AN: I Don't own anything of the Harry Potter series. No money being made; no harm intended. Okay, so, this was originally written for an End of School fanfic contest, where we had to write about the characters and how they interact with the end of school. Winner of "End of School" Challenge Mods' Choice. Please review!
As he stared down at his trunk containing an assortment of strange objects, he brushed back a lock of black hair from his thin face. His fellow dorm mates were already down at the feast, but, for some reason, he found he wasn't entirely ready to do so himself. He rifled absentmindedly through his trunk, checking, without caring, to make sure he had everything he needed for his departure. But did he want to depart so soon? Did he want to go back to that life; where the feeling of constant discrimination towards him hung even more so now?
There was no denying it. There; he was different. There, he was disliked – maybe to the point of being hated. They had always treated him unlike the others, but now he had a sickly feeling at the prospect of leaving Hogwarts – leaving his true home. Now he would have to return there with the knowledge that in an instant he could wipe them all out… but can't. Wizard Law forbids any underage students from performing magic outside of school, which he was no acceptation to.
He scowled as he came across an old, mediocre gift he had received whilst with them. A worthless wasteful gift. Nothing from them came from the heart. They only did it to keep him from complaining – to keep him from losing control.
He had lost control quite a few times, and, occasionally had even harnessed the strange power that came with such a surge of energy. It was because of this that he had become the subject of curiosity, and more than once, he was the first one to receive accusations when strange happenings arose. With the present in his left hand, he used his wand in his right hand and levitated it into the air. From there, with an angry flick, he sent it hurling into the wall, where it cracked in two. He looked down at the broken pieces, feeling almost as though he were loosening himself from their toxic grip on his soul. It was a good feeling; it made his eyes shine and his heart pump. He didn't need them anymore. He had magic… he had Hogwarts.
He turned away from the cracked item, and instead turned his attention to his wand. His wand fascinated him. It gave him a feeling of power, yet called for fear in the eyes of others. Its core represented power in itself: The Phoenix, whose tears had healing powers and could carry immensely heavy loads, provided one of its own tail feathers for his wand. It was a source of pride for him, whether he could share it with the outside world or not.
Upon checking the time, he decided he had better get down to the Great Hall, less risking having no food at all. But before he left, he turned soundlessly to the dresser beside his bed. Opening the draw, he pulled out a small dark book. Flipping through it, he came across a blank page. Inside it, he wrote the following:
Dear Diary,
This entry will not be my last. Although I cannot stay at Hogwarts over the summer, I shall not let that interfere with my plans. I will learn all I can about magic, and I will learn all I can about my parents. My mother may have died, but I am determined not to succumb to the same fate as her. I am far from my maximum amount of knowledge. There are still skills to learn, senses to adapt, and, of course, experiments to attempt. My course has always been apart from theirs, I just need to set it.
Tom Riddle