Prologue

The Riddle house stood at the end of the street, right at the top of the hill. Large black gates guarded the mansion, with a cluster of thick forage surrounding it as another layer of protection. Pushing through the undulating branches of gnarled trees and twisted prickly nettles was the Riddle mansion itself. It stood high and proud, with at least three levels to it, but the elements had worn down the house throughout the years. Windows were shattered, parts of the walls were knocked off, vines had taken over the house.

Lauren Dawlish stared at the rusted doorknob. A snake slithered around the door hand, the head facing her with its tongue stuck out. For the first time in months, she hesitated. Even after working on it for months, having people constantly tell her that it wouldn't work, she wasted her time. Even her own husband didn't want her to look into it anymore. But she didn't care. Why should she?

They didn't spend months researching; they didn't know what she did. She gave up so much to be here. Ruined her reputation, ruined her marriage, ruined her mother's life.

If anything, it gave her more reasons to open the door and investigate, prove to everyone that they were real, that they were back.

The door to the Riddle House was heavy. Lauren was having to use all her might to push it open just enough for her to slide through. And again to close it silently so that no one knew she was there.

Slowly stepping through the hallway, Lauren could see the remnants of the Riddle family that lived here all those years ago. The dust-covered armchairs, the moth ridden clothes. Magazines and newspapers dating all the way back to the forties and fifties were yellowed and furled. The rugs were matted. All the lights had been smashed. She didn't spend too much time walking around the house. Not only did she know that if she spent too much time here, she'd be caught, but it was starting to scare her. She walked to the staircase and gingerly placed her foot on the step, slowly putting her weight onto it until she could push herself. She slowly did this for the next step, taking it off the moment she would hear a creak. Lauren waited for a few moments before placing all her weight on it. While it took her a long time to get to the top of their stairs, it was the only way she could get close without anyone realising. When she did reach the landing, she saw a door to a room slightly open, a sliver of light that guided Lauren towards it. Similar to how she walked up the stairs, she pressed lightly, waiting for any noises. Thankfully, there were none.

Lauren peeked through the gap only to clamp a hand over her mouth to muffle out any gasps that could have given her away. After months of carefully researching, interviewing, writing, all her hard work had paid off. She was right. Lauren felt tears roll down her cheeks only to be built up where her hand was.

With the light of the fireplace and a candle, the small room was greatly lit, lit enough for Lauren to see a brown armchair placed close to the fireplace. She couldn't see anyone sitting there. A man - at least Lauren assumed - was kneeling beside the armchair, looking fearfully up. But that wasn't what Lauren was interested in.

Encircling the man and the armchair was a group of figures, all clothed in red cloaks, their hoods up. But Lauren didn't need to see their faces to know exactly who they were. In fact, Lauren knew them so well that she could name every single member that stood in the room. Standing directly opposite the chair was the lead of the group, Julianna Quinn. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. After all of these months of being constantly told that she was wrong, she saw them. They were back.

"I'm so, so sorry, My Lord, I – I told them that you – you were resting, but they wouldn't leave – I tried, I promised I tried - "

"Save your breath Wormtail," a hoarse voice spoke. Instantly, Lauren felt like she was dunked in ice. She pulled her jacket tighter around her. Only a few more minutes, she told herself. She would leave then. She would be back home with John. She would have her story. She would have her job back. Everyone would believe her. "Who are you?"

Lauren shook herself. This was the moment she had been waiting for.

"My Lord," Julianna spoke in a high pitched voice – almost as if it had been a child speaking. It was strange hearing the woman that she had been investigating for the past year speak. She was no longer just a character in a story. She was real. "Allow me to introduce ourselves. I am Julianna Quinn. I am the leader of the Sister of Heliopolis. We're here because we know we can help you."

The voice snorted. Or at least to Lauren, it sounded like someone had deconstructed the noise before putting back together again – all jumbled up. "Know? How could you possibly know that I need your help?"

"We knew you were here, my Lord," she said. Her voice was soft, dangerously soft. "We knew that on Halloween night, thirteen years ago, you weren't defeated by Ila Potter. Rather you were a disembodied spirit, looking for a place to rest, which was when you found Quirinius Quirrell, who would host your soul. Ila Potter then defeated you, and for the last few years, you had been stuck here, with your servant. We know that you had a Death Eater released as part of your plan to come back. Would you like me to carry on?"

While Lauren couldn't see the voice, she knew it was angry. It was strange. How powerful must a wizard be to shift the atmosphere of a room?

