August 7, 1981
James and Lily Potter were enjoying a nice evening with their newly born son. Suddenly they felt the house vibrate. They both paled. They knew what that meant. The wards were being torn down. James sent his wife and son up to safety, hoping he could hold Voldemort off until they got away. Lily put her newborn son down in his crib and took a defensive position over him. The door was blown off and there in all his glory was the mad man, Voldemort. He quickly struck down the mother, who had pleaded for her sons life. Then he turned his wand on the boy who was causing him so much problems. But there was a problem when he shot the killing curse. The thing was, the curse was supposed to kill. No ifs, and, or buts about it. Once you got hit with it, that's it. Your dead. Now the problems start when you don't die.
Magic is a funny thing. While there are rules and regulations, when something is supposed to happen, she likes it to happen. But, magic seems to have a mind of it's own. When she seen that a little baby was going to survive something that no one had before. She got curious. That just wouldn't do. To defy the laws of nature and magic was something unheard of. So she decided to take things into her own hands and when the curse hit and rebounded something tore. What tore was Time. When the authorities came to investigate, all they found was a dead James and Lily Potter, a pile of ashes that used to be Lord Voldemort and an empty crib with a spot of blood in it.
Magic really does have a funny sense of humor.
December 31, 1926
Merope Riddle was in pain. Her fist contraction hit and left her breathless. She was weak and knew she wouldn't make it much longer. She had to get her baby delivered and to safety before she died. She looked up and saw an orphanage. She was walking up the walkway when something soft but hard hit her chest knocking her over. She looked down to see a baby boy by the looks of it. He looked so much like her husband that her heart ached. She wondered how he got here. He didn't look that old. Maybe a week or so. She climbed back to her feet, holding the baby to her chest and knocked on the door.
Merope had just delivered her son and she knew she was dying. She looked over at her new baby boy, and said, "Thomas, after his father. Marvolo, after my father. Riddle."
Mrs. Cole looked at her, "And the other one?"
Merope looked at the other boy. The one that she had told was also hers and she had delivered him a couple days ago. They believed her. At least Thomas would have a brother to grow up with. "Timothy, to match his brother. Morfin after my brother. Riddle." She then lost consciousness and never woke up.
Now, the Riddle Twins, as they were known, were odd babies. They never cried or complained as they got older. Odd things would happen around them. They never talked to anyone other than each other. They seemed to know what the other was thinking without speaking. When they didn't want anyone to hear what they were saying, they would speak in an odd language that only they could understand. It sounded like an odd hissing noise. The children of the orphanage soon learned not to make fun of them or to bring attention to themselves around the Riddle Twins. Bad things would happen to them if they did. That all changed on August 1, 1938, when an odd man in a weird colored suit visited the Twins