Tension; the prelude to escalation.
Tension; that is how they always begin. Tension; that is how these wars started.
The year was 1889 and it was in Godrick's Hollow. There a ripple was unleashed. A ripple which would inflict terror on the wizarding world for a century to come. A ripple that would trigger divine evil to ascend. A ripple that would transpire two wars.
A three-way battle was this ripple.
Gellert Grindlewald, a once very talented student in the Durmstang Institution, had procured expulsion, for his dangerous studies of experimenting with the Dark Arts. Grindlewald, after being expelled, moved in with his aunt, Bathilda Bagshot, in Godrick's Hallow. In Godrick's Hallow, Gellert Grindlewald met and had become friends with Albus Dumbledore, a half-blood wizard, enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Bathilda Bagshot knew that Albus Dumbledore was a gifted wizard, who had potential to be one of the most powerful wizards of all time, like Gellert.
Albus and Gellert became friends, they were intelligent, talented, and for a time, they wanted to rule over the muggles with magic. They wanted to rule the world. They decided to search for the Deathly Hallows, which could make them invincible. But Dumbledore's crumbling ties to his younger brother, Aberforth Dumbledore, and to his little sister, Ariana Dumbledore, proved ultimately to be their undoing, and a spark that would light the Wizarding World on fire. Fire patented in venality of terror. This spark, this fire, it was started within Godrick's Hallow, in the year of 1889.
Aberforth had confronted Albus, as it was clear that Gellert was descending into madness; his twisted demented nature steered himself deeper into the Dark Arts. Albus, blinded by his love for his friend, refused to believe it, he had attempted to ignore, denying Grindlewald's descent into lunacy. However, like in history before, it became clear that Grindlewald was beyond the point of return. Dumbledore had cut ties. Albus had offered his friend a chance to go on the run, but they both knew, the only wizard who could match his powers was Dumbledore himself. Grindlewald had a different sought. He declared, they would settle their differences, demanding his friend to fight him.
The 18-year-old Albus Dumbledore, initially refused to arm himself, even when being at wandpoint, by the dark shadow of his best friend, who had been consumed by divine madness. Grindlewald, knowing Dumbledore would not fight him unless forced to do so, had turned his wand on his armed 16-year-old-brother, sadistically using the Cruciatus Curse on him. This resulted in Albus being forced to step in, being given no choice but to duel his best friend, in order to defend his brother. This intervention turned into a three-way duel between Albus, Aberforth, and Gellert.
As the duel progressed, it grew ever more fierce, transforming into an all-out battle between the three young wizards. While they failed to hit each other, Ariana Dumbledore, who witnessed the duel, had been killed by a stray curse. Grindlewald had then fled, fearing retribution. But, none of the three knew who casted the spell. The aftermath this duel would have, not only instigated the global manhunt for Gellert (it would not end until Albus had confronted and defeated him in 1945), but it inspired another's dark wizard's climb. Another's dark wizard's climb of evil so immoral, and so decadent. Sometimes, it made Lyanna Stark pondered, in her study (as she wrote her book), inside the castle of Winterfell, if the Wizarding World got the chance, would they have chosen to have Grindlewald's reign, over the one who's had just ended?
Lyanna would never know.
What she did know was the Wizarding War, that had ended twelve years ago, had caused so much hate and fear to spread across England. It was so much hate and fear that was caused, by one individual, an individual, whose name was feared by wizards today. A name most witches and wizards dreaded to say. Yet, a name she was not petrified to utter.
His name: Lord Voldemort.
Voldemort, that was his given name, the name of the darkest wizard of all time. Sometimes, she wondered, How does saying a name cause a nation to tremble?Lyanna asked herself that so many times she lost count. She would never know.What I do know is that I'm not afraid to say his name, not after that night in 1981.
Besides herself, the only people who she knew weren't afraid of using his name, were the highest-ranking leaders in the Order of the Phoenix. Most of them, who weren't afraid to speaking his name, were already dead. Those brave enough to say his name and were lucky enough to survive the war, subsisted into a prolonged life of hiding. Lyanna lost her father and her oldest brother, killed by Voldemort himself.
