The Reflection
The chamber was dark. Dark with a creeping, thickening kind of darkness that feeds on shadows and grows bolder with every passing second. Yet one of the corners of the room shone with a cool, silvery light. Standing there, in front of a large, ornate mirror, silhouetted sharply against the radiance, was Voldemort. Looking at the reflection in the silvery surface with a strange expression, he appeared suspended in time. It seemed as if he was trying to pierce himself with his own stare, nail himself down, control himself. Moments passed, minutes were measured but nothing changed - pale skin reflected as sickly in the clear surface as it had before, dark red eyes gleamed malevolently with a continuity that was somehow unbearable. He stood and gazed into the darkness of his soul.
-Who am I? - he asked the reflection, no trace of the words ever escaping his thin, snake-like mouth. The mirror did not reply, as if it was mocking him, teasing with a perfect cruelty.
-Who was I? - a memory flashed through his mind, a different reflection, a different him. Deep, enticing, green eyes, waves of smooth, black hair encircling his handsome but somehow predatory face and the cold smile of what's yet to come. The perfect riddle.
-I demand an answer!
Heavy silence set in the thick air of the room, leaving only the whispers of shadows and the wind singing outside. His unnaturally thin fingers rested on the chilly surface of the mirror and started tracing the features of a face that had altered so greatly: the thin, almost non-existent nose, bloodless lips, deep circles under the gleaming eyes and the skeletal structure of the cheekbones.
-Foolish man... There never was anything... in me.
Now, he had an impression of his own reflection smirking at him, with an aura of disdain, an aura of superiority which he so often used when looking at others. This time, it was his turn to be on the receiving end. He winced and turned his gaze away from the pallid figure standing before him.
-Not even a trace... - the whisper was more of a snaky hiss, than words spoken softly and yet it had a strange introspective quality to it.
-I remember well... the unbearable emptiness. I remember the freezing cold of my gaze turned against me in the basilisk's eyes. How long ago was that?
The mirror was not the Mirror of Erised and it couldn't show him his heart's desire. But it could show him something else... himself.
-Was he right in the end? To achieve eternal life is to bring death upon oneself?
The doubt hung in the air, enclosing him and nagging, the surety of his former notions dissolving in the silence.
-Enough! There is only one path to greatness and I am walking it. No memories, no looking back, no hesitation!
He took out his wand in one swift movement, swished it muttering strange foreboding sounds and then the glass broke into hundreds and thousands of little pieces. When he looked at those little, silvery mirrors lying on the dark floor of the room, he saw a hundred and a thousand reflections of himself, looking at him with gleaming red eyes. The hiss that came out of his snaky mouth was angry, loud, terrifying.
-Leave me alone!
Another swish of the wand and the mirror disappeared; together with the silvery brightness that not so long ago was the only source of light.
Now, there was only darkness left.