I sat pondering the last few centuries of my existence with my faithful companion Fawkes. I was always a survivor. From the day I was rather rudely thrown into the Dursley's home I recognized that I had absolutely no one in the world but myself.
So, observing my surroundings I quickly determined three facts. The first was that the Dursley's hated him and he hated them.
The second was that my relatives absolutely abhorred being "abnormal" and like any child genius I rubbed the fact that I was as abnormal as they come and threatened them quite frequently, as soon as I was able, that if they don't comply with my extravagant demands, a room and a healthy portion of food, I would show the whole bloody neighborhood that the Dursleys were freaks, further stressing my point with turning Tuney's neck pink with yellow polka dots and freezing Duddikens.
Alas, I still look back fondly at the memory of the Dursleys huddling behind the couch while I, Harry Potter, sat devouring their food.
….It all started when I was 4 and memories upon memories of Tom Riddle's first twenty years burst like a dam giving me a headache for days but upon my recovery, I had discovered that I was indeed a Wizard and through the memories and impressive mind of a young Dark Lord I practiced wandless magic and could successfully control my magic and bend it to my will.
And thus began my childhood, with three muggles accommodating to my every desire.
In retrospect, I should have simply imperio'd Petunia and the school Principal instead of having to go through school once again.
Tom always viewed education as his reprieve from the orphanage. As such, by the time he got his Hogwarts letter, he was already at high school level.
I blame my impatience.
I had thought if I successfully finish a few year early of schedule I would be free to pursue my Magical studies and the muggles would ignore me.
As I quickly breezed through the first 5 years of education, the muggles took notice of me. I was declared a child genius and gained a rather impressive amount of attention from the authorities. The Dursley's were praised for raising a child as smart as my own and for a small moment they seemingly ignored the fact that I was a wizard and happily ate praises for being upstanding members of the society.
Upon reaching the tender age of nine I was already a celebrity in the Muggle world and it was decided that I will join a University.
I couldn't let that happen. I have been building myself a steady reputation of a genius and while I certainly was one I wasn't of the caliber to finish education in five years.
Thankfully, my savior came in the form of a Dark Lord. By now I have thoroughly uncovered the Dark Lord past 70 years, turns out the Dark Lord was a fucking cheater. Sure he was smart and a great Wizard but he actually gained most of his knowledge by literally copying the minds of Masters of wizardry branches. It was a simple process that required a not so subtle legilemency so It would have to be done in private. The only drawback was that with magicals, the process could only be done once as the influx of magical energy that accompanies the knowledge could cause your magic to implode, the Dark Lord simply used a ritual that involved… unpleasent sacrifices. Up to this point I seriously considered continuing on his work of terrorizing muggles ,but I found that I simply lacked the motivation and I couldn't decide whether to thank him for his knowledge or curse him for killing my parents.
I decided to wait until my Fifth year counseling to decide my career choices.
So after wrangling the knowledge from dozens of University Professors, I remained unparalleled in my knowledge and the utmost genius in Great Britain.
All for the Glory of Lord Vold… Harry Potter!
Meeting with the Royal Family was an interesting experience. I squashed my more sociopathic instincts to imperio the Royal Family and claim the world under a banner of Pottery.
Apparently the Royal Family was aware of the existence of the magical community, I could sense with my superior senses that there were a couple of wizards in the service of protecting the Queen. That and they also asked me for an autograph from the boy-who-lived.
The Queen attempted to enlist my help into closing the gaps between the Magical and the Muggle community, due to my impressive achievements in both worlds and being a name that every child, man and woman knew in Europe by now
By now I have learned from the Muggles enough to know that they are dangerous, Way more dangerous than wizards. Due to my/tom's memories I realized that I couldn't actually rule by force and leading the Death Eaters wasn't fun, Tom originally started it as a fuck you to the pureblood wizards that tormented him back in school. It quickly evolved due to Dumbledore denying me the position of professor of the Dark Arts, or rather the Defense against it.
