This story began at www.darkmark.com and I decided after a while to bring
it here too.
Disclaimer: This story based on the series by JK Rowling. She owns Harry Potter and his world, though I do own the plot I came up with and some of the new characters. Other characters belong to other members of darkmark.com and I have their permission to use them.
Prologue
Upon the twilight of every third day, the cemetery that lay just outside the town of Little Hangleton would be infested with mysterious people dressed all in black, hiding their heads with the hoods of their robes so not to be seen. A few of the townspeople who happened to be mourning the loss of loved ones that day constantly saw hordes of them standing around the grave of Tom Riddle, who had never been one to have friends to mourn his death. The mourners in black would not lay flowers upon his grave, nor do much of anything except stand around and look down upon the man whom had suddenly fallen dead for no apparent reason whatsoever some time ago. The townspeople would point and look at the black-cloaked mourners, but never ask why they stood there like they did. They would watch and see if they went anywhere or did anything, but tired of that just as the sun would sink lower and the stars began to appear. Being in the creepy cemetery at night was not a pleasant sight and the people of Little Hangleton would leave the mourners be in their state of silence.
Once the sun had sunk and the darkness hid them all in the inky blackness of the sky, one of the black-cloaked people would remove an old worn shoe from his pocket and allow all of his fellow mourners to touch the object. The old clock in town would chime twelve times to signal that midnight had arrived, and the mourners no longer stood in a semi-circle around the grave of Tom Riddle, but at a dark tomb long forgotten far from the place called Little Hangleton.
The entire inside of the tomb was made completely of stone, though much of it was losing the battle to time and had begun to erode and crack. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt while spiders made little homes for themselves in the corners and crevices. If it weren't for the few burning torches above them, the tomb would have been entrapped in total darkness. It wasn't the cleanest or friendliest place to meet anyone for anything, but still the mourners in black waited there for someone very important to them all every time and tonight was no different from any other.
A gust of chilly wind blew through the tomb only a moment after their arrival, making their spines shiver and their teeth chatter in the bitter cold. A certain aura began to fill every corner of the room with greed, ruthlessness and above all evil, enslaving the people's hearts and making them crave their deep desires of power. A misty cloud of grey fog appeared magically swirling like a little tornado before its' people, its' followers, its' family. For some seconds it entranced the followers until the cloud disappeared and revealed a man cloaked in black like the rest of them. The followers suddenly fell to their knees and bowed to their master.
"Stand," he commanded all of them at once, glaring at each one of them with his snake-like red eyes that glowed like the fires of the miserable afterlife. All before him stood on his order, and waited for their master to speak.
"Every three nights," he began to speak raising his glowing crinkled white hands above them all to add to the drama of his speech, "we meet in this tomb. I give you instructions on how to make life for our beloved Ministry a living nightmare. We scheme our plans on how we shall take control and plunge society into eternal darkness. We plan Muggle tortures and think of ways to have complete power over our world."
The followers, whom were called Death Eaters by their master, nodded along with his speech agreeing with all that he said. It was all true to them.
"But tonight," he began again, "it all comes together to ensure a victory for our side!"
With a sweep of his robes and a step to the side, he revealed the wall behind him. Before it had just looked like a normal wall to all of them, made of eroding cracking stone just like the three others that surrounded them. Tonight however, it seemed different. The stones seemed to be arranged in a circle and seemed to have little circular holes all around it, perfectly shaped unlike the cracks as if to fit something inside of them.
One of the cloaked followers asked very timidly, in fear of what his master might think of him, "My Lord, what is it?"
"The protection which holds our triumph," their master began to explain his master plan "a secret weapon that we shall use to take the victory that we deserve so much. It has been secreted in these armoured walls for centuries and will be unleashed only if all the keys to the vault are in their places. With it, we shall shroud this world into our control and bring about darkness."
The Death Eaters were filled with much interest on this knowledge as they began to speak amongst themselves. A weapon, a secret weapon that could bring them success, was of much importance to them as it could bring their win much sooner than they would have suspected. No more waiting in the dark and slowly making their plans for shadowing the world, it could happen right there and than if they wanted.
"Let us open it than my Lord," one eagerly spoke forward.
"Patience Tomson," his master held out his hand to stop the conversation that was going along. "It is not the time yet. We shall unleash the horrors upon this world when time comes, but remember that timing is everything."
One of the black-cloaked men stepped forward, raising a question for his master to answer. "My Lord," he began with a quiver in his speech, "may I ask what keys you speak of? The vault holds no holes for a key to fit."
"Than you need to take a closer look," his master replied, taking his follower's neck and pushing him hard against the wall to see. His follower's face held so much pain in the cheek, but his eyes opened enough to look upon the vault.
