Tom, the Triwizard champion
By Aryasark
Disclaimer:
All characters belong to JK Rowling. Only my imagination is mine. And I don't get money from this story. Only a chance to flex my imagination.
Notes:
Script
'Thoughts' and 'Names'
"Speech"
Emphasis
SHOUTING
Parseltongue
Chapter 1. Prologue
This is the story of my life. Specifically, it's a story of a critical- and horrible- juncture in my life. That horrible event was called 'The Triwizard Tournament'. On with my story, then.
My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I spent first 11 years of my life in a godforsaken orphanage called Wool's, with a bunch of bastard bullies and a hag named Mrs. Cole. Now I live in a magical boarding school called Hogwarts for the better part of the year. For the worse part, I go back to that godforsaken orphanage.
I'm special- no, I'm unique. I'm a wizard. I can do magic with a wand. But that's not what makes me special, let alone unique. I'm special because I can do magic even without a wand. And I could do magic without a wand since I was 8. And I could do important magic like torturing since I was 8. The other runts you'll find in my magical school can't do wandless magic even now. Not even most of our teachers can.
That brings me to my school. It's called Hogwarts. I'm currently in my 4th year. Do I like Hogwarts? I'm not sure. Though I, sure as hell, hate everything that's not myself and Hogwarts. I hate my orphanage. I hate this bloody war that the muggle bastards have been fighting since forever. I hate this other bloody war that magical bastards have been fighting with Grindelwald, also since forever. I hate my Transfigurations teacher- an auburn haired pervy bastard that looked remarkably like a rampant pedophile when he came to my orphanage to introduce me to the magical world. That would be the time when he found about the things that I stole from the bullies at orphanage and burned them. Why shouldn't I steal things from bullies? True, I have unfair advantage of magic. But they had unfair advantages of brawn and numbers when they bullied me. So I used my unfair advantage. But, since that day, Dumbledore has been a pain in my ass- he doesn't award me points no matter how well I do in his classes. And I do better than well in all my classes. I ace all the tests. I could brew NEWT potions perfectly, in my third year. I can transfigure my dick to look like king cobra and then attempt to speak with it in parseltongue. (it doesn't respond, but that's not the point- The point is that that's one of the toughest transfiguration imaginable and since I can do it effortlessly, I'm a transfiguration prodigy. Oh and by the way, I'm the true Slytherin, since only I can speak parseltongue.) I can cast all the unforgivables (though I'm yet to cast them on humans yet. Except for my wandless crucio.) But I digress- I was talking about things I hate. I hate my classmates. And my juniors and seniors as well. I hate my boggart. (It's me, dead! Of course I hate it). I hate that whiskered Gryffindor bitch named Mcggonanal or something. She always bothers me by being an uptight cunt. And I hate the house system at Hogwarts.
Hogwarts has 4 houses, of which only Slytherin is worth entering, only Gryffindor is worth beating, only Ravenclaw is worth mentioning and the rest is Hufflepuff. Or so I'd thought when I read 'Hogwarts- a History' for the first time. Now I find none of them is good enough for a special genius like me. The entire Slytherin house thinks I'm a mudblood. And when I say the entire house, I mean the entire house- not a single fucker seems to have realized that there cannot be any mudbloods in Slytherin house. Because there's been no mudblood in Slytherin house, ever. So I cannot simply be a mudblood- a fact that seems beyond my housemates. But they don't try to bully me- they know that I know more hexes than most 7th years. And I never forgive nor forget.
It's always puzzled me- in the whole Slytherin house, there's no one- no one that actually fulfills the criterion for getting into the house- being ambitious and cunning. Except me, that is. Take the example of my own class. There's a fucker called Abraxas Malfoy. He's rich as fuck, at least according to him. And he's dumber than that Warren girl. I've cursed and hexed him for three fucking years and still he thinks he's better than me simply because he's a pureblood. And he's got silver blond hair. The only thing that should rightfully have silver blond hair is his great grandmother's .. Well, I can't think of him without using derogatory language, despite being a super occlumens. Then there's Archioptus Lastrange, whose only ambition is to learn the cruciatus and use it on muggles. And Belladonna Mulcilber, whose only ambition should be to transfigure her nose and chin into something better looking and whore herself out to the better looking of the 5th and 6th years. Because otherwise, she will have Hector Crabbe as her only option. Crabbe himself is as cunning as Professor Slughorn's ass and as ambitious as Fat Friar's ghostly dick. But none of them come close to Walburga Mcnair. The only reason she's not in the house of leftovers is that she's too dumb to understand difficult concepts such as 'teamwork' or 'hardwork' demanded by house Puff. AH MY CLASSMATES ANGER ME!
Now I'm looking forward to yet another year, namely my fourth, in Hogwarts. The Knight's bus left me miles away from Kings Cross station. So I'll have to walk those miles. I can't wait to learn to apparate. That reminds me- I must teach myself flying without a broom. Only fools would choose as unsafe a thing as broom for flying. They're so fragile and jinxable and narrow! Only those who absolutely don't give a fuck about their life, reputation and ass would love brooms. I realized all these facts right during my first flying class. Oh I never went in the air. My broom simply refused to come in my hand, no matter how many times I shouted 'up'. I realized I was making a spectacle of myself. So I summoned it. Then once the flying instructor, Madam Hutch blew the whistle, I braced myself and almost kicked off. Almost, because, right at that moment, Salmonella Finnegan's broom shot of like an arrow and she crashed after few minutes. That was the time when I decided never to mount those ridiculous brooms again. I spent rest of my flying classes jinxing others (including Madam Hutch) expertly. This whole thing about brooms being unjinxable is bullcrap- even a first year Puff can do it if he can cast Wingardiam Leviosa correctly. And I was so much more than a mere Puff. I had purchased a thirdhand copy of the book 'Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies' before coming to Hogwarts and had mastered all the hexes in it. Needless to say, not many students from houses Slytherin or Gryffindor in my year like flying. That didn't stop sods like Malfoy or Charlus Potter from entering their Quidditch teams though. They had had practice beforehand- I couldn't do much to induce the fear of flying into them.
Now that I think about Quidditch, I realize the sheer amount of loss the sport has caused me. In my first year, I fetched house Slytherin a total of 144 points. Yet house Gryffindor won the house cup, just because their seeker- the 6th year Septimus Weasly caught two snitches in time and won fucking 300 points surplus. Similar thing happened last year as well. House Slytherin lost the house cup despite me winning 291 points, just because some uppity Ravenclaw bitch named Agatha Boot caught snitches. Enraged, I formally lodged a complaint against Quidditch to Slughorn. He said some bullshit about team spirit or something. Really, not being a pro in Quidditch has harmed my reputation. People and teachers say 'Hmm Tom is outstanding in classes and first in exams but is not a part of Slytherin Quidditch team'. How can anyone even compare a shitty sport like quidditch with exams? I simply don't get it.
With these thoughts in mind, I entered the barrier between platforms 9 and 10.