I'm trying to write another story. Hopefully, this one will come out a bit better than my last attempts. I think it will, so enjoy.
Nights of Blood and Silver
Chapter 1: Tales of Lives
It's was just passed midnight when Severus Snape dropped a vial, hissing in pain as he clutched his arm. Grinding his teeth, he repaired the vial and placed it on a shelf before locking his door. From a trunk in a hidden compartment, Snape slipped his Death Eater robe and mask on, before taking one more look around his private quarters of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Satisfied that everything was in place he flooed himself to Malfoy Manor, current location of the most powerful dark wizard in history.
Snape stepped out of the magnificent fireplace and glanced around him at the splendor of the mansion. Cold, black marble floors reflected the black and silver chandeliers. The midnight black walls had green, silver, and gold curtains hanging in front of floor to ceiling windows. Already, the other Death Eaters were nodding to Lucius Malfoy before creating a semi-circle around a magnificent throne, on which sat a certain man, snake-like creature, one by the name of Lord Voldemort. Snape shivered slightly before clasping hands with Malfoy and taking his place next to him only feet away from the throne. Eventually, the last people were there and they all bowed down to the power in front of them.
A hissing noise escaped the Dark Lord's lips and a giant serpent slithered from behind a curtain and curled its green body around the man's dark boots hidden in the folds of a robe the color of dried blood. The snake lifted its face to the Death Eaters and bared its fangs. Snape inwardly cringed at the snake, its red eyes so similar to its master's molten red slits. Voldemort patted the snake, Nagini, and studied the masked faces around him.
"Remove your masks," he hissed, waiting for them to set their masks aside before continuing. "I have called you here to witness something of great importance. This…being will no doubt help me win this blasted war and triumph over all." Voldemort gestured to Malfoy and Macnair. They excused themselves from the circle and entered a room behind Voldemort's throne.
"Now, please my friends, do not be frightened," the Dark Lord sneered at his choice of words. "This creature is totally under my control." He gave a small, shrill laugh as his followers fidgeted in place.
The Death Eaters jumped back as Malfoy and Macnair dragged a insignifican body swathed in robes across the floor, setting it in front of their lord. Malfoy bent down and took out a small vial and uncorked it. From the glass floated a vile smell that Snape recognized to be an awakening potion. Malfoy poured it into the mouth of the body and rose, taking his place next to Snape. A single drop of sweat dripped from the hair line of Malfoy's blonde head. The bead was soaked into his dark robes, but not before Snape saw it and heard the shaky sigh of one who was never outwardly afraid of anything, until now.
The bundle of robes gave a throaty groan before slowly getting to its knees. The long sheets of cloth slipped to the ground and revealed a man. His size was overwhelming, with shoulders that were twice the size of any regular man. His torso was just as big, and his folded legs bulged with muscle. His face was angular, with beady brown eyes and a scowling, hard mouth. His head was covered with course, dirty brown hair. Even while on his knees, the man held himself with self-importance, and a sense of self-importance. He had once been a very powerful man who had been a leader of many.
"Rise, Targoth," hissed the Dark Lord. The man's roaming eyes focused on the throne as he swiftly rose to his massive height. He stood there in naked assurance of his own power, as the robed fiends around him whispered of what this newcomer could do.
"Welcome, Targoth, to my inner circle. It has been a long time since you have stood before me, my friend." Voldemort almost smiled as he looked down upon his followers and the giant of a man. Targoth nodded his head in greeting.
Voldemort now spoke to his inner circle, "Targoth has come to us from Africa to give provide his services. His father was one of my greatest secret followers before my downfall, and I have now called on his only living son to follow in his footsteps."
"During my first attempt to raise an army, I encountered a man named Valcorth. He had been shunned from his people, the desert wizard nomads of Egypt, because at an early age he caused the death of a fellow village boy. They had been fighting, and the boy was bitten. The next full moon, the boy turned into a rabid, wolf-like creature and killed 2 people in the village. Out of fear, the villagers killed the boy before turning to Valcorth. But Valcorth wasn't a werewolf. He had never changed form during the full moon, so how could he infect someone with a bite?" At this point, Voldemort paused and reached for his wand. From its tip came yards of grey fabric the settled around the shoulders of Targoth. He then continued with his tale
"A scholar, who happened to be a wizard, was intrigued by this mystery. He approached the village elders and asked if he could take the boy with him, who they had locked up in a sealed hut for the safety of the villagers. The elders readily agreed and Valcorth was taken away by the scholar, who never gave his name. The scholar took him to an isolated oasis where Valcorth was given food and water."
