Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own imagination. The characters depicted here all belong to J.K. Rowling except for those that I have fabricated for the story's purpose. The song lyric belongs to Kelly Clarkson and company.
Author's Note: This character never reveals his name, but you should be able to figure out who he is. This is more of a character sketch than anything, but there you are. Enjoy.
Author's Note, Part II: Please find it within yourselves to leave a review! I'm not picky; you can recite verses from "The Jabberwocky" if you so desire. Just please let me know that you're reading.
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You never thought of anyone else
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It is only by extreme fortune, or perhaps misfortune, as the case may be, that I find myself staring at this wondrous relic that lies open and active before me. For the past hour, I have amused myself with activities I thought that I had left with a younger version of myself: checking to see if students (including Potter, although I needn't have worried, for after our little encounter he eventually returned to Gryffindor Tower) were skulking about the corridors, seeing who Peeves had decided to grace with his chaotic presence today (surely not me, ever since he was reminded what I did to nosy eavesdroppers), and even watching the various staircases rotate around the castle.
This sort of activity, seemingly aimless to the fool's eye, was one I performed with both eagerness and trepidation. At first, I doubted the artifact's usefulness; it most likely didn't work as it was supposed to, or only functioned for a short instance, like a mediocre wizard's conjuring spell. Never before have I been more enthused to be proven incorrect. When my Master succeeds in his resurrection and releases me from this despicable impersonation act, he will be most pleased to possess yet another eye within Hogwarts Castle.
I could scarcely believe it when my Master last came to release me from servitude. Father was no match for a man of his prowess, even considering the terrible form he must maintain now, and then, to be able to live. But live my Master did and does, scrabbling away from the jaws of Death triumphant!
He released me from Father's Imperius Curse and informed me that He had deliberately sought me out, seeing as I was the only one who remained loyal to Him (and also intelligent enough to escape the as of yet untouchable fortress that was Azkaban, although I admit to myself that it was not my own doing, entirely). I immediately proclaimed my worthlessness and my sincere sorrow that I could not have been more useful to Him, and He did find it within His fancy to punish me for that. It was sweet, sweet torture to be underneath His Cruciatus again. Nobody uses the Curse like He does; nobody else can get me to scream like that.
It was invigorating, and He knew that.
When I had a moment to myself to reflect, I found myself awed that my Master would seek me out, above all the others—above slithery Lucius, who never allowed himself to be caught except in the most innocuous of situations; above crafty Severus, the only one of us daring enough to worm his way into Dumbledore's pathetically weak heart; above the talented, yet imprisoned, Lestranges, who both worked with frightful efficiency, especially regarding prisoners and those to be tortured. Never once did He think that another servant, not even the disgusting Pettigrew, could perform the duties He required of me with the finesse He so obviously wished.
It has not been an easy road: detaining my most respected nemesis, Alastor Moody; leading the guileless and brainless Potter (How could he have ever overwhelmed my Master? The whelp possesses barely enough sense to fill an eggcup!) into and through the Tournament thus far; resisting from cursing Severus and Igor on sight for their treachery (Severus for not returning immediately to my Master's side when he so obviously knew my Master could not have been slain by such a foolish little child, and Igor for deserting us during the Liverpool raids); and not slaughtering the imprudent Malfoy brat or the gormless Longbottom boy for their inability to take a hint! How laborious it has been guiding them like simple cattle along their merry little way without even a crook or a dog with which to correct them!
Nevertheless, I shall continue to perform this task for my Master, for He demands it and He has faith that I will complete the task with my incomparable acumen.
After all, I am the Chosen One.