Untitled Story

Winter, 1944

Ronny Llewellyn walked carefully through the fog along the well-trodden path. If his parents knew he was out on the moors at this time of night, he would receive the thrashing of a lifetime. But he had to come. The owl had appeared by his window. Sybil needed him.

Sybil was Ronny's secret friend. It was not by his choice, and Sybil said it was not by hers. She told him that her people would not let him know about her. Ronny thought it was a strange thing to say, but when she said it, it seemed to make sense. And now she called for him.

The Owl. Sybil said she would send an owl if ever there were trouble. Again, Ronny thought it was a funny thing to say. But the owl appeared. Ronny felt his secret changing from fanciful to dire. And he swore that he could feel it. Something was on the moors tonight. Something touched with evil.

"It has been confirmed, Master. The young upstart was telling the truth. The Parker brothers are dead."

Grindelwald smiled at the masked wizard kneeling before him. "If that is the case then my letter to him spoke the truth. Josef, do not worry about dispatching the young fool. He has done what he has said. Let the inner circle know. Tom Riddle can have all the fancy names he wants. I will gratefully call him Lord Voldemort if he continues to serve me in this way."

The fog parted before him and Ronny saw his friend. Sybil was standing on the crossroad, where one path met another. But she was dressed strangely, even for her. Instead of the robes she usually wore, she was in her nightdress. And barefoot. She looked as though she were sleepwalking.

"Sybil?"

No answer.

Ronny reached up. He touched her shoulder. Sybil turned. Her eyes were white. Then she spoke in a deep voice.

"Hidden well and hidden deep to see what others miss in sleep to steal from death and death anew the one from whom his death is due."

"Sybil?" Ronny whispered, fear in his voice.

Not far away, a stick cracked from someone stepping on it.

"Quiet, you fool," a harsh voice whispered.

Sybil began to shout.

"HAIL, LORD VOLDEMORT. HAIL BELOVED OF GRINDELWALD. HAIL SCION OF SALAZAR SLYTHERIN."

Ronny quickly slipped under a shrub as two figures approached Sybil. He was half in the bog water but he had no choice. There was no time to run. He had to hide, and to watch.

"And here she is, Julian." It was a young man, sixteen or seventeen.

Julian, older but shorter and with glasses, laughed. "She's seven if I had to guess. And look at her, Tom. Barefoot in this weather."

Tom gave a cruel laugh. "Julian, you are missing the obvious. Look at her eyes. She's in a trance." Tom knelt down and looked at the girl's face, smirking. "I'll wager you, Julian, this is one of the Trelawney brats. And she has the family gift."

Julian looked confused. "Shouldn't we kill her and head on to the house? I don't fancy being out in this weather more than I have to."

"Oh, No, my friend. At least not yet. You heard her. She knew my name. The one I gave myself. The name I told you about only yesterday."

Julian gave a rueful grin. "But Tom, she also called you, what was it, beloved of Grindelwald. I'd be dashed if he ever heard of you. And that rubbish about Salazar Slytherin. Except for being in his house at school, there's no connection. One out of three don't make her a seer in my book. And she was probably lucky at that. I'll bet she can read minds when she's like that. That's how she knew to call you Voldemort."

Tom lowered his head and laughed. "I've never mentioned to anyone, Julian, but I am a parselmouth. Just like Salazar Slytherin. That makes it two out of three."

"It's mind reading," Julian said, but there was doubt in his voice. "Hold. That's an owl, Tom. And in this dank place."

Ronny paused in fright. It was an owl. And it landed on the shrub that he was hiding under. Fearfully, he slipped deeper into the bog until only his head was above the cold water. His hands, growing numb from the cold, held on to a root as his only support.

Julian walked over to the owl and unwrapped the parchment tied around its leg. "It's for you, Tom."

"Really?" Tom asked in a bemused voice. "Read it to me."

Julian unrolled the parchment and gasped. "It from HIM."

"Ah," Tom said easily. "He received my owl. I told him about the Parkers, you know, and I offered my services. Well, read the letter."

Julian cleared his throat.

"To my newest and most beloved follower, Lord Voldemort. That you should offer me a boon as to remove such hated enemies from my path tells me clearly that you and I are of one mind. I see clearly your aims and they are mine. I offer you your life's ambition. Help me to finish my work that our kind may walk freely and without fear. Grindelwald."

Julian looked up. "By the gods, Tom!"

Tom smiled and looked at Sybil again. "And you, little one, speak to me."

"HAIL BELOVED. HAIL BETRAYER. HAIL HE WHO FALLS TO RISE AGAIN. HAIL THE LORD WHOM EVERY WITCH AND WIZARD WILL FEAR."

"And what about me?" Julian dared to ask.

"Power in not thine to seek, but thy son shall not prove meek, he and his shall win such fame that all darkness fears their name."

"What's that? I don't understand."

"It's easy enough," Tom told his friend. "You're a nobody. And you're going to remain a nobody. But should you ever have any children they will be good little boys and girls and ruin all of our plans. Pathetic when you think about it."

"I'll adopt," Julian said casually. "Should we kill the girl now?"

