Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK.

Hello new readers- welcome to The Recruit. It's a long and completed story but I've decided to put up a chapter every week. I really hope you enjoy it. Please read and review, and stick with it till the end, even if it's only to remind me every week that my story is awful- criticism is always welcome. Thank you for joining me- enjoy the ride...

Chapter One- The Recruit

Marla Voltaire struggled against the two thick pairs of arms that restrained her, cursing herself for not being more vigilant while making her way home through London. She opened her mouth to yell an incantation- hopelessly as her wand had been wrenched from her- but a hand clamped to her face muffled the hexes escaping her lips. She couldn't see her captives; her vision was blurred with blood. With a surge of effort, she attempted to free one of her arms but the troll like grasp was too strong. She didn't cease her struggling, but it was to no avail. She felt herself being dragged down the alley she had entered just moments ago, and to her horror, felt the rush of apparition, forced by the stark figures at either side of her.

With a loud "crack" her feet hit a new ground, hard but smooth, unlike the uneven stone outside her building, and a rush of warmth hit her from the nearby fireplace. She felt her hair fall about her face, as she thrust aimlessly in an attempt to free herself. Her silent captives shook her violently and the blood rushing to her brain made her too dizzy to move. Furiously, she stood still, vision still blurred. The hand moved from her face, freeing her mouth, and she took hold of the opportunity.

"What is going on?" she shouted, "I demand some answers! Who are you?" The grip of the two pairs of arms tightened painfully; she cried out in pain before speaking again. "Someone tell me what this is about!"

She breathed heavily, angry and fearful of her situation. The silence was only pierced by the sound of her breathing until she heard the footfalls of the figure turning to face her.

"Leave the room, Crabbe, Macnair," a clear male voice said calmly. She recognised that voice but in her confusion, it didn't register. The grip on her arms released and she hurriedly wiped the stinging blood from her eyes as heavy footsteps signalled the exit of her captives from the room. She blinked, seeing the darkened room for the first time, and the tall figure that stood by the fireplace, bathed in firelight. Marla watched him warily, feeling blood from the cut on her forehead seeping back down her face. The robed figure waved a long thin hand holding a wand in her direction and she felt the blood disappear and the cut heal. She brought her hand up to her face, and sure enough, there was no wound there. She felt her anger melting away.

"I've been looking forward to this," the figure said, turning away from her to look into the fire. "You're the one that got away."

Marla swallowed hard. "Tom?" She watched as Lord Voldemort continued to stare into the fire. It was the only source of light in the room. The curtains had not been drawn over the large windows and it was so dark outside, a less confused Marla would have wondered as why there where no street lamps outside. The room itself was lavishly furnished- a gleaming stone floor, richly patterned wallpaper, expensive looking ebony bookshelves and a matching desk, finely upholstered armchairs and a long, plush chaise longue with carved arms- but most surprisingly, rows and rows of leather-bound books, the likes of which she had not seen since her Hogwarts days.

"Do you like the house?" her old colleague asked, still looking away. Marla took several steps towards him.

"Tom, they took my wand- they just jumped me outside my home- they have my wand-" Marla hurried towards him, and stopped at the armchair closest to him, leaning against its back, her hands grasping the top of its ornately carved frame. "Tom, they have my wand!" she said urgently.

"I recently acquired it from an old client of ours- you may remember- Hephzibah." He paused, waiting for a reaction. Marla frowned at him. Why wasn't he helping her?

"Tom, why am I here?" she asked warily. Voldemort moved effortlessly into a tall backed armchair opposite Marla. Half facing the fire, his features were framed with the rich firelight. What she saw took her breath away. He was still undeniably handsome but in the 3 short years that they had spent apart, he had achieved a wax-like quality to his skin, and his eyes, once so dark and telling, were now shallow and indecipherable.

"You're here because I requested for you," he said, his eyes fixed on her. "As I said, you're the one that got away." He smiled but it did not reach his eyes. He had developed a maniacal look about him that made her uneasy.

"If I remember correctly, Tom, it was you who left one day and didn't come back- in fact- you left after your assignment to Madam-"

"Hephzibah. Yes. Now her house- and all the treasures in it- are mine." Marla had opened her mouth to appeal to Voldemort for an explanation but at these words, the side of her that nursed rather a consuming hobby took over.

"Everything?" she breathed in amazement. "The woman had trinkets worth thousands of galleons. Thousands, Tom. You own them all?" She felt her excitement grow at the thought of the treasures that had lain in the eccentric collector's house.

"Yes," he replied softly. Marla felt herself grow wary. She walked around the armchair and sat down, positioning herself to face her old friend. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a box of cigarettes and a match. She lit up, and looked searchingly at the figure before her. "Tom, why am I here?"

He stared at her, apparently sizing her up. "You're the one that got away," he said simply. "I summoned you here to right a wrong."

Marla shook her head. "I don't understand," she said, confused "Those men attacked me! They took my wand- smashed my head against my own front door- they ambushed me on my way home- I wasn't summoned ... I-"

He smiled. "My methods are unorthodox but effective. Your wand will be returned- after I have settled a matter with you."

"What matter?" Marla asked, warily.

"I require your services. I have a ... shall we say a task ... a goal ... and to assist me I require magical experience." He paused, apparently enjoying her expression. "You are a great witch, and your power is amplified by your knowledge. I have already gathered a ... team ... of wizards but I passed up the opportunity to gain your assistance once by leaving Borgin's so abruptly, I will not do it again."

"Tom... I'm just a treasure hunter..." she said slowly, "What possible assistance could I be?"

"We'll see shall we?" he said sharply, his tone changing. "And I don't go by my old name anymore. I won't have it, do you understand?"

Marla jumped at the anger surfacing in his face. "I apologise," she said, quickly remembering the name she would affectionately call him all those years ago, "I'm sorry, my Lord."

Voldemort stood up and moved to her. Taking her free hand in his, he pulled her up from her seat. "Don't leave the building for now. I'll summon you soon. You will be great under my rule."

Marla looked at the face she remembered so well and it all came back to her. His ambition, his obsession, his goal to purify the world, his cruelty and his greatness. She flicked her cigarette into the fire. Humbled and overcome with admiration, she bowed her head in respect.

"Yes, my Lord."

That's it for Chapter One. Reviews would be greatly appreciated!