Trapdoor 2: Fan Fiction

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 Table of Contents

Young Remus 5

The Forgotten Memory 33

A Traitor Among Friends 45

Dark Mark Rising 67

How the Stag Got Its Antlers 107

Greatest of the Hogwarts Four 121

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Young Remus

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Young Remus

Chapter One
The King of Rats

The young boy laid on his back, face soaking up the warmth of the summer sun.  A
tender reed rolled lazily in his mouth as he picked out images from the clouds that
floated gently by.  He breathed deeply - freedom filled his lungs and he grinned to
himself.  The first day of summer break from school.  A whole day to himself.  A
whole world to himself.  His grin broadened.

"Remus! Remus - did you finish degnoming the garden?"  A woman in a pink
paisley cloak stood with her hands on her hips, looking both stern and amused at
the same time.  "Mom", Remus said in an exasperated tone, "it's the first day of
summer!  Can't I degnome tomorrow?"  Renate Lupin's competing expressions
were now engaged in a heated battle, but finally the amused expression won out.
Her face softened into a smile and she said, "Go ahead, I guess.  But tomorrow you
are not going anywhere until you degnome that garden!"  

Remus' grin returned and he hoisted himself upright.  If he was going to have a day
of freedom, there was no sense wasting it.  He headed down the stone path leading
away from his house and the village of Deerstone.  For a day of adventure to be
complete, he would need the King of Rats.  And that meant heading through the
Dark Forest to neighboring Drebley where the King lived.

The King hadn't always been called that.  In fact, Remus thought as he gave a stone
a good hard kick, his parents didn't call him that at all.  They still called him Will.
But everyone else called Will Hammond the King of Rats.  And no one knew how
to have more fun or pack more adventure into one day than the King.

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Chapter Two
The Darkness

Remus' mind was so deeply on the task of planning his adventurous day that he
had hardly noticed the growing darkness and increasingly uneven footpath.  His
sneaker snagged a particularly gnarly tree root and he was jolted into the present.
He always acted brave about passing through the forest, and waved his mother's
cautious warnings aside.  But, truth be told, it made him nervous.  

The forest stretched for several dark miles in each direction.  To go around it
would add too much time to his journey, and he wasn't allowed a broomstick yet.
So today, like many other times, he found himself within its black interior,
stumbling along curved and twisted trails.

He hurried along the path, pushing leafy limbs away from his face while others
clawed softly at his clothes.  The path was becoming more overgrown and
overhead the canopy of the trees became denser.  Soon, the foliage was so thick
that no light, no wind could penetrate it.  Remus blinked his eyes, trying to speed
their adjustment to the surrounding blackness.  

"CRACK!"

Remus spun to his right - what was that?   He peered through the leaves and heard
a soft rustle beyond the large oak.  "Who's there?" he asked.  He certainly hoped
that he sounded braver to whoever might hear him than he sounded to himself.  He
was about to ask again when he decided he didn't really want to know, turned back
to the path and began briskly walking again.  As he hurried along, he thought he
might have heard more shuffling in the leaf litter, and sped up some more, now
moving along at a jog.  The sounds to his right seemed to match him step for step,
staying even with him, stalking him.  He started to run full out.  

He rounded a bend and felt a wave of relief.  The crystal waters of Hickory Creek
signaled he was nearly out of the forest.  The gurgling water hid any other sounds
he might have heard as he sprung lightly from stone to stone, waving his arms like
a Diricrawl trying to take flight.  Several times he nearly slipped, one foot plunging
into the icy water, but he didn't slow.  

He moved downstream until he got to Smokey Joe, an enormous oak tree that had
survived a fire that had wiped out everything for miles around over 100 years ago.
With a giant leap, he rejoined the forest path and ran as fast as he could, limbs now
thrashing his face and clawing at his jeans, trying to grab him, hold him, and make
him stay.  Sides heaving, brown hair plastered to his face with sweat, Remus burst

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from the forest into blinding sunlight, the town of Drebley barely seen through his
squinting eyes.

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Chapter 3
The Hunt

Remus kneeled in the soft green grass and pushed his hair from his forehead with a
clammy palm.  His eyes closed, he lifted his face to the warm sun again, and let its
brilliance and warmth wash over him.  His heart began to slow from its wild
tarantella to a moderate rumba, and as he regained his breath, he regained his wits.

"Get a hold of yourself, you stupid git!" he told himself angrily.  He was glad the
King wasn't here to see this.  He'd never live it down.  He stood up, still a bit
wobbly, but forced himself to walk steadily down the hill to the shocking purple
frame house at the edge of the town.

"Hi Mrs. Hammond", said Remus when the purple door swung open.  Mrs.
Hammond was a thin, frail woman.  She smiled as she pulled a beige shawl around
her, an odd sight on such a warm summer day.  "Can the King play?"  
"Will is upstairs - go on up and I'll bring some nice cool pumpkin juice and cookies
up in just a moment."  
Remus took the stairs two at a time, turned left at the top and rapped sharply on the
door to his right.  Not waiting for a response, he turned the knob and entered.

The room was full of rats.  Rats in cages, rats running on squeaky wheels, rats
scurrying along the top of the curtain rail.  Rats everywhere.  A boy with black hair
and black eyes sat on the bed reading a book, one rat cleaning itself on his shoulder
and another snoozing happily on his head.

The King looked up and exclaimed, "Remus!" He abruptly put down his book and
the rats that had been taking their morning naps on the bed scattered in an angry
chorus of squeals. "What's up?"

"What's up with you?" said Remus in return, a quizzical glance at the book on the
bed.  "Reading on your first day of summer?  You're losing your touch, King."
The book flew across the room and smashed into the wall just behind where
Remus' head had been a second before.  Remus laughed as he straightened up and
tossed Rats of the Amazon back onto the bed.

"Did you know that in the Amazon they have rats as big as a hippogriff?  Blimey,
I'd like to see that."  Remus knew that the King wanted more than just to see it -
he'd probably have it sleeping in bed with him within 24 hours.  

Just then, Mrs. Hammond walked in with a tray of pumpkin juice and spice
cookies.  Remus' nearly forgotten journey through the forest had left him thirsty
and he eagerly grabbed a pewter goblet and drank deeply.  Stuffing a cookie in his

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mouth he said, "Sho, wha you wanna do today?" trying not to spray cookie crumbs
around.  As it was, rats where beginning to surround him, hoping to catch any little
morsel that might fall.

"Well," said the King, "I was thinking about going on a rat hunt today.  You know,
add to my collection."

"Um, ok", said Remus.  He eyed the room and tried to see where one more rat
could possibly fit, but knew better than to press that issue with his friend.

"Great!" said the King.  He picked up a knapsack on his dresser and flung it over
his back, and put his favourite rat, Chaos, in his breast pocket.  "Let's head off into
the forest!"

Remus nearly choked on his cookie.  While he was definitely looking for
adventure, he wasn't sure he wanted to try to find it there.  The morning's escapade
was starting to come back to him more clearly, and it must have showed on his
face.

"What - are you getting chicken on me?" laughed the King.  "Did the bogey man
try to grab you on the way here?"

"No!" said Remus, probably a little too forcefully. "It's just that, well, um…there's
no problem.  Sounds like fun.  Yeah - let's go hunt some rats."  He took another
gulp of pumpkin juice and pounded down the stairs after the King.

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Chapter 4
The Empty Net

The King laid his knapsack at the base of Smokey Joe.  Kneeling down, he opened
it up and took out his gear.  After handing a net to Remus, he unfolded an
accordion of small metal grill-worked frames that popped open and formed a
small, sturdy cage.  Chaos poked his head out of his hiding spot, whiskers
twitching furiously.  He sunk back down as the King picked up a net of his own,
and the boys worked their way down along the bank of Hickory Creek.

"Rats always like to hang out near the water.  They never get too far from it."
Remus did not doubt this.  He wouldn't have doubted anything the King said about
rats.  They rustled bushes with their nets, poked the handles into old, rotted tree
trunks, and kicked through piles of leaves and rubbish.  They walked down one
side of the creek, crossed over dancing across the stones, and walked back up the
other side.  They strayed away from the creek, deciding to try some other potential
nesting grounds.  

"Here!" shouted the King, stooping at the base of a rotted out tree.  "There's a nest
here - see the way the leaves are piled and the shape of the droppings?  That's a
rat's nest.  But…hmm…there's no sign of one being around." He continued to poke
and prod the brush around the tree.  "This is so odd.  There are no rats in the forest.
Where could they have gone?"

"Maybe they didn't go anywhere", said Remus.  He was thinking of the loud
Crack! and rustling he'd heard during this morning's journey.

"What do you mean?" asked the King.  "If they didn't go somewhere, what
happened?"

"Well, maybe something's…well…eating them all."

The King's jet black eyes rested on Remus.  "There aren't enough predators in the
forest to wipe out the entire rat population."

"Yeah, I guess.  But what if there was one big predator?"

"What are you talking about?  Do you know something?"

"No, no, I don't know anything.  It's just that, well, on the way here…" his voice
trailed off. "Um, I just, you know, heard some weird stuff, that's all."

The King opened his mouth to ask, "Like what", but he didn't need to.  Just then,

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leaves rustled and twigs cracked as if a large animal was moving with stealth,
hidden by the bushes and trees behind them.

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Chapter 5
The Bite

The boys looked at each other for just a moment, spellbound by the tension in the
air.  "Run", croaked Remus through a voice so tight nothing else was possible.
They dropped the nets and cage and took off in the direction of Hickory Creek,
pounding down the twisted trail, not caring that trees and bushes were raking their
faces, their clothes.  The sounds were deafening - crashing limbs, thundering
footsteps, gasping breaths…Was all this noise just them?  Remus wasn't sure, but
he couldn't risk looking anywhere but straight ahead as he and the King careened
through the forest.

As they reached the creek, the familiar stitch was reappearing in Remus' side.  Had
it only been this morning that he had run along this same path?  It seemed like ages
ago.  He had to stop, just for a moment.  The boys fell to their knees at the edge of
the creek, its water gurgling softly, innocently, oblivious to the panic in the air.
Remus put his hand in the icy water to wipe his face, trying to bring reason back
into focus.  Suddenly, Chaos leapt from the King's pocket and tore off under a
bush.  "Crap!" yelled the King, and he sprang after his rat, forcing his way through
the overgrown foliage.  "Chaos!  Come back here you stupid…" The King didn't
finish his sentence.   Remus jumped up and followed through the bush. "King - you
OK?" But by the time he finished his question, he already knew the King was not
OK.  In the clearing just beyond the bush, a fully-grown werewolf sat on his
haunches, Chaos in his hand, blood dripping from his snout.  

The King picked up a stick and hurled it at the werewolf.  "Leave 'im alone, you
bastard!"  The werewolf turned toward the boys, his brow furrowed, his yellow
eyes piercing them with a glowing, penetrating stare.  The lips at the end of his
long, narrow snout peeled back, revealing two bloodstained daggers, and he
emitted a growl so low and thunderous that it made the very ground under them
tremble.  Remus and the King stumbled backwards into the bush as the werewolf
dropped the body of Chaos to the ground.  The leap came so suddenly, so fast that
Remus never saw him move.  One moment, the werewolf was squatting next to the
dead rat, and the next he was on top of the King.

With a sickening crunch he sank his huge canines into the King's neck, blood
spurting in every direction.  The King couldn't scream, though he tried.  A
strangled gurgle was the only sound he made before his body went limp.  Remus
leapt onto the werewolf's broad, hairy back, beating him with his fists.  "Let him
go! Let him go!"  The werewolf roared in annoyance and suddenly Remus' arm felt
like a knife was being driven through it.  Remus screamed in agony, but kept
pummeling with his other fist.  The werewolf let go of the King, who crumpled to
the ground and lay unnaturally still.  He grabbed Remus and threw him against a

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tree as though he were a ragdoll, and he lay there trying to find his breath,
wondering if his back was broken.  

The werewolf turned back to the King and buried his face in the King's open neck,
clawing at the clothes that hid the body underneath.  This couldn't be happening.
The King couldn't be dead.  Regaining what was left of his strength, Remus picked
up the stick that the King had thrown at the werewolf, holding it in his one good
hand.  He charged at the back of the beast and drove it into its spine.  Red blood
poured over the gray fur that covered the beast, and it threw back its head, an
unearthly howl ripping through the air.  He dropped the King, leaped over the
bushes, and disappeared.

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Chapter 6
The Journey

Remus knelt down next to the lifeless body of the King and sobs wracked his
battered, bruised body.  He tried to lift him, but his injured arm was useless.
Cradling the King in his one good arm, Remus rocked back and forth wondering
what to do.  As the sobs subsided and his breathing evened out, Remus' brain
started to function again.  He couldn't stay here.  He had to move.  The werewolf
could come back at any time.  But he couldn't leave the King here either.  

He slipped his belt out of its loops and removed the King's as well.  Fastening them
together, he formed a harness around the King's chest that he could use to pull his
friend's body.  He grabbed the harness, his other arm dangling useless and bloody
at his side, and threw his weight forward, making slow, awkward progress down
the path.  With each tree root and stone in the path that they crossed, the King's
body jerked and twisted, head lolling from side to side on the bit of bone and sinew
that kept it connected.  Remus whispered, "I'm sorry, King. I'm sorry…" each time
it happened, until a steady stream of hypnotic words issued with every breath.

Reaching the creek once more, Remus stepped right into the knee-deep icy water,
and half-floated the King's body behind him.  The crystal water turned crimson as
Remus worked his way towards Smokey Joe, finally reaching the path and hoisting
his friend onto the other bank.

Remus barely remembered the rest of the journey, but one thing he would never
forget for the rest of his life was the scream from Mrs. Hammond when that purple
door swung open.  

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Chapter 7
The Ministry

By the time Mr. and Mrs. Lupin apparated at the Hammond home, Remus was
sitting on the couch wrapped in an afghan, holding his knees up to his chest.  He
stared blankly at the fire burning lightly in the fireplace, trying to keep any image
from his mind.  Is this what it was like to be insane?  To have no real thought in
your head, no image in your mind?  To drift in your mind like a boat lost at sea, no
rudder to steer, no compass to guide it?  Maybe he was insane now.  Who could
blame him.

The King's body lay just inside the doorway, covered in a blanket.  Mrs. Hammond
sat in a chair, stoically watching it, not blinking, not crying, barely breathing.  It
was as though if she stayed quiet enough, still enough, she would see some
movement…some sign that the King would come back to life.  

Members from the Ministry of Magic were starting to arrive.  The Department for
the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had been contacted, and now
witches and wizards from the Werewolf Capture Unit and The Committee for the
Disposal of Dangerous Creatures were apparating.  They approached Mr. and Mrs.
Lupin and talked for a moment, looked in Remus' direction, and talked some more.

His mother came over and sat gently beside him, putting a hand out to touch him,
but he recoiled.  "Remus", she whispered, "Remus, these people want to ask you
some questions.  Important questions."  Remus didn't move, didn't answer.
"Remus, you can help to make sure this doesn't happen to someone else.  Please,
Remus.  Talk to them.  Talk to me."  Her voice cracked softly as she said this,
desperate to reach into the depths of Remus' despair and pull him back.  

