PROLOGUE
Tom Marvolo Riddle stood at the head of the dimly lit room at Malfoy Manor, surrounded by his faithful death eaters. His master plan had been put in the works and he would bring it to fruition and ascend the throne of power in the wizarding world and beyond. He addressed his followers.
"My comrades, as you have seen, our world is continually being invaded by outsiders, those of muggle descent. This infestation of filth is becoming rampant, and those mudbloods steal our secrets, knowledge and techniques and use them as their own. Those unworthy scum think they can be on the same level as us, and I say it's time we open our eyes and teach them a lesson. Their numbers are growing, and soon they will attempt to usurp the power from those of us who actually have a right to it, those of us with wizarding blood running through our veins. Are we just going to sit here and let that happen? I for one will not..."
Tom continued with his speech, all his death eaters aptly listening, all, except a handful, that is. Amidst the throng of followers, stood Marc Jeaggerjaques. His face wore the same look of seriousness and devotion as those around him, but in the glistening pools of cerulean that were his eyes, his amusement with 'his lord's' speech shone clearly. He ran his fingers through his tousled light brown hair and gave an inaudible sigh, unnoticed by those around him.
He had known the time was coming; he had sensed it. His 'leader' had gotten stronger. In fact, over the past few years, Tom had begun to radiate an aura that felt almost inhuman. And now, he was about to officially proceed with his plans in all seriousness. He might even be ready to go public. Things were speeding up faster than Marc had anticipated. All this meant to Marc was that the time was high for him to get a move on with his plans. He would have liked to let Tom do a bit more of the dirty work, but he could tell if he didn't act soon, his chances of succeeding would become slim. Also, the longer that he let Tom be leader, the more loyal, or scared, his followers would become, and the less reluctant they would be to join Marc, not that Marc didn't have a few on his side already; his faithful five. He was never one to waste opportunity. He had made note of all those Death Eaters who might share his thoughts, or those, whose faith in Riddle he saw waver every now and then. So, like the opportunistic hunter that he was, he had swept down and rounded up his men from within Voldemort's ranks itself. Of course, he had to be very careful with this, and could approach only those he was absolutely positive about, and he had to limit the number, he couldn't let word of his plans get out, now could he?
He would not let himself be found out before necessary. Thus far, he had five loyal men in on his plans, well four men and one woman, and, while that may seem insignificant, it would suffice for now. He didn't even really need them much for this phase, two would be enough just to watch his back. After all, he was confident in his abilities, and when he had won, the others would join his ranks. However, while many would quickly accept him as their new leader after witnessing his power and hearing him out, he was sure there were those who would struggle and refuse. Some of them were just too attached to 'their lord' and would accept none other than him. One person he was sure would never join him, especially after he got rid of Tom, was Bellatrix Lestrange, he would just have to kill her too. No matter, resistance was to be expected, but in the end there would be no choice. Actually, there would be a choice, join him or die an excruciating death, after all, they were dealing with the man who invented and perfected the Cruciatus curse, not that they knew that of course, they all thought said curse was just another testament to 'their lord's' genius. Marc mentally rolled his eyes.
Actually, he was feeling a bit offended that Riddle had not marked him as enough of a threat to do away with him, or should I say try to do away with him. But then again, he was a good actor, and that idiot Tom, with his major god complex, seriously believed everyone just wanted to be following him around like loyal drooling dogs. He snapped out of his thoughts and waited lazily for Tom to finish his speech. Today would be the day that fool would learn...
"...so, together we shall purge the world of mudblood filth, and show the muggles where they belong. Everyone's eyes shall be opened to the true social order of the world. Blood traitors and those muggle loving fools like Albus Dumbledore shall be dealt with accordingly, facing even worse fates than the muggles and mudbloods themselves. Under my command, wizards shall reclaim the centre of power worldwide, with me as their leader. Anyone who dares oppose us shall fall before the might of Lord Voldemort and his death eaters."
Even amidst the raucous cheering and thundering applause, the chuckle of Marc Jeaggerjaques was clearly audible. All eyes turned towards him. Bellatrix Lestrange was stuck somewhere between staring unbelievingly and incredulously at him and glaring daggers at him. He could see his so called 'best friend' attempting to hide his shock. He knew very well that said look of betrayal had nothing to do with their supposed friendship, but that it was due to the fact that one of Riddle's blind, unwavering followers had dared to laugh after his speech for seemingly no other reason; he took it as pure treachery. Marc knew that their entire friendship was a two way farce. Tom Marvolo Riddle did not want, need, and in effect, have friends. He had seen Marc merely as a tool to be used to its fullest until breaking point or obsoletion, much in the same way as Marc had viewed him. Marc laughed a little more in his mind at the irony. Honestly, he and Riddle were practically one in the same, except that he was better looking, smarter, more skilled and, most importantly, a pureblood.
