Hi guys! Ok, I actually haven't touched this fic in like three/four years so this is the only chapter I've written –recently-. Please excuse typos/spelling mistakes in the first two chapters/the first chapter and the prelude. Hopefully this chapter (where we will really get to the guts of the story!) will be a lot better written ;; - As always do R and R, and I will try to get back to you and review your fics too!
Much Love,

EER

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, save for (E)Lenore. Any resemblences to persons living or dead is purely coincidental

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It was a quiet, unusually frosty August morning. The sun was just beginning to peep over the broad brown shoulders of the trees and bracken surrounding the small, stately property, casting an eerie, misty sunlight over the lawn, with it's overgrown topiary bushes, and bramble-roses.

A ray of sunlight, through the window, alighted on the face of a slender, yet well-shaped teenage girl. In the washed-out dawn light, she looked pale, though it was hard to tell if this was her natural colouring, or simply the work of the milky sunlight. Her dark hair (long), fanned out around the pillow, brilliant and glossy, as though she'd spent hours in a salon, rather than hours sprawled out in her large, comfortable bed.

Her eyes opened, slowly – brilliant blue orbs staring around the room. For a moment, it seemed she didn't recognise it. Her brows furrowed.

She'd had that dream again. A dream about a burning house – her parents, both dead – an orphanage, and those dreams-within-dreams of a man – a lonely, tall man, with a dark past - …he rescued her.

She shook her head, sitting up, trying to rid herself of her night visions. They were just dreams. Silly dreams, really.

Rolling out of bed, she crossed to her mirror, reaching unconciously for a brush to run through her lengthy, raven hair. She studied herself critically for a moment, before pulling off her white night-dress, reaching for her underwear which lay draped over the back of an armchair, as it always did. She liked things tidy. She liked to lay things out before she went to bed.

Today seemed like it might prove to be quite warm. Though the air outside was misty, full of frost, it would no doubt heat up once the sun was properly risen. She selected a blue silk camisole and a short black pleated skirt, tugged them on, and descended the curving mahogany staircase, in to the breakfast room.

"Morning Dad!"

Voldemort smiled, lowering his copy of The Daily Prophet. "Good morning, Lenore. And how did you sleep?"

"Alright." She plopped down in to a chair beside him, reaching out for the toast rack. "I had some weird dreams, but other than that, I can't complain. You?"

Voldemort laughed, sardonically. "I never sleep."

"Oh…" she grinned, looking up at him over her slice of strawberry jam smeared toast "That's right."

"Lenore, I have some important business to attend to, today…"

"Tell me something I don't know." She replied, sassily. He always had important business to attend to. He never told her what that business might be, but she rarely saw him between the hours of 9am and 12pm. She didn't like to ask where he went. It didn't seem to be any of her business.

"Yes, well…" he frowned slightly, his ever-youthful countenance becoming, for a moment, wizened and old. "This time, dear, it involves you."

"Me?" she blinked. As his only daughter, she knew she was important. She knew someday he would tell her all the secrets he'd kept from her – what his plans were, where he went everyday – but she never expected to be a part of them. For the past 16 years, he'd raised her, schooled her, dressed her, fed her, loved her, looked after her better than (she was sure) a mother could have. But what in the world could he need her for? He always seemed so capable.

"Yes, you." He stood up, extending his hand to her. "Have you finished your breakfast?"

"….I….uh…sure…." she let the toast drop back on to her plate, jam-side-down. It could wait.

"Good….then come with me…"

--

Voldemort led Elenore down the hallway, past the formal sitting room and dining rooms, and in to his study. The room was paneled wood and green leather, and had an odd smell – something like a mix of tobacco and cologne. She'd been in here before, though only on a few rare occasions. She liked to look at the books – arranged on a myriad of floor to ceiling bookshelves – all on advanced magical topics – topics she couldn't hope to learn about, in full, for some time. In the corner, Nagini was curled up, great coils of white underbelly heaving as she slept. Elenore rubbed her head gently as she passed her, hissing a few soothing, affectionate words in parselmouth.

