Disclaimer: The characters and the universe of Harry Potter belong to J.K Rowling. No disrespect is intended. This story is written for sheer enjoyment. No profit is being made from it. The story itself is mine.
The Puppet's Master
Prologue
The storm-force gales whipped her hair into her eyes as she stood at her balcony. The new moon all but visible, it's great blackness more pronounced than its argent hues ever were, beckoned to her as a lover across time and space. One word whispered it's way into her mind.
'Soon.'
Laughing as only an innocent can, she flung her head back and raised her arms to the ebon orb. She embraced the wonder that is the night. She embraced the new moon in all its dark glory. She embraced the end of waiting, for what she did not know.
'Soon.'
The wind suddenly and completely died. For a short eternity, all the world held it's collective breath. A loud crack rent the stillness of the night. And above the somber castle, the new moon seeped red.
'It is Time.'
Gasping, the seventeen year old jolted upright in her bed. So many nights she had dreamed such a similar dream. So many nights she had awoken in such a similar way. Something tonight, however, was different.
Quickly jumping out of bed, she threw on her dressing gown and shoved her feet into her slippers. She ran quickly to her balcony and threw open the doors. Upon stepping outside into the cool night air, she looked heaven-wards and grasped the balcony rail for support.
High above her, as in her dream, the new moon shown it's raven light. High above her, as in her dream, the new moon was tinged crimson.
She quickly stumbled back into her chambers, and collapsed into the nearest chair.
What on earth is going on here? She wondered. Hogwarts, A History never mentioned anything about abnormal lunar phenomena.
As she sat musing, a painful tingling began about two inches above her naval. She quickly drew up her nightshirt and was unable to stifle a scream.
There, clear as day, was a mark reading 'αγαπημένος'
Further Hogwarts history was made that night as Hermione Granger, Head Girl, Gryffindor Know-It-All, and Best Friend of the Boy-Who-Lived fainted from shock for the first time.
The storm-force gales whipped his robes around his form as he quickly hurried across the moor. The new moon all but visible, its great blackness more pronounced than it's argent hues ever were, demanded his presence across time and space. One word whispered it's way into his mind.
'Soon.'
Shaking as only the guilty can, he flung himself upon the ground and groveled at the robes of one who stood commanding under the ebon orb. He choked on the terror that is the night. He trembled before the new moon in all its dark glory. He dreaded the end of waiting, for what he was afraid he knew all too well.
'Soon.'
The wind suddenly and completely died. For a short eternity, all the world held it's collective breath. A loud crack rent the stillness of the night. And above the silent moors, the new moon seeped red.
'It is Time.'
In a nondescript house in the English countryside, a monster sat deep in meditation and whimpered in terror.
This same monster who had caused such fear and pain to others; this same monster that had cruelly laughed at that pain and fear; this same monster that had sought to re-shape the known world into his own twisted image of rightness, now sat immobilized by his own fear.
This same monster, who most have forgotten was once but a man with a man's dreams and a man's fears, once again knew a man's fear as his master made his presence known.
Jerking back the control he now realized he never had, Tom Riddle cried dry tears and knew true terror for the first time in years.
The safest place in the Wizarding world lay mostly sleeping in the dead of the night. It's inhabitants secure in the knowledge that the Headmaster and the Boy-Who-Lived would be able to protect them from any evil that may seek to infiltrate the castle walls. After all, there was no more powerful wizard in the world than Albus Dumbledore. And Harry Potter had emerged victorious from the Dark Lord time and time again. Yes, there was surely no place safer to be than Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Even so, deep in the bowels of the Scottish castle known rather unassumingly as 'Hogwarts', black eyes sprang open showing an unquenchable fire and a pallid face split in an unholy grin.
Oh yes. It is Time.
AN: αγαπημένος translates to 'beloved' in Greek, according to