The Dark Brother
Author: Amara Ophelia Riddle
Disclaimer- I do not own anything that pertains to anything in Harry Potter- I take none of the credit and therefore expect none. I do claim the original idea for the plot.*sigh* I like writing complicated Disclaimings! Hahahaha! The Dark Brother Amara Ophelia Riddle Prologue * Never ceasing rain hammered mercilessly on the windows and the roofs of the houses of the people of Little Hangleton. Forked lightning flashed overhead, dark rumbles of thunder growled lowly. The inhabitants of Little Hangleton were all quietly asleep in their comfy beds, all locked in their peaceful dream, unaware of the raging storm that blew around them. Not knowing the evil that was taking place in their little town. On the hill, the storm had no mercy over the Riddle House. Rain slashed through the layers of dirt that was caked on the side of the house and penetrated the dust and cobwebs. The old house was illuminated as a ghostly landmark of mystery with every branch of lightning. The house had stood empty for several years now, but only empty to the people of Little Hangelton. To the rats and spiders that made the Riddle House their home, it was far from empty. A lone, black-coated figure walked down the front corridor of the Riddle house, its footsteps making no sound through the thick dust that coated the floor. A single candle's light cut through the darkness, casting an eerie glow of light. The figure pushed open the door at the end with a slow, dull creaking noise and walked inside. The person hastily swept in, extinguishing the candle with a gentle blow and setting it down with a dull clanking sound on the floor. " My Lord," it grumbled. A man's voice was coming from the hood of the cloak, low and raspy. He dropped to his knees. " My Lord." A tall man cloaked in deep scarlet red was standing at the window, watching the storm as it clashed outside. At the sound of the man's grumbling voice, he turned, his snake-like slits of red eyes glittering maliciously. " What is it, Lavit? It had better be good." The man said in a grating voice. He turned back to the window. Lavit cringed at the harsh voice. " My Lord, I bring news, from the hills of Romania," The tall man turned to face Lavit, although Lavit did not see it, he heard the swishing of his cloak, swirling the dust into the air. " There has been talk among the goblins that I have heard," he continued, his breath catching, almost afraid to continue. " They are saying, My Lord..." Lavit stopped, too frightened to proceed. The tall man whispered something under his breath and the room that Lavit stood in with the tall man was lit in a acid green mist. Lavit dared himself almost to an extent to look up. " Yes Lavit," he said in his rasping voice. " I know. You think yourself to be rewarded for telling me this valuable information." Lavit gasped. " My Lord!" he exclaimed. " I would think not of such nonsense!" The man gave a short laugh. " Ha! Do you think I shall believe that?" He turned his back on the sniveling form of Lavit. " No, Lavit. Lord Voldemort sees all, hears all, and knows all. Do not lie to me for you shall not succeed. "However," Lord Voldemort said softly, and with a change of tone. " you did travel long and hard to find me and relate what you have heard from the goblins. I respect the thought of my servants to bring me estimable information. I shall reward you by sparing your life." Lavit breathed out great gusts of air that he had been holding in his lungs for quite some time. " You forget the fact that Lord Voldemort sees all, hears all, and knows all, which shall not be forgotten again. Is that understood?" " Yes, yes my Lord." He managed to stutter. He stumbled to his feet with much difficulty. " You are dismissed." Voldemort said with disgust, as if he were trying to rid himself of filth that clung to his cloak. Lavit bowed and turned, picking up his candle and lit it and quickly left the room, as he was very glad to leave. Voldemort waited till the door was properly closed and he heard the swiftly retreating footsteps of Lavit. He turned back to the window, watching the storm's frenzied raving outside, a plan forming in his mind. He cleared his throat and began to talk in a low voice that was not English at all. He sputtered forth hisses and spits that were translated as: " That fool of a brother of mine, Nagini. He shall never succeed. He has already failed once, why must he try again?" Even in this other language (called Parseltongue) he sounded exasperated. There was a dry rustling sound, like that of the autumn wind toying with the leaves, blowing them carelessly. A snake, a large one, had been coiled in a thick rope, lazily relaxing, enjoying itself after a fruitful hunt that had landed it with many rats. It answered back. " My Lord, who knows what goes through the minds of your inferiors?" Voldemort sighed. " What should I do, Nagini? Is he a threat to me and my ruling?" The snake paused and lifted its ugly diamond shaped head. " I suggest, my Lord, you call in your Seer. Perhaps she may be of help." Voldemort lifted the snake's head gently in his long, white hands. " Perhaps. He has not seen true