Tom Riddle tried to keep his composure in the face of what he deemed outright insubordination. He was quickly contemplating on his course of action. How could someone dare laugh at his speech? But he had told himself to keep calm; it was Marc. If it were any one of those bumbling, brainless idiots, he'd murder them there and then, to show that laughter of any kind, once not ordered, permitted or instigated by him, was not to be tolerated. But Tom Riddle was not stupid. He had already ranked his followers' worth and importance, and the three at the top of his list, who would suffer the least punishment for something like this were Marc, Bellatrix and Lucius, and by extension, maybe their family members. However, he doubted Bellatrix would ever do such a thing. Lucius and Bellatrix would probably still be tortured a great deal for it, maybe he would have to make Marc pay the price also, to show that no one defies the dark lord, in however small a way. However, Marc was the most valuable of his followers; smart, sneaky, ambitious, wealthy, totally for the cause; a true Slytherin in every way. Really, if any one of his followers was to turn on him, there wouldn't be much cause for worry, unless of course, that follower was Marc; Marc, who knew everything about him, except his newest and most guarded secret. This was why he had always kept a slightly close watch on Marc, but the Jeaggerjaques was always so focussed on their goal. He thought Marc was just his biggest supporter, who was smart, and understood him the most. Marc was the last person to be against an anti-mudblood movement. This was the only reason, knowing Marc's abilities and ambitious nature, that Lord Voldemort didn't sleep with one eye open, that he didn't already try to dispose of Marc. Marc was his most valuable supporter. He hoped someone really did just tell a joke, and he wouldn't be forced to kill such a handy tool.
"Yes Marc? Something funny?" Tom Riddle asked his 'comrade'.
"Oh, well, you see Tom – "
"Lord VOLDEMORT," Riddle interjected. He couldn't let that one slide. He hated that name, and Marc of all people should have known better. In fact, Riddle could've sworn he saw Marc sneering as he said it, as if he were doing it just to annoy him. Something really was up. He reached for his wand beneath his robes, and curled his long fingers around the cool wood; it was a reassuring sensation, he was ready for whatever Marc could throw at him. But the blue eyed man only continued to speak.
"Yes, as I was saying Tom," Voldemort tightened his grip on the wand, and the other Death Eaters started closing in the circle around the two; they were sure Marc was purposefully defying their leader now. Marc went on, "I dare say I did find your little speech a tad amusing."
Voldemort had strolled forward, his wand now at Marc's throat, his face distorted with rage.
"What exactly are you saying Jeaggerjaques, you no longer wish to follow the path we have chosen?"
Voldemort's anger and shock did not show in his voice. The only reason that he had not as yet painfully disposed of the newly apparent thorn in his side was because he needed to appease his curiousity; he needed to know exactly what was going on in Marc's head to gauge just how painful he should make his death. Also, he really wanted to know what had prompted this change of heart. He gazed intently into Marc's sapphire pools, searching, until –
"You know, doing that is useless. You can just stop now. As skilled as you are in legilimency, you can't get past my mental defences," and with a swish of his cloak, Marc was standing behind Voldemort, who was now the one being held at wandpoint.
"Impossible!"
"You don't believe, well then, try again," Marc responded, as if trying to humour a curious toddler.
Voldemort stared into the blue orbs once more, but try as he might, he could decipher none of what was hidden in their shining depths.
"What, but how? I have always been able to before!"
Marc scoffed. "Yeah, and that's why you so saw this coming." He rolled his eyes and ran his hand through is brown locks again.
"So now, what to do?" Marc mused out loud, he looked at Voldemort and continued, "You want an explanation? Or should I kill you and present my big villainous reveal after, or should I let you die knowing why? Hmm..."
Marc stroked his chin in a mock thinking pose. The death eaters had not acted as yet as their leader did not instruct them to do so, but at his words, some of them didn't care anymore, and sprang into action to defend their lord. He gracefully side stepped a jet of orange light hurling towards him at the speed of, well, uh light. Orange light, duh. With the aid of his shield charm, he blocked a few others that were coming at him, and then he body binded Goyle, who was sneaking up on him from behind to attack, all in one graceful movement, and without uttering a single word.
"Impossible! You deflected the Cruciatus curse with a shield charm, how?"
Lucius Malfoy stared dumbfounded, Marc shot him an exasperated look.
"Now now people, would you please be calm, I don't want to render any of you unconscious before I give my speech!"
"Oh shut up, you insufferable jerk, you really think you can put a scratch on the Dark Lord?" Bellatrix Lestrange screamed, drawing closer to him with her pointed wand.
"Oh no, of course not," Marc replied, but then he added, "That would be like trying to step on an ant without crushing it." A sarcastic smiled stretched wide across his already overconfident visage. The circle of Death Eaters continued closing in, all of their wands raised.
"Aren't you even going to try to defend yourself?" Bellatrix sneered, "Or have you conceded defeat?"