During mine.. tom's? interview I tried to impress my worth as a professor by proving my immense knowledge of Dark Arts and even creating a horcrux which I was going to show him to further impress and assure him that I knew what I was going to teach… against. Know thy enemy and all that nonsense.
Offended and refused I cursed the DADA position so that no one could hold it for more than a year and stormed out of the castle. A little childish I agree but what do you expect from a child raised at an orphanage? All in all, I was a pretty sore loser.
The situation quickly escalated from that point. I legitimized my movement, enjoyed lording over the same assholes that tormented me in the past, crucio'ed anyone who dared disagree with me, commissioned stylish uniforms, Creating a tattoo that practically announced to the world of our members probably wasn't the best idea in our first years but I was drunk on power and grief.
So, I considered my options. I was still an orphan, people looked up to me. If I couldn't take my place over the world as a Dark Lord, perhaps I could topple Dumbledore as a Light Lord and replace him, destroying the legacy he strived to build and build it myself as the Greatest Wizard in the World.
As I said Tom was a sore loser, and so was I.
The fact that I would enter the Political arena in the Wizarding World endorsed by the Monarch as well and that I wouldn't lose everything I built in the Muggle world was the deal breaker. I struggled too hard to build myself a reputation as one of the brightest minds in the worlds and even as a kid my influence was vast and wide.
I stroked the parchment of my Hogwarts letter with fondness, I still haven't figured out what I would do in the next 7 years. Would I spend them at Hogwarts while I could do better things to usurp Dumbledore and cement my power base in the ministry? Still too many factors to consider.
My knowledge of magic was unparalleled, even Dumbledore the old fool only managed to duel me because of the blasted Elder Wand. I was not going to spend my next couple of years learning how to transfigure matchsticks into needles and floating feathers. I had to build my political base.
Visiting Diagon Alley brought back memories. I still remember the first time I visited the alley. I stubbornly refused Dumbledore accompanying me to Diagon Alley the first time, even as a child I was an excellent judge of character. I hated him from the first meeting.
I mean seriously, who burns an orphan who struggled his whole life and was an outcast who relied on his power. Was he trying to prove a point? That more than everything made me strive to prove myself more powerful than him.
The rush of ecstasy and superiority was still the same as first time.
I effortlessly blended in the busy alley and it took all my willpower not to jump like a child. While I could use magic to an extent to remind the Dursley's who was the boss, I was significantly weaker without a wand, so being able to acquire a wand once more was something I really looked for.
While I would've loved to have my old yew wand, I couldn't actually get it without alerting Dumbledore that someone has crossed Godric's Hollow premises. Nevermind that the place contained sad memories for both sides of my person. As Lord Voldemort, there was my downfall.. and as Harry Potter there was the place I lost my family.
I entered the shop with a sense of trepidation wondering what my new wand would be. Perhaps another yew wand but this time with a basilisk fang, or perhaps a tree made of the legendary tree Yggdrasil with an essence of a dementor as a core. I could only wonder.
Ollivander is still as creepy as I can remember 60 years ago.
"Mr. Ollivander, I presume?" I asked the pale elderly man.
"Indeed, Mr. Potter I have thought that I would see you here soon" The man murmured.
What sort of a reaction should an 11 year old kid say to that? I quashed the urge to scream pedophile as I assumed normal kids don't jump to that conclusion so soon.
As my face contorted through multiple different emotions while I couldn't decide on what reaction to show, the man showed pity on me and chattered inanely to himself about my father's and mother's wands and a brief – completely wrong – explanation about wandlore. I mean seriously who believes that there are only 3 different types of core for all wands?
I began wondering whether I should've just gone to Gregorovitch for a different experience or even better, craft my own wand when the man interrupted me from my musing.
"Please try this one Mr. Potter." He said while handing me a rather plain wand.
"No, not this one" He snatched it quickly.
