The Latter's Tale

As Harry, Ron, and Hermione work to destroy the Horcruxes and finally end Voldemort's reign, Dumbledore's Army fight just as fiercely to protect their home.

{Prologue}

Lightning from the Tomb

The sky was just as black and menacing as they had been all year. It was like some giant had draped a smoky veil over the usually blue atmosphere. Daytime wasn't much better either; the sky was just as grey and ominous. Even the stars had disappeared from the sky, apparently smothered by the veil. Scotland itself seemed to have overcome a depression.

A light but ice cold wind swept across the Black Lake, pushing long waves across the water in an unusually quiet manner. Rising from the waves was a small, mossy island barren with nothing but a few lonely pines, and a long, white marble tomb. All was still.

Then a man appeared.

If you could call him a man. His flesh was pale and white, his head bald and mapped with veins like rivers on an atlas, a heavy naked brow that acted as awning to two cold, piercing blue eyes. He had no nose, only two slits like a serpent's. He was clothed in black silk robes that seemed that they were once clean and handsome, now musty and coated with green hints of color. He was barefoot, and his toenails were mustard-colored and matched his fingernails. His right hand was clasped around a bone-like, carved wand, pointed and sharp-looking. And he had appeared from thin air, with not much more than a quick whistling noise.

Voldemort stood at the end of the tomb. He suddenly raised his wand and the tomb's lid cracked. It was as if some invisible force pushed all its weight on the marble, which had no choice but to give way to the spell's power.

Voldemort vanished the remaining pieces of the lid. The only purpose of casting the curse at the lid was to break the protective spells that were placed over this wizard's grave. But it wasn't the wizard's corpse he wanted, it was what had been left with him in the tomb he desired.

Dumbledore's body seemed like it was sleeping. The old man's face was wrinkled and creased in many places and he had his long silvery beard tied. He had been laid in fresh periwinkle robes and covered with a shroud of the precise same shade of color. Clutched in his hands was a wand.

It was an unusual-looking wand. It had little carved beads on its length, with an odd honeycomb pattern etched in each bulb. It was very long, and runes were etched in black near the handle. Voldemort smiled, or, the ends of his lipless mouth turned upwards to show content; it was like a crocodile's smile; cold, menacing... He pulled out the wand.

He cradled the Elder Wand in his hands. He finally possessed what he needed to destroy all those that stood in his way…

Then he pointed the wand at the sky. From its tip, lightning shot from the wand to the sky, the light breaking the darkness and suddenly making it as bright as day. Voldemort stood and admired the Elder Wand's powers.