Snow White
I drew the cloak closer to my shoulders as the blood chilling wind swept around me, threatening the cloak that I held so close. My hands, already white as snow, nearly froze as I readjusted it. I dared not let it go, for it concealed myself from the outside world as well as deflected the harsh wind biting at the arms and faces of all of my other compatriots too stupid to make proper use of the cloaks provided for them. Those bitches never knew the way to do anything. Each and every one of them had whined, fussed, or complained at one point in time, and I often wonder why I don't just kill them. And my answer? Although I will confide this in no other soul on this cursed human earth, I need the bastards. They are of almost no use, but they are of more use than nothing, as I constantly have to remind myself every time that the messenger brings news of their defeat. I also often wonder how they turned into such horrifyingly disastrous disgraces, when nearly fifteen years ago, they served me well and without question. I suppose that since my defeat by a child, they have lost faith in me, as I have done myself. However, I have learned since then never to underestimate my enemy, even if they be more than fifty years younger than I. But I must not think on that matter, for I told myself that I would not think of Harry Potter that day. Much work was to be done.
Since my return, everything has gone wrong. Through a series of unfortunate events that I do not wish to relive, the entire wizarding world is aware of my return. Too much time had been wasted with trivial matters, and action needed to be taken soon. However, now that my revival has been made known, action has been very dangerous. Until that day, that is.
Although my escapades to obtain the record of the prophecy have failed, all hope is not yet lost. My blundering servants have managed to retrieve something from the entire experience, something of great importance, something that has given us hope. They gave me names, two of them, the reciter, and the receiver of the much-coveted prophecy. One, the receiver, was Albus Dumbledore, an information source that would require an army far greater than fourty men and twenty-eight giants to capture. The other was a woman that I remember vaguely from my past, although I do not remember where from. The name presented to me was S. P. Trelawney, which no doubt stood for Sybill Pandora Trelawney, the divination teacher at Albus' school. Although this would also present a sizable challenge to get a hold of, it was not an impossibility with the resources at my disposal. I had arranged for the son of one of my Death Eaters, a Theodore Nott, to lure the woman to the forest. I must admit, I was quite reluctant to entrust a child with such a valuable task, and a betrayal of such trust would have resulted in death for both the wolf and the pup. However, the father was willing to put his own life at stake, so I decided that the child would be adequate for our needs. Besides, I have gained much more confidence in the abilities of children since recent events. Anyways, once we had the bitch within our grasp, it would be easy work, making her talk. That was the plan, anyway.
I had been warned, it is true, that coming to this forest would be dangerous, especially since I was within the confines of Albus Dumbledore's sacred school. But if the brat were discreet enough about it, no panic would have to arise, and if one should, I would be far away from this place when it did. It was a near perfect plan.
Another gust of wind blustered forth. I heard a crunch of leaves that told me that somebody hadn't enough stamina to stand their ground throughout a little wind. Pathetic, these death eaters were. But, like I said before, I need them if my plans were to follow through. However, I heard several more leaves crunching and realized that it was not my less-than-fit death eaters, but it was the Nott boy and the prophetess. Glancing around, I decided that nobody was following them. I signaled to my death eaters to close in with a low hiss that could be mistaken for no less than a gust of this wretched wind. As my death eaters closed ranks, their moving feet caused leaves to shift. The woman, looking nothing short of terrified of the forest, seemed ever so more panicked when the leaves seemingly rustled of their own accord. I couldn't help it - I grinned. I could taste her fear upon the air, and it was a most victorious taste, rather like honey. It seemed as though something was finally about to go right. But I tried not to feel too pleased yet, for it had been once too many that I was overconfident in my plans and lost my battle because of it. However, from the delicious taste of her fear, I felt that this would be easy work.
I let out a higher pitched hiss. As the bitch swung wildly around, looking for the source of the noise, the Nott boy slipped behind his father and under his cloak as nine wands pointed at the woman from what would look like out of nowhere. She collapsed on the ground of the clearing and began to scream for help, her face glistening in the sunlight as pearly tears raced down her porcelain cheeks. I could feel the satisfying tingle of pleasure dance on my fingertips as I held out my wand and removed the hood from my head. I walked forward, my cloak dragging upon the leafy floor. I dropped it in a heap among the leaves to reveal my whole body. My wand remained pointed at her. When I found myself within the circle of invisible death eaters, I snapped my fingers and the nine men removed their cloaks.