Marc just smiled his condescending smile. Then, as if on cue, five members stepped out of the ring of Death Eaters toward the centre, forming a smaller circle within. They about faced and turned their wands on the on coming throng of angry Death Eaters.
"Traitors!"
"Now now, please, I said that the fighting has to wait until after my speech!"
"We shall keep them in line my lord, please continue," said the only woman among the traitors.
"That is much appreciated, Pattron."
"You're following that scum?" spat Bellatrix.
"Silence you nuisance, my lord is about to speak!" and with that, the Death Eater called Pattron shot a silencing charm at Lestrange, which hit it's mark. The other Death Eaters pointed their wands at Pattron, but all their attacks missed, due to her dodging, and a combined effect of her, and her comrades, deflection and superb wandwork.
She spoke, "Now that Bella is a little quiet – "
" – good god, I never thought I'd see the day, you need an award for that one Pattron," grinned one of her comrades.
"Why, thank you, Hendrix," she smiled at him, "Now, as I was saying, since some of the major annoyances have been dealt with, you shall stay still and listen to my lord, if you do not comply, the situation will never progress. The quicker you listen, the quicker we get to fight," she ended, with an insane grin.
The last line had reached the Death Eaters, but they did not change their stance. In the room, all the wands were drawn, both Riddle and Jeaggerjaques poised to strike at the other without a moment's notice. Everyone could see Bellatrix's mouth working furiously in protest, but no one heard a thing. Then the silence was broken by none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle himself.
"Let him speak, I am interested in his motives for treachery."
"Thank you, not that I needed your permission. Anyways – "
"Why have you turned the tables on us? Are you too scared to go through with the plan. Have you suddenly become a muggle lover?"
"Ahem," Marc cleared his throat, cutting off Voldemort, "No interruptions please, Tom."
Both men locked eyes, Voldemort clearly angry, and Marc, still smiling mischievously. Riddle said nothing else, so Marc continued, "I have not become a muggle loving fool as you have suggested, in fact, I have not deviated from my plan one bit," Marc stated calmly. Before Voldemort could speak, he continued, "You see, I do believe muggles and mudbloods are below filth, not even fit to lick the grime off of my boots. And I do wish to reform the social order of this world, where purity of blood is prized above all else, as the most valued criteria in society. It just amuses me that you are deluded into thinking that a half blood such as yourself should be the one to sit on the throne. You may be more worthy than a mudblood, but in the system, your rightful place is still beneath ME!"
"What, you wish to overthrow me and take my place at the top?"
"It is only fitting, and I am not overthrowing you dear friend, I have always been on the top!"
Marc saw that Voldemort was about to speak and cut him off.
"Yes Tom, it was your hatred that fuelled this entire campaign of sorts, but it was my ambitions, my ideals, my influence that fuelled your hatred. You may have harboured evil intentions toward muggles before I met you, but you would not have taken those intentions and successfully acted on them thus far, had it not been for me. I dragged your hatred out of you and nurtured it, making sure it never dwindled. I was your advisor, and your pillar of support. I saw your potential and used it to my advantage. Who was it Tom, that was there with you, every step of the way, whispering in your ear, guiding you? It was I Tom, I! Who gave you the fullest, wholehearted support? Do you really think I'd put so much into sending someone else to the top? I had originally planned to let you do it all, keep my name clean til the last minute, lest any complications arose, but now I see that's not an option. I have to dispose of you now!"
"What? That's not true!"
"Yes it is Tom. This has always been my dream. I saw that I could use you and your hatred to make my dreams come true, so I did. I have always been the one in control, and now, as the purebloods reassert there superiority, I shall be the one to lead them! The seat of power will be mine! Oh, and I bet you're wondering why your oh-so-supreme legilimency skills never picked up on this? It's just another testament to how much better than you I am Tom! I opened my mind to you to the extent that I wanted and fed you false information, so that you wouldn't suspect a thing. And Tom, I have to say, I was disappointed by your falling for it every bit. Heir of Slytherin or not, you're still just a half blood, and a second rate one at that. Au revoir Tom, I shall be the one to come out on top."
Marc, stopping for a breath [finally], then turned to the death eaters and continued.
"Join me, as we work toward that goal, only this time, we shall do it properly, and you will have a more fitting, competent and handsome leader."
"..."
Some people lowered their wands, others were in deep thought and some were blinking confusedly. Crabbe was slapping himself on the cheek, no doubt checking to see if he was dreaming. Bellatrix was giving Marc the finger while attempting to shout profanities at him. Three people stepped forward and joined his group of five. He could see that some, like Bellatrix, Rabastan, Lucius and co. would never abandon their lord, but the others, they were waiting to see what he was made of, if he were just all talk. They would just side with whoever won the battle that was imminent. Bella and co. on the other hand would fight for Tom even after he died. He would just have to dispose of them quickly.
