All Roads Lead to Rome, a harry potter fanfic

All Roads Lead to Rome

Summary: In the end, it didn't really matter what road he took. Tom Riddle's destiny was, is and will always be in the form of Lord Voldemort.

A/N:Argh. Attack of the plot bunnies. Something I threw together on a whim. Hopefully it interests people. ;D

Edit: September 28, 2012 - there were some wording issues and some typos in this story I just had to clean up. Hopefully, it reads much smoother now. (:

Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the Harry Potter series. This little oneshot is merely for fun. Parts of this is quoted directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and I don't own that anymore than I do the entire series, which is to say, no.

You sit on the train, looking out the window because you're not quite sure what else to do. There's a strange feeling in your chest, you're not quite sure whether to feel happy or excited or maybe even apprehensive. Outside, the rain is falling in little pitter patters.

Suddenly, the compartment door opens, startling you out of your reverie. A boy walks in and you think he's your age.

It's silent in the train car as your eyes track the boy's movements.

You turn your head, not really interested anymore. A cough comes from somewhere to your left and you see the boy seated there, staring at you expectantly. You frown slightly and not knowing what else to do, introduce yourself with a hand outstretched in welcome.

"I'm Tom Riddle."

The boy doesn't take it.

Instead, his lip curls in a sneer and he utters the one word that would change your life forever.

"Mudblood"

You gape. Not quite sure what the word means but still, you know it's derogatory. You feel red slowly creep into your vision as quite suddenly, your views of this perfect world are shattered. A righteous anger fills you as you hotly stand up and glare at the offending child.

Nobody as the right to call anyone such a word, no matter what it means.

You gape. Not quite sure what the word means but still, you know it's derogatory. You feel yourself start to tremble as you duck your head in shame. Whatever the word means, it must be bad. You vow to yourself that never again will you allow anyone to call you that; you'll make sure of it.

It's not fair, you realize. Nothing's fair anymore.

You gape. Not quite sure what the word means but still, you know it's derogatory. And suddenly, you're filled with a hunger to know what the word means. You need to know what this child has so guilelessly called you.

Knowledge is power and you will have the power to crush this fool beneath you.

You gape. Not quite sure what the word means but still, you know it's derogatory. Your eyes narrow as you struggle to not show weakness in front of this boy. You treat him with a cool gaze, determined not to let him cow you to submission.

You won't let anybody walk all over you, you'll be the best.

When the train slides into the station, you walk briskly away from the child, not liking his presence. Following some other classmates, you tumble into the boats. You can barely keep the awed look off your face when you see the castle, but you manage.

When it's time for you to be sorted, you tentatively walk up to the hat and squeeze your eyes shut as it slides over your head.

'Hmm, interesting,' the hat whispers in your ear. 'Interesting indeed.'

You frown. 'Interesting?' you think curious as to what the hat meant.

'Yes, a very strong mind. You're willing to fight for what you believe in,' the hat murmurs.

'I don't believe in anyone anymore,' you think, harsh curtains closing upon your thoughts.

The hat seems to frown though you're certain that was impossible. 'Yes, you need to heal. You need to learn. I think,' it whispers, elated, 'that you have the potential to fight with all your courage. Better be

GRYFFINDOR!' the hat shouts.

You grin as you set the hat back down on the stool and walk towards the cheering table decorated with scarlet and gold. Maybe the hat was right, maybe you would heal this way.

'Hmm, interesting,' the hat whispers in your ear. 'Interesting indeed.'

You frown. 'Interesting?' you think curious as to what the hat meant.

'Yes, a very strong mind. Not afraid of hard work, huh?' the hat chuckles.

You grimace. 'I don't have much room to complain,' you think, expression slightly pained.

The hat seems to frown though you're certain that was impossible. 'Yes, you've been through too much. You don't trust easily. I think though,' it whispers, elated, 'that trust will come to you stronger than anyone else. Better be

HUFFLEPUFF!' the hat shouts.

You grin as you set the hat back down on the stool and walk towards the cheering table decorated with black and yellow. Maybe the hat was right, either way you weren't afraid to work to make it happen.

