Fic: Lord Whatever
Title: Lord Whatever
Author: ???
Prompt: #61, How exactly did he come up with the anagram "I am Lord Voldemort"? How many false starts did it take?
Rating: G
Pairing(s)?Main Character(s): Tom Riddle, gen
Word count and/or Medium used: 683 (including words in images)
Warnings: None
Summary: Tom spends some time plotting his future persona’s title, and it’s imperative he get it just right. If only his magic would cooperate with him.
A/N: Thank you to the wonderful K for the quick beta and for her fantastic photoshop skills! :D
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Please don't copy/archive/re-post/re-blog this work without the explicit permission from the author/artist.
The library was quiet, as usual, which was perfect for Tom, because he had a lot of work to do. He hissed at a passing first year who dared venture into his little nook, right next to the Restricted Section. Tom liked this solitary table way in the back of the library, nestled between the last two shelves of books. Back here, he could hide from the librarian and Accio books from the Restricted Section when she wasn’t looking.
The work he was doing tonight was not academic in nature; it wasn’t research for any class, nor was it studying for any of his exams. It was personal, and top secret, and it required absolute privacy.
Tom scratched the words onto a piece of parchment, taking care to write them as neatly as possible.
He frowned down at his own name, the bane of his existence. The constant reminder of who he was and the shameful background from which he came. Well, no matter. He would change all that soon. Very soon.
Now, what was that spell? He scratched his chin with the feather of his quill, trying to remember the incantation he had come up with last night. He was always inventing his own spells. Who needed to look through books when one already possessed such powerful natural ability? Tom smirked to himself, feeling warm and glowy when he thought about his own magical prowess.
Ah, yes. That’s what it was...
He pointed his wand at the words on the parchment and whispered, “Scramble like eggs; mix like a medley.”
The letters rearranged themselves before his eyes, taking on life of their own as they twirled and danced around the flat surface of the parchment, creating new words out of his name. Finally, they settled, and Tom read.
What? That made no sense. A very disappointing start. No, better try again.
“Scramble!”
No! That was ridiculous. He couldn’t go around calling himself something to do with Mold Removal. That was not glamorous at all. He pointed his wand again, jabbing it a bit forcefully into the parchment.
“Scramble!”
“Fucking Goblin guts!” he yelled, then he looked up to see if the librarian had heard him curse. When it seemed she hadn’t, and there was no indication anyone else had either, he let his breath go. He looked down at the words again, scowling.
Although... it did come up with the word Lord. Which was promising. He rather liked the sound of Lord. He mouthed the word, emphasizing the syllables with his tongue. It felt good on his lips.
Lowering his voice to a whisper, he tried again. “Scramble.”
Stupid spell.
“Scramble.”
Absolutely not. “Scramble.”
Bloody hell. Not only was that strange and ridiculous, it sounded rather perverse. Tom began to wonder at the mechanics of how one would go about loving toad. Then he thought he might be ill, so he pointed his wand again.
“Scramble.”
No. Obviously. But there was something about the start of it...
Better.
Tom heaved a sigh. That wouldn’t do.
But wait a minute - if he could simply keep remaining letters after I Am Lord and scramble only those...
No, too Muggle-sounding. And that would defeat the point completely.
Lord Love? He thought to himself, I am Lord Love? Oh, please... Tom snickered at the thought of it.
Er. Not... quite...
Decent sound. But it had no meaning.
Lord of death. It was nice. Still, it was missing something.
Lord Voldemort?
Tom stared at the parchment. There it was. The words put fire to his blood when he read them. His skin tingled like it did before something big was about to happen, and he smiled.
Yes. Something looked very right in that.
“I am Lord Voldemort,” he said to himself very quietly, testing the words on his tongue. He felt a shiver. It was perfect.
Author: ???
Prompt: #61, How exactly did he come up with the anagram "I am Lord Voldemort"? How many false starts did it take?
Rating: G
Pairing(s)?Main Character(s): Tom Riddle, gen
Word count and/or Medium used: 683 (including words in images)
Warnings: None
Summary: Tom spends some time plotting his future persona’s title, and it’s imperative he get it just right. If only his magic would cooperate with him.
A/N: Thank you to the wonderful K for the quick beta and for her fantastic photoshop skills! :D
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Please don't copy/archive/re-post/re-blog this work without the explicit permission from the author/artist.
The library was quiet, as usual, which was perfect for Tom, because he had a lot of work to do. He hissed at a passing first year who dared venture into his little nook, right next to the Restricted Section. Tom liked this solitary table way in the back of the library, nestled between the last two shelves of books. Back here, he could hide from the librarian and Accio books from the Restricted Section when she wasn’t looking.
The work he was doing tonight was not academic in nature; it wasn’t research for any class, nor was it studying for any of his exams. It was personal, and top secret, and it required absolute privacy.
Tom scratched the words onto a piece of parchment, taking care to write them as neatly as possible.
He frowned down at his own name, the bane of his existence. The constant reminder of who he was and the shameful background from which he came. Well, no matter. He would change all that soon. Very soon.
Now, what was that spell? He scratched his chin with the feather of his quill, trying to remember the incantation he had come up with last night. He was always inventing his own spells. Who needed to look through books when one already possessed such powerful natural ability? Tom smirked to himself, feeling warm and glowy when he thought about his own magical prowess.
Ah, yes. That’s what it was...
He pointed his wand at the words on the parchment and whispered, “Scramble like eggs; mix like a medley.”
The letters rearranged themselves before his eyes, taking on life of their own as they twirled and danced around the flat surface of the parchment, creating new words out of his name. Finally, they settled, and Tom read.
What? That made no sense. A very disappointing start. No, better try again.
“Scramble!”
No! That was ridiculous. He couldn’t go around calling himself something to do with Mold Removal. That was not glamorous at all. He pointed his wand again, jabbing it a bit forcefully into the parchment.
“Scramble!”
“Fucking Goblin guts!” he yelled, then he looked up to see if the librarian had heard him curse. When it seemed she hadn’t, and there was no indication anyone else had either, he let his breath go. He looked down at the words again, scowling.
Although... it did come up with the word Lord. Which was promising. He rather liked the sound of Lord. He mouthed the word, emphasizing the syllables with his tongue. It felt good on his lips.
Lowering his voice to a whisper, he tried again. “Scramble.”
Stupid spell.
“Scramble.”
Absolutely not. “Scramble.”
Bloody hell. Not only was that strange and ridiculous, it sounded rather perverse. Tom began to wonder at the mechanics of how one would go about loving toad. Then he thought he might be ill, so he pointed his wand again.
“Scramble.”
No. Obviously. But there was something about the start of it...
Better.
Tom heaved a sigh. That wouldn’t do.
But wait a minute - if he could simply keep remaining letters after I Am Lord and scramble only those...
No, too Muggle-sounding. And that would defeat the point completely.
Lord Love? He thought to himself, I am Lord Love? Oh, please... Tom snickered at the thought of it.
Er. Not... quite...
Decent sound. But it had no meaning.
Lord of death. It was nice. Still, it was missing something.
Lord Voldemort?
Tom stared at the parchment. There it was. The words put fire to his blood when he read them. His skin tingled like it did before something big was about to happen, and he smiled.
Yes. Something looked very right in that.
“I am Lord Voldemort,” he said to himself very quietly, testing the words on his tongue. He felt a shiver. It was perfect.