There are a number of things the vast majority of the population don't know how to do, or rather, don't think of doing. This is not due to their magical or non-magical capabilities. Rather, it is to do with their lack of creativity, original thinking or intelligence. Luckily for me, I possess all of these attributes in great quantities which is why I, as far as I know, was the only person in the entirety of England who thought of training my owl to become an assassin. At the tender age of eleven years old (or at least, my vessel being such a young age), I felt rather impressed with myself. Already Penny had mastered the art of strangulation, decapitation and poisoning. All of this she was able to do and leave no trace, even remembering to shut the window she had entered through with her wing as she left.

I was staying at the Leaky Cauldron until term started. I had considered going back to Azkaban but was pretty sure that my adopted family would kill Penny, which I did not think would have boded well for my relationship with the owl. Already she was proving to be a loyal spy and assassin, far more useful than my entire band of Death Eaters put together. Not only was she intelligent and efficient unlike my old followers but she often brought me tasty snacks such as dead mice, which they had never done. I think that Tom the barman suspected that I was training my owl in the art of subterfuge because whenever I came down for meals he would say things like 'stop trying to kill the other guests with your owl', but he could never prove it was me. Although I could not send Jeff messages through my new owl as he would attempt to eat her, this did not mean we were completely unconnected. All I had to do to communicate with Jeff was to fill my mind with dark, violent thoughts and he would be able to possess me, meaning we could have a nice chat. This was rather useful as since my mind is constantly full of twisted, corrupt thoughts meaning he could pop in any time. When I wasn't training Penny I spent most of my days either in the Owl Emporium, examining birds I might be able to use as spies like Penny in a Dark Army, in Twilfit and Tattings where I was having an entire wardrobe fitted, or in the bookshop.

This of course all cost money. However, by this point I had worked out how to adapt the accio spell so that it specifically targeted my original victim, wherever he was in the world. This was incredibly useful as it meant I didn't have to sneak around like a common thief, and I also did it for the sadistic amusement value. The man was clearly either extremely rich or extremely foolish, as I had only been able to focus my charm upon his purse, so that whenever I called for it any cash in his wallet would zoom into my hands. Obviously after a few rounds of this trick I expected him to have worked out not to put the money inside his purse, but each time I called I continued to receive galleons. I bought myself silk underwear, caviar for every meal and Penny a special attack helmet and I still had money left over, which I promptly deposited into a gorgeous pair of Italian leather shoes I had been eyeing up for weeks. By the time I reached Platform 9-and-three-quarters, I was ready to face Harry Potter head on.

As I walked down the train, Penny on my shoulder, I looked for an empty carriage. Luckily, as everyone wanted to be with their friends, and the other First Years were all cramming into the same carriage in desperate attempts to form friendships for life before the end of their train journey, there were quite a few spare ones, one of which I climbed into. Jeff popped into my head. GOOD LUCK. Thank you, I responded, mentally sidestepping the swirling black hole of thought through which he communicated. Every time I had a conversation with Jeff, I loomed a little higher over the brink of insanity, but I rather enjoyed our conversations for this specific reason, as I found they gave my day a touch of spice and excitement. I HAVE LEARNED A NEW CONVERSATION TECHNIQUE he told me. I groaned. Does it include eating the other person's soul? Because you've used that one a hundred times. Jeff unpossessed me immediately without saying goodbye, presumably hurt and angry. He was training to be a therapist, something which had always been his dream. I had probably touched a sore spot, which was that he kept accidently killing his instructors: his current one was attempting to teach him conversation techniques in the hope that this would prevent Jeff from immediately killing the person he was talking to out of social anxiety and hunger. Evidently it was working, as Jeff had managed to control his violent impulses long enough to be taught by the man for more than 15 minutes.

As I sat staring out of the window, occasionally feeding Penny an owl nut (she preferred the taste of human flesh now, after her training, but I encouraged her to keep I diet full of fibre for her health), I caught sight of Harry Potter walking down the corridor, accompanied by a tall, ginger boy. I watched calmly as he walked past my carriage, his draw dropping. This was probably due to the fact that while I was wearing school robes, I had attached my dementor hood to them. Eleven years spent on Azkaban had left me with an emotional connection to my hood, in which you couldn't see my face, only a hollow pitch black. I found it had an excellent effect, primarily that it left me with a spacious free carriage I could stretch out in. Harry reached out to open my door: the red head next to him looked reluctant, but my carriage was the only one not full to the brim. I looked up irritably. I had been planning to take advantage of my time on the empty carriage to train Penny in more techniques.

