Chapter 1 : The Dark Lord
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Something’s scratching its way out
Something you want to forget about
- ‘Little House’, The Fray
The rain fell in torrents with a thick splatter against the wooden carriage that pulled none other than The Dark Lord Voldemort himself towards the ancient castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The droplets fell almost rhythmically, beating on the old wooden frame of the coach hard and mercilessly. The wind howled and blew the trees of The Forbidden Forest in the distance back and forth, testing their limits and even causing some to snap under the pressure. It was no matter; the weak had to be weeded out somehow. The Dark Lord scowled from the back seat of his comfortable carriage; the rain was becoming nothing but a nuisance.
The rickety coach slowly made its way to the front doors of the school, pulled by creatures that remain invisible to only the few spare people lucky enough to be unaware of the horrors they represent. The Dark Lord stepped out into the heavy rain, and, with a swish of his robes and a flick of his wand, the rain ceased completely and nothing but an ominous gray sky loomed overhead, clouds rolling rapidly and wind gusting around him. Lightning illuminated the sky overhead, but didn’t dare make contact with the ground; not even nature dared to test The Dark Lord these days. He placed his hands on the grand doors and pushed them open forcibly, entering his castle.
One hundred years it had been, nearly one hundred years. On All Hallows Eve in the year 1998, The Dark Lord succeeded in his final triumph over the seemingly invincible, but-not-so-much, boy wonder named Harry Potter. The fool that dared to challenge him, that dared to fight his cause. Nearly one hundred years ago it had been since that night, and in nearly one hundred years a world had been conquered, a society transformed, and immortality and timelessness finally achieved.
Now nearly a century later, The Dark Lord rules mercilessly over the greater part of the world as well as over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he presides as Headmaster. He governs propaganda in a population of corruption the world has never before seen in such a way. Morals are a thing of the past, definitions are twisted and turned and morphed into other things, and children are raised to aspire to greatness under The Dark Lord. They are taught of life in service to the greatest wizard of all time. And they believe it. Every. Last. Word of it.
The average child no longer grows up watching his parents mend a broken glass or levitate a quill for their own amusement, instead they watch their parents kill, maim, and torture in the name of pure blood and righteousness. They’re taught how to lie, cheat, and manipulate, all in hopes of being accepted into The Dark Lord’s own school. They live in a society of chaos. Organized, endless, chaos.
The Dark Lord began to make his way into the vast Entrance Hall of his school, taking a moment to revel in his own magnificence and the unending power he held over the entire world. He could hear the animated chatter of his students behind the doors to the Great Hall. The seventh years were undoubtedly speculating in hushed voices what monstrosities the new term may bring, whereas the blissfully unaware first years were most likely laughing and joking, excited to be attending the most prestigious magical school in the entire world. The young were always so foolish, they may not be sheltered children by any means, but nothing could prepare any child for life at Hogwarts.
The Dark Lord swung the doors open, letting them slam against the walls loudly, announcing his presence. He strode between the three long tables and took the time to examine his new students. To his right, as always, was the Archinin table, the smallest, yet most esteemed house. It appeared there were only a few new students this year; none of which seemed to be up to par with The Dark Lord’s high standards.
One new first year, though he held a firm scowl and a superior look on his face, was obviously not nearly as powerful as he attempted to appear. His strong demeanor was worthless when his eyes betrayed the true fear he felt. At least he was rightfully scared; a good sense of one’s place never hurt anyone. The Dark Lord sneered; they would be particularly easy to break this year.
His gaze shifted to Erica Malfoy, a sixth year and the only girl ever to be accepted into Archinin since its creation nearly one hundred years ago. She was as poised and composed as ever sitting with a dignified posture, occasionally speaking to Flint Fletcher or Vincent Lestrange, the Head Boy. As he passed, The Dark Lord saw all three straighten up and silence the younger years around them. At least he could count on them to uphold the true honor of the Archinin house.
To his left rested the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, though still better than the disgraceful Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs that had been dissolved long ago; they just did not hold the same respect they once did. Though one can surmise that that’s what comes with reform, room has to be made for succession, and if that comes at the detriment of the older houses, then so be it.
