The desolate cityscape stretched out in front of him, the carcass of that great beast once known as society. He observed scores of automobiles, crushed, twisted, and melted into hideous globs by the might of his indomitable will. He inhaled deeply, and smelt nothing but blood and ash. Rivers of scarlet had coursed through the streets as London burned, but now they had solidified into a gelatinous sludge, one not nearly as dramatic as he would have expected. The war was over. Everyone was dead. For the first time in several days, he spoke. He uttered two words: "Fuck it."

The man spun around and disappeared without a sound. He poped back into existence in the highlands of Scotland, where once there had been a castle. He strode past the rubble of a gate, feeling the tingle of dying wards. He twirled his wand, and a sphere of blueish white energy gathered at its tip. Streaks of light shot into the slowly rotating sphere from all around, and after about a minute, the man flicked his wand sharply into the air. The sphere rocketed into the sky, flashed, and disappeared. He had just stripped all remaining ambient magic from the area previously known as Hogwarts.

An hour or so later, what little remained of the castle proper had been cleared away, and a flat circle of stone with a diameter of about 20 feet lay surrounded by bare dirt. The man raised his wand, and once more cleansed the area of magical residue. He was about to undertake an exceedingly delicate operation. With a small chisel and hammer the man spent 6 straight days carving arcane circles of runes into the stone. After finishing the ritual carvings, he stripped nude, laid down his wand, and stepped into a blank space in the middle of the runic array. He raised his hands, and slammed his wrists onto two protruding stone spikes, thus spilling his blood, and causing it to flow through the runes, thus activating the magic.

*34 years earlier*

"Troll! In the dungeons! Thought you ought to know" As the students began screaming, they did not notice a small mote of purple light shot through with black ribbons snap into existence. They did not notice it burrow into the back of Professor Quirrel's head.

Lord Voldemort was not a happy spirit. He had been stuck, weak as a child, in the back of some imbeciles head for months now. He was growing tired of it. All of a sudden, he felt pain, pain like he had known only once before, when that cursed Potter brat had cast him out of his body. The pain lasted only a few seconds, and then, he felt someone slip through his occlumency barriers. Lord Voldemort's mind disintegrated, as he was replaced by Lord Voldemort.

Rather than directing Quirrel to the third floor corridor, the new and improved Lord Voldemort made a beeline for the Room of Requirement. He entered the room of hidden things, and acquired a very special tiara. He assimilated his horcrux. He repeated this immensely painful process in the Malfoy mansion, the Gaunt shack, and Gringotts. He went to a small cave to retrieve and absorb his locket horcrux, but found it missing. Of course, this was no problem for the dark lord. A simple piece of blood magic was more than enough to locate such an important part of him. He found the horcrux in #12 Grimmauld Place, retrieved it, and absorbed it.

He had discovered that multiple horcruxes do bring immortality, but they also bring insanity. He was not bothered by this until after he had finished conquering the world. At that point, he realized that ruling a world with no people in it was absolutely no fun whatsoever. The insane Lord Voldemort of the future decided that his new goal was to have as much fun as possible. He developed a means of timetravel, and sent a fragment of his sould hurtling back through time. His goal was to reconstruct the entirety of his soul so that he could enjoy sanity while on his quest for amusement. Naturally, he figured that should the need ever arise, he could easily re-make horcruxes, and reconquer the world.

Now that the entirety of Lord Voldemort was possessing Quirrel, it was no challenge at all for him to brew up a few potions, carve a few runic arrays, and with the help of a human sacrifice, create an entirely new, whole, healthy body.

A dome of brilliant scarlet appeared over Hogwarts. Lightning crashed into and throughout it, vast amounts of destructive energy shredding the thousand year old wards. As the wards fell apart, a man swept down from the sky. He alight on the main steps, and with a flick of his hand, blasted open the doors. He strode through Hogwarts, and seconds later entered the great hall. He swept over to the Gryffindor table, where Harry Potter was just about to sit down. Lord Voldemort seized him by the throat, and stroked one finger across Harry's famous scar. Harry screamed, as Voldemort tore his own soul out of the boy.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore watched in horror. The wards of Hogwarts had been overwhelmed within seconds, gates enchanted to stand against anything from primitive cannonfire to fiendfyre blasted off their hinges, and now the chosen one being assaulted.

The great hall was in an uproar, and Albus shouted "Silence!" Everyone stopped. Voldemort lowered Harry to the ground, and then quirked his head at his old headmaster as he finished sorting out his soul.

"Who are you?" thundered the greatest wizard of the century.

With an impossibly angelic expression of innocence, Lord Voldemort asked "Who me? Why, I am but a humble wizard. I grew bored of the pedantic lifestyle of my time, and returned here, to prevent the calamities which would make fun impossible"

Albus gazed at the strange man, dumbstruck. Voldemort turned around, and started walking away.

"Where are you going?" yelled Albus. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps Columbia. Or maybe Bolivia. Here's the way I figure it. I got bored, ruling an empty world, but now I'm back, I'm sane, and looking for some fun. Why does that mean Columbia? Well, I hear that cocaine's a hell of a drug"