power. His reign of terror was a mere nothing. And he calls himself a Dark Wizard." " My Lord," interrupted the snake. " Might it be wise not to underestimate his power." " Are you saying that he is more than a match for me?" " My Lord, it is only a precaution. You mustn't be a fool and be caught unaware, be his power strong." " I will not take precautions! I am more than a match! I can defeat him in a single blow. There will be no precautions. Only the final battle." The last word was spoken. Voldemort turned back to the storm, and Nagini coiled back down like a rope and slipped back into its slumber. Outside the storm continued to billow in clouds that were full of rain, thunder and lightning. Things remained the same in the village, yet they were to be drastically changed for those in the Riddle House. * " When we arrived," whispered Cornelius Fudge into the ear of Albus Dumbledore. " we found him like this. We didn't dare move him. The Aurors decided it would be best to call you in." The forlorn figure of Jeremy Swenson lay still amid the ruins of his perished house. He was dead of some unknown force, his skin a sickly yellow- green, eyes wide in horror. Dumbledore bent down on his knees, prodding and poking, his long fingers searching the body of Swenson. He rummaged around in one of his deep cloak pockets and drew forth a long, thin wand. "Baliviote." He whispered. A stream of silver shot from the tip of the wand and onto the body of Swenson. Fudge gasped, but Dumbledore remained calm. His blue eyes had lost their twinkle. Instead, they held a furious storm of anger. From Swenson's clenched right hand, a thick, black substance like tar began to bubble from it. Dumbledore nodded to himself, leaving Fudge in suspense. He bent down and gently unclenched his right hand. Clear of the black substance, a four-pointed black star was lit in the palm of his hand. Dumbledore's breath caught in his chest, and Fudge nervously patted his forehead with a handkerchief. " Could it be possible, Dumbledore? The Aurors have heard or seen of nothing! Nothing!" Dumbledore sighed. " Could it be that He has been working in secret, not ready to reveal himself?" Fudge opened his mouth to sputter forth protest, but nothing came out. " Yes, Cornelius. It is indeed true." His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. " Lord Grindewald has once again risen." A/N- There is much, much more to come, so please be patient! I haven't got the whole plot planned out yet so it may take a while to get the whole thing completed. Thank you ever so much for your patience! Au revoirt!
Author: Amara Ophelia Riddle
Disclaimer- I do not own anything that pertains to anything in Harry Potter- I take none of the credit and therefore expect none. I do claim the original idea for the plot.*sigh* I like writing complicated Disclaimings! Hahahaha! The Dark Brother Amara Ophelia Riddle Prologue * Never ceasing rain hammered mercilessly on the windows and the roofs of the houses of the people of Little Hangleton. Forked lightning flashed overhead, dark rumbles of thunder growled lowly. The inhabitants of Little Hangleton were all quietly asleep in their comfy beds, all locked in their peaceful dream, unaware of the raging storm that blew around them. Not knowing the evil that was taking place in their little town. On the hill, the storm had no mercy over the Riddle House. Rain slashed through the layers of dirt that was caked on the side of the house and penetrated the dust and cobwebs. The old house was illuminated as a ghostly landmark of mystery with every branch of lightning. The house had stood empty for several years now, but only empty to the people of Little Hangelton. To the rats and spiders that made the Riddle House their home, it was far from empty. A lone, black-coated figure walked down the front corridor of the Riddle house, its footsteps making no sound through the thick dust that coated the floor. A single candle's light cut through the darkness, casting an eerie glow of light. The figure pushed open the door at the end with a slow, dull creaking noise and walked inside. The person hastily swept in, extinguishing the candle with a gentle blow and setting it down with a dull clanking sound on the floor. " My Lord," it grumbled. A man's voice was coming from the hood of the cloak, low and raspy. He dropped to his knees. " My Lord." A tall man cloaked in deep scarlet red was standing at the window, watching the storm as it clashed outside. At the sound of the man's grumbling voice, he turned, his snake-like slits of red eyes glittering maliciously. " What is it, Lavit? It had better be good." The man said in a grating voice. He turned back to the window. Lavit cringed at the harsh voice. " My Lord, I bring news, from the hills of Romania," The tall man turned to face Lavit, although Lavit did not see it, he heard the swishing of his cloak, swirling the dust into the air. " There has been talk among the goblins that I have heard," he continued, his breath catching, almost afraid to continue. " They are saying, My Lord..." Lavit stopped, too frightened to proceed. The tall man whispered something under his breath and the