Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Tom Riddle had never liked this… church place that he was made to go to. It didn't make much sense to him – all these people gathered to worship someone who had died nearly two thousand years ago. Ridiculous. They taught strange beliefs, ones which countered everything he had experienced. Everything he had done. Everything he could do. They seemed to think that causing harm, hurt, was bad, a sin. They seemed to think that everything could be controlled. That he could be controlled, bound to their ways.
But why control what power you had? Why refrain from harming all those who did not have power, too weak to seek it? They needed to be shown their place. He could show it to them.
He could make them hurt if he wanted to.
Then there were the things he could do, things that no one else could. They said that things that were... unnatural, he supposed, things like that which he could do, were signs of witchcraft. Signs of evil. It was not evil, though, it was power. Power. Greatness.
And yet they said it was all sin. None of it to be used, acted upon, thought of, even. None of it.
He could make them all bend to his will, that he felt sure of. He should show them. Show them once and for all what he could do. But something – something stopped him. A premonition, almost. As though he had to wait. And he could wait. He was good at waiting. At biding his time.
Oh, Tom certainly didn't believe in anything he was taught there.
He had always known that he was different. He had always known that he was better, stronger, smarter than the other children. He had to be, for how else could he make them bend to his will so easily? How else could he keep them under his control? That had been his thinking when he was younger, and had known less of the world.
He knew better now.
He knew that there were things he could do that only he could do, things that even he had thought were unnatural at first. But he had quickly discovered that the odd things that kept happening could be controlled, contained and only unleashed upon those who truly deserved it. Compassion, he called it, though he was loathe to apply the principle. True, it was compassion of a different sort to what any other person had told it as, but no matter.
He was getting tired of it, at any rate.
Oh, not the powers, the strange mystique that made every other child in the place fear and obey him. No, it was the restraint he had forced himself to use for so long. It was so tiring, so boring to be ordinary, to have to hide what was his. Sometimes, he almost tired of hurting the other children, even.
No. That was a lie. He relished it, relished the looks in their eyes, the terror on their faces. He had power, and they knew it. But it struck him that they were no challenge for him. They were weak, and simple-minded, and it was far too easy for him to be their master.
What he had wished for, just sometimes, was someone else who shared these odd powers he had. Someone with whom he could talk to about it, hone his abilities with, challenge himself with. Perhaps, even, someone who could follow him.
It had crossed his mind once or twice, on dreary Sunday mornings stuck on an uncomfortable wooden pew and ignoring the pointless sermon, that he could be like the one who was sung about, written about, worshipped, for lack of a better word. Followed might be a better term, he allowed.
And he certainly wanted people to follow him.
He could see himself there, at the head of what could be an unstoppable army of people like himself, people who would do his bidding, and he liked the image. It sat well in his mind, and kept him where he was. Maybe someone would come, someday, and take him to a place where he could rule, once and for all.
As long as he was not betrayed, that was. He would not run that risk. Once he was done with bringing himself to the peak, no one would dare go against him, of that he was sure.
So he waited.
Author's note
Hello, all. This is just a little character introspection piece that I penned some time ago. The original intention was for it to be somewhat longer, but things didn't quite work out that way, and that's alright. Short is good, sometimes.
~JV