The monsters of our childhood do not fade away, neither are they ever wholly monstrous. - John Le Carre

Harry knocked on the door anxiously as Ron and Hermonie faced the street, watching for any possible Death Eaters. He had to know who the mysterious woman mentioned in R.A.B's note was. Harry looked down, reading the lines again,

To the Dark Lord

I know I will be dead long before you read this

but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.

I would like you to know that it was the lose of Eleanor, not the creation of the Horcrux,

that destroyed your soul and made you into the inhuman creature that you are.

I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,

you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B

In their last days at Hogwarts, Hermione had searched the old school yearbooks from Voldemort's years at school for anything that mentioned Eleanor. She found a picture of Tom and a girl leading the first dance at the Yule Ball. Hermione had also found the girl's portrait, under which had read Eleanor Jouteur. Hermione had asked Harry if Dumbledore had ever told him about any of the people in the pictures, but Dumbledore had never even mentioned her name.

They'd decided to visit the home which had been listed as belonging to Eleanor's family in the Ministry's records and see what she could tell them about Voldemort's life at Hogwarts. After all, Dumbledore said that Harry could only beat Voldemort once he knew the truth about Voldemort's past. The truth. As if everything that Dumbledore had told him about Voldemort was a lie. As if there was something that Harry didn't know that could explain why Voldemort embodied pure anger and possessed a passion to kill and a lack of compassion. As if all the suffering Voldemort had caused could be explained away not by a natural love for hurting others but by some event involving this girl that had occurred when he was younger.

Dumbledore's words flashed back to Harry, "You could have been like him."

The door finally opened. A woman that looked to be about 20 stood in the doorway and said, "Hello. What can I help you with?"

"We're looking for Eleanor Jouteur." Hermione said.

"Eleanor's been dead for 21 years." The woman replied, "I'm Violet Hutchinson. May I help you with something?"

"Do you know how...how she died?" Harry manages to stutter out.

"Voldemort killed her, her husband, and her child. If you'd like to visit her grave, he had one made in East Devon. Though you all look rather young to have known Eleanor, and besides I'm told Voldemort doesn't take too kindly to it when people visit her grave," she replies, seemingly still calm.

"We wanted to ask Eleanor a few questions, but I suppose we'll be going now. Thank you anyway Ms. Hutchinson. Have a good night." Harry replies.

"Just you wait a minute Mr. Potter. Didn't think I would know who you were with that polyjuice potion trick you pulled? Come now, Potter, my mother was a member of the Order of the Phoenix for quite a few years. She knew that eventually you would come around asking for Eleanor. Dumbledore did want you to know after all, no matter how much he blamed himself for her death. Come on." Violet said.

"Now, the real story is about to start. Are you sure you want to hear, Mr. Potter?" The young woman says, picking up her cup of tea, "Remember that this won't exactly be a fairytale."

"I need to hear more. I need to know how Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort." Harry responds adamantly, sitting as still as a statue. Ron fidgets in the chair next to him, obviously getting bored, while Hermione is leaning forward, paying attention to every word.

"If you wouldn't mind my asking, I would like to know how you know this story. You said that Eleanor Jouteur was dead 21 years ago, and you only look to be a few years older than we are, so you couldn't have known her well." Hermione inquires.

"I can tell you much the same story that Eleanor could have told you. My mother, bless her soul, went to school with Eleanor. They were friends. Eleanor knew that Voldemort would come for her one day. She gave her memories to my mother after Voldemort killed her child. Everything after that was what she could gather from the Death Eaters she captured during her time as an Order of the Phoenix member and auror. She told me the stories and took me through the memories. She honestly wanted to be the one to tell you, but the Death Eaters came for her a few months ago."

"Did you attend Hogwarts, Ms. Hutchinson?" Harry asks curiously.

"You can call me Violet. No, my mother didn't want to send me there. She shipped me off to Beuxbattons instead."

