MyLord
By: TheBlackBook
«My Lord! They are here! » a man yelled as he came running in through the large door leading into the huge Hall. He was breathing heavily as he fell to one knee, in front of the head table and throne like chair.
The man was blond haired, and had several scars running over his cheeks.
"One moment," a male, draped in black battle robes said. He was leaning over a magnificent pensive, decorated in the finest of rubies. Eyes glaring down at the ornamented bowl as pictures flashed through it.
A woman stood to the side, her curly hair falling over her shoulders, eyes calculating as they watched him.
"Here you say?"
"Yes, they are just by the gates. I fear it will not hold them much longer – the wards are barely holding them back."
"They will hold long enough," another man said, off to the side. He sat by the other end of the table, wand playing in his hand. His eyes sparkled by the thought of the blood soon to be spilled.
He nodded anxiously, his gaze falling on the man standing by the pensive once more. The pure magic radiating from him was enough to make people respectful even if they were fearful to begin with, but that was why they made him their lord after all.
The man finally looked up, his gaze falling on him.
"I have it," he said, and both of his closest supporters stared at him determined.
"It will be done tonight. It will be over."
The bloodthirsty man gave a grin that showed all of his teeth. It was understandable of course - he had lost his entire family in this war.
The woman on the other hand, looked over at him closely, her eyes just as calculating.
"We will help you. Just say the word, my Lord."
"Yes, my Lord, we are all at your service." the other man grinned viciously.
The black clad man looked over at both of them, before giving a tired sigh.
"Then let's go – and will you stop it with this 'Lord' bullshit already?" he said, as he glared at them.
"Can't help it mate," the man at his side grinned, "it's what the people want after all, your majesty."
"I didn't bloody agree to this," he said, as he walked around the table, his two companions joining him.
"You didn't really agree to the title of Boy-Who-Lived either, Harry, but it's who you are…" Hermione said with an impish smirk.
"My Lord… They are waiting," the blond man stated as he looked at him.
The, once, Boy-Who-Lived, and now youngest light Lord in history, gave him a long stare.
His green-eyed glare was more deadly than playful.
"Can't you just call me by my name, Neville?"
Neville smiled.
"Wouldn't dream of it, my Lord."
Harry gave another tired sigh, before he walked through the doors, his followers joining him.
"Let just end this war already. Then, we can go back to that tittle stuff, and how to remove it."