Chapter 1
The Journey
High upon the hills of a barren wasteland, surrounded by nothing but shadows, a towering and impenetrable fortress stood, forgotten for years. The swirling clouds and dark fog served to hide the castle's thick walls, it's sturdy gate, and it's sprawling moat, but nothing, magical or ordinary, could hide the screams that came from within. To the villagers of a nearby-inhabited island, the screams had become a manifestation of their irate god of death. The howls didn't usually last any longer than a few days, and horrid though they certainly were, the unusual silence that followed each fitful period of screaming seemed even worse in comparison.
"Another one has descended…" the villagers would say, looking fearfully at each other.
Those few who had attempted to go in search of the reward that would certainly be bestowed upon a warrior brave enough to penetrate Death's own domain had never come back out of his mysterious waters. All trace of them would disappear leaving their families to wonder at what mysteries had consumed their loved ones.
Yet despite this, amidst the dark shadows swirling around an endless maze of mist and clouds, a figure in black vainly tried to find his way through them. His small rowboat almost forgotten, no paddle was evident, yet it seemed to be moving effortlessly along the water without one. A faint glow emanated from an slender rod the figure was carrying, although no lamp was evident.
Whispers of promised death and an insatiable desire to run seemed to be permeable in the very air around the forbidden island, yet the figure in black seemed unperturbed. Dark, glowing eyes emerged from a skull-white hood, as the figure turned towards the island. The boat was still moving inexorably forward towards a fate worse than death, seemingly unaware of it's master's plight. The very waters seemed to part before this odd scene, until the boat suddenly stopped, and then was raised high in the air, moving faster and faster towards an unknown destination.
For the first time, the dark figure seemed to be showing signs of strain, fingers tightened upon the wand it was carrying. As the boat continued to move towards the island at a rapid pace, the figure paused, just as an ear-splitting scream pierced the air. He was getting close, and could feel it, could anticipate the coming victory, or certain death. Eyes betraying the exuberance he felt at the mission he had been granted, flashed with unrestrained joy, just as the boat split apart with an ear-splitting roar, as an explosion seemed to tear at the very core of the earth.
With more force than intended, the figure fell unimpeded to the ground, robes catching upon the sharp rocks on the surface as the intruder just narrowly avoided a gruesome death. As he struggled up attempting to recover himself, the whispers of death grew louder into screams of rage, and the desire to run seemed impossible not to heed. Yet the figure remained stalwart, committed to the mission he had been given with an fanatical devotion that would have chilled the hearts of anybody who had been able to see, to witness the moment of triumph.
Yet more obstacles seemed determined to remain in the figure's path. From the darkest shadows, where no light could penetrate, hooded figures of unspeakable terror rose to confront this intruder. Never before had they been called upon to defend their fortress, yet now, to considerable surprise, someone had actually come, willingly to them. It was an opportunity they could not resist taking as their long, sinewy arms reached out to grab this stubborn trespasser and shake the very life out of him. Murmurs of depraved delight rang out in the air as the figure backed away, momentarily horrified at the sight of the dementors, creatures so horrible they were feared more than death.
"Expecto Patronum!" A shrill voice came suddenly from under the hood of the mysterious prowler, wand flashing in the air. A red, bloodthirsty spider suddenly leapt from within the wand and charged towards the group of dementors, it's fangs glistening, bloodlust overriding it's basic instincts. The dementors backed away momentarily, startled by the sudden appearance of the instruder's savior, and distracted by the power evident in this mysterious trespasser. Yet they were many, and powerful though this apparition was, it was no match for the hundreds of dementors that were now appearing from all over the place so suddenly that it almost seemed like they were dropping from the skies. The spider was soon torn into a dozen, bloody pieces by hundreds of hands.
Horrified at the failure of his spell, the figure started backing away even further, slipping upon the jagged surfaces of the rocks he has just crashed upon, his eyes flashing not with desire now, but fear. Wand still shaking in the air, he attempted to repeat it's spell, but the words would not come as fear finally overwhelmed him. As he back away fearfully, his robes suddenly caught themselves upon a rock, and he was pulled down by his own weight. The dementors closed in, confident and assured of the coming kill, their delight almost tangible as they moved closer and closer.
