Tom Riddle sat in the back of Borgin and Burkes one afternoon, a blank piece of parchment sitting in front of him, a quill poised in his hand ready to write. He was supposed to be taking inventory of the items he had recently “acquired” by unsavory means, but he found this task to be extremely boring and beneath him.

Item: ~ Owner:

Helga Hufflepuff’s goblet ~ H. Smith

Salazar Slytherin’s locket ~ H. Smith

Shaking his head, he crossed out what he had begun to write, and wrote something else in its place... a letter. Racking his brain, he tried to find the right words to use for his letter, but he found it to be very difficult to write to someone he had never known. Reluctantly, he brought the quill down to the paper, and before long words began to form on the parchment. His heart and soul were pouring themselves out onto the paper.... He couldn’t stop writing, even if he tried....


Dearest Mother,

I must admit, it feels rather odd to be writing to you. Writing to someone I hardly even know, someone who left me so many years ago. As odd as it may sound, I suddenly felt an overwhelming need to write to you. To let you know that although I have never met you, I can’t help but feel a strong connection between us. I don't know exactly how you will receive this letter, seeing as how you are no longer among the living. Perhaps you are looking down on me, reading it as I write it.

To begin, I now am eighteen years old, dear mother. I know that you were just a year older than me when you gave birth to me. Does it seem like it has been that long? Or does time move much more rapidly in the endless existence of the great beyond?

In my short eighteen years on this earth, I have attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I went there as an ordinary boy, gifted with a strange but bewitching ability. Who would have imagined that an ordinary boy living in a Muggle orphanage would eventually have powers greater than most wizards alive? Considering my family origins on my wretched fathers’ side, it was a miracle I had any magical abilities to begin with.

While there, I found myself excelling in all of my classes. I was already making something of myself for the future. In my Fifth year, they made me Prefect. As such, I was given duties to help oversee the younger students, maintain order among them, and to assist the teachers. It was also during this time they awarded me a Medal for Magical Merit for my assistance in capturing a monster that was terrorizing the school. One student died from it. They eventually expelled a boy for it, but little does anyone know it was I who set lose the monster.

In my final year, they named me Head Boy. Having been given more responsibility of administering discipline among the others, I was also in charge of all the Prefects. I fit the role to perfection. I was born to lead others.

Throughout my youth, I had always known there was something different about me, even before I began attending Hogwarts. Because I was so unlike the others at the orphanage, I was never well liked there. I admit that I did awful things to many of the children there and in turn, they eventually grew frightened of me....

One day, after I had become a complete outcast, a strange person came to visit me. He confirmed to me that I, indeed, was different.... In my eyes, I was special. The person told me he was a teacher up at a school where he said I would be going to learn all about my magical heritage. And so, I gladly left the orphanage and attended Hogwarts, where they nurtured my powers to their fullest extent. However I must acknowledge that there was a secret desire of mine that they couldn’t nurture: immortality.
I hunger for the knowledge that would one day lead me to become immortal. Breaking myself from being subjected to the foul Muggle death that awaits even the most powerful wizard alive. You of all people mother, should know about death, having died just after I was born. Living long enough to name me after my imbecile father. Yes, I know all about how you were smitten with him. I know all about your history... OUR history and how I came to be. You had him under a spell, but released him of it, telling him you were a witch. He was furious at you. He left you alone and pregnant, scrounging for shelter and a bit of money. Sixteen years later, I took my revenge upon him. Making him pay the ultimate price for betraying us both.... I took his and his contemptible parents' lives. He suffered those last few moments on earth, finally understanding the pain that we both have had to deal with.

Thinking of my relation to them makes me cringe, but I’ll have you know, I will one day sever myself from their dreaded name. No longer will I be known as Tom Riddle the half-blood... or worse, the Mudblood. I will not be subjected to live by my filthy Muggle father’s name forever.
One day, all those who said nasty things about me will regret it, I assure you. Their comeuppance will arrive as I someday become the greatest sorcerer in the world. A sorcerer with a new name... a name wizards will one day fear to speak.

