Ok, so this is my first story.

Disclaimers: I am not a professional. Some facts of the original story may be a little bit skewed bare with me. This won't be a fast up dating story. I apologize. Just trying it out and seeing how I like it.

I do not own Any Harry potter.

There are multiple sayings that float throughout the air. Each one as cryptic as the next. For instance, ' Misery loves company' , a popular one amongst the general population. 'Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all' , is this really true? If you really take into perspective what you are saying when you utter that line, is it really true?

The final one, the final saying that brings all certainty to a screeching halt. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' . In this one particular line infinite possibilities race on throughout the mind. Who is this woman and how was she scorned? Is it even a woman? What fury can they unleash that hell itself cowers away from them?

Just questions and more questions followed by self-medicated answers. The date was the 2nd of May 2008 in the harsh winter of United Kingdom. This day was special to the entire world that could produce magic. The 10th year anniversary to the fall of Voldemort and most of his followers. Also, this day stood as a mark of all who fought and died bravely to free the wizarding world.

The first 6 years was bit of a festival to relish in the joy of the lives that are free and the celebrated memory of loved ones. Dances were frequent; laughter rang out, in what seemed like the country, from door to door. The people became ignorant and decadent. They forgot quickly the world could relapse and send everything bright back into darkness.

What was it that brought the first Dark Lord to power in the first place? The temperament of a young boy left to fester to the point of derangement? The rose colored glasses glued on which led to blind vision as a maturing young adult spread his personal hatred amongst weak minds or like views. Needless to say it was an ocean full of cold water to the face when once again; the people were faced with darkness and oppressions from one that cleverly rose to power.

Green eyes soaked up the many names written on the wall in front of him. Heavy heart nearly bursting with sorrow and guilt. He had been here many times before silently begging for forgiveness. The pictures donated from families greeted him with warm smiles and waves. He had none to offer them in return. Untidy, black hair whipped through the wind and a lone tear starting a path for the rest that would soon follow. Ten years of this. To the outside world he was a man, built strong and knowledgeable. Inside he was the same child that lost so much, gave everything he had, and at the same time nothing. The child that fought alongside others to help free the world, the boy who lived. His green eyes scanned across the wall and fell on one name in particular.

Ronald Billius Weasley

War Hero

'Golden trio Member'

1 March, 1980- 5 May, 2002

It's too much and the boy who lived broke down and wept. There was nothing, no way to see this coming. There was no signs…well, there were signs. In fact the man had went over every little detail in his mind to see what he missed, what he choose to ignore.

A small hand squeezed his shoulder in comfort. "I miss him too, love." Her voice soft and welcomed to his broken state. "I'm sorry Gin, it's just so hard. I could have saved him, I could have done something if-" His sobs rack through the grounds.

"You didn't know. It's not your fault, Harry. We all should have seen the signs and stopped this." Now tears spilled down her freckled cheek and her husband pulls her to his chest. The picture of their slain brother smiling kindly at them doing nothing to sooth them.

Heavy footsteps approach the two but neither moved. "Forgive me, we must go. The order is waiting." The rough voice croaked out to the couple. It was clear that he too had shed tears and wished he didn't have to break them up.

"Harry, we have to go." Ginny calls to her shaking husband. Reluctantly, the man turned to face their new arrival. Draco had maintained much of his boyish looks with hints of light stubble on his chin. His ever so blonde hair slicked back and his body dressed to perfection.

The war changed everything that was Draco Malfoy, snobbish pureblood, into a man worthy to be called friend. His actions, not so honorable at first, turned out to be worth its weight in gold after it all ended. The boy shown great knowledge and a kind spirit through his upbringing. The quick wit with spells, and more so potions, lead him to become one of the best potions masters Hogwarts has ever seen. When the couple turned towards him he offered the little ginger a short hug. Afterwards he took his new found brother into his arms tightly with little murmurs of thank yous and I'm sorrys. With a final glance the small group apparated to their meeting.

The house at 12 Grimmauld Place was alerted to the light pop of their travel. Little feet came running down the stairs towards them. "Mum!" The one word shouted as Ginny was barreled into by her youngest and only daughter. Next, hard stomping with sounds of fighting also approached them.

"Move! Dad! Mum! Get off!"

"Your fault! Mum Tell'em to move!" Two wild boys fought their way to their parents and sister.

"Boys, stop fighting and act your age." Harry 'fathers' to them with hints of amusement coloring his tone. The playful glint in his wife's eyes didn't go unnoticed by him as well. The oldest, James Sirius Potter, was the more playful of the three. A signature smirk almost always on his face. Dark, curly hair that nearly covered his brown eyes. He was the first out of his match with his brother to reach his dad, mother and uncle.

"That wasn't very nice, James. Apologize to your brother." The stern voice made the boy flinch and immediately do so. Albus, the middle child, was just like his father to the letter. Untidy, jet black hair, piercing green eyes, and shy almost awkward demeanor to boot. All three as lovely as their mother but the winner was their sister.

Strawberry red hair like her mother, light brown eyes, and cute little freckles on her cheeks. The children had missed their parents terribly and normally clung to them after such travels. They've only been to the memorial once, except for lily, before they were forced to wait safely indoors until their parents returned. The days had come to this for them. Although they didn't understand completely they didn't question their parents motives.

"Have you been good to your godfather boys?"

"They've been about as good as young boys could be." A voice muses out to the gathering crowd. One tall, gruff Neville Longbottom joined them with smiles to the two young ones.

"Somehow I'm more worried by that." Harry quips embracing the longtime friend and order member. "Don't fret Harry, they were perfect. Neville just likes his dramatics." Luna Lovegood, now Longbottom, jest to her sheepish husband. The pair made a good coupling to everyone.

