Chapter three

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Harry was seven now. This is when Tom finally gave in to the boys begging, telling him all about the Dark Arts, the theories behind it all, the cruel details and the fascinating ones. Its beauty yet its danger, and how it made you feel powerful, power that light magic simply cant portray. Harry was more intrigued now, which Tom saw the resemblance, between this boy, and himself at eleven. 

Tom was ecstatic to teach him, yet nervous. He hadn't wanted the boy to become overrun with power like he himself had. But he always put that down to the fact he never had a tutor, Harry did.

Tom was ultimately amazed at how fast the boy could learn, he was talking, or at least writing, like a proper fully formed pureblood should.  More advanced for his age, and from what the boy described he had a perfect blank mask, and he had near no fears. He learnt how to control his emotions and he, apparently, had a glare that could send shivers down anyone's back. 

But he was so sweet, nobody would ever suspect him for anything. 

And this boy was seven.

What had Tom Riddle created?

A masterpiece, and a perfect heir, that's what.


Kill me

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