'Hmm, interesting,' the hat whispers in your ear. 'Interesting indeed.'

You frown. 'Interesting?' you think curious as to what the hat meant.

'Yes, a very strong mind. Intelligent,' the hat mumbles.

'I need to know things,' you think. 'Otherwise people will think I'm stupid.'

The hat seems to frown though you're certain that was impossible. 'Yes, "knowledge is power", isn't it?' it whispers, repeating your philosophy. 'You're a smart one, sharp minded. Better be

RAVENCLAW!' the hat shouts.

You grin as you set the hat back down on the stool and walk towards the cheering table decorated with blue and bronze. Knowledge was everything and this was the house you would get it in.

'Hmm, interesting,' the hat whispers in your ear. 'Interesting indeed.'

You frown. 'Interesting?' you think curious as to what the hat meant.

'Yes, a very strong mind. Nobody really knows who you are, do they?' the hat murmurs.

'I can't let them know. They'd take advantage of me,' you think, wrinkling your brow.

The hat seems to frown though you're certain that was impossible. 'So instead you take advantage of them. I see. You have a very calculating mind, Mr. Riddle,' the hat whispers. 'In that case, better be

SLYTHERIN!' the hat shouts.

You grin as you set the hat back down on the stool and walk towards the cheering table decorated with green and silver. Maybe the hat was right about you, but that didn't mean manipulating others was a bad thing.

The next few days are spent in peace. You quickly fit into your house, befriending anyone you can find. Connections, you realize mean power and you need that power.

Because how else would a lowly muggleborn go through all 7 years of school? How would you survive?

Still, you suspect you're special, not just someone tainted with filthy muggle blood. The teachers all call you a prodigy and you are the top of your house. Top of your class even. The only professor that doesn't look upon you with smiling eyes and a warm look is Dumbledore. It doesn't bother you; soon, you'll be strong enough to take even that great wizard down.

You beam as you earn another 10 points for your house. Everywhere, people are smiling at you, laughing with you.

"Excellent as usual, Mr. Riddle," you hear and at that, you shake your head, accepting the praise. A rush of adrenaline is in your heart and you feel elation. Is this was it was like? Rushing into the heat of things?

A sudden epiphany hits you; Gryffindor, you think, is the perfect house for you.

You beam as you earn another 10 points for your house. Everywhere, people are smiling at you, laughing with you.

"Excellent as usual, Mr. Riddle," you hear and at that, a genuine smile comes onto your face. You deserve it, you think, as you drink in the adoration of the fools that surround you. Are you the only one who actually does work here?

A sudden epiphany hits you; Hufflepuff, you think, is the perfect house for you.

You beam as you earn another 10 points for your house. Everywhere, people are smiling at you, laughing with you.

"Excellent as usual, Mr. Riddle," you hear and you smile slightly and turn your head away. Is this all they're congratulating you for? Could these simpletons not see that it was pure knowledge and not the house points you were after?

You smile; Ravenclaw is indeed the perfect house for you. But of course, you've always known that.

You beam as you earn another 10 points for your house. Everywhere, people are smiling at you, laughing with you.

"Excellent as usual, Mr. Riddle," you hear and at that, you plaster a wide smile on your face in place of the smirk that desperately tries to break out. Inwardly, you're laughing at how easy it is to deceive these foolish sheep.

Slytherin is the perfect house for you; you were sure of it.

It's at Hogwarts that you first realize 3 things.

1. You're not really a muggleborn at all. Halfbloods had some standing but you're still ashamed at the impurity of your heritage.

2. You hate muggles; you hate the orphanage and hell if you were going to stand for their treatment of you.

3. You were going to do everything you could to stop them.

When you opened the book that opened your eyes, everything changed. The family line jumps out at you, Marvolo Gaunt. The name of your grandfather. Right then and there you know you were someone special, knew it for real. You were the heir of Slytherin.

Pushing back the house loyalty that branded you as a Gryffindor, you embrace your rightful heritage.

You were a parseltongue after all; did you really think you could deceive yourself any further?

And suddenly, at that revelation, you feel a burning rage and fury at that god damned orphanage. Who were they to treat anyone so unfairly? Especially someone as important as yourself.

