So You're Dead.... Now what?

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Tom Riddle learned the hard way. The Gods often punish us most harshly by granting us our most fondest wish.

As a child, sitting alone in an orphanage with nothing and no one to care about him, he had wished with all his innocent heart that somehow, some way he could become special enough that people could no longer ignore him. That he could be granted the power to make everyone, every where take notice.

When Albus Dumbledore walked into his eleven year old life it had seemed like a dream come true. Suddenly he wasn’t just a pathetic unloved orphan any longer. He was something special. He was, incredibly enough, a wizard.

Albus had seemed to show an extraordinary interest in Tom right from the start. Spending time with the lonely boy whenever he could. For a child that had long suffered from abuse and neglect by authority figures it was, again, like a dream come true.

Albus had held his hand as he took Tom on a tour of Hogwarts. They had laughed and chatted together for hours. Finally, Tom had what he had always dreamed of. Someone thought he was special.

To a skinny, messy haired orphan with sad green eyes, having the attentions of a much respected wizard was a heady experience. Tom decided within just a few days time that he loved Albus Dumbledore with all his heart.

For Albus, things were just a little more calculated. He had indeed chosen Tom to single out from all of the other students and he had chosen well. A child, starved for affection and attention, with no real friends or bothersome relatives to have to deal with should things go badly. With just a little time and effort Albus would have the boy willing to do anything for him. And he did.

Yes, in many ways Tom Riddle was as much of a dream come true for Albus Dumbledore as the man had been to him.

It had started out innocently enough. A few touches that could very well have been accidental. Tom had wanted to believe in Albus so much that he chose to ignore it but it didn’t stop and things had progressed from there with the man getting bolder and more confident as time passed.

Tom blamed himself of course. Albus let him.

The self hatred and rage that came to be a mark of Lord Voldermort was born long before anyone ever thought to look for it. It was conceived in dark class rooms by a furtive touch. Nurtured on his knees as Tom learned the true price of being “special.” It grew and flourished under the knowing gaze and private tutelage of Albus Dumbledore.

Tom learned many things in his time at Hogwarts. He learned magic. He learned that he was more powerful than anyone, including Albus, had ever suspected. He learned hate and take pride in that hate.

By the time Tom Riddle was ready to graduate, he had learned everything that would one day make him so feared that other wizards were terrified even to whisper his name. The mask he wore daily to deceive the world would one day be immortalized in the very ones his deatheaters would wear with arrogance.

It was what Tom saw when he looked in the mirror. Soulless, featureless….. Nothing.

On the day of his graduation Tom Riddle vowed two things to himself. One day he would be the most powerful dark wizard ever to live, and if it was the last thing he ever did, Albus Dumbledore would die
because of him.

The gods again granted Tom his most fondest wish. Within just a few years of graduation he had become so powerful that there wasn’t a wizard alive that didn’t tremble at the mention of the name Voldermort.

Using his rapidly growing army of death eaters Tom wreaked terror down upon muggles and wizards alike. He despised muggles from his time spent in the orphanage and even more so after he learned of his fathers abandonment. He attacked them at every opportunity.

He tolerated a select few wizards that swore undying loyalty to him and only him. They were mostly Slytherin and mostly pureblood, brought to him by a lust for power. Tom hated them all.

As he matured Tom Riddle soon discovered he had a new wish. Power was no longer enough for him.
His newest and most fervent wish was for immortality. Once again, the gods heard him.

He lead the killing spree’s, laughed as he watched male and female alike raped and murdered for the pleasure of his minions. It was said of Tom Riddle in hushed conversation even by his own troops, that the man had no soul.

Had he heard, Tom would have agreed with them. But he was wrong.

It was during a raid on a small muggle town that Tom discovered just how wrong he was. It was the second attack against the nearly defenseless town in less than a year and in the midst of the fleeing, screaming towns people Tom, now Lord Voldermort, had been pleasantly observing the havoc he had created when his eyes came to rest upon the face of a young female that he immediately recognized as one of the girls he had raped in an earlier raid and left for dead.

Strangely enough the girl wasn’t running or screaming even though her face still bore traces of the scars from his last visit. No, this girl was just standing there staring at him defiantly with her hand resting lightly on the curve of her very swollen belly. Without a word the red haired young lady turned and walked away, while Tom stood there frozen in his steps.

From the moment he laid eyes on her, Tom had known beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was carrying his child.

After a little frantic investigation, it was found out that the girls name had been Virginia Kelly. Had been because as soon as she was released from the hospital, Virginia had married the man she had already been engaged to before her unfortunate run in with Tom, a Horace Evans.

Three months later Tom threw down the birth certificate of Lillian Elizabeth Evans that listed the father as Horace Evans, and stomped on it like a mad man as his death eaters watched on fearfully.

He told himself he didn’t care. This child was nothing to him. She was more than half muggle, most likely a squib, and didn’t even deserve to have him acknowledge her existence.

Three days later, and fighting himself every inch of the way Tom went to see her. Just out of curiosity you understand.

