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My will was strong.
Taller than the dreary orphanage. Was tightly secured like the bricks on the pavement. More formidable than any adult's stare.
I learned about oceans and how some tides were so high they swept away villages. That was my will, it would crush anyone who dared to step in my way. Subdue anything in its path.
How did I know this? Maybe it was the warmth that grew in my veins and helped me survive winters. Or maybe it was the little quake of fear I would see in the matron’s pupils.
I just knew everyone would submit to me, eventually.
It began with cockroaches. Insects that would creep around the black walls. I searched for the tingling sensation at the base of my spine and would force the cockroaches to move on command. I would force them to be still, arranged in a line until they would starve and die.
Then I tried the same with mice. It was the same time I discovered I could speak to snakes. After many practices, I was able to convince them to lie down and allow themselves to be swallowed alive by my dear reptilian friends.
I wondered, how easy it would be to force the will of others around me, humans.
I tried it on Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop. My first-ever human trial. They couldn’t explain what happened in the caves to the adults who asked. But I remember waves crashing across the rocks and the sound of the sea and feeling as if I was on top of the world.
Adults were trickier. I learned the more emotionally vulnerable or weak-willed ones were easier. Eye contact was crucial.
Then I was distracted by Dumbledore’s visit and the revelation of my wizardry heritage. I felt like my Transfiguration Professor had seen something I wasn’t supposed to show. If I was capable of magic, he was more experienced and much more capable of doing more. So I was more careful.
At Hogwarts, I feigned normalcy, I held myself back and observed. I shouldn’t give myself away too soon, Professor Dumbledore was already difficult to win over and I kept myself buried in other pursuits and studies of magic.
But the craving, the itch to exert my will over others, never left me. It lay dormant, a serpent coiled in the dark recesses of my mind, waiting. I was bullied and treated less again for something I did not deserve. I quickly realised it was not true. I wasn’t a mudblood. I was superior, destined for greatness, and those around me? Mere cockroaches, not worthy of my time nor my talents. I looked down upon them with a mix of disdain and pity.
I was the expansive ocean. I was more.
It was easy to win over Professor Slughorn who took pity on me and encouraged my exploration. I learned it was called the Imperius Curse, and there have never been records of those capable of using the spell without a wand.
I targeted the tormented and weak-willed students, Slytherin was filled with them, oppressed by tradition and families. Using the Imperius Curse became my secret indulgence, a testament to my superiority. I would ask them to do little things, such as give me their money, leave their school ties behind, and skip breakfast.
Each successful manipulation was a rush, a validation of my power and my place above the rest. To command another's will, to see their eyes glaze over with unfaltering obedience—it was a godlike feeling. I revelled in it, in the absolute control, the dominance. It was not enough to merely influence; I had to dominate, to subjugate.
It was my nature.
***
By my Sixth Year, my ambitions had not only been realized but had surpassed even my own expectations. Opening the Chamber of Secrets had cemented my status as the Heir of Slytherin and the others from my House could no longer deny my supremacy. Riches, influence, loyalty—everything was mine for the taking, with Abraxas Malfoy leading the pack of those eager to please. Internally, I sniggered at their subservience. They had begun to address me by a name that resonated with my aspirations, my destiny—Voldemort. It was fitting, a title that crowned my relentless pursuit of immortality.
The ocean was forever was it not?
There would be a Yule Ball. I would not care for something as silly as a dance, but the prospect of forging alliances, particularly with the robust bloodlines of the Russians and Europeans, was too beneficial to ignore. So, despite my disdain for such events, I resolved to attend.
One dilemma I did not foresee was choosing a dance partner. I could not afford to elevate any of my followers, my knights, to a position where they might perceive themselves as having sway over me. Yet, I required someone pliable, someone who could unwittingly assist in advancing my connections. The solution presented itself unexpectedly.
A quarrel at the Gryffindor table caught my attention—one between Fleamont Potter and his younger brother, Harry. There were names called, shoutings of “you’re a disgrace to the name!” From the veins of gossip, I learned the issue was Harry’s sexuality. The ‘Light’ purebloods were still traditionalist, and being homosexual was not welcomed. Despite my usual indifference to Gryffindor affairs, this presented a unique opportunity. The Potters were an old wizarding family, and Harry's vulnerability was a ripe avenue for exploitation.
He was a year younger. It was easy to propose to him to join me to the ball. The Purebloods of my House would not dare to isolate me for something so trivial. Besides, witches were tiring, a wizard partner would exude a stronger partnership.
