Why I pity Voldemort
I do not own Voldemort or any other characters you may know from the books.
It is my belief that Voldemort is not as bad as he seems. He is to be pitied for many reasons of his unhappy life and I felt it is best to start from the very beginning.
"Mr Riddle, sir," said the Doctor looking at his toes. "We have some good news and some bad news"
Mr Riddle held his breath. What had gone wrong? Did Amelia take it that badly? I have had her child and walked away from her. And what if it's one of them?
Mr Riddle stuttered, unable for words.
"I think you'd better come with me sir," said the Doctor.
He walked Mr Riddle to a nursery ward window where a child with a purple tag around his wrist lies sleeping.
"That is your child Mr Riddle. She named him Tom, after you"
Mr Riddle gazed at the baby. He knew he should feel some love for the child, but it was just too abnormal, too different.
"Where is she?" Mr Riddle asked the unavoidable question.
"Well…err…there was an accident" replied the doctor
Mr Riddle paled, "What, What happened?"
The Doctor decided to get this over and done with.
"She experienced a birth complication and died" the Doctor said quickly.
Tom knew what the orphanage thought about him, how he didn't belong. He was different, even he knew that.
He was smart, cleverer that the other children, but the also had this talent for getting in trouble when he was only protecting himself.
Like when he was 8 and being bullied, he closed his eyes and when he opened them all the children were on the floor out cold.
He had no idea why the social worker couldn't find him a home. When he was little he asked them each and every day.
"Have you found me a new mummy yet?"
"No Tom, go to your room.
"When will I be at a home?"
"You are at home Tom."
By the time he was 9 he knew that no one would adopt him.
He was the oldest child at the orphanage. He had lost all hope by then.
It was nearing his 10th birthday.
The social workers tried to be nice to him.
"Do you want to go out to your birthday Tom?"
"Where do you want to go for your birthday Tom?"
But then he had become antisocial. He wasn't like the other kids. In his mind they were the 'M' people. They were mean.
He wouldn't say what he wanted for his birthday or where he wanted to go so they chose for him.
They were at the MacDonald's fun room and the birthday boy wasn't having fun.
"Tom, do you want to go on the slide?" asked the care worker.