I heard her leave, footfalls fading away from the bed, and then the faint creaking and slamming of a door. Then something else, a low grunt, and I was unceremoniously snapped shut and shoved into what I could only assume was a drawer.
I had poured my soul out to them. I had told them everything I could hope to tell them. I had spun out my story as much as I could.
And they had believed it.
I can't help but laugh. I wished for once in a long while that I had a proper body just so I could appreciate the elation, the sensation, the explosion of laughter that fell out in wasted droplets of ink against my closed pages.
Oh, Merlin, they are such fools!
Of course I had to tell them who I was; if they looked up Tom Riddle they might have the sense to work backwards and find out the truth of my existence, and then they would never believe me for keeping that secret. But it hardly mattered. I had learned over the course of nearly the full school year how trusting and tolerant this group was, how clever they thought themselves to be, how dear Holly Potter, bane of my future existence, put so much stock in her ability to read people because of her twisted form of Legelimency.
But I, Lord Voldemort, ambassador of death, am a moderately accomplished Occlumens, to say the very least, and even more than that I am in full control of my emotions. I could project whatever I knew she would want to feel. I could manipulate her without even needing to use words.
And the fools bought it.
I'm also disappointed that representatives of my proud House would be so... naive. But I suppose it's only a slipping of standards. Salazar never would have allowed a group so needy and soft to defile the name of his great House.
When I return, I'll see to it that everything is fixed again.
So thank you, Holly Potter and your band of meek little serpents. Your charm and trust is so much appreciated. Your secrets are, as well.
For you have spoken to me throughout the year. You have poured your hopes and dreams and darkness into me throughout the year. I can feel your energy course within me. I can use it.
When next you wish to speak to me, Girl Who Lived, you will be mine.
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Date: 2010-08-01 10:09 pm (UTC)I had poured my soul out to them. I had told them everything I could hope to tell them. I had spun out my story as much as I could.
And they had believed it.
I can't help but laugh. I wished for once in a long while that I had a proper body just so I could appreciate the elation, the sensation, the explosion of laughter that fell out in wasted droplets of ink against my closed pages.
Oh, Merlin, they are such fools!
Of course I had to tell them who I was; if they looked up Tom Riddle they might have the sense to work backwards and find out the truth of my existence, and then they would never believe me for keeping that secret. But it hardly mattered. I had learned over the course of nearly the full school year how trusting and tolerant this group was, how clever they thought themselves to be, how dear Holly Potter, bane of my future existence, put so much stock in her ability to read people because of her twisted form of Legelimency.
But I, Lord Voldemort, ambassador of death, am a moderately accomplished Occlumens, to say the very least, and even more than that I am in full control of my emotions. I could project whatever I knew she would want to feel. I could manipulate her without even needing to use words.
And the fools bought it.
I'm also disappointed that representatives of my proud House would be so... naive. But I suppose it's only a slipping of standards. Salazar never would have allowed a group so needy and soft to defile the name of his great House.
When I return, I'll see to it that everything is fixed again.
So thank you, Holly Potter and your band of meek little serpents. Your charm and trust is so much appreciated. Your secrets are, as well.
For you have spoken to me throughout the year. You have poured your hopes and dreams and darkness into me throughout the year. I can feel your energy course within me. I can use it.
When next you wish to speak to me, Girl Who Lived, you will be mine.