"I know what you're thinking Harry. You thought that Dumbledore wouldn't bother modifying his memories, didn't you? He had a lot of secrets to keep, even from you Harry. However, do not feel betrayed by this one, because he didn't go through and methodically change his memories. After Eleanor's death, Dumbledore couldn't take the grief that came from remembering her with Tom Riddle. He would constantly think of ways that he could have stopped it from happening, until his memory modified itself to make it easier for him. It was easier for all of us, to forget. I see you think we were cruel to do so - surely, you would have never forgotten Sirius or your parents just to put yourself at ease. But you don't understand Harry. We were mourning someone we had never truly known. Someone who has left so much destruction in her wake, it is hard to hold back the blame. But, the rumors hold that the story hasn't quite ended yet. Dumbledore kept one last secret from everyone, even most of the Order of the Phoenix members. He told my mother just a few days before his death. Eleanor had a second child, a daughter." Violet says quietly.

She smiles slightly before she continues, as if she knew the girl, "Eleanor sent her daughter to live with my mother when she was first born. She changed her last name and ordered Dumbledore to say that she was simply a magical orphan and ask my mother to take her in. But what Eleanor couldn't change was her daughter's appearance. As Adeline grew up, she became a replica of Eleanor, just as beautiful, just as smart, and just as charismatic. I know that my mother suspected something – but I don't think she wanted to hope that Adeline was Eleanor's daughter, for fear of being disappointed."

Harry reaches into his pockets as Violet's talking and pulls out the picture of Eleanor that Hermione cut out of the old schoolbook. He looks at the face and suddenly realizes why it seems familiar. "Did she go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes. I wanted to go to school with her since we grew up together, but my mother wouldn't let me. She didn't want Adeline to go to Hogwarts either, but it was the only place that Dumbledore thought he could protect her."

Hermione gasps, "She was head girl when we were in 3rd year. A Slytherin. Do you remember, Harry? I saw her in Mcgonagall's office once, and I remember them arguing when Mcgonagall didn't want to answer a question she'd asked."

"I know. She went out with Oliver Wood when we were in 2nd year." Harry replies, furrowing his eyebrows in frustration that he'd missed this when he first saw Eleanor's picture.

"Ahh, the Slytherin curse. Yes, that was Adeline. Always arguing with someone." Violet responded, looking off into the distance, "Perhaps if you'd known...perhaps you could have helped her then. After she graduated, Dumbledore couldn't keep her from doing what she wanted. Just like her mother, she wanted adventure, so she ran off without letting the Order know where she was going. Who knows how Voldemort found her, but he couldn't have missed the similarities between her and the mother he had killed."

"Did he kill her too?" Ron asks.

Violet frowns, "A lord needs a lady. Voldemort thought that meeting her would provide him a chance to replace Eleanor. Now that he was more powerful, he believed he could force her to love him, unlike her mother. With love on Voldemort's side, I am afraid you will not be able to defeat him. You must find her and free her from the mental bonds that he's placed on her. You must show her the truth. In order for you to do this, my mother instructed me to give you one very special memory."

"A memory. How will that help?" Ron interjects rudely.

Violet shoots him a glare before continuing, "Eighteen years ago, Regulus Black stumbled up to the very same doorstep you were standing on a few minutes ago. When my mother opened the door, she was sure this meant that the Death Eaters had learned of Eleanor's daughter and come to murder her too. However, Regulus was weak, hardly able to move himself. She took him in and tried to nurse him back to health. Shortly before he died, he extracted one of his own memories and let my mother place it into a vile. It was the memory of the day that Tom Riddle truly became Lord Voldemort. The memory of the day that Voldemort killed Eleanor and created his final two horcrux. I'll give you the vile, but it is your responsibility to show the memory to Adeline. It's very likely that Voldemort has managed to hide the truth about her mother's death from her."

"My lord," Lucius Malfoy said bowing. Voldemort stood still, staring down at his old school. He nodded to acknowledge Malfoy and he continued saying, "Our forces have returned and...well, no one has been able to find Adelaide."

