Dear Diary

My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, or Spawn of Satan, or Son of a Whore as the others at the orphanage call me. They have always been jealous of me. Jealous because I knew more about my family than any of them, though it was never enough for me. They were jealous for another reason as well. I also had an ability that in their ignorance the others termed magic.

It turned out to be the one time they were right. On my eleventh birthday, a letter arrived at the orphanage for me. I was receiving my own special birthday beating. They had learned that while I could stop them singly with my 'tricks', I did not have enough focus to stop a large group.

I never dared show my 'tricks' to Travis, the Head of the orphanage. He already had us slaving away in the factories, for cash he pocketed, six days a week. Who knew what the man would do if he thought I could do magic for him.

Travis threw the letter at me, standing bloodied in the midst of some of the older boys who were administering their 'birthday punches'. How I'd wished they'd never found out the date of my entrance into this world.

I was able to grasp the letter before Travis left. The boys closed in again once he was gone, but I closed my eyes and wished as hard as possible that they would leave me alone. I tasted blood, and realised I had bitten into my tongue. The boys were strangely silent and they have yet to bother, or even notice me since. This was my first taste of the power of blood magic. Even before I came here to Hogwarts, I obtained books on the subject and I will continue my education here in secret since some foolish wizards deem it Dark Arts.

If Travis had been able to read better, he would have understood just how odd the letter was. The strange lettering. The shimmering green ink. The obvious reference to witchcraft.

I had to teach myself to read. I would steal old newspapers from the bins outside the factories and pour over them whenever possible. That was another reason the others were jealous of me. I always tried to improve myself, while they waited in the hopes that some rich idiots would come and pull them up from the squalor.

When I was very young, I used to hope that my mother would come. I soon learnt she was dead with my only living relative being my filthy muggle father. A father who never came, and probably laughed at my desperate letters in their childish scrawl.

The year before I received my letter, I ran away from the orphanage. I ate sewage in the streets and only narrowly avoided the perverts, all to reach a large house in Little Hangleton. I pounded on the gate for hours, even saw my father drive up. He never looked at me, though the old lady in the car stared and stared before burying her face in a handkerchief. But I know what he looks like now, this man who made me an orphan. He will regret passing me by.

The rest of my introduction is simple. My Hogwarts letter had an additional note that described a vault keyed to me with money for my education. I spent frugally, with my only expense being the Dark Arts books I mentioned before. The rest I used to pay off Travis when the time came to leave.

And so I came to another type of orphanage - Hogwarts. I was sorted into Slytherin and it is a proper house, no matter what those idiotic Gryffindors say. Despite their pure-blood upbringing, I know more of magic then my classmates.

It is only my first week at Hogwarts. I lie on my bed, ignoring and being ignored in turn. That won't last for long. I won't have them treating me like they do at the orphanage. This time, I will lead the gang.

I keep finding my eyes drawn towards the serpent inscribed above our fireplace. I suppose it would sound silly to say that my destiny seems to lie with this symbol. But something is calling, no hissing at me.

I think I might continue with this diary, at least for a little while. Who knows what use I might find for it in the years to come?

Tom Marvolo Riddle