Harry Potter and the Golden Amulet
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I mean it. So please don't sue me.
Summary:
Voldemort has been defeated and exiled to a Hell dimension, finally bringing harmony to the wizarding world. But one of the Dark Lord's loyal followers will do everything in his power to rescue his Master from his hellish prison, threatening the fragile peace so recently acquired. This takes place six years after Hogwarts. Some R/Hr, D/G, H/?.
Chapter 1
The Prophecy
He stood in the dark, wearing his best dress robes. The luxurious blood red velvet pooled around him, enveloping him so that only his face and hands remained uncovered by the fabric. It was an indulgence. One of the only indulgences he could permit himself. The man crossed the lavish hotel room to the balcony doors. He dared not touch anything with out the protection of his gloves for fear of being contaminated so with gloved hands, he grasped the knobs and flung open the French doors, which caused a waft of air to caress his pale face.
Stepping onto the balcony, he surveyed the sight before him and his anger simmered inside. Most would love the sight of Paris at night with its lights and the Eiffel tower standing proudly for all to admire. However, he did not love what he saw. To him, everything, which fell under his gaze, merely reminded him that he could not go home. Not yet. Soon, but not yet. He will return home and he will make them pay. Make him pay. Suddenly, he shook the thought away. 'One must not dwell on the past in times such as these,' he thought. 'I must conserve my energies for my Master. I must free him.'
Looking down to the street he spied dozens, if not hundreds, of Muggles all of whom were oblivious to anything but themselves. Muggles. The thought of Muggles alone was enough to send him in a frenzied panic. He hated them and yet, he had no choice but to live among them. It was the only way he could remain free to rescue his Master. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make in order to ensure the return of the Dark Lord and he knew that his sacrifice would be well rewarded.
The man left the balcony. He picked up a piece of parchment upon entering the room and examined it carefully. There had to be a way. It must be possible to open the Threshold, the door to the Hell dimension, which held his Master. They had sent him there after all. It had been open at one point. But how will he achieve this? How is it possible? He threw the parchment into the fireplace in frustration. He was close. He could feel it.
Suddenly very tired, he sat down on a large chair in front of the fire and stared at the flames, hoping the dancing light would inspire him. But all he could think of was the night his Master was exiled. It was Potter's fault. Potter and those little Weasels and the Mudblood and.. He couldn't even bring himself to think his name, yet alone speak it. It was their fault. 'They'd rendered my Master powerless.' He still wasn't sure exactly how they had managed to rid his Master of his powers but it happened. It was only in this state that the Ministry would have been able to exile him to his prison, to the Hell dimension.
Already six years had past and still, his Master has not been rescued. He knew that with everyday that past, his Master's wrath would grow. And he would be forced to live with Muggle filth. This never should have happened. His Master should be here, with himself standing faithfully at his side, wreaking havoc on the Muggles and the Mudbloods. His Master should be here, more powerful than ever! "Arghhh!" In a fit of rage, he grabbed the small table, which stood beside his chair, and hurled to the wall with great vengeance, causing it to explode into many wooden pieces.
As dust settled around him, he took a deep breath, to steady his emotions, and began ridding his robes of dust. Diligently, he returned his robes to their original, spotless state when he heard a knock at his door. He knew who it would be. "Come in, Crabbe," he said evenly.
"Sir, the goblins have found it."
"What?" The man in the blood red robes asked loudly. His voice boomed and Crabbe recoiled in fear. He smiled. Could it be? Could he have found a way to free his Master? "What have they found?"
"A prophecy, sir. About the Dark Lord," Crabbe continued, if somewhat cowed. He began recounting the prophecy, which the goblins had found. With every word, the man in the blood red robes smiled.
Only once Crabbe finished telling him of the prophecy did the man speak. "Crabbe, assemble the Death Eaters. Our Master will be freed shortly and we must prepare the way for him."
Crabbe nodded and before he left the room, he replied, "Yes sir."
The time was coming near. Lord Voldemort will return. And he, Lucius Malfoy, will be the one to free him.
***
A/N: So, what do you think so far? I know that the rating is a tad high for this chapter but trust me, I'll need it later. Please review. Flames accepted but not necessarily welcomed :) More chapters to come.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I mean it. So please don't sue me.
