Can Voldemort love? If you were to ask that question out loud in the Wizarding World, you would either be laughed at or feared for just mentioning the Dark Lord's name. You could say that he feels the opposite of love; hate. He hates Muggles, he hates Mud-Bloods, and he hates Blood-Traitors.
Can Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. love? Not anymore. He was capable of it when a young blond taught him how. That same boy was also the reason why he stopped.
It had been a busy day for Gregory Smith; the pub was never this full on a Monday night. After a hard day's work, Greg locks the door to his newly opened pub after he grabs a copy of the Daily Prophet. He walks down the street then pauses at a park bench to read the front page. Before he could get a glimpse of the first word, cold hands snatched the newspaper from Greg.
"Bloody hell, what was that for?" Greg stared at the stranger in front of him. Instead of responding, he just crumpled up the paper with a blank expression. Angrily, Greg pulled out his wand but the stranger was faster and pointed his own at Greg's face.
"You do not deserve to own a wand, filthy Mud-Blood," he spat out.
"Don't call me that, young man."
"You don't scare me, Mud-Blood."
A flash of green light shot out in the direction of the pub owner. Feeling satisfied, a smirk littered a pale handsome face. A young Tom Marvolo looked amused as he stared at the corpse that lay limp in front of him. This was his first kill. At first, he was a bit reluctant to take the man's life. He didn't even know his name. After feeling the wave of dark magic run through him, the nervousness was replaced with exhilaration.
Tom walked confidently back to the portkey, his wand still at hand. He reaches over to touch the feather, expecting to be transported back to Knockturn Alley. Instead, he felt an unusual tug at his stomach and he fell facedown onto the ground. He sat up and brushed himself off with a frown.
Instead of the familiar dark alley, Tom found himself in a well lit area; he appeared to be on a rooftop. A few metres away from him was a black stereo playing music. Tom gripped his wand and slowly walked toward the strange object, he had never seen anything like this. Planning to blow up the thing, Tom pointed his wand at it but before he could, someone coughed awkwardly. Gracefully, Tom turned and aimed at the stranger. He was fit and had blond hair. Instead of pulling out a wand himself, the boy looked puzzled.
"Whoa mate," he took a step back, "who do you think you are, Harry Potter?"
Tom grimaces and lowers his wand. He was clearly a Muggle, "Who?"
Author's note: This is my first FanFiction so tell me what you think! =) Hopefully it's not too bad. R&R, no flames please! I'll try my best to post every Thursday.