Hello there! This is just a one-shot from Voldemort's view, inspired when listening to the song Viva la Vida by Coldplay. How you enjoy!

When I was just a boy, I had dreamed of having everything and being in control of it all. And some might say I had gotten what I'd wished for.

There was no one as powerful as I. There was no one as ambitious as I. There was no one so sure of themselves as I was sure of myself. And knowing this, I went out to rule the world.

When I had lived as a muggle I had learned about great empires, stories of battles and kings... but stories of revolutions too, and loss.

I lived in an orphanage. I hated that orphanage more than anything else in the world because it meant I couldn't ever be a king, no matter how intelligent I was, or what I did, I could never be powerful.

At some point in my otherwise grim childhood, I became aware of powers beyond the norm. I don't know precisely when I realised I might be special but I remember that it made me angry. Furious. I hurt everyone around me in a rage but I found I really didn't care. Because I was still trapped and I suppose I was... frustrated by my lack of power to do anything about it.

I'm sure I would've found my way out - my escape -from that horrid place eventually. But suddenly a strange man appeared and I was saved. A miraculous way out to explore magic? I remembered my dreams of empires.

I was lead to a huge castle made for kings and was told that this would be my home, I felt as if he had announced that I was actually a Prince and would one day inherit a kingdom. My ridiculous dreams had been granted.

But there were hundreds of others just like me, having magic alone wasn't enough so I was sorted into the house for the ambitious and tried to be the best in the world. It paid off.

I also explored the ancient castle and learned its secrets. I learned about my family too, which confirmed my belief that I could one day be like a king. The castle also showed me a magic room that could become whatever I asked it to. For others it was merely a strip of wall, but I was special.

I nearly died once, whilst I was in school. I found a monster in a hidden chamber and it nearly killed me, until I was able to control it. I knew then, how dangerous it would be to become powerful yet audio how it was possibly very rewarding. I took that chance.

When I left the castle, I found myself among muggles again only this time they were so much weaker than I. They didn't have any potential either, as I'd had. They couldn't be kings if I couldn't, why should they be more powerful than I?

I needed reassurance then, that I could be powerful and I hurt those muggles, to prove that I was indeed superior. I have needed many reassurances of that.

I took a risk. To rule the world I had to act and gathered up a band of followers with some charisma. With my visions of the perfect world. To rule the world I had to get rid of the current rulers but they were too strong. I started slowly, killing selected targets, and becoming feared yet stronger too, as they became weaker.

Then I returned to my castle but I was depressed to find I was now unwelcome there, it was horrible. Nevertheless I left part of my self there, literally, though I'd always been there figuratively.

I was stronger than I ever had been yet I realised then that people no longer respected me but feared me. I was closer to my empire every day yet every day I found myself surrounded by the blood of nameless people and people I knew.

I'm not sure whose blood was harder to bear.

Suddenly I became weak. Weaker than I ever had been. Weaker than when I had been an orphan boy without magic. And all the people celebrated.

Even my followers celebrated, it seemed I had lost their trust and they couldn't believe what I had become. They were glad I was gone. What could I do? What should I have done?

I came back. With a body and with magic and still with a determination to have the world. Because I still thought I could run the world. I began destroying the world in my campaign however, leaving death and destruction wherever I went.

Now I look around and I realise I have nothing. Just yesterday I thought I was ruling the world and no one could stop me. Now my castle- not my castle, I corrected. It hadn't been for a long time.

Now it was fighting me. And I would have to fight back. There's people in that castle, who want my head, who want to see me dead and gone.

Oh why did I ever want to be king? My castle would likely betray me, and reveal my soul to those who wished to destroy it but how could I be angry?

The truth is that I destroyed myself. I killed the strange man who had fulfilled my dreams and for what? I had killed many others and I didn't even remember their names. I had scared away all those who had once been close to me all to achieve a wild dream and it hadn't been worth it.

I now carried the same wand he had carried and went to his castle, to fight. I didn't expect to win. Even if I did win, what did it matter when I would win nothing but another day of existence?

I had believed in dreams for far too long, I had dreamed of ruling a happy nation that would prosper under my care. I had dreamed of bells and fine clothes and the most beautiful relics in the world for all to see. I had imagined a world without horrible orphanages, a world with meaning.

Tomorrow, I think the world will celebrate because of me.

Thanks for reading again, if this gets a positive response, I really want to explore more of this idea of loss and regret. (Or maybe I'll write more anyway.) Do connect if you have any improvements though!