O1. Hungry for Power (Series Pt. III)

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A young wizard stood across a large tombstone, both feet crunching a set of dying flowers. The rain wasn't as visible as it got darker and Little Hangleton greeted a new night. Below the wizard's feet stood the remains of Tom Riddle, who had been so coldly murdered by his own son.

"I will not end up like yourself," he clenched his fists, his dark coat now completely drenched in water from the rain. "A muggle ... a fool ... dead."

The deaths of the Riddle family greatly shocked the other denizens of the small town, despite the fact that most of the villagers resented the Riddles for their arrogance and wealth

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The deaths of the Riddle family greatly shocked the other denizens of the small town, despite the fact that most of the villagers resented the Riddles for their arrogance and wealth.

"I will not carry your name as I rise to power and shall not be associated with scum," he spat, the veins at the side of his pale neck protruding with anger and disgust. It had been a long day, perhaps the longest - he had lost Hogwarts, the only place he felt like he could be himself and be the best - the very best. He was bitter. He wanted revenge. 

"There will be one and only one wizard who shall be feared by all species, be they wizards or not, and every single one of them shall fear me so much -- they won't dare utter my name."

The wizard breathed, puffs of condensation leaving his mouth and entangling with the chilly air and disappearing within the water pouring down on him. He twirled the ring on his finger, a small, satisfied grin growing on his lips.

"Voldemort."

With that, he apparated, and in a blink of an eye he was back to the place he detested the most – Wool's Orphanage. Since the orphanage staff knew nothing about his mother, they did not know about his magical background or what even was going on in the magical word. Instead, they believed that Merope, Riddle's mother, was a circus worker – which, in their minds, explained Tom's odd behavior and personality.

He sat on the old dusty mattress in his room, the springs cackling upon the new added weight, and he stood there, deep in thought. His mind flew back to recent events: the destruction of Hogwarts, his battle with Grindelwald, Dumbledore's death - he grimaced "That old fool. How weak ..."

"

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⏰ Last updated: Oct 24, 2021 ⏰

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