RIDDLE, Tom Marvolo
Oct 18, 2018 13:07:27 GMT -8
Post by Minister Tom Riddle on Oct 18, 2018 13:07:27 GMT -8
Tom Marvolo Riddle
Character Basics
- Age: 48
- Date of Birth: December 31, 1926
- Nickname/Alias: Minister
- Bloodtype: Halfbloode
- Gender: Cis Male
- Orientation: Demisexual
- School/House/Former house: Hogwarts Slytherin
- Wand: Yew, Pheonix Feather, 13 1/2
- Patronus: Basilisk
- Boggart: None
Appearance
- Face Claim: Benedict Cumberbatch
- Appearance: At first glance he seems a just handsome, charismatic man, something he uses greatly to his advantage. He has sharp features, but what stands out most is his piercing and deadly gaze. It is unnerving, and unhinged.
He is average height and on the thin side, not giving off much intimidation in a physical sense. His looks are striking in a dark and almost frightening manner.
Tom is always very sharply dressed with never a hair out of place. - Notable Markings: Tom has a tattoo on the inside of his left arm about two inches up from the wrist, it is rarely visible as he only rolls his sleeves up around this he is comfortable with. He is never seen without his hand knitted Slytherin scarf somewhere on his attire, usually under his lapel.
Though not a marking he is never seen without his snake familiar.
Personality
- Strengths:
Wandless Magic - From a very young age he was capable of great feats of magic without use of his wand. He is one of the most gifted wandless users able to perform some very power spells with no wand.
Parseltongue - As the heir to Balthazar Slytherin himself he is capable of speech with snakes and serpents.
Legillemency - He is both a strong and dangerous user of the mind magics, able to implant visions in others minds until they go insane. There are few skilled enough to resist him hearing their thoughts and even less that could enter his own mind.
Manipulation - He is a master of manipulation, and not just because he can read the thoughts of others. Years of practice has taught him what buttons to press to sway others, both subtly and with means of force.
Duellist- A fierce duellist, there are few who have ever bested him in combat. He is quick, agile, and cunning in the heat of even the most impossible of odds. - Weaknesses:
Cannot feel Love - Due to the effects of the potion he was conceived he can never feel true love. The closest he comes is a sense of ownership.
Attachment to his friend - His closest friend is the only person who he shuts his mind reading powers off for. When it comes to his oldest friend he has the smallest blind spot.
Cold dark temper - Though not easily stirred his anger is ruthless when unleashed. It is when he is angry that he is most dangerous.
Abused children - He has a difficult time not coming to the aide of abused magical children. Something about their innocence drives his desire to protect and manipulate. - Likes: Wizard chess, sour and bitter sweets, black coffee, reading history books, playing violin, classical music, cold snowy days.
- Dislikes: Grindelwald and his followers, challenges to his authority, untidiness, disloyalty, cruelty to children.
- Personality: Ruthless, cunning, intellectual, and charismatic.
History
- History:
The story.
Tom Marvolo Riddle’s history begins before his birth, with the story of his mother Merope Gaunt. One of the last heirs of Salazar Slytherin, and a product of years of inbreeding, Merope was under constant abuse from her father and forced to care for her mentally unwell brother. Once wealthy and the most powerful magical family they had long since lost the fortune and majesty, living in poverty in a shack on the edge of the valley of the village of Little Hangleton.
The only family in the village despised as much as hers was that of the Riddles. A wealthy family that owned most of the land in the village they were cruel and despised the village almost as much as it despised them. On the edge of their property sat the Gaunt shack, an eye sore they could do nothing about.
The Riddles had a son, a tall and handsome muggle man by the name of Thomas Riddle II, who was known to be snobbish and rude. He was also poised and charming when he chose to be. Merope would watch him everyday through the hedges as he rode by on his horse, or was practiced his fencing with his coach. She longed to be one on his arm as he strolled through the gardens.
Her desire to have him drove her brother Morfin into a blind and jealous rage. Morfin was unwell, and feared losing his sister who took care of him. Trying to make Tom undesirable he hexed the muggle with hives. An attack on muggles is a serious crime in the Ministries eyes. When the Auror’s showed up to take Morfin they were attacked by Merope’s father, Marvolo. Both men were taken and tried, sentenced to time in Azkaban. This left Merope completely alone and afraid.
With there now talk of the Riddle family buying and demolishing the house and the rest of her future uncertain Merope acted out of desperation. She made and fed Thomas Riddle II a love potion. Under its influence he married Merope and they eloped to London, despite the protests of his family. Not long after they were married did she conceive their son.
