20 August 1997
Tom Riddle poured himself his third glass of Firewhiskey. He hadn't felt this wary about a plan in sixteen years. Sixteen years. On occasion, he forgot how long it had been since he had killed the Potter's and taken their child. His life, and all of Britain had changed drastically since then. He had everything he had always dreamed of. He ruled Britain's wizarding world, and he killed all who opposed him. But he wanted more.
It wasn't enough that he had control of Britain, he wanted control of it all. From the America's to deepest forest in Africa, he wanted to rule it all. It had taken years for him to assert full control of Britain. There had been those who had opposed him, led by the old fool, Albus Dumbledore. But he, along with his Death Eaters, had killed everyone who stood up to him, and Dumbledore had gone into hiding.
Tom knew Dumbledore wasn't gone. Tom knew Dumbledore was planning his defeat, along with his precious Order of the Phoenix. But Tom was ready. His ranks of Death Eaters were stronger than ever and the Ministry was filled with those who supported him. Yes, there were families and individuals who wanted his blood. They were smart enough to keep quiet. Even the more vocal families such as the Weasley's and Bones' kept quiet.
But he knew could feel it in his bones, something big was coming. Something that would change the course of the entire wizarding world's future.
***August 5, 1991***
"Why don't you just kill them all?" Hadrian asked hotly. "The Weasley's, Bones', Diggory's, and everyone else who we know is a part of the Order?" Hadrian paced back and forth. "You're more powerful than all of them combined!"
"Sit down Hadrian," Tom said. Hadrian stared at his father. "Sit." Tom could see his son fighting an internal battle. He waited while several emotions flickered across Hadrian's eyes: confusion, frustration, annoyance, and anger. Finally, after almost a minute, Hadrian sat down.
"You're a child, Hadrian, your knowledge is not as vast as you think it is," Tom began. He could sense the tension building in his son, and see the indignation. He held up his hand. "It is true, I could dispatch my Death Eaters to every village in Britain. I could tell them to slaughter my enemies, be they man, woman, or child. But do you know what would happen?"
Hadrian's green eyes blazed with annoyance from his earlier comment. Tom reigned in his temper at his sons disrespect. No matter how mature his son was for his age, he was still a child.
"Shall I tell you then?" Tom asked, his words laced with a warning.
Hadrian masked his emotions. Good, he was learning. "Yes."
"Those who would otherwise sit in the shadows between my side and that of Dumbledore and those who oppose me would rise up. Killing to gain power, or keep people in line, is different than killing everyone who opposes me. There are those who would escape and rally all those who would otherwise do nothing. They would rise up, and our side would take incalculable losses. War is a dangerous game, it needs to be played with a certain finesse."
"Your Death Eaters go on raids all the time," Hadrian interjected.
"To instill fear Hadrian," Tom said. "A ruler can not rule without fear. Fear above all else keeps order. One day, when you stand at my side, you will understand." He paused. "As much as I would like for all to bow at my feet, I know this nothing but a foolish dream. There will always be those who oppose me. I must rule the way one must play wizards chess, with thought of every consequence."
Hadrian ran a finger down his nose, the way he always did when he was frustrated.
"I understand," Hadrian said.
Tom looked at his son. No, he didn't understand, but one day he would.
"My Lord?" Tom's head snapped up, his face devoid of all emotion. Lucius Malfoy stood poised at the door. A green silk ribbon tied his long blonde hair into a low ponytail.
"Monsieur Delacour is ready to finalize the negotiations," Lucius said.
Tom's lips thinned. "I will be there shortly." Lucius didn't move. "Is there something else Lucius?"
Lucius looked uncharacteristically nervous. "This isn't my place-"
"Then hold your tongue," Tom said. His blue eyes darkened.
"Hadrian is my godson," Lucius said.
Tom's eyes narrowed. He knew what Lucius was going to say, he had been thinking the same thing for days. He didn't like it, but the decision was his to make. His mind was made up.
"It is the only way," Tom said. "We need them, without their support we will never win France. It must be done."
"As your friend-"
"You are not here as my friend Lucius," a warning laced his words. "You are here as my right hand man, and loyal Death Eater. Do not make me threaten you." He waved his hand towards the door. "Return to the meeting room, and speak no more of it."
