Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter. JKR does.

Chapter 1: Beginnings

(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

Voldemort let go of the girl's shoulder as he Apparated into a graveyard. Not just any graveyard, but the graveyard where so much of his history had happened.

He watched as she staggered away, and shivered. She wasn't wearing robes, of course, just those ridiculous Muggle clothes.

Her performance in her house had been exemplary. She had no control, of course, for her magic was that of an untrained underage witch. She had let her fear and anger take control of her.

Now, she turned to look around. Her eyes were wide, with fear or eagerness he couldn't tell.

He gave a mental call inside his head, the call that would activate the Dark Mark engraved on his Death Eater's arms.

And then they appeared.

The girl gave a yell of fright. She no longer looked as if she had an aura that said: 'I am powerful, obey me!'. She just looked like a teenager scared out of her wits.

He felt no pity. He expected better.

"My friends," he hissed at the Death Eaters gathered round. "I have brought you here today to greet the newest one of our ranks."

They turned to stare at the girl. She backed away against a gravestone, arms wrapped tight around her.

"Helle," he said to her.

"That's not my name."

Her answer was little more than a defiant whisper.

Lord Voldemort nodded thoughtfully, and turned back to his Death Eaters.

"She does not, of course know who she is, or even of the world of magic. To hide her in the Muggle World was perhaps not the best of ideas, but I am sure Snape and Bella would have thought better if they had had more time..."

No one said anything. He wondered if they had detected his sarcastic tone at the end. He doubted it. Nobody expected the Dark Lord to be sarcastic. It was too human.

"Magic isn't real," the girl said unexpectedly. "Everyone knows that."

Now he definitely heard a few snickers.

"Oh?" he inquired of her. "Then how would you explain killing poor Wormtail without even touching him?"

There was a sudden silence. The Death Eaters had never liked Wormtail, but they still took the death of one of their ranks hard.

As long as the person was not a traitor, of course.

"I am waiting," he snarled suddenly at the girl. "For your reply."

She said nothing. Probably, he thought, still afraid. He couldn't understand why she was afraid. She hadn't been scared when she was killing Pettigrew, or before he had taken her here.

Ignoring her, he turned back his Death Eaters. "The turning process will take a while, but eventually she will be with us, and will help in the defeat of those Muggle-loving fools on the other side."

He had the impression that if he had been a little less intimidating, there could have been cheering.

"Now go," he ordered.

They Disapparated at once.

"Who are you?" the girl asked.

He turned to look at her. "I? I am Lord Voldemort. Known as the Dark Lord to my followers and You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to other idiots."

Then the biggest shock of all came.

Nagini, his snake, slithered out of nowhere. He hissed a greeting at her, and she hissed back.

Then, to his surprise, the girl started conversing with Nagini as well. The conversation went a little like this:

:Hallo, aren't you a pretty snake:

:I? I am the greatest snake of all. And who are you? The Dark One's daughter:

:How would I know? I don't think so, though.:

:You probably are. You can talk to me.:

:I like talking to snakes.:

:I dislike conversing with people.:

:Am I offending you:

:No, of course not. You are not people.:

:I thought I was human.:

:Of course you are. But you are different than anyone else I have ever conversed with.:

:How:

:You are female. I know of no other Parselmouths that are female. It is very enjoyable, speaking with one of the human race who is actually intelligent.:

:What's a Parselmouth:

:A Parselmouth is a human who can talk to snakes.:

At this point, Voldemort decided to interrupt.

:Thank you, Nagini, but that will be enough. My daughter needs to be shown where the place where she will now be staying.:

:Of course. And girl- do not fear the Dark One. He is quite nice, underneath his layers of skin.:

With that, she slithered off into the darkness.

"Biased little serpent," said Voldemort, his voice disgusted.

The girl stifled a laugh.

(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

Harry Potter woke up. He wiped sweat off his forehead with the bedsheet, frowning.

He had had another dream. It had been a long time, for he knew Voldemort had sealed his mind against Harry's entering it. But he'd had another one.

He pressed his knuckles against his face. If only he could remember! There had been a girl, and a snake, and he had been talking to someone...

Giving up, Harry rolled out of bed and got dressed. Pulling a sweater over his head, he went downstairs, to the Burrow's kitchen.

"Harry!" exclaimed someone. "You're up!"

He nodded. "What time is it?"

"Eleven," said one of his friends, Hermione. "You slept in."

"I guess so," he said uncomfortably, and sat down in a chair.

He had felt distanced and awkward ever since leaving Hogwarts. His first few weeks at the Dursley's had been uneventful. He had stayed there longer than he had planned to, past his seventeenth birthday. He had not wanted to leave. He hated the Dursley's, but their house was still a reminder of his childhood, unhappy that it was, but better than the here and now.

But he had eventually gone to stay with the Weasleys. Fleur and Bill's wedding had taken place already, but he had been welcomed.

Now, though, he was itching to leave, itching to go and find the Horcruxes.

Mrs. Weasley pushed a bowl of soup his way. "Eat, Harry dear," she said, and busily bustled off.

Hermione and Ron sat down at the table as well.

"When are we leaving?" Ron asked abruptly.