"All of this is common knowledge," the voice hissed. "There's nothing more than a read in the library that could tell you about half of those things."

"We have many Seers in our group, My Lord," she said. "I, myself, come down from a long line of powerful Seers in my family that have never been wrong. I know what will happen to you, My Lord. Without our help, you will be defeated, My Lord. Your life will be no more. Even after death, your plan will not flourish. Your group, your Death Eaters, will not keep their loyalty. You have seen it before. Without our help, you won't be able to kill Ila Potter. Rather, Ila Potter will kill you."

Wormtail started to laugh. "My Lord, you can't p-possibly accept this. They are clearly lying – you must make them - "

"Silence."

Wormtail stared at the chair in disbelief. "This is absurd. My Lord, you cannot accept this - "

"I said silence." The voice was barely a whisper but still had the power needed to scare the servant. A bony hand then emerged from the chair, and it moved left to the right. Wormtail's mouth and nose disappeared. Lauren watched as Wormtail struggled to breathe, with no air coming in or out. He collapsed onto the floor, his hands scratching at his throat, wanting a break from this torture.

Voldemort wouldn't give it to him.

"Prove to me that I can trust you."

Julianna didn't seem to be scared. She smiled at the opportunity that had risen. After seeing Wormtail thrashing on the ground, Lauren felt that it was a good time to leave now. She had enough to write a few articles to show to the entire world that her work hadn't gone down the drain. That she wasn't wasting time. Lauren slowly turned around with one final look, not wanting to hear or see what else would happen. She was ready to go home. Unfortunately, she didn't see one of the Sisters open the door with her back turned, and Juliana point the wand at Lauren's back until it was too late.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, the only part of her body that wasn't paralysed as she felt herself being levitated into the room, where Voldemort, The Sisters and a suffocated Wormtail were. She was thrown to the ground at the feet of the Sisters. One of the women knelt. A hand reached out to her. It stroked her hair. Lauren wanted to do nothing more than to scream, but her mouth was shut. The woman stopped. She brought down her cloak, revealing the scarred face of Julianna Quinn, smiling down at Lauren Dawlish's blank expression.

"I've been waiting for you," Julianna whispered to Lauren. She stroked her face once more. She didn't stop until she reached Lauren's neck. She wrapped her long fingers and dragged her nails hard into her skin until it started bleeding. "I've been waiting for a long time."

The door slammed shut.

Screams echoed from the Riddle house. They were so loud. The neighbours had awoken. Nothing usually ever came out of that house. At first, they weren't too sure what was making the screams. It could have been the foxes that usually roamed the house. But, the longer the neighbours stayed awake, a slow burn of guilt climbed up their throats. The more they heard, the more it sounded like a woman. It wasn't until the screams stopped did they get scared. It was then did they call the police.

The sun hadn't even risen yet when the flashing blue and red lights woke up the entire neighbourhood. A few of the closest neighbours of the Riddle house were standing outside so that they could point the policemen in the right direction. They weren't in the mood to talk. Once they entered the house, armed with guns and flashlights, they started investigating the house. As soon as the ground floor was cleared, they started working on the first floor. They checked the room closest to the stairs. Nothing was too out of the ordinary. All seemed to be in order. They all looked like they were abandoned. There was only one room left. One of the police officers had a bad feeling about the room. In fact, he wasn't the only one. Most of the officers hesitated before walking into the room. Perhaps it was that they had been on the job for such a long time, or maybe it was something else, but they knew something had happened here. It was something intuitive. The way the air smelt, the way the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. It felt like you were being watched. That weird pit in your stomach when you realised that only a few hours ago, this person was alive and well. Only a few hours ago did someone else make the fateful decision to take another's life.

One of the police officers had braved it. He pushed the door open, fearing for the worst. Once he did, he didn't know whether he should feel relieved or scared. The room was empty. The fireplace hadn't been lit. The armchair looked like the last person who had sat on it was years ago. Even the dust was settled. As the rest of the officers moved in, they found the one thing that troubled the first police officer. At the feet of the armchair, the dust had moved. There was an outline of what seemed to be a woman. As they bent down, charred remains of…well, they didn't know what it was.

"Sir," one of the police officers said. "Look at this."

He was pointing to a note stuck on the wall.

"He is back, though no one will care. No one will believe it until it's too late. Until the Lamb will break the seal and release His four disastrous acts of judgement sword, famine, wild beasts, and pestilence."