Chapter 3. Demons.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Not mine ...huddles in a corner and weeps...
Some moments before...
Being staked out naked upon a marble altar on the cold moors of Scotland was not his idea of fun, especially not with the audience of goggling Death Eaters. Then again, the last week had been less than excellent. Indeed, having the infamous Dark Lord Voldemort drawing a giant rune circle around that same altar and using his own blood to paint various symbols upon his tortured body, all the while chanting some strange spell, was sending a very negative message. Heavy damage to his vocal chords prevented him from commenting on the singing, as well.
Voldemort moved outside the runic circle and drew in the last rune, completing the circle. His chanting gained in volume, ending with a triumphant shout and arms upraised. A heavy, one might almost say expectant, silence fell upon the group. None moved, no swishing of robes disturbed the stillness. The air seemed heavy, yet as moments passed, nothing happened.
Pettigrew broke the silence. "Master..."
Voldemort turned upon him. "Silence, you fool! Crucio!" Pettigrew's screams shattered whatever was left of the tattered silence, yet the others were frozen into obedience, their eyes unwillingly drawn to their screaming colleague.
"Who dares to wake me from my slumber?" An Inhuman Voice of Doom™ covered the screams, and all eyes snapped back to the circle and its contents, then up, and up, and up... It is hard to describe how far up, but the Inhuman Voice of Doom™ was accompanied by an Inhuman Furred Creature of Doom™, undoubtedly the tallest thing on the moors. A gigantic white fox (or perhaps some other member of the family Canidae, the Death Eaters were really not quite sure) stood displaying monolith-sized fangs and waving multiple tails. Moreover, the creature was somewhat outside the circle, which was obviously not up to the task of containing the giant.
Let no one say that Voldemort was cowardly, though startled enough to have kept Pettigrew under the Cruciatus until that point. Nevertheless, his need to answer meant that he broke off the torture of his servant. A fast spell threw Pettigrew to the fox's feet. "It was I, Lord Voldemort, the heir of your old master, Lord Slytherin. Demon Lord, I have called you here to rain death and destruction down on my enemies! And you may start with him!" Pointing towards the altar.
The present...
They say that just before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. He thought he might have enjoyed that, at least it would put off the issue for a while. Because being pinned by the gaze of a building-sized demon fox made him feel like lunch. Unfortunately, that did not seem to be an unrealistic expectation.
"Demon, you served my great ancestor well. I give you these creatures as an initial offering in what will be a marvelous alliance! Join me and you will be able to feast on the bones of millions!"
He seemed to be on the menu. Damn. Though perhaps he should be grateful that Wormtail, that traitor, was going down along with him.
The Inhuman Furred Creature of Doom™ turned its gaze (of Doom, of course) back upon its summoner, then swept it across the masked audience. A lazy yawn revealed teeth that would give nightmares to a shark.
"Aa, so you are of Salazar's get? His intelligence was clearly not genetic, then. I grant you one boon, mortal, for being his descendant... time to run!" One moment passed, then two, as Voldemort and the Death Eaters stared at the fox, astonished.
"How dare..." Voldemort began, furious. Yet his remaining words had to be swallowed as a veritable hell of fire was rained down upon them by the demon, crisping half of his Death Eaters... and Peter Pettigrew, who had been trying to crawl away in the confusion.
"Retreat!" Voldemort screamed, and those who were able to ran, apparating or portkeying away, as flame, now joined by lightning, continued to strike and fry the stragglers. In a moment, the area was empty and quiet, but for one demon fox and one altar-bound sacrifice, and the sound of burning.
"I suppose you are my leftover prize. What shall I do with you?" Altar and boy were swept up by one tail and then the fox was gone, boy and all.
A crack signaled the return of a lone Death Eater, slightly singed. He looked around, wand ready to hand. "Point me Harry Potter!" His wand spun round and round, and he collapsed to his knees. "Oh no..."