The following three hours were the most boring hours of my life, and I've had dinner with Abraxas Malfoy all while speaking of how wonderful his clone, son, Lucius was. So trust me, I knew boring.
An unsettling glint appeared in his eyes. Mumbling to his self, and looking to me with a mixture of curiosity, pity and anxiousness. I was half way through the door to report that blasted pedophile to the Aurors when he handed me a Holly wand.
At least the other wands I could feel some spark in it, its hard to describe it but for a person who studied extensively wandlore, there is some of sort quasi-sentience in the wand with a spark of life.
This one was absolutely silent.
The man stood silently perfectly imitating a fish for a moment until he regained his bearings and began muttering something about brother wands… Dumbledore… Fawkes.. Destiny and a whole lot of gibberish, He then snatched it out of my hand furiously and looked at me accusingly as if it was I who was the problem and not because he is such an incompetent dunderhead.
After about 10 minutes of silent handing wands and snatching them back I was interrupted from the rhythm by a warm feeling and multi-colored sparks emitting from my wand.
Finally, victory. As I looked slowly from my book and towards my wand I couldn't help but glance over Ollivander's gaze and was that… disappointment in his eyes? I finally looked at my wand and gasped.
Made of 7 & 1/4 inches of Rosewood and a bloody fucking Unicorn Hair.
I could've seriously lost now and then and started throwing around crucio's if it wasn't for the fact that I was a master occulemens.
I was Lord Voldemort… or Harry Potter.
The point was that my wand should've been something that striked fear in the heart of my enemies as they see it pointed at them. Not laugh because a pink tinted wooded was staring at them, and was that flowers tracing on the wand? Nevertheless, perhaps the Unicorn Hair was from the first Unicorn and was so temperamental that only I could control it.
But that didn't explain Ollivander's dispassionately intoning that it was 7 galleons and if I needed a holster perhaps?
No warnings, no omens of greatness, no interest… absolutely nothing.
"Thank you" I said, forcing the fakest smile barely restricting my eyes from turning red and lashing out in anger.
I had discovered while chatting with the hat that I wasn't , in fact, schizophrenic nor was I Harry Potter sharing the body with Lord Voldemort. Rather, I was Tom Riddle reborn as Harry Potter, with my malicousness and general evilness tempered by the pure soul of baby Harry. I was now Tom Piddle, or Harry Rotter.
I quickly disregarded Slytherin and Gryffindor. If I am to start a new world under my banner I can't align myself with the extreme dark or light factions so early.
Even my sorting remains one of the most unique in the history of Hogwarts
"Well you're going to have to go somewhere!" the Hat snapped.
This all started due to blocking my mind from that old hat's nose? Cloth? I quickly explained my World Domination plan and that yes, I understand that this ambition is worthy of going to Slytherin. No I won't go to Slytherin because it will alienate me from the other factions.
So we were stuck between one of the hardest choices in my life.
Puffers or Bookworms.
While the smart choice would be going to Ravenclaw as Puffers were automatically degraded as Stupid, Ambitionless Cowards. I remain apprehensive of going there. I was going to completely dominate the Wizarding Curriculum and strive to prove myself above them in each lesson. I had no inclination to deal with whiny bitching ravens. I would practically become their Messiah, Rowena Ravenclaw reborn, they ravens would "badger" me with questions everywhere I go and I needed somewhere to relax.
The hat interrupted my delicate and analytical musings, "Dumbledore, a galleon if you don't mind."
Dumbledore, being the manipulative old bastard he is, hadn't changed his expression at all nor shown any surprise toward the question, while all students and teachers murmured amongst each other.
" Dragon for Ravenclaw and Merlin for Hufflepuff? " The hat asked.
I shrugged vaguely.
The miserable sods broke out in clapping at having THE Harry Potter in their house, as if it was the greatest event in their house since its founding. A not inaccurate belief.
I was going to be the smartest, sneakiest, and bravest I suppose.. puffer in the history of puffers. Their loyalty was truly endearing. I would have had a much easier time starting the Death eaters and probably conquer the World if my power base was made of Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin.
