Tomarry One Shots

| Harry Potter and his ability to fuck up Dumbledore's plans pt. 2

Voldemort's POV

Voldemort has been alive for a long time, not long like Dumbledore the fool or Flamel the alchemist. He doesn't mean long in the sense of age, he means long in the sense of time past. Many may think they mean the same thing, Voldemort would disagree.

Many feel the fluctuations of time, it's longer when your bored and faster when your having fun. And for Voldemort time has always been long and tedious. Being raised in an orphanage, different from the other children. He knew that he was better than them, better than all of them. They didn't see it that way however, they saw him as a freak, vermin. Something to hate, despise, abuse.

His years living in the orphanage were long and grueling. And then he finally got an answer as to why he was better than other people. He was a wizard, he could do magic. He got given a letter by a professor, his invitation to Hogwarts. He was ecstatic but dubious. Magic was real? He needed proof, so he'd asked for some and the professor set his wardrobe on fire and just like that his standing in the orphanage was ruined.

"We don't want thieves at Hogwarts Tom." Professor Dumbledore had said.

It wasn't thievery. Voldemort wasn't a thief, he was a survivor. He'd taken what he could out of self preservation and now it was all gone, destroyed along with everything he'd ever owned. Everything that was his. That was the moment, in retrospect, that Voldemort stopped caring.

His life after that was worse than previous, he had nothing so everyone around him assumed they could take everything. After getting his Hogwarts supplies, he had his first exorcism. The first of many. But it hadn't mattered at the time, he'd go to school, make allies maybe even friends and he'd thrive.

He'd gotten sorted slytherin which while perfect for him as an individual was not perfect for him a whole. He'd been raised a muggle with no knowledge of magic and those in his house took advantage of that. They'd sneer and curse and hex him. They'd make fun of his dirty blood and look down their noses at him. His first few years at Hogwarts had been long.

So he'd done what he's always done best. He'd learnt, he'd learnt everything he could get his hands on, he'd become the best of the best. His teachers loved him and because they loved him they'd given him points. The points meant they won the house cup and he'd earned the right to be left alone by his peers.

But Voldemort hadn't wanted to be left alone, not anymore, he'd wanted power, power and respect. He'd wanted to be the best to have everyone that had ever looked down at him to kneel and grovel. But to do that he'd needed to be smart and careful. So he'd started small, he'd learnt quickly who had the most power and their beliefs.

It had been easy after that to integrate himself and slowly rise up like a phoenix from the ashes. And finally time started moving quickly, too quickly.

His time at school started passing by in a flash and then he was left having to go back to the orphanage, to London, to the bombs being dropped from planes and the knowledge that he could do nothing to stop himself from being killed because underage magic wasn't allowed unless you were a pureblood.

He'd lost count of the amount of exorcisms he'd gone through, throughout his school years. He'd lost count of every time the buildings shook as bombs dropped, of how many times he'd asked and begged and pleaded professor Dumbledore or headmaster Dippet to let him stay for the summer.

Once his school years were finished and he'd passed his exams with flying colours he'd tried to join the ministry, tried to take up his lordship but each time he was barred and looked down on again and again. He knew who's doing it was. Dumbledore is a great many things but subtle isn't one of them.