They were tortured to death by the Dark Lord. Voldemort had demanded them to give them reports, concerning where Lyanna Stark and James Snow were at, who had killed twenty of his officers. Her father and her older brother refused to break, and Voldemort decided to kill them both. This proved to be his first major mistake. Since, Ned Stark, now as the heir of House Stark, rallied his banners of 20,000 witches and wizards, with help of their little brother, Benjen Stark, and his best friends, Sirius Black, the heir of House Black, Robert Baratheon, the heir of House Baratheon, Peter Pettigrew, a half-blood wizard, and Remus Lupin, a half-blood werewolf. They had declared war on Voldemort and soon the war was blown wide open.
There had been so many battles fought between the Death Eaters and the Order. There had been thousands of deaths. Aerys Blackfyre, Rhaella Blackfyre, Victorian Greyjoy, and Balon Greyjoy were just four of the thousand Death Eaters that were killed in the war. There had been so much magical blood spilled as it got worse and worse. The war had escalated into a never-ending stalemate, impacting everyone within the wizarding world, from purebloods to muggleborns, but the biggest impact it had was on House Lannister, the most powerful pureblood family in the Kingdom of England. Tywin Lannister was more powerful than Luscious Malfoy himself.
The war benefited the Lannister's so much, they were able to remain neutral, much to his daughter, Cersei Lannister's anger, but to his son, Jaime Lannister's relief. They were making so much capital, by being the top wizard warmonger's commerce in England. Tywin did business with the Death Eaters and the Order. Voldemort and Ministry attempted to threaten him, but Tywin reminded them that threatening him was a foolish idea, he had the biggest influence politically, and the biggest military influence in all of England. Voldemort and Dumbledore knew, until he declared a side, the war that would shape the future of the world, it would go on infinitely. Tywin was okay with that—he was not at all furtive by Voldemort or Dumbledore.
For ten years more, the war fumed on, neither side had an edge. It wasn't until the spring of 1980, in the town of Hogsmeade, at the Hogs Head Pub, where a prophecy was foretold by Sybill Trelawney. Which would foreshadow the endgame of the war; the end of the war was near. A prophecy that would hold the key to the future of the world. A prophecy that had so much power, it would alter both an infant boy and an infant girl's life. This boy was born that July 31st; his name was Jon Snow.
"The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him… born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal… but he will have power that the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hands of the other… for neither can truly remain dead… if not met with destiny at each other's hands… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… the one who is from Ice and Fire… will be born again as the seventh month dies..."
A Death Eater was caught eavesdropping, and fathomed the first part, before getting kicked out from the pub, but he delivered it to his master. It was considered the turning point. Few could comprehend what the prophecy intended. Fewer knew what the context set around meant. There was one who suspected it. Albus Dumbledore had an idea, he did his research, but remained to tell no one. Albus Dumbledore advised James Snow and Lyanna Stark, to go into hiding with their 18-month-old son, Jon Snow, and their 6-month-old daughter, Arya Snow, and they did.
The war continued, and soon the Lannisters decided to enter the fray, Tywin declared his house and his bannermen for the Order. Tywin never fought for a losing side, even if he was bigot of blood purity, he was a cunning Lion that did anything to improve the Lannister name, he wanted the Lannister's to be the most respected, the most powerful, and the most feared family in England. One by one, the Dark Lord's closest allies started to get captured, and got sent to the Ministry to await trial. Those who were found guilty were sent to rot in Azkaban, those who managed to fiddle their way out of rotting in Azkaban, such as Luscious Malfoy, claimed they were under the control of the Imperious Curse, and managed to get immunity.
The Order had gotten the break they needed. Still; this war was not over just yet. Lord Voldemort remained at large, and until he was defeated, the war wasn't over. Voldemort had one last ace hidden up his sleeve. An ace he had been waiting to use.
October 31st was coming. The remaining Death Eaters and the Dark Lord were hunting down the Snows. They were getting close. The Death Eaters knew it, and he knew it. They knew they were close. They just didn't know where. It got so bad that Ned Stark, Benjen Stark, Robert Baratheon, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, were forced into hiding, just like James Snow and Lyanna Stark. Lyanna never believed that her best friends would betray her family. She refused to believe it. She trusted them all with her life. She had no choice. Lya and James decided to name their children's Godfather as their secret keeper. That was what James told her, but she knew her husband, she knew that he would play this game to his chest. It didn't matter who the secret keeper was within the end though. Lyanna had her suspicions, James and Sirius had agreed to do a double bluff; Sirius most likely was never the Secret Keeper, he couldn't have been, instead, she had thought it was the rat. He would never betray them, he was best friends with Ned and James, he could never sell out the lives of his godchildren to save his own, he would die before he did.
