DISCLAIMER = I own nothing. J. is the author; I am a humble fan fiction writer. I do not claim the characters or Rowling's original story. = DISCLAIMER
War is terrifying. It's brutal and unforgiving; make one mistake and you're dead. Lethal. But dead is dead no matter how you get there, it all looks the same in the end...
Prejudice. Terror. Murder.
At approximately 19:00 last night three muggle born wizards were discovered tortured and murdered outside of the Leaky Cauldron in muggle London.
The three un-identified (at this time) wizards were discovered last night by Tom the current barman and innkeeper.
He described the sight as "gruesome beyond, imagining. I can't believe someone could do that to another human being. You could hardly tell they were human. Mud had been rubbed into their blood". This disgusting tale brings new meaning to the terrible term 'mudblood'.
But as all honest good people would agree the killers are the only ones with dirty blood; tainted by their own abominable actions.
The ministry are not disclosing any more information on this despicable occurrence. We can only assume that these loathsome deed were carried out by someone with fierce prejudice against muggle born's.
An Auror for the Ministry had commented "I've been sent on some terrible missions and stared insanity in the eye. But I have never come close to seeing anything as bad as this. -You can trust that every resource we have will be put towards capturing this mad man."
We now urge all muggle born witches and wizards to be on high alert and to not go out alone after dark. Do not let the deaths of these innocents be for naught. Use your head, be smart. Be safe.
Mr Harold Potter threw down the Daily Prophet in a flurry of pure rage; resting his elbows against the dining room table, face in hands and breakfast long forgotten. The article hadn't even made front page news; instead a smiling witch was posing happily while shopping in Diagon Alley. Harold hadn't cared enough to learn who the witch on the front page was. It was only drivel. Why wasn't keeping innocent people safe and reporting on ACTUAL NEWS front page worthy? What was the wizard world coming to? Harold Potter constantly had to ask himself this question.
The three murders were not as random as the Prophet would have everyone believe. Harold was privy to certain information not given to the general public (so as not to cause hysteria) and he knew that these murders-he wished there were a stronger word- were not simply the product of a insane killer, but of a raging racist psychopath devoid of human emotion.
It's the only way to explain how such a monster could even exist. Harold's job as head of Department of magical law enforcement at the ministry meant that he was at the front line, he was the one called in after this attack was reported and he took it personally.
Determination flooded through him at that second. Determined to rid the world of this monster, not just for the general public but for his family and his unborn son. Harold would not allow his son to grow up in a world where he would not be safe. He had to make it safe for him; he had to protect his son.
Harold ripped his left hand through the untidy mop of black hair that was genetic to his family and groaned frustrated with the world around him.
"Darling what's wrong?" the melodic voice of his beautiful wife penetrated his silent rage. Calming him, only the way Hannah's voice could. A gentle hand squeezed his shoulder affectionately, bringing the subtle scent of Lavender and Jasmine with it.
Harold leaned into the touch, relaxing before he met a pair of sparkling amber eyes.
"Nothing angel, don't worry about me" he tried to reassure her, failing completely as a critical stare crossed her oval face.
"Haven't you learned not to ask the impossible? Is it work? Has there been another attack?" Hannah rubbed her swollen stomach in worry; it seemed subconscious. Harold grabbed her hand enclosing it within his own and kissing it lightly, before conceding the truth; she'd find out eventually.
"I was just reading about the attack from last night in the Daily Prophet, it was just a small snippet of an article. Why is the Prophet not making these occurrences more news worthy? I told the minister that the public should be made aware and should be warned before it's too late. But he obviously does not agree. I can promise you this Hannah, more deaths will happen before that twit of a Minister Bagnold agrees to anything I should suggest". Harold had walked over to the dining room window, looking down at the Potter Manor gates; Hannah stoic beside him.
"Is there nothing you can do? I'm scared Harold. What if you get hurt? What if-if you get k-kill" Hannah was cut-off by her husband mid teary sentence.
"I make you this vow, Hannah Catherine Potter; we will live to see our son become a man. We will live to see him happily married. We will live to share the joys of raising him. I will not leave you to nurture him alone, I swear" By this point both of the Potters were crying silently in each other's arms.
Not knowing what would happen in the future. Not knowing if what the future held was worth surviving for. But what they did know...was they had to try.
The same night, at the other end of Britain, in a country manor along Hadrian's Wall; the entire worlds nightmare was being realised.
Hadrian's Manor barley looked like the home for muggle children it had once housed. Once a light, airy, happy place; now a dark, dismal, desolate tomb and the headquarters for a meeting between the darkest pureblood elite in Britain.
The small congregation was seated in a grand parlour facing the north. A large adorned fireplace lit the room, its light flickering dangerously; adding tension to the already taut atmosphere. The Elite included the Avery, Black, Carrow, Dolohov and Lestrange heads of house. It was not unusual for this particular group of men to meet in private, what was unusual, was the cloaked man that had invited them here. This man was currently enjoying the screams of an elderly muggle man hung upside down in mid-air. The elite looking on fascinated and disgusted by the display.
"You see gentlemen the muggle race is a sub-species, not worthy of the title human. We are Nature's nobility. The pureblood. "Identical sadistic smiles painted across all of their faces at the statement.
"If these were real human's they would be able to defend themselves. Even dogs fight back when they are attacked. "The evil man removed the Cruciatis curse and the silencing charm so the group could hear the pathetic pleas of their victim.
The mindless warble of help me, please don't do this, let me go, what have I done, mercy, please I beg you mercy. Only made the men laugh.
They now understood what the cloaked man meant, none of them would ever beg for mercy, they all believed them self too dignified to lower themselves to such weak standards.
"What do you propose?" Avery called out, getting nods and agreements from his fellow heads of house for asking the question. All believing it very smart, yet the answer was completely obvious.
"Gentlemen, too long have we not received the proper respect to being a pureblood. Too long have we been forced to allow Mudblood's and Blood traitors to roam freely under our noses. We must eradicate the Mudblood threat. We must take what should be freely given. –He swept around the room with such charisma it would be impossible to look away-Other beings and races are inferior and should be subjugated. But mostly we must seek complete power over the wizarding world and restrict leadership to a small band of Pure bloods; such as ourselves.-The men cheered, blinded by their greed-"I will not rest! I will not die! Until out aims have been accomplished! I am LORD VOLDERMORT and we are DEATH EATERS!"
A thunderous applause reverberated around the manor, the beat of foot stomps on the floor pumping through Lord Voldermort like a second heartbeat. His plan was coming together. The first phase was complete. It was time the wizarding world knew its 'saviour' had arrived...
Thank you for reading.
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