Chapter Two

"Headmaster?"

Albus Dumbledore, ex-Headmaster of Hogwarts, smiled grimly, his joyful twinkle gone from his eyes, as he turned to his ex-student. "Yes, Hermione?"

Hermione Granger held up a tattered book, having discovered it hidden in a dark corner of their prison. "Have you read this?"

Blue eyes faced the young witch, "What have you found?" Albus valued the young woman'sknowledge. Alongside their older researcher, Hermione thrived upon books. And everyone knew when she called for attention, it was useful.

"It's an old journal reciting an ancient ritual to call forth theonly true Dark Lord, Darkness' powerful ally."

"Ritual?" Several prisoners were quite intrigued. It would also explain why they couldn't defeat their enemy.

"Yes. The notes say Lady Circe and Mistress Morgana had been the first and only loyal followers to never betray their Lord."

"Explain the ritual."

Hermione's brow furrowed as she squinted her brown eyes to read the faded writing of ancient languages. "The invoked Lord required many things. A sacrificial marking of white chalk, calling of Nature's corners. A pure soul of innocence defiled in all humanly ways. A willing parting of life's blood, until healed. And darkness in which he must enter."

She continued without being provoked, rubbing at her eyes, "I'm surprised one actually survived that amount of bloodshed. But was a weakness that proved their willingness to serve and please their Master. The darkness could be a dungeon or a shadowy, candle lit room. The Dark Lord rules the shadows, thrives there."

"And the innocent?" Images had sprang to mind. None wanted them prove as truth.

But Hermione was forced to. "It was Riddle's niece, or Voldemort's cousin. His dad's brother's daughter. Voldemort went to her home. He kidnapped her. He took her first. Raped her. Then handed her to his followers. They let her bleed dry upon the sacrificing markers. She was only five."

Tears fell freely. Not one eye remained dry. But Hermione refused to quit. "After invoking his new ally, Voldemort thought he was untouchable. Even desired to rule his so-called Master's realm. When the seers prophesized his downfall, his arrogance was the true defeat. He destroyed the two prophesized families, only to lose his powers for a few years after the deaths of the entire Potter family when his spell backfired from their only child, Harry Potter. But in the end he was given a second chance. A sort of forgiveness. He used that forgiveness well, finally destroying his only rival to power before the boy was eleven. It seems he had a few spies who spotted his rival outside protective wards."

"Which explains many things. But not what he plans now." Albus had not forgotten that call so long ago nor had the rest of the magical world. He had hoped that young Harry would have been safe with his only living relatives before coming to Hogwarts. Instead, Harry had been ambushed one morning on his way home for summer vacation by Voldemort and his most loyal Death Eaters. No one knew this until the wards shrilled an alarm of Harry's death; Albus had tied the wards to Harry's life energy as well as his aunt's.

"There's a tattered scroll here." Remus Lupin, the Order's second researcher, held up a yellowed rolled parchment. It had rolled from the same corner Hermione had found the journal. The cracked ink carved out a single name. "It's written by Mistress Morgana."

Albus nodded, distracted with these new thoughts. "Read it, Remus."

Remus' voice rang clear through the dungeon as his mind raced to translate the ancient writings to English, "To the successor, Follow these rules. Circe was my predecessor. She was faithful, even in death. I am next. Though I know my death follows at the sword of my son, as I wish and as my Lord will deem. As well as by Merlin's power from beyond the grave, as I have destroyed the scion of Light. Heed this. Our Master, our Lord, is powerful. Ancient. Fail him, you lose power. But touch the Marked, you lose your soul. He always knows. No secret can hide from his gaze. Do not try. Or else it's your head. The Shadow Realm thrives upon the darknesss. One mistake at your hand and they will reveal it to him. Remember. Mistress Morgana."

"Was that all, Remus?"

The hazel-eyed man shook his head, "There are notes, handwritten. The Shadow Realm accepts its allies' enemies. It's a positive technique of instant death."

"Not..not how?" A wizard stuttered in fear.

"No. But," Remus inhaled deeply, shoving the scroll into his tattered robes, "we may soon discover."

Hermione copied his movements with the tattered book, knowing her ex-Professor had sniffed out their captors. "Headmaster?" She couldn't hide the tremble.

"Stand tall. All may look well soon."

A door creaked open, spilling in more candle light, overshadowing the slight few within the dungeons. Several Death Eaters entered, wands raised, "Get up! Time to move!"