Chapter Eight

/"For years I've searched. For years I've suffered. When I found my freedom you snatched it away. But not before I learned of true power." A lone male stood at the very end of the Great Hall, not quite entering it, remaining hidden. Because of his concealed position his words never travelled further than his ears. Narrowed eyes stared at the standing Professors, congratulating the graduating students. "You thought you could keep me in line. I've found sources revealing great power. And tomorrow I will search for them. You will soon see why it is not good to cross me. You and your pathetic world."/

/"My Lord, we have found the words of Circe. The others have discovered the location of the scrolls of Morgana. And your traitor within Hogwarts has discovered the Book of Shadows."

"Very good. You all shall be rewarded well. Once my traitor arrives with the book I will need the items to be gathered."

"Yes, my Lord."/

/"My loyal followers are putting the final touches to the ritual. But there is something missing, the blood of an innocent. And you are the one that will be providing me the location I need."

Bloody hands held up their captive's head as the male struggled. "No!" His hoarse cry caused his captor to laugh.

"Yes, you will. Give in. After all, Muggles have no true protection against magic." Eyes were forced to connect as he ripped through the Muggle's mind. He ignored the pained cries as he remembered the gathered thoughts. "Yes, Father. She shall do excellently."

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr. dropped his dying father to unforgiving stone. Staring down in disgust at the flowing blood, smirking. "Yes. She will. Sadly, you'll never hear her lovely screams."/

/"We have arrived. There are two children within. Bring them both alive and unharmed. Do what you will to the others." Masked followers gleefullystormed the large house. Their Lord smirked, cackling as the torturous screams began. "Such sweet death come to visit."

Almost an hour later, his followers had returned to his side with two small struggling figures, "The children."

Pale fingers stroked the soft cheek of the girl, rubbing the tears further into her skin, "Yes. She will do perfectly."

"And the boy, my Lord?"

He turned to face the trembling boy. Both children were around eight years of age, innocent and sweet looking. He could also see that the boy was desperately trying not to cry. Hands pulled the boy close, lifting him into a strong embrace. "Very sweet." He dared to take a taste, "Yes, very sweet."

The boy whimpered, "Please."

"Bring him along. Keep him one of the rooms. Fed and healthy. Allow one House elf to be his. He will service us well as celebration for our success." The boy whimpered, trying to pull away. "Shush, boy. You shall remain safe if you listen carefully. Be a good boy and you'll live." The boy cried, sobbing into one of the follower's shoulder's as he was handed over. The Dark Lord turned to the bawling female held by another follower, "And you will please us immensely when we return."/

/"With an offering of corrupted youth I call to the Dark Gods of Shadows, Death, and Chaos."

Kneeling at the girl's head, Tom eyed the chalky drawing, making sure everything was prepared. Three red candles burned brightly at the cornersof the large white triangle, placed inside a perfect circle. Each corner represented the legendary Dark forces of nature. Each he hoped to fully control. And in the middle of the drawing lay the deathly still body of his defiled Father's niece. She bled heavily from fatal wounds, her body slowly cooling with time.

"I beseech your entrance. I offer my alliance for your power." Tom pulled a small dagger from his robes, fumbling in the meagre light.

He hated not being able to fully see. But the ritual called for darkness, a room with no windows or cracks. And now he was feeling the effects of an air-tight room, with only one escape, apparating. But he forged onwards, slicing deeply into his wrists. His hold slippery, though he succeeded and willingly bled.

With no fresh air and heavy bleeding, Tom began to feel weak, "I beseech thee!"

His weakened plea barely rang in his ears but worked as grey smoke spiralled from the ceiling to the floor, allowing something to move into his blurry sight. "Who asks for me?"

Just before he succumbed to the darkness, Tom was able to say three words, "Your servant. Voldemort."/

/"Such loyal followers. So easily swayed." Several Death Eaters flinched as the shadows behind their Lord spoke.

Voldemort barely contained his disgust. For several years he had been plagued by a young male, barely looking over twenty, as his new Dark ally. It did not bodewell with him as the Dark Prince was just that, a Prince and not truly a Lord of the Shadows. The boy's father had allowed his child to play games. But Voldemort needed this alliance to fulfill his dream. "Of course."

The predatory eyes gleamed withknowledge. "I'd be more respectful, Tom." The Dark Prince had leaned close to his ears, purring in a deadly tone. "Your thoughts are chaotic at best but your disrespect will never be accepted. Those thoughts may be your last. You desire to be a Dark Lord, master of Darkness. But I am the true Lord, the true Dark Master. And I can easily remove what the Darkness has willingly granted."

"I serve only you, my Master."

A single hand gripped his shoulder as the words flowed into his ear, never pausing the deadly calm tone, "Do well to remember. And heed Morgana's words. She and Circe were the only true Mistresses of Dark, the only to live with immortality until they either failed or grew bored."/