Metempsychoses: Symbiote

METEMPSYCHOSES: SYMBIOTE

 

(I am alive. I am a good servant. I am a good servant. That is what

matters.)

To think the Dark Lord has fallen so low...that one such as I is

resigned to share the body of a quivering idiot like Quirrell! But no

matter, he is better than a rat, though not by much. No one will

know the agonies of sharing his mind. By Slytherin's blood, it's

like a skittish doe! He fears me so. But he worships me. And that

is why I do not just destroy him, just blot out his mind and take

up residence in his body. It would be so easy, and I must confess

I am tempted sometimes. He hears these thoughts, and sobs and pleads,

and I let him live. It is good to have followers. It is also good

to keep these followers in a constant state of fear. It sharpens

them. And Quirrell desperately needs some sharpening.

(Yes, Master, please, fashion me into a tool fit for your use.)

How hard it was not to just take over when that Potter boy, that

stain upon my glory, first looked into our eyes. To kill him would

be so sweet! But I must bide my time. Patience, indeed, might be my

only quality considered a virtue by the common-blooded fools that

now sit in seats of power. They know not how treacherous power is!

It poisons those it does not simply destroy. And when the poison is

well-entrenched in their veins, I will be waiting to recieve my new

servants. They think they can wield the might that is rightfully

mine? Let them try; let them fall.

(Your new reign will be undisputed, Master.)

Indeed. Even Dumbledore will fall when the Stone is mine. How I wish

I could have rid myself of that old fool earlier! Those that cannot

be turned must be broken. How did he persist in resisting me? It is

a mystery that taunts me. Perhaps I shall need to utilize more vulgar

methods in disposing of Dumbledore. One thing I shall grant the

Muggles - as stupid as they are, they have a certain animal cunning

when it comes to cruelty. A knife in the throat is as effective as

Avada Kedavra in a pinch. Perhaps after I gain power, you can dispatch

my old enemy, Quirrell.

(It would be the greatest honor, my dear Lord. Anything for you.)

Yes, you would do anything for me, wouldn't you? That's more than I can

say for the Death Eaters. Traitors and cowards to a number. Oh, don't

think I don't see you, Severus Snape. I see how you look at us. Do you see,

perhaps, a shade of your old master behind these eyes? He's looking

back at you, Severus, be sure of that. When the time comes, your

dying will be the most painful a wizard has ever suffered. When the

time comes.

(When the time comes, you will dispatch all treasonous cowards, o Master.)

Including that thing called Potter. His filthy blood will flow for me,

rest assured of that. I will kill him first, and I will kill him

imaginatively. Perhaps a thousand razors of dark light flaying him? Or

maybe I will slowly shut off his brain, snuffing out his life nerve

by nerve. There are so many possibilities. Those who oppose me will suffer.

(They deserve no less. You are the Dark Tide, my Master, and those who

stand against you will be drowned in your might.)

Well put, Quirrell. Perhaps this...association...is doing you more good than

I expected. You will be richly rewarded for your loyalty.

(Serving you is reward enough. I love you, my Lord.)

Then you are a fool.

 

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