'Um, hello', said Harry. 'It's nice to meet you, I'm Harry-'

'We've met before' I said. We stared at one another in silence for a while, until Harry's eyes lit with recognition.

'Draco! Sorry, I couldn't see your face through that hood.'

'It's really creepy', said the ginger, scowling in my direction. I had been planning on drawing back my hood so I could see the two of them better (its only disadvantage was that I was so hidden within the depths of my hood I could only see them through a narrow tunnel), but due to that insult I determined to keep it on for a while longer.

'Red hair, hand-me-down robes…you must be a Weasley' I said to him, inclining my head in his direction. He looked rather offended by my comment. This was what irritated me about Weasleys. In my lifetime I had met a great number of them, unsurprising as they populated nearly half the globe. In my youth I had considered making a spotting guide, but had never gotten round to completing it as my career as the Dark Lord had taken off shortly after. 'Look', I said, 'if you're going to get upset by my pointing out the defining characteristics of your family then maybe you shouldn't have been born a Weasley. It's your own fault'.

…..

As Harry and Ron Weasley began the process of forming a heart-warming friendship which would last their entire lives, I watched the other children through the carriage windows, all of whom were trying to subtly walk past to catch a glimpse of the famous Harry Potter. I carefully scanned their faces for any traces of malevolence, hatred or cunning. The purpose of such an exercise was to work out who my enemies were before getting to Hogwarts, so I could get a head start and annihilate them. I had assumed that many of them would, like me, harbour the desire to murder the boy so they could rise to a position of power as Dark Lords, obviously meaning I would have to weed them out and kill them so I could take their spot. However, while I was sure there were many children with such ambitions, they cleverly disguised their expressions to ones of awe, interest and innocence so I couldn't identify them. Of course, it did also raise the theory that the entirety of the student body was planning to kill Harry and had formulated a plan so to not seem suspicious, but I was forced to abandon this idea as even Dumbledore, incompetent as he was, would probably notice if I killed them all.

I continued to search my fellow student's faces as we trooped out of the train and into the horrible little boats Hogwarts continued to use to chunt the First Years to the castle, despite the fact that this nearly always resulted in them falling in, crying in terror or catching hypothermia, often all three. I only ceased my search once the sorting began. I had already placed Harry in Hufflepuff in my mind, and so was surprised to see him sorted into Gryffindor, although he was under the hat a long time so had probably had to fight the hat on its original decision to place him in the worst house. Smugly, I walked up to the hat.

'Hmmm….. a source of darkness and evil lurks within you, boy.'

'No it doesn't', I replied irritably. Obviously it did, but as the hat was on Dumbledore's side I wasn't going to confirm its statement. 'And I already know what house I want to be in. Just put me in Slytherin'.

'No, I don't think I will. Although the headmaster seems to think differently, being evil isn't a characteristic of being a member of Slytherin, and your only ambition seems to be to defeat a rival'. I stared, startled at the Slytherin table. Could it be possible that all of these 11-18 year olds weren't sadistic murderers with a penchant for torture and mindless cruelty? Obviously the hat was wrong. Everyone knew the Slytherins were psychopaths. Even Dumbledore agreed.

The hat was still speaking, and I tuned back in. 'However, not only do you have brains, but you also have a perception of the world which teeters between genius and insanity. This is a defining trait of …. RAVENCLAW!'. To my shock, I realised that I wasn't upset about joining a different house to my original one. As I walked to the table of smiling faces, drawing back my hood, I began to plot. Being sorted into Ravenclaw could be just the stroke of luck I needed. So many young minds, bright and inquisitive, ready for me to channel into a cult following around myself.

When I considered the character of Draco Malfoy/Voldemort, I was originally considering just putting Voldemort into Draco's body. However, I thought that might be a bit boring and then considered that, in the possession, their personalities mixed. While Draco is a little shit, unlike Voldemort he isn't fundamentally evil, meaning that the two natures have morphed to create a Draco constantly on the brink of insanity. We can also see hints of Draco through his desire to be fashionable and disdain for red heads, although being possessed by Voldemort and growing up on Azkaban has made his stylistic choices questionable.

I'll see you in the next update, hope you all have a very happy 2022!