Author Notes: This isn't Shakespeare… and there might be spelling errors, sorry, no one beta'd for me.
After years of humiliation, pain, and sheer hate, the time for retribution was now so close, he could practically taste it. The man who'd driven his mother to death, abandoned him to the hands of a filthy Muggle orphanage…
He would seek his revenge and like a strong yet sweet wine, he would savor it, oh yes, he would.
As he walked past the neatly trimmed lawn, the perfectly pruned flowers and bushes he looked up to the grandiose house. Magnificent thing, off to the side he noticed a little cottage of sorts, and near by it was a man, pushing a barrel of gardening supplies. The man had handsome dark brown hair, and was wearing brown slacks and a loose white shirt with the long sleeves rolled up, suspenders were hitched to the back of his pants and connected to the front of them.
Their eyes met, but Riddle did not stop to speak with him, nor move to get closer. No one was supposed to have seen him, but it would not matter. His target was in his sight… all it would take was time. Before morning, he would kill his father, and then all those who ever had abandoned him… would be dead.
'And,' Riddle promised himself, 'No one will ever betray me again. I shall never feel the bitter taste of it, and all those attempt to, I shall make suffer beyond all comprehension.'
With that he strode past the house and when he was sure no one saw him, he disappeared with a loud crack.
The deed was done, his father and grandparants dead, he'd bound them in such a way they could not harm themselves, be it by the bonds itself or their own hands, and spent a great deal of time torturing them. But of course, it wasn't in any physical way… he didn't want to alert the Muggle police. Instead he mind locked them into hells of the unknown, he whispered horrible words to them and sweet promises of pain.
A quarter before midnight, he cast the worst of the unforgivables upon them. He then apparated away, to a city in Germany where he'd been temporarily staying, and began walking the streets, thinking on all that had passed.
He thought that he would have been satisfied with that… but he wasn't. The hatred still burned within him and the desire to torment someone in place of them, was greater still. Their screams, had made him drunk with pleasure, to know that he could cause them pain, and be in control of it… Perhaps it was time to move on with his studies, and move to the next step of his plans. With that, the last of what was good in Tom Riddle faded into the night, and with the rising of the sun, Lord Voldemort had taken his place.
~ Fin ~
Author Notes: Okay this made all kinds of nonsense I know, but I was re-reading Book 4 and stopped at the end of the first chapter wondering, 'Gee, I wonder how, and why he did it and what he was thinking…' So I wrote this. It didn't come out quite like I'd imagined. And when I wrote, '…and with the rising of the sun, Lord Voldemort had taken his place.' I didn't mean that, WHAM there was the ugly snake creature dude, I meant that internally, Lord Voldemort had finally set up residence within Tom. Okay so this isn't shakespeare….
PS: Injur is a REALLY weird word…