Before I end this letter, dear mother, I wish to end it on a much more positive note.
You’ll no doubt be pleased to know that many people have expressed to me that I ought to pursue a career in the Ministry of Magic. Instead, I will be moving onto more crucial and beneficial affairs than that. Shortly upon leaving Hogwarts, I had planned on becoming the next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. But Headmaster Dippet turned me down, telling me I am much too young for the job. But I can wait, it will only be a mere matter of time until I’ll gather more experience and wisdom, the old fool can’t turn me down forever....
Sincerely,
Your son,
Thomas Marvolo Riddle
... a.k.a. Lord Voldemort

He picked up the letter and read it. The ink was still wet, causing his freshly written words to run slightly on the parchment, giving them an eerie appearance of black blood. His mouth twisted into an evil smirk. Skimming his letter not once or twice... but three times, he carefully checked every word, every turn of the phrase, before he was eventually satisfied with his work.

Carefully folding the letter in threes, he tucked it into his sweater. Taking his wand out, he gave it a small lazy wave and another piece of parchment landed on the table in front of him. Tapping the parchment words began to form on it. It was his resignation letter to his superiors.

With a satisfied grin, he took the parchment and rolled it up leaving it in a spot they were sure to find it. With one last look of the back room he headed out and out of Borgin and Burkes forever.

It was a frigid, wintry New Year's Eve night as little Tom Riddle sat on the edge of his iron framed bed. He stared intently out onto the starry night sky and snow-covered front lawn before sighing deeply. Closing his eyes on the falling snow, he began to quietly sing Happy Birthday to himself. Tonight, December 31, was his ninth birthday. In his mind, it was a big step in his life. Another year and he would be turning the big double digit. However, nobody in the orphanage remembered or even seemed to care that it was his birthday. Mrs. Cole usually forgot the birthdays of all her orphans, although she tried to remember them. But that wasn't often, as she was usually drunk from one of her drinking binges, which usually took place at least three times a week.

It was sad to say that this year was no exception for her forgetfulness, as unfortunately, the flu virus had broken out among the children and staff, leaving half the occupants of the orphanage very ill. Tom was one of the few fortunate ones who hadn't gotten sick, as he routinely stayed shut up in his room whenever possible so he wouldn't have to be around the other children and their continual taunts toward him. It grew very tiresome for Tom, having the other children constantly stare at him like he was something unpleasant, or whisper about him behind his back.

Though tonight was his birthday, it was no different from any other ordinary night that exceptionally cold winter. The hurried and fast-paced footsteps outside of his room told him that someone had gotten sick again as a loud chorus of screams from the girls could be heard in the distance.

A sad feeling washed over him. Just once he wanted someone, anyone, to remember his birthday. Was that too much to ask for?

Sighing once more, he got up and headed over to his cabinet and opened it up. Sitting inside it was a small stack of white paper folded neatly in half. He took a single sheet from the stack and carefully unfolded it. Tom had stolen the stack of paper from Mrs. Cole's office. To this very day, she never noticed it was missing or suspected Tom of any wrongdoing. Stealing had become a new habit for him. It made him feel powerful and it, even if only momentarily, took his mind off the sadness he often felt overwhelm his young heart.

Along with the paper, he had also stolen a pen from within her desk.

Sitting the paper carefully on his nightstand, he scribbled four words near the top left corner: 'Dear Mother & Father'. It had been a sort of secret tradition of his to write to his parents every year on his birthday. Though all his previous letters were mere childish rambles and whatnot, this letter was the first time he felt he had something important to write.

Another one of my birthdays is here, though no one at the orphanage remembers it. Turning nine is a big step for me. Just another year to go and I'll be turning the big one-o. Though I can't remember either of you, I miss you both so much. Do you remember me? Do you even think of me, wherever you are? I wish I knew why you left me here at this place, as nobody likes me. I have no friends, and everyone thinks I'm weird.

Mrs. Cole spends most of her time drinking and giving out orders to the others. One of her other favorite hobbies is having doctors examine me. She thinks I'm crazy, and I don't know why. The other kids think I'm a freak. I'm sure they're just waiting to send me to the asylum. I'm certain of it. Because of it, I keep everything that happens to me to myself.

One thing I've kept quiet is that just recently, I learned that I can make things move without even touching them. Or I... I know this sounds a bit odd, but I seem to be able to control animals. It's like I can make them move, or do things at my command, but I'm not sure why I can even do it or even how. I haven't tried doing it again in case someone finds out. If anyone found out about what I can do, especially Mrs. Cole, she would surely send me to the asylum.