"Are you done?" Riddle asked. Unsurprisingly, Marc just smiled back [does he have a mode except for smiling?]. Voldemort continued, "Well, if all you say about you being the one to lead me down this path is true, I guess all that's left for me to say is... thanks Jeaggerjaques, and as you would say, au revoir."
He pointed his wand at Marc.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Marc raised his wand and yelled, "Ventus Battuo!"
They air particles surged forward with such force that they actually caused Voldemort's spell to bend and change trajectory. Voldemort was astounded, he had never seen such a thing, or even heard of it. Also, even if there was a spell to negate attacks in that way, if shouldn't be able to fully throw off the Avada Kedavra. Dodging another unknown curse, he realized that he couldn't stop to marvel at Marc's techniques. He had always known Marc was a genius, and apparently, that wasn't even the half of it. However, he did not fear that he would lose. With the blood of Salazar Slytherin running through his veins, and the skill and cunning he possessed, he couldn't lose. And even if that wasn't enough, he still had his secret weapon. And that was why, even though he had acknowledged that some of what Marc had said may have been true, that Marc might have influenced his actions, it had only been to a certain extent. For, when it came to his most important choices in life, he had made those entirely on his own, if not all, at least the most important one. He was absolutely sure that he was the only one who knew about his horcruxes. He doubted whether Marc, power hungry genius or not had even thought of dappling in dark magic such as that. Not going that extra mile, despite the fact that Tom had done so would be Marc's undoing. That cocky bastard, probably didn't even think he needed a backup, but better safe than sorry.
While Marc and Tom fought, blow for blow, neither paid heed to the Death Eaters around them. Crashes and screams could be heard, along with curses of both kinds. Though Marc's followers paled in numbers compared to Voldemort's army, they held their own well. Flashes of light could be seen in the background, but neither man noticed, they both concentrated only on their own fight. Their supporters would watch their backs. They both hand eyes and wands only for the other.
"Crucio!" Voldemort's voice echoed through the room.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Both men dodged the respective attacks but Marc caught Voldemort from the side with an unexpected curse whose name was not heard. The sickening orange flash sank into Voldemort's skin, ripping through flesh. Blood spurted from the newly formed gash down Riddle's front from shoulder to torso. The dark crimson droplets splattered on the floor. Screams of "Master!" and "You bastard!" could be heard throughout the room. Voldemort staggered a little, but remained upright, he was still firing curse after curse at Marc, but the pain in his body was impeding his aim somewhat. Marc landed another hit on him. This time Voldemort was engulfed in purple light. However, Marc had also fallen victim to one of the Dark Lord's spells. He felt the air around his neck pressing in, constricting his air passages. He was suffocating. He forced himself to drink in gulps of air, thinking that he couldn't die like that. He had no idea what the curse was, and knew no countercurse. He pointed his wand to his throat and simply willed the sensation away, concentrating hard on living. Meanwhile, Voldemort hovered a few inches above the ground, waves of pain coursing through his body; he was feeling as if he would explode from pain. By the time Marc recovered from the suffocation spell, and was refilling his lungs with life, he looked up to see Voldemort, barely standing, trembling. Impossible, I designed that spell for an excruciating death from unbearable pain. I was right in not postponing this battle further, Tom is gaining strength quickly. Both men tried their best to regain their composure, and not look astonished that the other was still standing.
Marc dodged two jinxes from the Death Eater crowd and then pointed his wand at Voldemort once more. With a flick, the other was thrown into a wall. In that instant, Marc had the opportunity to see Pattron and Hendrix take down five death eaters.
"Now you two, we can't have you depleting my potential force too much now can we?" he chuckled, then he turned to Riddle who was righting himself. "Tom, do you finally see the difference between you and I, are you ready to die?"
"Marc, these bruises mean nothing. I know the difference between you and I, and because of that, I am positive that no matter what, you'll be the one to die. Nothing you throw at me can kill me!"
"Is that so, what say we test that hypothesis," he pointed his wand at the battered form of Riddle, still breathing profusely, "Avada – "
Before Marc could finish, he flew forward, knocking over a couple unsuspecting death eaters.
"You bastard!"
All heads turned toward the unfamiliar voice. In the heat of the moment, no one had even noticed that the door to the hall had been thrown open. Framed in the doorway was a girl, a teenager nonetheless. She had honey coloured hair that reach her mid back and deep amethyst eyes. Her wand was pointed exactly where Marc had been standing before and on her face shone anger, determination, and most of all, hatred. Outside the door, one guard laid battered and unconscious, the other dead. For once in his life, Tom Riddle was at a loss. He was putting all his energy into resisting the urge to facepalm, fling his wand into the air, say 'I give up' and fade into oblivion, all the while trying to keep his eyes from bulging in surprise at the interruption. Really, couldn't someone try to take over the world and suppress a lesser class of people without being interrupted? First, it was his supposed most loyal follower, now some little girl? Really. Did fate hate him? Also, he didn't know what to do, kill her, leave her to the Death Eaters, ignore her for the while. Everyone else in the room was too stunned to make a move either. They had no idea who the girl was, or why she had a death wish.
