Riddle's Plea

Dark Thoughts*

(T.M.R December 24th, 1943)

    "I thought you was that Muggle, you look mighty like that Muggle."

    "What Muggle?"

    "That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in the big house over the way , you look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in 'e? He's older 'n you, now I think on it...he come back, see."

    "Riddle came back?"

    "Ar, he left her, and serves her right, marrying filth! Robbed us, mind, before she ran off! Where's the locket, eh? Where's Slytherin's locket? Dishonoured us, she did, that little slut! And who're you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit....it's over..."

    "Stupefy!" The red light blazed from his wand at the disheveled Morfin Gaunt. Having taken the wand from his disgrace of an Uncle when he first entered the shack. Morfin flies through the air, his back hitting the wall and causing the whole damned shack to shake with the force. He slumps into the ground, his greasy disgusting hair covering his face and his stench filling my nose. My vision has blurred with the words of Morfin, the magic around me crackling and begging to be released.  "I thought you was that Muggle, you look mighty like that Muggle." 

     My eyes roam the shack, not seeing anything but red and the breath leaving my body in short spurts. To say I was angry was an understatement. After all this time, it turned out that my loving father was still very much alive. My eyes snap to the black window, having not been cleaned in some time and letting no light into the dark shack."That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in the big house over the way , you look right like him."  My face scrunches up with the remembrance of Morfin's words.  "Scourgify." As quick as lightning the black window becomes crystal clear revealing cracks along the panes and distorting the outside world. I take steady steps up to the window, peering through the cracked glass and gazing upon a mansion in the distance. Not only is my father alive, but he also appears to be extremely wealthy. My magic rears it's dark and ugly head, shattering the glass in the window completely, spraying the newly fallen snow with deadly shards.

    I take ungraceful steps away from the window, my strides clumsy and practically uncontrolled. "Ar, he left her, and serves her right, marrying filth!" He left her. He left my mother. He left me. Before I could even comprehend my own actions, I'm stalking towards the shack door, roughly pulling it open and causing it to become unattached to the hinges. The door flies behind me as I make my way outside, my eyes ablaze and my mind tumultuous. Only the sound of the snow crunching beneath my black shoes were heard as I made my way up to the manor. It loomed over me as I made my way up to the door, the sleek but aging mahogany door stood before me, and I point Morfin's wand at the expensive thing. "Reducto." My voice was filled with conviction and determination, it didn't waver and I didn't even flinch from the blast. Splinters of wood fly into the foyer of the lavish mansion, eliciting a shocked cry from somewhere inside the manor. 

    I smirk as I step inside the house, the remnants of the door crunching underneath my feet and the sounds of scuffling reaching my ears. "Knock. Knock." I call out, my voice not even recognizable to me as my keen eyes scour the paths to different rooms. To the left of me a quiet whimper reaches my ears and my smirk grows more. I make my way down the hall, as silent as a snake, barely breathing and my magic practically purring with what I'm about to do. In front of me two mahogany doors appear, closed tightly and presumably locked. A flick of my wrists throws up the two doors and I'm walking into a den. Luxurious sofas encircle a marbled fireplace that is crackling with recently added wood, and paintings line the plain grey walls with noblemen that are my ancestors. To the right of the room is a towering bookcase, filled with measly muggle books, and a lavish table with chairs sits before it. The room is not at all cluttered, everything having a place and an order that I would have appreciated if it weren't for my anger. 

    My eyes falls upon three huddled figures in the corner, two of them have almost white hair from old age, their frightened faces filled with wrinkles and shock. They'll die soon anyway. The other figure is standing in front of them, arms spread wide in an act of protection. Morfin seemed to have been right, and it irritates me to no end. Tom Riddle Snr. looks very much wealthy, snobbish, and not to mention the spitting older version of myself. His hair also has specks of grey within it, and his finely chiseled jaw is clenched in determination. He's no match for me. "Hello father." I spit out the words, not bothering to hide the disgust from my face as I watch Riddle Snr's eyes grow wide in confusion and shock. "Don't act so surprised." I say to him my hand twitching with a need to kill. "I have no children." He says, gulping nervously and eyes becoming skeptical. I chuckle darkly at his words, and revel in the fact it makes the three muggles flinch further into their corner. "Let me tell you a little story. Mind if I sit?" I say, raising an eyebrow and waving a hand towards one of the lavish sofas. I shrug my shoulders with the lack of response and fall easily into the black sofa, propping my feet up onto the table within the middle of the circle. "Once upon a time, there was a witch by the name of Merope Gaunt," I begin as I watch Riddle Snr's eyes grow wider and his body tense. "She lived a horrible life. Abused every day by her father and brother for her lack of magic. The house in which she lived was nothing more than a disgusting shack, filled to the brim with dirt and disease. All seemed hopeless to Merope, but then she met a handsome muggle by the name of Tom Riddle. Merope knew that she loved him, but also knew that the Tom Riddle would never love her, so she slipped him a love potion. The two ran off together, marrying and she became blissfully happy. Merope then stupidly thought that Tom Riddle would stay with her, so she stopped giving him the love potion. Tom Riddle then came to his senses, and left her and his unborn child to live on the streets.  On the night of December 31st, 1926, Merope stumbled into an orphanage in London and there gave birth to the child, and subsequently died just moments after." I now had all three of the Riddle's attention trained on me, and I quickly stand taking a few steady paces towards them. "She only lived long enough to name the child." I say, my face growing dark and my magic cracking, causing the lights within the room to flicker. "Tom Marvolo Riddle." A quiet gasp is heard from what I presume is my grandmother, but my eyes stay trained on my father. "My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle." 

    There is nothing but silence after my confession. My father stands before me, his mouth opening and closing in rapid succession. I could practically hear their beating hearts from where I stood, my smirk growing ever wider and my eyes becoming darker. "You left her. You left me. I was raised in a filthy orphanage. Believing my whole life that my parents were dead. But now, I know." I raised Morfin's wand towards him, his eyes growing wide in fear and his body trembling. "And now, both of my parents will be dead." A frightened whimper escapes Tom Riddle Snr as my magic roars, causing the light bulbs within the room to burst and fill the room with darkness. Only the light of the fireplaces remains, but even it is dark in essence, the shadows falling fittingly on my enraged face. "Avada..." The words stop falling from my lips as I'm distracted by a flash of white in my peripheral vision. My head snaps to the doors of the den in confusion, someone was here, and I was going to find them. I take a glance back to the three muggles in the corner, knowing very well they wouldn't be able to escape me even if they tried, and stepped out into the dark hallway. It's quiet for a few moments as I listen carefully for sound. I hear nothing other than the occasional whimper from the muggles behind me and my own beating heart. I sigh heavily as I backtrack into the den. "Now where were we..." Once again my words are halted, but not because of a figure in the corner of my eyes. This time it's because of the figure standing in front of my relatives, wand at the ready and her own jaw set in determination. "Vienna."