A/N MILD SWEARING IN THIS AND THE NEXT CHP. (MORE IN THE NEXT, ACTUALLY) TWO NOTES, PLEASE READ:
a) THE WORD 'MAGIC' IS SPELLED WITH A 'K'. PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS THE WAY TRUE WITCHES AND WIZARDS SPELL IT, IT IS THE CORRECT SPELLING AND I WILL BE USING IT THROUGHOUT THIS NOVEL AS WELL AS IN MY OTHER FICS.
b) IN ADDITION, I USE THE TERM 'WHITE WIZARDS' THIS TERM IS USED IN A WAY TO REFER TO THE TYPE OF MAGICK THEY PRACTICE, IT IS NOT MEANT TO BE AFFILIATED WITH THEIR RACE, I'M NOT TRYING TO MAKE AN ETHNIC STATEMENT. IF YOU TAKE IT THAT WAY AND ARE OFFENDED, THAT WAS NOT MY INTENT.
In another, quite different part of the wizardring world a meeting was also being held. The Death-Eaters were gathering to receive orders from their Dark Master.
The sun was sinking low in the west as wizards began Apparating, filling every open space in the circle. The Dark Lord was perched aloft, looking down on his followers from atop the tallest rock in the circle.
The Death-Eaters looked around, nodding in approval at their new meeting place. Stonehenge. A haven for the dark arts since first it was built in the early days by the tribe of Dark Druids, seeking to control the heavens. It was protected by the most powerful and ancient black magick spells, which was why it was still standing. No white witch or wizard had ever been able to destroy it.
The wizards bowed low as the caught sight of their master. "Greetings master," a low murmur erupted from the assembled, "we come willing and ready to serve."
He hissed at them in reply. "I am discouraged, my minions, I am indeed discouraged. Give your Lord comfort, for he has lost many more followers this day. That accursed Ministry finally managed to do something right for once. Five of my most loyal had caught a pair of Aurors and were torturing them. Unfortunately, Crouch stepped in and saved them. Filthy bastard. But we will teach him, won't we, my Death-Eaters?"
"Yes, master," they replied in unison.
"Now, you must find others to take their places, I have one here. Step forward, you!"
Barty Crouch (the younger) stepped out from behind a rock. He was swathed in a black cloak, and his face was grim and set. He looked completely changed from his meeting with Dumbledore earlier. "May I speak, Lord?"
"You have no need, I shall tell them." Barty nodded diligently, Voldemort continued. "Barty here is young and willing. He should serve as a good help to us. He brought me news just this day, that Dumbledore has also formed a secret alliance against me. Even the minister does not know of this. As if we needed more trouble."
"The ministry may be a bunch of buffoons, but Dumbledore is no fool. He'll find us, and hunt us down to his last man. But Barty informs me that our numbers are greater still, we can still defeat him, doubtless."
A Death-Eater raised his wand and let up a fiery signal into the air. This was the sign that he wished to speak. Voldemort noticed the single flame rising above the crowd.
Voldemort sighed and waved his hand at the wizard. "Very well, rise, Cheech, speak your piece. And no long speeches, make it quick!"
The man rose, "Lord, I am not questioning your judgment, do not take it as that, but this man, well. To be quite frank, how do we know he is not a spy? His father, after all, is killing us as we speak!" he ended in a belligerent tone.
Murmurs of agreement rose from the assembled.
"Silence!" The Dark Lord shouted. The Death-Eaters ceased their noise obediently. "That is a good question. Barty has shown his loyalty to me just as all of you have. Anyone who passes the test is bound to me by Dark Magick, and cannot disobey me. Not that anyone would dare. Go from here my Death-Eaters, and spread the seeds of fear and hate. We will meet again soon."
The dark wizards gathered around the rock on which their master was elevated. Each bowed low before him as a sign of reverence. They then shuddered, drew their wands, and slit their foreheads. The blood fell to the ground, creating red pools at the foot of the rock. They would, of course, heal themselves the minute they were out his sight, yet while their Master watched, they were forced to bear the pain.
Silently, they each Apparated back to their own home. Their master alighted from his lofty perch, muttering an ancient chant under his breath.
He stood, planted in the pool of blood, gazing skyward. Suddenly, the heavens flashed, a storm came rolling in. A bright blue light flashed in his eyes. Blue lightening shot down from the large black cloud hanging directly over the stone circle. The lightening enveloped his body and he screamed and howled with pleasure, feeling its power surge through him.