Remus blinked and then blinked again.  Slowly he turned his head towards his
mother's soft blue eyes, red now from crying, lined with worry.  "Mom", he
choked, blinking back a tide of more tears, "I tried.  I tried to fight him off.  I tried,
I tried…" but his voice trailed away.  Mrs. Lupin pulled her son against her chest
and he let his full weight bear upon her as he let the tide break over him.  

When Remus pulled back, sniffling and wiping his eyes, a witch with silver eyes
and a deep scar that coursed the entire right side of her face was squatting on the
floor in front of him.  In a whiskey voice that tried to sound gentle she said, "My
name is Diana Bailey.  I know you've been through a terrible ordeal, but we need
to find that werewolf.  Up to answering a few questions?"  Remus nodded, almost
imperceptibly.  

"Right then.  Where did you first see him?" she asked.

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"Just on the south side of Hickory Creek", Remus replied.

"And what was he doing when you first saw him?"

"Eating…" Remus' voice trailed off again.  He was going to say "Eating Chaos"
but he couldn't bring himself to form the words.  "Eating…" he started again, "a
rat."

"And when he saw you boys he attacked?"

"Well, the King…um, Will, he threw a stick at him.  The rat was his pet.  Then the
werewolf…" his voice faltered again, and this time, he didn't try to find it.

"And what did you do when the werewolf attacked your friend?"  Diana's silver
eyes had not left Remus' face for an instant.  Remus felt as though she were
watching the whole incident inside of his head.  He wished she could.  Then he
wouldn't have to talk about it.

"I - I - hit him.  I jumped on his back and I hit him.  That's when he bit me."  He
pulled his arm from under the afghan and showed where he had hastily bandaged
his arm with a rag.  He untied it and the deep puncture wounds on his arm began to
flow red again, his arm purple and swollen.  Mrs. Lupin paled as he covered it
again, and behind her one of the ministry wizards walked away to talk to another.

"He threw me against a tree.  I picked up the stick and I stabbed him in the back
with it.  He ran away, and I brought the King home."  Remus started to curl up
again and look back at the fire, but Diana Bailey took him by both shoulders and
faced him back to those strangely luminous eyes.  

"Which direction did he go?" she asked, firmly.

"South", said Remus, "Away from the creek."

Diana Bailey let go of Remus and stood up, just as another wizard apparated in the
living room.  

"Miss Bailey", said Mrs. Lupin, "is it alright for us to go now?  I'd like to get
Remus home."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible", said the new wizard that had just arrived.  He
approached her carrying a black, shiny dragon hide bag.  "My name is Dr. Altheus,
and Remus is going to have to return with me to St. Mungo's Hospital.  I'm sorry,
but that werewolf bite is going to require…special care."  As he said this, he knelt
down and gently tried to move the blanket around Remus aside to take a look at the
wound.
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Remus pulled sharply back, panic in his eyes.  "Mom!  No.  I want to go home!
Please, don't let them…" but it was too late.  Already hospital orderlies were
apparating around him, taking him firmly by the arms and into the fireplace,
throwing silver dust and shouting, "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and
Injuries!"  
Remus felt a rushing, spinning sensation, and Mrs. Hammond's living room
disappeared.

Chapter 8
The Hospital

The orderlies and Remus fell forward out of the fireplace in a cloud of ash.  Pain
shot through his arm as it crumpled underneath him, and as he tried to cry out he
got a mouthful of soot.  Coughing and sputtering, he pushed himself to his feet
with his one good arm.  The orderlies steadied him and helped brush him off, but
he resisted their help.  "Get off me!" he shouted.  "Just leave me alone!  Let me go
home!"

A small pop sounded to his left, and Dr. Altheus appeared in the corridor of St.
Mungo's hospital.  He gave a fatherly smile to Remus who scowled in return,
cradling his injured arm.  He stepped forward, thanked the orderlies and dismissed
them.  They threw a skeptical look toward Remus, but followed their orders.

"So, young man.  You gonna let me take a look at that arm?"

"Why did you bring me here?  Why couldn't you just look at my arm at the
Hammond's house?"  Remus continued cradling his arm, shielding it with his body.

Dr. Altheus gave Remus an apprising look as if trying to decide how much to tell
him.  "Follow me", he said finally, turning away and walking down the hall,
leaving Remus standing there.  He turned left and entered a room.  Remus watched
the doorway where the doctor had disappeared and weighed his options.  No one
was here.  He could make a run for it.  But could he find his way out of the
building?  If he did find his way out, he had no idea where he was.  He finally
decided to follow the doctor and he headed down the hall and through the
doorway.

The room he entered had a small cot-like bed with a small table next to it, bars on
the window and padded walls.  It was a hospital room, but it was also a cell.  Dr.
Altheus was sitting on the bed and motioned for Remus to sit next to him.
Begrudgingly, he did.

As the doctor removed the rag bandage and began to examine Remus' arm, he
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began to ask Remus some questions.  "So.  A werewolf, eh?"  Remus nodded.  "Do
you know what happens to survivors of a werewolf bite?"  Remus paused.  He did
know.  He just hadn't thought about it.  His mind began to reel.  It was all too much
to take - the attack, the death of his best friend, being kidnapped from his parents
and taken here, and now…now the realization that was beginning to set in.

Dr. Altheus, who was now cleaning the wound with a purple liquid, seemed to read
the thoughts passing through Remus' mind.  "Of course, you know, there is always
a chance - a small one - but a chance nonetheless that you'll be ok.  We don't know
why some people escape the effects of the werewolf's bite.  We just know that a
small percentage of people seem to have a natural immunity.  We won't know
which category you fall into until the full moon comes, and that's two weeks from
now.  Until then, you'll have to stay here.  For your safety…and the safety of
others."  He finished by wrapping fresh white gauze around the wound and then
stood up.  "I'm sorry.  I know it's a lot to deal with.  I'll send an orderly to help you
clean up and get you into some fresh clothes.  If you need anything, please call for
me."  He looked at Remus with an expression usually reserved for the condemned,
and he closed the door behind him.  It locked solidly.

Remus walked to the window and leaned his face against the cool metal bars.  He
ignored the orderly that left a washbasin and pajamas near the door as he took his
first look around the St. Mungo's grounds.  The pale glow of the summer twilight
reflected in sparks from a lake at the end of a long rolling meadow.  Fringing the
meadow were tall evergreens that multiplied in the distance to create a forest that
enclosed the estate.  Looking at the building surrounding his window, Remus could
see he was on the second floor of an old brick, L-shaped structure that stretched an
additional three floors above him.  Each window was like his - small, square and
uncovered with the exception of 5 metal bars.  Some windows were dark, but
several were now glowing with flickering candlelight as the sun continued to fall
behind the trees.  That's when he saw the other boy, leaning against a window,
looking back at him.  Remus' heart skipped - there was another boy about his age
here!  Who was he - why was he here?  He stood up straighter, turning to his left to
see the boy more clearly, but the boy withdrew when he realized he'd been noticed.

Remus withdrew from his window too. Darkness had now completely fallen and he
hadn't even noticed that his candle had magically lighted on his bedside table.  He
washed up and put on the pajamas that smelled like medicine.  Blowing out the
candle, he collapsed on the small cot and lay on his back, looking through the bars
at the sky lit by a glowing half moon.  Two weeks.  In two weeks he would know if
that moon was his friend or not.  A cloud floated slowly over the half-showing face
of the moon, and Remus remembered that it was only this morning that he lay on
his back watching clouds.  This morning.  Before the woods.  Before the werewolf.

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Before the King died.  Before he was taken from his parents.  In one day, his entire
life had changed.

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Chapter 9
The Friend and the Enemy

For the first several days, Remus did not leave his room.  He was allowed to leave
for meals or to visit the common room during certain hours, but he preferred to sit
alone, looking out between the bars.  He didn't want to look at anyone or talk to
anyone.

His parents came to visit, and he was grateful for their presence, but still he rarely
spoke.  He just sat, leaning against his mother or listening to his father attempting
to talk about normal things.  "The Wasps are favoured to do quite well this season.
Bagman's decided to stay on another year as beater!"

He did finally leave his room to walk them back to the fireplace (you had to have a
special apparating license to apparate within the hospital grounds) and that's when
he saw the boy again, sitting in the common room.

He said goodbye to his parents, held his mother a little tighter and a little longer
than usual, and after they disappeared in a swirl of soot, he entered the common
room.

The boy in the chair had small black eyes, and Remus winced as they reminded
him of the King.  But this boy was very small, a little heavy, and had a pointed
face.  Remus plopped down in a chair across from the boy.  

"Hi.  Wanna play some chess?"  

The boy looked at Remus with a nervous, unsure gaze. "I - I guess s-so."  

"What're you in here for?" asked Remus, indicating the hospital surroundings with
a flick of his eyes as he moved the battered chessboard to a table between them.  

"Just been sick", replied the boy.  "I'm sick a lot."  

"Oh", said Remus.  "Well, I'm Remus.  Who're you?"

"Peter", the boy replied.  "Peter Pettigrew."  

As they began to play, Peter started to relax.  He didn't ask Remus why he was
here, and for the first time in days, Remus didn't think about what had happened.  It
felt good.

The orderlies soon came and ushered everyone back to their rooms.  Remus looked

22
back at Peter - "You wanna play again tomorrow?"

Peter nodded vigorously, happy to have made a friend.

When Remus returned to his room, he looked out of his window.  Peter was
looking back.  They boys waved to each other and could just make out the grin
they shared.

Having Peter to eat meals with and play chess with made the next week nearly
bearable.  He went to bed one Saturday night, having not thought about the
werewolf all day.  He sighed happily and rolled over in his cot, trying to hide his
eyes from the light shining through his window.  The light from the moon.  The
light from a full moon.  His eyes suddenly flew wide open.

23
Chapter 10
The Change

It started in his hands.  Pain beyond imagination coursed up his arms as the bones
in his fingers elongated, nails and blood erupting from the tips forming long razor-
sharp claws.  His skin prickled as if on fire as course gray hairs shot from every
pore on his body.  He sat bolt upright in bed, wracked with pain, staring in horror
at what had once been the hands of a nine-year-old boy.  

He opened his mouth to scream, but the sound that reached his ears was unearthly.
A long, high-pitched howling roar ripped through the air and seemed to make the
very walls around him shake.  By now, his feet were growing, claws curling
downward and the pain that had at first only been in his arms was now rushing up
his legs in waves of agony.

His back began to broaden, muscles inflating like balloons so quickly that Remus
thought the ripping of his pajamas might actually be his skin splitting.  

And then…his face began to change.  A whole new world of pain opened to
Remus as every bone in his face seemed to be breaking into great splintered shards
that moved under his skin.  He fell out of his bed and rolled on the floor, writhing
from the torment his body was enduring.  His brow grew downward over his eyes,
and his nose and mouth surged forward into a long, thin snout.  Saber-like canines
ruptured from his jaws in a spurt of blood and saliva.  Remus curled back his lips,
exposing them as another howling roar split the night.

24
Chapter 11
The Escape

He lay on the floor panting with hoarse, growling breaths until the transformation
was complete and the pain had subsided.  Slowly he raised himself, feeling
awkward with his new limbs, his new size.  He lunged at the door, clawing at the
handle, but it did not budge.  He snarled in frustration and bit repeatedly at the
padding on the wall, pulling out great chunks and shaking them ferociously.

He turned to the window and lunged.  One of his great hairy hands plunged
between the bars and burst through the glass, sending it showering to the ground
below.  He pulled with all his might against the metal rods and wrenched one of
them free.  Candlelight flickered suddenly a few windows away, and the outline of
a small boy could be seen standing and staring out.

Just then a voice startled him.  "Remus!  Remus, it's Dr. Altheus.  Calm down…it'll
be alright…calm down", the doctor chanted in a would-be soothing voice.

Remus stopped for a moment and turned back to the door.  A small panel had been
moved to the side and he could make out a pair of eyes on the other side.  "That's it
Remus, calm down."  Remus hurled himself back at the door in a frenzied rage,
and the panel slammed quickly shut.  The voice, sounding more muffled now,
continued its chant.  "Remus, calm down…it'll be alright."  But Remus did not stop
to listen.  He turned back to the window, wrestled another bar from the frame and
dove through the opening, falling two stories to the ground below.

Once on the ground, Remus pulled off the remnants of his pajama top, threw it on
the ground and began to run across the rolling lawn of St. Mungo's. He threw his
great black nose into the air and sniffed deeply.  Had the air always smelled so
rich, so full?  How could he have not noticed this before?  

Even without the increased acuity in his hearing he would have heard the alarm
ringing across the hospital grounds.  Doors were flying open from every corner of
the building as hospital workers and security wizards poured out like ants.  Other
orderlies were apparating ahead of him, trying to cut him off.  They carried nets
and had their wands pulled out.  

"Stupefy!" one of the orderlies yelled, and a red jet skimmed past Remus' shoulder.
Angered, Remus swept his great claws at the man's outstretched wand hand as he
raced past, nearly severing it from his arm.  He pushed past another that was trying
to throw a net over him, and the man hurtled 20 feet before landing on the grass.

But even more security wizards were apparating now, and several yelled in unison,
"Stupefy!"  Several red jets joined in air and struck Remus directly in the chest,
25
lifting him off of his feet and throwing him onto his back where he lay stunned and
motionless.

26
Chapter 12
The Voice Through the Door

"Ennervate"

Remus heard the word as if it were spoken in a tunnel far away.  He felt power
surge back through his body and gasped a sudden deep breath.  He suddenly
remembered he was engaged in a battle and he tried to get to his feet, but he
couldn't.  Something was binding his arms and legs.  He struggled against
whatever it was to no avail.

"Remus, calm down.  I'm sorry, but we've had to place you in a restrictive jacket
for your own protection."  D r. Altheus was kneeling next to him, speaking softly.
"You won't change back to yourself for another 36 hours.  I'm afraid the room was
not exactly…werewolf proof.  So we'll have to use restraints until you change
back.  I'm really, really sorry."

Remus curled his lips and growled menacingly.  He couldn't understand what this
person was saying, and he didn't care.  He needed to run.  He needed to fight.  He
struggled against his restraints again.

The doctor stood up.  "I know you can't really comprehend what I'm saying, but
you'll be alright.  You're not hurt.  I'll have some food and water sent down in a
little while.  Meanwhile, try not to struggle."  He left the room and the door shut
solidly behind him.

Remus bent his neck, trying to get his snout down to gnaw at his bindings when
another noise came muffled through the door.  He couldn't understand it, but it was
soft, soothing and he stopped struggling trying to listen.  The voice continued for
quite some time in its rhythmic constancy.  

Finally another voice said, "Peter, it's dinner time.  Why don't you return to your
room now."

"Can I stay a while?  I'm feeling much better.  I can eat right here.  I - I think it
helps him."

Remus' door opened.  Dr. Altheus was standing there with a tray of food; Peter was
sitting cross-legged on the floor holding a book.  The doctor entered and placed the
tray on the ground near Remus' head and helped him onto his knees so he could
bend over and eat, carefully avoiding the snapping jaws.  As the doctor left, Remus
buried his face in his food and ate greedily.

