An Evil Lord



The Dark Lord values purity of blood. My blood has always been the purest. Purity enhances power, enriches talent, promotes the fine skills need to become one of my family and what we do.

The Dark Lord rewards loyalty. His servants, the Death Eaters, are eager to obey, to show their willingness to perform any task to further their master’s dominion and gain his trust. To me, they are petty criminals, rats not even fit for the sewers in the Dark Lord’s dungeons. They are the Dark Lord’s slaves, who give their useless lives to the darkness in payment for food; a cunning nourishment called power, a hunger never satisfied, a thirst never quenched. Power, which steadily devours them with each mouthful. They alone feel the ability and need to reach the role of the Dark Lord’s right hand man, his most loyal, most trustworthy servant.

Little do they know or realise that this role is already taken. I, and I alone am the Dark Lord’s most faithful servant and follower. I have used over the years, the position that my ancestry has given me, as a Lord, a master of my arts, to secure the role of spy. Not spy, as some are, under the nose of Muggle and Mudblood lover Albus Dumbledore, but spy among ordinary witches and wizards, those most likely to rise or fall when the Dark Lord gains power again.

I am indispensable. I have value. Only I am able to inform my master of the activities of each and every wizard, witch and child; all must pass through my hands. To avoid my services is impossible.

After all, every witch and wizard requires a wand, and Ollivanders is the very best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the years have continued, trust in my skills and workmanship has increased until the wands I produce have become renowned worldwide. I have travelled far and gathered the finest wand materials; thus I have heard more, seen more than any other. Wood of wand quality I found, in trees from the Forbidden Forest to the woods of Europe, dark forests of Albania…

There I found the darkest of creatures, creatures all too willing to join the army of the Dark Lord and leave the confining prisons set by the Ministry and the much-hated ‘Dumbledore’.

It was on my information that my master found his faithful pet Nagini, who has since become an essential part of the Dark Lord’s plan. For I, like my master, am able to speak the noble tongue, the ability, which few possess, to communicate with snakes, serpents, the most supreme of all creatures and pets of the Great One: Salazar Slytherin.

It was on my information that the Dark Lord received giants and dragons in his service. I journeyed far, and enchanted many to do the Dark Lord’s bidding, enticing them to reap their rewards when the time comes.

I alone, have the power to liase with the knowledgeable minds of Acromantula and the age-old centaurs who dwell deep in the Forbidden Forest. Directly under Dumbledore’s nose, I have gained information of great value from the herds of centaurs, who have been promised privileges by the Dark Lord beyond their wildest dreams. Their initial reluctance to cooperate dissipated easily and with a little persuasion, they were able to reveal their world to my master, the world of stars, of fate, and of destiny.



The Dark Lord needs not to have ventured into the Department of Mysteries at all, or to have relied on his plundering Death Eaters; the clumsy and careless Malfoy, and the Lestranges… No, the Dark Lord needn’t have revealed himself in order to hear, no - fail to hear - the words of Trelawney’s prophecy. All the information had been written into the stars long ago, to be retrieved by his one reliable servant, me.



By then, my master was certain beyond doubt that I, who had never yet failed, could be trusted. I would make no mistakes; I would not let him down.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Only I tried, out of faith, unsuccessfully perhaps, but tried to find my master when he was thwarted by the one-year-old Harry Potter.



Only I believed that the Dark Lord was still out there, biding his time, waiting to re-emerge ten, fifteen or even fifty years into the future. And I made sure that I would be there when my master returned. Meanwhile, I too bided my time in Diagon Alley, though not wastefully like those fools in Azkaban, but collecting information and setting out to fulfil my master’s last request, his ultimate plan, the final key to his eternal being…literally.



The Dark Lord entrusted me with a part of his soul, a Horcrux, as it is known, the darkest and greatest of all magic; a ripped portion of the soul, result of a murder and concealed in a powerful magical object.



The Dark Lord is cunning, his mind is of the utmost brilliance, his intelligence clearly outstrips even the cleverest of human beings before him. He has ventured into the impossible, journeyed out into the unknown, travelled further than any other along the path that leads to immortality. I felt honoured to be part of this, to be handed the one opportunity to prove myself and my greatness to my master.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Almost sixteen years ago, I obtained a phoenix feather to be used as a wand core. The phoenix was none other than Dumbledore’s. I can remember sitting in my workshop gazing at this feather and wondering how the pet of such a traitor could possess feathers that could help my master so?



I had learnt, from my own father many years previously, that this particular phoenix had only given one feather before, to be the core of a powerful wand.

Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. My master’s wand.



This feather was the most magnificent of its kind that I had ever seen; coloured a glowing gold, tinted with specks of deep blood red, enlightening yellow and yet tainted here and there with flecks of leaden grey. The core of this second wand, I could feel already, would be close in power to its brother, its core and wood of holly would form a powerful object, at the same time more wonderful and yet more terrible than the greed of power, the lust for life and thirst for immortality. I knew that this would be perfect as a home for my master’s soul.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



My master had guessed then, when his curse had failed to kill Potter, that the boy was unusual and that now the Dark Lord had transferred some of his power to him. So I promised, I knew I would be willing to do anything, try anything to help destroy this obstacle in my master’s way, even if I had to return home, to the wand maker I had hated so much in my childhood.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Five years ago I watched and waited in my dim and somewhat dusty shop, I knew it would be soon. And so entered the Potter boy on one warm but dreary summers day, white grey clouds obliviating the sun, wind sweeping across the streets as if signalling changes to come.



The boy looked ordinary enough, though if one looked closely upon his forehead he bore a thin scar, like a bolt of lightning, the only reminder of my master’s downfall, the reason my master was now so weak.



I touched the repulsive scar, an action even my master could not do at that moment in time, the boy being protected by his mother’s loving sacrifice, an ancient magic, a magic which fails now as the boy reaches manhood…



That afternoon, once again, I played a game with fate. Harry Potter’s eyes widened as he found his wand; 11 inches holly and phoenix feather. I could see his eyes full of fear and I gazed back full of pride on my master’s behalf. Thus far the plan was succeeding and my role and disguise was still intact…after all, if the true nature of Potter’s wand was discovered I could not be blamed, although my master had guessed as much, the Dark Lord always knows…and who are we to refuse the promptings of fate?



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Three years later, after this extraordinary event I was called to a wand weighing ceremony at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament.



There was no sign of the dormant soul in the wand. I knew so well but I knew that the time would come soon for it to be revealed and should its consequences be successful, my master would soon be powerful again, risen from the almost dead to the forever undying, the greatest wizard ever to be.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



And now, sixteen long years from when the Dark Lord was thwarted and suppressed, and two years since he was restored to his body, the Dark Lord’s strength has reached its height. Only one obstacle remains in his path.



Dumbledore is dead. The Potter boy is soon to die. And now the time has come.



Tonight, the Lord Voldemort will call out to his souls, to awake the dormant greatness within his most powerful Horcrux and all of his strength will be unleashed much greater and yet more terrible than ever before.



The ‘Chosen One’ will be vanquished, the ‘Boy who lived’ will be the ‘Boy who lived…and died’. All the good ever performed by the ‘phoenix wand’ will be unwoven from the tapestries of time, and out of this will come a strength, a darkness of such magnitude that has never been imagined or created before.



We will win. We cannot fail for it is written in the stars as inevitable.



Tonight the very last step will be taken, the last request will be fulfilled and the Dark Lord’s jigsaw will be complete. Tonight Lord Voldemort will control everything.



I was the one who helped him. My master would not have succeeded without the service of his most faithful follower…and the Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers.



I will be honoured by him beyond the dreams of all wizards.