Shattered Glass
*And I'm back again! I hope that you all enjoy it! By the way, I don't own Harry Potter, just the entire book series except for the Chamber of Secrets, which my brother ruined, and COS on VHS. Again, enjoy, and thanks for reading!!
~the14milo
She threw the glass across the room. Shards of it flew at her and embedded in her skin. She was void of emotion, and left the room as silently as she had entered it. She knew what was coming. She quietly climbed the stairs to her bedroom and shut the door. Her footsteps were muffled as she crossed the carpet. Hermione Granger pulled on her cloak, and threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire. She whispered the name of a place, too faintly to be heard by anyone other than the fire. It turned green; she stepped in, and was gone.
Miles away, Harry Potter sensed that something was wrong. He jumped out of bed and bumped into a table by his bed. A glass of water fell and smashed. He knew what was to come. He sat at his desk and scrawled a quick note, then attached it to Hedwig's leg. After tossing her out the window, he paced.
Ron Weasley slipped out of his room. In the hallway, there was a table on which there was a bottle of ink. He overturned the table, and the bottle crashed to the ground. He fled the house, grabbing a broomstick and flew away, his shadow cutting through the night like a knife.
Stealthily, he crept through the kitchen. He searched through the drawers until he found what he was looking for. He grasped the key firmly in his hand, and then headed for the dungeon. He whispered a spell to make the sound of the key in the lock silent, then unlocked the door and snuck down the stairs. Draco Malfoy reached the bottom of the stairs, found the right jar, and performed a powerful spell, known only by few. The lid burst off the jar, the glass shattered, and a crystal ball dropped into Draco's open palm. An owl soared through the window, landing on Draco's arm. Hedwig. The body whirling in the fireplace was Hermione. A faint knock on the door was Ron. All that was left was Harry. Then the "Fearsome Four"-the four most powerful wizards in the world-would rise together and bring their master back to power.
Harry paced back and forth across the room. He could not leave, though he wished he could, to join his Master yet again.
Together, Draco, Ron, and Hermione read Harry's note. He was unable to leave the Muggles, but he would call them by way of their scars later that night. Yes, Harry was not the only one who had survived Lord Voldemort. Hermione had a star-shaped scar on her lower back, Ron had a galleon scar on the left side of his rib cage, and Draco's was the Dark Mark, on the back of his left shoulder. This connection enabled them to use their minds to converse. But that night, they had joined forces to wreak havoc on the world. To tell the world: You can't stop us now. Yes, tonight was a night of resurrection and finishing unfinished deeds. A night to commit the tasks that should have been fulfilled years before. Tonight, they would kill.
Harry could not bear to be away from his Master and fellow Death Eaters and schoolmates. He put a silencing spell on his throat and screamed. He screamed and yelled and cursed the Muggles for all they had done to him. He cursed his mother and father for leaving him with the Muggles. They had not died, but fled when Voldemort discovered they were double agents for Dumbledore. When he stopped screaming, he comforted himself with the thought that his friends and comrades would break him out of that room in a few hours.
Hermione, Ron and Draco grasped hands and sat cross-legged in a circle on the cold, wet cement floor. A circle of candles surrounded them, and another and another. They all closed their eyes and hummed. This was much like meditation, but they were focused on combining their mental abilities together into a crystal ball sitting in the centre of the circle, rather then on nothingness. Hermione's intelligence and beauty went in, Draco's speed and sneakiness went in, and Ron's naiveté and foolishness went into this small ball, which was now quivering and shaking. It burst and a bright light shone out of it, blinding the three even through their closed eyes. They remained in the same position, their faces dripping with blood from the slivers of glass.
Harry had had enough. He longed to join Draco, Ron, and Hermione in their battle against the fascism of the Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore. He knew the three had already begun the process of Lord Voldemort's reincarnation. He could feel the others' powers combining, and knew they were draining his as well. He couldn't bear it any longer. He blasted out of his bedroom, knocking a shelf of cat figurines off the wall outside his room. The Muggles ran to find out the source of the crash and found Harry smashing everything he could reach. They tried to stop him, but with two words and a flash of green light, they were dead. He arranged the bodies to make it seem as though they had killed themselves, repaired everything as not to arouse suspicion, then Apparated to his comrades' sides.
Hermione had been thinking a lot about Death lately. She wondered if she would come back as a ghost, or as a spirit. She wondered if ghosts were able to touch material things. Maybe only poltergeists could do that. Hermione and Harry had been ordered by the Dark Lord to marry when they graduated, and keep Dumbledore under tabs. Harry already knew he was to be Minister of Magic, and Hermione was to be the new Headmistress. They were to use these positions to one day rule the world.
Each of them slit their wrists. They dripped the blood onto the crystal ball. They drew their wands and chanted together a verse that would bring their Master to his full power. When this was complete, they each drew their wands across the cuts on their wrists and mended them completely. It was time.
Voldemort rose slowly out of the pool of blood. His eyes were piercing and sinister. His long fingers were dripping blood. His face was illuminated by the light reflecting off the crimson liquid all over the floor. The four stared in awe at the remarkable sight, and simultaneously dropped to their knees. They crawled forward to grasp the hem of his bloodstained robes with their left hands. The sleeves of their robes slid, and the Dark Mark on their arms were blacker than they had ever been, and seared with pain. They knew they were the only remaining Death Eaters, and their jobs were simple: kill.
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