Where's Your Crown?
"...Then it all crashes down
And you break your crown,
And you point your finger,
But there's no one around.
Just want one thing,
Just to play the king,
But your castle's crumbled
and you're left with just a name.
Where's you crown, King Nothing?"
--Metallica, "King Nothing"
They say I've been defeated. SUch celebrations the magic world has never before seen. In a way, they're correct. I am weak. But not gone. My name is still enough to inflict fear in the bravest wizard's heart. Voldemort.
I don't know what went wrong that night. James Potter put up a fight, and I had expected no less of him. Lily, that muggle-born fool, also fought. When this failed, she pleaded at me to spare his life. Tried to appeal to my sympathies, I suppose. I am beyond such feelings.
Truth be known, I hadn't thought about killing the child until that moment. Some might say it was because of bloodlust that I tried--how I hate that word, it insinuates failure--tried to kill the boy. It was common sense. A vengeful wizard is best avoided, prevented, if possible. I raised my wand and--PAIN. I had never experienced anything so blinding, paralyzing or suffocating. In the haze, I could feel my power roll off of me in waves. It had taken so long, so many people I killed, to have this level of strength. And it washed away like dirt in a stream. I knew I would have to leave. I turned for one last look at this child--he whimpered, and I saw a small, lightning bolt-shaped scar on his face. That, dear boy, I thought, is a reminder. No one bests Lord Voldemort.
I am ashamed to admit that I am in hiding. The boy is a legend, and I am in hiding. They say my castle has crumbled, that I am hiding behind my name. But my name has a power of its own. My followers are loyal. When the time is right, and I have regained my strength, I will rise again, rebuild my castle and assemble my army. Then I will no longer be Voldemort, the power that was. I will be Voldemort, Master of everything.
A/N: I don't own anything that belongs to J.K. Rowling or Metallica, only my twisted little mind.
"...Then it all crashes down
And you break your crown,
And you point your finger,
But there's no one around.
Just want one thing,
Just to play the king,
But your castle's crumbled
and you're left with just a name.
Where's you crown, King Nothing?"
--Metallica, "King Nothing"
They say I've been defeated. SUch celebrations the magic world has never before seen. In a way, they're correct. I am weak. But not gone. My name is still enough to inflict fear in the bravest wizard's heart. Voldemort.
I don't know what went wrong that night. James Potter put up a fight, and I had expected no less of him. Lily, that muggle-born fool, also fought. When this failed, she pleaded at me to spare his life. Tried to appeal to my sympathies, I suppose. I am beyond such feelings.
Truth be known, I hadn't thought about killing the child until that moment. Some might say it was because of bloodlust that I tried--how I hate that word, it insinuates failure--tried to kill the boy. It was common sense. A vengeful wizard is best avoided, prevented, if possible. I raised my wand and--PAIN. I had never experienced anything so blinding, paralyzing or suffocating. In the haze, I could feel my power roll off of me in waves. It had taken so long, so many people I killed, to have this level of strength. And it washed away like dirt in a stream. I knew I would have to leave. I turned for one last look at this child--he whimpered, and I saw a small, lightning bolt-shaped scar on his face. That, dear boy, I thought, is a reminder. No one bests Lord Voldemort.
I am ashamed to admit that I am in hiding. The boy is a legend, and I am in hiding. They say my castle has crumbled, that I am hiding behind my name. But my name has a power of its own. My followers are loyal. When the time is right, and I have regained my strength, I will rise again, rebuild my castle and assemble my army. Then I will no longer be Voldemort, the power that was. I will be Voldemort, Master of everything.
A/N: I don't own anything that belongs to J.K. Rowling or Metallica, only my twisted little mind.