(Tom Riddle/Voldemort)
They looked so happy together. Her pale, pasty hands running through his hair like it were a maze. Her deep brown eyes staring into his, such love contained within them, she looked as if she would do anything to ensure his safety.
Potter! He's so close. I can almost touch him, touch the boy, "the boy who lived". The platform filled with filthy little mud-bloods. Just one flick of my wand. Just one and they would all perish. Perish at the hand of The Dark Lord. Such an honour, to greet the glory of death by my doing. They are all parasites; weak feeding from the strong, looking for our guidance and protection. The world has gone mad welcoming this vermin into our sanctuary of pure blood. I am growing weaker and weaker the longer I stay here. But I cannot leave. Not yet. Potter must die this year. He must die today.
Her laugh filled the air around me; it was as if she were the only other person upon the platform. I was oblivious to my apparent starring; I took in every single little detail about her, every freckle upon her face, every red hair that blew astray in the wind. She had to be a wild conjuration by Potter. Nothing could be this perfect.
Stop it. Just stop Voldemort. Focus. Focus on the boy. Focus on Potter. This part of me should be long gone, it was locked away, and it can't be coming back. I cannot be him again; his form was too weak, to pathetic looking. I cannot be Tom Riddle once more. I am now the most feared wizard of all time, a legend, a god. I cannot let that all disappear all because of a...a girl.
A trolley buckled my knee slightly as a red-headed family made their way past me towards the beautiful girl. A boy, looking to be of Potter's age, carried a rat upon his shoulder while he shovelled a box of Red Vines into his mouth. The rat had an air of familiarity to it. Wormtail. My faithful servant.
My idiotic gullible servant. Perhaps he is soon to complete his true purpose, infiltrating the world of Harry Potter. Potter would never suspect an innocent family pet to be the end of him. The end of his pathetic, worthless young life. The end is nigh Mr Potter, the end is nigh.
That's it. That's the answer. The girl, she will be my puppet, my slave. She will lure him to save her, and then, and only then will he be mine.