Lucius looked like he wanted to argue. His gray eyes momentarily flashed with apprehension.
"Yes, my Lord," Lucius bowed.
Tom watched as Lucius left the room. He got up, smoothed down his black robes and followed him from the room. He had a deal to make.
Albus Dumbledore hadn't felt older than his years for quite some time. He had been pondering why Tom hadn't been seen in weeks, and now he knew why.
"Are you sure of this Remus?" Albus asked. His hand frozen halfway to his long white beard.
"Unfortunately," Remus Lupin replied. The werewolf looked more haggard than usual. His light brown hair was speckled gray, large purple bags surrounded his golden eyes. "The werewolves have spoken of nothing but this for days. According to one of my informants, the deal is set to be struck tonight."
The temperature in the room dropped, as though a dementor had entered the room. Albus could feel the unease of everyone present. Out of the corner of his eye he looked at Severus Snape, the man showed no emotion. His face was pale and emotionless as though carved from stone.
"Albus," Minerva McGonaggal broke the silence. "If You-Know-Who gains the support of Sebastian Delacour, not only will he have the support of the most influential people in France, but also that of the Veelas. How could this happen without us knowing about it?"
Albus clasped his hands together. The truth was, he didn't know. He thought he would've been informed if Tom had gained a significant amount of headway in regards to any country or group. He had been so focused trying to hold onto his informants in various branches of Britain's Ministry, that he had neglected to put effort into gathering information on other countries. And he would never have fathomed that the Veela's would join Tom.
Sixteen years ago, the Tom he knew never would've considered standing in the same room as a Veela. Now, he was prepared to work with them. Albus didn't know what had changed in Tom, but over the past sixteen years, the wizard seemed willing to show tolerance for all those with magic. Tom had even stopped targeting those based on their blood.
Albus, could understand the latter. Besides it making Tom a hypocrite, muggleborns made up a large percentage of the magical world, it would harm Tom to ostracize them all. Although very few held any semblance of power in Britain, there were muggleborns who followed the self-proclaimed Dark Lord. Even though they were still seen as inferior to most pure bloods.
Yet, why Tom switched his views on what he had once called "half-breeds", Albus didn't know. There weren't very many of them, especially in Britain. The werewolves had been of use to Tom. But Albus didn't know what Tom could gain from the Veela's.
"Severus," Albus began, "were you aware of this?"
Severus stepped forward from the corner where he'd been observing. He moved as quiet as a ghost. His stringy black hair bounced as he walked.
"I was not," Severus said. His tone clipped. "The Dark Lord does not tell any one person all of his plans. Not even those of us in his inner circle. I was not aware of the Dark Lord's plans to recruit the Veela. How Lupin was able to come across such information I do not know." He shot Remus a sidelong glance that Albus was sure only he noticed.
"Of course not," a sneering voice cut him off.
"Silence mutt," Severus sneered.
Sirius jumped to his feet, his shoulders tense.
"Don't you dare speak to me that way, you slimy Death Eater," Sirius snarled.
Severus' lips curled. "Azkaban did nothing to improve your temper Black." Every syllable held a trace of mockery. Sirius flinched, and a haunted look appeared on his face. In that moment he aged ten years. Albus felt a pang of guilt, he pushed it down.
"Why don't you run along like a good little mutt, maybe if you go downstairs young Miss Weasley will play fetch with you," Severus' eyes glinted like onyx.
"That is enough," Albus said. Magic laced his voice. Sirius glared at Severus, and for a moment, Albus saw a fifteen year old Sirius and Severus standing in his old office at hogwarts. "There is a war going on. We are not the enemy. You two need to let go of the past. Sirius has been out of Azkaban for six years, and in that time you two have spoken not one civil word to the other. It is time for you both to grow up."
Severus and Sirius looked murderous. Albus might as well told them to walk into a pit with a Manticore without their wands. Albus looked between the two men. He sighed as he sat back down.
"Severus, I need you to find out all that you can," Albus said.
"I will do as best I can without making the Dark Lord suspicious," Severus murmured.
"That is all I ask," Albus said. "Remus, I need you to return to your pack. We need to uncover why Tom wants the Veela's to join him."