Eight months pregnant and feeling the guilt of having used a potion to influence the man she truly loved she stopped giving it to him, sure that he would not leave her once he saw the truth.
She was sadly mistaken.
Free of the effects of the potion Tom left Merope, leaving her with nothing but the child. He returned home, leaving Merope in London to fend for herself.
Alone once more Merope struggled to survive on her own. She found herself on the steps of Whools Orphanage while deep in labour in the middle of a snowy day in December. She died holding her baby boy in her arms just minutes after he was born on December 31. Her last words were his name.
“Riddle. His name is Tomas Marvolo Riddle.”
The boy.
Tom spent only four months in the orphanage before he was adopted.
The couple who took him in were already aged into their fifties. A muggle woman, and her squib husband. They had been unable to conceive a child of their own, no matter how hard they tried. It was Stuart who felt the pull of magic from Whool’s Orphanage. Fate had taken him and his wife into town. Luck would find them the child they had hoped for. There could be no safer home for a magical child to grow up in.
As an infant he did not weep, did not often make noise. They knew there was something special about him, but could not say what. It was as if the child could read their minds.
Beverly and Stuart had been married for many years. He was a squib, rejected by wizard society. She was a muggle rejected by muggle society. They found each other. They had a beautiful home in the country, with wilderness and free space for miles before hints of civilization appeared once more.
In this loving and carefree home Tom was well cared for, and well loved, but it was evident by the time he was six years old that he was different then most children. Not just because he was wizard, but because he was incapable of feeling love. His parents brought him to a witch in the closest town. After months of study over the young boy the witch explained what she had discovered.
Tom was conceived under the effects of a love potion, as such he was cursed to never feel true love. He could feel almost nothing it seemed. There were other emotions he knew he could feel. Anger being the strongest and easiest to latch onto.
His parents took that knowledge and their son home and went on with their lives, content with having an answer.
Though Tom could not feel love, he grew up knowing what it looked like. Watching it with his keen intellect, wishing to know more.
There was something else unique to Tom. He could speak with snakes. Something that stunned his adoptive father. It was a power rare among the wizarding world and rumoured to have been spoken only by Salazar Slytherin himself.
When Tom was seven years old he found a snake in the backyard and began to speak with it, for several days he ran outside to visit with his new snake friend. On one day that snake did not feel like talking, it wished to go hunt for food. Angry that it would dare ignore him he reached out to grab it and missed. This caused his anger to grow. A shadow grew over the house as the boy reached out again and magic rushed from his hand, striking the snake.
It died instantly.
Confused he walked over and looked down at the unmoving creature. He poked and prodded it, but it did and said nothing. It was then that he felt the hand of his father. “Why does it not move, Father?” He asked, hints of the anger still burning in his voice. Stuart was crouched down next to Tom, his wife stood behind him, holding her hands to her chest with tears in her eyes.
“It is dead, Tom. It can’t do anything anymore.” Stuart said to him in a calm but soft voice.
“But, I did not want to kill it.” He looked up with blue eyes, burning and curious, “Is there a spell to make it come back?”
Stuart’s facial expression fell into a frown. “No. Magic does not work that way, son, it is impossible to bring anything back. Magic can harm easier then it can heal. It is easy to do harm. It is difficult to undo that harm.”
Looking back down at the snake he narrowed his eyes, his young mind processing the information. In an instant he had killed the snake, but he had not meant to. It would be easy for him to hurt another, it would be a challenge to learn how to protect them.
The real and true enemy was death.
He would be the best and most powerful wizard that death himself would be frightened.
The wizard.
When Tom finally received his letter he could not have been more thrilled. His parents had supplied him with any book he wanted and by the time he was given his own wand he was already performing some first year spells wandless.
His first train ride was silent. Unaware of just who his biological parents were he was labeled as a muggle-born in his first year. Worse than that, the son of a squib and a muggle. He heard the word Mudblood whispered in the halls.
He scoffed. It was easy to do harm.
The sorting hat sat on his head only for a moment before it declared what house. “SLYTHERIN!”
Many at the table gasped as he stood, a neutral look on his face, and took his seat.
It was a rocky first year. Many students in Slytherin did not take kindly to having a suspected muggle born in their house. In the first few days he found himself on the receiving end of a few duels. By the fifth duel he had gained a reputation and the challenges became less about his status and more that he was winning them all.
