Prologue
The man's footsteps were silent, like those of a cat's. He walked with long, purposeful, fast-paced strides that befitted his tall, lean figure. The air was crisp; the cold was biting, but the man did not shiver. His features were hidden underneath a hood, and his cloak billowed quietly behind him as he navigated skillfully through a thick maze of trees.
Almost as if by magic, he pushed apart two uncharacteristically thin trees, revealing a gigantic, moonlit clearing, filled with people. He stepped through, and a sudden, deathly quiet hush fell over the crowd, as if a cloak had fallen over them, eliminating all sound.
The man ignored the curious stares and climbed up onto a flat, plateau-like rock that was elevated above the land like a stage. He was the alpha male and they were the wolf pack. Without pulling back his hood, he began to speak.
"My wizards and witches, it is with great satisfaction that I gather you here. I have discovered that all is not lost. The Dark Lord may be dead, but we will carry out his wishes. We will complete what he never had the chance to complete. And the world will know that his ashes live on."
If the crowd was curious as to the man's identity, they did not show it. Rather, they seemed somewhat afraid of crossing this man.
"Hail!" the crowd murmured as one. They formed a line, single file, in front of the speaker. Then, one by one, he touched the tip of his wand to their upper left arm and uttered a soft spell, causing each person to shriek with pain.
The hooded man then took a few steps back, tucking his wand into his robes, shrewd, cold gray eyes sweeping the crowd. His sharp vision caught a wizard moving away from the rest of the crowd. Instantly his mental radar locked, and he whipped out his wand. There was a flash of green light, and instantly the wizard lay dead on the ground. He had paid dearly for his mistake.
The man then produced a stone, black with a large crack down the middle, and stroked it gently. He seemed to be lost in his own world, forgetting about the wizards who were watching him in awe. Then suddenly, he seemed to snap to reality. He turned once again to the assembly of wizards standing in front of him. "You may leave. But do not forget what happens to those who are unfaithful."
The crowd's silence grew to a murmur, and then to a rumble that sounded like thunder as they dispersed. Alone, the man threw back his hood, revealing his pale skin; stretched tightly over his bones, and began to pace up and down. His dark hair blew slightly in the breeze. The moon cast a bright light onto his handsome, angular face.
"It is time to take action," he muttered to himself. He then strode over to a large tree, and, with his wand, drew a strange pattern on the tree. It shifted away from its spot, revealing a round wooden door, which the man opened. He lifted out a creature that was no more than a lump of flesh with weak arms and legs, like a baby. Its face, if it could be called that, was snakelike and flat.
"They will pay, pay for ever believing that you could die," he said. He laughed, an unearthly sound, terrible and great. The baby seemed to quiver with excitement. "My dear father," he whispered to it, almost lovingly. "Soon you will be reunited with your son."
The baby said nothing, only flailed its arms pitifully.
"And when we rise together, my name will be as well-known and feared as yours, father. The last thing these Muggles and Mudbloods will know is how cruel I can be!"