"Isn't it obvious?" A gruff voice broke in. Everyone turned to Alastor Moody. His one good eye focused on Albus, his magical eye zoomed around the room. Grizzly scars covered his face, and a chunk of his nose was missing. "The Veela's are powerful, they possess a magic that others don't."
"We are all aware of that Alastor," Arthur Weasley interrupted. "But the Veelas are a small group. There aren't more than several hundred of them left. Why You-Know-Who would spend his time-"
"Voldemort," Alastor barked. Everyone but Albus and Kingsley Shacklebolt blanched. Alastor grunted in disgust. "How can we expect to fight him if all of you keep flinching at the mere mention of his name?"
"Alastor," Minerva admonished.
Albus sighed, Alastor was right. He had been trying to get people to say Tom's moniker for years to no avail.
"Enough," Albus said. His voice came out tired. He turned his dull blue eyes to Remus.
"I'll do what I can Albus," Remus said.
"That is all I ask," Albus said. "Be safe, and do what needs to be done to keep your cover."
Remus grimaced as he turned to leave. Albus contained a sigh, he didn't like sending Remus under cover with the werewolves. Unfortunately, Remus was one of only a handful of werewolves not loyal to Tom. The others who weren't, were too scared to do anything more than occasionally pass Remus small tidbits of information.
"Since you have the floor," Albus said, "is there anything you have to report, Severus?"
"I haven't heard from the Dark Lord in some time," Severus continued. "Now I know why. However, I have learned that the Dark Lord is rapidly growing support among purebloods in Germany."
"I was afraid of that," Albus said tiredly.
"We have to do something Albus," Kingsley Shackelbolt interjected, his voice deep and smooth as velvet. "The Order is weakening, our members are slowly being killed off. We've known for some time that Voldemort was attempting to gather foreign followers. Durmstrang has come to be a school for Death Eaters in training. We must act."
"What are you suggesting?" Arthur asked.
All eyes were on the swarthy wizard. Kingsley stood up straighter.
"Voldemort shouldn't be the only one recruiting," Kingsley said. "There are people who want to fight, they just don't know how. We need to reach out to those we know don't follow him, and begin recruiting in other countries. We can't win this war alone. He's too strong, and his army is growing too large." He turned dark eyes to Albus. "I know the Order has always been comprised mostly of those families who have fought with you from the beginning of Voldemort's rise to power. But we can't hope to win if we don't try something new."
"Kingsley is right," Albus said. "I have been a fool." Images of his youth flashed before his eyes, he pushed them away.
"Albus, you've done your best," Minerva defended.
Albus smiled, a small spark flared to life in his blue eyes.
"No, Minerva," Albus stood up. Power radiated from him as he looked at his fellow Order memers. "I never wanted to bring those into the war who didn't want to be. But Tom isn't giving anyone a chance. Tom has taken the Ministry, he has taken Hogwarts, and he has taken Britain. I have done everything I can to stop Tom, I haven't been enough. I have been a fool, an old fool. It is time to risk it all to take back Britain." All around the room people exchanged apprehensive looks. "No one has to do anything they do not want."
"We're with you Albus," Arthur said. He reached over and squeezed his wife's hand.
Tears brimmed Molly's hazel eyes. Albus felt pity for the Weasley matriarch. Two of her children attended Hogwarts, where by law all children in Britain must attend. And two of her sons, Fred and George had joined Tom's cause. Molly hadn't spoken to her twins sons since the day they left home.
He could still remember vividly, watching Molly's memory of that day.
*** June 10, 1996 ***
An ominous silence fell over the yard. Even the cacophony of clucking chickens, griping garden gnomes, and rustling wind that normally filled the overgrown garden was gone. All eyes stared at the identical red heads. Their lanky bodies looked relaxed as they stuffed their hands into their jean pockets in unison.
"What did you say?" Molly asked. Her cheeks were flushed and her shoulders stiff.
Arthur put his hand on his wife's shoulder.
"We said that we aren't joining the Order," George said.
"You've wanted to join the Order since you were twelve," Arthur said looking flummoxed.
"Just because we said something," Fred began.
"Doesn't make it true," George finished.
Their faces broke into identical grins. Albus had known the Weasley twins since they were born, he had never seen them smile that way. Their smiles were cold, and their eyes colder.
