by Katie Davidson
Mr. Danen slammed his fist against the table, leaned down on it, and almost cried saying, "It can't be! Not Elora! Anything but Elora."
"Dennis," Mrs. Danen said in a calm voice.
Mr. Danen turned as his wife came up to him and they embraced, she cried even more now, she heard what had happened. "Sherri," Mr. Danen said, trying to calm his wife. "She's just under a Dark spell, remember that, just a strong, Dark Arts spell."
"What I can't understand is why she changed?" Cecil asked, he sat next to Bob and Demine kept looking him over, blushing every time he looked at her.
"I thought you knew everything Cecil," Harry snickered.
"Give me a break Harry," Cecil growled, "The Dark Arts is something way out of my bounds. The only person who would really know about this stuff is someone like Voldemort."
"What about a teacher?" the sniffling voice of Mrs. Danen suggested.
"Professor Lupin, or even," Harry shuttered, "Snape."
"It could work," Meguil said, "Let's send note to them immediately."
Mr. Danen and Harry started writing notes to Professor Lupin and Snape, and even to Dumbledore just in case. They sent the parchments off with Angel (Elora's owl), Hedwig (Harry's owl), and Mercucious (Bob's owl). They sent them off into the valley, where the sun was setting beyond the hills. "How long do you think it'll be before we get a reply?" Mrs. Danen asked.
Mr. Danen held her close saying, "Depending on where they are, Sherri, it may take a couple days."
Elora, with Ahren at her side, walked up the stone staircase to their rooms. "Father," Elora asked, "Who were those two men?"
"No one who should interfere again." Ahren replied.
"It's just," Elora moaned slightly, "They seemed familiar to me in a way."
They stopped at Elora's bedroom, and Ahren took her lightly by both arms, and kissed her on the forehead. "Don't worry about them, my dear. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day."
Elora smiled, opening the door to her room (which had changed from the one she knew at home to a stone walled, dark and dismal room) and said, "Good night, Father."
"Sweet dreams," Ahren said, as Elora closed the door.
"Ahren," a silent, deep, echoing voice came from down the staircase. Ahren walked down the stairs and into the gym. In the center of the gym a stone lion sat, it's mouth moved to every word it said, "Will the girl be ready tomorrow?"
Ahren knelt down on one knee and bowed his head to the lion, "Yes, my lord. She has already turned and tomorrow you will meet her."
The lion roared, "She will die, Ahren."
Ahren lifted his head and stood up, shouting, "We did not agree to that!"
The lion roared again, "We will not tolerate that sort of tone."
"We?" Ahren said, "Who is we?"
From behind the lion, a pale faced dark haired, black cloaked man appeared. He cackled loudly, though there was no expression on his face, "You didn't think you could do it alone, did you Ahren?"
Ahren growled, "Voldemort."
"Yes!" Voldemort exclaimed. "You have done something I failed to do a while ago. I thank you for it. I still need you, Ahren."
"And why would the great Dark lord Voldemort need a petty Dark Arts master like me?"
"Because the girl thinks you are her father, Ahren. She will do anything you ask her to," Voldemort replied. "Tomorrow, take her to The Realm as planned. It will come together after that." He thought for a moment, "Where is the girl now?"
Ahren sneered, "In her room sleeping."
Voldemort stepped forward, "I think I'll pay her a little visit."
Ahren stopped him, grasping his arm tightly he snarled, "Don't hurt her."
Voldemort gave a short grin and pulled away from him saying, "Not until tomorrow." He walked out of the gym and up the stairs to Elora's room. He opened to door and entered quietly.
Elora lay fast asleep on the bed near the window. The light from the hall cast Voldemort's shadow on the wall and it disappeared when he closed the door. The only light that lit the room was from the moonlight. Voldemort walked over to her dresser. The Dark Arts Daggers lay in a row and their dark handles glistened in the moonlight. He growled silently, "What if I were to kill her now, with the daggers?"
Elora, still asleep, moved under the sheets of the bed. Voldemort turned his head to her and he grabbed one of the daggers then walked over to her. The moonlight cast a slow shadow over Elora as he neared the bed; he sat on the edge of the bed, dagger in his hand, and ran the blade over her arm up to her neck. "To do it now, would it make the difference?"
"Not on your life," a whisper came from the shadows, and Voldemort found his arms behind his back, the dagger gone from his hand, and its cold metal blade against his neck.
Elora had him in that position on the bed when Ahren burst into her room shouting, "Are you all right?"
"Oh yeah," Elora said, tightening her grip on Voldemort. "Who's this weasel?"
Ahren lit the torches in Elora's room and laughed, "He is Voldemort, my dear."
Elora let him go, in shock of whom it was she held saying, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know... I mean,"
"Quite all right," Voldemort said, raising to his feet and rubbing his neck (which had almost been cut). He looked at Elora in the torchlight, the silky gray nightgown she wore clung to every inch and curve of her body, and her long brown hair reached down to her hips and the white bangs fell over her face. She pulled them away and Voldemort saw that the blue that was once in her eyes has nearly disappeared, and a black onyx clouded them over. Voldemort cleared his throat. "You've certainly changed since we last met."
"Have we met before, my lord? If we have I am sorry, I cannot remember." Elora said. "Will you be staying for the night?" She let the dagger she held float to the dresser with the others.
"Of course he will," Ahren said, opening the door for Voldemort. "He just entered the wrong room. My lord, your room is across the hall, this way please."
Voldemort exited, casting one last look to Elora, who curtsied to him saying, "Good night."
Ahren closed the door and immediately pushed Voldemort against the adjacent wall growling, "What did you think you were doing?"
Voldemort narrowed his eyes; "You will not speak to me that way."
"I can speak to you in any way I dare so wish, Voldemort. This is my castle, and that is my daughter, you have no power here. I told you not to hurt her, and I will fight to keep her alive tomorrow."
Voldemort pushed Ahren away from him saying, "I just may change her sentence. When is the spell predicted to completely take over?"
"Tomorrow night, during the full moon." Ahren replied. "But if you're to sacrifice her, it won't have a chance."
"Then we'll wait." Voldemort said. "The ceremony can wait till another day." He entered his room and before closing the door, he asked Ahren, "Why did she change like that?".
Ahren sneered to him, "I didn't expect it to do that. The spell works different depending on whether or not the bearer has dark soul. She must have had a hidden darkness." A short laugh came from Voldemort. "What is it?" Ahren asked.
"It didn't go away." Voldemort replied.
"What didn't?" Ahren asked again.
"The darkness within her... it stayed." Voldemort replied, then closed the door and Ahren heard an evil laugh from inside the room.