Harry Potter and the Heir of Gryffindor

Hey everyone! Sorry about the wait! 20 days, how could you all survive… in case you are wondering, that was a joke? But anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Oh yeah…. EVERYONE GO BACK AND RE-READ THE STORY! I EDITED ALOT! PLEASE PEOPLE, YOU WILL MISS SOME PLOT-POINTS! Well, not really, but the transition into relationships…. (P.S Maya is still on Vacation, so she sent me a postcard to say re-do my chapters!)

Wow, took me a whole hour to type this up… that's really short. It usually takes me days

Now, onto the story!

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Wouldn't call it 'Paradise'

A large building swam into his field of vision. Tumbling over antique tombstones, he made his way, partially dragged by the hooded figure in front of him.

They came to a pause in front of a large tombstone. Like an angel of Death, it loomed over the decaying remains of Tom Riddle Sr. "Remember, Draco," hissed the man who had been dragging him, turning his young charge around to face him. The boy's platinum hair was dirty from the month without washing. His eyes hollowed from the days without sleeping. His stomach grumbled from the week without food. Cuts and bruises riddled his body. All in all, Draco Alexander Malfoy looked the worst he had in his 17 years of life. "Do NOT, under any circumstances, speak unless you are spoken to! Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor," mumbled Draco, rubbing his left arm, were the Dark-Mark burned black against his pastel skin. They were getting close; he could feel it.

Turning around, Severus Snape continued on, keeping his firm hold on his comrade's arm. Reaching the doors to the derelict old manor, Severus released his charge and rapped on the door sharply three times. The door creaked on its rusty hinges as the lock was released, and the door opened.

"Snape," sneered a cloaked figure, standing in the doorway, "and my favourite nephew." Stepping out into the dying rays of sunlight, the Death-Eater threw back her hood, revealing the lidded eyes and bony cheeks of Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco shuffled his feet nervously. Severus, however, ignored Bellatrix and regained his grip on the young Malfoy's arm, dragging him through the halls to Voldemort's Lair.

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In the centre of the drawing room at the old Riddle Manor, sat an ancient throne. It wasn't any old run-of-the-mill throne. It was Voldemort's throne. And he made sure no one forgot it. Nor the fact that it once belonged to one of the four founders.

Yes, this throne truly belonged to none other than Salazar Slytherin.

The chair was made up of seven snakes, made out of the purest silver, that were coiled all around the back and sides. Their emerald eyes (literally emeralds) glistened maliciously in the light from the green-blue torches lining the dank, dark room.

The door to this room creaked open, and a sliver of light illuminated the man- no wait- monster sitting on the magnificent throne. A rat-like nose poked into the room, followed by and equally rat-like man. A 12-foot diamond python had herself curled about his shoulders, her head sitting proudly atop his stringy hair.

"Aah, Wormtail," said the ma-onster sitting on the throne, in a deadly hiss, "Bring Nagini to me. The meeting will start momentarily." The rat-like man, Wormtail, gently uncoiled the python from his body, scuttling the last few steps over to his master.

"Here, My Lord," he whispered, passing the snake over, bowing down on his knees and kissing the hem of his robes.

"Up, Wormtail," Voldemort commanded, and Wormtail complied, "Arm." Wormtail shakily extended his left arm and pulled the sleeve to his elbow. The Dark-Mark stood out even in the dim lighting. Voldemort's mouth twisted into a cruel, lipless smirk. Grasping Wormtail's arm with his bony hand, he not so gently pressed a skeleton-like finger onto the Mark, drawing a scream of pain from the traitorous, backstabbing, murderous, slimy, as- (A/N Sorry, I got a little carried away there… can you tell I don't like Pettigrew?). Wormtail crumpled to the ground before he straightened up and moved to the wall of the room, waiting for the aforementioned meeting to start.

The door of the room creaked open, and 30 or-so cloaked figured swept in, forming a semicircle around Slytherin's throne. 5 blood-red masks in the first row symbolised Voldemort's inner circle.

"Welcome, my friendsss…" Voldemort hissed, spreading his arms wide. A collective chill ran around the room. He seemed too happy.

"As we all know," he continued clasping his hands behind his back and turning away from his Death-Eaters, "I haven't yet been able to…congratulate… my faithful Death-Eater, who managed to murder the one man who stood in my way of capturing Potter." He spat the word 'Potter' as if it were a piece of kneazle poop stuck to his shoe.

