Prologue
As I sat in my room, I contemplated what the return to my true home would bring. Here, my room was my sanctuary; The only place I could feel like myself, and at this moment it was filled with the sounds of guitar strings being tussled by skilled fingers and drums being pounded by fast hands. I loved the feel of the bass pumping through my body as if I was part of the music itself. I could entirely lose myself in it. I felt calm, relaxed and peaceful. Which was definitely a change from what I usually felt when I was away from Hogwarts. It was like I was the only person in the world. Just me in my own little bubble of tranquillity. But of course, me being me, this couldn't possibly last.
"Avana"!
As soon as I heard my mother's shrill voice, my little bubble burst with an all mighty pop and I was brought back to the harsh reality of my life. I sat upright and unwillingly slid off of my bed. Judging by the tone of her voice, this was not going to be a fun conversation. I slumped out of my room at an annoyingly slow pace and hopped down the winding staircase; I was in no hurry to discover what she wanted. When I reached the bottom, I made my way down the hallway; littered with dusty photos of my ancestors, to the large drawing room at the end.
As I approached the door, horror struck me hard and fast. I can't really put in to words the fear and disgust, I felt as I saw him sitting in the huge paisley arm chair by the marble fireplace. I hated everything about him; his serpent-like appearance; his thin scaly fingers; the way he held his wand between his two forefingers and his sickeningly red eyes that pierced those who he set his gaze upon with such ease. I refused to look into them. The Dark Lord was, in my eyes, evil at its worst.
"Enter" he hissed. Well I say he, I should say it, for he was no man.
I stepped into the dimly lit drawing room; cautious of where I let my eyes linger. My mother was standing by the other arm chair with a cold hostile expression gracing her haughty features. I saw that him and my mother were not the rooms only inhabitants. My father was standing next to the vast bay window with his back straight and his hands clasped behind it. His expression was completely blank as to not show the deep fear and anxiety that I knew he felt. Behind him, in the corner of the room, were my two brothers. On the left, Dalton stood with his strong arms folded; his black hair framed his face. He held an expression just as cold as my mothers.
On the right, Eric stood with his arms folded, and a very confused expression set on his face. To be fair, this was his most frequently used expression. It was then that I noticed one other less familiar face.
"Wormtail" the Dark Lord snapped "Wait outside. Be sure to close the door on your way out." His tone was calm but very stern.
The pathetic little slither of a man that had been lurking in the opposite corner of the room to my brothers, shuffled forwards and gave a quick bow while muttering "yes master" under his breath. He scuttled out of the room, closing the deep oak door behind him. There was no distraction to avoid his gaze now. I had to look. His eyes were so fierce but he seemed calm. I was thankful that I could hide my fear and panic better than my family. Although I knew that some of my feelings would show in my vivid green eyes. I was not afraid of him. I was afraid of what he could do, and who out of the ones I loved he could destroy.
Then he began to speak. His voice was a sound that haunted my worst nightmares and hearing it make me shudder. "Now that we are all here, I believe we have a matter to take care of".