Harry Potter and the Dragon's Mirror
Book 1
Prologue
Godric's Hollow was a quiet little village on any normal day, and this Halloween night had been no different. Darkness had fallen an hour ago; the residents retreating into their homes after a lovely celebration of the holiday.
In one little cottage in particular, a man and his wife were playing with their one year old son, about to get him ready for bed. The father was holding him in the air, while his wife looked on with a happy smile, a hand resting lightly on her belly.
Neither of them were aware of the true darkness approaching. He stood, sneering on the street at the happy little family in the window. In mere moments, the only obstacle to his reign would be removed. They weren't even aware that they'd been betrayed. Oh, the old man had been clever, hiding them under the fidelius charm, but unfortunately for him, they'd trusted the wrong friend. Yes, Wormtail had been quite helpful to him. The Dark Lord's hand closed on the gate, pushing it open…and he fell flat on hard stone marble.
He coughed and spluttered as he pushed himself up. He glared, furious, at his surroundings. He turned in a circle, confused at this unexpected interruption. His eyes came to rest on a young man standing before an ornate mirror. The frame was a single, sinuous dragon, the head biting its own tail at the top.
The man turned to him with a grim smile. How he knew that with the man wearing a plain wooden mask he refused to question. "Nice of you to drop in, Tom. You didn't really think I would sit on the sidelines, did you?"
Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, snarled at him in his high, cold voice. "You dare?! You dare interfere on the eve of my triumph?! You dare go against your own precious rules?!"
The man merely smirked, shrugging a shoulder. "I'm not planning to break my rules, Tom. I intend to play into them. It's true, I cannot fight you, kill you. But I can delay you. Stop you, for a time. At personal cost, of course. Unfortunately for you, I believe that cost to be worth it."
Voldemort tremble, but he did not raise his wand. No, no he wouldn't give the man reason to defend himself. He wouldn't invite him to meddle even further. He glanced from his opponent to the mirror set behind him. "So what is it you intend to do, then? Lock me away in a mirror for a hundred years?"
"No." The man shook his head. "No, I intend to lock myself away inside the mirror. In exchange, you will be stripped of your physical form."
Anger. Rage and horror flooded Voldemort. His hand twitched for the briefest moment towards his wand, for all the good it would do him. "When I regain my form, I will be merciless in my vengeance. You know this. You know what I am capable of. All that I can do. You will not keep me from what is mine!" He hissed.
The man tipped his head to him. "Perhaps. Perhaps, when you do regain your strength, you'll find that there will still be those who oppose you. And don't forget: you regain your physical form, I will be freed from the mirror."
"Hah! As if you won't have limited influence from within the mirror. I know you'll find a way to cast your influence." Voldemort hissed. "I confess, I do regret seeking you out. But as in all things, hindsight gives the most insight. Let's be done with it! Just get it over with!"
"Very well then, Tom. I'll see you once you've regained a body." The man gave a sad smile. He turned and placed a hand on the mirror, his palm flat. The mirror rippled like a stone tossed in a still pond, and he stepped through the frame. The ripples stirred before the mirror stilled once more.
Voldemort fell to his knees as pain wracked his body. He lifted a hand to see it flaking. It disintegrated as he watched, the flaking spreading across his entire body in seconds. His spirit held on, a disembodied wraith. It hovered before the mirror for a moment, before wailing his fury and rushing from the room.
Back in the quiet night of Godric's Hollow, Lily and James Potter had just put their little son, Harry to bed. The poor babe would be rudely awakened a couple hours later when his frantic godfather had rushed into the house, panicked that his friends were dead. Instead, to his great relief, he found them confused but very much alive. Over the next few weeks, it was confirmed: Voldemort had vanished. Disappeared as without a trace. Without his presence, many of his followers had come back to regular society, claiming to have been imperiused. Others made attempts to continue fighting, desperate to find their master. The Longbottoms had barely escaped a cruel fate at the hands of some of them, yet they had escaped by the skin of their teeth with their son only a day older than the Potter's son. Slowly, over the next couple of years, life went back to a semblance of normal.