I Don't Want to Be Hated
By: TheAscendancy
AN: This is dedicated to my girlfriend. Because she claimed that I would be unable to make her sympathize with Lord Voldemort.
I don't want to be hated. He's different. He says he talks to snakes look at him he's not one of us. He's not one of us he's not one of us. He's a halfblood he's no better than a mudblood he hasn't a family he's not one of us he's not one of us he's not one of us. I don't want to be hated he's not one of us he hasn't a family I heard his mother was a wretch his father's a muggle you know he's not one of us I don't want to be hated hahahahahaha if I'd just had a mother so I could say Mother Mother he talks to snakes hahahahaha he's not one of us so I could say Mother Mother father's a Muggle no better than mudblood Mother Mother if I'd just had a mother so I could say Mother Mother. I don't want to be hated.
"My Lord, everything is prepared."
There she was, that cursed woman. The words flowed from her mouth and ricocheted off of the walls of the manor, each reverberation but another damned alarm forcing back into me the cold reality of it all. Her disheveled curls hung low over her forehead, ropes of tangled blackness, her skeleton of a body bowed before me, her eyes hard with but a tinge of reverence as she prostrated herself, awaiting orders. Oh, how I hated her, loathed and despised her presence.
"Good, my dear Bella. And you know for a fact that Harry Potter disarmed Draco?"
"Yes, my Lord. I made sure Grayback took him to the Malfoy Manor. I saw the flash myself."
A slight twitch crossed my lips. It would all be over soon. Everything was in place, and because everything was in place, I must beg the question: for what other purpose would this wretched woman serve? Has the world any need for such despicable displays of hideousness and malice? Coming to the answer in my mind, my wand settled neatly in the mesh of her curls, poised for the disposal.
I smiled.
And then there was fear – genuine, undiluted fear, almost palpable to the touch – the type that only manifests itself when it knows with some fundamental visceral certainty, knows beyond all possible doubt, that death will come. Her eyes widened, her pale face now snow white, her skeletal fingers shivering as those wavering lips opened and closed in an attempt to save themselves. There was a strange, sadistic beauty to it all, a sort of purity that only emerges when all of the facades, all of the superficialities and subtle schemings of an individual dissipate in the face of terror, when the soul is left bereft of its cover, bare before the final judgment that is death.
I'm like you, Tom. What nonsense is this senile hag spewing? Come to Hogwarts. You'll learn to harness your talents. Hogwarts? You don't belong in this orphanage – you're not like the other kids. I'm not like the other kids I'm not one of them I'm not one of them I'm not one of them.
Slytherin!
Slytherin. That damned hat.
He's a half-blood. Surely he can't be a Slytherin. Surely I can't be a Slytherin. You don't need these books! I don't need those books Oh what's this little Tom's angry just try and take it hahahahaha! You can't you can't you're not one of us quick burn his parchment lock him in the vanishing room Dumbledore will have you expelled hahahahaha! You want to fight just try me you're a half-blood you're no better than those mudbloods you haven't even a family your father's a muggle you're not one of us you're not one of us you're not one of us you still want to duel get your wand out kill me kill me kill me or I'll kill you or is little tom scared
I don't want to be hated I don't want to be hated I don't want to be hated. Why do they hate me why Mother why Mother if I'd just had a mother so I could say Mother Mother
I don't want to be hated! I'll kill them all! I'll hold my wand to their head and watch them squirm, I'll hear them scream, I'll hear them beg
"My Lord, my Lord! Please, my Lord!"
I could feel the fear in her voice.
"My Lord, don't forget what I've done for you! Please! I've been loyal to you, my Lord, I've always served you!"
She was inching away now, but like Hell would I let this slimy little bug get away. I followed her, step for step, until the wall met her back. I could feel it, her fear, her fear!
"My, my, dear Bella. This is quite unbecoming of you. Face death with courage!"
"My Lord! Don't forget! I've carried out the most crucial tasks! I've done so without fail! I've always served you!" she pleaded.
"Oh?"
"Y-yes, my Lord. Was it not I who placed that fake prophecy in the Department of Mysteries? Was it not I who made sure Harry Potter would hear it, would know that it was the fate you created for him, would know that he must face you? Was it not I who made sure Draco disarmed Dumbledore, made sure the Elder Wand fell into the hands of someone Harry Potter could defeat? Don't forget, my Lord! I ensured Potter would be the wand's owner! I'm the reason your plan is proceeding smoothly! It was all me, me, me, your loyal servant!"
It was pathetic, really. Why was she still alive? What was she but a pawn, a mere cog in the great scheme of my plan? Why do such scum even follow me? Do they derive some sort of sick pleasure from it? They're all cowards, every single one of them.
