The usual stuff goes here. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. I don't have permission to use those long bits of text, but I'm not making any money or gaining any profit, save my life—I've been warned that if I don't continue with this and post it on that my life would be forfeit.
Nightfall found the broken children of Elmira-Lenore Orphanage for Girls shivering in their cells, staring out their barred windows and cringing every time footsteps passed the locked doors. The self-styled 'headmaster' of the place was not especially fond of children. In fact, he despised them, only using them for a release of anger.
Or lust.
One, and sometimes up to three girls got a visit each night.
Tonight was his favorite victim, a teen whose only name was Erra. Erra had been there for all of 15 years, dropped off only weeks after birth.
The headmaster hated Erra because the teen was a natural leader, and even encouraged the girls to hope!
The headmaster started unbuckling his belt, a thick piece of worn leather with metal spikes and suspicious rust-colored stains. He chuckled and spat as he unlocked Erra's door, walking over to the bed and kicking the teen. Rags shifted over a malnourished back, showing silvery scars in the moonlight.
Erra was...different...but the headmaster could not put his finger on it. The girl was too much like Riddle, back before they had stopped accepting boys. The headmaster knew he had to beat it out. For those 15 long years, however, Erra only stared at the wall or floor or ceiling, flinching rarely, almost never making a sound. It had become a game to the headmaster, who tried to get Erra to scream, or cry or anything at all...
Erra looked at the headmaster, sighing silently. Yet another beating - or worse - for her, with no chance to recover from the last time. Shaking a weary head, Erra refused to move, until the headmaster lashed at a stick-thin, silver scar-covered arm with his leather belt.
Then Erra spoke with a harsh voice – the product of years of beatings, starvation, and rape. "Elmira-Lenore wasn't made for your lust!" Erra hissed, words passing her tired lips out of pain.
The headmaster stopped for a moment, surprised, and then a wicked grin spread across his face. He left for a moment, slamming the door as he searched down the hall for the perfect victims to use against Erra. He knew the girl couldn't stand others' pain as well as her own.
Michelle, an eleven-year-old who was tiny for her age...
The headmaster stopped in front of Michelle's door, unlocking it, and stepping into the room. This child looked likely, was not yet...initiated. Ava, thirteen, was yelling at the headmaster for hurting Erra.
"Shut up, girl! Unless you want you want your turn sooner!" The headmaster grabbed Michelle and Ava, intent on having his fun with the children...
Meanwhile, Erra was back in her cell, trying to stand up straight. 15 years of the food (or lack thereof) at Elmira-Lenore had not exactly helped her to grow properly, leaving her stooped over, and limping slightly.
The constant abuse hadn't helped, either.
"Concentrate," a voice murmured in her ear. She reached a hand out to the door, willing with all her anger and hatred for the lock to undo.
The headmaster grabbed Anne, a girl of twelve, out of her cell as an afterthought, dragging her and the others with him towards Erra's cell, only to find himself looking up at the teen's empty door.
"You remember Riddle, don't you?" Erra said from the shadows. "I hear you cry out in terror during the night. I believe I've taken to his footsteps..."
The headmaster started, letting go of the girls as he whirled around. Erra melted into the dark, taking the man's keys and the three little girls with her, whispering to free the others. The headmaster smoothed down his greasy hair and looked around, feeling darkness radiating from the teen.
One of the girls hesitated to take the keys, unsure whether to do as Erra had said. "Just go!" A quiet whisper, almost like thought, went through Ava, and Erra gave her a little shove in the right direction.
The teen started, silver-gray eyes flashing, as the headmaster grabbed her right arm.
"Let me go." The headmaster sneered.
"I don't think so, bitch." He drew his hand back to hit her - causing the girl to wince – then a shocked look crossed his face, making him stare downwards. Coming out of his chest was a misty hand, clenched into a fist. It withdrew and the headmaster spun around, putting him face-to-face with a silvery,
"Riddle!"
