Sins of Trust
I have been, and will continue to be? One who is most loyal to his beliefs. It maybe what leads to my inevitable death, but a martyr I shall be for the voices of those who do not believe that there is a place for Mudbloods and their kind in the Wizarding world. Magic is a beautiful thing and it flows through us like the very blood that gives us life. It is why they do not belong, they're tainted with the world and its miseries in a way that is hard to comprehend. My time spent both at the side of the Dark Lord and then under the influence of the Polyjuice potion that gave me the ability to become Alastor Moody showed me clearly that they're polluting our world with their tech-no-logies or however it is pronounced. I do not need to learn it as it serves no purpose in my mind. They use something known as ‘eckeltricity’ to create monstrous things that clearly are unnecessary and make them truly lazy and obtuse. Their ideologies are tedious at best and childish at their worst. Therefore, to bring such base and debased beings into our world cannot be allowed. My Father, although loyal to the laws of the Ministry and Wizengamot was as all pure blooded patriarchs are, most loyal to his son and heir as was my late Mother who lost her mind within the cold walls of Azkaban so that I may regain my freedom of sorts. That freedom had enabled me to return back to the Dark Lord and instill fear into hundreds of witches and wizards who had been foolish enough to believe that the lives they had been living was appropriate. I had managed to convince all that I was held within the cold walls of Azkaban only to receive the Dementor's’ Kiss thanks to that naive and somewhat idiotic Cornelius Fudge - but that once again? Hadn’t been me, it had been one of the Dark Lord’s absentee followers who had abandoned the cause and I had fled. Of course, the knowledge of what I had succeeded in doing not once? But twice failed to reach the Daily Prophet and other newspapers because it showed that the Ministry was as incompetent as they had always been. Perhaps, they should have insisted that Albus Dumbledore become the Minister of Magic prior to his death at the hands of the betrayer, Severus Snape. Slimy bastard should have been tortured for what he did but I wasn’t able to be alongside my Master at the Battle of Hogwarts much to my sorrow. How I would have enjoyed ripping out the hearts of the Mudbloods and foul creatures who had been born of magic and Muggle. But necessity called for me to escape the country and I had succeeded in doing so until the time was right - I refuse to disclose my temporary location when escaping from the Ministry and their infuriatingly determined Aurors as it would taint my being but I shall only say this? I was all too happy to return to the home I had felt safe and content in at various times of my life - especially as no one was aware of anyone inhabiting the somewhat large and antiquated residence that had been home to mystery and death for decades and left those in the village afraid of the ghosts who lingered. I devoured books on various practises of magic, investing time into how I could remove the level of insanity that I knew lingered below the surface of my mind believing that it had been the time spent within Azkaban after my Father’s betrayal that had triggered the fragility of my mind. Add to it; the decade of the enforced Imperious Curse upon my being and it was no wonder that I showed every sign of a madman... It was no wonder, that I looked to anyone who stood back and said that those not born to pure magic were to be the ones to save us. However. As much as I looked to Lord Voldemort to restore the Wizarding World to one to be proud of, I wondered if it was partially a fuck you to the Muggle Father whom he had murdered and then whose bones had brought him back. Voldemort used his Muggle heritage as and when it suited him to bring about what he desired and that abuse of family is one that is looked down upon within the witches and wizards of pure heritage. … Which was why I stood with the Lestrange brothers who weren’t blind to what the Dark Lord was. Unlike Bellatrix who I swore wanted to kneel at his feet and ask the heretic how he wanted her to jump or whether his boots should be licked. She was one to say emotions clouded judgement when living solely by the emotion of infatuation from one who saw her and the rest of us as tools in his games against Dumbledore. I do not have loyalties that can be swayed. Nor do I have revenge guiding me because such things will only lead to the misfortune to fall all who are left vacant in the cells below ground and against the crashing waves against Azkaban’s grey tower. What I do possess is a clarity of thought and process, and I am mildly amused as I relax by the open fire on this cold night; that no one is aware of my existence. The greatest minds in the Wizarding world of England and Europe as a whole are going about their daily business believing that chaos and darkness is gone - it has not I assure you for it lingers in the hearts of those who blame others for their untold miseries. …. and I have always enjoyed playing with marionettes… especially those with the bright smiles and innocent eyes. Chuckling softly, my fingers slip over the soft edges of worn diaries taking in information and the details of charms and hexes that will ensure I am safe when I return from the shadows reborn with a face that none shall fully recall… A variant of the disillusionment charm will ensure none recall me if they encounter no matter how long they are in my presence. It’s too easy… but I do like the simplicity of survival… The flutter of wings distracts me from a page of the diary I am currently researching information from, the wizard I had procured it from being one to use fifty words in place of ten; and I see an owl whose body is drenched setting within the alcove of the broken window. I recognise it of course; I’m not likely to have unwanted mail arrive in this bleak location but I am reticent to approach incase the bird has been tampered with by anyone who is curious as to what an owl would be bringing to an area not known for magical beings.. The bird calls for me as it has been trained to do so by myself and the sender of my mail. And with a nod, he kicks off the scrolled paper so that I may see the untampered with seal of the long died out Gaunt family. A family I can assure you were ones that should have been burnt by those who see Muggles who learnt of how nature could heal a soul and the body of a broken creature.. solely for the betrayal of a heart to a pitifully stupid Muggleborn. All things are to ensure that none know the truth, none but one and even he often finds himself stripped of memory. “You never fail me do you Little Stag, now what do we have here…” There was lists of information, and an amusing recollection of how that foolish chit had broken not one pureblood, but two.. Hmmm perhaps I should interfere in that little menage? Laughing softly, I returned to my book after sending my reply instructing that all should continue as it should - and I would tear them all apart, and I’d ensure they all received the kiss I was sentenced to endure… It was such a shame, that there wouldn’t be a hero in our world anymore when I was finished with them - nor would there be any chance of their being a continuation of that bastardised family when I was done with each and every of my little pawns.