That was what she had believed but she was wrong.
They had been in hiding for a year, Lyanna was recovering from birthing Arya, their cottage was under the Fidellius Charm. It was an extremely powerful ancient spell, that buried information on their location, in the soul of a certain individual. The plan was to make Sirius the Secret Keeper. She didn't know about the last-minute change. None, but three people knew; James Snow, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. This last second change, this double bluff, this plan, it led to nothing, but disaster.
It was the night of October 31st, 1981, and Lyanna would never forget that night. He was tipped off. He had traveled to their cottage and entered their home on Halloween, it offered no more protection, for their Secret Keeper betrayed them. Upon arriving, he saw James and Lyanna play with their children, as he walked on the patio, his silhouette covered his head, his black cloak hid his frame, his eyes scorching.
Lord Voldemort, blowing up the door with an explosive curse, entered the house, his crimson eyes leading him into the hall, guiding him into the living room. James then had shouted to his wife to take their babies and to flee, whilst he held him off. Wandless, however, the Dark Lord was able to easily put down James Snow, using the Killing Curse, killing him instantly. Voldemort then preceded up the stairs of the cottage, he had walked to the door, casted another explosive curse, causing the door to splinter everywhere.
He found Lyanna, her two babies, locked inside the nursery, the blown apart furniture scattered all over the room. Voldemort gave Lyanna the chance to step aside, vowing to let her daughter and her live, so he could kill her son. She refused and pleaded with him to kill her instead, and to spare her son's and daughter's life. He didn't give her the entreaty, he casted the killing curse at her chest, but at the last second, right before the green light could hit her, the roof collapsed on her, she was bashed and was buried unconscious under the rubble of the roof of their nursery.
It felt like it was an invisible person covering her unconscious body under the rubble, as pieces of the roof of the room continued to fall on her, but none fatally hit her body. It seemed as this an illusory person had sacrificed himself, in order to save her life, from a near certain death; this time around. It didn't matter that Voldemort had missed his mark. She had to be dead. There was no way she could've survived that. The Dark Lord pointed his wand at Jon's heart, who was sitting in his cot with his sister, who was crying. He preceded to cast the Killing Curse on the boy.
However, because of Lyanna's tried sacrifice of herself, the curse didn't work, instead, the spell rebounded onto Lord Voldemort, obliterating his corporal form. His wand was blasted from his corpse and landed nearby in the demolished room. Jon Snow had survived the attempt on his life, he was virtually unharmed; all he had was a faded red one-inch curved boomerang scar over his heart. Jon Snow, her son, the boy who had just defeated the darkest wizard of all time, the boy who lived.
That night gave Lyanna nightmares. It would continue to give her nightmares for years. It was a miracle, alone for her, and her children to be so lucky to survive. She was lucky, her last two living brothers and Remus pulled her out from the wreckage, they took them to St, Mungo's Hospital, a week later, Dumbledore spoke to her about the attack.
This was twelve years ago, the year was now 1993, she and her children lived at Winterfell with her brothers, her niece and nephews. And with her brother's, Ned Stark's set wards from the Ministry, Theon Greyjoy and Daenerys Blackfyre (who had fallen in love with her son— they both were 13). Ned obtained her out of a betrothal with Draco Malfoy—amid Tywin's Lannister's help. Lyanna smiled, as she completed her book, perhaps the worst was over. Perhaps, her 13-year-old Jon, and her 12-year-old Arya, could live a joyful life away from fear, but she knew, peace never lasts.
-0-0-0-0-0-
It had been fourteen years.
The Dark Lord Voldemort had waited fourteen long years for this opportunity to fall before him. The year was 1995. The events at Godrick's Hollow had been an unfortunate misstep on his part, surly that mudblood cunt, and that bloodtraitor slut had placed an ancient spell on that filthy fucking half-blood baby boy. One that he somehow did not come across in his studies, and therefore had not been ready for it, it was the one way a toddler could defeat him. The thought this had on him made him seethe.
