I do not own these characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling.

Nobody Exactly Knows

Chapter One:

The joy of killing James Potter filled his cold, empty heart. Killing Lily Potter made him laugh, for she needed not to die. Her husband, good-for-nothing James Potter, did not need to die either. It was their son that he desired. He desired to kill little Harry Potter, who was just over a year old. The boy was now a year and three months now. Still, he desired to kill the baby boy.

Much less to say, it failed. For some reason, he could not kill the little boy; it seemed that there was some sort of power that rebounded off of him. The power had sent him to wherever this place was. Limbo, perhaps.

A prickling, heartless, blood-curdling voice in the back of his mind told him that the power was love. It seemed that this thing called love had some sort of play in his downfall.

Love. What a stupid thing, and the world, sadly, was full of it. He never knew of it, nor did he want to. The word itself made him shiver in pure disgust. It made him want to scream in anger.

He knew that he was safe for now, and that he was not dead. Six parts of his soul were out there. He only knew what he had stored his items in- the diary, the ring, the locket, the diadem, the cup and his pet snake named Nagini. But where they were exactly located, he did not know.

All he knew was that Lucius Malfoy had the diary he never used when he was young and naïve. He knew that Bellatrix Lestrange- his most faithful servant of all time- had the goblet of Helga Hufflepuff in her vault down in Gringotts. He knew that the diadem of Ravenclaw was lost, nobody would ever find it!

The other three? He did not know their locations. There was no knowledge of where they were in him.

Little did Tom Marvolo Riddle- well, he used that name long ago, when he was a Hogwarts student, know he is known by the name of Lord Voldemort- know that on that fateful night, he had created seven of them. There were now seven of the Horcruxes.

He also did not know that the seventh one- the one that he did not mean to even make- would be the cause of his downfall in only sixteen or so years.

And so, without any given reason at all, he laughed.