He turned, glaring at Lucius, "Didn't I order Narcissa to guard her?"

"Yes, my lord, but I suppose that in the chaos..."

"Well, where has she gone then?"

"That's kind of it...we aren't exactly sure."

Voldemort turned back to stare at the castle. He tried to search for her thoughts, delving through the brains of the thousands of students in hopes that he would find her somewhere. But there was nothing. An owl cawed, waking him from his trance. He looked up at it; a tammy, Mcgonagell's owl. He took the note without a second thought.

Since you have given us the chance to care for our dead, I presumed that I may give you the chance to care for yours. Adelaide will be carried up by the groundskeeper shortly. You will hope she is alive, but you will see the death in her eyes. You will recognize it as the result of the killing curse – and may I remind you now that my side, the good side, has never resorted to the use of that particular curse. May God save your soul, for, well what you have done to the wizarding world is wretched, there is no worse crime than what you have done to Eleanor and her daughter. Love should create, never destroy.

He threw the letter away in a fit of rage. He was not the reason she had been killed; he had never sent her into battle. He had never wanted her to die too. He walked forward, looking his most loyal death eaters in the eyes.

"Who cast the curse that killed her?" He asked menacingly. Everyone instantly knew who he was talking about. Many looked down nervously. The lower members whispered among themselves in shaking voices.

His eyes shot forward, staring at Bellatrix. He recognized that smirk on her face; it was the same smirk she had after killing a muggle.

"My lord...it had to be done. She was making you weak."

He found her husband in the crowd and killed him without another word to Bellatrix.

After the war was over and Voldemort and Eleanor's daughter were both dead, Harry Potter decided he had to visit one last grave. The grave of the women who had witnessed the start of it all, who had likely contributed more than any other single factor to the evil that overtook the Dark Lord's soul.

It was a lone grave, marked by a single, elaborately carved, white jade statue of an angel. It was on a cliff overlooking the seaside, only accessible through a private residence with a large stone gate surrounding it. The residence was a simple two story house with a large sunroom, wrap-around porch, and many windows. It was extravagant for a private home, but looked like it had been neglected for years, the gardens overgrown with weeds, a few of the windows broken, the furniture full of mold. The beach under it was beautiful. It happened to be sunset when Harry Potter arrived at the grave sight, and therefore he noticed that the angel looked toward the sea, at the horizon, as if simply watching the sun waning away.

Harry turned away from the sunset and looked down at the gravestone at the foot of the angel.

Eleanor Riddle

Two words, and yet they spoke volumes. Riddle. Voldemort had been willing to use his muggle father's name yet again, for this girl. Always his. Always. Even in death, a death that he had caused, she could not escape him.

All the hardest, coldest people you meet were once as soft as water. And that's the tragedy of living. – Iain Thomas

A/N: Well, I bet those of you who are still around Fanfiction are surprised. It has been a long time since I started this story - more than 8 years. New official Harry Potter content has popped up, as well as new, more popular Harry Potter fansites. I have grown up, finished one degree, and am in the process of another. I am definitely a different person than the one that started writing this story, and that has affected my views of the characters and events in it. To be honest, having dealt with many unwanted attractions during those and being in a long-term, loving relationship now, it has distressed me to see so much adulation of Tom, even after everything he's done. But Fanfiction will always hold a special place in my heart, as well this ending. This was actually the first part of the story that I wrote, and I regret that it took so long for us to get here, but I am glad to finally mark this part of my life as "complete." Trust me, I understand the attraction to the bad boy, but I hope that this ending will prompt deeper reflection about the complexities of the interactions in this story.

Alright, now that I am done with my tearful goodbye, I will once again remind you all that a review - any review, even one sentence - would make my heart soar. I'm going to need it as I get back in to digging through my law school casebooks in my dark office nearly 24 hours a day. As always, thank you for reading.