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.