It was a simple matter for a powerful wizard such as himself to apparate directly into the unwarded, unprotected nursery where Lily lay asleep in her crib.

She had looked like an angel lying there. So tiny with soft tufts of curly red hair surrounding her head.

Tom decided he needed a closer look. Then he could dismiss the child and forget she ever existed. As he bent over the crib the baby awoke and Tom Riddle found himself staring down into his own green eyes.

He sneered at her. She cooed. He scowled. She grinned and kicked her chubby little legs.

Tom plastered his most fearsome look on his face, the one that always sent his death eaters groveling on their knees for mercy, and pointed his finger at the babies chest. “You are nothing to me.” He hissed.

Before he knew what had happened, Lily grabbed his finger in her tiny fist. Tom felt something he hadn’t even known existed twitch in his chest.

He snatched away as though he had been burned, and quickly left the stupid child without ever looking back. Right after he thouroughly warded the nursery.

Tom swore to himself over and over again that he would never see the child again. It was a lie straight from the pit of hell, but he thought it was worth a shot. It was already too late for him though. Tom Riddle had already fallen helplessly in love with his daughter. He just didn’t know it yet.

Whenever he wasn’t busy destroying people, and trying to take over the wizarding world, Tom would somehow once again find himself checking up on Lily. Not that he cared, you understand. He was just curious as to how his bastard spawn might be getting on.

Lily grew from an adorable toddler to a charming child as Tom watched from afar. To his disgusted delight she showed signs of magical ability early on.

He spied on her birthdays. He hexed the little fat boy that pushed her off the swing.

He watched as she hugged Horace Evans, and called him daddy while his guts churned. It was only the fact that Horace hugged her back and said, “I love you princess.” that stopped him from throwing crucio at the man.

Tom had to admit it. From what he had observed Lily was very much loved and well cared for. Soon she even had a little sister to play with. He watched as his daughter beamed down at a brand new baby Petunia.

Not that he cared.

He was watching the day that Lily received her Hogwarts letter. His heart broke as he stared at his innocent daughters smiling face. Finally, Tom acknowledged defeat. He loved his child.

Once again, he promised himself that one day he would be the cause of Albus Dumbledore’s demise.

That afternoon he walked into Hogwarts and offered his services as defense against the dark arts teacher. Tom nearly choked to death on his own tongue having to ask the new Headmaster for anything, but for Lily he would do it.

Needless to say, Albus was surprised to see him. Dumbledore had turned him down flat for the job.

Tom had cursed the now elderly wizard, and the job he was denied. Never again would Hogwarts have a DA professor that lasted more than a year.

He continued to watch Lily during her stay at Hogwarts as closely as possible. The castle was powerfully warded but Tom had spies everywhere and he kept close tabs on Lily.

To his great relief Albus showed hardly any interest in the girl at all. Well, really, it seemed he had always preferred boys.

It was only in her last year at Hogwarts that Tom noticed something he found quite disturbing. Albus, the manipulative bastard, seemed to be encouraging a relationship between Lily and one of his stinky Gryffindor’s.

Tom hated James Potter from the moment he laid eyes on the boy. James was brash and arrogant, and in his humble opinion not nearly good enough for his daughter.

Though Lily never knew it, Tom hexed James Potter with massive boils on their second date. That boy could bloody well learn to keep his hands to himself! Much to his chagrin, Lily visited the prat while in hospital.

Voldermort went on a rampage, and stayed drunk for three days after he learned of their elopement soon after graduation.

It was only a few months later that he learned that he was soon to be a grandfather. Even killing every small fluffy thing within a ten mile radius couldn’t pull him out of that depression. Eventually he got over it. Not before an abundance of pain was dealt out though.

It did help that Lily was radiant with happiness. It didn’t help that Dumbledore had somehow managed to convince her that he was the bad guy as far as everything was concerned.

By this time Tom’s fingers would start to viciously itch to wrap themselves around Dumbledore’s throat just at the thought of the man.

On the upside, he had recently discovered what he might be able to use to achieve his longed for immortality. Lucius Malfoy had brought a little known tomb from the Malfoy’s huge dark arts library to his attention and he had started working to complete his horcrux.

On the downside, his first glimpse of a new born Harry Potter was not very impressive. The brat looked just like his father. He was also quite loud. And he stank. That might have been the diaper, but Tom just wasn’t too sure.

All in all, his grandson looked disappointing.

Lily looked at the tiny, shriveled up, puking thing with such love in her eyes that Tom decided he could tolerate it for her sake.

A little over a year later Severus Snape came to him with a prophecy. A prophecy to destroy him.

Tom took it personally. They pored over the records of children’s births that had occurred during the allotted time period but in the pit of his stomach, Tom already knew. It would be Harry.

In the wizarding world everything always came back to blood. It would be his own blood that would be set to kill him. Immediately he started work on a scheme to locate his erstwhile grandson.