After dropping a third year to the ground with nothing more then a simple hex he was meant to learn in second year, many of the students began to either fear or respect him. Some even loathed him, continuing to try catching him off guard.
What no one knew was he could hear their thoughts. He was an experienced Legilmens who had yet to tell even his own adoptive parents of his ability.
In Tom’s second year of Hogwart’s he managed to uncover more about wizarding heritage. Namely, his own. After learning about the ability shared with the famous wizard Slytherin, Riddle went in search of answers. He had been aware of his adoption for as long as he could remember, but he knew nothing of his birth parents.
His search took nearly the entire year, as he had been focused on it being his father who carried the wizard genetics. After switching gears and looking for his mother he found the Guants. As a family descended from Slytherin himself they spoke parseltongue.
In the summer of 1938 Tom Riddle visited his uncle Morfin in the tiny shack the family had called home. Morfin had let his hair grow wild, his nails just the same, and hissed in parseltongue at the teenager, brandishing a knife.
After calming his uncle, having to stun him before speaking to him in parseltongue, he learned the truth about his heritage. He left his uncle be, though promised to check back in.
Tom spent his third year of Hogwarts learning all he could about his family, both sides. In his search he discovered the secret of hogwarts. A chamber in the basement where a Basilisk slumbered.
Before waking the creature he was sure to study it. He did not need his eyes to hear the snake, both its movements and its thoughts. He woke it, wishing to learn more of the ancient wizard he was descended from.
It took everything he had to mentally over power the creature and calm it, but in the end he won its respect and loyalty as his descendant before him. It was the first time he had been properly acknowledged.
Sealing his new friend back up for safekeeping he made the choice to go public with the knowledge of his true heritage. Jaws hit the floor as news spread. The supposed muggle born was actually the heir to the mighty Salazar Slytherin. It disgusted him how many flipped attitude, practically grovelling where they were once spitting.
It was easy to do harm. It was not easy to be benevolent and forgiving. By the end of his third year Tom Riddle was one of the most popular people in school.
In the summer of 1939 Tom visited the man his uncle claimed he looked just like. The man his mother was supposed to have married, and was then abandoned by to die in London. He showed up to the manner in fine muggle attire, attempting to set the man at ease. Tom Riddle Snr, it seemed, wanted nothing to do with the boy and the conversation they had was short.
“You are not my son. You will have none of my wealth. That woman was a witch and a demon and enchanted me against my will. You are mistake!”
Tom did not blink as he returned, “I apologize for your ill experience with the magical world. And for taking your time today. Thank you for seeing me.” Leaving the entire Riddle family stunned and wordless he departed and the manor and never returned.
There was no point in pursuing a relationship with a man who clearly saw nothing but anger at his presence. He never saw Tom Riddle Snr alive again.
With his answers in hand he spent the rest of his summer in the backyard of his childhood refuge and pondered what it all meant. He came from two worlds and had seen how wonderful and how cruel each could be.
It was easy to do harm. Those words kept repeating in his head. How easy it was to do harm to others, how simple it was. How much more challenging it seemed to be to help. It was that summer that he wondered what would have become of him, should he not have had Beverly and Stuart, who showed him what love was meant to feel like.
Though he could never feel it, he still understood it. If anything, he was obsessed with it in another way. A feeling he could never feel, but perhaps could protect in others?
“Tom.” His mother’s voice broke his thoughts one evening, the softness she had could make almost any anger or pain disappear. She was love, and he knew it. It almost made him sad he could not love her as she loved him.
“Tell me mother, what makes a person evil?”
“I don’t think there really are evil people, Tom, we each have the capacity to be good or evil. It is our actions that define us. Selfish actions that hurt others, those are evil. Kind actions that help others, those are good. But it’s not an easy line to draw in the sand.” She gently took his cheek and kissed his forehead. “Does that answer your question?”
He thought for a moment before he nodded. Earlier he had met a house full of muggles who feared and hated him for his magic. But here, right before him, sat a muggle woman who loved his magic, who encouraged it at every chance.
There were evil muggles just as there were evil wizards. Both worlds needed to be better.
Tom return to Hogwarts in his fourth year and proudly updated his status to halfblood. He kept his name as a symbol of the movement he now stood for. Muggles and wizard living together. It was in this year that Riddle befriended the person who would go on to help him learn to be charismatic and charming. The person who would become not only his best friend, but his moral compass.
He excelled in his classes, earned many O’s and E’ on his OWL’s and later his NEWTs. He was chosen as a prefect, and later Headboy.
