The Stolen Hallow
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything. All copyright and so forth to J.K. Rowling.
Prologue
A warm wind swept through the graveyard of Godric's Hollow, stirring the green trees of summer. The grave of Ignotus Perevall lay crumbling, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows hewn into the stone at the top, barely visible in the twilight.
A man in a long, black cloak made his way between the graves, moving purposefully toward the Peverel's tomb. He stopped and looked around. Curtains were being pulled shut and lights were being turned off as night descended on the onetime home of Godric Gryffindor.
With one further glance around to make sure none were watching, the man in the black robe withdrew his wand from his cloak pocket and aimed it at the grave stone. A red flash lit up the man's twisted face for a moment. With a groan, a crack appeared down the centre and the tomb split in two.
The man's red eyes peered disdainfully into the depths and after a moment the dirt cleared.
"Lumos," the man muttered.
The grave looked as if it had been recently disturbed, because the dust was lighter in some places than others, as if the wind had swept in and lifted it. There was a body wrapped in a cloth of majestic blue.
The dark man pointed his wand at the body and rolled it over, searching. After a moment he saw it; a red silk bundle lay in the corner.
"Accio bundle," the man rasped. He unwrapped it almost lovingly. A wand fell onto the leaf strewn ground. He hastened to pick it up, and smiled as it lay in his hands. He felt like laughing, it was almost too easy.
The Elder Wand was his.
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