A/N: Hey! This was written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) Cosmology Task #: Write a God/Goddess!AU.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights go to J. K. Rowling.
Word Count: 632
Tom twirled his fingers in the air idly, watching the magic sparks follow his movements with thinly veiled boredom. There was nothing truly interesting happening on the earth, which he felt was really a pity. Mortals were amusing, and it always interested him to see what his most devout followers would be doing. Ever since that Bellatrix woman had been murdered by one of Albus' followers—and not a particularly skilled one, at that—entertainment had come in short supply.
Sitting up straighter in his marble throne, Tom decided that something really needed to be done.
He turned his head to his left, just enough that he could barely see his servant out of the corner of his eye. "Wormtail," he drawled, "come here."
The sound of frantic footsteps reached his ears, and the corner of Tom's mouth just barely twitched upwards. His face was once again set in its disapproving glare by the time Peter Pettigrew scurried over to kneel at his feet.
"You wanted to see me, my Lord?" Apprehension shone in his eyes, along with a desperation. Tom almost smiled; what a lovely combination it was.
"Yes. Wormtail, tell me: who are the most devout of my followers, past and present? I wish to...honor them."
Watery blue eyes blinked in confusion. "Forgive me, my lord, but what do you care of your future followers? You are the god of the past—aren't past followers more revered in your kingdom?"
Tom laughed in his chilling, deep way. "I do not expect a lowly servant such as yourself to understand, Wormtail, but the past holds the key to the future. The present is inconsequential; it lasts for a moment and then disappears forever. The future and the past, however, are infinite, and they always will be. Albus may think his realm is the most significant of them all—he'll spout all sorts of nonsense about hope and change at you—but the past has much more value. The past holds the truth; it is unchanging. It predicts the future and helps mortals shape the present. By looking at the past, by observing my past followers, I can predict humanity's next struggle." He locked his gaze onto Wormtail's, glaring daggers at the cowering man. "Go ask the high priest for a comprehensive list of my most loyal followers. I require it."
Wormtail nearly fell over in his hurry to bow. "Yes, Lord Voldemort, of course." He scampered off, desperate to please but too naive to realize he never would.
Now that he was alone, Tom walked over to the green flame that always flickered at the back of the throne room. It had been lit millenia ago, when he first came into existence, and it hadn't gone out yet. Tom smiled. If he had anything to say about it, it never would.
He reached out a hand and touched the flame, nearly caressing it. Grabbing one tongue, he pulled it out and cradled it in the palm of his hand. "Go to the one they call Delphi. Feed her loneliness, her rage, her sorrow. Show her the path to her own glory and let nothing but the light of my right enter her mind. Go to the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange."
He blew on the flame, and it flew out of the window and down into the mortal realm.
Tom's smile grew. He'd like to see Albus try to stop this one. His champion was past his prime, and there was nothing like a young, impressionable mind for causing destruction.
He sat back down in his throne before Wormtail could come back and catch him breaking the ancient laws. Wormtail wasn't good at keeping his mouth shut, and Tom did have a reputation to uphold.
He chuckled. In due time, things would finally get interesting again.