Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, and even some of that is not mine. All belongs to the great JK Rowling. I do this purely for my own enjoyment, and perhaps to the utter misery of others **coughA.B.cough**, who would like nothing better than for me to stop. Sorry fellas, not gonna happen…
Summary: Forbidden curses and ancient magic, brooding Potion Masters, manipulative twinkling smiles, dark lords with diabolical connections and, of course, the unforgettable bushy-haired genius. HG/SS
Rating may change.
All spelling and grammatical errors are mine (this is what happens when there is no beta, can't blame blunders on anyone else… *kidding*). I have read so many stories that it is most probable that I might have 'gleaned' things off other authors. If you recognize anything that is yours, I apologize and would be more than happy to acknowledge you. Please do not take offense. For now, I think that Mavidian and Regann are the biggest factors and sources of inspiration.
Reviews and comments (including the dreaded flames) are more than welcome. If I steer towards clichés, please let me know IMMEDIATELY, but I think I have enough twists planned to veer away from the danger zone.
Prologue
Wormtail had strived for glory. Glory, at last, would be his.
Of that, Wormtail was certain.
A wave of paranoia hit him. He clutched frantically at his pockets for the umpteenth time, and relaxed as his grubby fingers touched smooth leather. He patted the precious, bulky cargo, reassuring himself of its existence.
The Dark Lord would be infinitely pleased. Wormtail drew his robes tighter around his body, hugging them against the chill of the night. His heart thudded wildly with giddy anticipation. No gift could compete with the Memoirs of Lady Zeirka; except perhaps Dumbledore's lifeless head crowned upon Potter's dead body.
The Dark Lord would be pleased and he, Wormtail, would rise to glory.
* * * * *
"Headmaster!"
Severus Snape burst into Dumbledore's office; his eyes alight with dark fire. The Potions Master's normally unreadable features were contorted; his expression betraying raw fear. There was a tinge of indefinable urgency to his stance, his roughened voice.
It is too early in the day, sighed the Headmaster, for anything.
"Calm down, child." soothed Dumbledore, as Fawkes lost his balance and fell off the perch. The chagrined phoenix shook his feathers and glared at Snape haughtily, before flying toward Dumbledore's beckoning arm.
"I received word from young Mr. Malfroy regarding the most recent Death Eater gathering," began Snape grimly, "and, it seems that the Dark Lord was delighted. So much that he referred to that idiot – Wormtail – as his Favored One."
"Ah. Yes. As in accordance with Mr. Potter's dream-vision. Go on." nodded Dumbledore, frowning slightly. "Did Mr. Malfroy mention why?"
"It seems that Wormtail has done the unthinkable." Severus sank into a chair, rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"Which would be?" The Headmaster prompted with slight irritation. Really! The boy had yet to learn how to curb his dramatic tendencies.
"Stealing what had been guarded for eight centuries." Snape paused and breathed deeply. "The Memoirs of Lady Zeirka are currently in the possession of Lord Voldemort."
There was a tense silence.
"What do we do, Albus?" asked Snape wretchedly, after awhile.
"Nothing. We wait and watch and pray."
"Like always." snapped Snape, angry.
"What do you want me to do, child?" The wizened wizard asked, his blue eyes devoid of their ethereal glow and twinkle. "What do you propose we do?"
Snape pressed his lips into a thin, bloodless line and said nothing.
"Exactly." Dumbledore leaned back into his chair. "Tom won't let that book out of his sight. We will remain vigilant, of course, but there will be little chance of recovering it. Tell Draco, - Listen! Pay me heed Severus Snape! – firmly instruct Mr. Malfroy not to endanger himself whistle trying to recapture the book or some equally foolish endeavor. He is too valuable among Voldemort's ranks to be lost crying over spilt milk. And kindly ask Madam Pince to retrieve the remaining ancient texts from Wizberlot as swiftly as possible. Meanwhile, send a notice to Minerva, Filius and Fleora: they must be told immediately."
Snape nodded, almost numb. "What will you do?"
"I'll send a word to Fudge; as much as I hate to admit it, he will need to know about this. As will the rest of the Order." The older wizard conjured a quill and parchment. He looked thoughtfully passed the head of the brooding man sitting in front of him, staring distantly at a invisible point. "Inform the others that their will be a staff meeting." He added, absently stroking is beard.
"When? We can't do it today. Many are still on vacation." Snape spat the last word out, disgusted, as if it were a dark, illegal indulgence.
"Nor tomorrow – things are quite hectic after the Sorting. " pondered Dumbledore.
"Quite." agreed Snape, thinking of the chaotic jumble of first years, last minute curriculum preparations and God-Knows-What-Else.
"It'll have to be after the second day of lessons." The old man said.
"Won't that be too long?"
"I do not think that Voldemort will act in such haste."
Snape could almost hear his mentor's brain thinking, working, plotting, ticking. Knowing he had been dismissed, he strode out of the office and set off executing the Headmaster's instructions with practiced efficiency.
"Of course, Headmaster."
Lost in deep contemplation, Albus Dumbledore barely heard him.
* * * * *
Extract from:
The Memoirs of Lady Zeirka
Pg 249
… and so with boldly spoken words, clutching the horn of a unicorn in one shaking hand, She stirred the core of the dragon; its rage, its madness, waking the forsaken creature from its peaceful slumber. Thick, garnet blood rose heatedly from the cauldron where the last of the slain dragon bubbled. A rich torrent flowed upwards into the night, a red velveteen river rose to kiss Her outstretched palm.
