THE MEASURE OF MY POWERS
by Tari Gwaemir
On the Unforgivables.
His favorite Unforgivable isn't Avada Kedavra, although it was the first he ever cast successfully. There is something almost too trivial about the Killing Curse; enough hatred, enough will to destroy is all it takes. A flash of green, and the victim is dead. How tedious. He uses it when he has to, but he doesn't enjoy it.
Nor does he take much pleasure in Cruciatus. The sight of broken bodies writhing on the floor provides only fleeting satisfaction. Sooner or later, they stop remembering how to beg for mercy and only know how to scream, their minds too overwhelmed by pain to be capable of anything else. Pathetic. Disgusting.
No, his favorite Unforgivable is the Imperius. The initial resistance, the panic of the weaker mind as it tries to buck against his stronger will, the way the spell slowly saps away the sense of self until there remains only empty space for him to seize. When cast successfully, he finds himself with a perfect puppet personally crafted to his demands, with strings tied to each and every joint, each and every muscle under his control.
He doesn't understand what people mean when they speak of love, but he imagines it must be like the moment when he looks at his victim: the sweet thought, oh, you are mine, completely mine.