"Severus, I know you are here," he hissed, eyes narrowed to slits. He surveyed the group standing before him, until he spotted him. Sliding his way to the front of the room, Severus Snape dreaded what the Dark Lord would do.

"Severus," spat Voldemort, regarding the man with the stark white mask. Bowing to his master, Severus never took his eyes off him.

"Yes, my Lord."

"I seem to remember telling you of my plan," Voldemort stated, pacing in front of the Death-Eaters, "and that you agreed to it whole-heartedly."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Then why," asked Voldemort, his voice rising with every word, "did you disregard them, doing the deed I left for Draco Malfoy?" By the end of his speech, most of the white-masked-Death-Eaters were starting to feel a little sorry for Snape.

"My Lord, I apologize. I-" Severus started, only to be cut off by his master.

"Snape, I do not tolerate insolence!" the Dark Lord bellowed, fire blazing in his eyes, "Crucio!"

Snape crumpled to the ground, tossing and turning, flailing his limbs, fighting off the screams he refused to produce. Voldemort flicked his wand, leaving Severus panting, crumpled on the ground. Turning to face his audience, Voldemort hissed, "Draco Malfoy."

Draco started. 'Oh sh-ugar honey iced Butterbeer,' he thought, stepping out of the half circle. Pushing himself through the sea of masks, he made his way to the front of the room. Voldemort's face lightened and the room shivered.

"Come, Mister Malfoy," he said sweetly, (A/N Ok, I just freaked myself out. Did I just write sweetly? I am losing it… I meant as persuasive as Voldy can sound…) beckoning him forward. Draco came as close as he dared and bowed.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Since you have failed my previous task, I have set you a new one," Voldemort announced, lifting his head proudly.

"And that would be, my Lord?"

Voldemort flicked his wand and Draco tried not to gasp out as a sharp pain rushed through his cheek. Looking down, he saw drips of his own blood splattered on the stone floor.

"Do not speak unless I tell you to!" spat Voldemort, "Now boy. As you failed one murder, I think an appropriate task would be to make a successful murder. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my Lord," Draco said to the puddle of blood. Looking up, he saw Voldemort smiling cruelly.

"Kill… Severus Snape," ordered Voldemort, and Draco gasped. 'How could he make me do that? The man saved my life, and he wants me to murder him?' thought Draco. This was no time to panic.

"No," Draco spat, surprised at his bravery. 'Gryffindor bravery,' he thought, recoiling at the notion.

"No? We will just see then. Crucio."

Draco almost laughed. 17 years with Lucius Malfoy had made him immune to such a curse. "Not going to work," said Draco, smirking his trademark smirk. It was a bad idea. Anger overcame Voldemort's features. He lifted his wand to say those two words that could, and most defiantly would (he wasn't Harry-bloody-Potter), end his life.

"Advada Ked-" Voldemort began, pointing his wand at the youngest Malfoy's chest. But Snape was too quick. Flicking his wrist, his wand shot out of a holster on his forearm. Thinking quick, he performed the first spell that came to mind and aimed it at Draco's shoe. Latching himself to the object, (It would have been hilarious if they were in different circumstances) he felt a tug behind his navel and was soon spinning off away from that gods-forsaken place.

Voldemort roared, his fists shaking in anger. "Find them!" he ordered, his Death-Eaters already swarming towards the door, "Find them alive and bring them back to me! Let me be the one to finish those traitors!"

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The doors swung shut, leaving one last, solitary Death-Eater. His long, slim fingers slid his crimson mask of his face, as he knelt before his Lord. Voldemort looked down upon the man, a smile twisting his features, making him resemble a grotesque pug. Then he started to laugh. A bone-chilling laugh, causing even one of his most faithful Death-Eater's hairs to stand on end.

"The traitors will not spoil my mood," he hissed, his smile (if you could call it that) still in place, "Tonight, you shall execute my plan,"

Voldemort leaned down close to his Death-Eater's face.

"Tonight, Weasley."

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OOOOOOHHHHH im evil! An evil little cliffy that will be answered if you all GIVE BE REVIEWS!So like it? Hate it? Tell me, your help will go a long way.

(Oh yea, pugs are 'grotesque' anyway, so :P)

Just like to say thanks to the 3 people who reviewed!

fake-truth86, SlayerKitty00 (as always! Thank-you!), and PrettyPrincessRen

Read, Review and Recommend!

Lots of Love and Cookies,

Maddie xox