Team Charm Seek the Stone!
By Matthew Li
Chapter 1
Murder of the Mansion
"Master… please… "Mwahahahaha!" "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" "Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…." "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead" "Bwahahahaha" "Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy… A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming high-pitched into darkness.
The person laughing was, of course, VOLDEMORT. He had been studying dark arts when he was a little kid. He was also known as Tom Riddle when he was little. He was sorted to Slytherin {a Hogwarts house} when he arrived a Hogwarts {a school for wizards}. He began using the name Voldemort when he was 16. Others feared his name so they often called him you-know-who or He-must-not-be-named.
Voldemort had confirmed many other murderers including the Potters. Another example was the murder ten years later.
Voldemort raced into the mansion hurriedly. He knew he must seek revenge. He heard two people talking softly.
"I hear someone coming in," a man's voice said. "It must be your imagination," a woman's tone whispered. The man's voice was in fact Bertrand Baudelaire, who had worked as a college professor teaching Physics.
Voldemort crept silently to the hall. THEN, "Stupefy" Voldemort bellowed. The two couples fell facedown on the welcome mat.
Voldemort raced away. He had more important things to do. He poured grease on the floor. Then, he took out a match and lit it. The fire fumed all the way across the ground. It caused an explosion when it hit the lamp.
It startled the Baudelaire's who were on the ground. "What was that sound," said the woman. The woman was certainly Beatrice Baudelaire. She wore a whole set of fashion clothes, all kinds of styles. She was also obsessed with money. If she lost just a dollar, she would go crazy.
Beatrice Baudelaire was now whimpering as the fire came near. She screamed as the fire just burned down a wall. "Now you are going to die Baubebear," Voldemort crackled.
Someone rang the doorbell. It was Jacques wearing a tie. He was shocked to see the ground covered with flames. "What's going on," he yelled. Jacques was Bertrand's brother. He owned a shop called Cheap Depot, which had many house parts and furniture. He also was a late sleeper. Once, it was one o' clock and he was still snoring loudly.
Jacques turned to the spot Bertrand was. He would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Jacques had turned around and there was a face, the most terrible face Jacques had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.
Jacques gasped. He felt his throat tighten. He opened his mouth but no words came out.
Voldemort raised his wand. "Furnunculus," he bellowed. It caused huge boils to spring up on Jacques.
"Beatrice, take Jacques and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—
"Crucio," Voldemort yelled before Beatrice ran. A jet of red light shot from the end of Voldemort's wand and hit Beatrice squarely in the chest.
It was pain beyond anything Beatrice had ever experienced; her very bones were on fire; her head was surely splitting along her eyes were rolling madly in her head; she wanted it to end . . . to black out . . . to die.
And then it was gone. She was hanging limply in the ropes binding him looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of Voldemort's laughter. Then, she ran away quickly.
"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this woman could ever have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I'm now going to prove my power by killing him," pointing at Bertrand, "here and now, in front of you all. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight and you will be left in no doubt which of us is stronger. Just a little longer Nagini," he whispered, and the snake glided away to where Jacques stood watching.
Jacques stood up and ran out of the mansion before Voldemort could stop her. He ran past the trees, got in his car, and drove off.
Meanwhile, Voldemort was ready to kill Bertrand. Voldemort raised his wand, and before Bertrand could do anything to defend himself, before he could even move, he had been hit by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was . . . White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin, his head was surely going to burst with pain, he was screaming more loudly than he'd ever screamed in his life—
And then it stopped. Voldemort gazed for a moment Bertrand, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.
"Voldemort . . . please"
Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it directly at Bertrand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of green light shot from the end of Voldemort's wand and hit Bertrand squarely in the chest. Bertrand's scream of horror never left him; silent and unmoving, he was blasted into the air. For a split second, he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backward, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.
"Bertrand! Bertrand!" Beatrice screamed as she ran through the walls of the mansion. The door came bursting open, someone stumbling from a room, and a cackle of high-pitched laughter—
It was Voldemort.
She stood frozen in place. "Incendio," Voldemort shrieked. A roar of flames circled around Beatrice. She screamed while Voldemort snickered. Then, he disappeared in thin air.
"Bertrand! Bertrand! Bertrand, HELP!" she yelled as the fire edged closer. "We have an emergency! Please, HELP! Have MERCY!"
The fire edged closer and burned her clothes. She screamed loud with all her might. She tried to keep the fire from burning her. But it was too late. The fire burned her skin and ripped her soul out. Burning and burning, she was nothing but ashes. There was nothing but two dead bodies and a burned down mansion.
A car came and out stepped a bank chief and three children.