A/N: This was written for the second round of the Childhood competition on the HPFC forum. Its a little disjointed (sorry!) but I hope its enjoyable anyways.
Here's the thing about prophecies, about sealing your fate on a madwomen's words; about believing the world is nothing more than a crown you deserve for your creations: all lives are intertwined. You are dooming yourself to be nothing more than a mirror of the horrors you create.
i. Parents
Merope Gaunt is hideous, the result of generations of inbreeding, but Tom Riddle does not learn that for years. He has no photos, no memories from beloved friends or kind comments from strangers on streets. The muggles who run Wool orphanage do not even know her name: they bury her in an unmarked grave, paid for by a muggle charity.
"Charity," Tom will say one day, sneering. "My mother was a pureblooded witch, a member of the Sacred 28. She never should have needed anything from those filthy muggles."
One day, Abraxas Malfoy will lean forward, scrutinizing, and vow to make this boy his lord. One day, Lord Voldemort will rise from the ashes of Tom Riddles hatred.
For now, however, Tom Riddle is nothing more than another orphan, watching as the children around him disappear into better homes and brighter futures.
He gets comments from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon here and there, about a lazy, good-for-nothing father, and a foolish, freakish mother.
Harry loves his parents, he always does, but he wishes sometimes that they didn't get into the car drunk that night. He's always wanted parents, especially ones that are freaks like him.
ii. Magic
Tom is not like the other kids in the orphanage. It is the fundamental understanding that governs his world, the words he reminds himself when the other kids team up to pick on him. He is magical and the sheer thought of what he can do, his potential, is the one thing that keeps him going.
He has talents that no one else does: the snakes keep talking to him in the back yard and they say he is worthy, an heir of something bigger than anything he has ever even dreamed off.
A smirk that spreads across his face is venom in its deadliest form. The snake-speaking shrinks to nothing in comparison to his other talent: when people hurt him, they always feel pain.
It's not his fault that what he does is unnatural, no matter what his aunt and uncle say. He didn't mean to end up on the roof, or to dye his teacher's hair blue, it just happened!
A lot of things happen around him, and a small part of Harry thinks that it's because he's special, not because he's freaky. It's almost magic, what he can do when his emotions run high. He wants more of it, to be around people who understand and don't just lock him in his cupboard.
It's just a wish though, Harry thinks sadly, lying on the cold mat in the cupboard under the stairs. Magic doesn't exist and no one's coming to rescue him.
iii. Stories not yet told
Our story is one in which old men play with people's lives like pawns and a broken boy grows up in an orphanage, surrounded by his own rage because it was never his choice that led him to this, to poverty and abandonment and an irrational attachment to the word mine.
That's our story.
Our story is one where gods are men drunk on their own power and foolish men looking in others minds forget to lock their own hearts; where mold grows in a courtroom that makes the law and everyone is too far gone to care.
Our story is one in which magic choose the most capable of heirs and puts the future in his eyes.
Harry doesn't have a story yet because he's never thought of himself as a hero in one. He's just Harry, the boy from the cupboard under the stairs, Dudley's favorite victim, and a small but sharp kid snapping back insults to his bullies.
He is a hero, though, even if he doesn't know it yet: He's Hermione's rescuer and closest friend; the target of Ron's jealous admiration and loyal friendship; the chosen one with a phoenix, bursting in to save Ginny from dying on the chambers frozen floors. One day, Harry will lead an army. One day, people will die in his name.
For now though, Harry's just an orphan kid who the neighbors whisper about; a kid never pushing his boundaries because he only ever pushes for other people.
iv. The beginning
In his first impression of the magical world, all of Tom's treasured possessions are set aflame by a man trying to push his moralities onto others.
Tom goes to Hogwarts anyways. Albus Dumbledore is not the first to doubt Tom's abilities and he will not be the last.
The letters come from everywhere- the mailbox, the fireplace, his uncle's hat. Every single one of them has his name of it.
(Harry's never received mail before.)
V. The end
Even in his worst nightmares, Tom never dreamed of dying such a mortal death.
All is well and it is so much more then Harry ever expected.