You vow then, to eliminate all of them, all the filthy muggle who dare take a wizard's rights and heritage away from them. You would fight for the neglected.

Trying to push back the house loyalty that branded you as a Hufflepuff, you knew you could not completely embrace your rightful heritage.

But then you remember that you were a parseltongue; did you really think you could deceive yourself any further?

And suddenly, at that revelation, you feel a burning rage and fury at that god damned orphanage. Who were they to treat anyone so unfairly? Especially someone as important as yourself.

You vow then to eliminate all of them, all the filthy muggles who dared take a wizard's rights and heritage away from them. A sense of lingering debt to the wizarding world as a whole tugs at you and you decide to work towards their liberation. Never again would wizards have to suffer at the hands of the muggles.

You embrace your heritage, simply because of the opportunities you'd gain and the knowledge now burning at your fingertips.

You should've seen it coming, you should've known better. You were, after all, a parseltongue.

And suddenly, at that revelation, you feel a burning rage and fury at that god damned orphanage. Who were they to treat anyone so unfairly? Especially someone as important as yourself.

You vow then to eliminate all of them, all the filthy muggles who dared take a wizard's rights and heritage away from them. Those muggles dared to obscure knowledge from you. From wizards. Selfish fools. You would rid the world of them all; you would help the world be enlightened.

You embrace your heritage. You were always a true Slytherin, snake to the core.

You smirk because it was inevitably true. You were, after all, a parseltongue.

And suddenly, at that revelation, you feel a burning rage and fury at that god damned orphanage. Who were they to treat anyone so unfairly? Especially someone as important as yourself.

You vow then to eliminate all of them, all the filthy muggles who dared take a wizard's rights and heritage away from them. Those filthy muggles. You were ashamed to call Tom Riddle your father, ashamed to taint the linage of Salazar Slytherin with impure blood. You'd purge them then, all the unmagical impurities, if only to repent for the sins of your wayward mother.

Your school years pass in a blur, years upon years of endless praise. You smile, because that's just what you wanted. You wanted people to like you, to revere you even. It was good to keep up an image.

And through it all, you were silently gathering your base.

Voldemort, the name runs through your mind, promising power, promising the future as you see it. Never before had you felt so potent, so strong. Because Voldemort is the new horizon and leader of tomorrow. You'll make a change in this world, you have to.

You're sixteen and full of confidence when you first read about horcruxes. They intrigue you. A way to live forever, a way to accomplish your goal.

When you reach out a hand to grab the book, something deep within you stirs. You were a Gryffindor, fighter for the light, weren't you? Why would you be even considering this dark idea? Images of a future lost flash past your eyes and suddenly your hand grasps the book of its own accord.

What were you thinking? You were a Gryffindor, brave and bold, who were you to back down in fear of a silly little notion?

There was no way you would ever be caught running from a challenge.

You're sixteen and full of confidence when you first read about horcruxes. They intrigue you. A way to live forever, a way to accomplish your goal.

When you reach out a hand to grab the book, something deep within you stirs. Hufflepuffs weren't supposed to delve this deep into dark arts. Hufflepuffs weren't dark, period. How could you betray your house, give up that unwavering loyalty? Images of a future lost flash past your eyes and suddenly your hand grasps the book of its own accord.

What were you thinking? You were a Hufflepuff and loyal as you were you were loyal to yourself first. Why would you back away from your ideals now?

No Hufflepuff would ever be caught betraying something they believed in and you weren't about to be the exception.

You're sixteen and full of confidence when you first read about horcruxes. They intrigue you. A way to live forever, a way to accomplish your goal.

When you reach out a hand to grab the book, something deep within you stirs. This knowledge was strictly forbidden and you feel a thrill at being able to learn something nobody else even got the opportunity to head about. You hand shoots forwards and grabs the book, eager to read.

You were a Ravenclaw and you valued knowledge above all else. With knowledge comes power and with power comes influence.

Why would you ever refuse a chance to broaden your knowledge?

You're sixteen and full of confidence when you first read about horcruxes. They intrigue you. A way to live forever, a way to accomplish your goal.

