Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its subsequent universe. All recognisable characters, settings and plots belong to J. K. Rowling.

Acknowledgements: Thank you to my team of Betas and Editors: AJAVENGER01, JT, Ares Alexander Peverell, Avidnarutofan, Tendrael Umbra

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Harry Potter and the Trials of Twilight

BY: ArtyWords

Book 1:The Premature Arrival

Prologue: False Positive

Blurb

One year is a long headstart,

One year is exactly what Harry Potter received. Attending Hogwarts a year earlier than anyone could have anticipated. Surrounded by family members and friends who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, and with pressure bearing down on him; Harry struggles to bear the weight of his family legacy— struggles to accept that he has been condemned to live a life that wasn't the one he'd been born into.. All while trying to find his place in this new world.

Harry has known for quite awhile that nothing is as simple as it seems, but here in this world where magic is more than just smoke and mirrors the only thing that is clear is that he is out of his depth.

but what good will it do when compared to the decade of time the opposition have had to themselves.

October 31, 1981

Longbottom Manor

11:49 pm

She slowly lost herself in the sounds of the room as she gently rocked in her rocking chair; from the steady ticking of the clock nearing midnight, to the soft breaths of her grandson in his crib. She found solace in the familiarity of it all, the steady anchor it provided in these unpredictable times. Her thoughts drifted to the chaos and strife that had burdened Britain as she carefully knit her grandson's hat. It was a hobby she had taken to decades ago — hand-knitting was just another one of those things she took solace in.

The moment was shattered by the sharp, piercing wails of her grandson. She picked him up and held him as she rocked back and forth, humming a lullaby under her breath. She walked into the living room to find her husband with his nose buried in yet another obscure Herbology book. He was reclined in the old, lumpy armchair by the fireplace — his favourite place to read. She made her way to a large window overlooking the manor's gardens.

"Francis?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he replied, engrossed with his book.

"When do you think they'll return?"

"Soon, Augusta," he sighed. Shooting her a worried glance, he rubbed his face tiredly. "You need to relax dear, everythi-"

"Can't you feel it?" Augusta inquired sharply. Can't you? Because I can. Something is happening, something big."

"You know as well as I do that feeling is just the magic of today. The dead are restless and so are you. There is nothing to worry about." Francis said, wrapping both her and Neville in a comforting hug as he rose from his armchair.

"Unfortunately, Lord Longbottom, there is something to worry about," A voice interrupted, making their presence known. The voice sounded cold and amused — mocking even, about the present situation.

Twisting sharply, Francis spun himself between Augusta and the intruder. A figure stepped forward slowly melting away from the shadows — the ones that seemed to have seeped into the room with her dark aura.

"Me." her red eyes gleamed in the half-light and the comforting crackle of the fireplace ceased as sending the room into near total darkness with a negligent flick of her wand.

"Voldemort," Francis growled, his wand slipping into his now-clammy fingertips.

"I hope you don't mind but I let myself in." She glanced around the room. "I just lovewhat you two have done with the place," she paused. "It's very inviting."

"Enough games, Voldemort," Francis snapped. "What do you want?"

"There it is, Francis, there's your Gryffindor spirit." She cooed gleefully, her hands clapping in mock-joy. "So daring, so brave, always so ready for a fight, and always so impatient."

Francis' only response was an angry growl, his fingers tightening into a white-knuckled grip around his wand.

"And it's Lady Voldemort, Francis," she added absentmindedly. "Do keep your manners about you. After all, without them, we are no better than the animals and muggles."

"Enough!" Francis barked, banishing all the furniture towards the Dark Lady. "Take Neville and hide!" he pushed Augusta towards the stairs before turning back.

He stared at the unmoving pile of broken furniture. A short bark of disbelieving laughter escaped him; was this really all it took to defeat the Dark Lady?

"Care to share the joke with the rest of class?" She whispered in his ear.

He turned around, wide-eyed, firing several dark cutting curses in her general direction. But she wasn't there. Taking a deep breath, he observed the room with narrow eyes.

"I'm disappointed." He spun around several blood-boiling curses flying from his wand.

"I expected more." Her voice was so close like she was right behind him. This time, acid sprayed from his wand as he spun around.

This time he saw her, her wand nowhere to be seen. He smiled, her arrogance would be her death or so he thought. The wave of acid was inches from hitting her.

Blink.

