Destroying Myself

Prologue

Everything I have worked towards, everything I have been dreaming of, is about to come true. Finally, after two years of incessant, unabashed obsession, I have finally created the spell. I will prove to everyone that I am important; I will prove to him that I am not a useless bastard.

All this happens tomorrow evening, Halloween; of course, it has to be Halloween: the most magical day of the wizarding world; when the sun has set and the moon is high in the sky, I will do the spell.

I won't be able to concentrate in classes today; I won't be able to sleep tonight, because it's happening tomorrow. Tomorrow I travel through time and space, and I will witness what no one has ever seen before, my own future.

"Tom," someone calls my name.

I look up and realize that I am in Ancient Runes and Professor Harland is talking to me. I have no idea what he asked; in fact, I couldn't care less.

"Yes, Professor?" I say, focusing my attention.

"I asked you to pay attention, Mr. Riddle," Professor Harland says.

He's short, balding, and wears huge glasses that magnify his eyes.

"Right," I say, and pretend to pay attention.

He goes back to teaching, and my thoughts trail off again.

Dumbledore has been watching me like a bloody hawk, day after day; he does not trust me, and like a fool, he sticks his nose into my business. Dumbledore, unlike anyone else, dislikes me, and I know why: he's afraid of me.

That's a laughable statement. The only people who should fear me are the ones that get in my way, the ones that ruin my plans. All Dumbledore has done so far is stand back and watch me idly from the sidelines.

Someone taps my shoulder, and I look over to see a pretty little blonde girl, all bright eyes and cherry lipstick.

"Tom," she says.

I realize everyone is packing up and leaving; the class is over.

"Yeah?" I say. I cannot remember her name, but I'm pretty sure she's the one who's been bugging me to go to a dance with her for the past year.

"Are you going to the Halloween dance tomorrow night?" she asks, her eyes pleading.

"No," I say. "I'm busy."

"You're always busy," she coos. "Take a night off."

"Can't," I say.

I stand up and start to leave.

"Do you even remember my name?" the girl asks.

I pause and turn to face her.

"Does it start with an m?" I ask, deciding to play her games.

She looks hurt, but I really don't have time for this.

She shakes her head, "It's Brandy."

"Well, Brandy," I say, and there is a chilling tone to my voice. "Maybe some other time, yeah?"

I do walk away this time, before she can say anything else to me. I don't have time for dates, no time for social plans; I had to find out about the real me, the me that was all powerful.

Nothing, not even Dumbledore was going to stop me tomorrow evening.