When you reach out a hand to grab the book, something deep within you stirs. This was the darkest of dark arts and if you took the book, there would be no going back. You are reserved, not trusting the vision of perfection. But images of a lost opportunity flash through your mind and in a brash movement, you're grasping the book.

Tossing away your reservations, you observe the book. Slytherin to the core, you would have done anything to reach your goal.

No Slytherin stops before reaching their true potential.

You commit yourself to your task. Knowing what has to be done will be done. There's no turning back now and secretly, you feel a thrill at pursuing the task.

You realize what your next task is when you read about the murder one has to commit to create a horcrux.

You're standing at the gates of Riddle Manor, having long tracked down this loathed muggle of a father. Idly, you wonder if the man ever even knew he had a son. It was too late to go back now, Morfin's wand already in hand.

You walk in boldly, the lion inside of you roaring for vengeance and with righteous rage.

The dining room is silent as the Riddles inside look into your flickering red eyes with fear. You feel a twinge of fear somewhere in your heart and a nudge of regret. You quickly swallow the fear with courage and banish regret to the deepest recesses of your mind.

You don't realize you're grinning as you utter words of the family's demise.

'Avada Kedavdra'

You walk in boldly, the badger inside you itching to claw its way out to right the wrong.

The dining room is silent as the Riddles inside look into your flickering red eyes with fear. You feel a twinge of fear somewhere in your heart and a nudge of regret. You quickly try to repress your fear, hammering it until it's gone. You leave the regret, feeling beads of sweat pour down your face. What you're about to do is unforgivable and it's only fair you carry a stretch of the burden.

You don't realize you're grinning as you utter words of the family's demise.

'Avada Kedavdra'

You walk in boldly, the raven inside you curiously contemplating your next move.

The dining room is silent as the Riddles inside look into your flickering red eyes with fear. You feel a twinge of fear somewhere in your heart and a nudge of regret. You scoff at the emotions, idly wondering why you're feeling it when it disappears. Ravens don't fear knowledge and certainly don't regret gaining it.

You don't realize you're grinning as you utter words of the family's demise.

'Avada Kedavdra'

You walk in boldly, the snake inside your hissing at the brash move.

The dining room is silent as the Riddles inside look into your flickering red eyes with fear. You feel a twinge of fear somewhere in your heart and a nudge of regret. You cower slightly behind the display of emotions before tightly wrapping them up to analyze later on. You put a cold mask upon your face to face your task.

You don't realize you're grinning as you utter words of the family's demise.

'Avada Kedavdra'

After that it's easier to make the soul containers. Briefly, you realize the opportunity to make another, taking advantage of the girl you killed earlier that year with the basilisk. You smirk then, feeling the paths of dark magic flow easier in your heart.

It's not that bad, being a dark wizard. Not bad at all.

But when graduation rolls around and you gather your group of servants to do your bidding, you realize you'll miss the school, miss your home.

You dismiss the thought as you instruct your new Death Eaters on their tasks.

You leave that night, eager to get away from the place and to grow in power and strength.

You stand at the headmaster's door, feeling the nostalgia of returning to your old home. A sudden fury shoots through you when you remember the way the old man rejected your offer to teach.

No matter, you don't need the position.

Still, when you saw the look on that old man's face you felt something. Too weak to be of any use but that old regret at using dark magic comes back as you further embrace your Gryffindor side. You weren't exactly the Golden Boy of Hogwarts anymore, weren't you?

Snarling, you banish that weak part of your mind to the back of your head as you walk away from the castle. You could plan the old man's demise later on.

You stand at the headmaster's door, feeling the nostalgia of returning to your old home. A sudden fury shoots through you when you remember the way the old man rejected your offer to teach.

No matter, you don't need the position.

Still, when you saw the look on that old man's face you felt something. Old notions of loyalty once again had jumped out at you when you stared into that old man's face. He trusted you before, didn't he? Trusted the humble Hufflepuff who was so loyal to his school. But that wasn't you anymore.

Snarling, you banish that weak part of your mind to the back of your head as you walk away from the castle. You could plan the old man's demise later on.