Tom touched the girl's cheek. "She may die soon enough anyway. We may as well head to our homes for the rest of the holidays."

"But we didn't kill anyone yet. Our plan was to kill someone. You promised."

Tom looked at his friend in surprise. He glanced at the girl then drew his wand. "You're right, Julian. SOMEONE must die tonight. And this girl has told us enough." He paused to smile as he pointed his wand. "AVEDA KEDAVRA."

Ronny, numb with cold, would have screamed if he could when Julian's body fell onto the shrub. His head hit Ronny's head, forcing the boy completely under water. As the boy tried to surface, he was pushed down again. The other, Tom, must have pushed the body off the shrub and into the deep bog. Ronny was hit in the head a second time by Julian's feet as the body sank past him.

"He's up there," Ronny thought, and made the effort to hold his breath as long as possible, knowing that he might hold it too long.

Tom Marvolo Riddle smiled as his friend's body disappeared into the bog. Now he would not have to worry about Julian's pesky offspring causing him trouble in the future. As he looked in the bog he smirked. The girl was right again. He had betrayed his friend. And who knew who else he would betray in the future. Tom looked at Sybil and smiled. He would let the girl live. She might be useful in the future. With a satisfied sigh, he apparated.

One second later, Ronny brought his head up and gasped for air. Then he gasped again. He was so cold he could not breathe properly. He tried to pull himself out of the bog but his hands couldn't work. He tried to call but no sound came out except the rasp for another breath.

But someone heard. Someone had come to look for Sybil and found her. And they heard him. Ronny gasped again as he was suddenly pulled from the water by unseen hands. A man, Sybil's father he would find out, took off his cloak and wrapped it around the shivering boy. A vial was put to his lips and he drank greedily. As if by magic, Ronny could breathe again. And he felt warm and sleepy. So sleepy . . .

Early June, 1945

Grindelwald smiled when he heard the reply to his summons. The self-styled Lord Voldemort would come to him. The boy was brash, yet eager and thorough. Definitely not someone of soft heart.

"Master," the masked wizard called as he entered the room.

"Ah, Josef, you received my message."

"I came at once. Is it true, Lord, that our muggle puppet has fallen?"

"It is no matter. He did what was needed. The muggle world will be too weak once we are in control. I have talked to our English friend. He was eager to come. And I told him why."

"Is that wise, Lord? Once you name him your heir he may seek his inheritance earlier than it should naturally come."

Grindelwald laughed. "And if he does, what will you do?"

Josef grinned. "He will live a long and painful life. At the least, a painful one."

"And he will know this. He has shown great loyalty from afar, but he will learn quickly to show loyalty face to face." Grindelwald paused. "He is the one, Josef. I know this. He is powerful, and at such a young age. He will be a most appropriate heir."

Tom Marvolo Riddle looked into the mirror and smiled. Everything he wanted was at hand. He smiled again at his reflection.

"It will soon be time, Nagini. Only a few more days."

"Very few," replied the woman in the mirror who was Tom's reflection. "Tom, you are a fool if you carry through with your plans."

Tom laughed. "How can you say that? With only a few deaths to my name, I have convinced Grindelwald that I am the future."

Nagini shook her head. "I told you, Tom. Watch what the muggles are doing. Your precious Grindelwald was the one manipulating their leader. And he has already fallen. To stronger adversaries who still have their strength. You are the future, Tom, but he is the past. He is already the past."

Tom looked aghast. "What would you have me do? I can't turn down his offer. I've already acknowledged that I would be there."

Nagini smiled. "Then don't go. But send someone in your place. Someone who will show him how weak he really is."

Tom was curious. "Who would you send?"

"It's already been arranged, my love. I took care of the matter while you slept. Your entourage will greet Grindelwald with appropriate style. And best of all, they will not even know that they are your representatives. I have sent a special letter to Armando Dippet."

Tom Riddle faltered. "But . . . what will I do. Dumbledore already suspects me. If . . ."

"NO IFS" Nagini yelled at him. "It is time for us to leave here anyway. We will find our own future. And in time we will call together our own followers, loyal only to us. Remember the prophecy. You will fall, only to rise stronger than before."

Tom nodded. "I will trust you in this. I will accept this and be made stronger by it."

Late June, 1945

"Albus?" Headmaster Dippet's question showed great concern and care for his friend. "The news is everywhere. But how are you?"

Albus Dumbledore gratefully took the seat he was offered. "I am fine. I was not hurt in any way. But I am confused, Armando."

"And why is that," Dippet asked as he conjured a pot of tea and a pair of cups. "Did something unusual happen?"

"Yes, and no," Albus said as he took the proffered cup. "We found Grindelwald and his henchmen exactly when and where our spy said they would be. It was obvious that they were waiting for someone."

Dippet nodded. "Perhaps it was his spy. The one who killed the Parkers."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "It is possible. That spy had to be skillful to kill both brothers."

Neither man said anything more. The Parker brothers were skilled Aurors of the highest caliber. It was known that they were killed but few people outside of the Minister's office knew how. They were not killed by magic, but by muggle means. Their bodies were mutilated. But the most horrible part of the story was that James, the older brother, had recently married. His bride had been with him that day but her body was never found.

