31st December 1926- Aged 0
In the year 1926, on New Year's Eve, a miraculous being was born in the most unworthy of conditions, pulled screaming and crying into a world that was not ready for his presence, and perhaps, it never would be. The snowstorm outside battered the windows of the rundown orphanage with careless brutality, unwavering in the face of the new life taking its first breath inside that very moment.
The caretakers stared out of the windows with worry, flinching at every sharp whistle of wind that rattled the windowpanes, shivering as the frigid breeze crept through the cracks. They bustled on, however, feeling an almost compulsive need to help the babe survive the night, which they were sure the mother would not, with how sickly pale she was becoming.
" I will.-will name him... Tom..." Her lips were chapped, skin sunken, eyes hollow, and the young matron near her could not help but jerk back at the sound of her raspy voice.
" Tom?" She repeated, taking a single step closer so that she could take a peek down at the newly named boy. He looked sweet, all ten fingers, all ten toes- unlike his mother- and she couldn't help but wonder who would have decided to father a child with a woman like this one. She snapped out of those thoughts at the sound of the woman's throaty cough, grimacing as she clutched the child closer to her chest.
" Tom... after-after his father. Marvolo, after..." There was a pause. "Riddle." The woman- and that was all they knew her as, as she had not deigned to give them a name before she began labour- was beginning to slump, her words slow and slurred, like a drunk.
" Ma'am?" The matron shook her shoulder jarringly as her head began to droop.
" Yes, yes... Tom...Marvolo Riddle. My sweet child." She gazed adoringly down at the bundle within her arms, breathing growing more and more ragged by the second. She began to worry, fretting over the loosening hold she had on the child, who was beginning to slip from his blanket. " I wish... I had...a little more..." Her voice cut off with a sudden sharp rasp, eyes bulging as she slowly turned a grotesque shade of blue, choked noises gargling from her throat. Watching was all Miss Cole could do, as the woman ducked her head to stare at the child once more before her chest stopped moving, and that fondness in her eyes dimmed.
The wails of the newly orphaned infant rang throughout the orphanage like church bells, echoed by distant cheers of the people welcoming the beginning of the new year.
April 1932- Aged 5
Tom Riddle- or freak, as the children of the orphanage frequently liked to chant at him- sat alone in a small clearing in the woods, staring at the levitating leaf above his palm with intense concentration. It jerked unnaturally in the air, swaying as if it was attached to a piece of string, before beginning to turn slowly.
He had recently discovered this fascinating ability of his, to be able to influence things around him without touching them. Such as the leaf, which was slowly beginning to crumble under his attention. Soon, all that was left was a small pile of dust on his palm, and he let it fall to the floor, tipping his hand and watching the dust sparkle slightly.
Magic.
Tom allowed a grin to appear on his face at the realisation of just what this power meant, to be able to do things he had heard no other outside of fairytales could. He had always known that he was special and, having this ability just proved that. Staring up at the bleak visage of the orphanage that he could spot peeking out from the top of the trees, he swore that he'd achieve greatness no matter what if only to leave this place behind.
" Oi, Tommy boy! Come an' do tha dishes will yer! Stop sittin' there lookin' gormless, we ain't got all day!" The shrill cry of one of the few caretakers, wiped the smile off of his face, replacing it with a frown. Tom allowed his hands to curl, face scrunching up, his magic singeing the grass around him. He hated them, the pathetic creatures that thought they could order him around like a dog! One day, when he learnt to control his magic, he'd get them back, and show everyone just how powerful he was!
" Tommy, Hurry up!"
November 1938- Aged 11
Tom was walking towards the library when it happened. A group of Purebloods from his own house had cornered him and purposefully walked into him so that they would have an excuse to belittle him. Not as if they always waited for an excuse, but they decided to today.
"Mudblood, watch where you're walking! What if you infect us with your diseases!" One of the boys taunted, the group gathered around him snickering. " I don't even know why they allow your kind in here, your obviously not worthy of being taught where Purebloods such as us learn." Another round of giggles.
Tom simply glared at them, his nose upturned as he stared down at them.
