In the murky streets the Dark Lord rallied his supporters, followed by a chained and hooded figure. A pair of blue eyes peered from beneath the mantle. They were dreary as the skin was pale and burned with scars. From the long eyelashes, one could tell it was a woman.
The followers cheered, a banner holding the Dark Mark raised high in the air. They hollered in favor of their master; the Dark Lord raised his hand and everyone suppressed their cries.
“My noble followers, tonight is the night I rid us of the final menace in our plans: the Potters,” he said in a bone shrilling voice.
The crowd roared even louder with anticipation. The hooded woman looked at Him, her blue eyes burning with hatred.
The Dark Lord halted them again. He raised his hand confidently, and glaring back at them with his fiery eyes, placed it by his side once again.
“I will go alone to dispose of them,” he continued before turning to the hooded woman. “and only Valhalla shall accompany me.”
The woman raised her hood, her face pale. Her features were haunting and her cold blue eyes almost immobilized you. If looked at closely, one could see the many thin scars she had from many endured fights. She was the apprentice of the Dark Lord, Voldemort: Valhalla Adonis, the Heir of the Dark One.
Voldemort walked to Godric’s Hollow with Valhalla at his side like a cowering dog. He stopped and turned round to look at her, taking out his wand. With a single hand gesture the chains which bound her fell to the ground. Valhalla was relieved, but did not expect the harsh blow that came to her face. Blood trickled down her cheeks as she stared at him with her bloodshot blue eyes.
"Always be on your guard, my pretty,” he chuckled as he cupped her face in his hand and looked her straight in the eyes.
Valhalla pulled away; how she hated him! His disgusting red eyes and his distorted face haunted her every dream at night; she was never to rest, forever to wake in pain that surpassed all others. She wished to be back at school, with Lucius and Severus hanging out in the Common Room, plotting their next big prank or sitting quietly by the lake with Severus … what ever happened to him? Their last encounter had been when she was tricked into thinking she would become a Dark Knight: a slayer of evil magics when in reality she had been taken by the most powerful dark wizard alive to train as his successor, his totem to show off his power, and how he had captured the daughter of Odin.
Being a half immortal and daughter to the Lord of All Magic, the magic in Valhalla's blood was higher then that of any living mortal; it was for this reason Voldemort chose her. It had been a long seven years at the Dark Lords side and she was on the verge of breaking.
“Today, you become a true dark witch, dearest … tonight, you shall kill the Potters whom so conveniently you were friends with. I have no friends and neither shall my apprentice. These are the rules, Valhalla,” he grinned, dragging her along, his wand ready in case she should revolt.
Valhalla pushed on up the hill as silent tears streamed down her face. The only friends she had not lost contact with whom she went to school with, were Lily and James. Recently, when their son Harry was baptized, she had been made his godmother. Ironically, one of the Death Eaters had told Voldemort about her presence at the ceremony and another had recently revealed a prophecy that concerned him and the boy. This gave Voldemort double reason to kill the boy and his parents, but he would not do it himself; his apprentice and heir would finish her friends, proving her to be heartless and cold like a true dark witch.
They reached the summit of the hill. The dark night clouded everything around them.
“Now, Valhalla … go do what you must,” Voldemort cackled as he looked at the young woman.
The cloak dropped from her shoulders and onto the ground. In tattered Slytherin robes stood a woman in her twenties. She looked at him with fierce blue eyes.
“I will do what I must; I will finish you!” she hissed taking out her wand and moving toward him in a confident pace.
Voldemort stood there, unmoving, as if nothing were to happen. He looked at the young snake he had fathered all those years.
“Are you going to kill me, Valhalla?” he asked quietly.
“It’s over! I want nothing more to do with you!” she yelled, glaring at him, her eyes set ablaze.
“You dare strike down the Dark Lord, knowing that his supporters are only moments behind us? Do you really think that you, a little sniveling runt, could defeat Lord Voldemort?” he spat as he took out his wand.