Summary:
Voldemort has been defeated and exiled to a Hell dimension, finally bringing harmony to the wizarding world. But one of the Dark Lord's loyal followers will do everything in his power to rescue his Master from his hellish prison, threatening the fragile peace so recently acquired. This takes place six years after Hogwarts. Some R/Hr, D/G, H/?.
Chapter 1
The Prophecy
He stood in the dark, wearing his best dress robes. The luxurious blood red velvet pooled around him, enveloping him so that only his face and hands remained uncovered by the fabric. It was an indulgence. One of the only indulgences he could permit himself. The man crossed the lavish hotel room to the balcony doors. He dared not touch anything with out the protection of his gloves for fear of being contaminated so with gloved hands, he grasped the knobs and flung open the French doors, which caused a waft of air to caress his pale face.
Stepping onto the balcony, he surveyed the sight before him and his anger simmered inside. Most would love the sight of Paris at night with its lights and the Eiffel tower standing proudly for all to admire. However, he did not love what he saw. To him, everything, which fell under his gaze, merely reminded him that he could not go home. Not yet. Soon, but not yet. He will return home and he will make them pay. Make him pay. Suddenly, he shook the thought away. 'One must not dwell on the past in times such as these,' he thought. 'I must conserve my energies for my Master. I must free him.'
Looking down to the street he spied dozens, if not hundreds, of Muggles all of whom were oblivious to anything but themselves. Muggles. The thought of Muggles alone was enough to send him in a frenzied panic. He hated them and yet, he had no choice but to live among them. It was the only way he could remain free to rescue his Master. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make in order to ensure the return of the Dark Lord and he knew that his sacrifice would be well rewarded.
The man left the balcony. He picked up a piece of parchment upon entering the room and examined it carefully. There had to be a way. It must be possible to open the Threshold, the door to the Hell dimension, which held his Master. They had sent him there after all. It had been open at one point. But how will he achieve this? How is it possible? He threw the parchment into the fireplace in frustration. He was close. He could feel it.
Suddenly very tired, he sat down on a large chair in front of the fire and stared at the flames, hoping the dancing light would inspire him. But all he could think of was the night his Master was exiled. It was Potter's fault. Potter and those little Weasels and the Mudblood and.. He couldn't even bring himself to think his name, yet alone speak it. It was their fault. 'They'd rendered my Master powerless.' He still wasn't sure exactly how they had managed to rid his Master of his powers but it happened. It was only in this state that the Ministry would have been able to exile him to his prison, to the Hell dimension.
Already six years had past and still, his Master has not been rescued. He knew that with everyday that past, his Master's wrath would grow. And he would be forced to live with Muggle filth. This never should have happened. His Master should be here, with himself standing faithfully at his side, wreaking havoc on the Muggles and the Mudbloods. His Master should be here, more powerful than ever! "Arghhh!" In a fit of rage, he grabbed the small table, which stood beside his chair, and hurled to the wall with great vengeance, causing it to explode into many wooden pieces.
As dust settled around him, he took a deep breath, to steady his emotions, and began ridding his robes of dust. Diligently, he returned his robes to their original, spotless state when he heard a knock at his door. He knew who it would be. "Come in, Crabbe," he said evenly.
"Sir, the goblins have found it."
"What?" The man in the blood red robes asked loudly. His voice boomed and Crabbe recoiled in fear. He smiled. Could it be? Could he have found a way to free his Master? "What have they found?"
"A prophecy, sir. About the Dark Lord," Crabbe continued, if somewhat cowed. He began recounting the prophecy, which the goblins had found. With every word, the man in the blood red robes smiled.
Only once Crabbe finished telling him of the prophecy did the man speak. "Crabbe, assemble the Death Eaters. Our Master will be freed shortly and we must prepare the way for him."
Crabbe nodded and before he left the room, he replied, "Yes sir."
The time was coming near. Lord Voldemort will return. And he, Lucius Malfoy, will be the one to free him.
***
A/N: So, what do you think so far? I know that the rating is a tad high for this chapter but trust me, I'll need it later. Please review. Flames accepted but not necessarily welcomed :) More chapters to come.