The Potter’s had most aggravatingly gone into hiding. It didn’t take Tom long to discover the weak link in the Gryffindor chain and Peter Pettigrew crumbled with little effort, betraying his friends and their child to near certain death.

To his credit, and no little pride Tom Riddle could say quite honestly that he had never begged anyone for anything in his entire life.

When he stepped foot inside the small nursery which housed Harry and his mother, Tom Riddle begged for the first time. He begged Lily to walk away.

James was dead, but she could remarry. She could have other children he told her, all the time with Harry wailing in the back ground.

He beseeched her to go. Tom pleaded with her as Lily flatly refused to leave Harry.

Finally fed up with her refusals Tom simply shoved her out of the way as he pointed his wand at the still screeching toddler. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Lily let out a blood curdling scream and threw herself into the path of his curse. “NO! Not Harry!”

Tom watched in horrified disbelief as his own spell hit the only person he had ever loved squarely in the chest and her lifeless body crumpled to the floor. “Lily.” He whispered.

Whatever human part of Voldermort that may have been left, shattered and died there in that nursery with his daughter.

The Dark Lord was not even aware of the tears streaming down his face as he lifted his wand once again and aimed it at a screaming Harry. “AVADA..” He choked as Harry abruptly stopped howling, and blinked up at the man pointing the big shiny stick at him with Lily’s green eyes. Why had he never realized before that the boy had Lily’s eyes? “kedavra.” Tom finished feebly.

It was not his best work by far. As Harry would painfully learn later in life, when you cast a curse, you have to MEAN it.

The weakness with which it was finished, combined with the powerful protection his daughter’s loving sacrifice had provided assured that Harry was little more than grazed by the hex while it rebounded and came rushing back to Tom ten fold.

His last thought before the world went black was that, just once, he would have liked to hold Lily’s hand.

Tom Riddle was no more.

Voldermort arose from the ashes.


Nearly seventeen years later, Voldermort waited impatiently for Harry Potter to come for him. He knew that he would.

Harry did not disappoint.

As his death eater’s scrambled and begged for mercy, their leader stood defiantly and awaited his fate.

“Death has come for you Tom.” Harry hissed in parsletongue.

Voldermorts eyes grew almost comically wide. “Avada Kedavra!” He screeched, sending a neon green bolt of energy hurtling at the boy who lived.

It struck Harry square in the chest. For a moment no one moved as the sickly glow dissipated, then Harry threw his head back and roared with laughter.

Voldermort’s lipless mouth hung wide open as he stared at his still cackling nemesis. It couldn’t be!

“Voldie, Voldie, Voldie…” Harry chuckled as he closed the distance between them. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you?”

Voldermort gasped for air as he found himself suddenly unable to breathe due to the steel fingers Harry Potter now had circling his windpipe. In vain he struggled as the room began to grow darker, and Harry leaned in to whisper in his ear. “You cant kill someone if they’re already dead.”

Voldermort managed to choke out, “Please..” just before Harry viciously tore his throat out. Blood spurted everywhere as the audience of whimpering deatheaters cringed and a few were even heard to mutter a prayer.

As he felt his life ebbing slowly away forever, Voldermort whispered one last word that Harry didn’t hear. “Lily.”

Harry allowed the still twitching corpse to slip from his fingers and collapse to the floor in a heap.

Draco had long since finished with the slaughter of his Aunt Bella, and now he watched with a smirk, as Harry nonchalantly stepped over the dead body of perhaps the greatest dark wizard ever, to come and stand by his side.

Together their eyes came to rest on the few remaining death eaters cowering around the room.

With a smile dripping wickedness, Harry extended his hand to his beloved. “Shall we my darling?”


It was only later when the memories began making themselves known to him that Harry finally realized exactly how much of his own story he had never known. It was only then that he had realized that Voldermort had never begged him for mercy even though he had said please in the end. He hadn’t been asking Harry for anything. In fact, he hadn’t even been talking to him at all.

In his last moments, Tom Riddle had made one last request of the gods. “Please… Lily.”

One final wish.



Harry Potter crouched down in front of the three graves that stood in the small cemetery in Godric’s Hollow and wept.

He was alone at the moment, but he knew that Draco was hovering nearby should he need him. The blond had just left him alone for a short time so that he could have some privacy.

Two of the three graves were obviously quite a bit older than the new one Harry knelt in front of. The freshly turned earth had yet to settle in the new plot, and the marker was pristine unlike the older stained ones that marked his parents graves.

Harry gave a deep shuddering sigh as he laid his hand upon the mound in front of him.

“I brought you home to her Tom.” He whispered.

Harry stood up shakily and made his way over to his waiting lover. Draco slipped his arms around him murmuring words of love and comfort. Together they left the graveyard to depart for Hogwarts.

“Do you think Harry will be alright?” The red haired phantom said, nervously nibbling a ghostly bottom lip as they watched the boys depart.

Beside her, the shade of Tom Riddle slipped one transparent hand into his daughters to reassure her.

“Lily,” Her father smiled, “I can practically guarantee it.”

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