A/N: Once again, hope you like it. Thank you to my lovely reviewers, all two of you. You made the sun shine in my head. Ta ta now.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters apart from my own. There. Happy?
Chapter 2
It was all round school on Monday, what I did at Lucy's. People kept staring at me, but no-one did anything because they all knew I burned her doll; no-one knows how. Only me. Lucy kept looking, but not like she used to. I don't mind. I don't need her. Don't need anyone.
The others in the home still aren't talking to me either. They follow Billy. I like it – not talking. Mostly because I made it stop. The words. I made them stop. Just by talking to a snake and burning a doll. I want to know what I could do if I did more. Would the words ever come back? Or would they stay silent forever – the way I want.
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I did it to Mr. Robinson at school today. Made the words stop. He was annoying me, making me angry. So I punished him. He sort of went green, and left the classroom. He didn't come back. We all went to lunch ten minutes early. I stayed on the playground, so everyone went on the field.
I don't know where he went; he couldn't do much out there. It was in the classroom. It was his own fault anyway. We were doing spellings. I hate spellings. He was going round the room and asking people the spellings we learned for homework. I knew all of them except 'diaphragm'. The 'f' was a 'ph' and the 'am' was 'agm'. It was a stupid word anyway. I knew all the others though; they were easy.
Mr. Robinson was going round the class, asking us all words. Jimmy got 'difficulty' and Peter got 'amazing'. When it was my turn, he looked at me and I knew he was going to give me diaphragm. Because he doesn't like me.
"Riddle, your word is 'diaphragm'. Spell it."
I tried. "D-I-A-P-H-"
"-Mm, yes."
"-R-A-M"
"No Mr. Riddle, the word is not 'diaphrRAM' it is 'diaphRAGM'. I can see you haven't learnt the list, therefore you have not done your homework. You shall write two hundred lines on the diaphragm and its uses."
I felt annoyed, "Sir, I did learn the words, just not diaphragm; it was hard."
"So just because it was hard, you don't have to learn it? Is that what you think? Are you different to everyone else boy, are you special? Do you not need to learn this list of words? I'll tell you what I think. I think you're insolent Riddle. And lazy. A lazy, insolent little boy, who should learn when to keep his mouth shut."
People giggled. I got angry then. Inside I was getting all hot but my voice was cold. "Should I? Really? I think it's you who needs to learn to hold your tongue."
People stopped giggling. Mr. Robinson went red, and stuttered. "Never….such insolence….in all my years-"
He never finished though, because he looked down at his hand; the chalk rubber had changed. He was holding a tongue. A big, red, dripping piece of meat. I told him to hold his tongue. So he did.
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I was only suspended. Not expelled. No-one could prove anything about the tongue, but somehow they all knew it was me. Maybe it was because I didn't scream. I was suspended for three weeks anyway, for rudeness. When I got home Mrs. Cole hit me again. I didn't care. I didn't have to go to school for three weeks. I hate that school; I don't learn anything. Anything useful, anyway. I don't need anyone teaching me anything; I have my powers and they're mine. I already know how to use them. They're mine.
I think I get them from my father. I must do. He must be some sort of rich, powerful person if he has powers like that. Living in a mansion somewhere. Or in jail. People can't handle power. That's why he couldn't stay, or save my mother. People were after him. They were, I know.
Sometimes I have this dream, where my mother's on the steps outside the orphanage, and my father's there, helping her up. There's this person chasing them, a man – sort of. He's skinny but he's powerful; he reminds me of a snake. I can't really see his face but I know he's trying to hurt them. My father shouts, 'Go, get up the steps, and get inside! I'll hold him off; don't let him get to you or the baby' (even though I wasn't born, I'm still the baby). Then I'm focused on my mother, I can't turn around but I always try. My eyes go all funny because I push them round so far that I can't see anything, just black. When I look back, my mother's unconscious. The man or his servants (powerful people always have servants) must have captured my father. My mother didn't have any powers. I know she didn't, because she died. My father couldn't help her. I'm always sweaty when I wake up and sometimes I have to change the sheets. But I don't cry. I never cry.
I want to find my father someday. He must be looking for me. Even with his powers, if he's in another country or in jail then he can't find me; I've got to find him. But I need to get stronger first; I want to be amazing when I meet my father.
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I hate Billy. Really hate him. I want him to die. Slowly, on fire. Or maybe drowning. Or stabbing; I could stab him with the bread knife in the kitchen. I'm still on washing up duty, I could get it. But I'd be in trouble if I killed him now; I'll wait. But I have to get him back. Now I mean. He can't get away with saying things like that to me.
I know how to get him. Billy. I saw him about an hour ago in the menagerie, with his rabbit, Lisa. His mother gave it to him; it's all he has. I'm going to kill it. With one of the dog's leashes, I'm going to hang his rabbit.
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I did it after dinner, when they'd all gone outside to play and I was doing the washing up. It was the easiest thing I've ever done. I took out his rabbit and tied the dog's leash around its neck. I thought it wasn't going to work then because I needed it to hang from the rafters to get the proper effect, to make Billy sorry. But I really wanted it, and I just sort of found myself on one of the beams, in the rafters. I don't remember getting there. But I did. I tied the rabbit up and let it hang; it was wiggling for ages. It went still in the end but it looked sort of peaceful, like it was sleeping. I broke its neck, twisted its head round. It ripped a bit and some blood came out and a bit of bone; it looked better.
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The words stopped again. After they found the rabbit. Billy cried for days. Serves him right though, shouldn't have said that to me. He knows who it was too - they all do. But they don't at the same time. That's the best bit; no-one can prove it was me, no-one knows. But they feel it; they can feel it was me. And they don't know how I did it. No-one's even looking at me anymore. I love it.
Dennis and Amy are though, they love Billy. And his rabbit. It was half theirs – they don't have any pets, so Billy let them have half between them. And I killed it. I think they hate me; I don't care. I really don't.
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My room was burned. Amy and Dennis did it. I know. I can feel it – it wasn't Billy. He's afraid of me now, he wouldn't dare.
It wasn't all burned. Only a corner, near my window. Mrs. Cole got in before it could get any bigger, and she poured water on it. She didn't even try to find out who did it; she didn't care. It was my room. I liked to sit on the window ledge. All black now.
They're just the same as Billy; they think they can get away with it. They can't. Not with me.
A/N: Sorry it wasn't very long, I just couldn't think of enough fillers! Also sorry if any of the words come out likethis, it happens sometimes when I upload; it's weird.Hope it borders on alright for you, and please tell me what you think. Please?