Harry Potter and the Hostility of Hospitality Chapter 4
The most feared man in all of England reclined back in his large throne. The stately chair was made of a dark, almost pitch-black onyx, and looking at it would send waves of fear down anyone's spine. Then again that might have been due to it's occupant. The arms of the throne were gilded with gold, and flickered as if they were lit by a nearby candle, even when none was present. The back of the throne arced away on both sides, like the malevolent wings of an arch-demon.
The man upon the throne was quite pale. His veins and arteries showed up distinctly on his skin, almost as if there was no pigment. He was unnaturally tall, reaching almost 3 meters, yet somehow maintained an air of graceful balance. His height wasn't the only thing elongated, his fingers were as well. In these artfully extended fingers on his right hand, rested an object of great power, a wand, but not just any wand, no, not even Voldemort's wand, it was Harry Potter's wand, the boy-who-lived-to-be-imprisoned. What ironic revenge, to take over the world with it's savior's wand. Voldemort couldn't help but congratulate himself upon that achievement, but he couldn't help congratulating himself on breathing either, it was a difficult task after all wasn't it?
His eyes, once brown and dashing, now were slitted and murky red, reminiscent of the other occupant of the throne, a large pale blue and green snake that was wrapped around the back of the chair and Voldemort himself. The eyes of both master and familiar glowed with evil intent. The red light produced was terrifying, and awe-inspiring at the same time. His face was flat, without a nose , simply slits for breathing, the only disfiguring factor of his makeup, and his skull was bare of all hair. His robes were a deep forest green, and had highlights of silver in such a way that they were only visible if he moved.
He was surrounded by a circle of about 11 people, all clothed in deep black cloaks, with silver masks covering any facial features. The masks were fashioned into grotesque smiles, some with fangs and horns, others with sewed together mouths and eyes. The masks reflected off the poor lighting of the chamber, giving them an ethereal quality. All eleven servants were kneeling, waiting for their summons to stand.
In the silence, Voldemort spoke, "Rise my servants, and prepare yourselves."
Wordlessly, the group rose as one, and bowed their heads in reverence.
"Fox, begin." called out the dark lord, using a code-name that would throw off any traitors who attempted to infiltrate the group or to eavesdrop on them.
One figure, whose mask had a snout and the ears of a fox and appeared to be rabid lifted his head and began to speak. There was an odd double-voice effect, produced by the mask to further prevent those present from identifying the man speaking.
"My lord, I have bad news to bring you. While I was able to completely control the Minister's guard, and therefore gain access to him, he managed to resist my Imperious enough to throw off our plans. He released Potter just yesterday and I didn't find out that he had escaped my spell until this morning when I went to renew it. Potter has been removed to a place of safety, and the minister does not know where."
The figure again lowered his head and stepped back, indicating he had no further information. He mentally prepared for chastisement at his failure. It came soon enough, but without it's usual intensity. After only 5 seconds of pain, he was released form the curse's hold.
"See that you do not fail so irreparably again Fox, let this be a lesson to you, laziness will have no place in my new world order."
"Now, speak, Fiend."
A second figure raised it's head and his horns and split tongue were distinctly visible, his voice rasped and seemed as if it were dragged across metal as it came out. "We now have 5 agents inside the Department of Mysteries. As of yet, we haven't found a way around their oaths of silence, but we have one more plan that's being attempted as we speak. Even if it fails, our takeover should be close to complete in little over two weeks."
"Much better news, much better. Now, have any others of you information?"
None stepped forward to speak, so Voldemort continued, "Good, good, well my friends, we, and by we I mean I, have made an important breakthrough on finishing off the Order. Shortly, we will be preparing to assault a location that they have thought to be impenetrable for too long. I will call you when the raid begins. Now, begone, and continue your previous tasks."
The minions left, leaving the Dark Lord to brood over the loss of his trophy, the boy-who-lived. He had been able to remove him at any time before, but he had not felt the need. He remembered his first visit to everyone's favorite inmate, as it was during the first siege of Hogwarts.
He stalked down the hallway, and prisoners drew back, into the corners of their cells, almost as if he was a dementor. He stopped with a sudden jerk and simply stared at one small boy. the boy lay there, unresponsive and uncaring. The dark lord used his magic to force the child upright, and brought the boy's head up. Then, he stared into faded green eyes, and dived in. He found himself bombarded by images of intense pain and sadness.
Darkness, total darkness, he could feel the cupboard walls closing in. Suddenly, the memory morphed seamlessly into that of a woman screaming, and Voldemort saw a familiar flash of green light. It changed to Sirius Black slowly falling backwards into a veil, but his face was contorted into a scream of agony. Voldemort tore himself away with a start.
"Well... you're already insane aren't you... my boy."
He cackled with pleasure, no longer would he fear this prophesied hero. the hero obviously couldn't even clean himself, let alone lift a wand in attack. he let his magic go, and watched as the body fell to the ground and hit it's head with a loud crack. laughing even more maniacally, he stalked out, leaving a wave of prisoners cowering behind him.
He also remembered the siege and how that hadn't succeeded. Well, in the taking control of the castle part, but his original thrust had stuck deep into enemy territory and stolen one person thought well protected. He had enjoyed ripping the prophecy out of that bitch's head, and made sure to do it as painfully as possible, tearing out the sanity along with it. Voldemort laughed again, as he realized that the count of people who had lost their sanity due to his actions now totaled 334.
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A shaft of moonlight pierced though the night, illuminating a spot on the floor in a darkened room. The shaft seemed to center on a small ball-like figure crouching in the far corner of the room. There was a stillness in the air that can only be found at night. Suddenly, in the middle of the beam of light, a darkness appeared. It seemed to be swirling, and grew larger and more elliptical quickly. The light seemed to warp around it as if it wasn't really there.
As soon as it was the size of a man, one stepped out. His dark, wild hair was a hint as to his name, but the gleam of emeralds in his eyes cinched it. He leaned over the figure, and whispered something in it's ear. The figure stood up, like a stiff, unbending tree and stared straight ahead. Then, the green eyed man leaned over, and tapped an intricate sequence on the left leg. After he finished, the leg opened with a pop, and a small compartment was revealed. He took a bit of string from his pocket and put it in, then closed the leg. The standing figure still didn't react. Moving on, the man reached for the figure's throat, and did a similar intricate motion, revealing a hollow. He took a thin piece of metal from his pocket, pointed it at his throat, and then whispering something, he drew it away,then pointed it at the cavity in the neck of the figure and closed the hole .
"All set then eh?" He mumbled to himself. Then, he heard a sound of someone stumbling in the hall way and quickly darted back into his waiting vortex, and was gone.
The door to the room opened, and A small figure stumbled in, Holding a lit wand in her hand.
"Harry, are you awake?" came the soft voice. The girl stopped upon seeing the figure standing up in the moonlight, but after several moments of nothing happening, she approached further, and examined the rigid man. His eyes were turned toward the window with light streaming in, and he seemed to be focusing on the moon. The red haired woman moved closer, then hugged the still man fiercely.
"Oh, Harry, what's wrong? you know you can talk to us!" cried Ginny, for Ginevra Weasley it was. She cried her self to sleep after a while, still hugging the mannequin of Harry Potter. Unbeknownst to her, after she fell asleep, the vortex came back, and a head stuck out, with the distinctive traits, and smiled softly, but sadly at the scene.
"Soon, soon it will all be over, don't fret, my love." He whispered, then withdrew.