The day had passed much the same as any other day. He was mildly conflicted as he had sat upon his throne, pondering the chessboard in front of his eyes and what his next move would be. That’s all this was at its heart, a game of chess between two masters skilled in their craft. They had been playing this game for years, his dark pieces taking out pawn after pawn, consolidating his power base. The rules were different from standard chess though. For every white pawn that was lost, another took its place, a seemingly endless reserve of pawns desperate to defend a corrupt and twisted system that they believed benefited them but truly did no such thing. The spark that would set the world aflame, reducing all to ash but he and his followers who would then build the new world order and all would prosper. The muggles were disgusting and they had their place, sub human creatures who qualified only by virtue of unfortunately shared genetic characteristics. Although he would never have admitted it to his followers, the mudblood’s had always been a point of intrigue for him. He had experimented for many years to try and discover their secrets, how they held magic in their veins but he had been unsuccessful. It seemed that even he, the great Lord Voldemort who had plundered the treasures from the deepest recesses of magic, still had more to learn. He would be lying if he claimed the prospect did not excite him. Magic was his oldest friend, a constant companion and it was through magic that he had realised his potential. It had elevated him from the moment of his birth, he had felt it singing in his heart but he had not recognised the song for what it was till he had been visited by Dumbledore.
Tom’s lips twitched as he suppressed a sneer, contempt for the great power that was selfishly hoarded by the chess master, puppet master. Tom rewarded his followers, he taught the most faithful and devoted magic the likes of which the world had not seen for centuries. Dumbledore inspired love yes, the power that he preached was the greatest of all. Even love could be harnessed though, it could be used to achieve one’s ends, look at the circumstances of his own birth. Although she had not been a strong witch, even Merope Gaunt had been able to harness the power of love and twist it to ensnare the muggle whose name he unfortunately shared. Tom. It was far too ordinary and it did not befit a person of the grandeur and stature that was Lord Voldemort. Still, he referred to himself by the name only in his thoughts, a habit that he had not had the time to shake. It enraged him every time Dumbledore refused to comply with his demands and called him ‘Tom’. It had been used initially to try to appeal to the purer heart within him but no such thing existed, if ever it had existed. The world could not be rewritten by love and purity of soul, only a steel heart could do what was needed for the greatness and glory of wizard kind who had been subjugated far too long because of unfounded fear of the muggle. The establishment had turned its back on its own people when the statue of secrecy had been introduced and Tom felt repulsion rising within him at the thought. They had been betrayed. He would never betray his people.
Tom was oblivious to the bowing and scraping of his followers, lower level death eaters who had clamoured desperately to join his ranks. They had not yet proven themselves worthy enough for his attention. He barely listened to them unless they brought him important and useful information. Initially, there had been a difference of opinion as to what was important and useful, something that Tom had corrected quickly and efficiently through punishment. As the old phrase went, the carrot and the stick, both were necessary for efficiency. It was at this point that his ears detected the whispering of reptilian skin sliding against the wood of the floor. A hush took over the room and Tom hissed in greeting.
Nagini, my precious one. What news do you bring me today?
Tom reached his hand out in a manner that was almost absent minded, crooking his finger in a gesture that indicated his desire for her to come to him. As much as she would enjoy snapping at the heels of his followers and as amusing as it would be, she had been apart from him far too long for his comfort.