"Expecto…Patronum." The words were spoken, not shouted, and seemed to come from everywhere, and no where, all at once. The cold, calculated voice conjuring up the same spell that had failed just moments ago, was filled with such power, that it filled the figure below with more fear than the group of dementors approaching could possibly instill in a lifetime. The figure trembled helplessly knowing what was to come, no longer having a cause to fear the creatures approaching him, their hoods drawing back. The first dementor to close upon the now cowering figure, unaware of the fate that awaited it, drew back it's hood, about to bestow the dreaded kiss of the dementor's, a fate more horrible than death. As it drew closer to the sniveling creature, the dementor was whipped back with unfathomable force by an invisible assailant, flung to the ground before being ground into dust, in the mere span of seconds.
A second approached, seemingly unaware of the first's fate, but before it had gotten within a few feet of it's goal, it was crushed, dark hood dropping away as an unseen yet potent force squeezed at it with unrestrained murderous intensity. The torso of the offending creature seemed to bend at a point unnatural for even dementors before it's entire body seemed to break with a sickening crack, as the creature fell forward, dead before it hit the ground.
The group of dementors, hundreds strong, now paused. What force was protecting this intruder, and how could it have so easily dispatched two of their own kind. Their lust for the kill was tempered by an insatiable need to understand what was happening and why. No longer moving towards the figure, but now away from it, the very air all around them seemed to waver, as a solid figure began to form. Lines appeared all around what was once emptiness, a enormous bulk of a creature so ancient, and mysterious that it's kind were rarely seen at all began to form. Shadowy blackness engulfed the area all around them, as a black dragon reared its magnificent head upward towards the sky, it's size dwarfing the entire group of dementors, all together who were now backing away with more speed.
The figure on the ground trembled, it's eyes no longer glistening with zeal, but with unfathomable panic. Tears seemed to streak down his mask, as he begged for forgiveness of all he had ever done to deserve this fate, before an amused chuckle broke from near the direction of the dragon's back. Everywhere now, more and more figures were apparating all around the lone figure, joining him in reverence to their master wearing identical black robes and white masks.
"You have done well, Lucius…although your handling of the that spell could have been a bit better. I had expected better performance from man so versed in the dark arts…", the voice said again, as a thin, gaunt, shadow of a man strode down from upon the dragon's back.
"Forgive me, Master…but there were too many..I will do better nex-"
"Yes..yes you will..there is no doubt to that.." The man behind the voice finally whispered, interrupting Lucius Malfoy before he could finish. Lucius looked up, eyes glazed with fear as he looked into the eyes of his master, a being so powerful that his very name not uttered for fear of reprisal. Dark eyes formed the beginnings, of a bony white mask of a face. Thick robes of night black encased the rest of the man's body, and a thin, long wand was evident in his hand. But what was most startling about this man, was his eyes. Dark red eyes filled with such hate, and gloom, that to look upon them was to see countless deaths and acts of torture in startling detail. To look upon those eyes was to see the power of Lord Voldermoot, "You will do better, for failure will be death, as you well know Lucius.."
"Yes..yes master…thank you for saving m-.."
"Oh but I have not Lucius,…" Lord Voldemort chuckled, a hallow sound with no humor behind it. "You see..my servants pay dearly for their failures…and you, have failed me."
"But master..you are here, the spell must have worke-"
"Silence." Again, the words of command were spoken, not shouted. Yet the calm, assured whisper of Lord Voldemort could promise more terrors than any other voice could. "You have failed. You were to continue to the prison and finish the task yourself. Yet I had to save you, again, as I have always had to. You are beginning to prove most useless, Lucius."
"Ye…yes, Master..I will do.."
"Silence!" Lord Voldermort finally snapped, his eyes flashing with sudden anger. The cowering man before him trailed off, his hands shaking he clung to his master's robes, pleading for mercy. Yet mercy was not on Lord Voldermort's mind. "You are lucky indeed, that my apparation was much more powerful than yours.."
With that, Lord Voldermort, and most of the assembled Death Eaters turned to gaze upon the creature now taking up an enormous amount of space. The black dragon had stretched out it's wings to their full span, and was still glaring fiercely at the huddled group of dementors, now much farther back than they were before. Every few minutes, a dementor would become brave enough to attempt to cross over to the assembled group of Death Eaters, and the dragon would calmly breathe fire all over it, burning it to a crisp, and startling more than one Death Eater.
"Capable isn't it….." Lord Voldermort said, a smile caressing his thin face. "Very capable…something which I'm afraid, you aren't…" Eyes narrowing, smile becoming wider, Lord Voldermort turned to gaze at Lucius, who was too afraid to look up. "Yes…I'm afraid…you will have to be punished Lucius..for your own good you could imagine.."
"Plea-"
"Crucius!"
And then the screams came.