Summary : Voldemort reflects before entering the final battle. One-shot.
Disclaimer : Harry Potter is JK Rowling's property ; I'm just messing around with it for my own pleasure and unfortunately do not gain anything to compensate my waste of time --' .
It's Too Late Now
Wormtail quivers as I wave my hand in a clear dismissal, and he scurries out the room like the vermin he is. I wonder sometimes why I allow him to live, why I allow any of them to live. Yes, they are my followers, and yes, they are loyal, mostly. But they are certainly not the supporters I had envisioned for myself back when I made my plans for the future, for the new world, a new order where magical beings did not have to hide what they were anymore and could show their superiority once and for all. I have of course nearly established this undoing of the Muggle's ignorance of us magical beings, but I am still far from my goal. Under the Ministry's rule, they still hide. We still hide.
I have often imagined if perhaps it would have been different, should we say, if my mother had survived my being born. For her death was certainly the catalyst for the many events in my life that have moulded me into the being that I am right now. Or was the true catalyst my father's rejection? In that case, it should have all started when my mother bewitched him with that love potion, or should she just have kept on feeding him the dosage needed to keep him docile and at her side? After all, without him, without their coming together I would not be here now.
It seems rather preposterous that the developments in another person's life could affect the future of an entire race so much, and yet it is apparent that I am the evidence of this strange phenomenon that Muggles and Mudbloods have taken to calling the Butterfly-effect. It makes one think if perhaps one hasn't been so much in control of their life as been a plaything for the fates, a ball rolling 'round and 'round in the squall of a hurricane and yet the deafening silence keeps it from realizing the way events unfold are entirely out of it's grasp. A puppet on strings, too intent on what is happening around it and so set on behaving in a certain way that it does not realise it never consciously, and with a certain reason in mind, decided to act that way. I made the decision to become the ruler of that magical world that I suddenly became part of with the receiving of a simple letter and make it glorious again.
Although I used my ancestor, the great Slytherin's beliefs to sway the elite of the Wizarding World, and still continue to do so until this day, I must say that those are not entirely my beliefs. The ideology that spurs me on is the simple idea that the strong survive and rule over the weaker. And we are the strong. Slytherin's ideas of pureblood supremacy are naturally correct, though his hatred of Mudbloods had little to do with their mixed blood and all the more with their non-magical, narrow-minded relatives, who so devotedly followed their 'god' and his teachings that they would burn their own offspring at the tiniest hint of magical ability. Never mind the fact that if their god had not wished for magical beings, they would not exist, though that was if one believed him to be the creator or all things, but I digress… I merely took Slytherin's ideals out of context to fit my own plans, after all, what can one man, no matter how brilliant, achieve on his own? He could theorise and make plans and it wouldn't make a difference without people to carry them out, people who would so strongly believe, that they would give their entire fortune and put their lives on the line for that one man's dream.
Perhaps I was wrong to lure only these pure-blooded fools to my side. The ideas, what we've been fighting for, seem to have slowly been warped into something entirely different. I should rectify that soon. After the battle.
Harry Potter is waiting for me now. In many ways, he is like me. I am not blind to the way my actions have influenced his life, even when I was in roaming the earth in the form of a simple spirit. He has led a life remarkably similar to mine, and yet he still does not join me. He does not think like I do. It is boggles the mind how two people, obviously dealt the same cards in life, cannot agree on anything. Should I have allowed his parents to live? Would he have been such a magnificent opponent then? Or would his parents have been my downfall? I realise now that I acted upon a whim when I so suddenly attacked the Potters that fateful night, I had studied Divination, after all. I knew many Prophecies were self-fulfilling. And yet I attacked. Are some things really so much out of our control? Or was it chance?
No matter now. I'll ask him to join me one more time, and then we'll see. I can't falter now, no matter how things have come to be in the past, they have led me to this battle, and I shall fight. There is no turning back. Or as the Romans would say: "alia icta est". I wonder if this is how Caesar felt when he returned to Rome with his armies?
Though when I am victorious, I shall not keep a man standing behind me to whisper in my ear those reminders of mortality. I am immortal. That makes me different from the other, stronger, for mortality is a weakness easily exploited. That makes me the rightful ruler, does it not? Nature is on my side and faith has brought me this far, any soul-searching shall have to continue after I've established my new reign.
The time has come.
A bit chaotic perhaps (and short o.O !!), but I'll probably change it in a while, since just felt like writing in the middle of the night, but got sleepy soon after I started. I wanted to finish anyways, so this is what you get, I guess --' . Anyways, it's been a while and this is just a test to see if I should publish any of my other new stories (after I finish writing them of course).