"What do you see?" his master hissed to him.
"I see," his follower began to speak, guessing at what he meant, "I see holes in shapes of circles my Lord."
His master released him from his grasp and allowed his follower to return to his spot in the semi-circle, rubbing his neck and cheek to rid himself of the pain that resided in them.
"You are correct," he said to his follower, showing what he held in one of his hand to all of his family. "Twenty holes to fit twenty of these gems."
In his hand lay exactly twenty tiny green gemstones, easily mistaken as emeralds as they sparkled and shone in the torchlight. His followers awed over them for a moment before their master's hand shut tight over them again.
"Twenty gems, twenty followers," he told them with a laugh in his voice. "Each of you shall hold onto one of the twenty gems until the night in which we can release the secrets of the vault."
He began to walk around the semi-circle, dropping a gem into each other followers' hands. Each of the followers grasped it tightly in their fists and put them safely into their pockets. Once he had completed his round around the semi-circle, he addressed them once more.
"Keep them secret," he demanded of them all in a low hissing voice like a snake. "Keep them hidden. Disguise them in things and speak not of them. You may go."
The Death Eaters began to disperse magically, leaving in a poof of smoke one by one as their master watched. The last Death Eater was just about to raise his arms and let himself go home when an icy cold white hand reached out and grabbed him, preventing him from leaving.
"I wanted to speak with you," his master hissed, his glowing eyes raging brighter red.
The Death Eater spun around and kissed the hand of his master out of respect. He got down on one knee and listened closely to his master.
"I suspect something in Moon," he said very plainly to his follower as he rose from the ground and stood in front of his master and listened to what he was speaking of. "His loyalty is not completely with me any longer. Other thoughts cloud his mind. Do you have an idea of what could be holding him back from me my servant?"
"I have no idea my Lord," his follower stated honestly, not knowing at the fall in faith of his fellow follower.
"Whatever it is," the master spoke again, "it's holding him back from his full potential. This barrier must be eliminated." His white fist clenched, causing a rock that he picked up off the floor to disintegrate into a powder.
"Give him a chance my Lord," his follower suggested. "I'm sure he'll come back to realize this. He will give you his full allegiance."
"Let us hope Lucius," the Dark Lord spoke as he gazed upon his stone vault embedded in the wall with his snake eyes, "or soon Moon will have to feel the wrath of Lord Voldemort."
Disclaimer: This story based on the series by JK Rowling. She owns Harry Potter and his world, though I do own the plot I came up with and some of the new characters. Other characters belong to other members of darkmark.com and I have their permission to use them.
Prologue
Upon the twilight of every third day, the cemetery that lay just outside the town of Little Hangleton would be infested with mysterious people dressed all in black, hiding their heads with the hoods of their robes so not to be seen. A few of the townspeople who happened to be mourning the loss of loved ones that day constantly saw hordes of them standing around the grave of Tom Riddle, who had never been one to have friends to mourn his death. The mourners in black would not lay flowers upon his grave, nor do much of anything except stand around and look down upon the man whom had suddenly fallen dead for no apparent reason whatsoever some time ago. The townspeople would point and look at the black-cloaked mourners, but never ask why they stood there like they did. They would watch and see if they went anywhere or did anything, but tired of that just as the sun would sink lower and the stars began to appear. Being in the creepy cemetery at night was not a pleasant sight and the people of Little Hangleton would leave the mourners be in their state of silence.
Once the sun had sunk and the darkness hid them all in the inky blackness of the sky, one of the black-cloaked people would remove an old worn shoe from his pocket and allow all of his fellow mourners to touch the object. The old clock in town would chime twelve times to signal that midnight had arrived, and the mourners no longer stood in a semi-circle around the grave of Tom Riddle, but at a dark tomb long forgotten far from the place called Little Hangleton.
The entire inside of the tomb was made completely of stone, though much of it was losing the battle to time and had begun to erode and crack. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt while spiders made little homes for themselves in the corners and crevices. If it weren't for the few burning torches above them, the tomb would have been entrapped in total darkness. It wasn't the cleanest or friendliest place to meet anyone for anything, but still the mourners in black waited there for someone very important to them all every time and tonight was no different from any other.
A gust of chilly wind blew through the tomb only a moment after their arrival, making their spines shiver and their teeth chatter in the bitter cold. A certain aura began to fill every corner of the room with greed, ruthlessness and above all evil, enslaving the people's hearts and making them crave their deep desires of power. A misty cloud of grey fog appeared magically swirling like a little tornado before its' people, its' followers, its' family. For some seconds it entranced the followers until the cloud disappeared and revealed a man cloaked in black like the rest of them. The followers suddenly fell to their knees and bowed to their master.