His eyes widened in horror. She was gone, the acid eating at the pile of broken furniture that had been behind her. He spun around frantically, trying to find her, haphazardly launching lethal spells in desperation. He froze when he felt her breath tickling the back of his neck.

"My turn" she breathed.

He was launched across the room, hitting a wall above the fireplace with a resounding smack! He fell from the wall and landed on his lumpy old armchair — the one piece of furniture he couldn't bring himself to banish — his wand clattering on the floor a few feet away. Fear gripped him when he realized he couldn't move anything below his neck. Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths and managed to get a hold of his emotions. He cursed himself. He had made so many amateur mistakes and now he was stuck, trapped at the mercy of the Dark Lady.

His breath hitched when he felt her straddle his lap. He opened his eyes and met her red ones that seemed to twinkle with sadistic amusement. She brought one hand up to his face and gently caressed it as he tried in vain to lean away from her and escape. The other hand removed the bottom half of her serpentine mask, revealing blood-red lips curled in a sharp smile.

"You got old, Francis," she cupped his face with both hands. "Maybe it's just me, but you haven't aged gracefully have you?"

"Why are you doing this?" He demanded.

She gave no response as she continued to caress his face, ignoring his question, lost in her own little world.

"Where do you get off on this you sick freak!?" he sneered. He smiled in triumph when her hands froze and the small smile slipped from her face.

He winced as she dug her nails into his face. Her red eyes now blazed with fire as her aura pressed down on him, all his instincts screaming that he pushed too far. He suppressed them and continued to sneer.

"Freak," her voice was low and cold. "How about now?"

She removed the rest of her mask. The moonlight illuminated her angelic features. He took it all in, her youthful features brought up a distant memory from long ago.

"Do you remember now? Of course you don't. Let me jog your memory. Do you remember that young girl, the one in Slytherin. The one you and your band of merry miscreants enjoyed molesting in the broom closets around Hogwarts. Do you remember me now?!"

Her sharp nails dug further in with each passing sentence, causing rivulets of blood to ooze around her finger The crimson fluid ran clear on his pale and clammy face. Her sharp smile returned as she relished in fear rolling off him as he remembered.

"Ah! So you do. Come, Francis, I want to hear you say it. Say my name." she sneered as she pressed her body further onto his own.

"R-Rid-Riddle."

"Yes… Me" she breathed hotly in his ear as she pressed herself even further against his body. "You know you're the last one. I killed the rest of your friends, and I loved every second of it…"

He couldn't stop the soft whimpers that escaped his lips as she rocked back and forth on his lap. His face twisted as she licked the stray tears off his face.

"P-Plea-Please stop just stop!" he begged.

"What is it you once told me?" she tapped her chin thoughtfully, before sneering "Don't beg. It won't change a thing... Don't beg, it won't stop this from happening... Or was it? Fight, Beg, Resist, I want to see the fire leave your eyes when you realise how hopeless it is," she emphasized each statement by grinding down hard after each one. "What's the matter, Francis? I'm confused. Isn't this what you wanted all those years ago?"

She paused when she felt his body tense up and shiver. For a moment she was confused before it dawned on her. When it did the sounds of her cruel laughter echoed throughout the manor.

"Tell me, does Augusta know she married such a depraved man?"

"Monster mo-monster you're a monster."

"Monster," she scoffed. "The only one getting off on this is you. If anyone is a monster, it is you."

She slid off of him and stood up, shivering in revulsion as she looked down at him, waving her hand across her body to remove as much of his taint as she could from her person. She bent down and grasped his chin, lifting his head. She pulled him into a deep kiss, enjoying the way he whimpered in pain when her canines drew blood. After a couple of seconds, she pulled back, vanishing the fluids from her mouth with another wave of her hand.

"Not exactly the heart-stopping farewell kiss I was hoping for," she pouted. "Bye Bye Francis." she finished in a singsong voice.

With that, Lady Voldemort turned around and made her way up the stairs to find the other two Longbottoms. At the first step, she released the myriad of spells she used to hold him down. He immediately dove to the ground, picking up his wand and pointing it at her.

"Avada Ke-"

He never finished the spells as the wand slipped from his spasming hand. In horror, he fell on his back clutching his chest, blood spraying from his mouth with each choked breath. She took a moment, stopping at the last step, smiling as the house grew quiet once again.

'That might work.' Augusta thought as she paced back and forth in the nursery.