"What's going on here Fred, George?" Arthur asked.
"They've gone mental," Ron muttered as he stared wide eyed at his brothers. No doubt, he'd ever seen any of his siblings speak in that manner towards their mother.
"Close your mouth Ronnie," Fred smirked.
Ron opened his mouth to speak, then slammed his jaw shut. The tips of his ears turned red.
"To answer your question," George said. "We're done."
"Done pretending to be who we're not," Fred added.
"You see, mother," George sneered, "Our whole lives you've done nothing but compare us to Percy-"
"And Bill, and Charlie," Fred continued.
"And precious little Ginny," George said. "You've laughed at our goals, calling them childish dreams. You and dad have made us feel like outcasts, like we aren't good enough."
"Thankfully," Fred said, "we found a new family. People who care about us. People who accept us, who we are, and what we want."
Arthur and Molly stared at the twins in horror and confusion. Ginny looked like she had been slapped, and Ron looked furious. Percy spluttered as red began to creep up his neck. All of their eyes held a twinge of hurt. Albus didn't want to believe what he was hearing. He knew the twins, or thought he did. They were pranksters, always laughing and smiling.
"We love and accept you," Arthur said. Albus could hear the strain in his voice.
"Don't make us laugh," George spat.
"If you truly cared, you would've noticed every time we snuck away," Fred said.
"You would've noticed that our grades went from mediocre to some of the best in our year," George added.
"But it doesn't matter," George shook his head.
"We only came home to tell you one thing," Fred said.
Their smiles turned colder than the arctic, their eyes hardened like ice.
"The Dark Lord sends his regards." The twins said in unison.
Albus saw confusion flash on the five Weasley's faces. The twins pulled out their wands, a manic gleam in their hard blue eyes. Confusion turned to comprehension when the twins pointed their wands at the home the Weasley's had lived in for decades. Comprehension turned to horror as the twins silently cast a spell, sending streams of fire at the Burrow.
The sound of glass shattering filled the air, and several birds in a nearby apple tree flew into the sky. Garden gnomes ran screaming from bushes as flames devoured the Weasley's home. A blood curdling scream tore from Molly's throat as pain and betrayal filled her eyes. Molly fell to her knees as they gave out. Ron and Ginny stood frozen in shock as they watched their house go up in flames.
Arthur ran towards the house, wand in hand, as he attempted to put out the flames. One wizard attempting to put out the fire wasn't enough. Soon, the entire Burrow was in flames. A crackling sound filled the air. The smell of burnt wood permeated the air, as the house slowly crumpled to the ground.
"What have you done?" Percy yelled as he pulled out his wand. He pointed it at the twins. "What have you done?" His hand shook. "What have you done?" His voice cracked as he stared at his younger brothers in disbelief.
The twins continued to smile, their wands held at their sides. They looked relaxed, but Albus could see the tight grips they had on them.
"We've given you a warning," George replied.
"Stay out of the Dark Lord's war," Fred said.
Ron shook himself from his stupor and ran towards Arthur to help douse the flames.
"Of course we are," Molly added.
All around the room murmurs of agreement rang out. Determination was the prominent emotion on many of the faces, fear and apprehension mixed in. Albus couldn't blame them. If any of them were found to be working against Tom's regime, the punishment would be worse than death.
"We have plans to make," Albus stated.
The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him.
A tall, lean young man sat regally upon a giant silver throne. Snakes wound around the arms, emeralds shone from where their eyes should be. The jewels glinted, as though blinking, giving the snakes an eery human quality. Though six fireplaces roared, their flames reaching six feet high, a cold chill hung in the air.
"That's enough," Hadrian said. The man who had been speaking instantly fell silent. Hadrian's emerald eyes glinted with amusement as the man's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
He observed the three men before him and a sneer tugged at his lips. He couldn't decide whether the men before him were imbeciles for having wasted the past three hours of his life, or if he was, for not cursing them for doing so.
"Berkendorf, return to your post at the Ministry," Hadrian intoned. "I will relay your report to my father upon his return." The man in the middle bowed low before disappearing with an audible crack. "You two, I expect a more thorough report next time." The two men stared at him hesitantly. "Was there something else?" Hadrian asked, his eyes flashed a warning.
