was prepared and primed for an attack.
All at once, something unbelievable happened Tom Riddle for the first time, up until this point, had been outsmarted.

“I can give you what you want...” The snake hissed.
Tom was weakened, wounded, and weary of his family, he would have listened to anyone who offered him the slightest bit of help, like all our forefathers, like every person susceptible to mistrust, like Adam-he listened with great intensity. Every man had this same vulnerability and Tom had plenty of reasons to feel conflicted emotions. The snake of course was Salazar or the devil incarnate to make his dreams come true but at a price, his soul.
At this moment staring at his father’s grave he consolidated his past and how he had been lead to killing his father in cold blood. Tom wanted his life to be perfect to feel a warm sensation plummeting through his heart, the power to control his own destiny, all of this the snake had promised him. Like all of the devils callous deals it came with his price, the filthy blood, the people who held him back had to be destroyed, decapitated, dismantled. The snake had promised him power beyond his wildest dreams, and best of all a chance to escape his inevitable loneliness. In Tom’s tainted eyes it was an easy price to pay, he was not longer a Riddle, he had found his solution in Voldemort. He would not follow in the meagre footsteps of his muggle father.
It was a pitiful irony he thought whilst being attached to Quirrels back and starring into the Mirror of Erised, he recalled this memory. He looked into his own cruel eyes and thought of the envy he felt for Harry on that night with two loving parents happy to embrace him for who he was. It was at this moment that he realised every death, meant nothing. He was completely powerless.

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music_is_my_passion_writing_is_my_soul said...
Dec. 6, 2010 at 8:52 pm
I always wondered about Voldemort's true thoughts (not just the ones that Harry sees). I also like how you made that connection to the Bible!
squidzinkpen said...
Aug. 5, 2010 at 10:00 pm
Wow you're a great writer! You've completely blown me away.
Healing_Angel This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Aug. 7, 2010 at 10:44 pm
Very interesting! I love how you changed the viewpoint and made Voldermort weak.
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