Disclamer: I do not own any of the characters-well, character- used in this
fic. The Dark Lords thoughts are perhaps my own, but Voldemort is purely J.
K. Rowlings.
Authors Note: Please have some mercy on me if this little thoughty fic is bad, as this is my first time ever attempting to write one. The quote I borrowed for the title seemed fitting, and that last I, though awkward sounding, did too. Anywho, to all those that might be confused about where this takes place, Voldemort is in one of his first hiding spots, right after killing the Potters thinking his murderous thoughts. Please read and review. Constructive critisism is always appreciated.
I Came, I Saw, I Conquered, I Fled
The two powers of Death and Destruction are wondrous things. It is amazing to think what chaos one could cause, with just two simple words.
Avada Kedavra. The most powerful spell of all. The most dangerous of the Unforgivable Curses that were outlawed by the ministry. It is more dangerous than the controlling of ones mind- one could always break free of anothers control. It is more dangerous than the feeling of white-hot needles scraping and pricking your back, and the pain felt afterwards. Your body would be able to heal itself after those spells. True, when used together they could be a more formidable weapon than when used separately, but not as formidable as Avada Kedavra, for this spell was a killing spell. Neither body nor mind could escape this one, and after it the victim was returned from whence he came, never to be seen living on the Earth again.
It is said that no one is able to survive this deadly spell, and there is proof. The millions of people no longer walking the Earth are proof enough of its power. Yet, how is it possible that one mere baby survived it, when a countless number of witches and wizards famous for their power died and instead if him being injured I. I lie here in a darkened part of the world, barely alive. How could the spell have turned on me like that, leaving me to the mercies of this cold and cruel world, with only Nagini to care for me? A rage the likes of which have never been seen before welled up inside me, threatening to burst out, but I make no movement to counter it. Yet, I make no move to let it out. Happy thoughts and memories do not exist when one is a dark lord, or when one has been abandoned from a young age.
I hate the Potters with what's left of my heart. The wizarding world will wonder why I myself killed the Potters, but they will never know. Their baby has rightfully earned my wrath, and I swear by and to all the deities of the world, that I shall have my revenge on him.
Authors Note: Please have some mercy on me if this little thoughty fic is bad, as this is my first time ever attempting to write one. The quote I borrowed for the title seemed fitting, and that last I, though awkward sounding, did too. Anywho, to all those that might be confused about where this takes place, Voldemort is in one of his first hiding spots, right after killing the Potters thinking his murderous thoughts. Please read and review. Constructive critisism is always appreciated.
I Came, I Saw, I Conquered, I Fled
The two powers of Death and Destruction are wondrous things. It is amazing to think what chaos one could cause, with just two simple words.
Avada Kedavra. The most powerful spell of all. The most dangerous of the Unforgivable Curses that were outlawed by the ministry. It is more dangerous than the controlling of ones mind- one could always break free of anothers control. It is more dangerous than the feeling of white-hot needles scraping and pricking your back, and the pain felt afterwards. Your body would be able to heal itself after those spells. True, when used together they could be a more formidable weapon than when used separately, but not as formidable as Avada Kedavra, for this spell was a killing spell. Neither body nor mind could escape this one, and after it the victim was returned from whence he came, never to be seen living on the Earth again.
It is said that no one is able to survive this deadly spell, and there is proof. The millions of people no longer walking the Earth are proof enough of its power. Yet, how is it possible that one mere baby survived it, when a countless number of witches and wizards famous for their power died and instead if him being injured I. I lie here in a darkened part of the world, barely alive. How could the spell have turned on me like that, leaving me to the mercies of this cold and cruel world, with only Nagini to care for me? A rage the likes of which have never been seen before welled up inside me, threatening to burst out, but I make no movement to counter it. Yet, I make no move to let it out. Happy thoughts and memories do not exist when one is a dark lord, or when one has been abandoned from a young age.
I hate the Potters with what's left of my heart. The wizarding world will wonder why I myself killed the Potters, but they will never know. Their baby has rightfully earned my wrath, and I swear by and to all the deities of the world, that I shall have my revenge on him.