I really hope that one day, I can leave this place and live in a much better place than here. Please don't forget about me.

Your son,
Tom Riddle

Folding the letter, he placed it carefully back into his cabinet, among the small collection of other letters he'd written in years past. He stacked the letters in a little pile where they would slowly gather dust and wait another year for another letter to be placed on top.

Mum & Dad,

I don't know how to say this exactly, but today, a strange man came to visit me. At first, I thought he was another doctor sent here by Mrs. Cole, but he wasn’t... he was a wizard! He told me that I am a wizard, too! At first, I wasn't sure what to think, or if I even believed him. He seemed kind of weird.

After a moment of him explaining it to me, the whole idea finally started to sink in. Me, a wizard. I am special, it seems. More special than the other children here. I always knew that, though. The man who told me all this seemed concerned about the way I learned how to make the other children feel pain, or how I can make their animals do things at my command. Still, I don't care what he thinks. The other children deserved what they got anyway... especially stupid Billy Stubbs and his brainless pet rabbit. Luckily, Mrs. Cole can’t place the blame on me for hanging his rabbit. Besides, I didn’t actually hang the dreadful thing from the rafters. It hung itself.

I demanded to see proof from this man to see if he was telling me the truth. I hate it when people lie to me, and I know when they do, but I couldn! te t read this man who called himself Dumb-bell-door. I can’t spell his stupid name, but he waved something he called a wand and made my dresser catch fire! Once he put the fire out, the drawer inside my dresser began to shake violently. Dumb-bell-door made me take my drawer out, and empty all the things I had taken from the other children, and give them back.

I didn’t want to, but he was very pushy, so I had to.

However, he said that before I can go enter the wizarding world, I have to learn to abide by their rules. Shouldn’t be a problem, I think. I can always charm them, if need be. And in order for me to go to Hogwarts, I have to buy my school supplies with a trust fund set up for other students that are poor like me. He offered to come along to help me, but I can take care of myself and flatly told him so. I’ve done everything for myself already. Why should this time be any different?

Magic sounds really exciting to learn. I can't wait to discover more about my abilities. Maybe this is wrong of me to say, but learning magic may be the key to having the other children stop thinking I'm a freak - if they all fear me more than they already do now, such as Amy Benson and Denis Bishop. They’re too scared to tell Mrs. Cole about what happened last year at the cave. It never would have gone as far as it did had Amy just admitted she liked me back. But no, she had to be stubborn about it, and stupid Denis had to laugh at me over it.

They both paid dearly for it, suffering from the worst nightmares I could give them. And how they screamed. It was a good thing we were so far away from the others so they couldn't hear... or help. Suffice it to say, Amy and Denis haven’t been the same since that trip.

It will be a relief to finally get away from here as Mrs. Cole is always having these stupid doctors examine me, poking and prodding, trying to see if I am crazy enough to be sent to the asylum. I hate it when she has these people here. I don’t like them very much, as they make me do all these different tests that I really detest. One time I was forced into a frozen pond in winter. Can you believe that? I was left there for 20 minutes before I could leave, and I got very sick because of it. They’ll pay for that. Believe me.

I hate them all for making me go through these tests, but it will be all better in the end. Dumb-bell-door said I would have to return here for the summer months, but still, three months here pales in comparison to the nine months I’ll be away.

Your son,
Tom Riddle


~*~
August 31st


I’m only a few hours away from arriving at Hogwarts. I’m on the school train, watching as the scenery blurs by me. The trip to Diagon Alley was exciting. I’ve never seen anything like it before in boring old London. There were so many witches and wizards around. I couldn’t help but feel as though I’ve finally found my true home. I deeply wanted to explore everything in this new world, but there wasn’t much time until the school year started, so I was a bit rushed.

The most exciting part of my trip came when I bought my very own wand. Though, the man who sold it to me was a strange old codger. He had these large, round eyes that looked as though someone had squeezed him too hard around the middle. He seemed surprised over the wand I bought, but I didn’t care. I’m happy to just have my own magical device to use.

I - Oh, the lunch trolley is here. I’ll leave and end the letter here. I’m beginning a new life now, so I won’t need you two anymore. Perhaps if you’re still alive, you’ll hear about me one day as I become the best wizard ever.

Sincerely,
Tom Riddle