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The power of words lie in their associations-the things they bring up before our minds. Words become filled with meaning for us, by experience; and the longer we live, the more certain words recall us the glad and sad events of our past; and the more we read and learn, the more the number of words that mean something to us increases.

To me kind words were never introduced. The only words which fell onto my ears were filled with brutality and iniquitous intentions. Books were my only refuge, for they held a world which had excitement and adventure. Words in books never discriminated me nor insulted me. If they did something-then that was simply the crime of indulging me in the emotions they held...

From the moment, when I began my academic studies in my orphanage nursery, I was considered as a bright student with exceptional wisdom...

I was happy during my childhood and youth at my most praise worthy quality, but coming to think about it now; I believe that I had misunderstood it. Anyone can gain knowledge, if they have enough determination and skill. But to process that knowledge and to choose between right and wrong is what 'wisdom' actually is...

Unfortunately for me, I was blinded by my emotions and the screams for revenge from my soul. That was then...I feared death; for as it is, I didn't understand life...

I never wanted to die; for I could battle with life since it was more familiar...The only thing which I wanted was power... 'Power' was the only sane explanation to rein life. After all, even in common sense, survival is insured to those who are the strongest...

Yes power... The only thing which I knew that would keep me alive was to capture ultimate power along with unconquerable knowledge so that I wouldn't ever be subjugated or demoralized again...

But one thing I forgot...Or was determined to forget was the fact that life is uncertain but death is certain.

"There's a foolish corner even in the brain of a sage..." and indeed, these words couldn't have been more accurate...

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"Top marks in the class again! Well done Tom!"

My face broke into a smile with happiness. The only time I felt appreciated was in the school room where the local priests or nuns came to teach.

I skipped out of the school room whistling; for this had been one of the best moments of the day. In my hands was a drawing which was adorned with juvenile scribbling comprising of sticks and circles as figures that I imagined to be as my parents.

The day I had been drawing that, I had asked one priest why I was left parentless if the "God" he spoke about loved all of us equally.

"Some children are given parents to be taken care of...Yet God has special children whom he wants to take care of by himself... So my child, orphans like you are special children of the Almighty..."

This reply satisfied me for a certain period of time...But as years passed, I began to grow doubtful of such muggle predictions.

I was ten years old and moments were getting rough on me... Mrs. Crowe had died and her replacement was a malicious gluttonous man, who cared more about pocketing donations for him rather than running the orphanage.

Days changed into months, when I became exhausted from his continuous exploitation. His son Joe Ryder wasn't everyone's sweetheart as well. Life was a living hell with them, and more so when I was condemned to a terrible punishment when I defied them.

"Polish my boots well or you'll not live to see the living daylight again!"

Furiously I rubbed the boots; my nails all grubby and worn out from the work. A sharp pain was also piercing my spine from constantly bending down to do the menial work.

"Harder!" commanded the merciless voice of Joe Ryder and he dared to slash his horse whip on my back.

However, my temper unchecked I got up to my feet; with breath sprouting out from my nostrils raucously. My fists were tightly clenched.

"Get down to work before I skin you!"

That was it! I couldn't tolerate my rage anymore. But before I could do anything, much to my amazement, I saw Joe Ryder's face change into horror filled astonishment...

For a moment, I realized that he was looking at me. And a blood curling scream cut into the thin air!

I looked at myself to see scales all over my body, jade and golden in color...

I was horrified about myself as well! I screamed at my sight but upon my scream Joe fainted.

My anger subsided and my distorted form disappeared...

Running to the wash basin, I took some water and applied it on Joe's face, trying to revive him, praying that it had to be a dream...

But when he came to, there was a huge roar, and the next thing I knew was that I was getting a thrashing to crack my bones... The huge man fell on top of me and began to hit him like a dog, ripping my clothes and cussing in violent words.

"What are you? A demon?!!"

Next, tethering me with rough coils of rope while I was all naked; he took me in front of the whole town and began to whip me, like I was some animal or a slave...

"Over here is a cursed lad, a demon! I saw this creature turn into a monster! Coils! Like an enormous snake! He even hissed like a cobra!"

I bore it with shame...Anger and humiliation coursed through my veins as muggles crowded around me to begin to root and jeer, as if I was a public spectacle or a source of entertainment...

"Maybe he's a black magician! I'd say burn the fellow!" cried a man.

"He's a child... But he won't try any of his tricks once he gets a fine bit of pain in that brain!" called out a fat woman and a cry of agreement rose in the crowd...

My pitiful cries were matched by encouragements and curses... All what muggles saw in me was a fiend in shape of a 'human:' not a parentless child ignorant to the evil laws set by 'man.'

That was another milestone which lay the path for my terror...Another lash to cripple me, but which succeeded to add the ingredients for me to become Lord Voldemort...

Of course, during my time there were none of the liberties faced in the time of Potter...I was born in a period when people tried to ignore the bad instead of solving it... Mistakes were often corrected through physical torture and embarrassment. Psychology and philanthropy weren't as significant as now in those days...

Did I choose to hate muggles? No... They simply showered me with reasons to hate... If you look at the criminals existing in the muggle society, it's all because of the treatment brought about by the muggles themselves... They are at fault.

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The winter sun was high-I should have been up hours ago. But for some reason I couldn't seem to find the strength to move my arms and legs. No medication was given for my injuries and so I lay, a skeleton of a boy at the age of eleven without a purpose in life.

Worst of all, it was my eleventh birthday... (13th December)Not that anyone cared... But to endure such physical extremities at such a tender age left me with no joy for celebration. My birthday was simply another reminder that I was growing old and that death was coming nearer to me.

A loud knock sounded on the door.

"Get up! Didn't you learn a lesson from yesterday's experience?"

Yes...It was the insensitive voice of Joe, calling as usual to do the gardening in the green house, from which we got our daily vegetables for consumption.

"Coming," I called out, before putting on a dirt stained T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

As I came out, two long fingers reached out and held me by the ear.

"Next time, don't wait till I come upstairs. Do you understand that boy?"

"Yes."

"Now let's get going! We can't afford you to get lazy."

I marched as hastily as possible, with deep intakes of breath, each painful as the next.

Snow covered the place everywhere and it looked like a dazzling world, different as if from another dimension.

"Go and clear out the weeds, boy," retorted Joe and pushed me into the Green house. There among the more innocent plants, I felt safe as baby huddled closed to a mother.

"Mother..." At the whisper of that word, hot tears began to form in my eyes again. All I wanted was a Mother to run to, to confide in and to love...But there was nothing. Nothing at all...

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To be continued... (Thanks for reviewing!) Stay tuned for Tom's enrollment in Hogwarts and his life in there...

PS: Thanks "Lucky Snitch!" It's wonderful to hear that honestly! The story will continue from different points of view along with Lord Voldemort's autobiography. Stay tuned and thanks once again to all of you!