It seems that the Hufflepuffs are every bit as annoying as the Ravenclaws. Apparently I was the leader of the first year puffs. Unacceptable, my Influence would reach through every corner of Helga's puff, perhaps I should mark my own followers..
But seriously, I don't mind groveling but for a stranger to try and touch me? No, I don't need your quill my trust vault is probably worth all your family's body parts in potions ingredients. Yes, I do have ink what did you think I would write with, blood of my enemies? No, I don't actually remember killing the dark lord 10 years ago, do you remember breastfeeding you snot-nosed brat? No, unfortunately scars don't work that way.
After a few days thankfully, the questions stopped but I gained a new self-imposed nemesis in a form of a buck toothed frizzy brown creature. Apparently Miss Granger strived to be as good as me in the muggle world and couldn't, of course, so once again she thought she was something special when she found out she was a witch and again got her black bookish heart broken by my superiority over her in every aspect. It was nothing personal, I was just better than everybody.
She constantly tried to best me at every moment and cried at every class when I got every. Single. Spell. Better.
Her – and my- reprieve from failure and boredom came from a seemingly innocent Dumbledore that was amenable to my transfer to a higher grade if I wasn't struggling with the curriculum and seemingly learning nothing.
After much thinking on the matter I determined that I should jump ahead as to keep my Image of a Prodigy who could do nothing wrong in the eyes of the society. I only answered correctly the 1st and 2nd year examinations and made myself fail in the 3rd year exams. I had nothing to lose, and an 11 year old, even though I looked older, in higher than 3rd year was a bit ridiculous if I had to say so. As I was my usual show-off self, I took every single elective while I actually attending only Arithmany and Ancient Runes.
The year passed peacefully. I mean I was a Hufflepuff, no matter how famous, so I was practically friendly with everybody, Slytherins built connections with me due to my standing and family wealth, Ravencalws seeked my advanced knowledge, Gryffindors just loved associating with a light paragon such as myself and the Hufflepuffs were already shaping up to my cult. I had no real "friends" to note .
Hufflepuff won the House Cup, mainly due to my superior presence amongst them. I basked in the glory and maintained my manners and smiled patiently and politely and let the sheep cheer in an absolutely barbaric manner, apparently Hufflepuff hasn't won the House Cup since 1783. If I knew how pathetic they were I would've had second doubts, but I found that taking an absolutely pitiful thing from the beginning and re-moulding it and shape it to greatness was for exciting than being a member of the Elite House of Slytherin for example.
I got O's in every single subject, Even History Of Magic, and was rewarded with a year supply of Honeydukes Chocolate. Apparently this was the first time anyone got straight O's in his third year since Albus Dumbledore in 1904. I thought it should be noted that I skipped 2 years and got straight O's while taking all my electives but alas, I don't control the press.
I re-joined the Muggle world briefly in the Summer and I now am the only 12 year old that has 5 PhDs in the World. I couldn't actually let the people forget me. While I would've loved to watch the Dursley's squirm while I live with them. I couldn't actually as even with training I barely tolerated them. So I rented an apartment in Diagon Alley and began my endeavor in finding a Media Representive who could provide Propaganda for the Magical Community and so I could actually control what was being written of me.
Turns out I owned 37.6% of the Daily Prophet with the combined shares of The Potter-Black accounts, after 'donating' a sizable amount to the Prophet so they could expand. I found my vision in the form of a Blonde, Green insect with an almost hungry gaze in her eyes.
Rita Skeeter was everything I imagined her to be , sweet when she wanted to, influential, and could spin a tale of my AK'ing someone to a tragic incident where the Boy-Who-Lived saved the world again.
She was perfect!
With a bit of flattery, charm and a monthly 2,000 galleons contract signed with a blood quill at Gringotts, Rita Skeeter was my Exclusive Editor. She even wanted to start having talks of a book and I admit I was highly intrigued, for some reason no editor wanted to write my Autobiography as a Dark Lord so I relished the opportunity but decided to delay it a bit until I entered the Political Arena.
