Prologue
Two Demons Walk Into a Bar
Three Horsemen Pub
Oxford, England
He hated being in Their World. It made him physically ill to be there,
but it was a necessity. From what the Death Eaters had reported, this
was a rat among ants.
He was where he said he would be. At the bar, sucking on something
Muggle. What it was, Voldemort did not know, but it seemed to be as
much a part of this man as the fingers holding it were. To look at
him, he looked like a sad, old grandfather who smoked too much. You
would not guess that he controlled Thier World.
But he did.
And that was why The Dark Lord wanted to meet them. If he wanted to
win this war, he had to know what kind of man ruled the Things he
hated. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
But above all, The Dark Lord was curious. He wanted to know if this
man was everything they said he was.
Even if he was just Muggle, someone who destroyed as much as he
himself had was certainly worth getting acquainted with.
"Normally, it disgusts me to sit so close to a Muggle such as
yourself," Voldemort rasped, "But you sir, are an exception," He
gestured to a chess-set lying on the table between them. "Chess?" He
suggested.
"You say the word Muggle the way most say the word Liberal these
days," The Old Man mused. "Hate is going to be your downfall one day,"
he said, taking another puff of what he was holding. For his first
move, he placed the queen-side knight on C-3.
"But from what my associates tell me, you've been the hairbringer of
so much destruction," he moved a pawn out to D-4
"If hate is going to be my downfall one day, then surely we share the
same fate."
"I don't hate. I strategize. I do what I do because I must..."
"Then we destroy for the same reason, essentially."
The Old Man shook his head. "No. You destroy because emotion motivates
you to do it. I destroy because it is a necessity for The Greater
Good. Many men have tried what you are attempting, and have become
little more than a chapter in history. I. Write. History."
Voldemort laughed as The Old Man inhaled again. "Far be it from me to
object to your help in achieving my ultimate goal, but how do you
decide who to sacrifice?"
"We sacrifice those who would not be useful."
"And in my own defense, Muggles are entirely useless. Present company
excluded, of course."
"I could have used you. Cold, heartless bastards are extremely
desirable in my organization."
Voldemort shook his head. "Mine as well. You'd make a good Death
Eater."
"I like being my own boss," the Smoking Man said. "Your move."
"I have not lived as long as I have without knowing whose turn it is
to move across the board, Muggle."
The Smoking Man continued as if he hadn't heard his opponent speak.
"At the risk of being cliché, if it weren't for the fact that only one
ruler of the world is necessary, I think this would have been the
beginning of a beautiful friendship."
"I am going to win, you know," Voldemort answered, "I don't die.
Eventually, we will have to compete against the upper-hand. I shall
enjoy the challenge."
"Not likely. Deny everything. I'm in the business of dispelling
rumors. I'll see to it that your people are not discovered."
"And if not?"
"Those responsible will be eliminated."
"You're heartless, even for a Muggle," Voldemort answered with an air
of awe in his voice.
"You don't live this long with cancer by having a heart."
"Checkmate," Voldemort crowed triumphantly.
"We shall see, sir," The Old Man answered, and extinguished the thing
he was holding on the chessboard, and walked out.
Two Demons Walk Into a Bar
Three Horsemen Pub
Oxford, England
He hated being in Their World. It made him physically ill to be there,
but it was a necessity. From what the Death Eaters had reported, this
was a rat among ants.
He was where he said he would be. At the bar, sucking on something
Muggle. What it was, Voldemort did not know, but it seemed to be as
much a part of this man as the fingers holding it were. To look at
him, he looked like a sad, old grandfather who smoked too much. You
would not guess that he controlled Thier World.
But he did.
And that was why The Dark Lord wanted to meet them. If he wanted to
win this war, he had to know what kind of man ruled the Things he
hated. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
But above all, The Dark Lord was curious. He wanted to know if this
man was everything they said he was.
Even if he was just Muggle, someone who destroyed as much as he
himself had was certainly worth getting acquainted with.
"Normally, it disgusts me to sit so close to a Muggle such as
yourself," Voldemort rasped, "But you sir, are an exception," He
gestured to a chess-set lying on the table between them. "Chess?" He
suggested.
"You say the word Muggle the way most say the word Liberal these
days," The Old Man mused. "Hate is going to be your downfall one day,"
he said, taking another puff of what he was holding. For his first
move, he placed the queen-side knight on C-3.
"But from what my associates tell me, you've been the hairbringer of
so much destruction," he moved a pawn out to D-4
"If hate is going to be my downfall one day, then surely we share the
same fate."
"I don't hate. I strategize. I do what I do because I must..."
"Then we destroy for the same reason, essentially."
The Old Man shook his head. "No. You destroy because emotion motivates
you to do it. I destroy because it is a necessity for The Greater
Good. Many men have tried what you are attempting, and have become
little more than a chapter in history. I. Write. History."
Voldemort laughed as The Old Man inhaled again. "Far be it from me to
object to your help in achieving my ultimate goal, but how do you
decide who to sacrifice?"
"We sacrifice those who would not be useful."
"And in my own defense, Muggles are entirely useless. Present company
excluded, of course."
"I could have used you. Cold, heartless bastards are extremely
desirable in my organization."
Voldemort shook his head. "Mine as well. You'd make a good Death
Eater."
"I like being my own boss," the Smoking Man said. "Your move."
"I have not lived as long as I have without knowing whose turn it is
to move across the board, Muggle."
The Smoking Man continued as if he hadn't heard his opponent speak.
"At the risk of being cliché, if it weren't for the fact that only one
ruler of the world is necessary, I think this would have been the
beginning of a beautiful friendship."
"I am going to win, you know," Voldemort answered, "I don't die.
Eventually, we will have to compete against the upper-hand. I shall
enjoy the challenge."
"Not likely. Deny everything. I'm in the business of dispelling
rumors. I'll see to it that your people are not discovered."
"And if not?"
"Those responsible will be eliminated."
"You're heartless, even for a Muggle," Voldemort answered with an air
of awe in his voice.
"You don't live this long with cancer by having a heart."
"Checkmate," Voldemort crowed triumphantly.
"We shall see, sir," The Old Man answered, and extinguished the thing
he was holding on the chessboard, and walked out.