piece by piece, BITE BY BITE he takes of the world -- true to his nature as a scorned god; and the likes of harry potter and albus dumbledore could not save them now. for the dark lord had done as he promised, returned from the dead a miserable, vengeful creature. more dangerous than he had ever been, shed of whatever humanity remained, reptilian, NOW, his soul laid bare.
patience had been forced upon him, never quite his strong suit, though practised in years passed. the decade spent as a mean ghost, the vilest parasite to his beloved, had forced him to reconsider. now he tastes the inaction like wine, laying in wait like the serpent he had fully become. dumbledore knows, voldemort knew he did, equal parts cunning and fool. if there was one to read the signs it was his greatest foe. and tom revels in the joy to have taken the boy of prophecy off the stage -- the power of love did nothing in the end, dumbledore was pawnless. he, however, the greatest warlock of his age and era, had his pieces in rows, well placed in the world. gold and influnece, spies and politicians, they all flock to him willingly or not.
he had never cared for loyality and believe in his cause -- so long there was obedience.
lipless mouth twitches, as if he might offer a smile, though he doesn't. ❝ good -- very good. ❞ he remembered hogwart's lithic halls as joyful, the sounds of children laughing as they learned. never his. nary bequeathed tools, recanted and unique replications of ancient magic -- they were not for anyone else; they were his now, NO MORE. and they would be his again, in time, for the dark lord gathers and collects followers and trinkets not unlike a magpie.
it's nagini who tilts her head, who gives the gentlest of hisses as the last shred of himself that remained -- that might shed a tear for the thought of his former home bleeding dry. if voldemort were to put more thought into her potential concerns, he might realize himself a nuisance to the serpentine leviathan. ❝ they are wise, dare i give credit, they wish to live. ❞ a bony hand glides over emerald scales as he ponders; gently scratching and massaging in an act of worship so saccharine sweet, one would not dare think it possible from lord voldemort. ❝ they will be replaced, of course. . . ❞ BY HIS OWN.
the silent tone of his voice -- never apparent if he talked to his servants; the serpentine queen, who hissed back regardless, or if the dark lord had been lost in the abyssal black of his own mind.
the serpent lifted her great head, her maw opened in a sharp hiss, ever briefly exposing venomous fangs the size of daggers, glinting so gently in the candlelight. tom smiled now, a terrible sight, as the she-beast lowered her head into his opened palms, SHE IS HEAVY, her head alone. but he knows she'd rest lightly in his hands if he so wished for it. he had promised to give nagini draco's mother or father, whoever was more convenient, if the boy failed one too many times to take dumbledore's life -- the snake whispered insistently. ❝ i take it draco malfoy has yet to succeed in the task i gave him -- ? ❞
