Pre-Chapter: Voldemort is Dead
Post-DH, ignoring the epilogue. You shouldn't have to ask why.
Author's Notes: Warnings of any nature may be added at any point in time, but I'll keep to canon (as far as pairings are concerned) as an initial condition, at the very least.
Please review; I'm hungry for feedback! ^_^ Will post the next chapter after 3 reviews, or 3 weeks after a good review.
I am gone.
Before continuing to read, you must realise this. I am not planning some great scheme to be the world's strongest sorcerer, or anything of that caliber. The one everyone knew is gone; there is no reversing that end.
However... I live.
To understand this paradox, you must first understand the circumstances of my demise. I'm sure you've all heard the story, as told by your little hero boy. I don't mean to imply anything; someone of my stature has most certainly learned humility; but I do mean to disillusion you from your supposed "end": there is no end, and there will never be. As long as human blood flows through human veins, everything will continue in the cycle. I have removed myself as I was, as a driving force of the cycle, and now I only seek to remove my opposite, the other driving force, from the cycle. For ones such as ourselves were never meant to exist in the cycle for longer than the briefest of moments.
I used to be the villain; I'll admit it. I was bent on killing the filthy muggle scum from the face of the earth who should have--
Why am I alive? It's an unfortunate comedy, you see. A person's soul can only be so fractured before strange things start happening to it. With as many horcruxes as I created, which I now see was quite foolish, but opened the door for this miracle, my soul could barely contain itself in my own body. It was to the extent that when I died, my soul was so used to finding a new place to grasp... that it did. Indeed, it used the remainder of my magical potential to create this body for me. This detestable, disgusting body... but I am grateful to be alive. Even if it means that I am now worse than filth. I... don't even have words for what I am right now. But you may call me Thomas.
I have not given up on wizardry, you see... I have merely lost all capacity to operate magic. It seems the only magic that works is the Dark Mark, and too few of my servants are alive now; I am currently taking residence with two that went unrecognised by the Ministry, for whatever reason. They are alive, and they house me. This is all that's important at the moment, until I can claim a residence of my own.
I have kept up with the news. I have seen the rise of the "hero of our time". It's disgusting. Damn the so-called "prophecy"; prophets are no more than self-righteous bastards unable to keep their damn opinions and hopes to themselves. They are weeds of this world and deserve to be--
My servants treat me well, though they were never exactly the most loyal of my followers. In the few weeks since I have taken residence here, I have grown exceedingly tired of their pitying glances. They should be watching me with reverence! Instead, they see a crippled man, dizzy, in pain, and confused. Wandless, even. I have violently rejected their inferior wands when offered. Again, the pitying looks. They think I am broken from having my own wands destroyed. It is not so. I feel I should need no wands to command them. Even if I possessed my wand, what good would it do me now?
They have taken the treasures that in my arrogance I saw no need for, and returned them to me. Everything is important now; something is always better than nothing. Even seemingly inconsequential things have a value, now. I've had weeks to brood over my downfalls. Perhaps I was too daring, not daring enough? I had power and experience over the Potter boy; what had he but luck? After Albus was dead, I should have possessed ultimate power; no man should have been able to fell me! And yet, I am in this pathetic body, that seemingly rejects my presence, waiting for some measure of strength to return. Unable to tolerate the pitying gazes of my servants, I have locked myself away. Every time I stand before them, I see pity, doubt, and deceit in their eyes. They resent my presence, but I haven't a choice as to my residence, at the moment. Eventually, I will escape this damned place. As soon as my body recovers, and I no longer faint at random intervals, I will leave.
The world hates me. They rejoiced at my downfall, and I do not blame them. I killed their loved ones, after all. The unfeeling, brutal, murderous Dark Lord fell. That is reason to rejoice. However, it makes my present situation quite precarious. I must leave, ere my servants' scheming reaches fruition, for they have ambition too. Turning in the reincarnation of the Dark Lord to the Ministry would give them prime seats in whichever occupation they should desire. They would be heroes too, just as much as the Potter boy. And who (other than myself, of course, for I understand people are quite different from myself) wouldn't want that?
I am searching for a good companion. In my later days, Nagini was the only being I could trust fully. She is dead now, of course, but to have another companion like her would be tremendous. I have been looking, of course, and I've heard rumors of a "demon snake" in South America. I should be able to use some influence and stolen money to attain her. It's said she eats children, and her gaze is paralyzing. However, investigations say she is not a basilisk. I would not fancy another such pet; as tremendous as they are, I cannot forgive my basilisk for dying and destroying a truly great horcrux. Some, however, theorize this snake has magical potential. I should love the chance to meet her, as I'm sure my servants would relish my departure. A shame that I cannot curse them into being better servants.
"Orders? From who?
...
What do you mean, you can't--!
...
Do you even realize--!
...
What?! ...WHAT?!
...
No!
...
No! Of course I--!"
As quickly as he had spoken, the head disappeared from the campfire. "Deve ser nada brinca comigo!"
His men stared at him. "O Que?"
"Ey! Comece mover; temos que andar milhas receber à cobra."
The men started panicking. "Que um?! A cobra é perigosa!"
He nodded, muttering to himself, "Eu não posso acreditar que eu farei isto para algum filho arrogante de uma cadela que pensa que ele pode enfeitiçar me em qualquer trabalho ele quer."
He couldn't believe some English bastard could possibly want this snake; why? The nature of the business didn't make it seem like he wanted to research it; but Paulo had experience in dealing with the black market, and knew better than to ask questions. He told his men to get their wands ready to bind the snake and cover its eyes, when they found it. There were too many of them for her to take them all down. They'd catch her, all right, but he'd better fetch a pretty penny for this bitch when they finished their delivery.
"She's beautiful..." I could hear her curses from within the cage. She was positively evil.
At my gesture, my servants handed over the money and bade the men leave. They did so quickly. My servants left as well, at my gesture. "I will feed you blood, my darling..." I cooed to the beautiful serpent.
"Your blood would be mosssst appresssciated, prey..." I smiled. Such a vile soul. "Not mine, pet. There will be much blood in your future, but first you musst recognisse your masster..."
"No man, sssserpent or beassst iss my massster. All are prey before me..." Her threats did nothing but make me more excited. Oh, she would never be tamed; that much was obvious. She was more deadly and fierce than Nagini, just like a certain other servant that had died in her service to me. Yes, that would be quite the appropriate name. I opened the box. "Come forth, my Bellatrix." She slid from the box, her eyes locking on me. My arms and legs locked in place. "Acknowledge your masster, heir to Ssalazsar Sslytherin, tamer of the bassilissk, Lord of Darkness!" She locked eyes with me, and I could feel her presence in my mind. She was challenging my claims. After a moment, I felt her presence leave my mind.
"Masssster..." she murmured, and I was released from her gaze. She bowed her head.
"Together we will do great thingss, Bellatrix."
"Terrible."
"Yess; and great."
She wrapped herself around me and bit my neck. Searing pain radiated from the wound. I blacked out, but did not fall, supported by my only truly loyal servant. Already I was starting to recover; now I needn't worry about betrayal; my Bellatrix would defend me; her bite sealed her loyalty. I would start a new reign with my partner who saw my losses, but held nothing but respect for me. Together we would do great things indeed.