"My apologies, I didn't realise this was the school for pureblooded dimwits. Is there somewhere else I could transfer to, somewhere that has a bit more... competition."
"How dare you, Riddle! When my father hears about this, you won't be acting so snarky then!"
" But your father won't actually hear about it, will he Malfoy? After all, isn't he oh so busy in the Wizengamot? Surely he doesn't have the time to spare on his son's school squabbles." He turned, heading into the library to return his books and pick up some new ones.
" Riddle! Riddle, don't turn your back on me! Hey!"
" I'm busy at the moment, Malfoy. Maybe I'll have some time to chat later."
" Riddle!"
June 1944- Aged 17
Tom Marvolo Riddle stumbled down the slippery steps of the Chamber of Secrets, cursing as he clung to the moss-ridden walls. He looked around with disgust as he finally reached the bottom, coming to a stop before the door that had caught his eye the last time around.
It was smaller than most, almost unnoticeable to the eye with how it blended into the walls on either side. But that's why it had caught his. He knew that something must be hiding behind it: otherwise, the creator wouldn't have put any thought into trying to hide it, even from other descendants.
Inching closer- he was not scared, just wary, was all -Tom rested his palm against the wood and began to hiss. " Open for me, the last descendent of the Slytherin line." It didn't budge, and for a few moments, he stood there in silence, frowning murderously at the wood as if it had committed the world's worst crime. Then, it began to descend into the floor slowly, opening up to reveal a grand library.
Tom was in awe, stepping forward into the cavernous hall that had no right being this big, not whist existing under Hogwarts. The carpet under his feet still felt plush and soft, and for a moment, he felt self-conscious about how dirty he was in a place of such grandeur.
He brushed that thought away immediately, scowling to himself. He had the right to be here more than anyone, as the descendent of Slytherin, dirty or not.
Marching forwards with purpose, he browsed the shelves, picking out books that peaked his fancy. And there were a lot of them. 'Who knew that Merlin himself had written a book on Necromancy?' He cackled internally at the thought of Dumbledore's face if he ever got his hands on this book written by the supposed figurehead of 'all things good and light', as he had been coined by the Transfiguration Professor only a few lessons ago.
The conveniently placed chairs and tables dotted around the room were a blessing for his ever-growing thirst for knowledge, stopping every so often to crack open a book that had been distracting him for too long. One such book was about magical compulsions that could go undetected by most wixen, which he stashed within his robes for later reading.
It was hours before he finally reached the end of the library, and he knew that it was soon approaching the time he'd have to leave. Before he could turn around to make his way back, a book sitting innocently on the desk caught his eye, still opened on a page. Tom curiously made his way to it, reading the contents with growing hunger, the books once cradled carefully in his arms laying forgotten at the edge of the desk.
This was it. This was the goal he would strive for.
Tom Riddle smiled down at the pages and erased the name that blemished the parchment with relish, writing in its space one that filled him with satisfaction.
Thomas Marvolo Slytherin.
June 1945- Aged 18
" My apologies, my boy, but you are simply much too young for this position. My, you'll only have just graduated! No, no, much too young, you'd be better off going and getting a mastery beforehand. I'm positive that you'd gain it easily, within a couple of years at most, and I'd be happy to have you join the staff in a few years if you're still interested?" Dippet was fluttering again, waving his hands about in an attempt to placate him, who did not need the man's apologies and promises.
" That is reasonable, Headmaster. It was quite silly of me to think that such a prestigious school would accept staff straight out of education, with nothing to back them up." He smiled genially down at the old wizard, making sure to not show the man too many teeth in the process. Some of them had begun to sharpen in the past few weeks, a side effect of the rituals he had performed. It was a small price to pay for greatness, and he knew that one day, nobody would dare comment on his appearance.
" My boy, don't downplay your abilities! You are one of the finest Wizards to ever grace Hogwarts' walls, and I'm sure the founders are mightily proud of you. My only concern is your age."
And wasn't that what it always was? Age. Such a constraint, one that he was glad to finally have gotten rid of once he'd entered his adult years, that had kept him locked in that muggle hovel for eighteen years and counting.
