Riddle the Ripper

Why I write this: I believe Voldemort is extremely evil… So I believe he did these things I’ve written. One of the most disturbing chapters in canon is “The Cave” in Half-blood Prince. It shows that Voldemort probably commited many other murders, perhaps even killing a poor squib prostitute like Ophelia Sinistra was.





Chapter Four: Dismembering




Twenty-year-old Voldemort apparated into the antechamber. Ophelia Sinistra’s limp, lifeless body in his grasp as a side-along apparator. Riddle had brought the black robes Ophelia had been wearing earlier.



High tide was fast approaching, water roaring and sweeping closer from the long tunnel that led to the sea outside. The water rose over the steps, as he ascended them towards the blank wall at the end.



Sangfroid in his movements, despite the churning, twisting blackness spilling onto the landing, Riddle had a complete lack of fear.



He bent down, and heaved the body against the wall, rubbing it there. The blood still oozing from her impaled back, smattered onto the entrance.



The illusory arched doorway appeared, glowing. It highlighted the smattering of the squib’s blood. Even though it wasn’t blood of a live magical person, Riddle knew it would work because the blood had not yet dried, the moist droplets glistening.



Riddle entered the temporary opening, and it was like he been swallowed whole, swallowed into a black hole of dense, impenetrable darkness. Eeerily silent, as if there was no roaring waves just outside, the man held his wand ready, and lit.



He began his trek through the gigantic, cavernous cave, his shoes making slapping sounds over the puddles. Clad in is his plain suit, the lumos spell illuminated Tom Riddle’s handsome profile with a silvery shadow. Obstructing that shadow was the body of the young woman. It grazed the jagged rocks, as Riddle carelessly dragged it along with him for the next several minutes.



Until he came to right where he knew it was. For he could sense the trace of the concealment charm he had placed there for the mode of transportation he was now seeking. Jabbing his wand at the precise location, he used a nonverbal reavealing spell to see it.



He stooped over, and had the anchor unhooked. Then grabbing a coiling, snake-line chain out of the placid water, he raised a boat. Riddle took the body of Ophelia by the waist, and tied the end of the chain to the neck of the corpse, quite fond of the process.



He stepped into the green, curved boat, built only for one and it set sail at once. It’s pace was languid, yet convenient enough not to disturb the brackish lakewater.



The thousand specks of silver light glimmered over the glassy surface. Riddle saw his Inferi lieing dormant in their eternal resting place.



He woke several of them by stunning with the stupefy charm. As more of them rose to stand, they got the other of the dozens of zombie-like Inferi alert. The unfinished army of Voldemort’s dead victims, stood in close clusters, watching almost curiously even if they lacked intelligence. The only thing they that made them capable was what was directed by magic through the Dark Lord’s commands.



Their misted eyes glazed over the ravaged body of Ophelia lieing in the prone position, naked and skidding the surface, being tugged along.



After a quarter of an hour, the boat reached the equally dark center. There was an onyx stone island, with a pillar and an empty basin. The boat stopped and Riddle took a fistful of the chain and wrenched it, until he had his latest victim at his side again.



In his arms, he knelt down and cradled the corpse, feeling his own pleasure as it’s wet, cool body against his own. The tip of the yew wand, aimed at it’s chest.



Riddle whispered a magical language of arcane incantations as a method of dismembering a corpse to make it an Inferius. Gradually, the pale skin of the woman was crinkling . All her blood was being drained into oblivion. Inside, Riddle knew the muscles were evaporating into nothingnes, the heart being first, squeezed of it’s blood like a towel being rinsed.



Once finished, the body was a desolate white, and Riddle marveled at her skull-like visage. Opening the mouth, he checked to see there was no tongue as expected. All the organs and fat were dissipated. She was literally skin and bone.



Riddle pulled up the shades of the eyelids, and revealed the shrunken sockets. Green and silver sparks emanated from his wand, as Riddle transfigured a pair of magical eyes into the sockets. The eyes were misty and glazed, just like all the other Inferi’s.



He rigged the robes, dressing it. Once finished, a broad smile erupted. It was like it was time for Voldemort to play. To play his awful game of training the Inferi to respond to his biddings.



The corpse was revived into it’s soul-less shell and Riddle felt empowered by the sight. He could feel heavy masturbation under his pants and briefs.



Riddle had to pause before he started teaching his new Inferi. The wild urge to gain control over it sexually, would have to come first. His pants were lowered in a second and he crouched over the dead body, his pulsating cock erect and filled with his blood. His long fingers moving up and down the shaft of his penis, massaging it almost lovingly. He was in a state of exictement at the anticipation of the act of sex with the dead, flooding his mind.



Riddle’s hips writhed with an increasing fervor. He jerked himself out, just before orgasm and then entered the corpse’s vaginal passageway again. He did not stop repeating until he had three times. Finally a high, cold scream echoed through the dwelling, “ARRGH!” Voldemort had reached his orgasm.



The sensation of intense relief and satisfaction welled up. It was more pleasure then he had ever experienced when Ophelia had been alive.



He rested, leaning against the pillar, sweating profusely but feeling a wonder, in his eagerness to control the dead. Semen spurted on the darkened floor of the island.



Like a porcelain doll, yet dirty and tattered, the Ophelia Sinistra corpse was sitting up, perfectly motionless. Not a single movement could it make, incapable of even blinking it’s empty gray eyes.



Riddle rose and levitated his revived corpse. He directed it to the lake, where it landed with a plunk. It plunged down, beneath the murky depths never to be remembered by him again.



Even though he was fatigued, Riddle managed to stay awake.



The other Inferi, were crowding around as they had been observing him. There were only several hundred, but Tom Riddle certainly planned to have thousands and thousands within the next few decades.



He picked out one Inferi, the corpse of a small child. With the connection forged between his wand and his mind, Voldemort communicated an order to the one Inferi. This could not be done verbally, because the Inferi were deaf and could not understand verbal language.



The one Inferi immediately responded by traveling over to the other side of the island, the clammy hands of the child inferi stretched out, it’s fists opening and closing. It was as if, the inferi believed it was to strangle something, and that was the idea. The Inferi would create more Inferi by one day killing other living people.



Once the child Inferi, started all the others responded like magnets drawn to the action of the one. Each one, obeying the Dark Lord's commands quite woodenly, all moving to the other side as a uniform group, their gashed, but bloodless wounds starkly evident on their pasty complexions.



Feeling an odd attachment to the dead corpses, Riddle bid them good-bye with a wave of his hand as a sort of joke with himself. The Inferi were so slow and stupid they did not understand the gesture. They just gawked at the wizard slipping in the opposite direction, leaving the island through sailing in the boat.



By the time Riddle got to the shore and left the cave, all the Inferi had went back to their dormant positions.



When he got back to the antechamber, a wift of the salty sea air went through his nostrils as he took a blissful breath. Nostagically, Riddle took in the atmosphere, remembering the time as a ten-year-old when he had first revelled in his magical abilities through torturing the muggle orphans in this very same location.



The high tide was gone, but a greenish tinge was present at the end of the tunnel. Clearly, it was the first sign of daybreak.



Eager for a few hours sleep, as he was quite exhausted, Riddle disapparated into his lodgings in the basement of Borgin and Burke’s. Within several seconds, he fell onto his bed, still clothed.



By eight o’clock he was awakened by the alarm clock on his nightable. It was time for the shopkeeper’s assistant to get ready for work.





(there will be one more chapter)!