Harry stared at his spoon. "I dunno. Soon."

"I think," said Hermione. "That today would be good. There's nothing really to wait for, you know."

Harry ate his soup, not listening.

"Harry," Ron began uncertainly. "Listen mate, are you all right? You haven't been talking."

"Yes," Hermione added. "Harry, we ought to go now. It's as good a time as any."

They fell silent, worriedly watching his soup disappear. He finished it, and sat up straight. "Okay. Let's go."

Grinning faintly at their stunned expressions, he went to go get his stuff

When upstairs, he pulled his robes on over the Muggle clothes, and stuck his wand in a pocket. As he was staring at his trunk, wondering how he was going to take that, Hermione appeared.

She was holding a backpack that looked rather strange. It was lopsided, bright orange and had sparks dancing across it.

It didn't have a zipper.

"Here," Hermione said hurriedly, thrusting the backpack his way. "You can put your stuff in there, with ours. Ron and mine. Just touch the sparks."

Harry tugged cautiously at a spark. The spark glowed white, then the backpack split in half, revealing several pockets.

Hermione levitated his trunk and broomstick into the backpack. They shrank, soaring neatly into a pocket.

Then Hermione refolded the backpack and swung it over her shoulders. "Ready?" she asked.

Harry nodded, then rather awkwardly squeezed her shoulder.

"You're a wonder, Hermione," he told her.

She blushed, and they went downstairs.

(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

Chris curled up on a chair. She was unsure of where exactly she was. The man called Voldemort had not said anything to her except the sentence:

"This is my house, find a place to sleep."

She had gone to the nearest piece of furniture, and had stayed awake the whole night, aware of chills sliding down her spine.

She didn't know where Voldemort had gone, and she didn't really care.

She wanted to go home, to a familiar place. She felt scared and guilty and angry and nervous. Scared for what would happen to her. Guilty because she had killed someone. It terrified her, that she had squeezed her fist and a man had died. Terrified her that at the time, nothing had been in her mind except the desire to kill.

What is happening to me? she wondered, scraping at her skin. Why is this happening?

She badly wanted to wake up, to find that this had all been a nightmare. Then she could go downstairs and laugh with her parents about the snake-man called Voldemort, and they would indeed tell her that she was their child of course, not his.

It was like a bad replay of a Star Wars movie.

The rotted red covering of the chair stank as badly as anything in this house. She wondered if anyone really did live here.

She heard a noise, and stiffened. The creaking of the floorboards filled her with apprehension.

Voldemort strode into the room, robes billowing around.

"Ah, Helle," he said, noticing her. "You are awake."

"That's obvious," she snapped, then bit her tongue.

His eyes narrowed, but nothing happened to her.

"Are you hungry?" he inquired of her.

She nodded, and to her surprise a plate of sandwiches appeared on thin air. A glass of orange liquid appeared next to it.

She began eating, having had nothing to eat since the day before. It was hard to believe that only yesterday she had been going home, going to see her parents again...

Losing her appetite at the thought, she stopped eating.

"The loo," said Voldemort. "Is over there."

Chris got to her feet, blushing, It sounded strange to have such an obviously evil person talking to her about bathrooms.

Nevertheless, she went.

As she walked back into what she had decided was the living room, a sudden reserve of mind came over her.

Perhaps, perhaps if there really was magic, couldn't they cause her parents to be back from the dead?

(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

Harry, Ron and Hermione stood shivering outside a pub, having just been thrown out.

"What next?" Hermione asked despairingly. "We have to find something."

Harry had guided them to Borgin and Burkes, the place where Dumbledore had shown him where Tom Riddle had worked. He had attempted to track where he had gone next, but to no avail.

He supposed that if Dumbledore couldn't, neither could he.

The day was cold and rainy, even though it was August, and even their thick robes let the cold through.

"Well," said Hermione. "If anyone would know what Voldemort- oh don't jump, Ron- was doing it would be a Death Eater, right?"

"I doubt it," Ron retorted. "You-Know-Who doesn't trust them."

"It would have to be one of his first followers," Harry answered thoughtfully. "Who were with him at Hogwarts, and were the first to join the Death Eaters afterwards. And if they were loyal enough, Voldemort could have told them a lot more than he usually would have."

"So basically," Hermione said, sighing. "We have to find an old, loyal Death Eater and question him? Or her?"

"How do we know which Death Eater? And we can't just walk up to them and say, 'Hey, tell me all You-Know-Who's secrets!'" Ron pointed out.

"I think I know which Death Eater, though," Harry told them. "Rodolphus Lestrange, I know from the Pensieve that he was with Voldemort at school, and that he was one of the three that tried to find Voldemort by torturing the Longbottoms into insanity. "

"Oh, great," Ron said. "So we go and kidnap Rodolphus Lestrange now, right?"

"Well," Hermione replied desperately. "Unless you have a better idea."

"Yeah! How about we just try to not kill ourselves? Or get ourselves 'tortured into insanity'?"

"Ron," Harry told him. "If we don't find the rest of Voldemort's Horcruxes that'll happen anyway."

"Not to me," Ron said rebelliously, but fell silent after that.

"Okay," Hermione said brightly. "Now let's start planning!"

(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)