27
The door had closed again and the rhythmic voice began once more.  Remus
inched his body to the crack between door and floor and propped his head there to
hear it better.  He liked the voice.  It felt warm and comforting.  

During the next day and a half, Remus drifted into fitful dreams of running from
people with nets and wands, of worlds filled with powerful smells and magnified
sounds.  He would awake with a jolt, still bound, still lying on the floor.  And
hearing the voice on the other side of the door still flowing like a melody, he would
relax again.

28
Chapter 13
The Return

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but his brain began to make sense
of the words that drifted through the crack under the door.
               
"So Tom's Aunt Polly…",

but then he lost it again.

"...when Mrs. Phelps took me for Tom Sawyer..."  

There it was again.  Someone was reading, and he could understand what was said.

"And his Aunt Polly she said Tom was right about..."  

Someone was definitely reading on the other side of this door.  

Remus tried to sit up, but found he was bound tightly.  Why?  What had happened?
He called out in a croaky voice, "Hello?  Can anyone hear me?"  The voice on the
other side of the door stopped abruptly and started calling out, "Dr. Altheus, come
quick!"  The clattering of footsteps running on the hard linoleum floor echoed
down the hall.

The door swung open and Dr. Altheus, Peter and a nurse were standing outside.
The doctor swooped down and began to untie the bindings that held Remus still.
"Welcome back, my boy!" he said with a relieved grin.

"Where was I?" asked Remus, groggily.  "I had the strangest dreams - smells and
sounds and running.  It doesn't make any…"  But suddenly his mind began to put it
together.  The last thing he could remember was the moon.  The full moon.  And
then unbearable pain.

His joints ached from being restrained, and as his scattered memories flooded back
to him, he absently massaged his shoulders.  He looked up at Peter.  "And I
remember a voice, talking and talking - it was you, wasn't it, Peter."

"I r-read to you.  You seemed to like it.  At least, it made you quiet."

"But…why?"

"Well, you're my friend, aren't you?  I haven't ever really had a friend before, but I

29
expect that when you have one, you should stick by them.  No matter what."

Remus looked down and pretended to massage his stiff ankles, hoping that the
others did not notice the furious blinking of his eyes.  When he thought he could do
so safely he said, "Thanks."

Dr. Altheus helped Remus to his feet.  "Feel up to a bit of a stroll?  You have some
visitors."  Remus wobbled for a moment, found his balance, and stepped into the
brightly lit corridor.

30
Chapter 14
The Reunion

His mother and father were standing by the fireplace, stricken with worry.  They
looked apprehensively at their son - was he different now?  Were they still a
family?

Remus paused for a moment, wondering similar questions.  Did they see him
differently?  How could they not.  He was a werewolf now, not a boy…not a son.
But he was a boy, he was their son!  Would they still love him?

His mother made the first move.  She fell to her knees and threw her arms open
with a strangled cry, "Oh, Remus!" and Remus flew into her embrace.  His dad
knelt down and joined them, the three of them standing, holding each other, not
speaking.

A strong sniffle and a throaty "Ahem!" allowed Dr. Altheus to find his voice.  "Mr.
and Mrs. Lupin, Remus…I have some good news and some, well, not so good
news.  The good news is, you're going home today Remus."  

Mr. and Mrs. Lupin, still kneeling, turned their eyes up to meet Remus' and the
three of them grinned broadly.  Then Remus broke away from their embrace and
walked over to Peter.  "I'll really miss you, Peter.  And I'll never forget what you
did for me.  I hope…I hope we can see each other again."  

Peter nodded, blinking hard, as a witch and wizard walked up behind him, putting
a hand on Peter's shoulder.    "I'm going home today too.  I'm well now.  But
maybe…?"  He looked up hopefully at his parents.  His mother wore a strained
expression, her pursed lips forcing into a smile.  "We'll…see, Peter" and she turned
him away from the Lupins.  As they walked away, Remus could hear her trailing
voice saying, "Now, let's get your things shall we?  And you must remember how
important it is, Peter, to make the right kinds of friends, hm?"  Remus stood,
realizing that for the rest of his life, this would be the reaction of others towards
him.

"Now", said Dr. Altheus, "for the bad news.  Remus, you are a werewolf, and
nothing I can do can change that.  I promise you, I will try my best to help you and
I'll send owls to every specialist I know.  If there are cures or potions that could
help, we'll find them.  In the meantime, you'll have to return here each month at the
full moon, so we can control you during your transformation."

Remus nodded.  He was going home, and right now, that's all he cared about.  He
would worry about the moon later.

31
32
Chapter 15
The Letter

For the next two years, Remus returned to St. Mungo's each month and endured his
painful, frightening transformations.  Dr. Altheus researched tirelessly, but as yet,
nothing that could help him had been found.

Although he was happy to be able to spend most of his time at home with his
parents, Remus had few friends.  He was lonely, and it seemed that this would
never change.  He had not seen Peter since leaving the hospital.  He knew that
Peter's parents were like those of all the other children his age - they did not want
their child exposed to a dangerous werewolf.

He came inside on a warm July day to get a glass of pumpkin juice, and his mother
was sitting at the kitchen table, an odd expression on her face.  "Remus, come and
sit down.  I need to talk to you."  Remus approached, feeling a bit nervous.
Something was wrong.

"I don't really know where to begin…" she said.  "I guess with this."  She pushed a
letter written on heavy parchment toward him.  In emerald green ink, the letter
started:

Dear Mr. Lupin,

You have been accepted to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry…

Remus dropped the letter on the table and stared open-mouthed at his mother.
"But, how…? What about…?"

"I've spoken with Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster.  He's worked the whole
thing out.  Oh, there will be several precautions taken to make sure you are safe
during the full moon, but other than that, you'll be able to attend school with other
children your age.  The finest school of witchcraft and wizardry.  And…Peter will
be there."

Remus couldn't believe it.  He was going to school.  He was going to learn magic.
He was going to have friends.  Remus felt something that he hadn't felt in two
years.  Something he had thought he would never feel again, had almost forgotten
about.  Hope.  He had hope, and that's the most anybody can have for their future.

The End?  Or just the beginning?

33
34
 The
Forgotten
Memory

35
36
 The Forgotten Memory

Chapter 1 - The Dream

It happened on his second birthday.  Most people don’t remember things that
happen on their second birthdays, but there was a part of his mind that would never
let go, no matter how many memory charms were placed on him.  He always
seemed to remember in his dreams.  Vivid, terrible images and sounds would
bubble up from deep within his brain, bursting forth into his conscious mind only
when it was off guard.  Tonight was such a night.

His eyelids were closed tightly, but beneath them his eyes rolled madly in their
sockets, reconstructing the scene as it had been 12 years ago.  He saw the old
house so clearly.  His hands were placed on two of the white spindles of the
banister that gently arced down the side of the staircase, his face pressed between
them and hidden in shadows.  He could see the old floral couch where he and his
mother used to sit together at night as she read to him until he fell asleep in her
arms.  He could see his father’s favourite chair, so worn and tattered from years of
use that stuffing was peeking out between the brittle cracks of the cordovan.  On
the small side table laid a burled walnut pipe and a copy of the Daily Prophet.  A
small wisp of smoke still curled from the end of the pipe.  

The walls, papered with pale stripes, were populated with pictures of the three of
them enjoying happy times.  A picture of him opening a Christmas present.  His
mother guiding him in his first steps.  His father tickling him and laughing.
Forever laughing in a black, shiny frame.  But the sound he was hearing now was
not laughter.

In the center of the cluster of pictures was the large oval mirror, and it was here
that the rest of the dream always took place.  It was here, reflected in this mirror,
that Neville could see why the air was filled with the screams of his parents.

37
Chapter Two
The Cruciatus Curse

“Where is he?” asked a man in a black cloak to a crumbled form on the floor.  “We
know you’ve been following the rumors.  We know you’ve located his hiding
place.  We’ll find him, with or without your help…so why don’t you save yourself
all this pain and suffering.  Just tell us where he is and we’ll leave you and your
pretty little wife alone.”

The form on the floor was panting hoarsely.  “She…doesn’t…know…anything!”

he gasped, his sides heaving from the effort.

“Then you admit that you know something?  Frank, Frank, Frank…you’ve been
lying to us, haven’t you?”  The man sounded like a disappointed father talking to a
disobedient child.  “And you know what we do to liars, don’t you?”  His voice
remained in the silky, patronizing tone as he pointed his wand at Frank
Longbottom and said, “Crucio!”

Neville clapped his hands over his ears, trying to block the tortured screams of his
father, and the scene went black as his eyes shut tight.  Not wanting to look again,
but not able to stop himself, Neville opened his eyes once more and watched the
scene reflected in the mirror.
 
His father was still writhing on the floor, his mother sobbing and struggling to
reach him.  A witch with long, stringy black hair that concealed most of her face
was restraining his mother, but she broke free and flung herself onto her husband
in an attempt to shield him from the curse that wracked his body.

A third stranger, a younger man with sandy hair, grabbed his mother roughly by
the arms and raised her up to face him.  “Where is the Dark Lord?” he yelled,
shaking her roughly.  “Tell us or we’ll kill him!”

Neville could clearly see his mother’s face in the silver glass.  He could see her red
eyes, wide with terror, her skin pale and bloodless as she stared into the face of
madness.  But as Neville continued watching his mother, he saw a change occur in
her.  Her pale face suddenly flushed and her eyes narrowed as a steely resolve
flooded through her.  Her voice shook in uncontrolled anger as she replied, “Even
if I knew, I wouldn’t tell scum like you”, and then she spit in the young man’s
face.  The sandy-haired wizard removed one of the hands grasping Neville’s
mother and hit her across the face, sending her reeling backwards as a spray of
blood trailed behind.  She dropped out of the mirror’s reflection, and Neville could
only hear what followed.

38
“Crucio!” yelled the wizard, whose pale face and freckles Neville could now see in
the mirror.  His mother’s screamed ripped through the air and tore into Neville’s
very soul.  He couldn’t understand what was happening.  All he knew was that his
parents were being hurt and he could take no more.  He stood up from behind the
banister of the staircase and screamed, “NO!”  At that moment a wave of force
seemed to explode from within Neville, blasting through the house.  The mirror
shattered, a vase on the mantle flew across the room and smashed against the wall,
the windows rattled violently as the entire house shuddered.  The three intruders
spun around to look at tiny Neville, standing on the staircase in his pajamas, and
for just a moment there was utter silence in the house.  Neville’s mother struggled
to her knees, supporting her weak, tortured body on a chair.  “Run, Neville,
RUN!”, she cried.  That would be the last time he would ever hear her speak his
name.  As the Death Eaters made a move toward Neville, his father mustered the
last of his strength and flung himself upon them.  Neville turned to run and sat bolt
upright in bed.

39
Chapter 3
The Breakthrough
Neville laid awake for the remainder of the night. He had never remembered the
scene so clearly before, and his mind kept working over the details. His mother’s
face, his father’s heroic effort to save him, and perhaps most terrifying of all, the
burst of power that had come from deep within him. He had never felt power like
that before. He had never felt particularly magical, in fact, and often doubted his
abilities to complete his studies here at Hogwarts. But there was no denying that
one night more than 12 years ago, when he was just a toddler, Neville had certainly
displayed an awesome magical force.

Neville sat up and pulled open his bed curtains. On his bedside table was a book –
Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. It had been leant to him by Professor
Moody after yesterday’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class. During that class,
something had happened to Neville. Something had broken free. Professor Moody
had been showing the class the Unforgivable Curses, and when he had performed
the Cruciatus Curse, a part of Neville’s mind opened itself up to him. He was sure
this is why the dream had been so detailed…so complete…and why he could still
remember the details even now, while he was awake.

Harry, Ron and the others were still asleep. Neville dressed quietly and slipped out
of the common room. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. He needed
time to think, to deal with these memories, so raw and painful. He went down to
the greenhouses, to be alone with his thoughts.

40
Chapter 4
The Hospital
Neville and Gran stood outside the white metal door of his parent’s hospital room.
“Now Neville”, Gran was saying as she adjusted the large stuffed vulture on top of
her hat, “did you remember to bring that photo of you with your herbology
project?”

“Yes, Gran”, Neville replied in a near-weary voice. The strange thing was, he did
remember. In fact, he seemed to be remembering everything lately. He had
remembered to do all of his homework assignments for the entire week. He even
remembered to add the porcupine quills to his potion after he removed his cauldron
from the flame, and for the first time had not caused a catastrophe in Potions. Of
course, Snape had still deducted 5 points from Gryffindor, accusing Hermione of
interfering. But the truth was, ever since that dream things had been clearer for
Neville. It seemed as though he was fully awake for the first time.

Things had changed magically for Neville as well. When he attempted spells, they
actually worked. Even Professor McGonagall couldn’t complain about the teapot
he’d transfigured into a rabbit. His clear mind was allowing his magical powers to
focus and work properly.

He pushed open the door and entered his parent’s room. His mother was standing
by the window, the morning sun washing over her face and reflecting from her
golden hair. She would have looked beautiful had it not been for the blank
expression on her face and the dull, lifeless eyes that roved in Neville’s direction at
the sound of the door.

Neville winced. There was a time when seeing her like this would have seemed
normal. But now, in the wake of that dream, he remembered her differently. He
remembered a time when she was full of life. He remembered a time when she was
terrified, but defiant. He remembered her last words as she tried to protect him. He
looked away to stop his heart from bursting with pain.

His father was seated at a table. He looked as though he was about to take an exam.
His feet were placed evenly side-by-side directly under the table. He sat fully erect,
hands folded tightly in front of him, eyes staring at a picture on the wall. It was a
crude drawing in bright colors of a crooked house with a stick-figure family in
front of it and an owl circling the chimney.

Neville walked forward, kissed his mother on the cheek and placed a hand on his
father’s shoulder. Neither showed any response.

“I remember drawing that”, Neville remarked as his eyes followed his father’s gaze

41
to the childish artwork on the wall. “That was our old owl, Mercury.”

“You…you do?” asked Gran in a would-be casual tone. She was fidgeting with the
strap of her handbag.

“Yeah. I remember Mercury giving me a good nip for pulling his tail feathers
once! I never saw him again after…after that night.” Neville was too caught in the
memory of his childhood to notice the panicked look on Gran’s face.

“Um, Neville, dear”, she said, her voice light but wavering ever-so-slightly, “I
need to just run down the hall and check on some things. I won’t be but a
moment.”

“Ok, Gran”, Neville replied as he continued staring at the picture he’d drawn when
he was a happy toddler with two healthy and loving parents.

42
Chapter 5
The Secret

Neville sat nervously in the doctor’s office.  His Gran was standing behind him,
still twisting the strap of her red handbag with a stricken look on her face.  His
Great-Uncle Algie had just arrived, his wife Enid next to him.  Both had very
serious expressions on their faces, and Neville couldn’t escape the feeling that
somehow he was in very big trouble.

Dr. Altheus, an old and tired looking wizard, was sitting behind his desk, head
resting on tented fingers.  “Well, I think we’re all here now.  Neville, your
Grandmother tells me that you’ve started remembering things…things about your
childhood.  Is this true?”