Harry hesitated, but his cheeks blushed a beautiful shade. He kept asking, “Are you sure?” I had to withhold my own irritation and smile sweetly at him until he finally conceded.
Unbeknownst to me, my world would change.
On the day of the ball, I waited for Harry in front of the Great Hall and he was dressed in robes of green but also knitted with silver lions, a nod to both of our Houses. It was difficult not to stare at the handsome person by my side. No longer wearing glasses, I could see every shade of green in his eyes.
The dance was supposed to be a formality, I had planned on parading Harry around a few important people and leaving him to dance with others. But then one dance turned into two, then three. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him.
I wasn’t even upset. Harry was a formidable partner. He could follow my quips and was more perceptive than I initially thought him to be. We matched well. His touch was special in a way no one else could compare. He would also not shy away from my gaze, a lion holding the stare of a Basilisk.
Before we parted ways, Harry admitted he enjoyed our time together, his cheeks flushed with a captivating hue. For the first time in a long while, the itch was quiet and I wanted nothing but to drown in another.
We kissed and I knew he was mine.
***
I found myself reorganising my life and priorities just to spend more moments with Harry. My study sessions transformed into opportunities to watch Harry at his Quidditch practices; his flying skills captivated me. These occasions often concluded in the locker room, where we became lost in each other. I was entranced by his scent, fresh from a shower, his damp hair, and the luminous sheen of his skin. I even persuaded him to join me in the library under the pretence of studying for his OWLs, where my hands would always rest on his thighs.
Each touch, each shared look was electrifying. I was starving before, now I couldn’t get enough.
Unbeknownst to me, I was reconstructing my emotional barriers with Harry at their core. His absence felt like the ebb and flow of the ocean's tides.
The summer was agonising. I used the time to refocus on original objectives and delve into my family history. I was beyond disappointed by what I found. There was no need for the Killing Curse; my uncle Morfin was too far gone to resist my Imperius Curse—he carried out the act for me.
I was so unsettled by the event, I finally laid my pride and asked for Harry to visit me.
He came for me, like an angel, and we stayed at the Leaky Cauldron. At last, I could have him with me constantly.
I would have forsaken food to remain in that modest room if I could spend any more time with him pressed against me. His presence transformed a tumultuous storm into tranquil waters.
But if I was the ocean, Harry was the wind—ever moving, restless for activity. His curiosity about muggle London, and his desire to see friends, meant I had to pause my plans to accompany him.
A new term began, and with my appointment as Headboy, I received a private room. I wished for Harry to stay with me. There were ways to hide from the teachers of course.
Harry thought I meant every other night, to fumble and play around on the weekends.
"I need my friends as well," he argued fervently. "I have homework and other things to do."
“What other things?”
“We have parties!”
I scoffed, “You would rather spend more time with them than with me?”
“I didn’t mean it like that!”
His resistance unnerved me. Were it anyone else, I'd resort to curses. Harry seemed unaware of the sacrifices made for him, appearing ungrateful.
Harry's increasing boldness in defying my wishes frustrated me.
"I love you, but you can’t control everything I do," Harry stated.
His admission did little to quell my escalating irritation. What value did love hold without accompanying actions?
Harry's time spent with a Prewett boy ignited my jealousy. I couldn't concentrate on anything else except observing them and devising plans to monopolise Harry's time.
Manipulating his friends and some naive teachers was effortless. Using Malfoy, I extended my influence to the Ministry, orchestrating a scheme to further isolate Harry from Fleamont (who already hated our relationship it wasn’t difficult).
Fleamont refused Harry to return for Christmas.
I comforted him and internally smirked. Harry's world was to be exclusively mine.
After Christmas and many arguments, Harry changed. Despite his isolation, his scepticism grew, and his excuses became increasingly far-fetched. As if he wanted to distance himself from me.
Desperate, as soon as we were alone, I seized the opportunity. Grasping his chin to lock eyes, I unleashed a torrent of magical power with a singular command: never leave me.
Harry's eyes, once vivid with life, took on a glazed appearance as my magic collided with his. Yes, I was the mountain tidal wave, obey me. However—
I was taken aback.
A formidable force, equal to my own, met my advance. It was like diving into the water only to be met with a forceful backlash, sending shocks throughout my body. Both Harry and I recoiled.
"What did you do?" Harry’s eyes are wide as if seeing me for the first time.
“Harry–”
He fled before I could say anything else.
My mind was whirring, but my heart was even more determined. Harry truly was mine. His will was strong. It made him more attractive, a challenge. Proof we were meant to be.
I left the alcove and plotted.
Everyone, one day submits to me.