Her usually well-kempt appearance was gone. Her hair was plastered to her sweaty face, her robes ruffled as paced back and forth frantically. Nothing had worked, neither her attempts to use various portkeys nor her attempt to apparate, when she had rushed into the nursery with her grandson a few minutes ago, barricading the door and warding it as best as she could.

She had placed Neville in his crib, drawing a silencing ward around it so he wouldn't wake up. She had barely finished sending a Patronus for help when the laughter of The Dark Lady echoed throughout the manor, sending chills up her spine. A tear slipped down her face as she thought about her loving and caring husband. Her now-deceased husband.

Boom!

The entrance to the nursery blew apart in a loud explosion caused by the wards imploding. The physical shockwave caused the materials she had transfigured to crumble. The magical shockwave caused the silence ward to collapse as well. Both waves threw her into the wall beside the crib with a loud smack, waking up her grandson who began to cry. The wails quickly disappeared as The Dark Lady flicked a finger in his direction, causing his mouth to seal shut.

"Augusta," she gasped mockingly. "What are you doing on the floor? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

From her spot on the floor, she watched as the smoke cleared allowing her a good look at The Dark Lady's face.

"Riddle." She breathed.

"Yay!" she clapped her hands. "You remembered! Your husband, on the other hand, was so forgetful."

"What did you do to him?" she demanded rising to her feet.

"I gave everything he ever wanted from me." she lent forward, whispering like she was sharing a big secret. "And when I was done, I stole a kiss from him… it was absolutely amazing. I dare say it left him breathless."

Augusta's face flushed as her eyes narrowed, her wand hand trembling. She defiantly stepped in front of the crib.

"How did you find us? How did you find out about Neville?" she asked.

"You wouldn't believe-"

"TELL ME!"

Her face once again twisted into a sharp smile. "Your brother told me."

"LIAR!"

"Why should I lie? Hasn't Dumbledore ever told you?" she sneered as she spoke the name. "The truth can be a terrible thing. The truth, Augusta is that I didn't force it out of him. He came running to me, like a dog to its master. He threw himself at my feet and in exchange for a seat at my table, he told me about the birth of your grandson.

When that sherry drinking swine proclaimed the prophecy your precious headmaster is betting this war on. It was your brother who told me what you told him, that the Order of the Phoenix believes your grandson is the one. It was your brother who told me how to get into this house. Now, do me a favour and step aside so I can kill all of Dumbledore's hopes and dreams."

"No, just because my brother is a traitor doesn't mean I am." She raised her wand.

Riddle looked at her for a moment, her lips twitching in amusement.

"Alright, let's do it your way."

As Riddle took a stance, Augusta waved her wand, forming a spell chain. The bolts of light racing through the air towards the space Riddle had stood. A spell to the back forced her onto her knees.

"Metamórfosssiii." The Dark Lady hissed.

The room was filled with gory noises of the human body breaking itself apart. Augusta screamed in agony as her body was twisted and contorted into gruesome positions, each worse from the last, her bones breaking over and over and over again, her muscles ripping and tearing her sinews and tendons to shreds as she spasmed erratically on the floor.

Through the pain, she could see Voldemort holding Neville in her arms forcing him to watch. She glared defiantly up at her. It was the last thing she saw before her neck snapped.

"Looks like it's just you and me now," she giggled, turning her attention to the terrified boy, not that she noticed. The baby was still staring dumbly at the broken and bloody form that was once his grandmother. "I don't know what Dumbledore sees in you."

She extended her aura, wrapping the child in it. Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary, he felt exceedingly... normal.

"Looks like I was right to place my bet on your competition," she spoke aloud, more to herself than to the baby she had just placed back in the crib.

An ethereal bear flew through the wall and floated above Augusta's still warm body.

"HELP! Black is attacking us."

She sighed, pointing her wand at the child's forehead.

11:59 pm

"Avada Kedavra."

A jet of green light launched from her wand, screaming as it raced towards the boy. A second later, before she could leave, she felt pain, indescribable pain she had only felt a few times before. Through the haze, she managed to realize the spell had rebounded and hit her instead. The agony of feeling herself ripped from her body caused her to release a scream that shattered the nearby windows and glass.

She hovered in space for a moment before her wraith-like form surrounded the now unconscious child. It was then, at the edge of life and death, at that moment where she felt no pain, that she felt the magic around the child.