Neville looked a little startled.  He hadn’t realized the changes in him had been so
noticeable.  But even if they were – why would everyone care so much?  Wouldn’t
they want him to remember things and to act like everyone else?

“Um.  Yeah, I guess so.  I had a dream last week, and since then, things have been
sort of clearer.  And today I remembered about our old pet owl.”

“I see”, continued the doctor.  “And this dream – what can you tell us about it?”

Neville paused a moment, not because talking about the attack on his parents upset
him, but because he thought it would upset his grandmother.  “It was about…about
the night my parents were…hurt.”  He threw a nervous look at his grandmother,
still wringing her handbag’s worn handle.

“Hmm.  And since then, you’ve started remembering other things as well?  Things
other than what happened that night?”

“Yes, like I said, I remembered about Mercury, our owl, today when I was in Mom
and Dad’s room.”  Neville looked around nervously at everyone in the room.  “I
don’t understand what’s going on.  Why do you care if I remember about Mercury?
Why shouldn’t I remember the night my parents were attacked?  I’m ok about it.
I’m not falling to pieces or anything.”

Dr. Altheus looked at the elderly man sitting to Neville’s left and said, “Algie,
perhaps this is best coming from you.”

Neville looked at his Great Uncle Algie with a bit of surprise and curiosity as the
old man hung his head and sighed deeply.

43
“Neville”, he began, “your parents were deeply involved in fighting You-Know-
Who and his supporters.”

“I know that”, interrupted Neville impatiently.  “Everyone knows that – that’s why
they were attacked!”

“Not entirely.  Your parents were the keepers of some extremely valuable
information.  We don’t know what that information was – no one does.  No one
except them…and you.”

“Me?  I know something about You-Know-Who?  That’s impossible…I was just a

baby!”

“Your parents knew that if they were captured they would be tortured for
information.  And whatever this information was, they couldn’t risk revealing it.
So they used you as their secret keeper.  They imparted this secret to you, and
unless you chose to reveal it, no one could make them tell it no matter what.  After
your parents were injured, we feared for your safety.  We didn’t want anyone to
know you held this secret.  So…while we were here at St. Mungo’s arranging for
the care of your parents, we asked Dr. Altheus to place a memory charm on you, so
that you would never remember this secret.”

Something funny was happening in Neville’s brain.  People around him were still
talking, but like the day in Professor Moody’s class, time was acting funny and the
room around him was dissolving. He could see his mother and father kneeling
before him.  His father had his wand out and said some funny words, and Neville’s
insides felt squirmy.  His mother was looking in his eyes and was telling him…
telling him that –

“Obliviate!”  

Dr. Altheus’ spell shot across the room and struck Neville squarely in the chest.
Neville was pushed back against his chair, nearly spilling backwards from the
force of it.  His eyes slid out of focus, the room went blurry, and then Neville gave
his head a shake as if it were filled with cobwebs.

He looked around.  He was in an office.  His relatives were with him.  But why?

“Gran?  What happened?  Why are we all here?”

“Oh, dear boy.  We’re at St. Mungo’s and you gave us the most awful fright!  We
were visiting your parents and you slipped and hit your head.  Dr. Altheus here has
been tending to you.  Don’t you remember, dear?  Oh, not to worry – you’re right

44
as rain now!”  And his grandmother came over, gave him a hug and kiss, and
helped him up to his feet.  “Thanks ever so much, Dr. Altheus.  I’ll just take him
home and fix him a nice cup of tea and a plate of cookies.”

Neville started heading for the door with her when Dr. Altheus spoke up.  “Neville
– is this your wand?  You must have dropped it.”  Neville turned and nodded
embarrassedly, walking back to retrieve his wand.  

“That’s our Neville!” said Gran.  “Always forgetting things!”

Fini

45
46
 A
Traitor
Among
Friends

47
48
A Traitor Among Friends
Chapter 1
The Charm

He stood nearly unnoticed in the corner, watching the scene unfold before him. His
black eyes darted nervously from face to face, finally coming to rest on
Dumbledore. The old wizard had finished what he was saying, the full weight of
the news resting heavily on the others in the room. Of course, it wasn’t news to
him, but he tried to look surprised anyway. Dumbledore removed his half-moon
glasses and rubbed his eyes, leaving his hands covering his face for a moment.

“Are you sure, Albus? You’re sure that it’s us?” asked a witch sitting across from
the headmaster, her green eyes boring into his hidden face. Dumbledore breathed
deeply as he removed his hands, his eyes looking bloodshot and weary.

“I have…an insider. I trust his information completely, and he is positive that your
family is next. We must take precautions, Lily.”

Lily looked up at a man standing behind her. He had just put his hand on her
shoulder, his bespectacled gaze trying to offer strength and reassurance. “James…
where will we go? How can we possibly hide from him? And Harry - he’s so little,
so defenseless!”

James looked at Dumbledore with determination. “What do you suggest, Albus?”

Here it comes, thought the man in the corner. This was the moment he’d been
waiting for. He shifted his position out of excitement, but no one took notice of
him. Come on, old man. Spill it.

Dumbledore rose slowly to his feet and began to pace with his hands behind his
back. “I’ve spent a great deal of time considering the alternatives, James, and I
think your best hope is the Fidelius Charm. You, Lily, and Harry will go into
hiding, but you are to tell no one where you are, except for the one you select to be
your Secret Keeper. Perform the charm, and as long as your Secret Keeper does
not divulge your location, no one will be able to find you – even if they look right
through your kitchen window during your morning coffee!”

James looked down at Lily again, who nodded slightly, and then replied, “That
sounds perfect, Dumbledore. Who should we use?”

“I offer myself to be your Secret…”

“No, Dumbledore!” came a deep growl of a voice. “I’ll be their Secret Keeper.

49
Voldemort hasn’t a chance of making me talk. I’ll take their location to the grave
with me.”

“Thank you, Sirius," said James as they embraced like brothers. Lily stood now,
kissed Sirius on the cheek and whispered a “Thank you” through a throat tight with
worry. The three of them now turned and faced the man that had been watching
from the corner. “And thank you too, Peter,” said Lily as she stepped lightly over
and kissed him on the cheek.

“Wh-what for?” he asked, startled by the sudden attention. He had done nothing,
after all. Said nothing. Why should they thank him? If they knew what was on his
mind, they certainly wouldn’t. He tried to wipe those thoughts quickly from his
brain and put on his best façade, smiling weakly at Lily as he did so.

“Why, for being here today. For supporting us! You and Sirius are our dearest
friends. We’d never make it through this without you.”

As his friends surrounded him and began moving towards the door, Peter smiled
nervously again and began formulating his plan.

50
Chapter 2
The Switch

“Why did you call me here, Peter?” Sirius leaned heavily on top of the worn
wooden table, rolling the glass of fire whiskey between his fingers. Madame
Rosmerta placed a gillywater in front of Peter before turning on her sparkling heels
and returning to the bar. Peter took a deep breath and a drink, steeling his nerve
and steadying his voice. He couldn’t blow this. He just couldn’t.

“Well, Sirius, I’ve been thinking…”

“You want to be careful about that Peter. That’s never really been your strong suit,
has it?” The corner of Sirius’ mouth curled upwards and his eyes twinkled
mischievously. Then, after seeing the serious look on Peter’s face, he added,
“Sorry, old friend. Apparently this is not a joking matter…”

“No, Sirius, it really isn’t. As I said, I’ve been thinking…and it seems to me that
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is sure to know that you are the Potter’s Secret
Keeper.”

“Don’t worry about me, Peter! I can handle anything Voldemort throws my way,"
replied Sirius casually, leaning far back in his chair, causing it to rock back onto its
two rear legs.

Peter winced when he heard Voldemort’s name. Even he never used it; he who’d
been in the Dark Lord’s presence scores of times never dared to utter it aloud.

“Yes, well, I don’t doubt that you can, Sirius. You’ve always been brave, even by
Gryffindor standards, and strong too. But, the Dark Lord…he has powers – at least
I’ve heard he has powers – that we can’t even dream of…”

Sirius sat forward again, bringing his chair back down with a thud loud enough for
two witches at the bar to glance their way. “Peter, I would die before I betrayed
Lily, James and Harry. I don’t care what powers Voldemort has. He will never get
me to reveal their secret.”

“But Sirius, what if he could break the Fidelius Charm without you voluntarily
revealing the information? Can we take that risk? Think of James and Lily, Sirius.
Think of little Harry, your godson!”

“What are you getting at, Peter?” asked Sirius, sounding a bit confused.

“What if we switched, Sirius. What if I became the Potter’s Secret Keeper?

51
Voldemort would never suspect that I was the one! They won’t even think to
question me. They know I’m not strong and powerful like you. Then, if they
caught you, the Death Eaters would never be able to extract the information,
because you wouldn’t have it! It’s brilliant, really.”

Peter stopped and held his breath, his heart pounding from the effort of staying
calm. Had it worked? He wasn’t sure yet. He tried hard to discern the look on
Sirius’ face. Sirius’ brow was furrowed, his head bent down, looking at the scarred
wooden table but not seeing it.

“You. The Potter’s Secret Keeper…”

“I know it sounds impossible, Sirius, but that’s –”

“Why it just might work," finished Sirius. He looked up from the table, a small
light kindling in his dark eyes. “You have been thinking, old friend. It’s a very
clever plan indeed. An extra layer of protection. By the time the Death Eaters
realize I don’t have the information and come looking for you, Lily and James
could have moved to a new location.”

“Yes, well, hopefully it won’t come to all that, Sirius," said Peter, trying his best to
play the part of cowardly hero.

The two friends raised their glasses and toasted to the plan, while Peter’s mind
whispered excitedly, it worked, my Lord…it worked…

52
Chapter 3
The Turning Point

Peter placed his hand on the wrought iron gate and looked up at the brick two-
story, ivy sprawling across its broad face. An army of elm trees surrounded the
house, arms spread wide as if to guard against intruders. The house was old, but
the land even older. This glen had once housed the great Godric Gryffindor himself
and still emanated an eerie power. James and Harry Potter, as Godric’s last blood
descendents, were, by birthright, owners of the Hollow. James and Harry. All of
this came down to them.

Peter had known James since his first year at Hogwarts. He, James, Sirius, and
Remus Lupin – the Marauders. He had loved them like brothers. Physically weak
and not very magical or academically gifted, he had relied on his friends and they
had always been there for him, protecting him, helping him. They had stayed up all
night with him, studying for final exams. They had helped him to become an
animagus when his natural talent, or lack thereof, would have made that seem
impossible. They had prevented Slytherin bullies like Severus Snape from making
his life a living hell.

But they couldn’t protect him now. Even if he tried to explain, they’d never
understand. People that are strong don’t understand the challenges of the world for
those who are not.

After school they had developed lives of their own. Remus was usually unable to
stay in one place for very long. Sirius, having always been a free spirit, was always
on some exciting trip on his motorcycle. And James had married Lily and started a
family. Oh, they all tried to keep in touch, that was true. But there was no denying
that Peter was alone much of the time, and of all of his friends, it was James he
envied most.

And now, in an ironic twist, it was because of James and his son Harry that he was
in this mess. The Dark Lord would never have approached him if it weren’t for
them. He wasn’t powerful enough for someone like Voldemort to concern himself
with, unless he needed something Peter could provide. And what Voldemort
needed was the Potters dead.

So, Voldemort had come in the night to Peter’s house. He would never forget it.
The turning point of his life had begun with fear. His front door had swung
violently open with a bang. The light from the full moon outlined the silhouette of
a tall, slender figure in his doorway, flanked by three others. Lowering the hood
that shrouded his face, he strode into Peter’s house.

53
“Peter, hello. I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced…I am Lor-”

“I-I know who you are!” he had replied from behind the refuge of his armchair. He
was petrified; sure he was about to be murdered. “Wh-what do you w-want? I have
n-nothing!”

The Dark Lord had seated himself across from the chair Peter was using as a
shield. “Peter, Peter, that’s where you are wrong. You do have something I want.
And I have something you want. Now, why don’t you come out from behind that
chair and learn about your future.”

And it was a brilliant future indeed. The Death Eaters provided a level of
protection and power a hundred times that of James and the other Marauders. And,
really, what were his options? To fight Voldemort? There would be no point in that
– he’d be dead! So he sat and listened. Listened to Voldemort’s need to remove the
Potters from his path to total power. Listened to the promises of being a part of that
network of the most powerful wizards and witches ever created. Peter had never
felt more alive than he had that night.

So, here he stood now, outside Godric’s Hollow, about to put into action the plan
that had begun that night a year ago, when he had met his fate. On one side of that
gate was his childhood friend, a man that had stood by him for more than 10 years.
On the other was ultimate power, a level of safety – of belonging – he couldn’t
have dreamed existed. He opened the gate and walked through.

54
Chapter 4
The Secret Keeper

Lily was sitting on the couch, little Harry on her lap giggling madly as they played
a tickling game. She beamed up at Peter as he entered the living room, the
flickering light from three floating candles dancing on her long auburn hair. He
smiled nervously back, feeling the familiar flush of heat he always felt when Lily
Evans graced him with a smile. For some reason he would always think of her as
Lily Evans, even though she and James had been married for several years.

Lily sat Harry on the couch and swept towards Peter. “James! You could at least
have taken Peter’s cloak!” She helped him remove his cloak and hung it on a hook
near the front door. “There. Now, what can I get you Peter? A gillywater? Or
something stronger, perhaps?”

“The gillywater would be fine, Lily, thanks," Peter replied. As she left for the
kitchen, Peter sat down next to Harry. The boy looked up at him, uttering a stream
of words that apparently had meaning for him, and offered him the stuffed owl he
was holding. Peter took it with a “Thank you, Harry!” A moment later, Harry had
squirmed his way to the floor and was tottering after his mother. So full of life,
thought Peter, watching him go. And another voice in his head replied, But not for
long.

Lily returned, Harry in her arms. “Let me just run upstairs and put Harry to bed.
Then we can get started.” James stoked the fire in the fireplace and sat in a
wingchair nearby with his hands facing the flames, taking in the warmth. “October
has brought quite a chill to the air! I’d forgotten how much cooler it is in the
country.” He abruptly changed topics, looking at Peter with a face filled with
concern. “Peter, are you sure you want to do this? I know you and Sirius have this
half-cooked notion that this plan provides extra protection for my family, but it
places you in grave danger. If Voldemort catches you – ”

“It’s ok, James. You-Know-Who won’t come looking for me. This is the least I can
do for you. All the times you protected me in school…”

“I protected you from bullies and bad grades…that’s nothing compared to

Voldemort! Are you sure you’re prepared?” Just then Lily rejoined them, placing
both arms around James and whispering to him, “He was asleep before his head hit
the pillow. Apparently, he takes after his father…”
Peter suddenly felt quite alone again. “Yes”, he replied, “I’m prepared for what I
have to do.” Lily looked up and gave him her signature smile, and he forced the
corners of his mouth up in return.