Defeated? Defeated by a child? The war wasn't even over when the old cunning lion decided to pledge himself to Dumbledore. Voldemort despised a certain three. One was a pureblood bigot; a pureblood bigot who would do anything to make the Lannisters, the most powerful, and the most feared pureblood family in the United Kingdom. They were extreme business and political rivals with the Malfoy family. Tywin to prove that he was the most powerful man in the wizarding world, helped Lord Eddard Stark to get Daenerys Blackfyre, who was betrothed to Draco Malfoy, out of her betrothal. He threatened the Minister of Magic, that if they didn't do exactly what he wanted, he would cause Cornelius Fudge's reputation to be ruined. Luscious was furious; his son's gorgeous bride-to-be was stolen and was given to Ned Stark— like Theon Greyjoy was— since Tywin wanted to show off his influence on the Ministry.
Another he hated was Albus Dumbledore. He felt fury when Dumbledore came into his mind. This half-blood wizard, his arch nemesis, in his war for the world, he despised Tywin Lannister, but he derided Albus Dumbledore even more. However, his hate for Dumbledore was nothing compared to the rage, he had in his soul for Jon Snow.
If he still had his physical body, he was sure his insides would be boiling with anger, boiling with anger, so hot that as if it would burn his skin, like hot magma. The sense of fury would creep its way up his throat, pounding his head like a drum, until he was done. He longed to finish what he started fifteen years ago, he would not stop until the boy was long dead, Lord Voldemort would not stop, until he killed Jon Snow. He would kill him, his bloodtraitor mother, his disgusting half-blood sister, his revolting bloodtraitor uncles, his sickening bloodtraitor cousins, and the two wards.
Instead, he, the Dark Lord, who was so feared people couldn't speak his name, was in hiding. He was now a shadow of what he once was, he resorted to possessing snakes to keep himself alive. And he was sure, if it weren't for his exigency plan, he would surely be dead. In all his life, he had never felt shame and humiliation, as overwhelming as this felt. Alone, vanquished, by a babe, abandoned by his "loyal" Death Eaters, it seemed hopeless, it seemed impossible to find a way to regain his physical body.
Though to his surprise a chance at salvaging everything had stumbled into him.
Quirinus Pycelle Quirrell, a feeble perverted minded man, who somehow had the honor of calling himself a Hogwarts professor, came across him in the dark forest of Albania. Taking possession of his mind was easier than breathing for him, and soon, he was his loyal servant, his legitimacy of controlling Quirrell's mind was easy.
It took a full month of endless research, he outright refused the man any sleep, but Quirrell had found a ritual that could restore a spirit to a body. Be it destroyed or withered from time, the ritual would heal it and age properly, as though nothing ever happened. It was exactly was what he needed, and once it was done, he would find his faithless followers, he was going to make sure they remembered that he, and not Albus Dumbledore, nor Tywin Lannister, was the most powerful wizard in the world. He would have no more of this bullshit. Voldemort was going to make sure they remembered, who they turned away from, he was going to punish all of them accordingly.
It was a month until they were ready.
Quirrell, though a gullible fool, knew his magic and went through the ritual with ease. Symbols were on the ground, complex leveled-potions were brewed and used accordingly, and then, he said the incarnation with confidence, that he never did before.
"The Blood to the vein, the skin to the bone, the breaks be mended, tears be sewn. Soul to fit in corpses cast, let they who left, let they who left, and be whole at last!" Voldemort could have been foaming at his mouth, with eagerness, if he had his physical body. Though, he wasn't, nor was he, once the ritual was over and done with.
"What happened?" Voldemort hissed.
Quirrell trembled in fear, shaking his head fervently, "I- I did it right, my master. I read—" Voldemort lost it. "You failed me!" the Dark Lord growled behind him. "What is to stop me from training your wand on yourself, my idiotic Quirrell?" he hissed.
"M- my l-lord, p- please! I beg of you! The ritual! The ritual may not have worked, b-but, but we can f-find other ways! B-better ways!" Quirrell's stuttering nature made him struggle internally. The Dark Lord wanted snap this idiot's neck in half, and he would've, if he was given a corporeal body, but instead he didn't, thus he unfortunately couldn't kill him. This man, at this very moment, maintained the best chance he had to regaining power. "Take us back to the Inn, Quirrell. There we'll discuss your punishment, perhaps, you could scrounge something up, to save your useless life." The servant did not stop praising and thanking his Lord the entire way home.
This was the last time Voldemort swore to know failure; he would kill Jon Snow.