Unbeknownst to him, a lone Death-Eater looked on, his eyes first wide in wonderment in awe, then he turned away, shaking his head in disgust. He spoke to himself, low under his breath, "What have you gotten yourself into, Severus? What have you?"
a) THE WORD 'MAGIC' IS SPELLED WITH A 'K'. PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS THE WAY TRUE WITCHES AND WIZARDS SPELL IT, IT IS THE CORRECT SPELLING AND I WILL BE USING IT THROUGHOUT THIS NOVEL AS WELL AS IN MY OTHER FICS.
b) IN ADDITION, I USE THE TERM 'WHITE WIZARDS' THIS TERM IS USED IN A WAY TO REFER TO THE TYPE OF MAGICK THEY PRACTICE, IT IS NOT MEANT TO BE AFFILIATED WITH THEIR RACE, I'M NOT TRYING TO MAKE AN ETHNIC STATEMENT. IF YOU TAKE IT THAT WAY AND ARE OFFENDED, THAT WAS NOT MY INTENT.
In another, quite different part of the wizardring world a meeting was also being held. The Death-Eaters were gathering to receive orders from their Dark Master.
The sun was sinking low in the west as wizards began Apparating, filling every open space in the circle. The Dark Lord was perched aloft, looking down on his followers from atop the tallest rock in the circle.
The Death-Eaters looked around, nodding in approval at their new meeting place. Stonehenge. A haven for the dark arts since first it was built in the early days by the tribe of Dark Druids, seeking to control the heavens. It was protected by the most powerful and ancient black magick spells, which was why it was still standing. No white witch or wizard had ever been able to destroy it.
The wizards bowed low as the caught sight of their master. "Greetings master," a low murmur erupted from the assembled, "we come willing and ready to serve."
He hissed at them in reply. "I am discouraged, my minions, I am indeed discouraged. Give your Lord comfort, for he has lost many more followers this day. That accursed Ministry finally managed to do something right for once. Five of my most loyal had caught a pair of Aurors and were torturing them. Unfortunately, Crouch stepped in and saved them. Filthy bastard. But we will teach him, won't we, my Death-Eaters?"
"Yes, master," they replied in unison.
"Now, you must find others to take their places, I have one here. Step forward, you!"
Barty Crouch (the younger) stepped out from behind a rock. He was swathed in a black cloak, and his face was grim and set. He looked completely changed from his meeting with Dumbledore earlier. "May I speak, Lord?"
"You have no need, I shall tell them." Barty nodded diligently, Voldemort continued. "Barty here is young and willing. He should serve as a good help to us. He brought me news just this day, that Dumbledore has also formed a secret alliance against me. Even the minister does not know of this. As if we needed more trouble."
"The ministry may be a bunch of buffoons, but Dumbledore is no fool. He'll find us, and hunt us down to his last man. But Barty informs me that our numbers are greater still, we can still defeat him, doubtless."
A Death-Eater raised his wand and let up a fiery signal into the air. This was the sign that he wished to speak. Voldemort noticed the single flame rising above the crowd.
Voldemort sighed and waved his hand at the wizard. "Very well, rise, Cheech, speak your piece. And no long speeches, make it quick!"
The man rose, "Lord, I am not questioning your judgment, do not take it as that, but this man, well. To be quite frank, how do we know he is not a spy? His father, after all, is killing us as we speak!" he ended in a belligerent tone.
Murmurs of agreement rose from the assembled.
"Silence!" The Dark Lord shouted. The Death-Eaters ceased their noise obediently. "That is a good question. Barty has shown his loyalty to me just as all of you have. Anyone who passes the test is bound to me by Dark Magick, and cannot disobey me. Not that anyone would dare. Go from here my Death-Eaters, and spread the seeds of fear and hate. We will meet again soon."
The dark wizards gathered around the rock on which their master was elevated. Each bowed low before him as a sign of reverence. They then shuddered, drew their wands, and slit their foreheads. The blood fell to the ground, creating red pools at the foot of the rock. They would, of course, heal themselves the minute they were out his sight, yet while their Master watched, they were forced to bear the pain.
Silently, they each Apparated back to their own home. Their master alighted from his lofty perch, muttering an ancient chant under his breath.
He stood, planted in the pool of blood, gazing skyward. Suddenly, the heavens flashed, a storm came rolling in. A bright blue light flashed in his eyes. Blue lightening shot down from the large black cloud hanging directly over the stone circle. The lightening enveloped his body and he screamed and howled with pleasure, feeling its power surge through him.
Unbeknownst to him, a lone Death-Eater looked on, his eyes first wide in wonderment in awe, then he turned away, shaking his head in disgust. He spoke to himself, low under his breath, "What have you gotten yourself into, Severus? What have you?"