55
“All right then”, said James as Lily sat on the couch next to Peter and they formed
a small circle. “No charm is based more on friendship and trust than the Fidelius
Charm. It depends on the absolute fidelity of the Secret Keeper, and we know we
can count on that from you, Peter.” Lily had been looking at James as he spoke,
and now turned to Peter and nodded solemnly. “First, place this piece of parchment
in your right hand, Peter, and hold it tightly. On it I’ve written ‘Godric’s Hollow’,
and it will represent the secret to be kept. Next, we stack our left hands in the
center. Mine first, then Lily’s, and then yours, Peter.” James wrapped a golden
cord around their hands and picked up his wand. “Fidelius arcanum.” A golden
light spread from the wand, around the hands that were bound together, and flowed
through the house until it was as bright as midday. When the light faded, James
removed the cord that bound the trio and Peter opened his right hand. The
parchment had disappeared. “Now that secret is hidden in you, Peter, and my
family is safe.”

What Peter really felt was hidden in him was lead. The weight of the secret – not
the Potter’s secret but his own – was filling him as he looked at the happy and
contented faces of two people that had always treated him like a member of their
family and had just placed their lives in his hands. But, he reminded himself, he
was not a member of their family, or any other. He lived alone, ate alone, and had
to face Lord Voldemort alone. In his current life, he had nothing. But down the
path of his new master, he had a family among the Death Eaters and the promise of
power that had never been open to him before.

He suddenly realized he was perspiring. Was it the heat from the fireplace making
the room so unbearably stifling, or was his secret burning at what was left of his
conscience? He had to leave, had to go outside and feel the blast of the cool
October night.

“You, know, I ought to get going," Peter said abruptly, moving towards his cloak
near the door. “Oh! So soon?” asked Lily. “I was going to put on a kettle…”

“No, no. Really, I – I ought to go now," Peter insisted, opening the front door and
feeling with relief the blast of cold air.

James put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, if you’re you won’t stay, then good night,
Peter. And thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”

“Yes," said Lily, “I know our family couldn’t possibly be any safer than it is now.
We are indebted to you forever.” She put her arms around his neck and pulled him
into a tight embrace. It had suddenly gotten very warm again, even though the
autumn wind was rushing through the doorway.

56
Chapter 5
The Betrayal

Peter unfolded the parchment he’d received by eagle owl earlier that day with the
intention of double-checking the address. The inky blackness of the cloudy night
was perfect cover for the rendezvous that was planned, but it made reading the thin
scrawl difficult. He jerked suddenly toward the house as a scream ripped through
the shawl of night, followed by a cold, high-pitched cackle. He was at the right
house.

Four days had passed since he had been made Secret Keeper for the Potters. And
though his Master’s letter had been filled with delight at the continued success of
their plan, Peter couldn’t help replaying that night in his mind. As he stood here
now, about to hand the Potters – his friends – to Lord Voldemort, he wondered…
Can I really go through with this? Maybe it isn’t too late to run! I could transform
into a rat and go into hiding…You-Know-Who would have more trouble locating
me as a rat. He looked up and down the dark street, trying to help his legs make
their decision on which direction to move. Do I really dare make a run for it? he
asked himself. Another scream jolted him into action. No, he thought, I don’t
dare…and he quickly moved toward the door of the house.

It opened without help from him, and Peter entered a room lit only by a fire in the
grate.

“Welcome, Wormtail," came the cold voice of his Master from the far corner of the
room. Peter had never quite gotten used to the sound of his Marauder’s nickname
coming from the Dark Lord. It always made him think of James, Sirius, and
Remus, and that always made him uncomfortable. “We’ve been waiting for you…
not having second thoughts, are you Wormtail?”

“N-No, my Lord! Just…just checking the address," Peter replied, holding up the
parchment in his hands as he squirmed nervously. Voldemort always seemed to be
able to read his mind.

“Good, Wormtail, good…because if you had tried to escape down that street, you
wouldn’t have gotten 50 yards – rat or not.”

Peter began to sputter, “I-I don’t kn-know…” but Voldemort cut him off.

“There are still several lessons you must learn, Wormtail. One is that you cannot
lie to me – as you have hopefully just learned. Another is that you cannot withhold
information from me – the McKinnons here are learning that lesson right now,"
and he indicated a witch and wizard that were tied tightly to chairs in the center of

57
the room. They were slumped against the ropes that bound them; their heads lolled
forward, faces hidden. “And the last is that you cannot hide from me, as the Potters
will soon be learning. I suggest you learn these lessons from those around you,
Wormtail, and not directly from me.”

Peter’s entire body was shaking violently and he grabbed the edge of a table for
support. “Y-Y-Yes, M-M-aster!”

“Now, before we begin our new business, Wormtail, I think we should continue
with the lesson the McKinnons are still mastering.” Voldemort turned to the couple
bound in the center of the room. “I believe that you were just about to tell me”, he
whispered silkily to Mr. McKinnon, “who has been passing information to the
Ministry. Who among the ranks of my Death Eaters has turned spy?”

The man was so weak from torture that he could barely lift his head from his chest.
His face was contorted by the effort when he finally looked up and faced
Voldemort. In a voice that was hoarse from screaming he croaked, “I don’t know.
And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, you fil- Aaahhhhhhhhh!”

Another cloaked figure had stepped forward, brandished a wand a muttered a

curse, sending Mr. McKinnon into spasms of pain. Peter, whose trembling knees
could no longer support his weight, sank into a chair and mopped his brow with the
sleeve of his cloak. Voldemort raised a finger and said, “One moment, Avery.” The
cloaked figure lifted his wand and the screaming was replaced by heavy, ragged
breathing. “That hurt. I know it did. Just think of your poor wife. Think how much
it will hurt her when we –”

“Stop it!” he rasped. “Stop – there is a spy among the Death Eaters, but there is
only one person who knows their identity. Albus Dumbledore. He refuses to tell
the Ministry who it is. No one else knows. No one.” McKinnon’s voice trailed
away and his head fell forward again as he slipped into unconsciousness.

“Damn that meddling, crooked-nosed fool!” roared Voldemort as he began to pace

angrily. “Leave it to him to stand in my way yet again. A traitor in my midst…I
must find out who it is!” His fury seemed to be reaching a crescendo, when
suddenly he stopped his pacing and withdrew his wand. Peter recoiled in fear, not
knowing what to expect next. “AVADA KEDAVRA!” he bellowed, pointing his
wand at the wizard bound to the chair. A blinding flash of green light flooded the
room, accompanied by a whooshing sound as if the air had been sucked from the
room. Before Peter could comprehend what had happened, the curse, the light and
the speeding sound of death had been repeated. In the eerie quiet that followed,
Peter uncovered his eyes and saw both McKinnons, their eyes wide open, their
mouths frozen as if in mid-scream, their bodies quite dead.

58
“Now, Wormtail," Voldemort said turning to Peter, his calm veneer back in place,
“I believe you have some information for me.”

“Y-Yes Master!” Peter replied, nearly stumbling as he tried to both rise from his
chair and bow deeply at the same time. “The Potters, my Lord, are hidden at
Godric’s Hollow.”

“Ah-h-h, thank you, Wormtail. That is most excellent. Now I want to discuss with
you the next stage of our plan…”

“N-Next stage?”

“Oh, yes, Wormtail. Your value to me is not over, and I think you should be glad
that it is not!”

Peter glanced at the McKinnons, turned back to Voldemort and said, “Of course,
My Lord, of course! I’m happy to serve…” and he bowed more deeply still.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, the Potters slept. They slept so soundly that
they did not see the blinding golden light that suddenly appeared around their
house and then quickly shrunk to a pinprick before vanishing in the center of their
living room. From the spot where it had vanished, a small piece of parchment
appeared, bearing the words ‘Godric’s Hollow’. It floated silently to the floor,
coming to rest gently under the sofa.

59
Chapter 6
Trick or Treat

“Peter, do you have somewhere else to go?” Lily was refilling his teacup and
looking at him quizzically.

“Wh-why would you say that?” said Peter, a bit unnerved by the feeling that
maybe Lily, like Lord Voldemort, could read minds.

“Well, that’s about the tenth time you’ve looked at the clock on our mantle – you
seem anxious about something. You know, Peter," she added with a grin, “you are
sitting in the safest house in Britain! You’ve ensured that for us.”

Peter gave a small laugh and hoped it sounded more casual than it felt. Lily
returned to the kitchen with the teapot as Harry toddled over to the couch. He sat
with a thump on the floor where a scattering of toys was waiting for a playmate,
and began offering them one at a time to Peter.

James laughed at the lapful of toys Peter was collecting. “We’ve been teaching
Harry to share – I think he’s gone a bit overboard with the idea!” The sudden
sound of breaking china followed by a “Damn!” caused both men to turn quickly
towards the kitchen. James jumped up and headed toward the ruckus. “Lily?
Everything ok?” Peter watched him go and heard Lily telling James that she’d
dropped the teapot.

An insistent tapping on his arm drew his attention back to little Harry. Apparently,
there were more toys he wished to share with Peter. But what Harry held forward
for Peter to take wasn’t a toy. It was a piece of parchment. Peter looked at it
curiously as he accepted it from Harry. There was something familiar about it.
Then his heart nearly stopped as he saw the words ‘Godric’s Hollow’ written on it.
He quickly pocketed the fragment as James reentered the room. “You know,
James, it is getting late after all, and I know you and Lily have had a long day.”

“Well thanks for coming over, Peter. Not exactly the Halloween Feasts from our
school days, I admit. But, I appreciate your company – we’re beginning to feel a
bit…isolated.”

“Yes”, said Peter. “I think I know what you mean.” He twitched a small, nervous
smile, called “Goodnight” to Lily and left the house. As he passed through the
wrought iron gate a voice from behind a tree added an extra chill to the air.
“Wormtail," called a cloaked figure as it emerged. “You have exceeded my low
expectations. Never could I have imagined you would serve so well as a spy
against those that were your friends. Perhaps I should be keeping a closer eye on

60
you myself…”

“My Lord!” Wormtail exclaimed, bowing deeply. “I did this for you, my Lord!”

“Don’t flatter me, Wormtail. You did this for your own stinking hide. But,
nevertheless, you have succeeded, and I will uphold my end of the bargain.”

“Then…Lily will be spared, my Lord? You promise not to harm her? Oh thank
you, my Lord, thank you.”

“I will spare her, Wormtail, and when I am finished I will modify her memory. She
will testify that Sirius Black was the Secret Keeper, that he has been my spy. That
is the most I can do for you, Wormtail. I cannot make her fall in love with you…”

“No…of course not, my Lord…”

“Now, I think it is time for the fun to begin. Trick or Treat!”

Peter ducked down among the bushes. He could see through the window into the
living room, where James sat with Harry on the couch. Voldemort strode up to the
front door, his cloak billowing behind him, wand outstretched. A flash of light
burst from the wand as the door exploded back on its hinges. Peter could catch
snippets of the voices from inside.

“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him!” Peter saw Lily run into the room, grab Harry,
and then disappear again. Voldemort’s high-pitched cackle drowned their voices as
he entered the house, and it became impossible to see through the window as
brilliant flashes of light issued from the volley of spells passing between James and
the Dark Lord. Peter breathed heavily, moving this way and that, trying to get a
sense of what was happening inside. Suddenly, a flood of green filled the living
room and the air became quiet.

Upstairs a light could suddenly be seen through a window and Peter could hear
voices again. “No! Not Harry! Please – I’ll do anything – ”

“Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!”

Do it, Lily! Move aside! You’ll be fine if you just move aside, please! Peter pleaded
silently from his hiding spot.

A shrill scream, another flash of green, and the pleading had stopped. No! thought
Peter. NO! He had promised. Surely…Then came the laughter again, and suddenly
another flash of green began. But this time was different. The flash didn’t stop

61
inside the small bedroom on the second floor. It spread, lighting every window in
the house. Glass began to shatter, flying in great shards past Peter as he ducked
behind a tree to avoid being hit. The house was shuddering, the ground felt as
though an earthquake was striking. The house was now shaking so violently that its
frame was moaning from the stress, and finally it could take no more. The house
was ripped into pieces, crumbling to the ground in clouds of billowing dust.

The night, a moment ago filled with explosive sound, was now eerily silent. Peter
gaped at the smoldering ruin before him, confused and worried. Where was
Voldemort? What had just happened? And then, he did hear a noise. It started
small and then grew louder. It was the sound of a baby crying. An impossible idea
entered Peter’s head. It couldn’t be true, and yet, it must be. Harry had lived!

62
Chapter 7
The Rat’s Trap

A small ‘pop’ announced the arrival of Peter back in his small flat. He ran his
fingers through what was left of his hair, mind racing madly. What had just
happened? One minute, things were going perfectly to plan; the next, the house
ruined…Voldemort gone…and Harry…Harry somehow left alive.

And what would happen to him now? Voldemort could no longer protect him. The
Death Eaters were sure to come looking for him…after all, it was he who’d sent
the Dark Lord to the Potters. They would think he’d set a trap. And Sirius…Sirius
would know he had betrayed Lily and James. Sirius would come looking for him
too, and Peter wasn’t sure whom he feared more.

Ok. Ok. Just stop and think, Peter told himself. He forced himself to sit down and
breathe normally for a moment. And then finally, his mind began to work again. I
have to disappear for a while…but how can I be sure no one will come looking for
me? The Death Eaters will find me anywhere I go. Unless…unless they think I’m
dead! Yes, that’s it! But…what am I to do about Sirius? A sinister plan began to
form in his mind. An evil, tricky, clever, brilliant plan!

He had to hurry – daylight had arrived and Sirius would be here very soon to
extract his revenge. He quickly destroyed the few scattered letters that were the
only traces of evidence of his involvement with Lord Voldemort. And then Peter
braced himself for the most difficult, but most important, part of his plan; the part
that would ensure that no one – Death Eater or Marauder – would ever come
looking for him. Peter leaned against the kitchen counter and held his breath. The
knife glinted, reflecting a ray of the morning sun as Peter brought it swiftly down
on his right hand. The pain was immeasurable as his finger was cleanly separated
from the rest of him. The air he’d been holding burst forth in a strangled yell as
Peter grasped the hand with its remaining four digits and fell to the floor.

As the minutes ticked by, the initial tidal waves of pain began to steady to an even
flow, and finally Peter shakily regained his feet, picked up his wand and stopped
the bleeding. He pocketed his severed finger as he prepared to leave his house for
the last time, placing a train schedule on the table. It was the perfect lure, and the
busy train station would provide the witnesses he needed.

He apparated in a deserted alley. He was ready for-

WHAM!

Peter fell to his knees as the world became blurry, his wand skittering across the

63
cobblestone pavement. His addled brain drew an image of the Whomping Willow,
and he vaguely wondered how it could possibly be in this dark alleyway.

SMACK came the second blow, but a deep, growling voice accompanied this one
and the image of the Whomping Willow vanished from Peter’s mind.

“You lying, cheating scum.” WHAM! The third punch threw Peter back into the
brick wall. His head hit hard, his hair and face now felt warm and sticky – he was
bleeding. “You filthy, traitorous b*stard. You betrayed them and I helped you do
it.”

