PARADOX LOST | PROLOGUE: THE PACT
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the brilliant works of J.K. Rowling. This story is only an interpretation of her writing and the characters that have inspired me to delve into their pasts. I understand that this is historically incorrect—that the happenings within this story do not occur within the series at all. I've put an original spin on the Marauders Era to make things more interesting, so please do not private message me about the authenticity of the writing. It is fanfiction; please just enjoy it for the character development and plot!
Author's Note: This is a work-in-progress idea that's been pestering me to be written out for months now and I finally got around to working on it. Please give me some reviews to let me know if it's any good! I'll have the next chapter up shortly.
Scores of witches and wizards alike have tried to dictate the inner workings of the Wizarding world. Some try to influence society through the Ministry of Magic; others educate the children in hopes that they will grow to fix the mistakes of generations past. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin were visionaries in a time of paranoia and mistrust. They built a sanctuary for magical beings who were either persecuted for their identities or shunned for their individualities. They wanted to educate children so that they could control their magic and use it when necessary—only when necessary.
The story of the Founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry became infamous. Their tale and mission became basic foundation for other schools. Godric Gryffindor chose students with bravery and courage. He valued those who would stand up for friends and for justice when it needed to be served. Rowena Ravenclaw selected those who placed wit above all other things. She thought intelligence was most important and vowed to teach children who shared the same sentiment. Salazar Slytherin sorted his students based on their blood purity and ambition. His lack of trust for those of impure bloodlines influenced his opinion on which students should be admitted. It was this difference in opinion that later forced him to leave the school, nowhere to be seen or heard from since. Yet, Helga Hufflepuff vowed to teach all other children, prizing loyalty and kindheartedness above all else. She claimed to teach anyone so long as they were willing to learn.
Years passed and both students and professors came and went. Most shared the philosophies of the three amiable founders; one student took on the opinion of the other. Tom Riddle, though a half-blood himself, placed a high standard on blood purity. Like Salazar Slytherin, he was a powerful, ambitious wizard who was known to speak Parseltongue from a young age. He became obsessed with the idea of defying death, believing that true witches and wizards should not succumb to the most basic force of nature. His ambitions lead him to delve into a darker magic, one that spurred him on an even darker path.
During his stay at Hogwarts, he not only opened the Chamber of Secrets, he also manipulated all of his peers into believing that he was simply an innocent, curious boy. Tom Riddle returned to Hogwarts in 1959 with one simple request: to be given the position of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor there. However, Albus Dumbledore, a man who had practically raised Tom himself, was weary and unwilling to risk the lives of his students. He turned Riddle away, just like he should have when the boy was in school.
Furious that he was denied the post, Riddle cursed the position and hid Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem within the Room of Hidden Things before leaving. Any professor who attempted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts thereafter could only hold the title for a year before suffering a terrible fate or humiliation.
Riddle was never a man who simply forgave and forgot. His desire for the job and for the only home he had ever known festered inside of him like an infectious disease. That, paired with his greed for power, drove him mad. Tom formulated a plan to breach the castle's walls while splitting his soul in attempt to preserve himself. Immortality—that was true power. He adopted the name, "Lord Voldemort," an anagram for his birth given name, as he traveled around the Wizarding world collecting followers and killing all those who interfered.
"There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it."
Those were his words—his philosophies. Voldemort attracted radical Pureblood supremacists, people who believed that only those pure of blood were worthy of magic. If not that, then they believed that magical beings were better than Muggles and squibs. Magic was power; magic was a birthright; magic was might.
For the next several years, he and his followers, better known as Death Eaters, strategically placed attacks on cities and towns in close proximity to the castle. Already in a state of fear, the added rumors of Death Eaters spotted in different towns turned the Wizarding community's attention to the one safe sanction in the area: Hogwarts and Hogsmeade adjacent to the school.
With no other alternative, in 1977, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore opened the doors of the castle to the public, deeming Hogwarts as a place of refuge for those who sought it. All were welcomed in so long as they were willing to take up arms and assist around the castle. Older witches and wizards were placed round the school as protectors and guardians. Others aided the professors, providing additional assets, like learning how to defend one's self in a disadvantaged duel.