The Auror.
Upon graduating he joined the Auror’s.
Auror training was much more intense and fulfilling then school had proven to be. Tom took to his job quickly and passionately. He finished training and was out in the field before the rest of his class, even his own best friend.
While on a mission to investigate possible Grindelwald activity Tom Riddle witnessed the might of muggles first hand. On August 6th, 1945, a cloud of fire and destruction was visible far and wide. It was suspected the explosion might have been wizard assisted. The investigation brought the entire team back with chills, and ills from a strange sickness. The oldest on his team died before the Healers of St Mungo’s could cure the ailment.
Tom had felt the effects. Muggles may not have had magic, but he now understood why wizards chose to stay hidden for so long. They could be just as destructive as Grindelwald himself.
It was easy to do harm.
He recounted the event in great detail to his friend, later, who was frantically trying to help the Healers find a cure. They were all lucky his long time friend had a phoenix companion who shed tears to save them.
Once his partner and him were fully trained Auror’s they became a dangerous and dynamic team that quickly earned a reputation for getting the job done, and cleanly. Any time Tom felt himself sway into anger he looked to his friend, who always seemed to know he was about to stray.
A ritual killer, acting on the moral of Grindelwald’s cause, had been eluding the Ministry for months, killing targets that seemed unlikely. It was Tom Riddle that began to put the clues together, finally catching up to his trail.
In an attempt to throw him off his trail, and to incite his rage and ire, the killer murdered Tom Riddle Snr, and the entirety of the Riddle home. There was talk of pulling Tom off of the case, for fear that seeing this clearly personal attack would cloud his judgement.
It had the opposite effect. The killer gave Tom all the clues he needed in his personal attack. Unphased he breezed through the evidence, sending a cold chill down many spines at the levels of cool dispassion he seemed to feel.
It was the first time the people around him caught a glimpse at the dark side of Riddle. The side that truly could not feel love.
Within days Tom had found the killer and he was carted off to Azkaban. It was during his first official trip to the prison that Riddle discovered the apathy Dementors treated him with. They seemed to ignored him, aware of his presence, yet uninterested. He told no one of his discovery, preferring it to remain a card up his sleeve.
Riddle’s renown saw him promoted over the older and much more likely candidate of Bartemius Crouch, who was already a judge. At the age of 24 Tom Riddle became head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He did not squander his promotion, especially with so many older wizards now enraged at this young man very quickly moving up the ranks and gaining public fame.
Within his first few months, as head of the department, magical crime began to drop. He formed a secret covert group of Auror’s, promoting his friend to the first position. They chose a design together and that became their shared symbol, forever etched into each others souls. A Basilisk coiled up and around a phoenix, which shed a single tear. The Death Eaters.
After the first year his partner grew uncomfortable with many of the choices Tom had to make in order to ensure the safety of other people. There were some incidents where their morals were brought into question.
It was at the funeral of his adoptive parents that his friend told him he was leaving the Auror’s to take up a position as a professor at Hogwart’s. Feeling that anger begin to boil at feeling so much change on one day he snapped.
“Of course, just leave. Why not. It is not as if we made a promise.”
“We did, my friend. And that is exactly why I have to do this. I am not suited for this work and you know it.”
“I think you are fine Auror.”
“Maybe. Sure. But that’s not it anymore.”
“Then what is it? Do not make me read your mind after I vowed not too…”
“It’s the kids, Tom. I hate to say it but watching another good set of people go in the ground reminds me that we have still have more coming in. New eyes, fresh eyes. I need to be there. I can do more good there. Just like you can do more good staying on the path you are on.”
“... I did not plan to do this without you.”
“You won’t be without me, old friend, we are going to do great things, just on different sides of the coin. Someone has to look out for the next generation, right?”
“Perhaps you are right. It will be strange not seeing you every day.”
“I’ll miss you too, Tom. Don’t worry, I’ll still be keeping on eye on you. Someone has to make sure you don’t snap and go on a murder spree.”
Tom raised a single brow at his friends humour, but cracked the smallest of smiles.
They both laughed.
The Minister.
At 31, after having so many successful years running the Magical Enforcement, Tom Riddle was elected to Minister of Magic. Crouch was finally promoted to head of Law Enforcement, and the two men worked out their differences so that they might work peacefully.
Tom took his remaining Death Eaters with him, as they worked directly for him and not within the regular laws of Auror’s. Officially, on paper, the Death Eaters do not exist. They are a hidden department of the Ministry with “need to know” priority. Their movement is mostly rumours that Riddle became clever at navigating.
