QL, Wigtown Wanderers, Beater 1, Round 13. Theme: Leprechaun: Write about someone who thrives on manipulating or cheating others. Prompts: Getting down on one's knees. And Role; Spy.

Word Count: 1003

Betas: Aya, Dina

Voldemort eyed up his followers as he took in a long breath. It had been years since he had a physical form, since he was defeated by the Potters on Halloween so long ago. That rat, Peter Pettigrew, had set up his return well. Little did the Order know that they hadn't truly defeated him, nor did they know his followers had just brought him back. Voldemort wasn't completely happy with how long it had taken them, after all, it had been years, over nine years. Feeding on unicorn blood wasn't the way he ever saw himself living.

With long strides, getting used to his new form, he approached one of his masked followers and held out his hand.

"Arm," he ordered. Taking that same Death Eater's wand, he pressed it down firmly against the Dark Mark on his forearm and summoned the rest of his inner circle. It was time he claimed his place as the leader and ensured they all remembered why they had chosen to follow him in the first place.

With satisfaction, he watched as they all dropped down to their knees as they arrived one by one. Most of them weren't here by choice, he knew, but he loved controlling others.

Now it was time for the whole world to learn to bend their knees to him. Voldemort smiled - he knew exactly where to start.

It wouldn't be easy. Nothing worthwhile ever was. Voldemort settled into his new headquarters and watched absently as the Death Eaters shuffled into their seats around his table. He was at the head of it, of course. They had their places, their uses, but Lord Voldemort always knew best.

He waved away their suggestions about what to do with the Potters - the only people who had so far survived him - and began his planning.

Because it didn't matter: the Potters had survived once, twice, thrice, four times - but never again.

Voldemort relished in the smooth but slimy feeling across his hand as Nagini snaked around his shoulders. It was a very important day for him, he would be using the connection he had with the Potter boy to manipulate him into walking straight into a trap. He had tested his ability a few times with great success, enjoying every single time the boy listened to him.

He had never shied away from the long game. Planning. Researching. To him, it made the kill more exhilarating and satisfying.

Closing his eyes, he entered Potter's mind. It was almost overpowering to feel the boy's excitement. It was a similar feeling to when he had been the same age - after all, the first train ride to Hogwarts was exciting for everybody. Voldemort would have to wait a few hours before he could tell if the eleven-year-old would heed his advice.

Before breaking the connection, Voldemort planted a few targeted ideas into the boy's head. He knew he was listening and his cockiness about having control of the Sorting Hat might be enough for him to choose the greatest house there was.

A few more hours and he'd know.

All he had to do was be patient.

Voldemort grew tired the more he was whispering into Potter's mind. It would be worth it if it worked.

Harry Potter. He would recognise that voice anywhere. Professor McGonagall.

Show them who you are. Choose the right house. Think of your future.

Slytherin!

Voldemort's lips turned upwards into a cunning sneer. He had manipulated the eleven-year-old who helped take him down into joining the house he controlled. All he had to do was wait for Malfoy to befriend him and lead him into his trap away from his parents.

Now that he had completed that part of the plan, it was time to move on to more planning. He would ensure the Ministry of Magic was infiltrated and everybody was ready to strike on his mark, it was just a matter of time now. It was time to purify the magical world once and for all.

Months later, Voldemort was pleased that his follower's son had succeeded in befriending the Potter boy. But would the eleven-year-old be able to get the boy isolated away from Hogwarts and his family? That was yet to be determined.

And if not… Well, Lord Voldemort had ways of making things go correctly.

Voldemort found his opportunity to get the boy away from protection earlier than he expected. Malfoy would definitely be rewarded greatly.

"Mr Potter," he spoke as he approached the two first years in the woods near Potter's house. "Mr Malfoy."

"Who are you?" Potter demanded.

A smirk crossed over Voldemort's lips at the boy's confidence. "You would have been a good Gryffindor like your parents."

Malfoy began stepping away, utter fear on his face. "Leave us alone."

Voldemort gracefully pulled out his wand and loved watching how Potter followed suit. Though utter disappointment filled him when Malfoy ran off - he would teach that boy to be a man. He would not accept a pureblood to act like that. "Do you know who I am?"

"A bad man."

"I am Lord Voldemort."

Potter's stance faltered and he visibly tensed. "You - You can't be. My parents defeated you!"

With a smirk and a wave of his wand, Voldemort said the two words that brought him the greatest feeling: "Avada Kedavra." The eleven-year-old didn't even have time to respond before falling down to the ground.

Voldemort felt part of him die inside too, but he was still strong and invincible with the Horcruxes he had created.

He approached the boy's body with glee. The prophecy was wrong. No child could take down the Dark Lord. Now, nobody would be able to stand in his way.

Casually flicking his wand, he levitated the body and manipulated it out of the woods. From the shadows he laid it down outside the Potter's home before summoning his signature symbol into the sky above before leaving.

That day, the 21st of December, 1991 marked his return and world dominance.