You stand at the headmaster's door, feeling the nostalgia of returning to your old home. A sudden fury shoots through you when you remember the way the old man rejected your offer to teach.

No matter, you don't need the position.

Still, when you saw the look on that old man's face you felt fury at being deprived the opportunity to teach. The opportunity to learn. You lash out at a nearby tapestry. Who was that old man to deprive a Ravenclaw of his greatest pleasure? And to not be able to pass his knowledge onto next generations!

Snarling, you walk away from the castle, all the while planning the old man's demise.

You stand at the headmaster's door, feeling the nostalgia of returning to you old home. A sudden fury shoots through you when you remember the way the old man rejected your offer to teach.

No matter, you don't need the position.

You had no need of being a teacher to accomplish your goals. You scoff at yourself then, burying the part of you who was calling out to stay at the castle, stay at home. You would be a true Slytherin and continue to pursue your goals.

You walk away from the school, idly planning the old man's demise as you try and lock away the part of you that cries out at being separated from home.

You take up the job at Borgin's to find objects of value. Horcruxes were still at the front of your mind. Luck comes in the form of Hephzibah Smith and you quickly snatch up the trophies, making soul containers.

It's horribly ironic, in that way that you planned to defile the purest objects of your own house.

You hear about the prophecy after years of war. Just when you could feel victory at your fingertips, the one thing that could lead to your downfall comes in reach of your grasping hands.

You need to make sure you will win. When you're so close.

Yes, you decide you would kill the Potter boy.

You're standing at the door to the Potter's house. Grinning at the ironic day, you blast open the door in a dramatic gesture and stalk into the room.

James Potter throws a spell at you and as you idly bat it away, you feel a slight flinch at the scarlet and gold decorations of the house. Memories of banners hung in the Great Hall flash by your mind. Snarling, you put all your rage into your spells, quickly dispatching the elder Potter, too distracted by old memories to really put up an effort.

Still, that nostalgic air never leaves you as you walk up the stairs, seeing flashes of gold and red in the corner of your eye.

You admire the woman, really you do. It takes courage to look you in the eye and beg for the life of her son. Still, you cannot waver in your resolve.

She dies quickly, you grant her that.

And then, you turn to look into the eyes of the prophesized child. His bright green eyes swim with tears.

Slowly, so slowly, you lower your wand.

You're standing at the door to the Potter's house. Grinning at the ironic day, you blast open the door in a dramatic gesture and stalk into the room.

James Potter throws a spell at you and as you idly bat it away, you admire the family's loyalty to their house. Bright red and gold flashes at you left and right as you take on the elder Potter. Spells fly around, destroying the furniture, destroying the house. You dispatch of Potter carefully, making sure he stays down.

Idly, you walk up the stairs to finish the job.

You admire the woman, really you do. She's loyal to her family, loyal to her son. It takes dedication to bargain with your own life.

She dies quickly, you grant her that.

And then, you turn to look into the eyes of the prophesized child. His bright green eyes swim with tears.

Slowly, so slowly, you lower your wand.

You're standing at the door to the Potter's house. Grinning at the ironic day, you blast open the door in a dramatic gesture and stalk into the room.

James Potter throws a spell at you and as you idly bat it away, you snort at the ridiculous decorations around the house. No intelligent being would be caught with displaying their loyalties like that. The decorations annoy you, was there ever any doubt the Potters were light wizards to a tee? You dispatch of the elder Potter with an unusual cruelty.

Stalking up the stairs, you growl as more red and gold smother you.

You admire the woman, really you do. She's smart enough to know her son won't survive without her intervening. Still, it's futile, despite the noble intentions.

She dies quickly, you grant her that.

And then, you turn to look into the eyes of the prophesized child. His bright green eyes swim with tears.

Slowly, so slowly, you lower your wand.

You're standing at the door to the Potter's house. Grinning at the ironic day, you blast open the door in a dramatic gesture and stalk into the room.

James Potter throws a spell at you and as you idly bat it away, you sneer at the outwardly Gryffindor-ish room. Lions were never your thing. It seems almost like an insult, decorating their house this way. You feel the inner Slytherin rear up to strike out at the elder Potter and soon, he's lying dead on the ground.