"Let her go."
"No! You're dead, those freaks - "
"Yes, sir, I am dead. But she isn't."
Du-duh--—--Du-duh-—-—-Du-—--—-
The headmaster never got the chance to turn around - Erra had reached out her other hand and focused her anger on the headmaster's heart, slowing it down until it was barely beating at all.
Then it stopped, and the headmaster fell motionless to the floor.
Lilka sat emotionless in her cell. The fourteen-year-old had refused to cry, even for the death of her parents and twin; everyone now thought she was crazy because she had talked to her dead brother. So they had sent her here. But Erra had told here that ghosts were real, and she believed what Erra said. Somehow, she knew the older teen wasn't lying.
She set to work picking the lock on her door. Nearly 15 minutes later she knew had the last tumbler when it fell with a click. She grinned, slowly opening the door, hoping she could slip past whatever was happening outside.
"We can't just leave to the streets! The cops will bring us back! Like when Jerry tried to get out of here!" Ava had terrible memories of past escapees.
The fact that standing – or floating, actually – in front of her was the ghost of a former prisoner of the orphanage, didn't faze her.
"I'm not Jerry. I was never caught, and I'm following the same path. But we need to get out of the orphanage, and I know a safe place we can go. Get everyone here."
Ava laughed sullenly. "What are we going to do, huh? Why did you kill him, Erra? You killed the headmaster, and people will be coming for you— and us with you! They won't believe any of this, even if we explain it to them!" Ava was screaming, and she started to cry. She went to the corner to stay as far away as possible. Erra sighed and rubbed her forehead.
Lilka stepped out nervously, hoping for the best, when she saw the others.
"What's going on out here?" She whispered. "Is it an escape?" She sounded excited.
"Yes, but we'll probably all get caught and beaten afterwards." Ava giggled uncontrollably.
"Erra, help me." At Tom's soft voice, Erra looked at the ghost of a memory who'd taught her. Tom had shown her how to use her differences, although Erra almost never used them, leaving them an untapped well — until today. Tom had told Erra about his history, explained who he was, and told her how to contact his current form.
"Listen up! I know a person who'll take us in. He's called Lord Voldemort, and he'll help. Riddle told me about him."
Lilka squeaked in excitement. "I can help! I can pick locks and I know lots people who can help."
Tom nodded. "The man won't wake up again, so just leave his body there. But there's a trip involved to getting where we need to be. And please—I mean this in the nicest way—please shut up. We need to go quickly and quietly. We're relying on speed, not sound."
"I shall be silent and follow your instructions," Lilka said to the ghost.
Erra turned to Ava, trying to speak gently in her aggravation.
"Listen, we're going to get homes. Warm homes, too, with good food. Lord Voldemort is a good man, and can help us."
"Face it, Erra. We won't ever get homes! We've been here too long!"
"Fine then." Erra stood, hardening her voice, using her last tactic.
Fear.
"Alright, I'll lock you back in your cell. You can stay here and rot, for all I care! Haven't you ever noticed? No one, not one lousy person comes here! You'd never be found. I know my snake friends would like a good meal after they finish the headmaster." Ava began to cry.
"You wouldn't do that! Why would you even say such a thing?"
"I would and I could do that. I killed the headmaster, and leaving one little girl to her fate won't mean much to me. But she might mean something to Lord Voldemort, and a new family, with warm clothes and plenty of food. And we can learn magic, too. Watch!"
Erra focused on a small bit of trash in the hall, imagining it floating up...and it did. She then used her other hand to set it aflame, keeping it off the floor until it was ash.
Ava hid her face in her lap. "I hate you Erra! And if this place is real, I hope I won't live close to you!"
"You won't have to worry about me being around you once you get homes. I'm staying with Lord Voldemort. Now, is everyone ready?" She nodded to Tom, who began floating in front of the group, leading them (even—however reluctantly—Ava) to the exit. "It's still night, and not too cold. We've got some way to travel."