“S-Sirius," Peter sputtered, “No! No – I didn’t –”

Peter was suddenly lifted from the ground by his cloak and, feet dangling, was
brought face to face with the menacing glare of Sirius Black.

“For the first time, Wormtail, I realize just how fitting it is that you are able to
transform into a rat. A very small change is required indeed.” Sirius punctuated
this by throwing Peter across the alley, where he landed in a heap among the
trashcans. “There. Now you’re with the filth where you belong.”

Peter’s black eyes darted left to right, looking for escape. Sirius was advancing on
him, wand drawn and face resolute. Pushing himself upright, Peter’s hand fell on a
smooth piece of wood – it was his wand! In a flash he’d transformed into a rat and
scurried behind the trash, heading toward the street. Garbage cans were blasted
into the air behind him, the explosions and scattering metal bins deafening the
sounds of Sirius’ curses.

Running into the street bustling with pedestrian traffic, Peter made his way to the
entrance of the station, quickly transforming back into a man behind a turnstile. He
stepped out just in time to see Sirius, wand outstretched, prepared to finish what he
had started. It was time for Peter to spring his trap. Slipping his severed finger
from the pocket of his cloak, he held it and his wand behind his back.

“Sirius! How could you, Sirius!” he yelled loudly. Muggles were stopping, looking
over their shoulders to see what the commotion was about. “Lily and James…how
could you!”

Sirius raised his wand and Peter knew from the look in his eyes that this time he
meant to kill. Dropping the severed finger behind him, Peter whispered a deadly
spell to his wand. An explosion ripped open the ground, destroying everything
within 20 yards of him as Peter transformed into the rat once more and ran into the

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sewers beneath the city. The sound of falling debris and screaming muggles
followed him into the pipes, and weirdly, the sound of someone…laughing…

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Chapter 8
A New Home

Peter traveled for days as a rat, foraging for food in garbage cans and gutters. He
dared not transform back into a man. He couldn’t risk being seen. One word, one
hint of his existence would send the Death Eaters onto his trail.

The muggle newspapers he saw in the trash reported the incident as a gas line
explosion. But on this morning, as Peter foraged for his morning meal, he came
across a fresh copy of the Daily Prophet, waiting to be brought inside and devoured
over toast and marmalade. Pretending to stand on his hind legs and wash his
whiskers, Peter hastily read snippets of information.

“Sirius Black sentenced to life in Azkaban…”

“13 Muggles died when Black blasted long-time friend Pettigrew…”

“Pettigrew’s mother given Order of Merlin for his attempt to apprehend Black…”

“Voldemort’s whereabouts still unknown…”

It had worked, he thought to himself as he glanced at a photograph. They think I’m

dead. And everyone thinks Sirius was the spy. It all worked. He was reading the
caption of the photo now. “Arthur Weasley, ministry official – ”

A hand suddenly clamped around his midsection, whisking him upwards.

“Oy, Bill! Take a look at this, will you?” Turning to face his captor, Peter looked
into the freckled face of a young, stocky boy.

“Charlie – what the devil have you caught this time? You know, I reckon one day
you’re going to catch a creature that turns out to be more dangerous than you can
handle!”

“No such thing," grinned Charlie. “But have a look at him! He’s really been
through the mill, this one has. His foot’s all bloody – blimey! He’s missing a toe!
And what about that face…he’s going to need some mending, he is.”

“You’re going to keep that rag-tag thing? You better show him to Mum first –
she’s likely to have kittens over you bringing home another mouth to feed.”

“Ah – I’ll tell her I caught him for Percy. She’ll lap it up. C’mon, Scabbers. Let’s
go meet the family, eh?”

66
Bill picked up the paper on the ground. “Hey – how about this! Dad’s picture is in
the Daily Prophet!”

The boy turned the paper and pointed to the photo of the ministry official Peter had
just been looking at. He could hardly believe his luck. He’d walked right into a
wizarding family tied to the ministry. If he played his cards right, he’d be able to
catch any word of Voldemort from here. He relaxed in the boy’s hand, looked up at
him, and twitched his whiskers in what he hoped was a friendly sort of way.

“Y’know Bill, I think he likes me!”

“Oh, that’s an achievement, Charlie. Being friends with a rat! As if you could trust
a single one of ‘em.”

“I dunno Bill. There’s something different about this one. I think Scabbers here is
alright.”

Peter nestled comfortably into Charlie’s hands. Once again he’d found someone to
protect him, and finally feeling safe, Peter closed his black, watery eyes and began
to drift off to sleep.

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68
69
Dark
Mark
Rising

70
71
72
Dark Mark Rising

Chapter One
The Truth

The color drained out of his face.  "What?" he whispered.  His knees felt weak and
his head swam.  His hand groped the air, seeking something solid in a world that
had just fallen away from his feet.  It found the kitchen table beside him and he
leaned heavily on it, as if he would just fall into a black hole if he let go.

It made no sense.  It couldn't be true, and yet…it explained everything.  His eyes
were still fixed on the woman he loved - at least the woman he thought he had
loved.  But how could he now?  

In one sense, everything was the same - she had the same silky black hair that just
brushed her shoulders when she walked, the same green eyes that shone and
sparkled when she smiled.  But she wasn't smiling now, and nothing would ever be
the same again.  Their love, their marriage - she was carrying his child, for Christ's
sake! - all a lie.

He turned his eyes away from her.  "Get out", he said.

"Tom, please - listen to me, let me explain!"

"Explain?  What could you explain?  The owls? Your strange friends?  Your lies?"

"I - I thought our love was strong enough.  I thought you could handle the truth - "

"The TRUTH?!  You think that your little 'confession' makes up for the fact that
not one thing about our lives has been based on who - on WHAT - you really are?
That you're about to bear a child - a monster - based on a pack of lies?  What could
you possibly say that could make anything right again?"

"Just that I love you, Tom.  And I'm a witch."

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Chapter Two  
The First and the Last

"Doctor, come quick - I think it's time."  The man in the white coat hurried down
the linoleum hall and entered the room the nurse had called from.  Under stiff,
white sheets a woman lay bathed in perspiration, on the edge of delirium from pain
and medication.  "Tom, Tom?" she looked up hopefully, realizing someone had
entered the room.  Her gaze fell on the face of Doctor Amadi, and she let her eyes
roll back under their lids.

"Doctor", the nurse said, a touch of desperation in her voice, "her temperature is
still rising.  I think we should have sent her to the hospital in Greater Hangleton.  I
don't think we can handle her here."

"We'll have to make do - there's no time to move her now", he replied to the nurse.
He turned to his patient as she moaned from another contraction. "Mrs. Riddle, can
you hear me?" he asked gently.  Her eyelids fluttered in response.  "Mrs. Riddle,
you're about to have your baby, but you're very, very ill.  I need to ask you a few
things before…" his voice trailed off slightly, "…before it's too late."

She turned and looked at him, her fever making her green eyes blaze even brighter.
She blinked to indicate she understood.

"Do you have any relatives that can care for your baby?"

Mrs. Riddle shook her head.  Summoning what little strength she had remaining,
she whispered, "My husband…doesn't want…"

"Do you have a name picked out?"

She moaned again as her body worked hard to free the child within, took a deep
breath and whispered, "Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"And if it's a girl?"

"It…won't…be", she said, needing a full breath for each word.  Her body nearly
doubled from the strength of the next contraction and she cried aloud.

"The baby's coming", said the nurse, and she and the doctor positioned themselves
for the arrival of Tom Riddle.  He entered the world with jet-black hair and eyes
that were already bright green - unusual for a baby.  And as he drew his first breath
to let out a wail that alerted the unsuspecting world to his arrival, his mother drew
her last.

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75
Chapter 3
The Orphan

Tom leaned against the chest-high wall made of rough-hewn stone that surrounded
the Little Hangleton Home for Children.  He found it amusing that they called this
place a home.  He had lived here for his entire eight years, and for not one day of
that had this place felt like a home.  A home should have parents and love and
caring.  But this place just had nurses and caregivers that passed through forming a
steady stream of strangers that were known as "Ma'am" or "Nurse".  It wasn't
worth the effort to learn their names.  As soon as you did they would be gone,
replaced by another and then another.  

He stood looking up at a grand house that stood alone on a hill on the edge of Little
Hangleton.  He had asked once who lived in the house and was told that it was
known as the Riddle House.  Tom's heart had leapt at this - Riddle!  That was his
name!  Maybe he had rich relatives…maybe they would swoop down from the hill
with stories of how they had searched for him and at long last would take him
home.  But the faceless, nameless nurse on duty at the Little Hangleton Home for
Children had told him his mother's dying words were that he had no living
relatives.  And so, every day Tom Riddle leaned against the wall, stared up at the
Riddle House, and fantasized that he had a family that would take him away.

THWAP!  Tom's back stung as something smacked into him, jolting his body
forward into the wall and splattering the back of his head.  He spun around and two
older boys were doubled with laughter, hands black and dripping with mud.  "Hey,
freak!" the taller boy yelled, "wishin' you could live in a real house?"  The other
boy chimed in, "That probably IS your parent's house and they just didn't want a
freak like you for a kid!"  Putting a cigarette in his mouth and punching his friend
in the ribs for a light, he stalked off sniggering with the taller boy in tow.

They had touched a nerve.  Tom often withstood the jeers and comments from the
other kids.  He was different - there was no denying that.  He didn't know why, but
he didn't fit in, and they singled him out as a target of bullying and pranks.  But
this time, they had reached into the deepest fear in Tom's heart and turned it into a
weapon.  

Tom stared after them, cold fury flowing through his veins.  Waves of hatred
seemed to be flowing over him and outward, like ripples in a pond when you drop
a stone.  He was trembling…rooted to the spot by muscles that were as tense as a
cobra about to strike.  

It happened as the boy struck his match.  Instead of the small flicker of the match
tip, a fireball erupted into a mushroom that engulfed both boys.  The small boy that

76
had been holding the match was incinerated immediately, and when the police
came later there was nothing but ash to mark where he had been.  But the other
boy…the other boy screamed in agony as fire followed his hair down into the roots
of his scalp like thousands of fuses. His face was melting from the heat of the fire,
and as he inhaled to scream again, the fire burned his throat, his lungs.  He fell to
the ground, his clothes burning off of his body, his skin turning black, and
thankfully, he finally died.

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Chapter 4
The House

The air was filled with the acrid smell of burnt human flesh.  Everyone at the home
was frozen in terror, and the moment seemed to stretch for an eternity.  Then the
screaming started…the running…the panic.  Some of the nameless nurses rushed
towards the boys, or rather what was left of them, in a ridiculous attempt to render
aid.  Most of the other caregivers and the children ran away, looking desperately
for some sort of cover in case the explosions weren't over.  As they ran past Tom
they threw him looks alternatively filled with suspicion and fear.

During the melee, Tom made his decision.  He turned his back to the hysteria,
placed both hands on the stone wall and hoisted himself over.  Landing softly on
the other side, he crouched down and began to move along the length of the wall,
working his way to a line of bushes and trees that edged the base of the hill.  His
thighs and back began to ache from the effort of his covert movements and he was
grateful when he finally reached the thick cover where he collapsed on the soft,
cool ground.  

He lay on his back, arms over his face, running over and over in his mind what had
happened.  What HAD happened?  He wasn't sure.  He had not been near those
boys, and yet…he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow he had made that
happen.  He had been angry, furious actually.  As they walked away, he had
watched them with a hatred like he had never felt and there had been a pounding in
his ears that built to a crescendo.  And then…  But how could he have caused that?
It had to be a coincidence.  People couldn't blow up other people just because they
were angry!  

In the center of these swirling thoughts was the Riddle House.  Riddle…It was just
another "coincidence" that just couldn't be.  There had to be a connection to his
past, his secrets.

Having caught his breath and steeled his resolve, Tom pushed himself upright and
worked his way along the tree line.  He didn't want to be seen by anyone from the
home that might have realized he had run away, or by the inhabitants of the Riddle
House that might peer out of its large mullioned windows.

His progress was slow, hampered by the circuitous route and the overgrowth of the
foliage, but steadily the house grew larger and larger as he caught glimpses of if
between the thick shrubs.

Finally reaching the back of the large house, he crouched down, shielded by the
dense growth.  He looked up at the two-story house with its tiled roof and

78
expansive windows and his heart began hammering.  There was movement in the
large center window - someone was home.  During the journey, Tom had
wondered if anyone would even be in the house and in the dark recesses of his
mind he had hoped not.  Peering through unguarded windows and wondering about
the people that lived inside would have been easier, safer than actually coming face
to face with them.  Did he really want this truth?

He thought about the Children's Home. He thought about the faceless adults that
only pretended to care.  He thought about the other children that didn't even bother
to pretend that they didn't hate him.  He had nothing now - and that meant he had
nothing to lose.  

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Chapter 5
The Father

Tom's knees shook violently in protest as his feet mounted the steps up to the front
of the house.  His heart was trying to leap out of his chest; his mouth was dry from
rapid, shallow breathing; his face was flushed and hot.  He licked his lips, raised a
fist and paused one last time before fully committing himself.  Finally, he knocked.

The door was opened by a man with salt and pepper hair and a middle that was,
like the rest of the universe, expanding.  His brown eyes searched Tom
suspiciously, looking left to right for what this boy might be trying to sell.

Tom tried to steady himself with a deep breath and finally said, "Hello sir.  My
name is Tom Marvolo Riddle.  Do you know me?"

Whatever the man had suspected Tom might be up to, it was obviously not this.
His stunned face blanched and he gripped the doorknob even more tightly for
support.  His gaze shifted to Tom's black hair and brilliant green eyes.  A look that
resembled recognition dawned on his pasty white face.  Suddenly the man turned
on his heel and slammed the door without a word.

Tom stared at the cracked, peeling paint on the door that was now mere inches
from his face.  What had happened?  He was sure this man seemed to know
something - but what?

Tom's body stood frozen as his joints engaged in a furious battle over whether to
leave or knock again.  He couldn't leave.  He just couldn't.  Not after finally
screwing up the courage to come.  He raised his hand to rap on the heavy wooden
door again when it flew back open, sucking air and leaves into the house in a whirl.

The man had reappeared and he no longer looked shocked.  He looked angry.  In
one hand he gripped the handle of a large trunk that he had obviously dragged to
the door.  

"Know you?  Oh - I know you!  I know what you are…what you mother was!"  

Tom leapt back as the man heaved the heavy trunk onto the porch where it crashed
violently on the stone and clattered end over end down the steps.

"There!  That's all you'll get from me and I'm glad to be rid of it.  I should have
burned it when she died.  Lord knows I prayed often enough that you'd die too.
Prayed that God would wipe you and all your kind off the face of the Earth.

80
Prayed I'd never have to see the monster she tricked me into fathering."  His voice,
until now high with tension and fury, dropped to a threatening growl.  "Never
come back here.  You are no son of mine."  And the door slammed for the second
time.

Chapter 6
The Master

"Son?" thought Tom.  "Son?"

He was still standing on the porch, brain drowning as it tried to face the deepest
dread that had lurked in Tom's heart for eight years.  This man was his father, but
this man wanted him dead.  This fine home should be his, but instead he was
forced to live in a loveless, uncaring orphanage.  An orphanage, Tom realized, that
he had just run away from.  Now he had no place at all.

