The other boys at the orphanage couldn't understand him. He was other, and they disliked it.
They tried beating him. Maybe, he thought (as they hit him again, again, again), they might be able to beat the evil from his body.
But nothing could hurt him; not fists, not fingernails. He was untouchable.
Freak, they cried, scared now. As they ran, they promised to make his life hell.
He laughed, for he was not a freak.
He was hell itself.
-o-
He found there was a beauty in cruelty, and he taught the other Slytherins how to see it, to use it.
They called themselves his friends. He let them, for it was only when they stood by his side that he could feel how they feared him.
He called them his followers, for that was the truth. Where he walked, they followed.
The devil walked amongst them.
-o-
When he arrived, Godric's Hollow was quiet. The family could be heard from the street, the child the loudest of all.
The prophecy was a minor issue. No one could kill him; no wizard, and certainly no child. He was untouchable.
Either must die at the hand of the other.
He laughed.
Hell was upon them, and he hoped it would be beautiful.
-o-
[Word Count: 210]