I think that technically my local newspaper owns this 'cause I submitted it for a contest. But I didn't win so I don't think they will care. Enjoy.
The Whisper of a Snake
The Untold Story of the Dark Lord
The whisper of a snake is a tiny thing. So small that only the most sensitive ears can hear it, and if they do, they dismiss it as nothing. Just a whisper. But this isn't a story about insignificance. This is a story of how the world almost fell into shadows because of the whisper of a snake.
When he was seven, Tom Riddle spoke to his first snake. It was a small garden snake with a cunning mind, but it changed his life and the fate of the world.
Another world opened for him, one of darkness and malevolence. The world of snakes. They became his only friends, until Tom himself was changed. The snakes twisted him, moulding and shaping as a blacksmith works metal. Gone was the odd, lonely child who would quietly do as he was told. In his place was a small boy who viewed the rest of the world with disdain. He observed his surroundings from deep black eyes that concealed emotions with an iron mask of politeness.
This was the birth of Lord Voldemort.
He began as a bully. Using snakes as spies, he collected blackmail. The snakes encouraged him to use his strengths, both magical and physical, to serve his own needs, warping his way of thinking until he thought like a snake.
Tom was a mere child, albeit a gifted one, and every human is prone to error. Eventually, the snakes grew tired of his blunders. They began to accompany him everywhere. They would hide in a pocket, up his sleeve, under his collar- anywhere where no one would see. And no one did. From their hideaways, they whispered advice, so softly, no one else would hear. And no one did.
As he grew older, Tom also grew in power and, through him, so did the snakes. Like leeches, they attached themselves to him and used his power for their own. As more and more time passed, Tom became accustomed to the parasites. When one rode beneath his collar, he forgot it was even there. He began to take the whispers as his own thoughts and from them his ego grew.
He was special. Using the twisted charm of a snake, he made others see it too. He drew people to him like Eve had been drawn to the apple. He amassed a following. He stood on the peak of a mountain of power built by the unseen ambitions of snakes. His murderous curses delivered death and destruction as lightening struck down the innocent.
But then, his lightning reflected. One chance in a million. Like any sensible snake, he receded into the shadows, mortally wounded. He waited and gathered strength, nursing his injuries and his growing hate for the Potter boy. Many snakes gave their lives so that their chosen one, their champion, could rise again. They gave him Nagini, an aggressive serpent designed to strike with fear and with venom simultaneously.
And she did.
They helped him rise again. He coiled in the shadows like one of their own, getting ready to strike. Together they waited. And then, they struck, moving into the light so fast and fearsome, their blitzkrieg met with little resistance.
But things that creep low fear the light. Biding his time, Lord Voldemort withdrew. He hid himself beneath the collar and ruled from the shadows.
Defying probability, his adversary, the one with the lightning scar, returned to strike a fatal blow. And in the end, the snakes were left twining themselves around the broken body of their champion. Back to the low earth from whence they came.
The whisper of a snake is a tiny thing. So small that only the most sensitive ears can hear it. And if they do they dismiss it as nothing.
Just a whisper...