Do you believe in destiny?
Most people I ask that question answer negatively. They believe destiny means control, shackles. My view has never been so limiting. We are each and every one of us a river, and our individual destinies are as riverbeds. They give us focus, structure, guidance along the natural flow of life. Just think how richer the world would be if we all believed, truly believed, that our lives are guided by an invisible hand, that our ambitions are consecrated by the Supreme Being, and then acted upon that belief?
Alas, many men wither away in their lives. Rivers turned to miserable streams that soon dry up. Others expend their lives and energies in pointless pursuit of things that are outside themselves, yet not beyond. They flood the world with themselves yet achieve nothing in the end. Tom Riddle was 71 years old when he died. Barry Winkle lived to be 755 years of age.
I was fourteen years old when I finally mustered up the courage to leave my overprotective foster parents. They were good people, a muggle husband and his witch wife who devoted themselves to providing shelter for children who needed it. I was one such child, but there was one small problem: I was a wizard. They knew of this well before I did, and decided that I would remain with them, to be homeschooled. And so they schooled me to the best of their ability, but they could not remove that feeling within me; the gnawing fear that I was missing out.
Instead of becoming the best of both worlds, I ended up too much of a wizard for muggles and too much of a muggle for wizards. I was both, yet neither. And though they did their best to embrace me, ultimately it was nothing but suffocating. I couldn't stomach the idea of living my life guided by them, to become... what? A teacher? A three–bit wizard? To be born, and then to simply exist like that... I could not abide. I felt like I could do more. So much more. And so when I was fourteen, I ran away and never returned, to ascertain my true destiny in this world.
I needed a direction; I cared not how vague it was. I snapped off a branch, tossed it in the air, and told myself I would follow the direction its end pointed towards. And when it fell, it decreed that I must go west. And west I went. From Ireland into the United States of America, like so many others before me. I could not risk enrolling in any of the schools of witchcraft and wizardry; I was afraid that they would simply turn me away, or in worst case scenario, hand me over to my foster parents. And so I drifted through the continent, my only hope was to play the cards I was dealt and play them well, so that I may seize upon an opportunity.
By my estimate, there are only about three thousand wizards in Great Britain. Yet they insist on keeping their existence a secret from the world of muggles, when they could bring their unique skills to bear. Magic and science hand in hand could manifest a new destiny for all of humanity. Planet Earth could be the centre of a mighty civilization, the greatest this burgeoning cosmos had ever known.
I had hoped the US, with its culture of winners, underdogs, rebels, would've been more accommodating to my vision. Yet wherever I went there was stagnation, much to my dismay. But I was not deterred. There I remained, and there I worked on myself in silence for ten years, until I could seize an opportunity. I set my sights upon a city, a great city which had stood for 173 years, but fell on hard times. Its people and its leaders were without a vision, incompetent, spineless. The city was plagued by crime, and rather than get rid of these criminals, they would give them food and shelter, and these criminals would exit the prisons having learned nothing, and then they would return to their old ways. When a leader is wise, strong and feared, he can govern the way he sees fit. The rulers of this city were not strong or feared, and certainly not wise. Others came in and had their way with them and the lives of common people. I, and many others, saw all this and prepared accordingly.
As the election year went on, a weary city was spiraling ever further into dissolution, so I decided to make it an example of my vision, and in so doing I would save it from disintegrating completely. My men sprang into action, all at once arrests were being made. Drug addicts were being hauled off for rehabilitation, by force if necessary, when previously they would have been ignored. The suppliers and enablers of this degeneracy I asked how many families were destroyed by their greed. They giggled but could not answer. I had them all subject to the Cruciatus treatment and they kicked and screamed even as the curse seeped in to their very souls. Their drugs I burned and their ill–gained money I returned to the families of their victims.
It was not enough. There were some criminals and small–souled demagogues who resisted, thinking this to be some kind of gang war. I introduced them to Sectumsempra and left their bodies to rot in front of the City Hall. A journalist bravely spoke up against me so I had him join the martyred thieves and peddlers of drugs. These people live off the suffering of others, they are useless to mankind. I regret nothing.
All forms of communication to and from the city I severed, so it took a while for news of my exploits to reach the muggles and the wizardkind. When that walking corpse of a president remembered my dear city still existed, he sent an underling to negotiate with me. I promptly burned his errand boy alive. When the President heard this he sent an army a hundred thousand strong to retake the city, about the size of the Union force that was deployed at Gettysburg. Flattering, but foolish. He still thought he was dealing with a mere man.
Anyways, I kidnapped the President of the United States and presented him to his rival, hoping to gain favor with the man. I asked to be given rulership of a city for one year like the consuls of old to prove my vision was viable, yet word of my deeds had already reached this would–be president and he was too shocked to accept my deal. Finally the Aurors caught up to me and I slew them all but one, yet he was the one who managed to capture me. Due to being an immigrant I was taken back to Great Britain, to be judged by my magical „brethren". So here I sit, awaiting their decision.
I have heard some very hard words spoken against me, and I expect to hear many more before the end. It amused me how, out of all the things I had done and planned to do, my greatest offence was breaching the precious Statute of Secrecy. Not interfering in the election of another country, not kidnapping the president of said country and trying to use him as a bargaining chip, not purging a city half a million strong of human refuse by either torture or death... no, the breaching of the Statute of Secrecy. I am pleased, however, that in all their rambling they have recognized one thing. That I am a most dangerous kind of „criminal": one with a vision, and nothing to lose. Indeed a cooler blooded villain never went unpunished since the days of Tom Riddle. All this, and me only 24 years old.
I have just been informed by an Auror that my sentence is death. I expected nothing less. I have nothing more to say to these pages. Except perhaps my name, since I tried so hard to leave my mark upon the world, and a declaration of defiance.
Every thing has two names, an open and a secret one. Using the open name gives it more power, using the secret one gives you power over it. Tom Riddle knew this, and so named himself Voldemort. As for me, I don't think I need any monikers, because my name is powerful enough. I am Malachi Greymist. And I believe in destiny.