A.N : do you know how annoying it is to write " I, Lord Voldemort" or "My, Lord Voldemort's" or some similar crap all the Fricking time? (get it? fricking time, fricking existence?. I'll shut up now.)
Yes! Finally I, Lord Voldemort, have acquired the position that the old fool kept denying me, Lord Voldemort. The fabled, most impressive post of the DADA professor.
Even if it is at the back of Quirrel's head.
You ask how I, Lord Voldemort, got glued to his bald scalp?
By possessing him you idiot mortal.
Even if I, Lord Voldemort admit that it is not the most convenient or comfortable place to reside in, I, Lord Voldemort have to because that fake stuttering idiot of a man almost got caught while, ahm, acquiring, the philosopher's stone from gringotts. If not for my, Lord Voldemort's brilliance in the dark arts, black arts really, I, Lord Voldemort and the idiot would have been stuck in the vault for who knows how long.
And of course I, Lord Voldemort wouldn't deem fit to inform Quirrel about how the black arts he performed are going to not so slowly seep away his life force.
Ah well. What's done is done.
No need to dwell on the past.
Except when I, Lord Voldemort, am going to slowly murder the old fool. And the Potter boy. And to manipulate people. And to force my, Lord Voldemort's authority on them. And to - well you get the idea. If you don't, then I, Lord Voldemort do not care.
Go Crucio yourself for the insolence of seeing things from my, Lord Voldemort's mind.