Harry Potter and the Spear of Destiny
Prologue
The room was dark, lit only by a single, flickering torch near the door, which seemed to provide more shadows than light. The door opened, and a small, balding man dressed in a black robe came through. As he reached to close the door behind him, the robe slipped back, revealing his right hand to be made of silver metal.
"Master," he spoke, addressing the rear of the room, where the shadows were deepest, "Master, we – I have recovered some more of… His papers. They were taken by Muggle soldiers at the end of the war, and sent to America…." His voice faded away as the rustle of movement came from the area he was directing his words to.
Another figure now stepped in to the small pool of light, this one only vaguely human. He was tall, almost skeletally thin; his head was bald, revealing an expanse of skin whiter than bone, and just slits for nostrils. Together with the jet-black robes he wore, this gave him almost the appearance of Death, the Grim Reaper. The most inhuman aspect of his appearance, however, were the eyes. Blood red, with vertical pupils, like a cats, they belonged on nothing that walked on two legs.
He raised one pale, spidery hand, and silenced the cowering figure before him. "Wormtail, do you no longer bow before your liege? Never mind, for this news you bring is most pleasing to Lord Voldemort. But do you fear to speak his name, as much as my own? Fear him no more, for he failed – although he held the Spear, still he fell before that Muggle-loving fool, Dumbledore. He is not worthy of the title of Dark Lord. Call him by name – Grindelwald!"
"Y-yes, Master," stuttered the man known as Wormtail, "G-Grindelwalds papers were recovered from the American Muggle government, by one of your loyal servants – they show the location of the Spear when it was stolen by the soldiers…"
"Fool!" shouted Voldemort, "I know where it was, I was there when Grindelwald, sealed the vault for the last time – I had just joined him as his apprentice, when Dumbledore came after me, and defeated my teacher. If only he had not interfered, I would have learnt all the secrets of the Spear, and the other artefacts that Grindelwald had collected, and he would still have been dead within six months…."
"My Lord, you served Grindelwald?" Exclaimed Wormtail.
"I serve no-one! I was there to learn what little he could teach me before moving on to greater things." Hissed Voldemort.
"Yes, Master, o-of course, Master" Wormtail stammered.
"You may go, Wormtail" Voldemort dismissed his nervous servant, "Oh, and Wormtail"
Wormtail paused on the threshold of the room, "Yes, Master?"
"CRUCIO!"
In the smallest bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, fifteen-year-old Harry Potter woke with a scream.