Michelle rubbed her eyes sleepily. "I'm ready." She wobbled slightly then grabbed a blanket. Sighing, Erra picked up Michelle.
"It's a good thing you're so small. You'll ride on my back. Hold on tight. Go ahead and take a little nap, but be careful of the scabs." She reached her hand to unlock the door and led the unlikely group outside into the night. Ava followed; despite everything, she didn't want to be left alone.
Tom floated along beside Erra, watching the oldest girl silently. Erra had been through so much, always doing whatever she could to protect the rest of the girls. Tom found that he liked this loyalty. Anne spoke up.
"Erra, when I get older, I want to be like you."
The girl let out a small, sad smile.
"No you don't. You want to be a doctor, working out new ways to heal people, instead of hurting them." Then she clammed up.
Not many people knew it, but Voldemort's true form wasn't as Harry Potter had seen it during the Tri Wizard tournament. Oh, yes, it had been for the first few days after his resurrection, but soon the Dark Lord had regained his previous face.
Thus, it was a dark-haired, fair-skinned ruler that sat on his throne when a silvery ghost, followed by a young woman in a silver dress and green robes, entered his court.
"Ah, Tom, it is good to see you again."
"You too, Voldemort."
The Dark Lord motioned to his memory's ghost, and it floated to him, being absorbed into his skin, which shimmered before returning to its normal color. He stood from his throne and walked down to Erra, examining her. Good food and actual rest, as well as healing spells, had done wonders for her.
She's nervous, that's for certain. But in those clothes Lucius found, she looks the part of my Queen.
"You must be the Lady Erraster. Tom has told me much about you over the past three years. But, why I should keep you with me, instead of letting Lucius take you home to...meet...his son?"
She looked visibly sickened by the thought, then lifted her head.
"I'm not afraid to work, Sir. I'm willing to learn anything you'd teach me about magic, as well. I want to fight with you – Tom told me of your plans, what you'll do to people who..."
Why does she pause...?
"Go on, Erraster."
"The head at the orphanage was...a very bad man. The girls and I were forced."
A filthy Muggle used my Wandering Star?
"And you want me to hurt that man?" She stood a little taller.
"No need, Sir. Using what Tom showed me, I already killed him." Voldemort smiled.
"Good. Walk with me. We're to begin your training."
Not wanting to go to bed just yet, Erra settled by the fire and stared into it until the throne room was empty. Then she pulled out a small book with a black leather cover. She opened it, showing pages with strange writing, and then started turning, not too far in. Finally, she found an empty page, and set the book down on her lap.
"Today was another day, Neotempor. I am glad that I have you to talk to; my thoughts are very jumbled up." That was what Erra knew she had said, and what she saw write itself on the page before it faded. What came out of her mouth, and wrote in the book, however, was something that sounded far more sinister.
"The Master started my training last week. Aside from Lucius and Severus, I'm the only one the Master has ever trained personally. Lucius wants Draco to be trained with me, I can tell. But the Master doesn't seem to trust Lucius' son. Despite what the Master said, Draco isn't that bad. He treats me with the respect due a Lady, as Voldemort says I'm becoming.
"Already, I've learned Parseltounge, which he says means I'm very powerful. It pleases him every time I speak in it, or repeat a spell, which is good. The reports he gets from his spies aren't very encouraging, and he's starting to withdraw from the Death Eaters. At least, from what Draco said. Voldemort doesn't seem like that to me. He's kind, polite, and very refined. He says that I'm his Erraster, his Wandering Star. He has special plans for me, too – that's why I'm the only female allowed in the compound. He even wants me to start calling him Ténèbres, or Ténè.
"Tomorrow I go to Diagon Alley, and get a wand. I'm very excited – the Master says that I'll be even better at magic with it. He's having me go with Severus, which I'm not too sure about, but I finally get my own wand!"
Ténèbres means darkness, night, or sinister.