Then, Voldemort didn't have to wonder what to do anymore. She made the decision for him; she began walking into the room, wand still raised, a manic glint in her eyes. This prompted action. However, she managed to avoid or counter the sea of curses flying toward her, even taking down a few death eaters. She walked right past Voldemort, however, in the direction of where Marc had landed. Voldemort was a bit relieved; because he was pretty sure in his state of shock his reaction would have been slower than usual.
Marc got up and broke the still of the night.
"Ah, Rosalie, that wasn't very noble, now was it? Attacking while your opponent's back is turned."
"Screw honour, I just want you dead!"
Voldemort looked on, seizing the little break granted to him to heal his wounds. No one made a move, everyone in the room had forgotten their own battles, too eager to see the scene before them unfold. Who was this girl, and why did she want Marc dead?
"You do realize you just waltzed into a room full of Death Eaters, right? I thought you were supposed to be smart?"
"Yeah, well, lucky for me you guys seem to be having a little... disagreement. Plus, your security sucks."
"You took out all of my guards?" Lucius Malfoy paled.
"Relax, some are still living, just unconscious. I had a feeling some of the ones patrolling the grounds and what not are not directly involved in your sick little cult, so I spared them. I only came here to kill one person, Marc Jeaggerjaques."
"You think you can kill me? Quite the little avenger, aren't you?"
"Shut up Marc, I'll make you pay!" And without further ado, she turned her wand on him, a beam of violet light heading straight for his torso. He couldn't dodge in time but he returned the shot with a yellow beam. Both attacks met, and seemed to struggle against each other for some time, then when neither could make the other budge, the pressure around the attacks released, and there was a huge blast from the point where the attacks met, outwards in every direction. Lucius Malfoy stared horrorstruck at his scorched furniture, the craters in his walls and all the debris in the room which were once his possessions. Even some people had been burnt slightly, or suffered bruises, some had been knocked to the floor. With another flash of light, Rosalie found herself bound by thick ropes. She struggled against them, but they wouldn't budge.
"Seeing how merciful I am, I'll put you out of your misery quickly Rosalie."
Before Marc could strike, though Rosalie's arms were bound, she still managed to shoot a spell in Marc's direction. Marc couldn't see the attack, but he sensed the stream of pressurized air coming toward him in time and side stepped. The spell only managed to leave a small cut on the side of his face. He turned back to Rosalie, ready to smirk at a desperate attempt, but what he saw surprised him. Though she was still bound, she was staring in his direction, smiling, while still fidgeting with the ropes. He realized what was happening, but not fast enough. The spell that had missed him had hit the pillar behind him, which was now crumbling down right onto him. He tried to escape, and while he managed to avoid the majority of the rubble, he still had not escaped uninjured. His right arm had been hit, he wasn't sure if it was broken, and he sprained his left ankle when running and tripping on a piece of fallen stonework. But they were minor injuries.
Rosalie had freed herself from her confinements, once again shooting a beam of violet light towards him. He blocked it.
"You really think you can win by coming at me head on with the same old tricks?"
Just as a blue beam hit him from the side, he heard Rosalie state clearly from that direction, "Of course not."
He screamed as he was subject to searing pain. His entire body felt as though on fire, and every now and then, he'd feel a slice, and a gash would appear somewhere on his body, gushing blood.
Rosalie took the moment to disarm him. "Expelliarmus!"
His wand flew out of his hand and landed about a foot away. Then the effect of the spell let up. Marc was shaking a little, his robes stained with blood. He watched his wand lying on the floor.
"Foolish girl," he merely raised his arm, and the wand shot towards him, returning to his outstretched palm, "You will pay for that!"
He pointed at her and shouted the incantation.
She yelled "Protego!" but her shield charm could not hold off the offending attack. She shot through the crowd of Death Eaters and was pinned to the back wall. The forced of the spell was crushing her into the wall, and Marc was beginning to steadily increase the pressure. She struggled to fight it off, but to no avail. She pointed her wand toward herself, concentrating hard on her shield charm, attempting to form and maintain some form of protection around her body, as the air had already been force out of her lungs, and she was already beginning to feel intense stress on her bones. She was sure pretty soon something would snap. Thankfully, she managed to pull of the shield charm, and, though weak against Marc's attack, it still offered some protection. The pressure on her body had lessened somewhat. She still felt like a giant was stepping on her, but she no longer felt such pressure on her bones, pushing on them, making them feel as though they would all give way in an instant. Marc started increasing the pressure once again, she could feel it. Thankfully, she was cushioned by the little capsule the shield charm had formed around her. The spell however was still pressing her and her little capsule into the wall, and try as she might she could not break it, and maintain her shield charm at the same time.
