A/N: A short little ficlet on Tom Riddle's first manual murder.
Tom Riddle felt the sharp wind slap his face...but there was no wind in the humid July air. No, everything about him was unnaturally still. Was this a sign that he was nervous? Could he possibly be afraid of what he was about to do?
No, a voice inside his head said firmly, you will go through with it.
Tom shook the thought out of his mind. He was being a prat now. Hearing voices. Only mad men heard voices. A wave of heat sweapt over him as he passed by a lively inn full of people. He wrinkled up his nose in dislike.
Mudlboods, he thought, having their beer and getting themselves intoxicated. Petty fools... he walked past the pub muttering to himself about Muggles taking up too much space and wasting his time. Like his father.
Tom came upon a dense clump of trees, so he sat down within them, resting his aching feet: it had been days since he had left the Muggle orphanage. Being sixteen, the legal age for a Muggle to think for themselves, he had left the 'home', and had practically spat in Ms. Dome's, the care taker, face. He laughed at his actions. He did not notice, but the laugh was not the same merry laugh of a child, but one quickly developing into a man's - and not just any man - a vicius, cold, killing man's laugh. He was not quite there yet, but once he had accomplished his business of the night, he would be changed forever...
Tom pulled out a book and attempted to read to the pale moonlight shining down on his jet black hair through the treetops. But his mind kept wandering. He was in the chamber of secrets; he was setting a basilisk loose on a Mudlblood; he was telling Professor Dippet that Hagrid was the heir of Slytherin; he was making his mind up to leave the orphanage; he was yelling at Ms. Dome; and then he was here again...
A rustling in the distance made Tom turn in a new wave of guilt. Nothing was there. Just the wind... said the voice in his head in the same cold tone. Tom, determined to keep the 'voice' out of his head, started to read the book:
...To perform an Unforgivable properly... Tom snapped the book shut with a sigh. It was not helping. He would just have to get up and keep going, focus on what he was doing. So he jumped up, pulled his dark cloak hood over his head and walked on through the dark valley.
After a good fifteen minutes' time of walking and brooding, Tom came up to a large hill. It was paved, unlike the rest of the town, even the main roads. Before it was a high brick wall and cast-iron gates bearing the name "RIDDLE" across it. Tom grinned triumphantly. This was it.
No turning back now he thought. Not that I ever considered it, he added hastily to himself. He was not about to give up on this. He pushed open the unlocked gates and walked up the high hill. To his right was a small cottage. None of the lights were on, but he could feel someone watching him; however, he did not seem to care: he once-glanced it, and kept walking. For each last minute thoughts of backing out sprang through his blackening mind, it was replaced by one of pride.
He came up to the door: a large, black yew wood door with a knocker like the head of a lion. "Bloody lions...stupid so-called 'bravery' that damned Gryffindor posessed. Nothing, nothing compared to the strengths of Slytherin...of me..." he whispered aloud, taking out his wand and cursing the knocker away. With another smirk of glee, he then knocked the door down with a sound so soft it could barely be heard by Tom himself.
It didn't take Tom long to find his father and grandparents: they were just sitting down to dinner when he found them. Quietly, he crept along around them, and pointed his wand at the back of his grandfather's head.
"Avada Kedavra!" he cried, and his grandfather fell over onto the Asian-patterned carpet. He watched with pure pleasure as his father and grandmother hurried to his side.
"Marvolo!" the elderly woman said in a panicking whisper.
"Father!" he heard his own father yell from the other side of the wall Tom was hiding behind.
Before they could fetch anyone, Tom jumped out from behind the wall and, with a few well-chosen words and a flick of his wand, killed his grandmother.
"What did you do?" his father yelled, rounding on him with an unmasked look of terror on his face.
Tom smiled silkily at him. "I've killed them...Killing Curse..."
"Who are you?" Tom Senior spat disdainfully, backing away from Tom.
"No..." Tom said in a deadly whisper, "you wouldn't know me...would you?"
"What're you talking about?" Tom Senior said unevenly, hitting the small of his back on a counter laden with food.
"Don't know me, do you?" Tom said, approaching his father in a slow stride.
"Why did you kill them?" Tom Senior yelled in utter horror, edging along the counter.
"Oh, don't be prat...Mudbloods do not deserve to walk the Earth..." Tom said in the same dark monotone, his wand now pointed at his father.
"'Mudblood'? What do you mean? Who are you?" Tom Senior repeated, feeling his way to the door on the far side of the room.
"Mudblood, fool...you know naught of magic! You left my mother. You left her to die. You left her...just like you left me. You found out what she was and you fled like the cowarding Mudblood you are!" Tom yelled, advancing quickly on Tom Senior.
Realization had apparently just hit him, for he stopped moving. "You're...you're Aiyah Baccha's son...the witch's boy...you're corrupt..." Tom Senior said in a whisper matching his son's.
"That's right, Father. I am the boy whose mother died during childbirth; the boy who had no father. I am here to take back what you took from me, from what you took from my mother," Tom said softly, a smile overcoming his face.
"Wh- what do you mean?" Tom Senior said, becoming fully unaware that he should be trying to get away from Tom.
"That I must kill you. Yes, it is my first step to greatness. First, I will rid myself of the Mudblood father that I never knew, then I will gain powers that Dumbledore has never seen. Last, Father, I will gain followers and the hundreds of Mudblood fools I kill will only be the beginning..." Tom said in a harsh whisper, coming closer to his father.
Tom Senior's face became distorted as Tom's own eyes turned from a half-scared boy's, to a man's covered by blind hatred. All he saw before him was a Mudblood needing to be punished. His cold eyes narrowed and he raised the wand high in the air, bringing it down slowly so that it was pointed at his father's forehead -
As Tom Senior fell, a new chapter began in Tom Marvolo Riddle's life.