Muggles, as a whole, were a very ignorant race.
They all seemed to have a special talent for not seeing what was right under their noses.
Ghosts, aliens, vampires, bigfoot, sea monsters, psychics, magic – they all had such skill with explaining things away.
Why do muggles so desperately not want to admit to the existence of these things? They don't want to believe. They like to delude themselves into thinking that science is the answer to everything, and that anything that cannot be proven by the rational, scientific method simply does not exist.
Since the dawn of time, muggles spent considerable energy and brain power making excuses for the supernatural. Ghosts were simply figments of one's imagination, an hallucination, a hoax. UFOs are swamp gas which reflected off of Venus, flocks of birds, a star mistaken for a ship. Vampires obviously did not exist. There was no proof whatsoever, of course. Never mind that most cultures all throughout the world had some tale having to do with them – that wasn't good enough. Bigfoot was a fake, an ape, or a man in a ridiculous costume. Sea monsters were floating logs, sea weed, large water snakes, or some kind of prehistoric dinosaur. Psychics were nutcases who imagined that they had visions. And Magic – Magic was possibly the most utterly impossible thing muggles had ever heard of. Magic simply did not exist. It never had, and it never would.
What the ignorant muggles didn't know, however, was that magic did in fact exist. And there was an entire world to prove it. But muggles didn't know of this world and never would.
You wouldn't think that muggles, being so ignorant, would have much of an effect on this magical world.
But they do.
In fact, most of the problems in the wizarding world stemmed from muggles.
The debate over muggles, and whether wizards were better than them or not, had ripped the magical world apart.
There were those who believed that they, being wizards, were superior to muggles.
And then there were those who thought that muggles and wizards were equals.
There had already been one war fought over this very matter, and now they were in the middle of another.
But something was about to happen which would tip the scale in favor of one side of the conflict.
You see, Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the light side, the side that believed muggles were equal to wizards, had made a severe miscalculation.
He had sent a very, very special little boy by the name of Harry Potter to live with his muggle relatives.
After all, what was a better way to make the boy like muggles than to have him grow up with them?
As it turned out, the light side was doomed the moment they placed little Harry Potter on the doorstep of number 4, Privet Drive.
Harry Potter hated muggles. He shouldn't hate them, but he did. In fact, he despised everything about them. He despised the way they dressed, the way they acted, the way they talked, the way they looked – everything about them he despised.
He hated his cousin.
He hated his uncle.
He hated his aunt.
He hated his cousin's friends.
He hated the muggle neighbors.
He hated muggles!!!
All muggles.
He wondered about Voldemort, wondered about what drove him to hate muggles as much as he did.
What had they done to him at that orphanage that was so bad?
He had spent the first three weeks of his summer vacation obsessing over Tom Marvolo Riddle.
What a riddle the man was.
He'd love to solve that riddle.
And now, as the clock stroke 10:30 PM, Harry Potter sat on the very end of the couch, his unfocused eyes staring at the TV.
Five seconds.
Harry had had an odd dream, a vision, the night before.
Four seconds.
Voldemort had found a way around the wards.
Three seconds.
He planned to kill him.
Two seconds.
He was coming.
One second.
He was on the doorstep.
Ding-dong!
He was here.
Harry jumped up before his uncle could even shout at him to get the door.
Slowly, trying to calm his racing heart, he forced one foot in front of the other until he was standing in front of the door.
Taking a deep breath, he undid the lock and turned the handle, cautiously pulling the door open.
"Lord Voldemort. Just the man I wanted to see. I have an offer for you."
Voldemort paused, the first syllable of the killing curse of the tip of his tongue.
Harry opened the door wide and motioned the dark lord through the threshold.
Warily, he entered the house.
"Who is it, boy?" his uncle called.
Harry smirked slightly, guiding Voldemort into the living room.
"Petunia. Vernon. Meet Lord Voldemort."
Vernon's face turned purple and he started to sputter. All the color had drained from Petunia's face. She frantically pulled Dudley behind her.
"You said something about an offer, Potter?" Voldemort asked, glancing around the room, his wand pointed at Harry.
"Yes, yes. You see, Tom, I've been thinking a lot over the summer."
"Don't call me by that muggle name!!" Voldemort spat.
"I hate muggles, too. They're such . . . disgusting little creatures, aren't they? All of them, scurrying about, completely ignorant of what's right in front of their faces."
"What are you trying to say, Potter?"
Harry walked took a few steps forward so that he was standing only a few centimeters away from the dark lord. He reached his hand up to touch the older wizard's face, which no longer bore any resemblance to a snake. "You've regained your youth. Amazing."
"Potter . . ."
"I'm saying that I think we could make a hell of a good team, you and I. Just picture their reactions – me, Harry Potter, the figurehead for the light, the symbol of everything that is good and pure and anti-Voldemort, had turned evil. They would be crushed."
"How do I know you aren't lying?"
"Would most fifteen year olds be able to lie this well?"
"Most fifteen year olds don't consider becoming evil."
"You were already evil by the time you were fifteen."
"I was different."
"Different? Yes, I guess you were. You are, after all, a sociopath. You were born evil. But just because I've spent the first four years of my time in the wizarding world on the muggle-loving side of things doesn't mean I can't change, now does it?"
Voldemort still looked skeptical. Harry rolled his eyes.
"What? Do you want me to torture some muggles to prove my sincerity to you?" Harry reached out and snatched Voldemort's wand from his hand.
"Crucio!!!"
Vernon Dursley fell to the ground, screaming and writhing in pain.
"Crucio!!!"
Vernon screamed louder.
"Stop it! Stop it!" Dudley screamed.
"Silencio!!!" Harry snapped back. "Crucio!!!"
Dudley toppled over, his mouth opened in a howl of pain which could not be heard.
Harry pointed his wand at Petunia. "Crucio!!!"
The woman's shrieks soon drowned out her husband's.
Finally, Harry handed the wand back to Voldemort. "Satisfied, milord?"
The man looked from the Dursleys to Harry. Eventually, a sinister smile formed on his face. "Yes, yes. I'm very satisfied. So you really wish to join me?"
Harry nodded.
"Come on, then. I must take you back to my manor."
"Er – what about the Order? And school?"
"I'll give you back," Voldemort snapped. "They'll just think that I've kidnapped you for a little while."
"Brilliant."
"But first . . ." Voldemort nodded at the muggles.
"Oh." Harry pulled the wand out of Voldemort's hand again.
"Avada Kedavra!! Avada Kedavra!! Avada Kedavra!!"
Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort soon left number 4, Privet Drive, setting out to spread more terror to the world of the ignorant, unsuspecting, filthy muggles that they both had come to loath so dearly.
Author's Note: This is the prequel to The Love of a Monster. I tried to give a reason as to why Harry would suddenly go evil. I know I didn't really give a reason for why Harry hates muggles to bad, so I guess you all should just draw your own conclusions. I might add another chapter to this or write a sequel to this which explains how Harry gets arrested.
-Snarryvader81 (aka Anna)