It wasn't supposed to happen this way. The boy wasn't supposed to get away. I was supposed to kill him. I have ridiculed myself in front of my deatheaters so many times. That Potter has always made me look bad.
The first time I had disappeared I was to come back of course. Was there anyone out there that truly thought the dark lord would not return? Those people are fools and weak. My first attempt failed, but to no matter. No person was there to laugh at me. All witnesses were dead except Potter and Dumbledore. And everyone knew they were in their own league.
That damned Malfoy. Lucious Malfoy a useful deatheater because of his connections in to the ministry decided to distribute my plan earlier than I had expected leaving disastrous results. He would pay but, no matter I still hadn't a body to reside in. But poor Pettigrew, forced to flee from those he once called friends dared to join me.
His weakness was love. All of their weaknesses are the same. They all can love for since they have split their souls in to multiple amounts from mass murderings, they have been able to stitch it back together with love. And while Narcissa always has someone, love has its own weakness too.
And below me, below me and at my feet lies the unmoving, ever still body of Ronald Weasly, Harry Potters best friend. Luring him here was not difficult. The fat greedy pig came for money. Of course he did not know it was me luring him under false pretences at the time, but as soon as he realized that I am who I am he attempted to use himself as a bargaining tool. The fool.
"He won't come if he knows me dead. Hold me hostage and he will come to rescue me."
But I was not to be fooled by the boy's antics. I killed him fast; see I knew the Potter boy would come to avenge his friends' death. And sure enough Potter came not but thirty minutes later on thestrals. I wouldn't waste time on the boy now, no that had been my previous mistake. I didn't let him have any last words; I did not give him a chance to defend himself. I didn't even torture him.
I just said it. It just slipped out of my mouth at easily as ice. I laughed; but I heard an echo of my own voice. It had not belonged to me. It had belonged to the Potter boy. You see my killing curse had hit the thestral. Potter had taken this most opportune moment to mimic my actions. This was the last time he humiliated me amongst my minions, because it was the last time I died.
I had gone through seven horcruxes. And now here I am. Telling you how the boy Potter won out in the end, but isn't that how it always goes? Good side wins, the dark side vanquished? But I had not left without my prize. Clutched in my grasp was Weasly's life. His soul. I had taken the reason Harry fought the battle. So although Harry won, in the end I was triumphant.