28|| Taunting Jealousy.

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And with one kiss

You inspired a fire of devotion that lasts for twenty years

What kind of man loves like this?

~What Kind of Man by Florence + The Machine

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THE BLISSFUL EUPHORIA DIDN'T last long, as Tom watched Rosalind's eyes turn a deep amethyst colour. Dizziness and nausea replaced the bliss she was feeling.

Tom perfectly understood what was happening. Rosalind was having a vision. For a split second, he didn't know what to do, as Rosalind was still in his lap, and his arms were still around her. Her face turned completely blank.

Tom stomped up to Riddle Manor with a fire ablaze in his eyes. A simple Alohomora spell got him through the large gates and the front doors of the Mansion he never had the privilege to live in. Upon learning the truth from Morfin Gaunt, his uncle, Tom was enraged. Enraged that he could've lived in this grandeur, with an actual family, yet he was left in an orphanage.

The family of three were seated at the dining table, enjoying their breakfast like any other normal day. Tom scowled as he walked in on them, wand ready in hand.

"Who-" The elderly Tom assumed was his vile grandfather was interrupted just as Tom set eyes on him.

Decrepit elderly were just a burden to Tom.
Especially muggle ones.

"Avada Kedavra," He drawled, and the old man dropped to the floor. The cutlery and plates on the dining table shook as the weight of the man hit the ground.

The other elder lady was horrified, rooted in her seat. Soon enough, she started sobbing.

Tom Riddle Senior arose from his seat.

"Oh you're too annoying, Avada Kedavra." His grandmother dropped to the floor. Silence flooded the room.

His filthy muggle father stared at him, bewildered. His mouth was agape, unable to comprehend what had just occured in front of him.

"What.. Who are you?" The father spoke, looking at the spitting image of himself. He knew it must've been his son. The product of a nonconsensual potion he'd endured from Merope for a year.

"Tom Riddle Junior.. The son you left behind," Tom's voice was dripping with anger, scowling in hatred at the man who contaminated his bloodline.

"You are no son of mine!" Tom Riddle Sr. spoke, his voice shaking with fear and fury.

"And you are no father of mine. Crucio."

His father dropped to his knees, and painful screams of agony filled the house. Tom grinned evilly, feeling the power flowing through his veins. His lust for blood was growing with the second.

He kept the torture going for a few minutes, not even close to the torture Tom Riddle Jr. had been going through in his whole sixteen years of life.

"Avada Kedavra." And with a third flash of green light, he murdered the last member of his filthy family. Morfin Gaunt will pay for their deaths in Azkaban.

With the events of this night, Tom Riddle could finally evolve into who he was always destined to become: Lord Voldemort.

"You- you killed them," Rosalind was back to her consciousness. "That's what happened when you told me to leave, you killed your only remaining family."

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