Why I Hate

Tom Marvolo Riddle was in deep thought as he sat in the soft leather sofa at Malfoy Manor. It was to happen soon, real soon. It seemed as if his goal was only slightly out of reach, but soon enough, He would finally have the chance to kill the one person that stood in the way of his complete control of the Wizarding world. He would finally have the chance to kill Harry Potter.

The Dark Lord sat still, wallowing in his hatred. He hated everything. The entire wizarding populace knew that Lord Voldemort didn't so much as have a shred of love or compassion in his heart. However only the Dark Lord himself knew why he hated.

I was left alone by the two people in the whole world who were supposed to show me what it feels like to love. My mother, the dumb bitch, ran off because that no good piece of shit I was supposed to call a father ran off after the love charm placed on him by my mother wore off.

I grew up in an orphanage, whose caregivers and residents ridiculed me for being "strange" and "unnatural". At that time, I had not realized I was a wizard. Their words stung like millions of tiny blades raining down on my heart. "You've got the devil in you!" they'd shout; they would say that I was the antichrist, sent to destroy mankind. I had begun to notice I had strange powers, abilities that no one else around me had, and they had noticed.

When I finally met Albus Dumbledore, and he told me of Hogwarts and the Wizarding world, I for once, felt I had found a place where I belonged, that I no longer needed to feel as if I was out of place. However, as the years passed and I became more adept in the magical arts, my peers began to distance themselves from me. They told me that I was become too engrossed in magical studies and that I should slow down. "Relax" they'd say, but I had no intent in relaxing but rather revenge. My Hogwarts peers began to ridicule me as well, and when I secretly began learning the Dark Arts, they began to fear me. I soon discovered that I enjoyed when others feared me, as I used their fear as a means for them to do my bidding.

I fashioned a new name for myself, abandoning that filthy common name given to me, and under my new alias I began to take my revenge. I vowed that not only would I rule the magical world, but I would more importantly exact my revenge upon the muggles. All those people who said that I was destined to failure and shame because of my powers; they would all pay. I gained the allegiance of the noblest and most well known pure-blood families and promised that I would rid the world of those not of purest blood as well as those disgusting half breeds and muggle-borns. Hundreds of wizards met their end at my hand.

I cannot, however understand why I could not rid of that wretched Potter child. I hate him the most. Potter is just like me. His parents gone, he grew up around those who shamed and ridiculed him. He too, learned of his heritage and set off to further his abilities. However, unlike me, the boy found friendship, love, and happiness amidst the danger that I would return. I hate the fact that he always portrays the "hero" even though he is mediocre at best in his ability. Yet he could not be killed that day when his parents were killed. I had only succeeded in destroying my physical form, leaving the bastard with nothing but a scar.

Why Potter, do I seek to kill while you seek to preserve? Why have I been unsuccessful in past attempts to kill you? Why was I not shown the power of love, happiness, friendship, and the like? I never had what you had, and I hate you for it. The whole world hates me, it always has. I've always been alone in the world.

I had no one.

That is why I hate.

fin