Lost

By: Deadly Words

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series

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Prologue

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She was almost there. In just a few more minutes, she'll be able to accomplish her task. It had taken her a year to discover the secret, the Achilles' heel in Voldemort's strength. And she intended to destroy him, even if it resulted in her death.

It has been three years since the last battle when Voldemort attempted to rise to power for the last time. There had been thousands of death from both sides, including the deaths of Lucius Malfoy, Harry Potter, Elphias Doge, Terry Boot, Gregory Goyle, Minerva McGonagall, Stewart Ackerly, Malcolm Baddock, and most importantly of all, Albus Dumbledore. It had been a shock when the world discovered that Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore had died in the battle. The prophecy that the Boy-Who-Lived was the only one that can kill Voldemort was false. It was only created based on the fact that Harry had narrowly escaped Voldemort's grip. Her heart felt like it had been ripped out when she heard the news.

There had been others including her that had fought in the war against Voldemort. When the war ended with Voldemort's victory, many of those who survived had went into hiding. The last that she had heard of any of them was of Snape. It seems that he had became Voldemort's left-hand man, and Draco Malfoy, as the right-hand man.

During the three years after the war, the world had erupted in chaos. Voldemort had given himself the title of "King" and the Deatheaters killed whoever and whenever without having to face Azkaban. They killed at least forty people a day – a majority of the deaths being muggles. Many of the victims were found mutilated or had been tortured with whips or with any imaginable weapon that exist.

There had also been a huge change in the way the Wizardry World ran. The Ministry, once a place that tried to prevent Voldemort's return, was now filled with corrupted administrators, all working in the favor of Voldemort. The Aurors, once the protectors of the people, were replaced with Deatheaters. Anyone found to be a traitor to Voldemort were sent to Azkaban. Muggles and Muggle-born wizards were considered as lowly beings – lower class as you can call it. Halfbloods were considered as middle class and the Purebloods were at the top of the social status. Unlike the lower and middle class, there were divisions in the upper class based on wealth and influence.

In just less than a year, the Wizardry World became a monarchy.

"But all that is about to change", she mumbled.

It had been two years ever since she began to plan for this day; two years of research and undercover work as a housemaid in a Deatheater's Manor. She had been able to obtain enough information that would prove necessary for Voldemort's downfall.

She could see the door now. Just a few more steeps. Her heart was pounding with excitement. All her work – everything – was all worth it. In just a few minutes, she'll obtain the power to destroy Voldemort.

For a split second, she had thought that she heard footsteps. She stopped her pace and tried to hear if there were any more. Nothing. A quick scan behind her also provided her with nothing out of the ordinary. It was probably just her imagination.

Or not.

"Crucio."

Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Pain shot through her body, causing her legs to buckle. Kneeling over on the floor, she tried to stand up, but the pain was still raging through her. Quickly, she cased her a look behind her to find a Deatheater, a wand in their hand.

Shit.

In one swift movement, the Deatheater kicked her in the ribs, breaking a rib or two along the way. The kick caused her to fall back and collide with the wall. A loud sickening thud echoed throughout the passage and a small trickle of blood began its trail down the stone wall. The last thing she saw before blacking out was the door. It was right next to her. She was so close… so damn close… but she failed. Everything is lost now and no one will know what she had discovered. The world will now be under Voldemort's control forever…

"I'm so sorry…"

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"Kiss me, m'love…"

The woman smiled seductively as she trailed her hand down his chest. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she ground her hips against his. Every now and then, she would lay butterfly kisses on his face and his neck, but he just sat there, unaffected by her actions. His eyes held no hint of any emotion as he sat there, staring off into the distance.

"M'love… What's wrong?"

In an instant, his hand flew up from the arm of the chair and seized her throat. He began to apply pressure in the area, cutting off her air supply. Her eyes widened in fear as she gasped for breath. His eyes were now focused on her, but they glared at her with annoyance. Taking a moment to watch her struggle for breath, he finally let her go and pushed her off his lap.

"Get out."

"M'love…"

His eyes widened with anger. Why won't this bloody slut just get the fuck out of his manor?!

"I said get the fuck out you little bitch. Or are you just that retarded?!"

"B-But…"

Instantly, he was up from the armchair. He grabbed a handful of her hair, hauling her up from the floor.

"Do you really want to die, my darling?", he sneered. Tears were forming in the girl's eyes, but he didn't care. He was getting pure satisfaction from watching her in pain. Without waiting for a reply, he flung her toward the door and watched her scrambled out of the room. He could've just crucioed her, but he found inflicting physical pain more satisfying then using a wand.

He was in such a foul mood. He just can't believe that – that insufferable old bat made a fool out of him in public! He had no right to test his intelligence AND compare him and his father's stupidity. Him and his father have nothing alike, nor will he ever will. It was only because he was spying for the Dark Lord that he had ever got the position that he has now. He, himself had to work his way up to gain Voldemort's trust. Damn Snape…

"Draco…"

Draco let out a small groan. Not now. After having to deal with Snape and then Pansy, he just wasn't in the mood for some stupid mission. Besides… he didn't feel like doing some task that any other Deatheater can perform. Sometimes, being the right-hand man can be a pain in the ass. The only perks to it was his influence and power.

Knowing that Voldemort does not like to be kept waiting, he rushed before the fireplace and kneeled down before the mist that was beginning to develop in front of him. As the mist thickened, he could see the faint outline of Voldemort's face. After a few seconds, the mist cleared and there before him was Voldemort's head floating in mid air.

"M'lord… What donor do I have to be before your presence?"

"Draco… An intruder was found in the dungeons trying to free one of the prisoners."

Draco frowned at the news. An intruder? In the dungeons?

"I'm rather… interested in how he was able to get through all the wards and Deatheaters there. I'll be putting him in your hands. Find any information that might be useful to us in any means you see fit. Don't disappoint me, Draco."

"Yes m'lord. I will try to find out if there are more people like him."

As soon as he had appeared, his head disappeared before Draco's eyes.

"An intruder, huh?"

A mild hint of interest shone in his eyes as he stared deep into the fire burning in the fireplace. His mind was racing with all the ideas in which he could torture the poor soul until he was satisfied with his work. This might be worth the work after all…

"Hmm… I wonder who it is…"

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A/N: This is the prologue. Hope that you like it!