A/N: As the goal of this fic is to do role reversal but keep them in-character, I have some flashback scenes I will be putting in occasionally.
Tom Riddle's Journal, age 9
My therapist asked me what I defined as friendship. I honestly didn't know what to say, as I'd never wanted friends so I hadn't thought about it. It seemed rather pointless. Honestly, the whole thing seems so silly. You deal with people and do things for them in order for you to hope they do things back for you? I am perfectly capable of doing everything myself.
I don't think my answer pleased her, and I know it would upset my parents. But unlike them, Helen remained calm and professional. I like that she doesn't show her reactions to what I say. I tried to explain to her that my time is valuable.
"Friendship isn't selfless," I told her. I've been thinking about this for a long time. "No one just likes people just for them-it's based on giving and taking. It's like hedonistic calculus in philosophy. If people give too much, they're suckers. If they take too much, they're selfish. Both causes you to lose friends. So why does it seem I'm emotionally lacking if I don't engage in such behaviors?"
I can read thoughts, sometimes. They hit me sometimes out of the blue-I've been trying to perfect the technique to do more mind reading but it's still hit or miss. I "heard," however, that she was impressed with my brilliance and clearly the genius level intelligence I scored is well-deserved. I want to scoff-of course I'm brilliant, but even a monkey can parrot a book they'd read. Quoting philosophy is not that impressive.
Of course, however, is the assumption on her end that I display "lack of empathy" and "social disengagement." It's not wrong, probably, but I hate the stigma associated with it, as if I'm going to become the next Hitler-even if Helen didn't think that, it'll eventually come up in her head at some point.
My parents talked to her about it, I think. They have always been concerned at my lack of social interaction. Helen says she talks to them that I feel and interact differently with people, but they don't really get it. I wish we'd actually discussed something important, like where I'm going to go for secondary school or that I haven't been progressing in being able to do magic.
Helen nor my parents know what to make of me being able to do magic. Undoubtedly, I'm special—perhaps like Matilda, I'm such an intense genius that I can will things to do what I want. Helen knows I can do it, as I made her pen float one time to prove it. When that wasn't enough, I made the parakeets in her office dance in unison.
I like her because she doesn't ignore my magic like my parents and tries to talk to me about it. She wasn't afraid of it, though she asked me not to control her birds.