"Not at all, young Lord," the man on the right quickly said.
"Then you're both dismissed," Hadrian said. The men bowed lowed before they too disappeared.
Hadrian rubbed the bridge of his nose. He hated when his father was out of the country. Since he had turned fifteen two years ago, Hadrian had begun taking his fathers place when the man was unavailable. The majority of his fathers Death Eaters were competent, but some, he was surprised knew which way was up.
"Wasn't that amusing?" a voiced to Hadrian's right drawled. A tall, lithe boy appeared. His blonde hair was perfectly styled, and his forest green robes impeccable.
"I serve to please you Draco," Hadrian mocked.
"Now, now," a deep voice purred, "let's play nice." A boy appeared on Hadrian's left. He had black hair, windswept, as though he had just stepped off a broom.
"Blaise Zabini telling someone to play nice?"
"That's the very definition of ironic, wouldn't you say?"
"Oh yes, dear brother. I do concur."
Hadrian waved his hand lazily and two red heads appeared in front of him. They were lanky, and wore identical grins of amusement. Fred and George Weasley's grins grew as Blaise glared at them.
"I don't know how the Dark Lord does it," Draco leaned against Hadrian's throne, his arms crossed over his chest. "Listening to those blubbering fools is enough to make anyone go mental."
"Is that what happened to you?" Blaise asked. A sickly yellow light flew towards him. In less than a second his wand was out. With a flick of his wrist a shield sprung to life, absorbing the curse. "You foul prat."
"He's not so much foul as he is arrogant." Hadrian looked up to see a Draco's cousin, Cygnus Lestrange, strut through the door.
"I'm arrogant?" Draco scoffed. "The only thing bigger than your ego is Hogwarts."
"Touchy, touchy," Cygnus smirked. "One might think you're compensating for something." He made a point to scan Draco's body, stopping under his waist.
Draco's cheeks tinged pink as Blaise and the twins laughed.
"How did the briefing go?" Cygnus asked as he conjured himself a chair. "Kill anyone?"
"He didn't even curse anyone," Draco said. A tinge of disappointment laced his words.
Hadrian shot Draco a silencing look. "They're Death Eaters, Draco, not prisoners. I won't curse them without reason, no matter how much I would sometimes like to." He turned to Cygnus. "It was a basic briefing, only three Death Eaters came to report. Nothing of consequence."
"Everything is of consequence."
Everyone except Hadrian started. Tom walked out from behind Hadrian's throne.
"You could've apparated in front of us," Hadrian said amused.
"Yes," Tom replied. "I could have." Tom placed his hand on Hadrian's shoulder.
"Hello, my Lord," Draco said respectfully.
The others greeted Tom as Hadrian eyed him. His father was able to hide his emotions like no other. Yet, Hadrian could always tell what mood his father was in. He could sense that he had something to tell Hadrian. And that Hadrian wouldn't like it.
"They were just leaving," Hadrian said.
His friends looked at him.
"Right," George said.
"Just leaving," Fred agreed.
"If you are home, my father must be as well," Draco said. "He'll be wanting me for dinner."
As Hadrian's friends said their goodbyes, Tom took the throne next to his. It looked the same, except it was slightly larger.
"What's wrong?" Hadrian asked as the wooden doors closed behind Blaise.
"Why must something always be wrong?" Tom said.
"You may be the world's most powerful occlumens but I can read it on your face," Hadrian said. "I know you know something that you don't want to tell me." He ran his left index finger over the ring on his right hand. It was a thick silver band, an emerald was set in the center. It was the Slytherin heir ring, passed down from father to son for thousands of years. "Did you not come to an agreement with the Veela's?"
Hadrian didn't think that was it. His father wasn't one to take no for an answer. He wouldn't have returned to Britain without the addition of new allies, or new prisoners.
"The Veela's will join us," Tom said. "But they wanted something in return."
Hadrian looked incredulously at his father. "Since when do you care about what others want? Especially people you don't care one knut about."
"We need the Veela's," Tom said. "With them on our side, we are one step closer to bringing the goblins to us. And Sebastian Delacour is not just the husband and father of Veela's, he's France's Minister of Magic. With him will come not only an entire breed, but a country as well."
