WRITTEN FOR QLFC SEASON 9, ROUND 3
TEAM: Holyhead Harpies, Chaser 2
PROMPT: Isn't It Gothic – Write about someone having a change of heart (Dracula)
7. (word) monster
12. (plot point) a funeral
14. (quote) "I am in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things which I dare not confess to my own soul." - Bram Stoker, Dracula
WORD COUNT: 2521
Title source: Demons by Imagine Dragons
My Kingdom Come
TMR
January 4th, 1934
Entry #1
It was my eighth birthday last week and Christmas the week before. The other children got gifts from Mrs. Cole, the matron of the orphanage, but I got you. She's not even trying to hide how much she dislikes me.
This time, I don't really mind. I'm not too sure what to do with a diary, but I think it will be more useful to me than the toys that the others received. Who knows? It might be nice to have somewhere to write down all of my deep, dark thoughts, without having to worry about being judged or hated for them.
Also, it might be pleasant to have a friend to entrust my secrets to. I know that friends are usually other humans, but I've learned over the years that humans are awful. They're greedy, selfish, cruel and heartless, and you have to turn into the same if you want to survive amongst them.
You may be just a stupid book, but at least I have confidence that you are more trustworthy than any human ever will be.
TMR
November 14th, 1934
Entry #23
Weird things happen around me. They always have. I've tried to control it before – sometimes it works, but usually it doesn't. I'm not sure what it is, but it seems almost like magic. Mrs. Cole is very religious, and the whole 'magic' thing is very taboo at the orphanage, so you're the only one I've told about my suspicions.
I've learned to hide that side of me from others for the most part. A particular rant when I was younger, and the beating that came with it, made sure of that. I try my best to be normal, because bad things happen to people who are different. That's a lesson that was hard earned for me, and I cherish it all the more for it.
Which makes what happened earlier today especially stupid on my part. I just couldn't help myself when the snake talked to me.
I know that it's not normal to be able to understand animals, but curiosity has always been amongst my greatest strengths and worst weaknesses. "Curiosity killed the cat" is another lesson that has been tried to be beaten into me from a very young age, but for some reason, I never really took to it.
Anyway, I was shocked when I could understand the snake, and I couldn't resist striking up a conversation. It seemed free and happy, and I admit that for a moment, I felt jealous of it. It could roam wherever it wished, it followed no one's orders, and it could eat as much as it wanted. Its diet mostly consisted of small critters, the names of which seemed to be lost in translation, and I was envious. Not of the diet itself, but of the freedom that the creature had. It was a mere snake, and I am a human, yet while it ruled its own life, I'm stuck in the orphanage, being beaten and mistreated. I deserve better. I know I deserve better.
I was so absorbed in my conversation that I didn't notice Mrs. Cole come up behind me. She grabbed me by the ear, dragged me inside and locked me in my room. I think she said that she was going to take me to get exorcised or something. It was the first time in a while that she's called me the devil, so I guess the sight of an upright snake and the quiet kid hissing back and forth must have really freaked her out.
TMR
June 23rd, 1935
Entry #39
The ugliness of human nature continues to astound me. Or disgust me, depending on how you want to look at it. You're a book, an objective bystander, so you would probably find humans to be terribly disappointing and exceedingly unpleasant, especially for beings that are supposed to be so intelligent.
I've kept my head down for years, silently taking the beatings from the older children, the stealing of my belongings, and the neglect and dislike from the adults. It doesn't work. Once you're made a target, you can't unmake yourself a target. I've come to the conclusion that the only solution to the problem is to go straight for its roots, to unmake the antagonists themselves. If the antagonists can no longer antagonize, you are naturally no longer a target.
We're going on a trip to the seaside in a few days, and I intend to put my plans into motion. I will finally be confronting Dennis and Amy. Will update you on how it goes.
TMR
June 25th, 1935
Entry #40
The plan went well. At first, I was hesitant. I wasn't sure that what I was doing was right. But as Amy and Dennis cowered before me, I felt an unbelievable rush of power. It was intoxicating. Okay, yes, I got a bit carried away, but at least I'm confident that they'll never come after me again. And if they stay away, so will the others.