Voldemort smiled. He loved to see his little girl display her powers, like this. Parselmouth was rare. It would command her a good deal of respect, with the right people, when he sent her back. It hadn't been easy passing it on to her, either. Nor had giving her normal magical ability. The series of complex rituals had left them both bruised and broken – so much so that he'd had to modify her memory, so as she forgot the harrowing ordeals. But the results had been worth it.

"Lenore…here, please…" he beckoned her away from Nagini, pressing down what looked like a screw in one of the bookcases. It acted as a trigger, springing open a hidden door in the floor.

"A trapdoor…?" she laughed "You're so sneaky, daddy!"

"I certainly am." He conceded, ushering her over to the dark hole. "Down you go, then. There's a ladder. It's perfectly safe."

Nodding, Elenore backed down in to the little tunnel, finding her footing easily, and disappearing into the darkness.

After a few moments, Voldemort followed.

--

As Elenore's feet hit the stone cold ground, a few torches sprung to life in their brackets around the surrounding dank, slimy walls. Voldemort stepped on to the ground just behind her, and lowered his wand.

"Do you remember the name of that spell?" he quizzed her. He liked to make sure she was recalling all this -–even the elementary spells he'd taught her years previously.

"Lumos. Yes. I remember it." She rolled her eyes "Really, Daddy, I'm not stupid…but…where are we?"

She gazed around. It was so dark, and gloomy. Rows of what looked like cells ran the length of both walls, though they all seemed to be empty. Except, that is, for the very last cell. A small, indistinct whimpering seemed to be coming from it.

Voldemort led her towards the cell. In it, cowered a small man with squinty, weeping eyes. He was utterly wretched to look at – all in rags, his hands bent and crippled like rats paws. When he saw The Dark Lord, and his chosen daughter, he shrunk even further back against the wall, whimpering. Elenore noted that one of his hands was silvery, and looked to be made of some sort of metal, though it was just as crippled as his normal hand.

"This…" Voldemort began "…is Wormtail. Say hello, Wormtail…" the Dark Lord rattled the bars of Pettigrew's cage, viciously.

Wormtail whimpered. "…hello….wormtail…"

Elenore laughed, cruelly. She'd never really given much thought to how she felt about imprisoning human beings, but surely this one deserved it. He was so weak, and faded. So worthless. Her lips twitched up in a small smirk.

"Who is he, father?"

"My liability." Voldemort sighed. "He was useful to me, for a time, but now that I have no immediate need of him, this is the safest place for him. Sadly. I wish I could trust him enough to let him out…or even to feed him, but…" he shrugged "You have to be careful to whom you bequeath such privaledges, Lenore."

She nodded, slowly. "I understand."

"I am showing you Wormtail…" he pre-empted her next question "Because you need to understand the severity of what I am about to tell you. The repercussions, for those who fail me. And believe me…" he turned to her, running a hand along her cheek, gently, "I know you will not fail me. But you have to learn…"

Elenore nodded. She had known, already, that her father was involved in something serious. That was why she wasn't allowed to go to a normal school – to play with other children, when she was younger – even to leave the house. He'd told her it was for their safety. That one day, she would be able to be free of the dusty, musty old estate. That she could meet others like her – interact with them. But not for now. For now, she had to be still, and be safe. For his sake and her own.

"Elenore…" he knew she had drifted from his words. "Listen…I have told you that we are on the run. That we must hide. That we are fighting a war, against evil you cannot imagine. But I have not told you your part in this." He swallowed. "it is time, now. Time that I did."

Elenore nodded, her raven hair glistening in the flickering torch light. "Tell me, father."

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Ok so next time you get to find out what his plan is! Heh. I promise! I will write that chapter now, actually, but I thought I should end this one here – too long, otherwise! As always, R and R! It's fun, kids!