He turned his attention for the first time to the trunk.  He desperately wanted to
know what was in it, but he couldn't open it here.  He had to get away from the
Riddle House before that man - his father - came back.  He might just decide to
help his death wish for Tom along.

The trunk weighed more than Tom, but he threw his weight forward and finally
succeeded in dragging it to the safety of the trees.  Sweaty from the effort, he
examined a very odd lock on the front of the trunk.  Made of silver metal, it was
the shape of a snake that coiled through the trunk's fastenings to hold them firmly
in place.  Tom didn't know how to open it.  It didn't seem to take a key, and even if
it did he didn't have one.  He picked up a stick and tried to pry the snake's coils
apart, but the stick snapped.  He picked up a rock and smacked the snake, which
banged and flipped wildly, but did not open.  He tried a few more times and finally
shouted, "Open up!" in frustration.  But that sound never reached his ears.  Instead
he heard a hissing, spitting sound and to his astonishment, the snake-lock seemed
to come to life and uncoiled to release the lid.  Confused and frightened, Tom
reached forward and opened the trunk.

Strange and mysterious objects were tossed about in a jumble.  Books, crystals, a
cloak, a small bronze cauldron, bottles with both dried and liquid contents.  He
picked up a book - The Standard Book of Spells, by Miranda Goshawk.  Spells?
He put it back and picked up a highly polished tapered length of wood.  It felt
warm in his hands as if it was alive, and he felt an energy pass from it all the way
up his arm.  He picked up a photograph and screamed.  It had moved!  The image
smiled and waved at him from the ground where he'd dropped it as if it had been a
hot coal.

81
"That's your mother."  Tom's entire body jerked around to find the source of the
deep silky voice that had floated out of nowhere.  A man had appeared noiselessly
behind him, and Tom had never seen anything like this man in his life.  He wore a
deep green cloak, and had long black hair and a black moustache that framed his
mouth all the way down to his jaw bone.  His eyes were black, sharp and seemed to
penetrate to the back of Tom's skull.

Finding what was left of his frayed nerves, Tom said, "My…my mother?"  He
glanced back at the black-haired woman in the photo, still smiling and waving, her
green eyes flashing.  "But how…how do you know?  And who are you?"

The stranger replied, "I knew your mother.  And you can call me…Master."

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Chapter 7
The Student

The man approached slowly, bent down and picked up the picture.  The corner of
his mouth moved slightly as he looked at the photograph, as if it was accompanied
by a good memory.  "She was a beautiful woman, your mother.  And a talented
witch."

"A what?" exclaimed Tom.

"A witch", the man repeated.  "And you're a wizard.  The last of a line of the most
powerful witches and wizards in our world."

"That's…that's…well…impossible.  There aren't witches or wizards.  That's fairy

tale stuff."  Tom's white face showed how frightened he was, but he couldn't take
his eyes off of this man.

The man chuckled a deep, grumbling sort of laugh.  "Oh, I assure you, it most
certainly is not 'fairy tale stuff'.  I am a wizard as well - Grindelwald is my name.
Your middle name is Marvolo, is it not?  Marvolo Slytherin, direct descendent of
the great Salazar Slytherin, was your grandfather.  And I am here, Tom, to help
you to fulfill your destiny as a Slytherin."

By now, Tom had sunk into the ground next to his mother's belongings.  This was
crazy talk.  Maybe his mother had been crazy; maybe that's why his father hated
him.  Thought he would turn out mad as well.  And maybe that's what was
happening now - he was going mad.

The man was still speaking.  "It will be several years before you will leave for
school, my boy, and we can't wait that long for you to start learning.  So I have
come to begin tutoring you.  It's a promise I made to your mother long ago, when
that fool muggle she married threw her out."

"Muggle?" Tom asked.  "Do you mean that man back there?  The one that said he
was my father?"

"Muggle is the word we use for people that aren't magical.  And Tom Riddle, your
father, is a muggle and an idiot.  You may be cursed with his foul name, but your
blood is that of Slytherin.  And I'm here to make sure you rise as the heir you were
born to be.  Now, are you ready to begin?"

Tom was still reeling from everything that had happened to him.  But when he

83
looked in those eyes he saw strength, he saw respect, and he saw someone that saw
him - and wanted to help him.  So, he stood up and replied, "Yes, Master."

Chapter 8
The First Curse

Many weeks had passed since the day that Tom had tried to leave the orphanage
and met his destiny.  Grindelwald was unable to stay in one place for any length of
time, and so Tom had had to return to the orphanage.  No questions had ever been
asked about his disappearance, and in the weeks and months that had followed the
"accident", the nurses and other children gave him a wide berth whenever they saw
him.  Thankfully, that was rare these days, as Tom had taken to sleeping during the
day so he could sneak out at night to meet his teacher.  Even the small boy that
shared this cold, stone room rarely saw or spoke to Tom.  He was fast asleep now;
blonde curls falling softly across the cherub face and swaying slightly from the
boy's deep, rhythmic breathing.

Tom lay awake on his cot, the thoughts in his mind racing madly in his skull.  His
lesson that night had been thrilling, and he couldn't bear the realization that an
entire day would have to pass before he could continue.  He looked out of the small
window in his cell of a room, watching the sun rise over the hill and light the trees
where he would meet his master when the darkness returned.  

Lessons with Grindelwald occurred sporadically.  Frantic spurts of tutelage when

he was able to hide nearby separated by intervals of devastating emptiness when he
was away.  During these times Tom kept his sanity by practicing his spells and
reading books Grindelwald brought to him.  Tonight's lesson had been the
culmination of much hard work and studying - he had learned his first unforgivable
curse.  

Tom sat up in bed, giving up all pretences that sleep might come to visit.  He had
to practice this new curse, had to perfect it.  He looked around for a suitable
subject.  A cock crowed to announce the arrival of the new day, and Tom sprang to
the window and looked at the bird perched on the stone wall, head tilted up to the
sky.  He raised his wand, the wand that had been his mother's, and whispered,
"Imperio!"  The rooster stopped in mid-crow and a glazed, unfocused look spread
through its black eyes.  "Jump down", whispered Tom, and the rooster obediently
obliged.  "Come this way", and the rooster, shaking its plumage, strutted in his
direction, fluttered his wings and landed softly on the stone sill.  This was boring.
This was all normal rooster behavior!  How could he be sure the rooster was doing
his bidding?  

A rustling sound came from the corner as his young roommate turned in his sleep,

84
a tiny thumb falling away from the mouth that had held it captive during the night.
Tom smiled lightly as he looked at the boy, and did not turn his gaze back to the
rooster as he whispered to it, "Kill him."

The bird shot across the room as if it were an eagle, beak open, claws outstretched.
It landed in a fury of talons and feathers on that angelic face.  The face that was
now screaming in shock and agony, now streaked in blood, now missing eyes, now
falling silent.  

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Ch 9
The Letter and The Warning

While no one could ever prove that Tom was involved in the murderous rampage
of the rooster, their eyes convicted him.  Hushed whispers quieted whenever he
approached, and people nervously shifted positions to be as far from Tom as
possible.  As time passed, life at the orphanage grew ever more isolating.  He slept
alone, ate alone, and as he was rarely awake during the day, seemed to live alone.
That suited Tom Riddle just fine.

Tom yearned for night, for darkness, when he could perfect his craft and master his
past.  In the trunk that had been his mother's he had found a valuable clue to his
heritage - a magical diary that could transport him as an observer to past events.
He saw his namesake, Marvolo Slytherin, as he led raids against muggle towns and
built a legion of powerful supporters.  He saw his mother at school, learning to use
the power that filled her veins.  He saw the fool that fathered him breaking her
heart and trying to destroy his future.  He hated him.  He hated all of them - all of
the muggles.

The day his letter arrived, addressed in emerald green ink and bearing a coat of
arms, he was not at all surprised.  He knew this would be the year when he would
arrive at Hogwarts; he knew already that it was his destiny to be in Slytherin
house.  He was, after all, the heir of the great Salazar himself, and he was prepared
to ascend to that throne.

That night, cloaked in the darkness of a moonless night, his master had serious
words for him to heed.

"They must not know.  Those muggle-loving fools must not know that your blood
is that of Slytherin.  You will enter school and never let them see the great skill, the
great power that you possess.  Blend in, study hard, and watch…watch for those
that will be friend and those that will be foe."  

Tom hung on every word Grindelwald uttered.  He worshipped this man - his
teacher, his mentor, his master.  The only person in all the world that gave a damn
about him.

Grindelwald continued.  "There is a secret within the school.  One that even I, the
great Grindelwald, cannot uncover.  Only you can discover this secret, and unleash
the awesome power within.  That power will be yours to wield."

Tom, sitting cross-legged on the ground, looked up into the face half-visible in the
flickering light of a lone candle and asked, "This secret, this evil force…will I be

86
able to control it?"

"There is no good and evil, Tom.  Always remember that.  There is only power and
those to weak to use it.  This is a great power, and it will do your bidding.  Find the
chamber and use the power within to finish your ancestors' work.  This will help."
He handed Tom a piece of fabric, light and fluid.  "An invisibility cloak.  You will
need to use this to help you move about the castle without arousing suspicion."

Grindelwald now bent down and sat gently next to Tom.  "We will not be able to
meet as often.  Dippet may be a fool, but there are others at Hogwarts that are not."
His black eyes caught the panic that was crossing Tom's face and he laid his hand
with its long, white fingers on Tom's shoulder.  Gently chuckling he said, "Not to
worry, my boy.  We will still manage to continue your training in the Dark Arts.
They are vital to your destiny and you certainly will not master them at that school
of weaklings afraid of their own power.  But we will need to be cautious and avoid
the suspicious eyes of Albus Dumbledore.  He is neither a fool nor a weakling.  I
will send you an owl when it is safe to meet.  Remember - do not let them see you
for who you are."

Drum roll, please...

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Ch 10
The School

The sorting hat had, as expected, yelled out "Slytherin!" when perched on Tom's
head, but not before quivering as if recognizing the body underneath its dirty,
tattered brim.  Within the stark green common room, Tom found himself
surrounded by others filled with ambition and thirsty for power.  Their inferior
minds and inferior talent made Tom's emergence as a leader and model student an
easy path.  He sat silently in the corner chair night after night, watching his
classmates, looking for those that could be cultivated to suit his future purpose.

At night he would don the invisibility cloak searching for the hidden chamber in
corners, behind bookshelves and portraits, everywhere he could imagine it might
be concealed.  These searches turned up several secret passages that led out of the
castle, which proved quite useful for his monthly meetings with Grindelwald.  True
to his word, the Master continued to lead Tom's journey into the Dark Arts.

The first year at Hogwarts passed with little incident, and as summer returned Tom
found himself back at the Little Hangleton Home for Children without having
located the Chamber.  The only good thing about returning to the orphanage was
the increased frequency of his lessons with Grindelwald.  

The next several years at school passed much like the first.  Tom grew more
powerful and created a small circle of loyal followers.  To rid himself of the
disgusting muggle name that was the only inheritance from his fool of a father, he
used the letters to create his new identity…his true identity.  Within the small
alliance of faithful followers he was known as Lord Voldemort.  But he was able to
do little to further his cause.  He had not found the Chamber, and the
transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, had an annoying habit of turning up at the
most inconvenient times.  He seemed to constantly be watching Tom, studying
him, and so, following Grindelwald's original warnings, Tom was careful not to
expose himself.

Tom vanished beneath his invisibility cloak again, as he had done nearly every
night at Hogwarts for the past 4-plus years.  The night was so routine, so normal,
that Tom had no premonition that something extraordinary was about to take place.
Walking stealthily down a corridor, Tom flattened suddenly against the cold, stone
wall.  Voices were approaching, shadows dancing in the torchlight of the corridor
around the corner.  The voices belonged to Dumbledore and the headmaster,
Dippet.  

"I'm not sure I agree with your appointment, headmaster, of Tom Riddle as
Prefect", came Dumbledore's meddlesome voice.  The weak, tremulous reply of

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Dippet followed, growing louder as they drew near the turn that would bring them
into Tom's corridor.  "Tom is a model student, Albus.  What reservations can you
possibly have about him?"  Tom had to move.  Even though he was invisible, he
couldn't risk Dumbledore coming that close to him.  Dumbledore was likely to
sense him, hear him breathing or the pounding of his heart.  He inched down the
wall, gently pushed open a door and slid inside, the door resting quietly in its frame
just as Dumbledore and Dippet passed him.  The closed door blocked the sound of
Dumbledore's reply.

Tom closed his eyes and forced himself to stay calm with slow, controlled breaths.
That had been close - too close.  Damn Dumbledore.  One day, Lord Voldemort
would have to hide from no wizard.  With one more steadying breath, Tom opened
his eyes and looked around.  The room was dark, but he immediately knew he was
in a room he'd never entered before.  It was a room he'd never even thought of
entering before.  He was in the girl's bathroom.

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Chapter 11
The Chamber

Tom would have laughed if he weren't concerned about being heard.  What would
Lord Voldemort's followers say if they saw him in a girl's bathroom?  He slipped
the invisibility cloak off, watching his image materialize in the mirror over the
sink.  His black hair was plastered to his sweaty forehead, and he reached forward
to turn the tap and rinse his face.  Nothing happened.  He twisted the handle back
and forth with a puzzled frown.      

Bending down to inspect the faucet, he felt his breath catch in his throat.  His heart
felt as if it had stopped and time seemed to be frozen.  His eyes were fixed on a
figure carved into the base of the tap - a tiny serpent.  Slytherin's sign.  His sign.

Slowly he stood up and looked around.  Could 4 years of searching have ended
here?  In a girl's toilet?  He looked back at the faucet and turned it again.  Nothing
happened.  He pulled it.  He pushed it.  Still nothing.  Then he had an odd thought.
His mother's diary had shown him the great Marvolo Slytherin, his grandfather,
speaking to a snake.  Could he have inherited this gift as well?  He had never tried
to talk to a snake.  He didn't know how to do it.  Even if he could - would it work
here?

Tom narrowed his green eyes and focused on the carving.  His mouth said "Open"
but the sound that issued from his throat was a low, hissing noise.  A bright light
issued from the tap as it spun wildly and then the sink began to move, the
bathroom filling with the heavy scraping of stone sliding against stone.  Tom
looked nervously around.  If Dumbledore was anywhere near he was certain to
have heard the racket.  Tom paused, staring at the gaping hole in the wall and
listening for the sound of approaching footsteps.  They didn't come.

He drew a deep breath, stepped forward and then entered the large pipe that was
now visible.  Immediately he began to slide down a slippery metal chute, gathering
speed as he plunged deeper into the darkness below.  His shoulder jammed
painfully hard into an elbow bend, and he tried to tuck himself in tighter.  Finally,
the pipe straightened out and he shot out as if from a cannon.  He slammed into a
stone wall and then fell back onto a damp, packed earth floor.  

Tom got up knowing he should be in excruciating pain, but the pure excitement of
where he was and what he was about to find flooded his nerves and made them
impervious to the bumps and bruises that covered him.  He withdrew his wand and
muttered, "Lumos".  Even the sound of that single, half-whispered word echoed
with the excitement Tom was feeling inside.  He knew he was close; he could feel
it - an indefinable power was drawing him deeper into the passageway.