You smile, blasting some more red and gold as you walk up the stairs to fulfill your goal.

You admire the woman, really you do. Her mind is quick, cunning even. There was no other way out and she needed to ensure her son's survival.

Too bad there was no chance of that.

She dies quickly, you grant her that.

And then, you turn to look into the eyes of the prophesized child. His bright green eyes swim with tears.

Slowly, so slowly, you lower your wand.

Years spent as a spirit cloud your mind. Day after day, week after week, month after month and then year after year is spent in a tandem. There's nothing for you to do. Not really.

It's only when you hear that Harry Potter is coming to Hogwarts that you latch onto Quirell with intentions to meet the child that defeated you.

You want to meet the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad…Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better go change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

Ron gaped at the now closed door. "Harry," he whispered, "whatever you do, don't get sorted into Gryffindor."

Harry glanced at him curiously, "Why not? That girl said it was the best."

Ron nodded. "It was, maybe years ago, but You-Know-Who himself was a Gryffindor. Nobody likes the house ever since, not even if Dumbledore was in it," he said, head bobbing up and down in enthusiasm.

Harry grinned wryly. "Got it, not Gryffindor," he confirmed with thoughts of being labelled as dark as the one who killed his parents already in his mind as he set his resolve to not be sorted into Gryffindor.

Not Gyrffindor.

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

Ron glared darkly at the now closed door. "Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," he muttered. Then, a light seemed to go on in his head as he suddenly whipped his head around to face Harry. "Harry, I don't care what house you get in, just not Hufflepuff!"

Harry glanced at him curiously, "Why not?"

Ron shook his head. "You don't understand, Harry. Years ago, the house was just a load of duffers, but people say that You-Know- Who himself was a Hufflepuff!"

Harry grinned wryly. "Got it, not Hufflepuff," he confirmed with thoughts of being labelled as dark as the one who killed his parents already in his mind as he set his resolve to not be sorted into Hufflepuff.

Not Hufflepuff.

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

Ron gaped at the not closed door. "Ravenclaw? Doesn't she know?" he whispered, horrified.

Harry glanced at him curiously, "Know what?"

Ron looked at him. "Harry, Ravenclaw is a bad house. Terrible. You-Know-who himself was a Ravenclaw! Nobody wants to be a Ravenclaw anymore. Ha," he laughed, "It'd be funny if that girl got in."

Harry grinned wryly. "Got it, not Ravenclaw," he confirmed with thoughts of being labelled as dark as the one who killed his parents already in mind as he set his resolve to not get sorted into Ravenclaw.

Not Ravenclaw.

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell- George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mum and Dad were in it too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol- I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "Don't get sorted there."

Harry grinned wryly. "Got it, not Slytherin," he confirmed with thoughts of being labelled as dark as the one who killed his parents already in mind as he set his resolve to not get sorted into Slytherin.

Not Slytherin.

Harry Potter grows to be a hero. The Chosen One. The Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry Potter grows to be your deepest and most hated nemesis.

You hate him. You know you do. Everything about Harry Potter throws you in such a rage that you can barely think straight.

It's not the righteous and self- sacrificing morals he has that bothers you the most. No, what bothers you is how much you and he are alike. You see yourself in this boy, you cannot deny that. You see the lost child who gave everything to the world he's in. The child who gave his heart to the world that rescued him from the cruel realities of humankind.

But Harry Potter is both like you and a world apart at the same time.

Harry Potter is so noble it hurts. So loyal to the people he cares about. So intelligent and quick to learn. So willing to do anything to help the people around him.

And in the end, you never realize. That it mattered not who you were and what path you chose to take.

All Roads Lead to Rome.

A/N: So, you like? :D

Personally, I find Ravenclaw! Voldemort the most believable. Knowledge is power. It was kind of a stretch for Hufflepuff! Voldemort but Gryffindor! Voldemort wasn't that terribly unbelievable. Either way, I'm sure parts of it is OOC but that's kind of the point.

Review? They make my day! :D

Ciao! ~ Ale