As we were leaving the cave I took them to, Dennis called me a monster. I'm still deciding what I think about that.
According to the dictionary at the orphanage, a monster is a creature, often imaginary, that is large, ugly, and frightening.
I'm definitely not ugly; I know that. Even the adults who call me the devil sometimes compliment my physical appearance. I'm not large either, for such a thing is impossible on the meager rations provided by the orphanage.
But I guess I could be called frightening, especially if the fear in Dennis's and Amy's eyes is anything to go by. Maybe I'm so frightening that it makes up for my lacking in the other two characteristics associated with monsters. Or maybe Dennis is just weak, like everyone else. The powerful always appear scary to the weak.
TMR
June 12th, 1938
Entry #51
The past few years have been uneventful, as evidenced by the sharp decrease in entries. The other children no longer bother me, as rumors of my actions against Amy and Dennis have spread quietly amongst them, serving the exact purpose that I had intended. I've stolen back all of the things that they stole from me as we grew up. I stole some of their things too, to teach them that stealing is wrong. They're all stashed away in my cupboard.
Anyway, the reason that I'm writing in you today is because I got an interesting letter from a place supposedly called 'Hogwarts.' My first reaction was that the letter must be a prank, but upon closer inspection, I am doubtful about my initial conclusion. Nobody would go through all that effort just to play a joke on me, and some of the details are too unbelievable to be a lie. Send a reply with an owl? Seriously? It would've been more realistic if it were a lie, because all good lies are built around a kernel of truth.
TMR
August 5th, 1938
Entry #58
A man called Dumbledore came to visit me today. The meeting didn't go too well, but I don't really care because MAGIC IS REAL.
Of course, I already knew that, but now I know that there's a whole magical world out there and that there are uses for magic that I've never even dreamed of.
More importantly, the magical world is a place where I can be normal. I'm no longer the strange boy with even stranger powers, I'm just another wizard among thousands. Well, maybe not 'just another wizard.' I can't stand for mediocrity, for averageness. It bothers me in the same way that my name does. Tom. What an utterly common and frivolous name. I've mentioned my loathing for my name before, haven't I? It's completely unbefitting for someone as talented and intelligent as I.
Dumbledore doesn't seem to trust me, much less like me. He somehow knew about the stolen items in my cupboard, and made me agree to apologize and return them. I have a feeling it's a bad idea, but I plan to do it anyway. Dumbledore doesn't seem like the type of enemy I want to make so early on. If only he weren't so naive. For an adult, he seemed to have a terribly hard time understanding that I only did what I had to in order to survive. If others got hurt in the process, that just meant that they weren't strong enough not to.
TMR
September 4th, 1938
Entry #61
My first impression of Hogwarts can be generously called lackluster. Once the novelty of being in a school for magic wore off, I took a closer look at everything around me. The entire society seems to be built off of wealth and nepotism, the only exceptions being the uniquely powerful, like that Grindelwald fellow in Eastern Europe that I've been hearing about.
Perhaps, once I've finished my schooling, I'll return to the Muggle world, where it won't be hard to come to wealth and power, especially with magic at my disposal. It just doesn't feel worthwhile to fight against a system that is inherently biased against me.
I was sorted into Slytherin; fitting, as it's the house of the cunning and ambitious. Yet, I can count on one hand how many of my new housemates have displayed even a modicum of either. Even my head of house, a walrus-man named Slughorn, blatantly and unashamedly excuses his own mediocrity by way of his expansive network of connections.
My plans to be 'normal' are looking bleak, as being normal with my blood status would likely have me end up drowning in my own ineptitude and working as a cashier at best and dead in a ditch at worst. It's been mere days since I arrived and I've already gotten flak for being a 'mudblood' in the noble house of Slytherin, merely because of my Muggle surname.
Inbred morons.