"Draco, your mother owled." At the news the slytherin excuses himself to attend to the matter. "Has everyone gathered?" Harry asks now holding his daughter. Both Neville and Luna nod. Harry sighs tightly and lowers his precious cargo back to the ground.

"You lot go on and play upstairs and please stay there. I don't want you snooping around like last time, James." He gives a pointed looked to his eldest who now has a mischievous glint and trademark smirk. Harry smiles and ruffles his not so neat hair while Ginny fixes it. The pair of boys fight their way back upstairs with the little ginger hot on their heels. When the coast was clear, they made their way into the dining room where the rest awaited them.

"How's your mum, Draco?" The man flinches at the question but stabilizes quickly. "She's ok. Just checking in on us." His answer left for questions but the golden boy didn't want to upset his friend any further. Once the silencing charm was cast the meeting was underway. Around the table sat both old and new members from the first and second war. Neville, Luna, Harry, Ginny, Draco, Dean, Seamus, Andromeda Tonks, Minerva, Kingsley, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, George, Bill, and Fleur. Stern and grim faces gazed to one another waiting for Kingsley to begin.

The man took his stand and finally addressed the room. "As I'm sure you've all heard there has been more attacks around the ministry and the country. Reports of missing persons and killings have increased in pattern as well." All nod and murmur at the news. "There are whispers of the head mastermind moving to gather followers." Kingsley pauses carefully unsure as how to phrase this next part for Harry's sake. "They are saying that a new Dark Lord is taking power."

"It can't be!" Harry's outburst startles the room. "It can't be true! Voldemort is dead and his followers are either dead with him or locked up!"

"But there are still those that pose a threat to our world and people. Surely you haven't forgotten?" Harry's jaw clenches and his fist tightens. Ginny, catching on to the oncoming anger places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"No, I haven't forgotten, but I refuse to believe this." Seamus, the voice that has been trying to make him see reason, hardens his gaze on the golden boy.

"Just because you refuse to believe doesn't make it not true. You have to see the facts, Harry. The couples killed in their homes, attacks in both our world and the muggle world, your own brother-in-law! Cut down like nothing! All these facts laid in front of you, all these years with cold hard proof and you still can't believe it!"

His tone softens and eyes take one of sorrow for his friend. "She's not coming back, mate."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry was on his feet grasping for his wand ready to hex the member of their group. Both Draco and Ginny hold him back as Seamus sits stock still awaiting his punishment. He knew what he was doing and what the consequences held when he mentioned her. It was a touchy subject for the golden boy and bringing it up was certain anger and denial from the boy who lived.

In truth it sadden him just as much to force the truth in front of Harry giving him no place to hide. Once the commotion settled a bit, Kingsley continued on. "There has been postings of a mark going around. More and more sited throughout the places where death has been or will come." The tall, dark skinned man passes around pictures to the order of said mark.

The simple picture held the head of a lion skull, dark and menacing to look at. It's mane intact telling that it was in fact a lion. A crown of dead roses and thorns atop its boney head. Faintly in the bush of thorns, a serpent was spotted. A single bloody tear falling from its right eye socket. Much like Voldemort's mark, it moved when active. A man being brought into custody in the picture was showing off his mark on his right forearm. The lion skull was roaring with intensity while the serpent slithered throughout the crown.

It was a creepy feeling to watch and everything about it screamed dread and pain. Draco studied the information with care. He has seen this mark before. Years ago but a certain place and time escaped him at the moment. Harry, like the others, stared at the photo in misery. Each movement of it brought him closer to accepting the fact that there was in deed a new Dark Lord upon them.

Clouds moved in each one as dark as the one before. A storm was creeping up on them. Ready to dose them with heavy rain and sharp lightening to fit the mood. Far off in the lands of the English Wizarding world stood a dark manor three stories high. The old Victorian style house was kept nicely, the land around it was dead. A garden adorned the back yard full of crumbling leaves and vines snaking their way around. Grown up statues and a fountain in the front. Cold, hard steel gate shutting out the world outside. The current and constant weather matching the dark, crusty look to everything.

Inside the noble home, a grand staircase on both sides leading up to the second and third level. Dust was starting to collect upon the items around. In truth it was somewhat of a museum. Treasured furniture sat still, fine china virtually unused and a lone occupant shut up tightly in the master study. Not a sound was heard throughout the house. The figure sat sullenly in the high chair, sweaty hands clutched on to a picture frame so tight it would crack at any moment.

It was of two people, both women, smiles so wide their faces could split. One happily twirling the other in companionship. The other, laughing at their shorter counterpart's antics. They would turn and laugh before turning to the holder and waving. A single tear dropped onto the picture and it sounded like a bomb going off in the still house. The weight of it so heavy it almost cracked the frame. A boney, pale hand reaches shakily up to the source of the leaky part. For the past 6 years on this day it has always been the same for them. Sitting in the room alone with this picture and their sorrow.

The figure slams the picture back onto the mantel and stands knocking the chair over. It doesn't stop there as spells are cast destroying the room in the fury. Wood splintered and feathers floated around the room from the discarded furniture. The sound vibrated the entire house with each cast of their wand. After a while the house settled back into it's still, quiet state. In the middle of the desecrated room stood the now shaking figure.

5'7 in height with a lean and somewhat malnourished body, trembling pink lips, and long brown hair. She'd changed over the years, from a young girl to a full adult with promise, to this. A strong, furious shell of a woman. The tears flew heavily from sunken, dead brown eyes and each breath harsh and heavy. Gone was Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of her Age, in place was The Dark Mistress, Most Ruthless Witch in History.

And she would make them pay, she would make them all pay.

So There's the first chapter. Remember this isn't a fast updating story. It's merely a test run. I may take it down . I'm not sure. Either way, enjoy all the same.