"You are Sybill P. Trelawny?" I asked, grinning. She cowered as I advanced.
"I....I am," she stuttered. I laughed. Her voice was trembling, like a leaf in a harsh winter storm, just begging to snap off of its branch. "W-w-what d-d-do you w-w-want w-w-with m-me?" I could have easily forgotten what I came here to do and tortured her to her death just to hear her scream. But I quickly recovered myself from this urge and told myself that I could have my fun once I had gotten the prophecy.
"Your voice," I said, grinning still more. I could see her face scrunch up into a fearfully confused expression.
"M-m-my vo--?" she started. Not wanting her to tempt me any more, I whispered the spell that I had created all those years ago. I saw her head drop backward and her eyes roll up into her head. I knew that she was deathly afraid, and I wanted to laugh again. But all of this preparation was not going to come to nothing, so I stayed silent and watched the woman as she began to speak. I shot a look at one of my death eaters, and he nodded, indicating that he was recording the moment with a spell. Suddenly, she began to speak in a deep Seer's voice, and I knew that she was reciting the prophecy. I admit, I was so overjoyed that I almost cried out, but of course, I resisted the urge, for such a cry could ruin all. When she was done speaking, she lay in the grass, gasping for breath.
I laughed again. Her pain, fear, and guilt were almost too much. The air was full of the scent of it. I could easily taste it. I felt even stronger in the midst of such strong emotions. The bitch wasn't a fighter, wasn't good for much, but her emotions were very much emphasized. Using her last remaining strength, she scrambled to her knees and bowed before me, begging for mercy. I laughed again, it was almost too much. I kicked her and she fell backwards, a bruise beginning to form around her eye, only magnified by the tears above it. Deciding that such an abundant source of emotion was not worthy of death, I flicked my wand and whispered a spell in her direction. A jet of pearly transclusent light shot out of my wand and smacked her in the stomach. I let out another laugh as her fear turned to desperation, which transformed into pure horror. The jet of light then came back out of her chest, now black. As it despersed into the air, I motioned to my Death Eaters to follow me, and I walked away. Though my hands were still snow white, they were now stained with blood.
I drew the cloak closer to my shoulders as the blood chilling wind swept around me, threatening the cloak that I held so close. My hands, already white as snow, nearly froze as I readjusted it. I dared not let it go, for it concealed myself from the outside world as well as deflected the harsh wind biting at the arms and faces of all of my other compatriots too stupid to make proper use of the cloaks provided for them. Those bitches never knew the way to do anything. Each and every one of them had whined, fussed, or complained at one point in time, and I often wonder why I don't just kill them. And my answer? Although I will confide this in no other soul on this cursed human earth, I need the bastards. They are of almost no use, but they are of more use than nothing, as I constantly have to remind myself every time that the messenger brings news of their defeat. I also often wonder how they turned into such horrifyingly disastrous disgraces, when nearly fifteen years ago, they served me well and without question. I suppose that since my defeat by a child, they have lost faith in me, as I have done myself. However, I have learned since then never to underestimate my enemy, even if they be more than fifty years younger than I. But I must not think on that matter, for I told myself that I would not think of Harry Potter that day. Much work was to be done.
Since my return, everything has gone wrong. Through a series of unfortunate events that I do not wish to relive, the entire wizarding world is aware of my return. Too much time had been wasted with trivial matters, and action needed to be taken soon. However, now that my revival has been made known, action has been very dangerous. Until that day, that is.
Although my escapades to obtain the record of the prophecy have failed, all hope is not yet lost. My blundering servants have managed to retrieve something from the entire experience, something of great importance, something that has given us hope. They gave me names, two of them, the reciter, and the receiver of the much-coveted prophecy. One, the receiver, was Albus Dumbledore, an information source that would require an army far greater than fourty men and twenty-eight giants to capture. The other was a woman that I remember vaguely from my past, although I do not remember where from. The name presented to me was S. P. Trelawney, which no doubt stood for Sybill Pandora Trelawney, the divination teacher at Albus' school. Although this would also present a sizable challenge to get a hold of, it was not an impossibility with the resources at my disposal. I had arranged for the son of one of my Death Eaters, a Theodore Nott, to lure the woman to the forest. I must admit, I was quite reluctant to entrust a child with such a valuable task, and a betrayal of such trust would have resulted in death for both the wolf and the pup. However, the father was willing to put his own life at stake, so I decided that the child would be adequate for our needs. Besides, I have gained much more confidence in the abilities of children since recent events. Anyways, once we had the bitch within our grasp, it would be easy work, making her talk. That was the plan, anyway.