"You – you're a monster!" Her eyes found a spot just over his right shoulder, penetrating it … avoiding his glare. "How could I ever have thought that you would help me? I'm through with living this lie!" Voldemort eyed her for a moment and then cackled.
"You remind me of myself when I was your age," he said. "Cowardly, that's what you are." Her eyes flew back to his sneering face, taking in it's every feature. She dropped her voice tilting her head forward and glaring at him.
"You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you!" Valhalla spat at the hem of his robe.
Voldemort glared at the spittle on his robe and then up at the young woman whom he so desperately wanted in his life; except, he knew, deep in his hollow self that she would be the end of him.
“Then you will die!” he snarled as he aimed his wand at her, “Avada – “
Valhalla parried with little effort. She looked at him, hatred burning in her soul. He may have not treated her all too kindly, but she had learned to stop even the most powerful curses without flaw. She knew everything; it was as though their blood was mingled together and they were one, but in reality it was only the fact that even the Dark Lord held weaknesses; he had trusted Valhalla and thought her too little of a threat to matter.
A stream of red light came from Valhalla’s wand as she stared at Voldemort. He dodged the attack and not noticing the spell coming from behind, got full blow of it and was sent off his feet. Kneeling before the woman, he looked up at her brown hair that tangled in the wind.
He got to his feet and looked down at her; the vileness in his face was beyond what anyone would have witnessed in his face. It was so demonic that it seemed to leap out at Valhalla like a burning flame.
“You … you little wench! You dare strike me from behind? I will show you respect,” he snarled, “CRIMONOS EVERUPTOS!”
A long green whip that was slightly transparent erupted from the tip of his wand and wrapped itself around Valhalla, who came crashing down to the ground with it.
She struggled to get to her feet, but the whip swung down again, ripping open new wounds in her skin. She screamed in pain on the ground as cut repeatedly again and again. Blood poured down her shredded robes. Memories of her life flashed before her eyes as she looked at the ground, her tears mixing with the dry earth, creating mud. She then noticed some rocks beside her, and while Voldemort was laughing manically, grabbed one and threw them at his face.
Voldemort staggered back, holding his face as Valhalla grabbed her wand and ran behind one of the large boulders. She looked at the sky and noticed there was a dense humidity in the air. A great bolt of lightning came from the sky and flashed as a great white scar upon the heavens holy image.
Valhalla had almost forgotten that Voldemort was still out there when she heard a stream of light coming her way; she dodged it quickly as the boulder exploded and Voldemort leaped out from the debris.
Valhalla had her wand in hand as Voldemort closed in on her. He pointed his wand at the ground as a circle was created and they were lifted on the platform high above the ground.
“You will fight me like a true warrior and not run behind rocks. NO ONE WILL SAVE YOU NOW!” he roared as he shot a stream of red light at her.
Valhalla looked at him with a bitter smirk and with the wave of her wand the beam was gone. She then attacked him with her own stream of magic and he parried it.
They fought for what seemed like hours, exchanging blows that seemed to neither effect nor to miss them. The night had grown cold as the two dark figures stared at each other, worn out and on the lasts of their strength.
“You cannot win, Valhalla. I, Lord Voldemort, shall smite you and there will be nothing you can do to prevent the Potters' deaths.” He grinned weakly, tired from the long duel they had just undertaken.
Valhalla breathed heavily while gazing at him, staring him down. She had failed her friends and she knew it, but she couldn't show him weakness. She clasped her wand firmer and looked at him with her blazing blue eyes.
“No,” she whispered standing up straight again.
Voldemort grinned; he was pleased to see that she knew he would be victorious and she would be nothing more then a tainted memory on his visage.
“Good bye, Valhalla Adonis, daughter of Odin,” he said quietly as a stream of green light sprouted from his wand, hitting her. The blow sent her flying off of the circular arena and onto the ground.