I admit I was surprised when I found the same dunderhead that taught us DADA last year teaching us this year, I thought my curse was still in effect. Turns out that the moment I, or rather my past self died the curse was lifted.
This was worrying.
A thousand question began to flow around my head, did that mean my horcruxes failed? What was my mortality status right now?
I quickly checked my closest Horcrux in the Room of Requirment and found out that that my soul piece was gone. I didn't understand. Did they pass onto the afterlife or were they merged back with me? I had an inkling that Horcruxes didn't actually work. I mean where were the thousands of Egyptians Pharaohs and Wizards how split their souls? Where was Herpo the Foul? After all the atrocities I did and the mental damage I suffered from splitting my soul and in the end it was useless?
I decided to not waste any more heirlooms and since my piece soul has seemingly gone poof from the diadem I would present the Diadem lost to the centuries to the Headmaster and earn even more praise for recovering such a precious artificat. All Hail Lord Voldemort.
I quickly thought about it and determined that without my OWLs everything was on standby. I couldn't even open a project, invest with my accounts or enter Wizengamot sessions. So unsurprisingly, I took yet another Placement test and found myself sitting with the 5th years and Dumbledore smiling a proud smile at me and… was that a tear in McGonnagal's Eyes? Probably bemoaning the fact that the smartest girl in her Gryffindorks' couldn't hold a candle to the glory of the badgers.
Oh gods, I am starting to think like a puff.
I had a new stalker in the form of a 11 year old red-haired brat, who apparently thought that we were to be married because her mother told her so. Apparently she was a Weasley, I decided to stay the hell away from them, they were probably after my family's money. The most notable thing during that year was finding my chronicles –not diary- in the bag of the little weaslette.
I didn't know what to make of the situation. Here was a girl who stalked me through my classes and had my old self's chronicles in her bag. I automatically became on guard and even contemplated scanning her mind to find her intentions but found myself afraid of the consequences and assumptions she would make if our eyes meet.
I refrained in the end.
Once again, I won the House Cup for my loyal followers who were becoming month after month more smug and even standing proudly amongst Slytherins and Gryffindors.
I breezed through the exams and maintained my rather impressive following in Hufflepuff. While I remained friendless I had contacts with almost every important person in our community by now. Be it the owner of the biggest Potions Apothecary in the UK or the head of a lousy department. I knew each and every single one of them. Rita also manages to provide me with information that is known to no one else. She had dirt on almost everybody, coupled with the Black Book by Cassiopia Black I found in the Black Vault. We could blackmail almost anyone in the Wizarding World.
I was congratulated by the Minister, The Chief Warlock (Dumbledore), The Supreme Mugwump (Also Dumbledore) , the headmaster (Surprisingly, Dumbledore) and Bathilda Bagshot for receiving 12 O's in my Owls and the highest grades since Albus Dumbledore in 1909. In an article that showed me as charismatic, intelligent and charming and completely overshadowing Dumbledore by Rita Skeeter. I was greeted by almost everybody in the Alley and by the end of the Summer I became a common face always there for everybody and everyone from the deepest slums in Knockturn Alley to The Leaky Cauldron bragged that they knew me "personally" to their friend.
While not an impressive achievement for a 70 year old Dark Lord, I relished in the attention and praise from every corner of the wizarding world as a 13 year old teenager.
But enough of that. For my greatest achievements and eventual ascension to the top of the Wizarding World truly began in my 6th year.
AN/: I would like to point out that I was actually influenced in my writing by a few fanfictions and this is the first time I ever try to write something like this. Please point out to me any consistent Grammar mistakes so I could make sure not to repeat them and reviewing is appreciated
AN2/:Just one more chapter in the HP world then we can move to ASOIAF world. I just want to build a solid non-canon base so I could rely on it further along the story. All suggestions are appreciated.