PROLOGUE

In the emptiness where time and space ceased to exist, power long diverged twisted in upon itself, unable to reconcile, unable to fully part. Seven shards of a broken soul struggled against each other, attempting to both meld and break away from each other. Too long had they been separate and too deeply had each been steeped in the vilest of power, drenched in the blood of innocents, for the innate oneness of a pure soul to overpower the detachment of its parts.

The coruscating energy fought itself, nowhere to go, until, with a final effort, it destroyed itself, breaching the very boundaries between worlds, opening up a minuscule tear in the fabric of the universe.

Tentatively, then with increasing confidence, tendrils of an evil that had long been trapped away began to seep out into the ether, tasting this world that had changed so much since last it had been free. Slowly, it undulated towards the edges of oblivion, where it could sense the glorious feast of sensation awaiting it, an overripe fruit just waiting to fall.

Gathering the vestiges of the form it had once known, but too weakened by millennia of captivity to do more, it moved slowly, slowly, at an agonizing rate in this void where distance had no meaning and yet seemed so vast around it.

It considered the creature whose destruction had allowed its release. It felt no gratitude, however vague, for its freedom; it had no understanding of such a concept. However, it used the residues of the creature's power to gain the knowledge Voldemort had had of his life. It wished to learn what had caused such destruction, what had provided such an exquisite explosion of evil and power. Perhaps, the vessel of this Voldemort's destruction could harm it?

Ageless as the universe itself, the entity had never forgotten those that had imprisoned it. As such, it would not discount its foes in this new age of the world, even though the foolish human's power and skill had been as nothing next to that which it possessed.

Carefully untangling the remnants of what was once Voldemort, it found hints of a pale human child, with brilliant green eyes and power that it could taste even in the residues of a completely obliterated creature's power. Exquisite . . . the thrill of draining this one of his strength would feed it for several centuries, perhaps millennia.

In the meanwhile, it would gather its strength and learn and try to remember what it had meant to be human.