I had been warned, it is true, that coming to this forest would be dangerous, especially since I was within the confines of Albus Dumbledore's sacred school. But if the brat were discreet enough about it, no panic would have to arise, and if one should, I would be far away from this place when it did. It was a near perfect plan.
Another gust of wind blustered forth. I heard a crunch of leaves that told me that somebody hadn't enough stamina to stand their ground throughout a little wind. Pathetic, these death eaters were. But, like I said before, I need them if my plans were to follow through. However, I heard several more leaves crunching and realized that it was not my less-than-fit death eaters, but it was the Nott boy and the prophetess. Glancing around, I decided that nobody was following them. I signaled to my death eaters to close in with a low hiss that could be mistaken for no less than a gust of this wretched wind. As my death eaters closed ranks, their moving feet caused leaves to shift. The woman, looking nothing short of terrified of the forest, seemed ever so more panicked when the leaves seemingly rustled of their own accord. I couldn't help it - I grinned. I could taste her fear upon the air, and it was a most victorious taste, rather like honey. It seemed as though something was finally about to go right. But I tried not to feel too pleased yet, for it had been once too many that I was overconfident in my plans and lost my battle because of it. However, from the delicious taste of her fear, I felt that this would be easy work.
I let out a higher pitched hiss. As the bitch swung wildly around, looking for the source of the noise, the Nott boy slipped behind his father and under his cloak as nine wands pointed at the woman from what would look like out of nowhere. She collapsed on the ground of the clearing and began to scream for help, her face glistening in the sunlight as pearly tears raced down her porcelain cheeks. I could feel the satisfying tingle of pleasure dance on my fingertips as I held out my wand and removed the hood from my head. I walked forward, my cloak dragging upon the leafy floor. I dropped it in a heap among the leaves to reveal my whole body. My wand remained pointed at her. When I found myself within the circle of invisible death eaters, I snapped my fingers and the nine men removed their cloaks.
"You are Sybill P. Trelawny?" I asked, grinning. She cowered as I advanced.
"I....I am," she stuttered. I laughed. Her voice was trembling, like a leaf in a harsh winter storm, just begging to snap off of its branch. "W-w-what d-d-do you w-w-want w-w-with m-me?" I could have easily forgotten what I came here to do and tortured her to her death just to hear her scream. But I quickly recovered myself from this urge and told myself that I could have my fun once I had gotten the prophecy.
"Your voice," I said, grinning still more. I could see her face scrunch up into a fearfully confused expression.
"M-m-my vo--?" she started. Not wanting her to tempt me any more, I whispered the spell that I had created all those years ago. I saw her head drop backward and her eyes roll up into her head. I knew that she was deathly afraid, and I wanted to laugh again. But all of this preparation was not going to come to nothing, so I stayed silent and watched the woman as she began to speak. I shot a look at one of my death eaters, and he nodded, indicating that he was recording the moment with a spell. Suddenly, she began to speak in a deep Seer's voice, and I knew that she was reciting the prophecy. I admit, I was so overjoyed that I almost cried out, but of course, I resisted the urge, for such a cry could ruin all. When she was done speaking, she lay in the grass, gasping for breath.
I laughed again. Her pain, fear, and guilt were almost too much. The air was full of the scent of it. I could easily taste it. I felt even stronger in the midst of such strong emotions. The bitch wasn't a fighter, wasn't good for much, but her emotions were very much emphasized. Using her last remaining strength, she scrambled to her knees and bowed before me, begging for mercy. I laughed again, it was almost too much. I kicked her and she fell backwards, a bruise beginning to form around her eye, only magnified by the tears above it. Deciding that such an abundant source of emotion was not worthy of death, I flicked my wand and whispered a spell in her direction. A jet of pearly transclusent light shot out of my wand and smacked her in the stomach. I let out another laugh as her fear turned to desperation, which transformed into pure horror. The jet of light then came back out of her chest, now black. As it despersed into the air, I motioned to my Death Eaters to follow me, and I walked away. Though my hands were still snow white, they were now stained with blood.