Golden Immortality
A Harry Potter FanFiction
A/N: Hey! This is an entry in a competitive forum! The topic was The Gaunt Ring, and my chosen prompts were: "All that is gold does not glitter," -J.R.R. Tolkien; the word freedom; "It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not," - André Gide; 1st person POV; and the creature Dementors. Hope you enjoy!
This is told from the POV of the part of Voldemort's soul in the ring, the night the Dumbledore destroys it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
I am not alive, yet I'm not dead.
I am not a human, yet I have power than you could imagine.
I am a ring, a ring full of magic and something more powerful; a soul.
Hah, that sounds like one of those silly muggle riddles, like "What has four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three in the evening?"
Fitting, I guess, that I seem like a riddle. I am a Riddle. I am the Riddle.
I have freed myself from death by dealing death to those who don't deserve life. I am judge, juror, and executioner to those whose blood is less than pure. I inspire terror and hopelessness, paranoia and distrust.
Most people believe that dementors are the ultimate creatures of despair, as they sap away happiness and innocence. They don't realize that the despair unique to demsntors can be cured with a bit of chocolate or a display of love. When I cause despair, it lingers, driving the minds of the people into the oblivion.
I am the ultimate dementor. And I have done all of this as a portion of a soul. I am far from the strongest portion. I was creates when I murdered the remainder of my family. I was stored in our family ring. Captured, I guess you could say.
But my captivity has brought me freedom, more freedom than any plain mortal like you could imagine. Death has lost its hold on me. I am king. No man will conquer me, divided as I am into sevenths.
I have lingered here in this desolate ruin of a hovel, protecting my part of the soul. No one has entered here in years.
Not until tonight, that is.
An old man has entered into the room.
There is an old saying. It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not. I have lived by that. I have gone farther along the path to immortality than any other man, and most despise me for it. They think that I am a monster. I embody everything they hate; yet I cannot feel any hate on this old man; only sadness and disappointment. I know this man.
He was the only one of my teachers who never trusted me, the one who was never decieved. I despise this man. He's the only one who ever stood up to me.
The old fool. I sense him entering the building. I feel the magical pulse he sends out to find my location. I know he's honing in on my exact location. I can feel the vibrations of his footfalls. If I had a face, I would be smirking. I charge up my negative energy, ready to release it in a curse the moment that he touches my I release a little of my magic to ensure that the greedy fool is blindsided by his lust to see what once was, and to ensure that he sees my prison for what it really is. It is the most powerful of the Hallows, the only object with the capability to raise the dead.
The man draws closer, reaching his hand out to me, hesitating just above my surface. Feeling impatient, I shoot out one more burst of alluring energy, and his hand touches me. Letting out an inhuman shriek that should not have been possible, I release the curse and shake in excitement. I can feel the pure force of the pained yell that the man lets out unwillingly, can feel him writhing in pain before he manages to put a Freezing Charm on his arm. I know that I have done permanent damage to his arm, and hum in satisfaction, before I feel myself being lifted up and examined. "All that is gold does not glitter," he mumbles, as if chastising himself. I feel myself heat up in righteous indignation. how dare he! I will be golden, the king to unite all those who are pure. I will be a figurehead in an age of cultural reform.
I intend to be golden, and I intend to shine! I heat up even more, making sure he senses my discontent. "Come now, Tom," he speaks specifically to me. "Let's not get angry now. This won't be pleasant for either of us."
I wish I could give an irritated huff right now.
He slips me around the index finger on his left, cursed hand and twists on the spot. He has apparated us, and I am not sure where we are. I feel a sudden sense of foreboding. But why? I am invincible. No mortal can harm me, magical or otherwise. Only a very select few objects in the whole world can harm me, and I doubt that the old man can harm me. "Ah Tom," he says, as if he knows that I'm listening. "There was so much potential in you. You could have done great things."
How dare he! Could have done great things? I have done great things. Some people may say they are terrible, but none can deny that they are great. Again, better to be hated for what you are.
"This, though, even I believed was beyond you. To kill innocent people to ensure your own survival... That is the mark of someone who is no longer human... Someone who has gone beyond the world of the dark, and entered the realm of nightmares."
Of course I am in nightmares. I am the ultimate nightmare.
The man sighs. "So long, Tom." He takes me off and sets me on a desk, then raises a sword above me.
Hah! My metallic surface seems to gleam in amusement. As if a simple sword could destory me! I am more tereifying than a dementor! I have liberated myself from death! I am a living nightmare!
I sense the man raising the sword above me. Dumbledore plunges it towards me.
As if that will end me.
I am the Dark Lord!
I AM LORD VOLDEMO-