I've got a new story for you. It was an idea that struck me the other night and seeing as I wanted to make an oneshot about Harry and Tom, it worked just fine for me.
Oh, and the story will be solemnly on Harry's pov.
Seeing the truth
There was this boy once, you see…
An unfortunate lad he was, that one. He was called many things… An abomination, a freak, a genius, a model student, a hypocrite…
To most of the world he was known as devil incarnate, a plague that would surely befall you if you so much as dared to utter his name. To those with whom he shared the same beliefs he was known as Lord and Master.
I however knew him as the murderer of my parents, the reason of my suffering, my enemy and my destiny.
People always used to say how I reminded them of someone…
Most of them would shrug it off, blaming the genes and my father's traits that had passed onto me. It wouldn't be the first time someone told me how alike I was with my father. I knew better though…
My deceased parent wasn't the only one that I held a resemblance with.
That little fact became known to me during my second year at Hogwarts, when I met him for the first time, the real him. Not the model student that always earned praises, nor the evil Lord that inspired dread even to his most loyal followers.
He didn't pretend with me, didn't hide behind the safety of one of his many masks.
That was the first time I met Tom Marvolo Riddle, not the prefect that later on became Head Boy because of his exceedingly good grades, but the cunning, ambitious boy that would later on become my damnation.
It was also the first time that he told me the same thing others did, with the exception that unlike them, he most definitely wasn't referring to my father. He told me of how much I reminded him of himself.
Of how he could see a potential in me similar, if not equal, to his own.
Power like his own.
Soul like his own.
I shall never forget that day and not because I nearly lost my life that night… again. No, after all I never went into much detail about the basilisk's venom, not even Ginny knew what had been the origin of my injury.
That day forever stayed imprinted in my memory for it was from that day forth that doubts began clawing at my heart. The most evil wizard of all time had told me I was like him.
And when people wonder who I remind them of, the bitter truth always comes back to haunt me.
Why was I like him?
Was I evil too, or was my heart as black as his?
My twelve year old mind was thankful to be put somewhat at ease. Some of Lord Voldemort's abilities passed onto me the night he cursed me, Professor Dumbledore had said.
I am not evil, I had thought with relief.
But then, why was the Sorting Hat so adamant into placing me in Slytherin?
Next year's events effectively managed to take my mind off those things, my fears having been obscured by pure joy after reuniting with my father's best friends, not to mention the seer happiness that one of them was my godfather, the guardian that I longed for so desperately.
But no one was ever favored with a prolonged peace of mind and certainly I wasn't going to be the exception to that rule.
Peter Pettigrew, the man that had condemned my parents to their fate, killed again under his Master's order.
'Kill the spare!'
That single sentence would haunt me long after the unmoving body of the boy I had come to consider as something relatively close to a friend had fallen to the ground.
How the hell could someone be so cruel? So unmerciful?
Tom Riddle had been reborn, but not as the boy I met two years ago. And for once I was thankful. Thankful that this was one similarity minus, thankful that I didn't have to stare at the face that I was slowly beginning to resemble now that I had reached puberty.
Because I wouldn't be able to stand the thought that the reason of the death of so many people was staring right back at me each time I gazed into the mirror.
And yet, when I was finally absolutely sure that there was no fucking way for me to be such a monster, my world was turned upside down once more.
I learnt, with the hard way naturally, that our wands shared the same core, they were technically twins. Yet another thing that he and I had in common and yet again I was proven that fate enjoyed watching me suffer.
Why? Why was the universe so bloody intent to prove Tom's theory from two years ago? Why I of all people had to share so many things with the Dark Lord? Me, whom he has hurt the most?
Unlike all the previous times though, the connection between our wands was truly the one thing that I was thankful for. Not only it allowed me to have the closest contact that I had had so far with my parents but it also accomplished the nearly impossible task of walking away that night with my life intact.
Fate might have been against me but I was certain that Lady Luck was on my side of the war.
But from then on, things only seemed to worsen.
The fact that nobody believed me when I told them that the Dark Lord was back, fueled by the other fact that my friends shunned me all summer and so did Dumbledore, only added up inside me to the point that I was continuously feeling like a steaming pot that was about to blow up at any given moment.