But I suppose that's the human condition, for what are we all but a bunch of cowards, always looking up to something greater, something to put us in our place, to give us order, to fill that empty void at the center of our being? What are we all but twisted, masochistic characters in someone's mind, puppets on a stage, pawns so frightened that we are forced to turn to that nonexistent deus ex machina we call hope?
Hope. You've been gifted with great talents, Tom. You can change the world. You alone can bring hope back to this crumbling world of ours.
She remained still, petrified, her eyes fixed on the wand before her as she uttered her last prayer to the dying hope. A surge of hatred ran through my fingertips as they itched for the kill, lusted for her blood, longed for the remains of her tattered soul. Oh how I hated her so.
Oh how I hate Muggles so. Look at them, so helpless, so ignorant, so blissfully unaware of anything but themselves. The arrogance pisses me off!
And you?
What did you say, Riddle? You've got no voice in the matter. You're no better than the mudbloods! You dare talk back to a pure-blood like me?
And what do you know of the world? There are entire universes you've never considered, an endless number of possibilities to a single story – just open your mind. There are views unheard, leaders unsung, heroes yet to emerge in the Muggle world. You're just too narrow-minded to realize it.
Narrow-minded, Riddle? Just who are you calling narrow-minded? Have you any idea what it's like? They fear us, you know! The Muggles! Do you think they'd hesitate to exterminate us? Why are WE forced to live in the shadows when WE should reign supreme? There's going to be a war, Riddle, mark my words. And there's nothing a Muggle-lover like you can do about it. You think I'm alone? There are legions forming, you know, legions in the Ministry, legions in Hogwarts, legions in the entire Wizarding world that share the same idea, the same vision of utopia. We'll create a world for us, for the wizards, for the pure-bloods! There will be a war!
"There will be a war, my Lord! Please, let me serve you," she begged, tears meshing with the hideous black make-up under her eyes.
I don't know why I did it. I don't know why I relented. Surely, I hated her enough, yet I let her go. Was it a remnant of my consciousness, of my pity, of what little connection I still shared with humanity?
Don't forget your humanity, Tom. You have a duty, you can bring hope back to this crumbling world of ours.
I'm not sure I follow you, Professor.
There will be a war, Tom. Tensions are running high, tensions that, unfortunately, not even I can defuse. There are divisions in the Wizarding world, you see. The more conservative members long for their pure-blood utopia and they'll resort to any means to achieve it. We have to stop them, Tom, by force if necessary. If we don't, the world will be engulfed in madness.
I'm sure you've experienced it, Tom. I'm sure you know the insularity of which I speak. I'm sure you know firsthand the hatred.
Hatred. Why do they hate me? I don't want to be hated.
He's different. He says he talks to snakes look at him he's not one of us. He's not one of us he's not one of us. Let's not play with Tom.
He's a half-blood. Surely he can't be a Slytherin he's not one of us he's not one of us he's not one of us. Oh look he's talking back now let's punish him Mother Mother he's no better than a mudblood what can he do let's get him he's just like a Muggle! Snap his wand! Let's cripple him curse curse if only I'd had a Mother put him under the Imperius Curse and see what stupid things he'll do hahahahaha he's not one of us it's okay he's not one of us he's not one of us he's not one of us Mother Mother he's mad you know mad engulfed in madness
"Be gone!"
Silence. It was gone – the madness finally stopped. Bellatrix disappeared, fearing further provocation.
He's hated, you know. They say his mother had to force a love potion down that Muggle's throat. There was never any love.
Is this the descent into madness?
I don't want to be hated I don't want to be hated I don't want to be hated. Why do they hate me why Mother why Mother if I'd just had a mother so I could say Mother Mother
I don't want to be hated! I'll kill them all! I'll hold my wand to their head and watch them squirm, I'll hear them scream, I'll hear them beg
Please, Tom, please don't embrace the hatred. You mustn't forget your duty, for you, alone, can bring hope back to this crumbling world of ours. It's easy to succumb to the desire, to the lust, but you mustn't, Tom, you mustn't. You can bring an end to the hatred they hold, to the hatred you feel. You can bring hope. You've been blessed with powers I can only dream of, Tom. Use it for hope.
Hope. That's why I did it, you fool, that's why I chose him.
He's not one of us he's not one of us he's not one of us oh how I hate those Muggles so he's no better than a mudblood Mother Mother he talks to snakes snap his wand burn his parchment expelled if only I'd had a mother Hogwarts harness your power Slytherin! curse curse Mother madness don't succumb to it have hope
That's why I did it, damn it! That's why I chose him!