The wall behind her began to crack. The cracks emerged like little tendrils from the centre where she was being held against the wall, and spread out. Then Marc raised his wand and, anticipating what was coming, she acted quickly. The exact moment he had yelled "Avada Kedavra" she screamed out, "Rego". The jet of green light that was the killing curse shot toward her, but disappeared in mid air, intercepted by a rift of darkness that had appeared in the atmosphere. Another rift opened nearby, and the spell shot back out in another direction, hitting one of Marc's followers.
Marc was astounded, as was everyone else in the room. Someone had just countered the killing curse. In his moment of shock, Marc had let up on the pressure being exerted on Rosalie. She seized the opportunity, and with a surge of strength and determination, she broke free. She attempted to hit him with the body bind spell, but he had snapped back to his senses before the curse could make contact.
"How did you do that? What's the concept behind that spell, teleportation?"
"A magician never reveals her secrets!" she roared
They stared at each other a little longer, both trying to regain their footing in this never ending battle. The spell from before had taken quite a toll on Rosalie's body, and she was gasping for breath still. Marc was too concerned with the spell she had used to think about anything else.
"Well, it seems that I'm not the only one using his free time to invent advanced and useful spells."
"Ha!" she spat, "Don't try to compare us! I haven't had free time for a year now. And I didn't just invent these spells thinking about what poor innocent soul I could torture. For the past year, I've been searching for you, researching, training, learning new spells, and creating some, so that I'd be sure I was able to kill you. After all, you can't be too prepared when facing the scum that killed his own family, without a hint of remorse. You need everything when going up against a monster like you!" she roared.
"You little half blood! You dare to call me scum!" he yelled, enraged. He raised his wand and angry flames erupted from the tip, rushing toward her like a giant orange and red wave. She countered, a jet of water erupting from her wand and turned into a giant surge. She had cast the spell when Marc's flames were nearly upon her. The room was clouded in steam for a while. When it cleared, Rosalie was standing there, an angry burn on her left forearm, but she seemed not to notice.
"Serpensortia!" Marc yelled, an acid green snake appearing on the floor in front of him. The snake was gigantic. It's huge body lay on the floor, massive coils glistening in the moonlight coming through one of the broken windows.
"Kill her!" Marc spoke in parseltongue. The entire room watched on in awe. No one, not even Voldemort or Rosalie, had known Marc was a parselmouth. The snake slithered toward Rosalie at and astounding speed. She ran, trying to avoid it. Marc wasn't just sitting back and enjoying the show. While Rosalie ran, he followed her every movement, shooting spell after spell at her. She tried her best to block them, but she couldn't quite concentrate on Marc and the snake at the same time. She had acquired a few cuts and bruises, and a paralyzed left leg from the spells that she had not completely avoided. With the left leg impeding her speed, the snake had her. It started to coil around her leg, the good one, cutting off her blood flow. But the snake was at close range now.
"Avada Kedavra!" the snake's fangs had only slightly broken through skin when it dropped limply to the ground. Rosalie only noticed the slight sting in her leg. Lifting herself from the ground, and restoring use to her left leg, she faced Marc again. "Avis!" she cried, as she conjured a small flock of birds in the air. There were ten in total.
"Birds? Ha!" Marc said.
The birds dived toward him. He took out two with a killing curse, and petrified another, but they were small and fast. The others swopped down and began pecking him, on his head, face and arms. He didn't dare try to kill them, because there was a great chance he would miss and hit himself instead. He tried his best to ignore the birds fluttering around him, while he dodged another killing curse from Rosalie. He returned her shot with one, which she avoided. Soon the bird s disappeared, and he was free to concentrate again. Rosalie pointed her wand at him, going for the direct attack once more. Another killing curse was shot. Needless to say, he dodged it, and was careful to be alert for and attacks she might shoot directly after, but none came. He thought she had missed, because he did see her point her wand, but her aim was a little off. She attacked from the front once more with the same blue curse she had hit him with in the beginning of the battle. He shot a killing curse toward it, his muscles too sore to dodge. Then he felt it, searing pain, as something skewered him through, passing straight on. Her previous curse had not missed, because she was not aiming at him. She had summoned a poker from near the fireplace and directed it to stab him from behind. As the metal rod pierced through his chest from the back, and emerged through the front, he attempted shooting spells to at least take her down too, but the pain was blinding him, and he missed. She disarmed him once more, and stepped over to the bleeding body. He lay on the floor, coughing up blood. He was attempting to move his arm to summon his wand, but she stepped on his hand. "The poker ran through your heart, you're as good as dead, but just to be sure..."
