Treachery At It's Best

by azuredragon92

Author's Note:

Hello, all the peeps that actually read this! This is a rather random thing, you know. The idea that plays around in your head at school all day, and you just can't wait to get home and write it? Yeah, well, after some minor (Major, heh) changes, It's polished a bit, but it's still shaky. So, don't sue me if it sucks. Oh, and this chapter is just the prologue, but it really helps to read it. Kind of gives the story a whole motive...

Disclaimer:

I own nothing, and I sure don't have the mental compatibly to own the whole Hp thing, heh.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside the Riddle House, the winds were howling. Rain splattered against the windows. The night sky was an endless sea of black, and no stars were visible. The only thing in the night sky beside the lightning was the moon, tonight a full orb, hanging wearily over the village of Little Hangleton.

Inside, the atmosphere was not much different. The room was bathed in shadow, and the only light was coming from the lonely fire burning in the hearth. Meager, yes, but nonetheless effective as it warmed the small room. Despite the fire's warmth, however, the woman beside the window shivered slightly, and wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

As she looked out onto the full moon, her bright blue eyes glittered in the light it gave off. She sighed, and winced as lightning struck the ground in front of the window. The curly hair that fell around her shoulders was the color of autumn leaves, and it too shone in the moonlight flooding through the grimy glass.

The Mark on her left forearm started to burn. As the heat seared throughout her entire arm and into her shoulder, she heard the door open behind her. Gritting her teeth against the agony, she turned in time to see a tall man with greasy black hair and a hooked nose enter the room.

"The Dark Lord requests an audience," he said shortly.

The woman shifted her gaze around, and after several seconds of silence, said: "Yes Severus, I feel it."

She pulled up her left sleeve to reveal a newly administered darkened brand, a skull eating a snake. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"The initiation task is never an easy one. Do not stutter when you speak, do not show any emotion. Do not act surprised at what you are being asked to do. These attribute weakness. Always address him 'My Lord', and do not speak until asked to," Severus said, and stepped away from the door to allow the woman to pass into the hallway. She nodded, and stood on the landing, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness house's interior.

The door shut behind them, and Severus led the way down the dark hallway. They walked in silence, and not even the shuffle of their feet or the swishing of their robes was heard on the wood floor, for the dust was thick. The darkness and the musty smell of the wood enveloped them.

Soon, they entered another hallway on the ground floor. It was long, and dark, but there was a faint light was coming from the door at the very end. Low voices muttered incomprehensible things behind it, and the hiss of a snake was clearly heard from within the room it led to.

The woman braced herself, and proceeded down the long hall with her head down. After what seemed like an eternity, they were within five feet of the door. From in front of her, she heard Severus mutter an incantation to make them known. Almost instantly, the person inside stopped talking and dismissed the other within the room.

A tall, aristocratic man came out of the door, holding a snake-headed cane. His straight, white-blonde hair fell past his shoulders in a graceful elegance, and his gait suggested one that was respected no matter where he went. As he passed her, the woman bowed her head as a sign of respect.

"Enter," came a rasping voice from within the room, with the slightest impatience. Severus motioned for her to follow, and opened the door quickly and silently.

When he entered the room, she followed and was greeted by a large, circular room. There was a frayed rug splayed across the rotting carpet, and armchairs were scattered here and there, sometimes accompanied by end-tables. In front of the hearth, a tall chair rested, it's back facing her. In the armchair closest to this, a small rat sat, looking at her curiously.

"You may go, Snape," Said the same rasping voice from behind the chair, and at once the man beside her swept away. She kept her head bowed and stopped her chin from trembling.

"On one knee," commanded the voice again, almost lazily. Immediately, the women dropped to her knee, head still stooped.

A long snake moved from somewhere next to her, and she stopped herself from jumping. The snake, sensing her anticipation, coiled itself around her left wrist, and her arm seared worse then ever. Ignoring the pain, she focused her attention to the voice speaking from behind the chair, in time to hear it start to speak.

"Eirian Heddwyn, is it? Well, well," the chair turned, and the hem of a robe brushed the ground. The person sitting the chair stood up, and stopped in front of her. As he lifted her chin with one of his sickly white hands, pain yet again shot through her arm, but this more unbearable than before. Eirian tried to rid her face and eyes of all emotion, but she knew the Dark Lord was a successful Legimens. "Afraid, I see? Very good, you have every reason to be. But such a pretty thing. Pity I couldn't put it to other uses..."

Voldemort let her head drop again, and slowly surveyed the snake coiled around her wrist. "Ah, I see Nagini has taken a liking to you...It seems she has chosen for a very special task. Your beauty will come in handy for this one, as will your strong personality and will. A very likeable initiation, albeit bit easy. Do not expect it though, I have few I would give this task.

The Order of the Phoenix, a support group set to disband my forces, have one in their employ that would greatly harm my chances of recruiting a certain group of people. You will bring me the werewolf, Remus Lupin. He is working to set the lycanthropes against me, and we just can't have that...Bring him to me, and you will be added to the ranks."

If Eirian had not been trying to suppress emotion, she might have gasped. She stopped herself at the last second, and instead bowed at the waist.

"Aye, My Lord," she said, and her Northern Irish accent rang through the otherwise silent room. The rat on the chair, she observed, shifted slightly, but stiffened almost immediately.

"Go now," Commanded Voldemort, and he sat again in the tall chair, swiveling to face the flames. Eirian stood, and walked into the hallway with her head still bowed. Almost as soon as she closed the door behind her, she heard the voices from before starting up again, and hurriedly sped out of the passage. Snape was standing guard at the end of the long hall, and grasped his left arm as she passed, before turning down the same dark way she had just left.

Too paralyzed to do anything else, Eirian mounted the stairs to return to the small room she had been given for her stay. He wanted her to bring in a werewolf? A werewolf! And this assignment was easy...