In that very same year, Marc duSpevelle was hired as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He was a tall, kind man who had no idea that his fate would be cut short. Voldemort took the opportunity at hand and locked duSpevelle away, and with the assistance of a Polyjuice potion, Voldemort took his place. He infiltrated the walls of the castle with his most loyal followers in tow, posing as innocent people forced to take refuge there. Their goal? Recruitment. Fear. Power. Control. Hidden away behind carefully strewn veneers and guises, they laid in wait. A new era was taking form; a prophecy was being writ; a savage war has begun… and those too naïve to realize it would pay the price for their obliviousness.
A week before Voldemort took on Marc duSpevelle's name, he assembled four of his most trusted followers to divulge to them a much more sinister plan.
The meeting place was located just wry of Hogsmeade, in a dark, musty abandoned building nobody occupied. The Dark Lord stood at the center of four other people, all of whom who wore dark, hooded cloaks to hide their identity. However, with a wave his hand, they lowered their hoods and kept their heads bowed down in submission to their Lord. They neither spoke nor moved, awaiting the barely human man to speak.
"Welcome, my friends. Do overlook the state of this estate. I fear it is rather tedious to find a meeting place that upholds all our standards these days. You must all be wondering why I summoned you—and only you four at that." He scanned their faces, pacing slowly in a circle as he spoke. Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband Rodolphus kept their eyes trained on the ground. Lucius Malfoy shifted slightly, but Nathaniel Avery, his dear friend from his days at Hogwarts, remained steadfast. A sly smile graced the Dark Lord's lips as he continued on. "I have asked that you meet me here on this momentous evening, because I trust you four more than the others in our group. You've proven time and time again that you are as invested in this cause as I am and I applaud you for your dedication."
Most of them nodded in acknowledgement, none daring to speak out of turn.
"Now, I would invite you all to infiltrate the castle donning new identities, however, I think you'd all do your best work wearing your own skin." He quirked a brow, glancing out the window as if he were in a trance. His eyes raked across the glowing orb of the moon hanging in the night sky, footsteps slowing to a stop before he turned around. "I'd like to give you all special tasks—responsibilities if you will. With the string of murders following in our wake, there have been more and more resistance against our cause. Lucius, I'd like you to keep an eye on the Mudbloods and Half-bloods; make a list if you must. Be wary of blood traitors, for they are just as tarnished and dirty as the impure."
The rugged blond bowed as he spoke. "Yes, my lord." Whether his compliance came from fear or from pure desire to please the Dark Lord was yet unclear, but it was enough.
Turning to Rodolphus, he smirked. "But of course we mustn't simply focus on the opposition. I hear the Carrows are very supportive and I'd like you to gauge their worth. As for you, Bellatrix, I'm trusting you with Hufflepuff's cup and asking that you keep an eye on that unruly cousin of yours. The defiant one that smeared dirt on your family's name is called, Sirius if I'm not mistaken?" There was a curt nod from the raven-haired woman that prompted a small smile from him. "Yes, make sure he doesn't do anything to endanger our cause and see about his brother. Surely he doesn't hold the same sentiment for the unworthy. And Avery, dear friend of mine, I give you the painful responsibility of befriending 'Saint Potter.' I hear he's made quite a reputation for himself and as unfortunate as it may be, he shows promise. Along with him, I hope you'll keep an eye on the diadem. I don't need to tell any of you how important these tasks are, nor do I need to remind you of what will happen should any one of you betrayed me. I'd hate to lose such supportive allies."
"Yes, my lord."
The response was spoken loudly and clearly, as if they had all rehearsed beforehand to synchronize their answer. Bellatrix Lestrange stepped forward as if to say something to Voldemort, but was held back by her husband who was already pulling up the hood of his cloak. Begrudgingly, she mirrored the action, bowing low before all four of them disapparated into thin air.
There he stood—alone, pensive, and trembling with anticipation all at once. How long he had thirsted for his rise to power, for all those beneath him to both revere and fear him. Tom Riddle was nothing more than a bad memory, and now, all that stood in his way were the ignorant fools who had deluded themselves to believing in a code of conduct—in morality. It was nothing more than an illusion. When forced to choose between the life of others and themselves, they always… always chose themselves. It was the sad, undeniable truth about humans. He would break accepted standards regarding his humanity, free himself from the endless cycle of life and death.
Never again will he be underestimated or stunted by his humanity. Never again will he be weak in the face of his own future. Never. Again.