Prologue – One Year Ago
We fought so hard
so valiantly…
A man stood in the center of an empty dark room. He was dressed in nothing but a plain black robe. He was a bald man, with a thin mouth, red eyes, and snake-like slits for a nose.
We wanted to win
but got tragedy…
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, slender piece of wood – his wand.
It comes out of nowhere
steals you in the night…
He raised his wand to a point directly in front of his face and examined it carefully. It was yew, thirteen inches, with a phoenix feather core. He had gotten it when he was just eleven years old. When he was young and stupid. That time felt like a lifetime ago….
Don't ever look back
you'll find no light…
It was almost time… not too long until the power built completely and the transfer could begin… he was finally taking care of something that he had originally thought has been taken care of before, but Potter had changed that…. Oh well… that was then…
Nothing can save you
there's no turning back…
This was now.
The Darkness is coming…
Soon he would be…
And you don't stand a chance….
Immortal.
He raised his wand in a final surrender. Soon, he would feel no pain. Soon, he would not have to worry about Potter…. Soon… the world would be his.
"*Ego do mea anima ad te…mea factorem."
The Earth literally shook from the power of it. The walls and roof were moaning under the pressure of the power. Dust and small pieces of rock fell from the ceiling, hitting the floor with an unnaturally loud echo. Shadows flashed against the wall, sailing across the walls and floor, joining together at the center at the Dark Lord's feet. Deep, powerful laughter echoed through the room, seemingly coming from the floor and the walls.
A bright, white light appeared, swallowing up the Dark Lord in its flare. A small black dot appeared, just where the Dark Lord's heart would be. It slowly threaded outward, sending thin black strands down his arms and to the very tips of his fingers, down his legs and lifting his feet off the ground. The black light balled together in the palms of his hands. The Dark Lord smiled an evil smile, the black light coming from behind his teeth a dark contrast to the white light surrounding him.
He raised his hands and clasped them above his head. Slowly bringing his hands down until they were just before his face, the light now traveling from his hands and into his mouth, He closed his eyes tight in concentration. The deep laughing grew more and more pronounced. Suddenly an Earth shattering scream filled the air. It was the sound of someone losing their life. It was the sound of hate, and madness, and pain – the sound of death. The death of his soul.
The black light started to radiate from him as the shadows beneath his feet started wiggling, growing more and more restless, the souls of others before him giggling with anticipation at the thought of have a new home, a new friend.
The laughter stopped, the quiet, high-pitched hysteric giggling growing more powerful. Voldemort opened his eyes, showing nothing more than blank, empty black hole with no life.
The shadows rose out the ground and swirled on a silent wind that now filled the room, making the Dark Lord's cloak billow around him. Slowly, one by one, the shadows attacked him, becoming consumed by the black smoke now flowing in waves around the black light surrounding the Dark Lord.
The giggling stopped and the Dark Lord fell to the floor with a thud. It was not a problem however: he could feel no pain now. The light faded and the smoke consumed him, lifting him slowly to his feet. His eyes were so cold, so void of emotion, so dark. He opened his mouth, smiling a slight, thin smile that was sickly enough to make anyone's soul freeze.
He raised his wand and threw his head back, laughing an evil, maniac laugh that could send shivers down anyone's spine. He raised his wand further above his head, producing a black smoke as cold as ice.
A flick of his wand, and a swish of his cloak, and he was gone, some smoke still lingering along with the unnatural echo of his deep, cruel laugh.
A/N: *this roughly translates (I think) from Latin to English as 'I give my soul to you… my maker.' I'm not quite sure if that's right because I did it word for word on Google translate and I'm not sure if you would write out it like that.
I hope you liked the opening to my story, and I feel inclined to tell you that not all the chapters will be this short. Please tell me what you think! I love constructive criticism.