To Be Powerful

To Be Powerful

1. Learning Patience

A man sat silently in the corner of the Three Cauldrons, there was a book in his lap and he was scribbling away in it, frequently stopping to send glares at a young couple on the other side of the room.

// I'm the pub again today. She's here. No Surprise, she always is. She's with that boy- the Gryffindor with the messy hair. I hate that boy. I saw him a few days ago, with those friends of his. \

A grimace passed across his features as he thought of something despicable.

// She doesn't remember me, but then why should she? I'm a no one. She's a gorgeous fifteen-year-old and I'm nothing. Her hair glistens like fine wine in the firelight. She's laughing at on of the boy's jokes, typical. Smarmy Gryffindors get everything. Headmaster's not a complete moron, but he most definitely has a weakness for Gryffindors. \

He glowered into the untouched mug of mead in front of him.

// Patience was never one of my strong points. My powers were usually enough to coerce people into going my way. Now I guess I'll have to wait and keep watching. When the opportune moment comes I'll be ready. And she will be mine. //

Tossing a coin onto the table beside his full tankard the man stood and pushed his way out of the pub.

His black robes trailed out behind him in majestic billows as he walked with long legged steps down the cobbled streets. His mind was working quickly, as always, trying to decide when would be the best time to take what he wanted so badly. The classic seduction techniques would be relatively useless given the age difference. And while the girl was attending school he couldn't effectively attempt any other methods.

The Potter boy was another problem- she clung to him with an infuriating fervor. He would have to be eliminated before the end of this. How to eliminate him was an issue that could be dealt with at any time, and the man turned his thoughts to that. Thoughts of torture methods paraded through his mind, bringing a smile to his lips.

There was of course Avada Kedavra, but the quickness of the killing curse held appeal only in battle times, when killing quickly ensured your own survival. He supposed that Crucio would suffice, but that plan involved nothing by way of imagination, and he was nothing if not creative in his cruelty. He reached the edge of town without really noticing the journey and apparated back to his manor.

The newly purchased manor was more of a castle than a home, its silvery black towers reached for the stars with carefully sculpted peaks. The surrounding grounds were covered in innocent looking rosebushes that concealed the places security system. These features, though magnificent, were nothing when compared to the fact that the building had no visible doors, at least none that lead to the inside of the manor. Each intricately designed and warded door was a one was entrance to a dungeon cell.

Of course as lord of the manor the dungeons would not lock on him, but the inconvenience of walking up the four flights of stairs that were warded completely against all types of magic made him avoid these doors on most occasions despite the amusement he always got from walking free in front of his various prisoners and watching them cower when they realized who he was. Today he was in no hurry to return to the batch of incompetents waiting for him in his office, so instead of venturing inside he turned to stroll around the grounds. He had designed the grounds of the manor himself and was rather proud of them. To his left was what appeared to be a shallow stream, in reality this stream was a magical covering for a pit that would trap his adversaries for an eternity unless he deigned to set them free. And of course, to ensure that all trespassers were ensnared by his little trap there was a charm that suggested strongly to all who walked near that they desperately needed to soak their tired feet.

All who were allowed on the premises had been instructed by its owner to avoid the stream, but not all were successful. For this reason the man emptied the cavern about once a week. Any mindless idiot who managed to get themselves caught would find themselves learning very well the intense pain that was associated only with the Cruciatus curse. Unless of course the person ensnared was female, he had a much different tactic to cause a woman suffering. There were no women who had permission to be on his grounds unless they were married to one of his loyal servants, and in that case they would have someone to guide them around the traps.

Lately he had been considering the womanless state of his life in a different light than he had as a youth. He had previously considered the dependence on women he saw in fellow members of his sex as a weakness that was not to be tolerated, but that opinion had changed drastically in the last few months. The change had led him to believe that the right woman could be a strength rather than a weakness as he had believed for so long. Women were cunning creatures - much like the snakes he loved so dearly - and if their cunning could be controlled and utilized they would be a definitely positive addition to his legions.

The only thing left to do was to find this right woman and once he found her, to convince her to join him. Whether he had to use coercion to do it or whether she would come willingly he would have her. If the young woman he was watching at the moment was to be the one he had a lot of work to do.