The Confession of a Wizard Turned Bad

The Confessions

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The confession of a wizard turned bad

Lord Voldemort

February 1997

I have been told that I have done terrible things and that I am the wizard who has cast the most Avada Kedavras since the invention of that useful spell.

And yet I was also told that I was a most promising young man back in the days where I was still called Tom Riddle and had not `turned bad´. I recall those days with fondness, it was then that I discovered the fascinating world of the Dark Arts. I can still remember the tendrils of power that coursed through my veins as I cast my very first Cruciatus...A truly unique and thrilling experience

Wormtail assures me that writing all my secrets on that scroll of parchment would boost my popularity and would help me find my redemption.

I do not give a damn about my redemption. I do not need redemption. Redemption is for people who have done something bad and who are afraid to meet a man dressed in skin-tight red leather when they die. I am Lord Voldemort, I do bad things and I have already met the Devil, we are close friends. He really is misunderstood, his two little horns look quite snug on his forehead and red is his colour. There is not any competition between us since I do prefer green myself. Lovely colour, green.

The matter of redemption being dealt with, I must address the one of popularity. While I do have devoted followers, I must confess that I would not mind hearing some cheers from time to time when I am taking a morning stroll in Diagon Alley. Insults and consequent screams of pain are quite entertaining but when it is the only thing one hears it gets repetitive.

I suppose I am partly to blame for that lack of enthusiasm of my fellow wizards. They want a public figure as a leader, they want feasts, parties, exclusive photos and crusty gossips. They are not very eager to rally the ranks of a wizard who spends his days in some dark corner or other since his rebirth three years ago, a wizard who only occasionally takes his Death Eaters out for some fun.

Oh, I know what they say behind my back. That I am afraid of Dumbledore and his ugly little bird... It is obvious these people did not have the honour of spending their Hogwarts years in Slytherin, otherwise they would have known at once that I was following a very cunning strategy.

Lord Voldemort is not afraid of Albus Dumbledore. No, I am merely waiting for the old coot to die before I can tranquilly walk into the Great Hall and take his place. It shouldn´t take long now, my faithful spies at Hogwarts informed me that he looks awfully tired these days, probably feels guilty for that Subway `accident´ he could not prevent last month. Potter was quite afflicted too...

Harry Potter...To think that I have some of his filthy Gryffindor blood in my regenerated body...a body that would not have been in need of regeneration in the first place had that brat never existed.

I am going to enjoy killing him when the time comes. It will be slow and painful...

Not that I want to exterminate everyone, mind you. There has been some most ludicrous parallels drawn between that Muggle with the little moustache, the one who killed Jews although he was half-Jewish himself. Just because I had a filthy Muggle father and want to establish to superiority of Purebloods, is no reason to compare me with that scrawny little man. He had no class whatsoever. What was he thinking exposing that ugly black cross everywhere? Take the skull for example. Now, there you have a signature worthy of a Dark Lord. I always shed a little tear when I see it perfectly shaped in the sky, sent by one of my talented followers. The ghostly green stands out so nicely against the darkness of the night. Lovely colour, green.

The surprising truth is that I do not give a damn about Muggles. They can do whatever they want as long as they do not try to infiltrate my kingdom by sending their brats, who supposedly have some magical abilities, to Hogwarts. The shades of this temple of learning are not to be thus polluted.

Though I must admit the Granger chit is not too bad for a Mudblood. She is a friend of Potter´s too. How utterly devastating for him if she could be rallied to my cause... A clever Massive Memory charm performed by yours truly and she would find herself with the purest pedigree a witch could have. I know from experience that it would work. What? Did you think I was really Salazar Slytherin´s Heir? I have a brilliant mind, I can talk to snakes and I happen to look very good in green: the part fit me like tailored robes, it was begging me to try it on.

It was very easy to convince everyone, especially after I got myself my first pet snake, Basil. Very big and quite deadly. He had beautiful big yellow eyes and a skin of the most vivid green. Lovely colour, green.

I was devastated when I heard that Potter had vanquished my dashing young memory-self and killed my darling snake with his Gryffindor-y sword.

The days were bleak back then, Basil had been a very faithful friend. I was inconsolable until Lucius told me he had heard that wizards with big pet snakes were supposed to be compensating for something else.

Always right my dear Lucius.

I am very happy with the smaller Nagini now. She is very faithful too. Her skin is not as green as Basil´s but it is green all the same. Lovely colour green.

So what of my dreams and ambitions, you will ask me?

Well, they are very modest for such a powerful wizard as I am.

I would be satisfied with complete control over the Wizarding world. The Muggle one does not interest me, it is a nice little playground but has no other potential. Of course I would be attributed the Head Master position at Hogwarts, someone responsible has to rethink the curriculum and to watch over the youngsters. I would make one of my trusted followers Minister for Magic. Lucius has charisma but he will try to stab me in the back at the first occasion, too bad, he would have been perfect. I will have to think about that later.

I will also have to put together a research team to work on Appearance Improving Potions. The red eyes, snake nostrils and sickly white skin are good to impress and frighten the wizard of the streets but my love life has been seriously hampered.

Yes, all in all, everything that I want is pretty reasonable.

Wormtail is pestering me and wants me to say where I think I will be in five years.

Well, it´s easy, the picture is already clear in my mind: Hogwarts, in the room where the great Salazar Slytherin used to plot to get rid of Goddric Gryffindor. I am sitting in a comfortable chair near the fire, Nagini is lovingly coiled at my feet and looks hungrily at Wormtail who is reading `I, The Dark Lord´ to me. My eyes are wandering around the room, occasionally stopping on some particular objects: Dumbledore´s stuffed old bird in a corner--no longer singing, thanks Merlin--, the box containing Basil´s ashes well in evidence on the mantle-piece, Potter´s glasses encased in unbreakable magical glass--the brat does not need them anymore where he is now and they make a very convenient paper weight. The whole room is decked in green tones of course, I look very good in a green environment since I have recovered my good looks of the good old time. Lovely colour, green.

Lord Voldemort