She pointed her wand at his throat. "Remember me while you're rotting in hell, Marc. Remember all your sins, try to repent for them, though I doubt it'd ever be enough. Remember what you did to you family, and remember me, the girl who killed you, the girl whose life you destroyed, Rosalie Tonérre. And don't you even think about putting one foot out of line in hell, cuz I'll be following right behind soon enough to ensure you don't find an escape." With that, she ended the monologue, and the jet of green light from her wand ended his life. She wasn't joking when she said she'd be following, the snake's venom had spread now, and she could feel the waves of pain raking through her entire body. She could barely move her right leg, her time was nearly up, but she had done what she came to do.
During her speech, the woman called Pattron had tried to attack her, but she had disposed of the nuisance. Apparently even after watching that entire battle, the stupid woman didn't think to dodge when Rosalie fired a killing curse her way. Now, the fair girl who was now covered in blood stood in a room full of Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord himself.
"While I must admit that you are skilled, and you have helped me, you must die now. Surely you did realize that the moment you walked into the room, you walked to your death." Voldemort raised his wand.
...
Marc Jeaggerjaques stood, watching the scene before him. He saw himself, lying on the floor, bloody and beaten, the little halfblood being addressed by Tom.
"I don't mind dying, a long as I got to kill him, and drag down as many of you bastards with me as I can! Especially you, after Marc, you're to blame for everything!" She shouted the last part at Riddle.
Marc noticed their was a chain coming out of his chest, he also noticed that he wasn't like a ghost, he was something different, while the girl and Tom prepared to fight, he wondered if he was really dead, or if something had gone wrong with the spell. Just then, two gigantic gates appeared out of no where. They opened, and Marc found himself being pulled in. Try as he might, he could not resist the force. As he passed through the gates, they closed shut and disappeared. No one had noticed anything.
...
All the death eaters pointed their wands at Rosalie, along with Voldemort. She raised hers also. Every single person in the room fired a killing curse at her. She attempted to dodged, but it was impossible to evade them all. However, before the curses that dealt the final blow had made contact, Rosalie had managed to shoot a string of spells in every direction, and quite a few made contact. Illuminated by green light, she gracefully sank to the floor. The last thing her eyes saw before death was an image of Voldemort, who, in all the chaos, had managed to fall victim to a cruciatus curse she had shot. A smile graced her lips.
...
Rosalie stood up, dazed and confused, then, she noticed she was still in the room full of death eaters. She jumped, when she noticed that she was standing next to herself on the floor. The only difference between herself and the Rosalie on the floor, aside from the fact that that one was clearly nowhere near consciousness, was that she had a chain attached to her chest. Rosalie had no idea where this came from. She looked around the room, no one seemed to notice her, no one except for one other person with a chain also coming out from his chest. He just stared at her. Voldemort turned to his remaining death eaters.
"Now, to deal with the traitors." With flashes of green light, Rosalie saw six people fall to the floor. Then she saw it, they were like her. An exact replica of all the dead bodies stood in the room, a chain attached to each of their chests. She heard Voldemort order his men to dispose of the bodies. Hers and Marc's were to be taken to his house to make it look as though they'd had a fight and killed each other, which wasn't too far from the truth.
She noticed a giant set of gates appear in the room. No one but the souls, that's what she assumed they were, noticed it. They opened and pulled in all the death eater souls except one, the same one who had been staring at her before. Compared to the others, he was young and scared. She wondered how he ended up with such a shady group, but judging from the fact that he remained behind, she concluded that he wasn't totally evil like the others, probably just misguided. He noticed she was staring at him and started to back away. Then, they heard an ungodly howl from the grounds. Rosalie picked up the nearest form of defence, which was Marc's wand, and held it at the ready. Cautiously, she made her way toward the window, trying to locate the sound. Rosalie had killed three guards total, because they just wouldn't let up and let her pass, and because she was pretty sure each of them were death eaters. She had spared the others who she thought didn't know what was going on, that they were just doing their job of guarding Malfoy Manor. Looking at the grounds, she saw the soul of one of them. The other two were nowhere in sight, they had probably already been gated away. But something was wrong. He started spewing white substance from his mouth, which began covering his face, forming a mask. As its body mutated into a grotesque shape, forming a horrid creature with a white mask, she saw the little death eater soul shuddering.
"W..what's h..hap..pening?" he stuttered, clutching Rosalie's robes and going pale, apparently forgetting that he was scared of her.
"I don't know."
Just then, the figure turned to face them, and howled again. Then it began to charge in their direction.
"Come on!" she said, grabbing the boy who was probably around her age, and running for the door.
She heard Lucius Malfoy talking about all the repairs he'd have to do, when the creature bounded through the window, cracking the wall further.
"See, the place is still falling to bits even after it's all over, Narcissa is going to kill me!"
Rosalie shot a stunner at the monster, but aside from confusing it for a moment, it had no effect. The monster chased them around the room, it wasn't too smart, so running in zig zag was effective to some extent.
"Sooo hungryyy!" it graoned.
"Oh god, it's going to eat us!" the boy screamed.
