Summary: A complete biography of Lord Voldemort, from birth to death, from
his own POV, with prologue by his mother and epilogue by Harry, Ron,
Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna.
Disclaimer: A few are mine. Everything else is Rowling's. Ha! Now you can't sue!
There is quite a long gap in the Voldemort timeline, between 1945 when he graduates Hogwarts and 1970 when he begins his rise in power, in which he does not much but immerse himself in the Dark Arts. I had to invent rather a lot to fill in the blanks. Also, you'll find a lot of people whose names are repeated. Also, since the HPL said circa 1920 for McGonagall's DOB, I played with it a little and made her exactly Voldemort's age. She hardly seems 75 in book 5, but 68 I can believe. And besides, I had a brilliant inspiration regarding prefects and how the pattern has/will repeat.
I also invented some information, so I could span this across all of Voldemort's lifetime-including books 6 and 7. I plan on writing a few companion fics, but this will be my central focus for a while.
Please review! I love constructive criticism. But this is my first fic, so please don't flame!
The Dark Lord's Lament
Prologue: I Would Die for Thee
Would God I would die for thee, my son!
The words come to me as I lie here, my son. Only hours ago I told your father who I was, what I was, and my heart tore as I saw his revulsion. He left. Washed his hands of me-I, his love-and you, my child. All I have left of my Tom. He has left this house, his parents' house, where I now live.
But you shall not die.
I shall in your place.
I love you, my child. With all that is left of my shattered and shredded heart, I love you. But I am afraid that you will never know that. Never know love.
All I know is that I can feel the life seep away from me like sand out of tightly clenched hands. It would be easier to release the life, but still I hold on, determined to bring more out of it. I will not die and let you die as well. You will live, my son, my little Tom.
Tom.
Your father's name. You are Tom Marvolo. Marvolo, the name of my father, Tom, your father.
"Almost, Miss..."
A maid in the household serves as the midwife. I ignore her. I will know when you are born, little Tom. But she is right. A final push, and I hear you cry. It is like music.
She wipes you off and wraps you in a blanket, laying you on my chest. You look up at me and smile. I notice that a tear drops from my eye onto your face, looking like your own. I hug you to me.
"Tom," I whisper your name in your ear. "You are Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle." You whimper slightly, and I stroke the slight fuzz of black fur on the top of your head. "It's all right, little Tom."
And he quiets, falling peacefully asleep. I look down at the sleeping child in my arms and kiss you, knowing that you shall never see me again, nor will I see you. I lean back against the pillows and smile.
I love you, Tom.
Disclaimer: A few are mine. Everything else is Rowling's. Ha! Now you can't sue!
There is quite a long gap in the Voldemort timeline, between 1945 when he graduates Hogwarts and 1970 when he begins his rise in power, in which he does not much but immerse himself in the Dark Arts. I had to invent rather a lot to fill in the blanks. Also, you'll find a lot of people whose names are repeated. Also, since the HPL said circa 1920 for McGonagall's DOB, I played with it a little and made her exactly Voldemort's age. She hardly seems 75 in book 5, but 68 I can believe. And besides, I had a brilliant inspiration regarding prefects and how the pattern has/will repeat.
I also invented some information, so I could span this across all of Voldemort's lifetime-including books 6 and 7. I plan on writing a few companion fics, but this will be my central focus for a while.
Please review! I love constructive criticism. But this is my first fic, so please don't flame!
The Dark Lord's Lament
Prologue: I Would Die for Thee
Would God I would die for thee, my son!
The words come to me as I lie here, my son. Only hours ago I told your father who I was, what I was, and my heart tore as I saw his revulsion. He left. Washed his hands of me-I, his love-and you, my child. All I have left of my Tom. He has left this house, his parents' house, where I now live.
But you shall not die.
I shall in your place.
I love you, my child. With all that is left of my shattered and shredded heart, I love you. But I am afraid that you will never know that. Never know love.
All I know is that I can feel the life seep away from me like sand out of tightly clenched hands. It would be easier to release the life, but still I hold on, determined to bring more out of it. I will not die and let you die as well. You will live, my son, my little Tom.
Tom.
Your father's name. You are Tom Marvolo. Marvolo, the name of my father, Tom, your father.
"Almost, Miss..."
A maid in the household serves as the midwife. I ignore her. I will know when you are born, little Tom. But she is right. A final push, and I hear you cry. It is like music.
She wipes you off and wraps you in a blanket, laying you on my chest. You look up at me and smile. I notice that a tear drops from my eye onto your face, looking like your own. I hug you to me.
"Tom," I whisper your name in your ear. "You are Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle." You whimper slightly, and I stroke the slight fuzz of black fur on the top of your head. "It's all right, little Tom."
And he quiets, falling peacefully asleep. I look down at the sleeping child in my arms and kiss you, knowing that you shall never see me again, nor will I see you. I lean back against the pillows and smile.
I love you, Tom.