"Well played Augusta, well played."

Around her, she could feel the anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards, both the ones for the manor and her own, collapsing. It was immediately followed by cracks, signalling the arrival of several wixen.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, she managed to push through the resurging pain, flying out the window. She needed to recover. The grief-ridden screams she heard from the manor as she rushed across the property made the disaster tonight turned into a little easier to handle.

All that was left behind of The Dark Lady who called Voldemort was a serpentine-themed mask, a pair of dead bodies, a pale wand and a baby boy with a V-shaped scar on his temple crying in the embrace of grief-stricken parents.

A few moments later...

Crack! The sound of displaced air snapping back into place echoed in the alley as Peter Pettigrew appeared in Godric's Hollow. Erring on the side of caution, he transformed into Wormtail, a mottled grey-brown rat. He scurried out of the alley and towards the villa that belonged to James Potter, one of his best friends. It also happened to be the last known location of another best friend, Sirius Black, and his other associates.

It had been hours since their last conversation and Sirius had missed the last check-in. As Peter crested the hill, the villa that greeted him looked nothing like it was supposed to. The usually picturesque villa was in ruins. The entire property looked like a warzone. He could feel the heat from the random fires that had yet to be put out. His eyes watered from both the smoke and acid fumes in the air. He gagged at the smell of burning flesh from all the bodies as he followed the trails up towards the house.

From what he could see, the front of the house was inaccessible so he made his way towards the back, which was in much better shape. That was extremely relative, though, given that most of the walls and windows were either missing or melted.

In a nearby shadow, he turned back into Peter. As he approached the door, he flashed his credentials, the ones that identified him as a DMLE Detective, and the Aurors guarding the door let him pass. The inside of the house fared no better than the outside, with collapsed walls and ceilings, and trinkets scattered all over the floor. He manoeuvred around it all as he went deeper and deeper into the house. Some of the people here were busy cataloguing evidence, trying to piece together what happened. The rest scavenged the ruins for survivors.

"Merlin have mercy!"

The exclamation drew the attention of not only him but everyone around him as well. They rushed by the only stable set of stairs in the house towards the front of the house. What greeted them was horrific bodies laid scattered around the room. All except three of them were clad in either dove-themed masks or whitish Death Eater masks. Oddly enough, each appeared to have been clutching their left forearm. So far, he had counted around twenty dead bodies and nine unconscious ones.

'Merlin!' Peter thought 'What kind of shitshow had Sirius run here?'

On the wall in front of them were three bodies. Even though the bodies had been defiled it was clear which people the bodies had once been. Fleamont Potter, Euphemia Potter, and Charlus Potter were easy to identify. One of the Aurors, a newbie by the looks of it, took several pictures before the rest of them snapped out of their dazes.

Once again, their attention was garnered by the rapidly escalating argument happening outside. By the looks of it, the Auror was in a very heated debate with a bunch of cloaked figures.

'Unspeakables' he realised.

It was clear from her slumped posture that she lost. She stopped a few feet in front of them, taking a deep breath while pinching the bridge of her nose. She pointed her wand at her throat.

"By order of Minister Bagnold and Bartimeus Crouch, this site is now under the immediate control of the DOM. Drop everything, all the evidence, all the bodies, all of it and leave."

Before they could so much as protest, the abnormally large group of Unspeakables — Peter had never seen so many in one place — had ushered them all to the ward line, leaving only Junior Auror Bones behind. Sighing, Peter decided to take a walk. The night had started off normally.

He had bid Sirius good luck on his mission and spent the rest of the night discussing business with Raika. In the middle of that discussion, Jason Pyrite, their resident budding alchemist, came stumbling out of the floo.

Jason had barely made it onto his feet when he had fallen back to the ground, screaming in pain as he clutched his left forearm. Having no idea what they were supposed to do, they watched helplessly as he writhed on the ground in pain. It had stopped as quickly as it had come.

They stared in horror when Jason pulled back his sleeve to reveal his tattoos. Both of them; the smaller of the two was supposed to be the intricate skeleton of a dove dripping blood, which was now faded. The bigger of the two and more important one was the dark mark, or had been the dark mark. The once intricate and vivid black skull and snake tattoo was now a simple, faded, pale grey skull. None of them had understood what it meant. Which was why, after failing to get a response from Sirius, he had rushed to Godric's Hollow for answers.

