A/N: Athena's phoenix here, welcome to my Halloween story! It's sure to give you chills... Bwahahahaha!...
Ahem. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy it. Proceed onward toooooo... Simply Business.
Simply Business
Lord Voldemort walked down the dim, secluded, street of Godric's Hollow on All Hallows' Eve. He was here to wipe out his one last threat to his power, a single child, and then all would be in place. The moment he said the word, his Death Eaters would put his plan into action and overthrow the ministry, gaining control over Magical Britain. In under a week, he would rule the country. Then he would be able to set his sights on the rest of the world.
But first, he would take out the Potter boy, to leave no ends untied.
As he walked down the street in the direction of the Potters' home, he was approached by a figure swathed in a black cloak much the way the Dark Lord was. It seemed to ooze shadows, as if an inverse of a torch: spreading darkness instead of light. Then the figure spoke in a soft voice that gave the dark wizard chills, though he insisted to himself that it was merely the sharp autumn wind.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," it said, "Or, as you so fancifully call yourself, Lord Voldemort. 'One who flees from Death?' How fitting." Then it laughed, and the melodic sound made the wizard's breath catch.
"Who are you that know my name? What are you who dare to speak of me with such scorn?" The Dark Lord approached the figure, malice in his eyes.
The other gave an amused sigh of contempt for the wizard, and lowered the hood of its cloak. Voldemort stopped cold where he stood, for before him was a what appeared to be a young boy, rich in beauty, with alabaster skin and hair like the depths of the night. He stood still, his eyes closed, face to the sky, with a soft smile playing on his lips. Then he turned his head to the wizard and his eyes opened. They were obsidian, as like the abyss of a bottomless pool, or the sky vacant of the new moon, and seemed to be just as empty.
"Who am I? What am I? Of the two, the 'what' is the better question. But, hmm, what would you know me as...? Ah, yes, I believe that you might call me 'Devil.'" The boy's face split into an unearthly, unnaturally wide grin. It seemed to stretch across his entire face, edge to edge. Voldemort took a single, faltering, step back. The child smiled wider, if at all possible.
"You—you cannot—"
The Devil cut him off effortlessly.
"But we are getting distracted, are we not, oh great and powerful evader of death? You see, I have come with a little proposition for you."
The Dark Lord's eyes widened.
"You see, I have heard of your lust for immortality, and the lengths through which you have gone to achieve it. But alas, your methods do seem to be flawed. Really, I don't know how you could have overlooked the obvious in such a way." The dark child smirked at the wizard, watching in amusement as Voldemort was torn between fleeing from his unexpected companion, and the driving need to discover what he had overlooked.
In the end, the curiosity and the desire for power which had led him to be a Dark Lord won out, and he questioned the interloper.
"You see, the Horcrux are not a perfect creation. As you are, you are protected from the effects of any lethal magics. This, however, is not the only way of achieving death. If left unaltered, you will wither with time, and so come to greet me once more." The boy looked upon the wizard with an almost pitying gaze, as Voldemort realized that the other was correct. If left alone, he would die of old age, of all things. That would not do, for the Dark Lord sought immortality, and 'withering with time' was not part of his plan.
"You have the means to solve my problem?"
"Of course." A dark light lit in those atramentous eyes. "But there will be a price."
"And what might this price be?" For a Slytherin such as the Dark Lord, that remuneration was required did not come unexpected.
The boy paused, running his tongue along his lips, teeth flashing.
"Your eternal soul."
Voldemort pursed his lips. This was not unexpected, given the proponent, and he seemed to be receiving the ideal arrangement. If one was undying, after all, they would never have to compensate.
"I accept."
"Marvelous," the other purred, reaching into the sleeve of his cloak to pull out a thin roll or parchment. A quill appearing in his hand, he shook out the scroll and put in writing their agreement. The slim white hand darted along the page before the quill was stowed away, and the paper rolled closed with a snap. Then the boy approached the wizard, and pressed it into his hand, pulling a different, ragged, black, feather quill out of the air beside him. He handed it to Voldemort, all business now, saying smoothly, "The original blood-quill. To sign means to create an unbreakable contract. I require your birth name, as well as your chosen one."
The Dark Lord nodded, unrolling the parchment and reading it over once, before signing.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort," the Devil read, his voice caressing the words, before turning to look at the man so named.
"You will remember that the moment you signed, your fate was sealed, My eluder of death...And now, I do believe that you were going to commit the terrible act of murdering an innocent? If so...be off with you. I do believe...that you will see me soon." And, stowing the contract in his cloak with an almost loving delicacy, the dark child slipped away into the darkness.
And Voldemort felt as though he were awakening from a long, awfully cold, nightmare. He forced himself to turn away from the spot where the macabre being had vanished, and moved silently down the street towards the Potter house.
Lily Potter was in the nursery putting Harry to bed before the Dark Lord reached their home. James had been called into work on short notice that night, as apparently there had been a spree of muggle killings, and the Auror department was shorthanded. Her husband hadn't wanted to leave, this being Harry's first Halloween, but he could never give up the chance to take in a few Death Eaters, or to protect those that he could, wizard and muggle alike. In the end, knowing that he would be restless otherwise, Lily had practically pushed him out the door.
And so, when Voldemort entered their home that night, he found no opposition, and headed up to the nursery immediately.
"Not Harry, please, not Harry!"
Lily knew that the Dark Lord was just as likely to be merciful as he was to propose marriage to Albus, but she tried at least to stall, and to think of a way out.
And, at last, the dark wizard reached the end of his patience, shrieking the killing curse.
And Lily, using the brains that had gotten her the top scores in Hogwarts for her year, conjured a mirror.
Voldemort's eyes widened as the curse reflected back. And then he fell.
And he heard the Devil's laughter, and a whisper in his ear, "You gave your Horcrux up as payment, so it's the end of your time here."
And the dark child grinned, an unearthly, lurid, grin that seemed to split his face in two. He had created the concept of the Horcrux, pieces of the soul, to be flawed—for a perfect form would rob him of his business, and that just wouldn't do.
The Devil pulled up the hood of his cloak, and, slipping back into the stygian shadows of the night, departed in search of another vassal for a contract.
a/n: Sooo... tell me what you think! Good, bad, horrible, whatever, let me know. I could use the feedback!
Happy Halloween... ;)
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The cloaked boy smiles menacingly.
"If you don't review..."
But before cloaked figure can finish the sentence, the author catches sight of it and runs away in terror.
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posted: Oct. 2011
