The sky was black with clouds. They blocked out any light that the powerful sun beyond them might have thrown down onto the wild beauty of the Moors. Rain threatened at any moment, and the wind seemed not to howl, but to scream like a banshee - a death cry.
As the thunder cracked and the lightening ripped the sky in two, causing the heavens to open, a figure even darker appeared in the frozen wasteland. The rain began to fall in icy torrents, hard and cold enough to hurt. But if the figure felt this pain, he ignored it. He just stood, staring across the Moor, searching for something. He turned on the spot, still searching. The figure lifted his arm and swept it downward in a violent gesture. As though following his command lightening flashed through the sky again, illuminating the landscape.
For a split second the outline of a house was visible in the distance, a large, bare tree just by it.
The figure immediately set off in the direction of the house. A particularly strong gust of wind followed by another flash of lightening threw back the hood of the figure's cloak and illuminated his face. He had a handsome face; pale, clear skin and jet-black hair. His eyes though, were what stood out. They were dark, and yet, they seemed to gleam. Even in the enclosing darkness, a red glow seemed to linger.
The figure neared his destination. Recognising the tree that the lightening had also illuminated, and ignoring the cries from birds that the tree held, the figure pressed on at a quicker pace. He soon reached the grounds of the house and stood silently surveying what was before him. A large, grey-stoned wall ran around the edge of the property. There was only one break in this wall; the entrance. Framed by high, statue-topped pillars sat a large wrought-iron gate. Fearsome enough given the surroundings, but made more so by the coat of arms which hung high up in the centre. The arms showed only one motif, a large bird, species unknowable in the dark and the rain. Its beak was slightly open and its wings spread impressively to fill the shield it was upon.
The man smiled. It was a cold, greedy smile, which stripped his face of all the handsomeness it contained. Slowly, the man moved forward. He did not touch the gates, but rather seemed to caress the air which hung just before them. He stepped to the side and did the same along a small section of the wall. He moved and did the same on the other side of the gate.
His expression changed. He still smiled, but it was not the greedy, almost terrifying one he had held just moments before. It had turned to something strange, as though he was impressed and proud. Gracefully he reached inside his cloak and withdrew a long stick; very gently he tapped the coat of arms, noticing for the first time that where the bird's eye should have been there lay a large blue stone.
The man had expected the emblem on the shield before him to move, and so was surprised when one of the other large stone creatures he had failed to notice on top of the stone pillars spoke instead.
"The Mistress of the house says that she has been expecting you, though she hasn't the faintest idea of who you are. If you give your name you may pass, if you do not wish too, then leave, for you shall not enter."
The man recovered from his surprise quickly, feeling he should have realised that it would be the statue which spoke, like so many were enchanted to.
"Your mistress wishes my name does she," the man said, a chuckle escaping over his lips as he spoke. He found it highly amusing that someone should demand to know his name.
The stone creature remained silent, as he knew it would.
Smiling widely, as though something amazingly funny were going on the man answered. "Of course she may know my name, if that is all she desires." He cleared his throat. "My name," he said quietly, "is Lord Voldemort."
Silence. The rain seemed to suddenly stop. Even the wind disappeared. In the hush the only sound that could be heard was that of the Iron Gate creaking open.