That had turned out to be the wrong place to go as it only left him with more questions than answers. Had Sirius completed his mission? Were they all dead? What in Merlin's name happened to The Dark Lady? While a barely above-average wizard, Peter understood that the dark mark was so intrinsically tied to The Dark Lady that something had to have happened to her given its current state.

'But what?'

He had reached the alley he arrived in but before he could apparate, it was lit up by a bright ethereal cow.

"Saint Mungo's, Ward 49." The cow announced before fading out of existence.

He recognized Alice's voice and Patronus, though he was confused about why she was at Saint Mungo's until it dawned on him what else was supposed to have happened tonight.

'At least I can get some answers before I go to sleep.' he thought.

November 1, 1981

St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Several minutes to 1 am

Crack! Peter arrived outside of the hospital as the night sky above him and finally started to brighten. He made his way through the main waiting area towards the receptionists' desks. He weaved his way through the crowded room. It was full of witches and wizards sat upon rows of rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly and The Daily Prophet, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or holding detached body parts in bags. The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises. Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards and calling out for their next patient. They had the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

Nobody paid Peter any attention as scurried his way to the large desk that dominated the room. After thanking the receptionist for directions, he quickly made his way to the private waiting area outside the Janus Thickey Ward.

He was greeted by a rare sight, Frank Longbottom was openly crying on his wife's shoulder; his strong bulky frame looked rather fragile as it was racked with sobs.

'Odd, I can't hear his sobs' he thought

The sounds of said sobs didn't reach him until he was about a couple of feet away.

'Silencing Ward.'

He sat down in the open spot beside Alice. She too was a mess. Her hair looked like a rat's nest, her eyes red and face blotchy. She tried to give him a weak smile which turned out to be more of a grimace in the end. Before he could ask her what happened, the doors to the ward swung open, revealing Albus Dumbledore. He looked all one-hundred years of his age, slumped shoulders and the ever-present twinkle missing from his eyes. His appearance did nothing to alleviate the growing worries they had.

"Hello Peter, I didn't expect to see you here," Albus asked upon noticing him.

"I thought it would help if Frank had a friend," Alice was the one who answered though she also seemed distracted. "I thought Frank could use some friends, the rest haven't arrived yet."

'Yet, Alice? Try never.' Peter mused smugly.

"Albus, What happened?" Frank asked, sitting up taking the glass of water Alice offered him to soothe his throat.

"A lot, my boy, a lot." He sighed

Peter had never heard the headmaster sound so subdued.

The headmaster twirled his wand bringing a rather plushy purple armchair with bright yellow stars into existence which he promptly collapsed into, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

Peter had always been proud of his ability to control his reactions. It had gotten even better after he learned occlumency on his way to becoming an animagus. It took all his skill to stop his jaw from dropping when Dumbledore spoke.

"She is gone."

Peter's mind reeled at the news; that very simple statement had answered most of his questions. A name wasn't necessary, for Dumbledore could only be referring to one person.

"She's dead?" Alice murmured in disbelief.

"No, not dead." Albus paused for a moment trying to find a way to describe the situation. "Perhaps vanquished is a more apt description, I believe that she is weak, I believe that she is now in hiding. But as much as I wish it wasn't so, Voldemort is not dead. She is merely biding her time."

Peter flinched at the mention of You-Know-Who's name. Old habits died hard.

"Do you have any idea what happened tonight?" Peter pressed.

"I have plenty of ideas Peter. Most are nothing short of fantastical, though a few are more plausible. Although, until I am sure, I will keep them to myself. Now would be a most inopportune time to have fanciful rumours spread about." he answered.

Little else was spoken, the only relevant thing he caught was the Order of The Phoenix meeting happening this evening.

"What were you doing in there Albus?" Peter interrupted.

Albus was silent for a moment as he thought back to what he had seen within the ward just beside him. He had been surprised by what- well who was more accurate, he found in there.

"I had come to conduct my own consultation on Neville, I never got to. I encountered the most delightful surprise. Tell me Peter, did you know James and Lily had a son?" The headmaster's eyes twinkled madly.

"No, I did not." Peter answered honestly, Frank and Alice looked just as surprised as him.

Looking back it shouldn't have been surprising, given that about three years ago Lily had all but disappeared from the public's eyes, with James following suit almost a year later. That timeframe was ideal to have a child in secret. After all, most Lords and Ladies had also disappeared from the public's eye as well.