"Be Damned Salazar!" She cursed Her lover vehemently. It was for his own good. "Be Damned!"
With those humble words, the dragon rose. Bloody droplets splattered on Her face, staining Her sallow skin, while Her eyes closed in ecstasy.
She embraced the sweet wetness, knowing that miles away, a man called Salazar Slytherin would do what his heart least desired.
He would abandon that strange land, that queer castle of his. And then, he would be free.
He would come to her…
* * * * *
"Headmaster? You called?" asked Severus, a bit disgruntled at being interrupted in the middle of the night, his displeasure snubbed by concern.
"I have just received Charlie Weasley's owl–" sighed Dumbledore at the head bobbing up and down in his fireplace. "A Norwegian Ridgeback has not been sighted by Keeper's for awhile: it seems that the dragon has abandoned her nest."
"Nest?" questioned Snape.
"A nest of seven eggs, two of which have hatched." replied Dumbledore uncharacteristically morose. "It makes it even more peculiar for a mother dragon to disappear for days while nursing the young."
"We know better, don't we?" Snape ran a elegant hand through his greasy hair; an unconscious movement designed to relieve stress. He winced. Another thing to sort out for tomorrow: greasy hair.
"Yes, we do child."
"What does the boy know?"
"Mr. Weasley is part of the Order, Severus. He already knows the whole story, else I doubt he would have alerted me to the humble matter of a dragon's disappearance."
The two men stared at each other.
"Well, the boy always did have impeccable timing." said Snape derisively, before vanishing into a blur of green flames.
* * * * *
"Hermione!" Ginny squealed, pulling the older girl into a warm hug. "Congratulations, girl!"
The two remaining Weasleys at Hogwarts, along with the Boy Who Lived had Floo-ed from the Burrow, as Hermione had done so from her parent's house, directly to the Gryffindor common room. Traveling by train had become quite unsafe for the four, especially since they were prime targets for the Death Eaters.
Hermione responded just as enthusiastically, before the firing into a conversation, tongues jabbering at full speed. Over the years, with Hermione's quiet understanding and Ginny's growing maturity, the two girls had become quite close friends.
Ron rolled his eyes while Harry grinned at the particularly girlish display.
"Nice to see you too, 'Mione" said Ron, tweaking her bushy brown ponytail.
"Yeah. Ron and I just know how much you missed us with that heartfelt welcoming speech." Harry chimed in.
"Sarcasm is an art best left to the masters, Harry. Don't even try." Hermione said briskly. Then with a glint in her eye, she added pompously. "It's good to see you, boys."
Ron turned to Harry in mock horror. "Did you hear that, mate?" He paused, frowning. "Although, Percy was a bit quicker on picking up the Holier-Than-Thou Act."
"Had to happen sooner or later," agreed Harry, forlorn. "With being Head Girl and all. Still, she did call me Harry…"
"Well, you're the Boy-Who-Lived, aren't you? She's not about to forget your name in a hurry." retorted Ron. "Me, on the other hand…"
"C'mon, boys. There might hope for the old Hermione Granger yet," the Hogwart's Head Girl said, linking her arms through those of her best friends.
"Besides," Ginny added with a quick wink, "Anyone can see that she hasn't completely crossed over to the other side."
"How?" challenged Harry.
"She hasn't polished her badge nearly enough times."
"Let's move people." Hermione cut in. "The Sorting's about to start. We don't want to late."
Harry observed the retreating brown head, followed by a fiery red one as Ron started walking away towards the Great Hall. He turned to Ginny.
"You might want to reconsider that theory of yours, Gin." He laughed, pulling her to him and placing a slight kiss on her forehead. Ginny blushed and the pair hurried after the others.
* * * * *
… and so with boldly spoken words, clutching the horn of a unicorn in one shaking hand, He stirred the core of the dragon; its rage, its madness, waking the forsaken creature from its peaceful slumber. Thick, garnet blood rose heatedly from the cauldron where the last of the slain dragon bubbled. A rich torrent flowed up towards the sky, a red velveteen river rose to kiss His outstretched palm.
"Be Damned Mudblood!" He cursed. "Be Damned!"
With those humble words, the dragon rose. Bloody droplets splattered on His face, staining His sallow skin, while His eyes closed in ecstasy.
He embraced the sweet wetness, knowing that miles away, a woman called Hermione Granger would do what her heart least desired.
Then, she would come to Him…
Lord Voldemort smiled – a perversion contentment. He allowed Wormtail to lift his exhausted frame from the ground to his throne. Zeirka's Curse had taken a lot out of him – he would need a few weeks to recover. But it would be worth it, if all went according to plan.
The Dark Lord turned to his Favored One.
"Wormtail?"
"Yes, Master?" The pudgy man replied kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes.
One long, reptilian finger reached out to raise the other man's chin until human and monster were face-to-face.
"Well done, my child."
* * * * *
A/N: Okay, I can't get the damn formatting sorted, so I promise that future chapters will be better.
Did you like it? Too confusing? Don't fret… all will be revealed (**How many times have you heard that before, eh?**)
I apologize for spelling and grammatical errors, I don't have a beta…
In case you were wondering, the main ship will be HG/SS. Don't like. Don't read. Rating may change. For those of you who do not mind HG/SS, please be patient. You'll see the both of them quite soon, all though it will be… sorta… rocky. I have never believed that their two personalities would simply click, and I do NOT want to rush the story.
Reviews: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly are all welcome… even The Musings and General Discussions.
Enjoy and Happy New Year 2003/04!!