"No, just keep running!" Rosalie insisted, firing spell after spell at it. At first it seemed like the spells had no effect, but after a while, she managed to cut off one of its legs with a slicing curse. Then she used a confundus charm to confuse it. Not matter how she assaulted its body with curses, the creature wouldn't fall.
"Why don't you aim for the hole, or its mask?" the boy asked, desperate for a means to kill the hideous thing. She took the suggestion. A large gash appeared in the creatures mask, and as it spewed blood, the creature disintegrated into nothingness.
"A..are we g..gonna become like that?" the boy voiced exactly what Rosalie had been thinking. She just shook her head before she replied.
"I hope not."
They both sat in a corner of the room, still shaking. Finally, Rosalie broke the silence.
"So, what's your name?"
He looked at her, puzzled for a moment, then answered, "Hanatarou Yamada."
"Strange name, it's not English, right?"
"Nope, it's Japanese. I'm half, on my mother's side."
"Well, Hanatarou, I think we should leave, I have absolutely no idea what we should do next, but I don't want to stay here. You coming with."
"Yeah, I don't want to run into one of those things alone."
He got up and followed her out of the room. As they made their way through the house, they continued to talk.
"So, um, why are you a death eater?"
He hung his head. "Well, they asked me to join. At first I said no, but then they threatened to kill my mother and my sister. I couldn't fight them off, so I complied. My dad was a really great wizard when he was alive, so I suppose they thought I'd be awesome too, but I'm practically a squib. The only spells I'm actually somewhat adept at are healing spells, I suck at everything else. Some of them just started using me as a practice dummy, or a servant. I think if I didn't show signs of promise soon, they were going to kill me anyways."
Rosalie was furious. "Those people are horrible. How can they do things like that? Plus, I think you'd be great if you had some more self confidence, hell, you're greater than anyone of them already! And healing is a very important skill! Hmpf!"
He smiled a little. They reached the ground of Malfoy Manor, and stepped into the night.
"Let's be friends," she said, holding out her hand. He took it and shook, smiling a little.
Just then, they saw a man standing before them. He wore a black trench coat over a dark blue shirt, and black pants. Strapped at his waist was a sheathed sword. They wondered who the hell he was, and why he had a sword. Was he an assassin for Voldemort, specializing in killing muggles to make it look like wizards were not involved?
"Hey, you two," he said. They looked around, but they didn't see anyone. Rosalie spoke up, "Are you speaking to us?"
"Yeah."
"You can see us?"
"Uhuh. I'm a death god."
"What?"
"It's true. Now, you two seen a big monster with a mask and a hole in its chest anywhere. I swear, my locator said there was one here, but I can't find it."
"Yeah, we, um, killed it."
"You killed it, are you sure?"
"Uhuh."
"But that's my job!"
"We had no choice, it was going to kill us."
"It's fine. You're just really lucky you succeeded. How on earth did you do that. Nevermind, now for the second part of my job."
He drew his sword. The both stepped back. Rosalie tightened her grip on Marc's wand.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you."
Hanatarou just stared at the sword, while Rosalie said, "Says the death god with the huge ass sword."
"Come on, I'm just going to send you to soul society, the afterlife."
"Soul Society?"
"Yeah, you wouldn't want to stay here and be attacked by more hollows, now would you?"
Hanatarou gulped.
"So, come. I'm just going to tap your forehead with my hilt, and you'll be on your way."
They complied, and as he did so, Hanatarou grabbed onto Rosalie's hand. They faded, and two black butterflies appeared to guide them.
...
The bodies of Marc Jeaggerjaques and Rosalie Tonnérre lay on the floor of Marc's living room. The death eaters had effectively thrashed the room to make it appear like a fight had occurred. They couldn't find Marc's wand however, so they placed that of one of the fallen death eaters in his hand. No one knew where the wand had gone.
When they left, a little figure popped out of the air. It was short, with bat like ears, and a snoutish nose. It knelt before Rosalie, and began to weep.
"Milady, at least you killed him."
Then, surprisingly, the little creature scooped her up without any effort. He then turned toward Marc, a mixture or anger, hatred, scorn and pity in its eyes. Then, with a pop, it disappeared.
Well that's the prologue. Just to straighten things out, yes, Grimmjow is the main character, not Hanatarou. Oh, and the guy's clothes were different cuz he's an English soul reaper. And I think it would be pretty stupid for English souls to go to only an English after life, and reincarnate as English people again, so I decided to make it a random process. After a soul burial, the souls can end up in any afterlife, that's how Rosalie and Hanatarou are gonna end up in the bleach soul society. They ended up together in the afterlife still, cuz he was holding on to her when the soul burial was performed. Things about the actual story will start soon, and clear up any possible confusion you have. So, anyone like where this story is going? [not that you really get much of where it's going from this chapter]. I need feed back on whether to continue. Oh, and sorry if the fight scenes were lame, not so good at them, but I tried.