"I see you've been... successssful..."
Three men were gathered together in a cave. A temporary establishment. If only it weren't for... Okay, now we're getting ahead of ourselves.
The first man, the one who hissed his statement, appeared to be the leader. He had a slightly squeaky voice. An apparent bad run in with a balloon vendor. He had brown hair, and red eyes which none of the others dared look into.
Another had red hair. He seemed to be Irish. His hair was in a weird shape. His friends called it "Conan-Hair". Having left the muggle world years before he had no clue what they were talking about.
The third was African-British, his hair being black and curly. He put his hand in his pocket. His wand was still there. It was 10" palm tree wood. It's core was Griswald hair.
"Yes, Lord Voldemort," the second man replied.
"HOW DARE YOU? I told you to call me sir or your master, Seamus! You too Dean!" Voldemort seethed.
Seamus and Dean cowered under his gaze.
"Leave them alone," a voice from the mouth of the cave called out.
"Ma-master Neville, sir," Voldemort stuttered in a girly voice.
"It's master Longbottom to you, Riddle," Neville snarled.
Neville Longbottom was a muscular young man. He had his long dark brown hair tied back into a sinister-looking ponytail. His brown eyes radiated with power. He was said to be the most nEVILle man in the world. This would've confused anyone back at school. The cowardly Gryffindor boy who was friends with Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived? He wasn't dastardly! Boy were they wrong...