"Stand," he commanded all of them at once, glaring at each one of them with his snake-like red eyes that glowed like the fires of the miserable afterlife. All before him stood on his order, and waited for their master to speak.
"Every three nights," he began to speak raising his glowing crinkled white hands above them all to add to the drama of his speech, "we meet in this tomb. I give you instructions on how to make life for our beloved Ministry a living nightmare. We scheme our plans on how we shall take control and plunge society into eternal darkness. We plan Muggle tortures and think of ways to have complete power over our world."
The followers, whom were called Death Eaters by their master, nodded along with his speech agreeing with all that he said. It was all true to them.
"But tonight," he began again, "it all comes together to ensure a victory for our side!"
With a sweep of his robes and a step to the side, he revealed the wall behind him. Before it had just looked like a normal wall to all of them, made of eroding cracking stone just like the three others that surrounded them. Tonight however, it seemed different. The stones seemed to be arranged in a circle and seemed to have little circular holes all around it, perfectly shaped unlike the cracks as if to fit something inside of them.
One of the cloaked followers asked very timidly, in fear of what his master might think of him, "My Lord, what is it?"
"The protection which holds our triumph," their master began to explain his master plan "a secret weapon that we shall use to take the victory that we deserve so much. It has been secreted in these armoured walls for centuries and will be unleashed only if all the keys to the vault are in their places. With it, we shall shroud this world into our control and bring about darkness."
The Death Eaters were filled with much interest on this knowledge as they began to speak amongst themselves. A weapon, a secret weapon that could bring them success, was of much importance to them as it could bring their win much sooner than they would have suspected. No more waiting in the dark and slowly making their plans for shadowing the world, it could happen right there and than if they wanted.
"Let us open it than my Lord," one eagerly spoke forward.
"Patience Tomson," his master held out his hand to stop the conversation that was going along. "It is not the time yet. We shall unleash the horrors upon this world when time comes, but remember that timing is everything."
One of the black-cloaked men stepped forward, raising a question for his master to answer. "My Lord," he began with a quiver in his speech, "may I ask what keys you speak of? The vault holds no holes for a key to fit."
"Than you need to take a closer look," his master replied, taking his follower's neck and pushing him hard against the wall to see. His follower's face held so much pain in the cheek, but his eyes opened enough to look upon the vault.
"What do you see?" his master hissed to him.
"I see," his follower began to speak, guessing at what he meant, "I see holes in shapes of circles my Lord."
His master released him from his grasp and allowed his follower to return to his spot in the semi-circle, rubbing his neck and cheek to rid himself of the pain that resided in them.
"You are correct," he said to his follower, showing what he held in one of his hand to all of his family. "Twenty holes to fit twenty of these gems."
In his hand lay exactly twenty tiny green gemstones, easily mistaken as emeralds as they sparkled and shone in the torchlight. His followers awed over them for a moment before their master's hand shut tight over them again.
"Twenty gems, twenty followers," he told them with a laugh in his voice. "Each of you shall hold onto one of the twenty gems until the night in which we can release the secrets of the vault."
He began to walk around the semi-circle, dropping a gem into each other followers' hands. Each of the followers grasped it tightly in their fists and put them safely into their pockets. Once he had completed his round around the semi-circle, he addressed them once more.
"Keep them secret," he demanded of them all in a low hissing voice like a snake. "Keep them hidden. Disguise them in things and speak not of them. You may go."
The Death Eaters began to disperse magically, leaving in a poof of smoke one by one as their master watched. The last Death Eater was just about to raise his arms and let himself go home when an icy cold white hand reached out and grabbed him, preventing him from leaving.
"I wanted to speak with you," his master hissed, his glowing eyes raging brighter red.
The Death Eater spun around and kissed the hand of his master out of respect. He got down on one knee and listened closely to his master.
"I suspect something in Moon," he said very plainly to his follower as he rose from the ground and stood in front of his master and listened to what he was speaking of. "His loyalty is not completely with me any longer. Other thoughts cloud his mind. Do you have an idea of what could be holding him back from me my servant?"
"I have no idea my Lord," his follower stated honestly, not knowing at the fall in faith of his fellow follower.
"Whatever it is," the master spoke again, "it's holding him back from his full potential. This barrier must be eliminated." His white fist clenched, causing a rock that he picked up off the floor to disintegrate into a powder.
"Give him a chance my Lord," his follower suggested. "I'm sure he'll come back to realize this. He will give you his full allegiance."
"Let us hope Lucius," the Dark Lord spoke as he gazed upon his stone vault embedded in the wall with his snake eyes, "or soon Moon will have to feel the wrath of Lord Voldemort."