He would have that filthy place torn to the ground when he ruled one day and have a grand palace built in its place, so lavish that it would be a sickening display of wealth that he'd equally loathe and covet its existence.
" Of course, sir, I understand." And he'd rebuilt Hogwarts from the inside out, too. Starting with the staff who'd gotten much too complacent in their cushy jobs, the teaching standards no longer what they used to be. There was a ghost teaching History of Magic, for Merlin's sake!
" Why, teaching might not even be your calling! I'd always pinned you as a politician, you know. Minister, perhaps, one day in the future. And I'd be cheering you on the whole way, do not doubt that, Tom."
A glint entered his eyes. " Oh, and what would you say makes me a politician, sir?"
1948- Aged 21
" You could have been a great politician, my boy, with that mind of yours. It's a shame to see it wasted on such destruction." Dumbledore shook his head in mocking sadness, eyes twinkling maddeningly and his wand pointed towards his opponent despite his innocent expression. They had been in a standoff for the past few minutes, the gathered crowds around them holding their breaths as arguably the two most powerful wizards in the world duked it out.
" Oh, shut it you old coot! You're just as morally reprehensible as I am, I just don't hide it behind the grandfatherly facade you've worked so hard to perfect!" Lord Slytherin shouted, gritting his teeth. His Knights shifted protectively behind him as Dumbledore took a step forward, a concerned expression marring his features.
" Oh, no, dear boy, what I am doing is for the greater good!"
" You deluded fool! You don't see it, do you? You're destroying this world and the culture that we have developed and protected over millennia to appease those prejudiced muggles!"
" They are muggle-borns, Tom, people with magic, just like you. They deserve as much of a say in the way our world heads as we do, raised by muggles as they were. Just like you."
" No. No, they do not. Our culture shouldn't have to be stripped from us just because they were raised in a different one that deems our practices barbaric! I excepted our culture, but they- they want to replace it with Christian equivalents-" He was getting too emotional, he needed to rein it in, but the man just wasn't listening and never listened to him-
Dumbledore took his moment of distraction as an opportunity and shot a spell at him lightning quick. He blocked it, barely, staring wide-eyed at the other.
"You are wrong, Tom. Unfortunately, for the greater good, you and those who share your opinions must be eradicated." His eyes no longer twinkled and were instead stony with indifference.
June 1950- Aged 23
"My Lord." Lord Slytherin looked to the side to see one of his most loyal followers, Abraxas Malfoy, kneeling respectfully, head bowed. His silver hair glinted in the sunlight, and it wasn't for the first time that Tom took a few moments to admire his follower's unique features. His lip quirked smugly at seeing the boy who had once been the bane of his existence in his early years at Hogwarts turned into a subservient, loyal dog.
"Abraxas, what news do you bring?" He drawled, delighting in the flinch he received, amused at the shiver.
"The Order of the Phoenix has been suppressed, My Lord. Their leader, Albus Dumbledore, has fled the country in fear of your power and left the rebels behind with no forewarning. They are currently scrambling about without his instruction, and many have been captured."
Lord Slytherin smiled gleefully, stroking the white chess piece on the board in front of him with a single finger, before flicking it off of the table. "Yes, just as I had planned." His voice was a pleased hiss, sending shudders down the spines of those within earshot. "Abraxas, send out the word: Britain has been conquered, and other countries are soon to follow. Remind them that it would be best for them to surrender now than face inevitable, unneeded losses."
" Yes, My Lord."
"Hm, no." Abraxas looked up in confusion, recoiling as he saw the cheery expression on his childhood friend's face. "Call me...Emperor. It is more fitting now, yes? Seeing as how I will soon be the ruler of my own Empire."
Abraxas swallowed and croaked out a hesitant "Yes, my Emperor."
Tom cackled, delighting in the way those around him flinched away in fright as he stood, magic roiling off him in dense ways. "Yesss, It does have a nice ring to it. My ancestor was correct in that. His majesty, Emperor Slytherin, the sole ruler of the magical world."
Word Count: 2.6k
Last Edited: 03/07/22- +640 words