"According to his stuffed dragon, his name is Harry Potter."

"What's going to happen to him?" Alice asked.

"I'll be sending him to Petunia, Lily's sis-"

"Petunia!?" Alice screeched. "But Lily said she hates us. Why send him there?"

"Where else can we send him?" Peter snapped. This night just refused to end, and the frustration was catching up with him. He could see why Dumbledore wanted to send the boy to his Aunt.

"We can't keep him in the Magical World. Petunia is the only person alive with a stronger blood connection than his grandmother's house. Do you want him to be raised by a member of House Black? By someone like Bellatrix?" he finished breathing heavily.

"I'm still not sure..." Alice pressed.

"How about this, Alice," Dumbledore offered. "You can take him when he is twelve, a year before he goes to Hogwarts. I will place the wards around the house myself."

Reluctantly, she agreed.

No. 4 Privet Drive

An hour or three to Sunrise

Albus wiped the sweat off his brow. He had spent the last few hours casting the best possible wards he could manage under the circumstances. There were so many wards he had been unable to cast, lest he garner the attention of the ministry, in which case all this work was for naught. He went to the next item on his mental checklist. The letter for Petunia, Check. All he had to do now was wait for Hagrid to arrive with Harry and he could tie the wards together with his blood; he had already tied them to Petunia's. Sneaking into the house to do so had proved a trivial task.

The sound of Hagrid arriving on the gigantic motorbike, the one Sirius had left in the half-giant's care a few years back, drew his attention. He was surprised nobody woke up to check on the commotion, but grateful all the same. It made this easier. A few minutes and several complex runic sequences later, he was done.

He took the cradle from Hagrid and placed it along with the letter on the ground in front of the front door. He cast a silencing charm on the motorcycle before Hagrid took off. He couldn't risk anyone waking up. With a soft snap, Albus Dumbledore left Privet Drive behind.

Peter Pettigrew's Home

7:21 am

He had watched through the window of his office as the Sun rose. Sunrise meant the start of a new day. Sunrises represented new beginnings. He hoped that was true. In the last twelve or so hours, everything had fallen apart. The Dark Lady was gone. That mangy mutt had failed to take care of the Potters as he had promised. The Aurors and Hit-Wixen teams had held nothing back conducting a series of raids arresting everyone who bore The Dark Mark. It was easy, given the fact most of them had been incapacitated by the pain that emanated from it.

It was no wonder he was drunk so early in the day. Peter knocked back yet another glass of FireWhiskey as he assured himself that of all the hairbrained plans he had for both the Potter brat and The Boy-Who-Lived, Neville freakin Longbottom, he could make something out of yesternight's events. Despite the headmaster's best attempt to suppress the rumours, he had failed to account for just how much damage a drunken Hagrid could cause. Within the hour, all of Britannia had heard the story of how the Longbottom heir had not only survived, but reflected a killing curse shot at him by She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killing her in the process. He couldn't wait to see the tripe written about it in the morning paper.

Knock!

Knock!

Knock!

He wasn't meeting anyone until later today in the evening. Nobody knew where he actually lived. They never asked and he never told them. That fact should have put him on edge. Unfortunately, in his drunken state, the wrongness of the situation never really registered. It was more of a soft whisper than a screaming warning in his mind, one he could easily ignore. So, without bothering to check who was behind the door, he threw it wide open.

"Wormtail,"

The figure had on a blood-stained cloak and was breathing heavily as he leaned against the door frame. He looked up and Peter backed away in fear, falling to the ground in a drunken heap as he took in his face. Black hair that fell to his shoulders framing an aristocratic face. But it was the gleaming grey eyes that had scared him.

"We need to talk."

Thanks For Reading

Don't forget to review.

Next Chapter - August 9, 2021

Author's Note

Works and Authors that influenced this one:

Limpieza de Sangre - The Endless 7

Ashes of Chaos - ACI100

The Prince of Slytherin - The Sinister Man

Sarcasm & Slytherin - anonymousmagpie (formerly Sunmoonandstars)

The Mind Arts - Wu Gang

Departure From the Diary & Unseen Perspective - TendraelUmbra

Harry Potter and the International Triwizard Tournament - Salient91

A Year Too Soon - NHunter

Edit Logs:

August 17, 2021 - Edits Primiarliy to improve grammar and punctuation to improve the flow of writing.