Before He Was Voldemort (A Tom Riddle Fanfiction)

Prologue: What Could Have Been

May, 1998

The Dark Lord traveled through the opaque, dark skies of the night, the only indication of light in sight being the faint gleam of the crescent moon. He leaves a black trail of smoke behind him, Muggle passerby below mistaking him for ominous black clouds. Foolish Muggles, he thought, and for a moment he contemplated on taking out every single one of them right then and there. But he decided against it, for he had one mission and one mission only tonight.

Voldemort landed before a wrought iron gate of an old brick townhouse located in the outskirts of London. The exterior of the home was in the exact same condition as it was the last time he visited it. He slipped the Elder Wand that was now in his possession into the sleeve of his billowing black robes, for he would not be needing it tonight. Then he breathed in deeply through his nose slits, and Apparated inside the home.

The lounge he now stood in was nearly pitch-black, reeking of must and mildew, poorly lit by a small lamp on the side table. Again, the home was exactly the same. Gazing around the room, there was clearly no sign of the owner of the house in which he came to visit. He Apparated again, this time into the upstairs bedroom.

The sound of his Apparation did not wake up the elderly woman that was in a deep slumber in her bed. Her bedroom was completely unlit except for the moonlight that cast through the crack in the white lace curtains adorning the window. Voldemort slowly stepped further into the room, taking in the old woman's appearance.

For a second, he thought the old woman was dead, she was so still. She was sickly pale and thin, and was obviously not in good health just by the mere sight of her. The covers were pulled up to her chest, her bony hands clasped together over her stomach. With each wheezy breath she took through her partly agape mouth, it sounded like it was a great struggle to inhale and exhale. Watching the elderly woman sparked something unknown and strange inside of Voldemort, and a vision began to play in his head:

"Tom! Tom, come quick!"

With his wand gripped tightly in his fist and his shirt halfway-bottoned, Tom Riddle rushed into the living room with wide eyes, half expecting there to be an intruder. Once his eyes settled on the scene before him, his entire face softened and he dropped his wand.

Corinne, his wife of nearly ten years, was sitting on her knees on the floor, her eyes and smile wide with excitement as she watched the young infant in front of her struggling to crawl for the first time. She clapped her hands encouragingly as the baby boy tried again, this time his chubby arms and legs propelling him forward a few inches. Tom couldn't help but smile at the sight of his wife laughing with glee and bringing the baby into her arms, pressing kisses to the little boy's hair.

Noticing Tom's presence, Corinne stood up and walked over to him, carrying their child in her arms. "Can you believe he's crawling already?" she asked incredulously, smiling down at the baby boy, who was reaching for his mother's hair. "I think he's going to be an overachiever like you were."

Tom chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his son's forehead, causing the baby to erupt in a fit of giggles. This triggered laughs from both Tom and Corinne, whose eyes met when they looked up. Their son began to wriggle in Corinne's arms, so she went over and placed him in his wicker bassinet nearby, shortly returning before Tom again. Her hands found the undone buttons of his shirt and buttoned them for him with ease, her fingers brushing up his bare chest, sending pleasant shivers down his body. Then his hands met Corinne's hips, pulling her closer to him.

"I love you, Tom," whispered Corinne, smiling and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Tom always struggled with saying 'I love you' back, only because he'd had no experience with the term during his childhood or the majority of his time at Hogwarts. That all changed when he met Corinne, and he was still getting used to the fact that this woman loved and accepted him no matter what he did in his past.