He had almost as much opposition as support, but accepted the position. In his first year he began the Mistreated Magical Youths Rescue Services to prevent more youth abuse. The original intention of the program was meant to search out lost magical children and ensure they have a proper introduction into the magical world.
It was in later in his second year as Minister when he began to aim the program at children from abusive magical Pureblood families.
The first child in the Pureblood world to go through the program was Barty Crouch’s son, junior. It was quickly discovered by Tom’s old friend, who had since become the Headmaster of Hogwarts, that the boy was being heavily abused at home. Riddle swooped in with his program and fished the boy out in his youth, taking him in himself and training him to be a Death Eater.
Bartemius Crouch Snr was fired from his job. It spurred a duel in the halls of the Ministry with Crouch spouting profanities through a purple face as he blasted through Auror’s to get at Riddle. After disarming the man and restraining him he saw to it that he personally snapped the mans wand before sentencing him to time in Azkaban for his attack on his fellows.
Junior became Riddle’s number one Death Eater shortly after graduating.
Many other children followed suit, many more becoming Death Eaters as Riddle rescued them and then offered them sanctuary and the illusion of love.
Tom Riddle thought for certain he would be voted out of office his second term for all the changes and upset he caused. To his surprise he was voted back in with an overwhelming voice. Even those who hated him saw that he was the force keeping the followers of Grindelwald at bay.
Riddle has spent his years fine tuning the Ministry, working alongside his friend at Hogwarts to push for a better world for wizards. In his second term he began solid contact with the muggle Prime Minister.
It has been three years into his third term as Minister and he is gearing up for war as more and more evidence of Grindelwald’s return begins to surface.
Person behind the Character
- Chat Box/OOC Name: Smare
- How did you find us: I made this place.
- Any Previous Character: None
- Role Playing Sample: A tawny owl swept into the room, dropping a letter on the top of a massive wooden desk. The pile of letters seemed the only thing out of place in the pristine office. Shelves of books lined the walls, their spines matched and aesthetically pleasing on the eye. A hearth lay dormant, the remains of ashe and cinders with the added fresh logs, which clearly supplied light and warmth to the entire room when lit. Before the hearth was a deep green plush bed, sized for what seemed a large dog. The only noise was the tied drapes swaying in the breeze from the open window.
The owl took perch at the designated spot, helping itself to a snack and a cool drink of water. It was startled mid drink as the door opened. In strode a figure, the occupant of said office. He removed his hat and his trademark scarf, placing them on the coak rack, before his outer jacket joined them. It was a chilly October day, enough so that the tip of his nose and ears were more pink from the nipping cold. With a flick of his fingers the hearth burst to life once more.
“Much better, would you not say, Nagini?” He spoke to a creature that slithered down his leg and toward the pillow. She was a massive snake and still growing. The heat from the fire was welcome after such a cold trek outside.
Yesssss.
Tom Riddle, returned to his office, set his focus on the pile of mail gathering on his desk. The letter at the top of the pile had his eyes. The seal was green and marked with a snake and basilisk.
Walking around to sit in the massive chair he lifted the letter with magic and floated to his fingers. Once it was in his grasp the seal popped open, the magic releasing its charm. The letter was written in shining green ink. His dark blue eyes scanned each word with care.
Though he showed no outward change he felt his entire being begin to vibrate.
Grindelwald.
More news. More proof he was alive and active, that he was coming to strike them next. For so long he had kept the crazed man out of his cities, both magic and muggle alike. But it was become increasingly more difficult.
The loss of the Werewolves, thanks to the callous actions of Lyal Lupin, had been a tremendous set back. If he lost the giants it would only get worse.
“How long before he pushes people too far?” He stood as he spoke out loud to the familiar in the room. He had yet to acknowledge the owl taking refuge at his post perch. One got used to owls when you were the Minister of Magic, they were so frequent.
Crossing the room to his shelves of books he pulled three titles, from different spots, forward. With a click the shelves opened and behind them was a small alcove with a cork wall and a small table. The entire space was covered in papers, letters, clippings, moving photos, and more, all connected by a shimmering silver thread. Most of it floated around, while some seemed magically pinned to the wall. On the table where several artifacts.
He held up the letter and it floated into the chaos, a silver line drawing from it to several others.
It was an incomprehensible mess to most, but a large portion was clearly Grindelwald and his movements. “I see what you are doing. It will not happen while I draw breath.”