So angry and enraged I was throughout the entire year, that I used to snap at my friends for the smallest of things when I knew that they were only trying to help me.
But I was scared too.
It wasn't like me to be so unreasonably angry, so unimaginably exasperated all the time and it scared me out of my wits. Was Tom Riddle feeling like this too before he ended up the way he's now?
Another habit of mine that had been adopted through the year. I was comparing every little thing I did with Riddle's actions, always wondering if he had done it too.
But it was later on that I realized the reason behind my newly fragile temper…
As Professor Snape so kindly pointed out, it seemed that Voldemort had found the way to use the connection between us to his advantage. I never doubted that Tom Riddle possessed a brilliant mind, but his actions always reminded of that little fact.
He wasn't the only one to make some progress with our link, though. Yes, my disastrous mood swings were usually caused by him entering my mind, but also because I tapped into his emotions quite frequently, without my notice too. It's very unnerving the anger and pure rage that the Dark Lord seems to feel all the time.
Another thought that frightened me… Did that mean that I was becoming more like him?
But Voldemort didn't intrude my mind just to pass his time. He wanted to achieve something much more sinister and plainly evil and I, being the clueless fool that I was, did nothing to prevent him.
On the contrary actually… I helped him accomplish his plan.
He set out a well made trap, placed the bait, and I fell for it.
Sirius was gone.
My naivety and foolishness cost me the only remaining member of my family, because of me, Lupin lost yet another best friend.
And as if that wasn't more than enough, I discovered yet another thing that connected me with Voldemort. There was a prophecy that spoke about the two of us. No matter how hard I tried to escape, to run away from everything that had to do with Voldemort, it was as if an invisible hand kept dragging back, forcing me to face the very fact that I despised the most.
The very thing that was my greatest fear…
That summer was the hardest yet. My relatives rejoiced about the fact that Sirius could no longer threaten them into playing nice, something that they kept reminding at every chance they got, always going on about how I got what I rightfully deserved.
I have to admit that there was a little bit of truth in their words though. Somehow, every person that was close to me always seemed to get hurt.
Not to mention that my friends nearly died in the Department of Mysteries. And of course, we can't forget our little adventure in second year too.
Ginny was nearly killed by Tom Riddle. And just because I had made friends with her brother.
Many people would have been loads better if they had never met me, or gotten themselves involved with me.
Was I being punished for something that I did? For being so similar with Voldemort?
Soon enough, another year at Hogwarts started and this time, each time I had to use the loo, each time I had to take a shower, I did my best not to look into the mirror. Ron, and generally all the boys that I shared the dormitory with, always gave me funny looks each time they saw me rushing out of the bathroom like I was being chased by the devil himself.
Which technically, I was.
I couldn't stand it. It drove me nuts. And the worse thing was that I couldn't talk to anyone about it, not even my best friends. What was I supposed to say anyway? Sorry for being so paranoid lately guys, but I just can't bear seeing Riddle's face every time I pass in front of a mirror.
No, they wouldn't understand.
If I thought I was beginning to look like him in my fourth year, there was no place for doubts now. I had grown during the summer, something that I hadn't paid attention to due to my mood.
And when I finally did, it was like having a bucket full of icy, cold water thrown at you.
My eyes had sharpened, my face had grown thinner and my skin had taken an unhealthy, pale glow. Results of my summer treatment by my relatives. Anyone in my place would have gotten thinner if they were fed once every two days.
All in all, now it was like looking at a replica of the boy I had met four years ago. The only difference was in our eyes. Fortunately, the color was the only thing that had remained the same. My mother's eyes. If they too changed to resemble Tom Riddle's dark green, I would surely flip.
As much shaken up as I was from these changes, I couldn't help but wonder… what had happened to make Riddle look like this?
What I didn't know was that the answer would present itself to me in the very near future.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
I know I said this was going to be a oneshot, but it seems that the story will turn into a multichapter.
The second chapter will probably be up soon since I'm already writing it, but it's going to depend on whether you like it or not.