Ambrosia • TMR

20.5

Me posting a 8,000 word preview instead of a actual chapter? We love that. But on a real note i've been gone for like forever.. and my chapter 21(?) is still in the works. I don't wanna throw something short at y'all after waiting a whole 6 months soooo be a lil patient.

This is Diary Tom/ Female harry AU of sorts where Voice in the head Tom raises Harry.

October 31st, 1981
{Godric's Hallow}

Tom Riddle

It was a rather rainy night. Wind pounded against houses and rain bore heavily onto paved roads. Yellow tinted overhead lights reflected off of the wet tar as cars drove by without a care. In the (more than) slightly unhinged mind of Voldemort, it was a nice night. Although, any night was nice when you were untouchable. Immortal. When you've laughed in death's face and got away with it.

Not too far in the distance he could spot singular figures outlined by the glow of different street lights. It wasn't hard to guess that they were muggle prostitutes by the way they loitered around. He was sure his red eyes glittered with a certain sort of bloodlust the moment he noticed them.

They would just be so easy to kill. With no one except the occasional car passing, it would definitely be easy. Too easy for his taste. So even as his slim fingers twitched toward his wand and he grasped it, he told himself he wouldn't enjoy such an easy kill.

The green spell left his wand without it's name rolling off of his tongue. It's target was randomized as he really didn't care who it hit. Pleasurable shivers trailed up his spine at the use of dark magic but he felt nothing as he watched a woman fall to the ground, dead. The other women ignored the incident but began speed walking away conspicuously.

He didn't mind. Boring as the muggle woman was, boring as she went. He wouldn't lie, he did want the pleasure just using the green spell gave him. For good luck, if you will. A murder a day seemed to keep dear old Morty at bay.

A house stood atop of a hill. It was a cozy little thing. Lights on and fireplace roaring, if the smoke was anything to go by. The Potter's really weren't trying to be subtle, were they? Although, they were protected under one of the strongest (light) hiding spells. So, their comfort was understandable. Unfortunately for the Potter family, their little secret keeper had a big mouth and they were being hunted by the greatest Dark Lords to exist. This would, in his incontestable opinion, be their downfall.

Voldemort roughly translated to 'Flight from death' in the French language. The translation described him perfectly if he has to say so. Obviously he would stop at nothing to make sure anything that weighted on his wings was removed. That's why he was staring at the house atop the hill twirling his bone white yew wand. Because Freida Potter and her prophecy were direct threats him. And that was one thing that was never going to slide.

Generally threats to him, direct or not, weren't taken kindly and were dealt with in a way that left no ends untied. When he could spare the time to find the one who declared this prophecy, they would be next on his hit list. Maybe he could even get them onto his side with a bit of persuasion. Absently, he dropped a ward stone onto the front lawn without pausing in his walk. With a controlled pulse of his magic, the runes for an anti-apparition ward lit upon it's surface.

He was in Godric's Hallow for a purpose, after all. There was really no need to give them an escape route. Trapped before they even knew it. The curtains fluttered in the front window and he barely missed the sight of who had been looking. It truly didn't matter if they had a 5 second head start. It was already too late for the Potter family.