Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave
written by: OneoftheWeasleys
Chapter One: The Beginning of the End
Before the plunge into darkness occurs, the world seems to take a deep gasp for breath, leaving it in an uncomfortable stillness until the evil bursts forth and consumes everything in it's path. The usual fall breeze did not pass through the small Muggle village that night. Nothing that of usual nature was happening at all. There were no couples walking happily arm-in-arm with one another down the main road, no dog could be heard howling at the large moon, not even a rustle of leaves echoed through the land. It was quiet, deathly quiet.
The streets were empty, all of the town's people safely within the cottages and buildings that made up the small village. They were at home. The one place almost every child and even adults believe can keep harm away from them; that was home. But one tall figure, dressed in black robes that hid every feature of his body except his dark eyes knew, that as he stood outside of a cottage house with a gate surrounding it, that the change in weather was no mere coincidence. He knew the family that lived there would never be safe, no matter the amount of protection the family believed they had.
The light of a street lamp cascaded down upon the cloaked figure, making his red, snakelike eyes glisten darkly from within his hood as he remained still, just outside of the small gates entrance. He waited without a sound, his breathing almost at a complete stop as his eyes remained fixed upon the second story of the house. The child was in the nursery and sound asleep without a thought in his tiny mind. It was time. The hours he stood out there, alone and waiting, was know all going to be worthwhile.
He stepped forward, pushing the gate open with the faintest creak issuing from the rusted hinges. A wicked grin formed as he inched closer to the large door of oak. Branches, one after another, cracked and snapped in pieces beneath his feet but he no longer worried about attracting the attention of the family. They were already in his grasp. The secrets had been revealed to him only the night before and he knew that once he passed the threshold, there was nothing that anyone could do to stop him.
"They have made me their Secret Keeper, my Lord!" the squeaky voice of one of his many followers whispered, bowing low to the floor, his face mere inches from the feet that belonged to the man known as Lord Voldemort. His red eyes creased into slits, giving him the appearance of a snake as he smiled. The man on the floor didn't know what to make of his smile, the Lord never smiled.
"It is good of you to come to me with this very important information, Wormtail," said Voldemort, his voice making the man on the floor give an involuntary quiver. "Fetch my cloak," he hissed.
"My Lord," stuttered Wormtail as he stood but keeping his head in a low bow, "my Lord, it is such an honor—such an honor!"
'Fool,' Voldemort thought as the pasty faced man stumbled from his room and into the main corridor, the door clicking softly closed. The parlor was circular and empty except for a large desk and an equally massive chair, usually made for kings, behind it. The Lord had been sitting in it only minutes before, lounging in his pride and dreams of the world he would make. But something always blocked his mind, never allowing him to further his dream into reality. Not until now. His obstacle was soon going to be no more. The Lord tossed his head back and began to laugh, a cruel and bone chilling one that made the house fall silent, his followers listening with strained ears. They now also knew; the time had come.
A loud wind began to howl, breaking the unbearable silence as it crashed into the trees, pressing the wood until great creaks began to fill the air. From a short distance a dog could be heard whining, his canine senses awakening to the harsh world that surrounded him and the evil that was about to take place. With a long, bony hand, Lord Voldemort gracefully pulled open his robes and took from the depths of his pocket, a wand. It was the most important part of his being and he wielded it with both knowledge and cruelty. The thin, wooden stick had been used many times as a weapon to kill and tonight, it would do the same.