"He was then drilled on his parentage by the scholar. All Valcorth knew of his parents was that his mother had come back to her home village and gave birth to him before running off into the night. All she had said of his father was he had been an untamed man in the jungles of Africa. She stayed with the wild man long enough to get with child before fleeing home."
Voldemort paused once again and looked toward Targoth as if expecting him to speak. And he did.
"Let me finish the tale, my lord." He asked. The Dark Lord nodded, and Targoth spoke to the Death Eaters.
"The scholar left my father in a muggle village on the Nile River, while he went to search for my grandfather. His body was found floating in the river not one month after he had left the village. The villagers did not want to take my father in, even though he was only a boy of 9, because they had heard tales from his old village. But the scholar paid well, so they let him stay. But he was not treated kindly. Children taunted him and through sticks and mud at him, hoping that he would change into a wolf. The adults did nothing to stop their children or to help my father."
"He grew into a bitter young man, ridiculed by all around him. He could not leave as there was no place to go. There were many fights between him and the other men. Then, one day, the men went too far. They slipped into his sleeping hut at night and attempted to tie him up. He resisted and the fight that ensued was horrible. As many as twenty men attacked my father, and he fought back with only his ferocity and a small bone knife. He killed one man and dipped down to watch the blood drip out of his foes neck. Then it happened."
"For reasons unknown, the full moon of the night along with the bloodlust of battle caused my father, Valcorth, to show his hidden shape. He turned into a wolf and killed many men, before running off into the desert night. By the next morning, he was human again. His hatred for the muggles that the wizard scholar had left him with burst forth from him, causing my father to change once again into a wolf. He knew he was like no other, except for maybe his elusive father. He could become a wolf at will, using only his hate and the need for blood to spur the change."
Valcorth paused in his account of his father's life. The Death Eaters shifted and glanced at each other, nervous as to the outcome of this meeting. Severus scanned the Dark Lord's form, looking for clues of his plans.
"My father grew up with no magical education, which did not seem to be an issue, because he had been almost a squib to begin with. After moving from place to place, north from Egypt all the way to Eastern Europe, he stumbled across a village, in France, of conventional werewolves. Recognizing them for what they were, he became a part of them. By the age of 40, he had become their undisputed leader. They knew him for a superior race and worshipped the ground he trod upon. While in London, he met my mother, a beautiful, talented, pureblood witch."
"He left his werewolf pack and moved to an isolated village in the north-western corner of England, where he married my mother and had a child. Myself. My father never let go of his hate for muggles, and my mother added to that, a hatred of mudbloods. I grew up in a sheltered environment of mostly werewolves and their kin. Then, the war came. Wizards and witches screamed for the immediate eradication of werewolves and their kind. My father had once again become the leader of a pack. An extremely large, influential pack. Our village was ransacked and burned. My father took my mother and me to Germany, where there was a law against the harming of werewolves. He then went back to fight. My father joined to elite ranks of our Lord Voldemort where he died."
"My mother raised me to believe that we were above muggles and mudbloods. I married a pureblood witch who was the daughter of my mother's friend. When she died, I came back with my family to avenge my father's death. My wife was taken away from me and put to death, but my daughter was kidnapped by the Ministry of Magic. The last of my pack members tried to rescue her, and a terrible fight ensued. I believe her to be dead, because no one survived that night. Since that day 3 years ago, I have been locked up in a special wizarding prison for werewolves. I was put there because of who my father was, and because of a condition I cannot change. Lord Voldemort has released me, and I am here to finish my father's task and take my revenge."
Targoth swiftly walked to the throne and went to one knee. "I swear my life to you, my lord. Take it and do as you will." Voldemort smiled his sharp teeth, and his Death Eaters shifted nervously at the coldness that radiated from it.
"This tale has taken long in the telling. You will hear of how this man will help me rule the magical world, when I summon you next time. Go."
The robed followers swiftly departed, leaving only Voldemort, Nagini, and a very smug looking werewolf alone in a darkening room.
Should I continue? Yes or no. Read and Review! Thanx