Harry sat bolt upright and looked around the room wildly. The walls were made of stone and hung with silver, green, and blue wall tapestries, The bed was made of a deep, rich mahogany that matched the floorboards with a soft blue canopy. Across the room, there was a plain door with a silver Basilisk inscribed over the handle, to the right a desk next to a light wood bookshelf, and one window, curiously unguarded. His head sank into his hands and he remembered the dream he had been having.
Two men sat in a large, cold room, their breath spiraling out before them in great white clouds. One man was pudgy, with a crumpled face and pinstriped trousers, hanging a lime-green bowler on one finger. The other was deathly pale, with a flat, slitted nose and sinister red eyes.
"Minister, or should I say... ex-minister? You have come to me with a proposition." The cold voice seemed to hang in the air long after the lipless mouth had closed.
"Erm. Yes... I mean.. yes." The Minister looked distinctly uncomfortable, with sweaty hands and rapidly blinking eyes.
"Erm, uh, I would like..uh, to enter, erm," here he paused and took a deep breath, "to enter myself into your service." He cringed as if expecting a spell to fly his way.
A dry, humorless laugh filled the vaulted ceiling, "A politician through and through, aren't you Cornelius? And a politician," another pause, "knows that nothing is given for free. What do you desire."
"Place me back as Minister and I will do your bidding, as you command..." he swallowed haltingly, "my Lord."
As the two conducted their business and came to an agreement, Harry let his eyes wander around the room, although he already knew every inch of it, he still inspected it every time a dream like this one came along. The only changes in this room were two small crystal balls, as clear as they come, resting upon a spindly, black table. Inside the balls were strands of swirling mist, strands that reminded Harry of something, something that he had seen before... A voice broke him from his thoughts. It was not the voice of the Minister who had just left, nor the one of the pale man, but a voice that was warm and caring. "Zane, did you really have to watch again?" The pale man turned towards Harry, but now he looked different, a mop of black hair hid a perpetually youthful face, he looked to be in his early thirties at the latest, his eyes a bright blue against the light tan of his face. "Go back to bed."
Zane groaned and stumbled out of bed to his dresser. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was only 5:30 in the morning. He shook his head from side to side, ignoring the shoulder length black hair that swished around his neck. As he pulled out his clothes for the day, -jeans and a green, skin tight T-shirt that matched his eyes- a snake about three feet long rose up from the drawer, hissing.
∮ Zssane, if you are going to wake me up, you could at leassst not hit me when you're pulling out you clothesss∮
Zane turned and looked blearily at the irate snake.
∮ Sssorry, Angua∮ (AN: an-guh-wa)
She bit him gently on the arm and the golden snake slithered up his forearm until she came to rest on his upper arm like a living, flexing armband. Waking up, he pulled out two more things from a special drawer, one leather hair tie that pulled his hair back into a low, lose ponytail so he didn't have to deal with it being in his face. The second thing he lifted out was a black, snakeskin face mask. It covered his forehead, eyes, cheekbones, and part of his nose in glittering black scales. It flexed with his muscles when his face moved, giving him a truly sinister appearance when he smiled. As he did so in the mirror, he thought of the reason why he smiled.
Today was his sixteenth birthday, his second birthday and his unveiling. Today it was sixteen years after he had been born. Today it was his second birthday as Zane, Voldemorts heir. Today was the day his existence would be announced to the world. Harry James Potter, also known as Zane watched as his smile grow twisted in the mirror.
Time to go scare some Death Eaters.