As he reached the front of the spacious hall he raised his hand and gave it a careless wave, putting out all of the candles in the large room, save for the few that floated around him. He turned to face his minions, students by proper terminology, but minions all the same. He breathed in deeply and took in his surroundings and then began to speak.
“Welcome, my students,” he began in a rather raspy, but still authoritative and powerful voice that carried across the whole of the hall. He spoke almost mockingly by referring to the children as ‘his students’. He smirked and then continued, “Welcome to another, quite revolutionary, year at Hogwarts.”
He moved to position himself behind the large podium at the head of the hall, letting his long fingers trace along the sides of the large wooden stand as he came to a halt. Once again he looked into the crowd. He saw faces of fear, faces of reverence, and faces of undoubtedly obvious deceit, such faces infuriated him the most. Any student’s pitiable attempts to hide anything from him were futile. Deceit is encouraged, deception is an enviable skill and should be attained by all, but deceit in the face of The Dark Lord is a futile and quite potentially deadly thing. Such attempts are foolish by all meanings of the word.
“This year marks an anniversary of great importance, not only to me, but to the entire world,” he articulated, fully composed in manner and speech. “It is the year 2098 and this Halloween will embody a century of my rule in one night. A century, it has been Harry Potter walked this earth, a century of justice, true justice, represented in my reign, and a century.” He stopped to emphasize his next two words, “of power.” He paused, allowing the applause to ring throughout the hall, the students and teachers all recognized the unparalleled event they were a part of.
As the clapping died down he spoke again, “Throughout this school year there will be many unprecedented occurrences, many surprises, and many, I hope quite interesting, ways for you, the students, to get involved along the way. Though, that’s all I will say of that for now.”
He watched as the silver and black platters in front of each student filled with small portions of rice, grilled chicken, and the occasional biscuit or two. Such foods constituted the perfect diet for healthy and productive members of society. The students began to eat in silence, their full attention still focused on the infamous individual standing before them. The first years followed suit and made no noise as they began to eat, unaccustomed to such a dreary, so-called feast.
“Now for the obligatory opening announcements as you eat,” spoke The Dark Lord, shifting to a more business-like manner. “First I would like to congratulate our new Head Boy and Girl; Vincent Lestrange of Archinin and Jordan Zabini of Slytherin.” He waited as the applause once again died down.
“I would also like to remind you all that the fifth floor corridor is off limits; the said corridor contains nothing but the unused Defense.” He gave a short laugh. “Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies classrooms, neither of which should hold any interest for any student in my school.”
He waved his hand once more and the Great Hall erupted in light, all of the candles illuminating at once. “Now enjoy your meal,” he said. “And welcome back,” he added as he made his way out of the Hall and up to his office, not wanting to spend more time than was necessary with his minions.
As The Dark Lord stalked out of the hall and closed the large double doors behind him not a word was spoken, nor was any sound made for the next hour as the students finished eating and left the hall in unison. The only words spoken were uttered in harsh whispers back in the students’ dormitories after dinner. By the time The Dark Lord had finished addressing the school it was after ten o’clock and speaking was prohibited unless otherwise stated. The Dark Lord enjoyed his silence, but he enjoyed the power it exemplified even more.
The Dark Lord sat himself in the large and comfortable chair he had positioned behind the desk in his office. It was nearly ten-thirty and he was sufficiently tired, though matters as basic as sleep never held him from his work before, and they certainly wouldn’t now.
He dipped his feather quill into the inkpot on his desk and began to write in his untidy scrawl. He scribbled a quick message before signing his name and then sealing the parchment roll with the Volderian Reign signature seal. He flicked his wand and sent the letter flying out of his office and navigating its way down the winding halls of Hogwarts.
He had urgent news to discuss with two very important students. Urgent news that would reshape the direction of the coming year completely.
So that's it for now, reviews are always appreciated, I've put a lot of work into this story and it means a lot to me. Thanks!