Valhalla lay on the cold earth; she was not dead … the fall had done nothing but weaken her beyond belief. Why she had not perished? This was odd, but before she could think further on the subject, she heard Voldemort yelling to someone; James Potter.
“Stay away!” James warned him.
“Out of my way! You’re a disgrace to the purebloods!” Voldemort croaked at the man.
“You will never hurt Lily or Harry, not while I live,” he snarled at him.
Valhalla lay on the ground, unable to move or help her friend. A tear fell from her eye. Though she was a Slytherin and had many friends from the house, she was not one to turn her back on others. James, who had once tormented Severus, proved to be a great and loyal friend. She smiled weakly, remembering all of the Quidditch games they had competed in, when horror struck.
It was a split moment in her lengthened life when everything froze, seemed to suspend itself in mid-air. She heard Voldemort utter a final threat to James and then she felt the green light illuminate off of his face. Valhalla, with all the effort left in her body, got up as she watched James Potter, the Gryffindor King, collapse to the floor. She watched that twisted man she had once called 'Master' laugh gleefully. With a smirk, Voldemort stormed into the house, breaking down the door.
Valhalla wasted no more time in trying to gain strength and to find the courage she did not possess. She ran to the house, trying not to look at the body of her dead friend and ran up the stairs. There was a trail of mud from Voldemort's boots.
Out of breath once more and hanging onto the railing, she heard Voldemort burst into the room she dreaded entering.
“NO! YOU CANNOT HARM MY SON!” she heard Lily scream.
Valhalla shook off her exhaustion, and ran for the room.
“Get out of my way you Mudblood!” Voldemort sneered, “Avada Kedavra!”
Valhalla ran into the hall just in time to see the familiar green light claim Lily Potters life. She fought back tears that threatened to fall from the grief in her heart. She silently snuck up behind Voldemort, avoiding Lily’s body.
“So … you are the biggest threat to me, young Harry Potter. It is funny how a child such as yourself is to be my demise, isn't it? Well, I promise you, this will not hurt a bit,” Voldemort grinned as his hideous face became distorted with madness while the baby boy sobbed for his non-existent mother.
The dark wizard glared at the boy in front of him with his flaming eyes. At that same time, behind him, Valhalla raised her wand.
"Avada – " Voldemort was cut off as pain leaped through his spinal cord and into his whole being. He watched as the boy stared at him and only a small scar appeared on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt.
With bloodshot eyes Voldemort looked back to see Valhalla with her wand still pressing against his back. She smirked with dry blood on her mouth from her previous beating.
“You’re wrong if you think that I’ll be just like you,” she said to him.
It looked like Voldemort was about to say something, but his body then began to change into stone as it cracked and turned to dust within moments, leaving Valhalla the only living being in the room, along with the little Harry Potter.
Valhalla pushed the hair out of her face and looked at the crying baby boy. She had endured more pain then she had ever in her whole life this evening: she had lost two friends, fought off the Dark Lord and she had watched a boy loose his family.
“I wish I could take you with me, Harry. I wish I could be the godmother you deserve, but for now … I must go,” she murmured sadly, turning round to look at Lily's face.
She looked at peace; perhaps she knew Valhalla was there, or maybe she was happy because she was now with James and knew that Harry would be watched over.
Valhalla carried James inside the house and lay him beside Lily. She then looked up at Harry again, who was now staring at her curiously.
“Someday you’ll understand everything, adieu,” she said as she left.
Valhalla stood outside, beside the cliff that looked down upon her, knowing if she stayed the press would soon be there. She would be thrown into Azkaban, where her horrors would haunt her forever. She looked down where nothing could be seen … Would death be so bad now?
“No one mourns the wicked,” she told herself quietly, and letting herself lean over the wall of stone, fell into an abyss of darkness, where she would be lead to peace. However, no one knew if this was the end of the daughter of Odin …