Written for the god prompt on Hogwarts is Home at Livejournal. Please be aware this is in no way meant to be offensive or to reflect my views. It is only how I believe Voldemort would think of Christianity not how I think or how things actually are.

Religion and God had never been a subject that Tom Riddle did not have knowledge of. Growing up in an orphanage in the 1930s, he, like the rest of the children in the institution, had been educated about religion. Pray had been said at the start of every meal, church was attended regularly on Sundays and the words of the bible were taught to all.

It was not necessarily a negative. As he grew, Tom had been wise enough to know that some children needed that hope. They needed to believe that someone cared and, when they died, they would venture forth to a better life.

He had not begrudged their faith as, for a little while at least, he had believed it too. It had only been when he was young, of course. Then he had not known any better. It had just repetition and habit to think that there was a god out there looking out for him. He had grown to realise that was not the case. It might have been for others, but not for him.

Tom had started to understand he was special. Compared to him, the other children had been stupid. They would spend weeks trying to learn anything, but, for him, it had only taken him a few hours. The matrons and teachers had complemented his intelligence (one of the few things they ever did). He had known it was well deserved. He, unlike the others, was a genius.

There was more to his gifts. He could do things the others would never dream about. Creatures did his bidding, especially serpents who he loved to converse with, he could animate objects, he could transport himself from one place to another and he could make others hurt.

Tom was smart. Tom was strong. Tom was special.

They were not.

He had known that in he was better than them and that no god could ever touch him. At least at the beginning, Tom accepted that there might be someone out there, but Tom was powerful enough to face anyone: Man or god. He had just never let a whisper of his thoughts escape him. He had continued his piety. He had continued to pray, attend church and act as a perfect little boy.

It was one of the first ways Tom had learned how to create the right fronts for situation.

By the age of eleven, Tom had still been sticking by his way to behave. When he had attended Hogwarts, no one in the orphanage ever knew what type of school he was really attending. If they had asked, they would have just been told it was just a school for boys who were particularly skilful and gifted.

Tom had liked that description.

While he had been packing his trunk for the first time so many years ago, Mrs Cole had passed him a bible to pack and he dutifully had complied. He had expected to continue to feign his belief at Hogwarts like he had done in the orphanage.

He did not.

Tom had observed every student and teacher closely and he quickly drew his own conclusions. There had been some who continued to believe in a God and to display piety. However, it had all seemed to be divided by class and blood. Often it had been half bloods and mudbloods who prayed and spoke of God just like that had been taught to at home.

However, for many pureblood families, that was not the case. At one point in time religion had been plasticised in pureblood households, but, as Wizarding Society had separated more and more from muggles, religion seemed to minimise. Without the influence of muggle priests and muggle churches, religions influence had decreased to only a minor twinge of impact. Some purebloods were religious, but it was mostly private rather than risk being labelled as a blood traitor.

In light of the situation, Tom had never removed his bible from his luggage. He had slipped into pureblood society and company where he acted like the perfect boy to suit the situation. He had never allowed himself to be like a mudblood or half blood so, within Hogwarts, religion and gods had been forgotten. Of course, he had still returned to the correct front once he returned to the orphanage, but had had only been in the summer.

By the end of graduation, any previous belief in a God had long since disappeared. Tom had stepped out the doors of Hogwarts with his belief only in the power of himself. Never would he bow before anyone, man or god. There was only one person worth bowing before: Himself.

After all that he had been through, experiments, curses, rituals, battles and horcruxes, Tom, now Lord Voldemort, returned to life no longer as a man. No, he was a god. Voldemort knew that well as he rested his arm against the top of a bookcase while he waited for his followers. He knew how everything worked now. He knew the truth.

Eyes partially closed in the dim from the little light in the room, his long pale fingers traced the side of the now tattered bible he had taken to Hogwarts. He had never burned it like so many other items from his past because this was one subject that had an importance. Not in a religious sense, but he could open it and read the words and know he had eclipsed this. He could stop storms, he could transfigure things into fish, he could make a world, he could inspire worship and he could return from the dead.

Voldemort kept a bible so he could return to the words and smile at the thought that he was better than any god in its pages. He had the true power.

As the doors opened and several black robed figures entered, Voldemort turned to embrace them with wide arms, an unpleasant smirk upon his face and scarlet eyes burning in amusement and power. One by one they fell to their knees and kissed his robes their every movement filled with worship and piety. Unlike the pathetic children or matrons at the orphanage, they had made the correct decision.

The matrons were correct about one thing: There was a god. However, that god was not some man residing in some place called heaven who gave a son for them all.

No, there was only Lord Voldemort and he deserved to be worshipped as greater than anyone else.