His father was using his orator voice, the one he used on his Death Eaters. The one he used to persuade people to do whatever it was he wanted. Hadrian's eyes narrowed.
"What did you promise them?" Hadrian asked.
"Sebastian wanted to ensure the safety of his family," Tom answered. A suspicion flared to life in Hadrian's mind. "He offered me his oldest daughter, Fleur, to be your wife."
"My. What?" Hadrian asked through gritted teeth. He saw red as his left hand clenched into a fist. He prided himself on being able to control his emotions, but he was beyond furious.
"Hadrian," Tom said calmly, "It's a marriage of convenience, nothing more."
"You want me, to marry some Veela," Hadrian ground out. "The son of the Dark Lord marrying a half-breed, what will your Death Eaters say?" His eyes flashed in challenge.
His father didn't take the bait. "I am their Lord, they will say what I tell them to." He paused. "You know I don't care about blood, you know why I spoke of pureblood supremacy. I was young, I was foolish, I needed followers. I am a halfblood, you are a halfblood. I would never see myself as inferior, nor would I you." He stood up. "The Delacour's are one of the wealthiest and most influential families in France. Sebastian's wife Appoline is the head of the Veela council, if she sides with me, the other Veela's will follow."
"I don't want to marry some girl I've never even met," Hadrian countered. He was seventeen, he didn't want to be tied down. He had fun, he wanted that fun to continue.
"She need not be your only wife," Tom said. "Since the beginning of time, many wizards have taken more than one wife. It is common in the wizarding world, especially among the elite. More wives, leads to more children. Wizards have always wanted their family name to go on. Marry Fleur, consummate the marriage, and then never share her bed if that is what you wish. Marry another woman, keep a mistress or two. I don't care. But you will marry Fleur. It is an alliance I can't afford to lose."
"You didn't ask me," Hadrian said. Frustration bubbled inside of him like a cauldron ready to explode.
Normally Hadrian followed his father's orders. He had forgone formal schooling to be trained by his father and his inner circle. He had spent the past ten years training almost non-stop. He had led raids and attended meetings he thought would never end. Because he believed in his father's cause. He thought his father could make the wizarding world better than it had ever been. But to marry some Veela he had never met?
He knew he was being irrational, something that was unlike him. If his father had asked him, he would've said yes. But for his father to make a deal regarding his romantic future without him. He didn't care that his father was the Dark Lord. That was on a whole other level of controlling. That was something pureblood families did when they didn't want their lines to be tainted.
"I understand," Tom said. "I am asking a lot of you."
Tom tilted his head an inch to the right. Hadrian bit his tongue to stop the curses he knew would escape. He was seventeen. He was being immature. He was the son of the Dark Lord. He did what needed to be done, whether or not he liked it. He was a trained warrior, he should've known better than to lose his temper. Had he been a Death Eater, he would have been writhing on the floor.
"If it's what needs to be done," Hadrian said. His voice devoid of emotion.
Tom eyed Hadrian. He kept his face empty, but he knew his father could read him like an open book.
"At times like this it may not seem like it, but I do love you, my son. I am thinking not only of myself, but of your future," Tom said. Hadrian felt his anger slowly ebb away.
"When will I meet her?" Hadrian asked. His voice less hostile.
A smile tugged on Tom's lips before it vanished. "She will arrive in three days. You will have the week before September to get to know each other." Tom stood. "The wedding shall be in December."
Hadrian felt like he had been hit by a confundus charm. "December, as in this December?"
"Yes," Tom said. "The details will be decided upon at a later date. She will stay with you at Hogwarts, not in the same room of course."
"At Hogwarts?" Hadrian asked in confusion before it hit him like a bludger.
Hadrian had been so busy the past two weeks covering for his father he had forgotten he would be teaching at Hogwarts come September. He had never attended Hogwarts, and he had only been there a dozen or so times. However, his training had been completed and his father had wanted him to be useful for their cause.
His father had said he could help by recruiting to their side. There were many neutral wizards and witches in Britain. Those too scared of his father to oppose him, those who didn't care about the war, those who wanted to pick one side but was scared of the consequences. Tom thought it would be good to have Hadrian in the school as a professor, as a seventeen year old, someone who should be a seventh year, he could be beneficial. He could relate to the students in a way older people couldn't.