room that Lavit stood in with the tall man was lit in a acid green mist. Lavit dared himself almost to an extent to look up. " Yes Lavit," he said in his rasping voice. " I know. You think yourself to be rewarded for telling me this valuable information." Lavit gasped. " My Lord!" he exclaimed. " I would think not of such nonsense!" The man gave a short laugh. " Ha! Do you think I shall believe that?" He turned his back on the sniveling form of Lavit. " No, Lavit. Lord Voldemort sees all, hears all, and knows all. Do not lie to me for you shall not succeed. "However," Lord Voldemort said softly, and with a change of tone. " you did travel long and hard to find me and relate what you have heard from the goblins. I respect the thought of my servants to bring me estimable information. I shall reward you by sparing your life." Lavit breathed out great gusts of air that he had been holding in his lungs for quite some time. " You forget the fact that Lord Voldemort sees all, hears all, and knows all, which shall not be forgotten again. Is that understood?" " Yes, yes my Lord." He managed to stutter. He stumbled to his feet with much difficulty. " You are dismissed." Voldemort said with disgust, as if he were trying to rid himself of filth that clung to his cloak. Lavit bowed and turned, picking up his candle and lit it and quickly left the room, as he was very glad to leave. Voldemort waited till the door was properly closed and he heard the swiftly retreating footsteps of Lavit. He turned back to the window, watching the storm's frenzied raving outside, a plan forming in his mind. He cleared his throat and began to talk in a low voice that was not English at all. He sputtered forth hisses and spits that were translated as: " That fool of a brother of mine, Nagini. He shall never succeed. He has already failed once, why must he try again?" Even in this other language (called Parseltongue) he sounded exasperated. There was a dry rustling sound, like that of the autumn wind toying with the leaves, blowing them carelessly. A snake, a large one, had been coiled in a thick rope, lazily relaxing, enjoying itself after a fruitful hunt that had landed it with many rats. It answered back. " My Lord, who knows what goes through the minds of your inferiors?" Voldemort sighed. " What should I do, Nagini? Is he a threat to me and my ruling?" The snake paused and lifted its ugly diamond shaped head. " I suggest, my Lord, you call in your Seer. Perhaps she may be of help." Voldemort lifted the snake's head gently in his long, white hands. " Perhaps. He has not seen true power. His reign of terror was a mere nothing. And he calls himself a Dark Wizard." " My Lord," interrupted the snake. " Might it be wise not to underestimate his power." " Are you saying that he is more than a match for me?" " My Lord, it is only a precaution. You mustn't be a fool and be caught unaware, be his power strong." " I will not take precautions! I am more than a match! I can defeat him in a single blow. There will be no precautions. Only the final battle." The last word was spoken. Voldemort turned back to the storm, and Nagini coiled back down like a rope and slipped back into its slumber. Outside the storm continued to billow in clouds that were full of rain, thunder and lightning. Things remained the same in the village, yet they were to be drastically changed for those in the Riddle House. * " When we arrived," whispered Cornelius Fudge into the ear of Albus Dumbledore. " we found him like this. We didn't dare move him. The Aurors decided it would be best to call you in." The forlorn figure of Jeremy Swenson lay still amid the ruins of his perished house. He was dead of some unknown force, his skin a sickly yellow- green, eyes wide in horror. Dumbledore bent down on his knees, prodding and poking, his long fingers searching the body of Swenson. He rummaged around in one of his deep cloak pockets and drew forth a long, thin wand. "Baliviote." He whispered. A stream of silver shot from the tip of the wand and onto the body of Swenson. Fudge gasped, but Dumbledore remained calm. His blue eyes had lost their twinkle. Instead, they held a furious storm of anger. From Swenson's clenched right hand, a thick, black substance like tar began to bubble from it. Dumbledore nodded to himself, leaving Fudge in suspense. He bent down and gently unclenched his right hand. Clear of the black substance, a four-pointed black star was lit in the palm of his hand. Dumbledore's breath caught in his chest, and Fudge nervously patted his forehead with a handkerchief. " Could it be possible, Dumbledore? The Aurors have heard or seen of nothing! Nothing!" Dumbledore sighed. " Could it be that He has been working in secret, not ready to reveal himself?" Fudge opened his mouth to sputter forth protest, but nothing came out. " Yes, Cornelius. It is indeed true." His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. " Lord Grindewald has once again risen." A/N- There is much, much more to come, so please be patient! I haven't got the whole plot planned out yet so it may take a while to get the whole thing completed. Thank you ever so much for your patience! Au revoirt!