I am a Parselmouth, as I've learned it's called, so I must have magical ancestors. Salazar Slytherin himself, no less. If only they knew…
Well, the truly cunning must keep a few secrets. In this case, keeping my abilities hidden keeps my options for the future open. I can tolerate the mocking and derision if it means that I can rise to my rightful place when the time comes. After all, old Ollivander said that he expected great things.
TMR
January 2nd, 1941
Entry #94
I regret going back to the orphanage for the winter hols. Or maybe I don't. If I hadn't, I never would have gained my newfound conviction.
Allow me to explain. Shortly after I left for Hogwarts last autumn, the Nazis began a bombing campaign on London that is being called "Blitzkrieg." Of course, stuck in the wizarding world as I was, I had not heard hide nor hair of it until I had returned to the orphanage, in Muggle London.
Let me tell you, any amount of mocking for having no home to return to would be better than the constant fear, paranoia, and anxiety that I lived for the last week.
But that brings me back to my revelation. I realized that I don't want to feel fear. I don't want to feel weak. Most importantly, I don't want to die. If I were immortal, what use would I have for the former two?
TMR
September 7th, 1941
Entry #109
Wasted potential as far as the eye can see. That's what the wizarding world is. Unlimited power at its fingertips, and only one person has found the secret to immortality. Even then, Flamel is a frail old man who relies on a stone and a potion for his longevity. When I figure it out, I'll have no such weaknesses.
TMR
December 14th, 1941
Entry #114
I am not normal.
I have accepted this now. To be normal is to be ordinary, and I am nothing if not the extraordinary. I had thought that tapping the resources of the Muggle world would be a simple affair with the use of magic, but I'm beginning to think that doing the same to the magical world may not be any more difficult. How hard could it be, with access to such a wondrous thing as magic? Real magic, powerful magic. The kind that no one else was willing to search or work for.
No, I don't think I shall leave the magical world alone. They deserve to be slaughtered for their laziness and weakness, yet that does not even begin to describe what I desire to do to them. Sometimes, my darker thoughts still scare me, like they tended to do when I was little. That fear often leads to doubt, but quickly comes the reminder that doubt is a weakness, and conviction once again takes its hold in my mind.
Still, I dare not tell you the most twisted ideas birthed from my imagination, for I worry that seeing them in my own handwriting may inspire a doubt within me that even my indomitable will cannot overcome.
The important thing is that, someday, I will personally tear apart the magical world. I will shake the boat unlike any before me; the strong will swim and the weak will sink. It will be up to them to choose which path to take. Yet, I still have old scores to settle with the Muggle world as well. Perhaps I should attempt to kill two birds with one stone.
"I am in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things which I dare not confess to my own soul."
TMR
May 30th, 1943
Entry #147
It is time. My search for immortality is finally bearing fruit. Soon, you shall be trusted with something far greater than my secrets, and as such, this is my final entry. Your time as a diary will be coming to an end, much akin to the end of my life as Tom Riddle.
This feels like a goodbye, even though we will still be together. I've never really had any friends, but I've always had you – since my eighth birthday, at least – and I will always be grateful for that. It feels strange, being grateful toward a book, but really, who else truly deserves my gratitude?
This is my last chance to be maudlin, as self-pity and sentimental thoughts will be unbefitting once I become Lord Voldemort. So I will take the opportunity to mourn for you, and for myself, at this little funeral of ours. No one else will, so why shouldn't I?
I can't honestly say that we've lived a good life, because truthfully, we haven't. My life thus far has been rife with pain and struggle, and you haven't yet lived at all. Both, though, are about to change, for our funeral is one quite unlike any other.
I shall be reborn as Lord Voldemort, the epitome of strength and power, and you shall be reborn as my Horcrux, the loyal keeper of my soul. And together, we will rule the world.
AN: Well, this was fun to write. Not much in the way of the "monster" prompt, but I felt that the sociopathic nature of TMR's inner thoughts kind of spoke for itself. Big thanks to my teammates, gingerdream and MissyAndTheDocs for their beta work.