"There was one other thing," Albus said after he dismissed those fleeting thoughts. "There was a guard on watch. Very well concealed. He could easily see us long before we would be able to spot him. We found him afterward, dead. He died from a snake bite. A venomous snake."

Armando Dippet nodded as he listened. "Our spy must have been a parselmouth." The sentence was said with no intonation.

"Then you see what I am suggesting."

"Yes. That our spy may have been their spy. And he decided that theirs was not the winning side." Dippet looked Albus squarely in the eyes. "I think we should call Riddle to my office. He has had some interesting absences but he always gave good excuses. At least, before today, they seemed good. And he is a parselmouth."

"Don't bother," Albus told him. "I met his head of house when I came in. Tom Riddle decided that, since his N.E.W.T.s were finished he would not bother to wait for his final grades. He has already left the school."

Armando Dippet looked more stern than he every had. "Albus, I am already well past my prime. It will fall to you to keep this watch. Your eyes and ears must be open at all times. You have defeated one Dark Lord but it is clear that another one is hiding in his wake. I fear you will have this same task again at a future date."

Albus replied softly. "I fear you are right, Armando. I fear that you are right."

March, 1959

Harold William Potter couldn't explain it. It was his major vice. He loved crawling through caves. There were several large caves where he grew up and he spent most of his childhood wandering through their dark interiors with only a simple light spell to see by.

The cave he had discovered did not promise to be big, but it promised to be untouched. It was difficult to reach by muggle means, and not even visible from the ground. Even from the air, on a broomstick, it could barely be seen. Harry decided it was worth taking a look.

Harry did not have to hurry. He had no one waiting for him at home. At twenty-eight he was still a handsome bachelor, but no woman ever touched his heart. He expected to remain single for a very long time. And he planned on enjoying himself.

"Lumos," he called out as he entered the cave. It had a moderate sized entrance, five feet high by three feet wide, but quickly enlarged as he went in. It was a long corridor, almost eight feet high in places, and nearly six feet across. There was a bend some thirty feet ahead.

Harry was disappointed. There were signs that others had been here before him, although none recently. He decided to explore anyway. He reached the bend, and stopped in surprise. This had been someone's home. Someone capable of magic. Ahead of him was a large room. And it was a room. The rock walls were flat, as was the ceiling, but the stone had not been cut away. Someone had used magic to make this room. And an odd room it was.

A large bed, old and rotting, stood in an alcove. The nearer part of the room was the living area with once-comfortable furniture placed about. And the furthest part seemed to have been a work area. For a sculptor. Harry walked past the old furniture to see more clearly.

There were five statues. At least at one time there were. Four had been smashed and lay in rubble on the floor. The fifth was still intact. And it was an amazing statue. A woman, nude, comely to look at, but with an expression of fear and horror.

But there was an old thing about her. Clothes had been draped on the statue then torn to shreds to reveal her nudity. There was even a ring placed on one of the fingers of the left hand. Harry cast a curious glance at the other statues and noticed bits of clothing mixed in with the remnant pieces. One of the pieces was of an arm. This one had a bracelet around the wrist.

Curious, he picked the piece up and examined it more closely. The bracelet was real, and made of gold links. It was pretty, but seemed out of place.

Looking at the arm, which ended just past the elbow, Harry admired the craftsmanship. The sculptor took the efforts to show every detail. The artist obviously sculpted with magic. Even when he looked at the stump of the arm, he could make out bones and blood vessels . . .

Harry dropped the arm with a shock. It was not from a statue of a woman. It was from a woman. The shock had turned to disgust as he understood what he was looking at. The four statues were once women, petrified and then smashed. He looked at the fifth woman in understanding. The wizard was not an artist. He was a madman. The look of fear and horror was because the woman knew what was to become of her. But the statue was still in one piece.

The woman's clothes told him the rest of the story. They were her clothes, torn from her while she was still breathing. The madman clearly had his way with her before he petrified her. And she was still in one piece because he had not tired with her. Yet.

But the madman had left. And not come back. And the statue sat in the cave.

Harry cast a spell. The statue lifted easily and was carried away. He cast another spell, forcing the cave to collapse. Then he took the statue to his house. The last thing he wanted was to remove the spell while this woman was still surrounded by the victims who came before her.

Christmas, 1959

The baby nestled sleeping in his crib as the fawning parents looked on. With them was a not unexpected visitor. Albus Dumbledore.

"Have you named him, my dear?" Albus asked politely.

She looked at her husband of six months. "We named him James. After my first husband."

No one said what they all knew. Harry had explained to Dumbledore everything he had found out about his wife's captor. The man had disappeared, probably dead in some unmarked grave. But Harry and his new bride would take a safe course. They would lead a private life. Harry did not need to tell Albus that, after her experiences, his wife would want that anyway.

And there was the one thing that each of them knew. The baby looked very much like his father, and that man was neither James Parker or Harold Potter.

"I don't know what drove that man, Harry," she told him one day, shortly after the baby was born, "but I will give my son the one thing that I know his father never had. He will always have love."