"How old is she, will she be attending Hogwarts?" Hadrian asked.
"Fleur will turn twenty in September," Tom said. "She graduated from Beauxbatons two years ago."
"Of course," Hadrian said. A twenty year old fiance? Blaise was going to love that.
Tom acted as though he had said nothing. "As your betrothed you will need to find her a ring. I have already made the call, Narcissa's jeweler will be her shortly."
One of the fireplaces roared to life. A wiry man stepped out, he was dressed in a purple pinstriped suit, and had a thin handle bar mustache. He wore a smarmy smile on his face, and his eyes darted around the room greedily. He reminded Hadrian of the Hogwarts Potion's professor, Horace Slughorn. Hadrian's lips thinned.
*!*!*!
Fire fell from the sky like rain. Screams filled the air as blood flowed down the cobblestone street. Glass shattered, roofs caved in, and doors blew apart. Flashes of green light mixed with jets of sickly yellow and bright blues.
The scene changed, pine cones littered the forest floor. Trees as tall as skyscrapers appeared to be melting. Birds chirped urgently as the image zoomed in on a frozen lake. A hand shot out from beneath the ice, cracked and bloody. The hand clenched and unclenched repeatedly. A voice seemed to be coming from beneath the frozen lake.
"The time is upon us," the voice spoke.
A second hand shot out from beneath the ice. This is one too was covered in cracks and blood. A flash of silver light, and where the hands had been a small girl stood. Her eyes were gray, and cold as death. Silvery blonde hair flowed half way down her back. She smiled, her white teeth bared as if they were fangs.
"So much death," she purred, her eyes closed in ecstasy. "It is coming."
Once more the scene changed. The small girl was now sitting on a swing in a muggle park. It was dark, except for the stars splattered on the night sky.
"Death, death, death, death," the girl chanted. A smile plastered on her face.
Her legs swung back and forth as the swing continued to go higher and higher. A loud sound filled the night air. The nearest tree exploded, leaves fluttered to the ground, their edges singed. Another tree exploded, bark flying into the sky. Then another tree, and another. The little girl laughed as bark and leaves rained down, not caring when cuts began to litter her body.
"Blood shall flow through the streets," her eyes slowly turned white. "And the world shall drowned in it."
A low laugh escaped her throat, it grew louder and louder until it seemed as though the whole world could hear its cruel beat.
*!*!*!
Gray eyes snapped open as Luna Lovegood woke with a start. Her wavy blonde hair was plastered to her head, her hands were in fists. That was the third time in a week she'd had that dream. It was a sign, like everything else she saw. She had the gift of sight, she always had. Usually the visions came when she was awake, in small pieces. Lately, she'd been getting them even when she slept, and more frequently when she was awake. She didn't know what they meant, but she knew they didn't bode well.
"Luna?" A voice interrupted her thoughts. Green eyes peered up at her.
"I'm fine," Luna said. Her voice as usual came out whimsical, but the green eyes narrowed. She unclenched her fists.
"I always know when you're lying," Hadrian accused. His eyes flickered to her hands.
"It's nothing you need to worry about," Luna said. "Not now."
Hadrian studied Luna carefully. She hated keeping things from him, she always had. But he would worry and she didn't want that. Not with what she knew he would be going through in the coming months. She had seen hard times ahead for him, he didn't need to worry about her.
"If you insist," Hadrian murmured.
Hadrian held his arm out. Luna put on a smile and laid her head on his shoulder. She listened to Hadrian breathe in and out until it became an even rhythm. She tried to fall asleep, but when she did the image of the small girl filled her mind. She opened her eyes, and laid in bed until dawn. The girls crazed laugh ringing in her ears.
AN:
-I don't picture Voldemort/Tom hating based on blood due to him being a halfblood. I don't see him looking down on himself.
-Hadrian and his friends have a sort of playful banter, they're only seventeen, and even though they're powerful and Hadrian is the son of the Dark Lord they're barely adults. That back and forth banter is how my friends and I were at that age. It won't always be like that with them, but they will of course be more relaxed in a relaxed setting.
-Reviews are appreciated!