Not one of us not one of us not one of us he's a half-blood father's a muggle Mother Mother hahahaha legions in the Ministry legions there will be a Mother Mother war hahahaha talks to snakes you're not one of us pure blood utopia divisions in the Wizarding world stop them Tom stop them stop them stop them I'll kill them all kill them all I don't want to be hated I'll kill them all don't succumb to it Tom you've been blessed with great talents bring hope bring hope back to this crumbling world of ours
That's why I did it, you senile fool! For hope! That's why I chose him, that's why I chose Harry Potter. That's why I did it all!
I've come to the truth, you see, the damned truth – the truth that man is afraid.
That's the human condition, for what are we all but a bunch of cowards, always looking up to something greater, something to put us in our place, to give us order, to fill that empty void at the center of our being? What are we all but twisted, masochistic characters in someone's mind, puppets on a stage, pawns so frightened that we are forced to turn to that nonexistent deus ex machina we call hope?
And yet, and yet, what is hope if not that which dispels the darkness? What is nature, what is reality, but a series of conflicts, a series of dualities?
Alas, alas, that is human nature, that is the sad truth, the damned truth of it all. You see, the fundamental state of man is fear, genuine, undiluted fear – fear of that abyss, of that void at the center of his being. What is love, what his science but an attempt to escape it, to distance ourselves from that fear, that forever lingering, forever condemning fear? That, you see, that is the human condition – finite, mortal, alone, fearful.
And so man turns to hope, to that greater being that gives him order, that fills the abyss. But, you see, hope is just an empty word. It doesn't exist without darkness, and so man, ignorant of his nature, invents the darkness so that he can find hope. That's the sad truth to it all. What is evil but a convention of society, but a fabrication of an individual's mind, but a manifestation of that abyss he does not understand? No, nothing is inherently evil – society invents the darkness for itself! Yes, that's right, man is afraid, so he must create evil in order to create hope.
Miscegenation? Insularity? It's funny what darkness we'll create – Muggles, squibs, wizards who don't have the right blood. We turn on each other so easily because we're afraid, afraid, you see.
And yet, through this fear, through this darkness, emerges fraternity, emerges brotherhood. We unite against that which we fear, we unite under the hope we've created.
And alas, alas, that is my duty. I must create hope for this crumbling world of ours. That's why I did it, you see, that's why I chose Harry Potter. He is born out of that which I've no understanding, protected by that which I've never known, surrounded by that force to which I am the mere antithesis. He is the symbol of love, of hope.
And I? What am I but a manifestation of the hatred of this world? No, I've never been one of them. They've always hated me. I'm not a Muggle, I'm not a pure-blood. I haven't a family, I haven't relatives. My father was a Muggle, I've never had a mother. I am that loneliness that man fears at the center of his being. And that's why I must be the darkness, I must be the evil, I must be the hatred of this world. I must become that which I despise, must invent for myself the persona of terror, must destroy the world to build it anew. That's why I did it all, you see. My words, my actions, each move carefully calculated to unite the world, unite it under Harry Potter, under hope. I must inspire fear, I must design the insularity, the sadism, the cowardly fear of death that man despises, I must create the darkness so that Harry Potter can create the hope.
Iam the embodiment of man's fears. All of mankind's hatred will be focused on me. They will unite, forgetting what foolish distinctions plagued them before, they will unite – Muggles and wizards, half-bloods and pure-bloods, giants and elves, man and woman – they will unite against me.
Then he'll kill me, then he'll kill me. And with my death will go the fears, the darkness of the world, you see. The hatred will die with me so that the world will be free of that abyss. The hatred will die with me so that only hope will remain. The hatred will die with me so that mankind can prevail. That's why I did it, you see, that's why I did it all.
Here I am again, in these halls, back at Hogwarts. And there he is, Harry Potter. I taunted him, egged him on, almost begged him to kill me.
Dumbledore is dead!
But you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant.
That fool, Harry Potter. Of course I'd known – I'd known all along what Snape, what Dumbledore was scheming. I planned it all, Potter. But you'll never know.
So it all comes down to this, doesn't it? Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does…I am the true master of the Elder Wand.
Words, words, words. How little you know, Potter. Of course you are the owner, I made sure of it. I made sure it would come to this.
Enough talk! This will be it!
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Harry saw Voldemort's green jet meet his own spell, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last. And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit of pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead.
I don't want to be hated, I don't want to be hated, I don't want to be hated.
You aren't hated. You've been gifted with great talents, Tom. You can change the world. You alone can bring hope back to this crumbling world of ours.
If I'd just had a mother so I could say, Mother, Mother, are you proud of me? I did it, Mother, I did it, Professor, I did it. I brought it back. Hope. I brought hope back to this crumbling world of ours.
Hope, hope, hope.
AN: Read and Review!
