Mayfly Dream

Albus Dumbledore had once said that what we became was our own choice, and that it mattered more than the abilities we possessed.

In fact, Voldemort already had many things. Even if he chose Dark magic, as long as he used it at the right time and in the right way, and considering how handsome he was, it would not have been so hard to accept.

But he had chosen extremism and hatred. Not every rich person was like his father. James might have been arrogant, but for Lily's sake, he had been willing to get to know Petunia and Vernon.

Even though the outcome had been terrible and the two had decided never to see each other again for the rest of their lives, they had at least tried. That was far better than Voldemort killing his grandfather's entire family on his first visit, then framing his uncle for it.

Voldemort hated his father and did not even intend to inherit the Riddle surname. Iris and Severus were the same. If their fathers did not care about their sons, why should they inherit their fathers' surnames?

Harry loved his father very much. Though he had never met James Potter, he had always hoped to learn everything about his father from the older generation. Perhaps that was the greatest difference between Harry, Voldemort, and Severus.

Tom really resembled the Eros Socrates spoke of, born of the god of wealth and the god of love. On one hand, he got whatever he wanted, whether wealth or women. On the other, like his mother, he threw those things away—obtaining them, then discarding them again—forever living in endless pursuit.

The sharp pain had come from her lower abdomen. Many women suffered through it once a month, but Pomona had never hurt so badly