A/N: To disclaim or not to disclaim, that is the question. The answer; to disclaim!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (or Shakespeare) :)
This is the second book in my 'Dark Order' trilogy. The first book is The Children of Harry Potter: Rise of the Dark Order. You MUST read that first, otherwise this book won't make sense. There is a time skip. It goes straight from first to third year, though there will be a paragraph summing second year up. Enjoy, and please review! :)
The Children of Harry Potter: Reign of the Dark Order
Prologue
Mist rolled over the hills, though the sleepy village of Little Hangelton, and settled on the now magnificent grounds of The Riddle House. Lord Voldemort smiled as he strolled through his grounds, passing his gardeners, who grovelled as he approached. It had been a wise choice, he felt, turning the church primary school gardeners into his own personal team of Argentum Inferuis. "Always loyal, and their work is truly magnificent," Voldemort thought, pausing to admire his handy work on a gardener. Tall, skeletal, and pure silver, his chest emblazoned with the Slytherin Crest, his gardeners stuck the tone he had desired; elegant, yet dangerous. "Rather like myself, in fact." He thought, turning his back on the chill now sweeping though the garden towards him. He began to walk slowly towards The Riddle House, his feet crunching under the frost covered grass. He glanced up at his home, a cold smile crossing his lips as he took in every detail. Once a decaying, unoccupied Manor, Voldemort had returned it to its former glory. Standing over the village, tall and imposing, the windows shone, the roof a striking black, the house a glistening white. The front door towered over even the tallest man, a deep mahogany, radiating evil. "Home." he murmured, striding though the doors. At once, a maid, clad in a silver dress with a green apron ran forward to retrieve him of his coat. Voldemort stood still as she removed it, looking into the large mirror that adorned the far wall. A tall, handsome and muscular seventeen year old looked back at him, dressed in a black suit. He was pale, with thick black hair, and red eyes. Voldemort smiled at his refection, pleased. It would help him with his plan. He strode away from the maid, without thanking her. She stared after him in awe, her eyes glazed over, clearly imperiused.
Voldemort entered the Drawing Room, pleased to find his Generals awaiting him. Draco Malfoy and Voldemort's first Argentum Inferuis, Peter Pettigrew stood as he entered. Voldemort sat in a high backed black armchair facing the white marble fireplace, which was filled with a roaring fire, glad of its warmth. He glanced around, taking in the black couches and armchairs. He snapped his fingers and a glass of firewhisky appeared in his hand. He nodded, and his Generals sat on one of the couches. He smirked as he noticed Malfoy flinch and move away from Pettigrew.
Voldemort waited a moment then spoke, his high, cold voice echoing around the room;
"I have a plan." He continued to speak, well into the night, and by the time he had finished, he was even more certain that the plan would win him the war that was sure to come.
A/N: Please review! :)