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The small shaft of light from his wand illuminated a small portion of a stone tunnel
stretching far beyond the reach of the beam.  Tom took a step on the uneven dirt
floor, his foot connecting with the skeleton of some small rodent, sending the
bones skittering down the path.  He didn't care.  He began to walk faster,
eventually breaking into a trot and then a full run, not noticing other skeletal
remains of animals large and small.

As his robes flapped wildly behind him, Tom suddenly began to hear the sound of
his running footsteps echoing back to him - he was drawing toward the end of the
tunnel!  He rounded a bend and came to such a fast stop he almost fell forward on
his face.  His mouth gaped as he stared at a massive stone wall with two
intertwining serpents carved into it.  Their sparkling emerald eyes had an inner
light that made them seem alive.  

Tom stood for several minutes, catching his breath and wiping the sweat from his
brow.  Willing his trembling hands to be still, he held his wand out and stood up
straight - the proud heir of Slytherin.  He met the glowing eyes of the serpent and
hissed, "Open".

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Chapter 12
The Beast

The serpents pulled apart as the doorway slid open, retreating into the walls on
either side.  Tom was bathed in the greenish glow that emanated from the chamber
within.  He stepped inside and felt its power rush over him, through him.  It was
exhilarating.  

Carved serpents twisted and coiled their way up massive stone columns that edged
the chamber. More animal bones littered the roughly hewn slabs of the chamber
floor, and they crunched dryly as Tom worked his way across the room.  

With reverence, Tom turned his dark green eyes up at an immense stone sculpture
and for the first time, saw the face of the great Salazar Slytherin.  He fell to his
knees, and to an outsider it would have seemed as though he were praying to the
statue.  But Tom's legs felt like rubber, his insides seemed to have vanished.  With
the little strength he could muster, his voice spoke in a hoarse whisper, "Slytherin,
greatest of the Hogwart's four, your heir is here to do your bidding."  

The face of the great statue began to move, the mouth widening into a gaping hole.
For a moment, Tom thought it would speak.  But instead an enormous serpent
began pouring from the hole, oozing down the statue's body and spilling onto the
ground.  It was a basilisk and Tom immediately turned away, shielding his eyes.
To look at a basilisk was death.

"Face me, heir of Slytherin", hissed the great snake.  "My gaze cannot harm those
with the blood of Salazar - he who raised me from an egg, cared for me, fed me,
and provided this safe dwelling for me.  In return for his loyalty to me I have
sworn allegiance to all the issue from him, and place myself in your obedient
service."

Tom removed his hands hesitantly and slowly, carefully turned his head.  His eyes
were mere slits as he chanced a look at the basilisk, and as he realized it spoke the
truth, he dropped his hands to his side and faced the snake.  It raised its great, flat
head until its strange, piercing yellow eyes were even with Tom's own.  "What is
your command, my Master?" hissed the serpent.  

"That's easy", replied Tom, a slight smirk crossing his face.  "Kill the mudbloods."

*pant pant* ok - here's the next Ch.  I hope there are no mistakes - I've barely had
time to proof read it!!  ENJOY!

Chapter 13

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The Diary

“It has happened”, Tom wrote, watching the ink disappear into the page as if it had
been swallowed.  “The first mudblood was attacked during the night.  I stood in the
corner of the boys' bathroom, concealed by the invisibility cloak, and the scene that
unfolded before me was magnificent.”  He paused a moment, watching the ink
swirl and vanish.

“A boy, a filthy mudblood boy, was washing his hands when he heard the basilisk
slither up behind him.  He looked up into the mirror, and his eyes locked with the
serpent’s. His eyes went wide with shock and horror; his mouth gaped to scream,
but no sound came.  His body went rigid, frozen on the spot, and he fell back onto
the floor with a crash.  It was brilliant.  There’s talk of reviving him, though –
unfortunately the mirror diluted the beast’s stare.  But there will be a next time.  I
left that promise behind for all to see.”  Again the page consumed the ink, and Tom
closed his diary, placing it back in its hiding place beneath his mattress.

He pulled his green velvet bed curtains open and got up, looking out across the
Hogwarts grounds as the sun began to climb over the horizon.  He had been too
energized to sleep and was glad the day had finally arrived.

He dressed quickly and left the Slytherin dormitory, heading for the Great Hall and
an early breakfast.  The night had left him with quite an appetite.

The sense of panic in the halls was palpable and filled Tom with such excitement
that it was an effort to play the role of the concerned prefect.  “Ah, Tom!” came the
feeble voice of Headmaster Dippet.  “I’ve asked that all the prefects and the Head
Boy and Head Girl breakfast at my table.  We must discuss the increased security
measures that will have to be put in place.  My, my, my… Never in all my years…
A student attacked, right here at Hogwarts.”

“Sir”, said Tom with as worried a look as he could muster, “will he be all right? Do
you know what happened?”

“Madame Wolfrath feels sure she can bring him back with a mandrake draught, but
we are no closer to finding out what happened to him, I’m afraid.”

The other prefects began to arrive amid so much chattering Tom could only hear
snippets of conversations.  “I heard there was a note...” “…a Ravenclaw, I
think…”  Dippet tapped a knife on his plate to quiet the crowd and relayed what
information he could.  “Last night, a Ravenclaw boy was attacked in the bathroom.
We do not know what happened to him, but we do believe he will be all right.  A

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note was left behind: ‘The Chamber has been opened.  Enemies of the Heir,
beware!’  At this time, that is all we know.”

This caused another outbreak of chattering, but this time all the voices were saying
the same thing.  “The Chamber?”  “The Heir?” “But I thought the Chamber of
Secrets was a myth!”

Dippet tapped again in an attempt to regain control.  “The Chamber of Secrets IS a

myth.  The attacker left this message in an attempt to throw suspicion away from
himself and create exactly the hysteria you are displaying.  I must ask you all to
first, be a role model for the other students.  Do not fall prey to the rumors and
panic.  Second, enforce the curfew that will begin tonight.  Immediately after
dinner all students should be in their common rooms.  Teachers, prefects, and the
head boy and girl will take shifts patrolling the corridors.  And third, keep your
eyes and ears open for the attacker.”

Tom nodded, picked up his pumpkin juice and took a deep drink to mask the grin
that was threatening to cross his face.

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Chapter 14
The Death

Tom paced back and forth on the stone floor, his hands behind his back and his
brow knitted.  He scowled and kicked a rat skull across the floor, sending it
smashing into the wall.  “No deaths!  Not one filthy, lousy mudblood is dead.
After 4 years of searching for this Chamber and all my hard work, no one has
died!”

“Ssseveral timesss I have tried, massster”, hissed the basilisk as it swayed from
right to left, avoiding Tom’s path and his projectiles.

“I know, my friend, I know.”  Tom leaned against a pillar and placed his face in his
hands.  Then, looking up suddenly he added, “That doesn’t make it any less
frustrating.  I am the heir of Salazar Slytherin!  His work was KILLING
mudbloods, not turning them to stone so they could be revived.  We must do better,
my friend.”

“Yessss.  Kiillll….Rrrriiiiipp…”  The serpent’s eyes glittered and its tongue

flicked rapidly as it imagined the murderous rampage it longed to fulfill.  Tom
looked at the beast and smiled.  He had stopped pacing now.  He stood up straight
and looked into the stone face of Salazar Slytherin.  He said nothing, but his face
showed clearly the new resolve that strengthened him.  He turned back to the
basilisk and said, “Come with me now!” as he moved toward the tunnel that led
out of the Chamber.  “The curfew will be in effect in just a few short hours.  We
must work quickly.”  They moved quickly down the tunnel and entered the pipe,
Tom in the lead, and worked their way upwards.

Tom dropped lightly onto the floor of the bathroom and brushed off his robes.  He
watched the beast glide from the opening behind the sink and pour itself onto the
floor of the bathroom, coiling up like a well-tended rope on a ship.  Tom bent
forward and turned the tap to close the entranceway.  “Today will be our day, my
friend.  I can feel it!”  That same resolute look was fixed upon Tom’s face.

“Who’s there?”  

Tom whirled around with a look of panic.

“Who’s there?” came a girl’s voice from inside a stall.  “I heard you…you’re a
boy!  You’re not allowed in here – this is a GIRL’S bathroom!”

Tom stayed silent, not daring to move.  

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“Have you come to laugh at me too?  Come to make fun of poor Myrtle?  Well,
hah hah hah – now you’ve had your laugh so go use your own bathroom and leave
me alone!”

Slowly, the door to the stall opened, creaking slightly as it did so, and a girl with
thick glasses that covered red, swollen eyes peered around its edge.  Instantly her
eyes grew wide as they locked with the serpent’s.  Her jaw dropped, her breath
caught in her throat, and her heart stopped.  She dropped to the floor, dead.

Tom walked up to the dead girl and thought about turning her over to look into her
face…to see the face of death.  But he didn’t want to touch a filthy mudblood, so
he let her lie, careful not to let even the hem of his robes brush her lifeless body.

He turned back to the snake and warned, “They’ll be searching for the attacker
when they find her. You should return to the pipes and stay out of sight.  I’m going
back to the common room before I am missed.”  Tom covered himself in his
invisibility cloak and turned toward the door to leave.  As he reached for the
handle, he looked back over his shoulder at the girl slumped on the floor and
sighed, “Finally.”

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Chapter 15
The Unexpected Twist

“Do you think anyone else will die?” asked the Hufflepuff prefect that Tom was
burdened with.  In his mind Tom answered, “I hope so”, but from his mouth came,
“I don’t know.”  

“It’s just awful isn’t it?  I mean – she was in the bathroom!  And they’re saying she
was dead for hours before anyone knew…” She looked up at Tom, still talking,
odd bits of metal shining from her mouth.  “And they’re saying that she was a
muggle-born, too.  Blimey, all of them have been muggle-borns, haven’t they?  D
o you think it’s the heir of Slytherin?”  Tom never had a chance to answer, even if
he had wanted to.  “Everyone’s talking about it, but Professor Dippet says that’s a
myth.  What do you think?”  She went on, not waiting for Tom’s opinion.  

Tom tuned her out, instead surveying the chaos that was Hogwarts.  His nerves
tingled; his every sense was heightened.  He could smell the panic in the air, and
he breathed it in deeply, his nostrils flaring.  He could hear the whispers that
carried the rumors from ear to ear.  He could see the tension in the faces
surrounding him.  He had never felt more alive.

He had sent an owl to Grindelwald as soon as the deed had been done.
Grindelwald…  Tom would be seeing him soon.  Term was nearing the end; the
summer holidays would begin in two weeks.  He had already arranged with Dippet
to stay this summer at Hogwarts rather than return to the orphanage.  Grindelwald
would be hiding in a secret encampment near Hogsmeade, and Tom would be able
to be nearby.  They could meet as often as they liked.  

The girl was still talking.“…and of course, I’m ever so worried because I have
braces.  And you know, a wizarding family wouldn’t make their daughter wear
braces – they’d use magic to straighten her teeth!  So the heir of Slytherin would
know instantly that I’m muggle-born too.”  She prattled on, Tom looking down at
her and making a mental note to remember this particular mudblood.

They walked past the staff room, the door of which was ajar, and another pair of
voices could be heard.  Tom feigned the need to tie a shoe and tilted his head
toward the crack of an opening, willing his ears to hear the conversation from
within.  

“I don’t see that we have a choice, Armando”, Dumbledore was saying.  “We have
to consider the safety of the students, and we can no longer ensure that here at
Hogwarts.  They’ll have to go home.  You must close the school.”  

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Dippet sighed deeply, a sound that signaled resignation to something unpleasant
but inevitable.  “I will make the announcement tomorrow morning at breakfast.
We will end the term early and send everyone home.  No student will be allowed to
stay at Hogwarts.  Ah, Albus.  I should have retired last year.”

Tom was still kneeling, frozen in shock.  Close the school?  No students allowed to
stay?  Tom’s mind began to race.  But Professor Dippet had already promised him.
Everything was arranged.  Surely, he would make an exception for Tom!  He
couldn’t go back to the orphanage…not now…not with the Chamber open and
Grindelwald coming.

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Chapter 16
The Vow

The oaf stood in Dippet’s office, speechless.  

“Professor Dippet, sir”, said Tom, looking appropriately concerned, “on his behalf,
I know Hagrid never meant for anything bad to happen.  He’s drawn to these
monstrous creatures, and well, I don’t think he knew that spider would do any
harm!”

“All the same, people have been attacked!  A student has died.  I just don’t see that
I have any choice in the matter.  I’m very sorry, Hagrid.  But, we will have to expel
you from Hogwarts.”

“Headmaster”, came the pressing voice of Dumbledore, “there is no proof that

Hagrid was involved in these attacks –”

“Albus”, cut in Professor Dippet, “Tom saw him opening the chamber.  Saw him
releasing the beast and allowing it to get away.”  He turned to Hagrid, standing
with his head down and great rivers of water running down his face.  “Do you deny
what Tom has told us, Hagrid?”

“I…I know that spider never did any harm, sir.  He wouldn’t.  He couldn’t!  It
wasn’t ‘im, I tell you.  I’m sure of it.”

“I’m very sorry, Hagrid”, said Dippet, rising unsteadily from his chair, “but I must
ask for your wand.”

Hagrid threw a panicked look at Dumbledore and then back to Dippet.  “But, sir, I
never…You can’t…”  Dumbledore dropped his head.  Dippet remained standing,
his hand outstretched.  Slowly, Hagrid withdrew his wand and placed it in Dippet’s
hand.  The headmaster, displaying a strength that belied his feeble appearance,
snapped the 16-inch long wand in half and returned the pieces to Hagrid, who
stood staring down at them miserably.  

“I am sorry, Hagrid.  Please go and pack your things.”  

Hagrid turned and lumbered out of the room.  Professor Dippet now turned to
Tom.  “I can’t thank you enough, Tom, for helping bring this terrible ordeal to an
end.  I shall make sure you are well rewarded.  A Special Services award, I think.
Go ahead and return to your dormitory for now.”

“Yes, sir” said Tom.  “And, sir – now that the school won’t have to close, will I

99
still be able to stay here during the summer holidays?”  Dumbledore looked up and
his piercing gaze fell upon Tom.

“What? Oh, yes, that.  Well, I don’t see why not”, came Dippet’s reply.

“Thank you, sir”, said Tom, and he turned and left Dippet’s office, feeling the heat
of Dumbledore’s eyes on his back.

Tom did return to his dormitory, but he didn’t stay there.  He grabbed the
invisibility cloak and made his way down to the Chamber.  The familiar serpents
guarding the entrance parted for him and he entered with a heavy heart.

“It must end for now, my friend”, he explained to the basilisk.  “Dumbledore is
more suspicious of me than ever.  He’ll be watching my every move.  It won’t be
safe for you out there.  Someday, I will return for you, I promise.”  

Tom looked up into the great stone face of Salazar Slytherin one last time.  He may
have failed to use the Chamber and the beast within it to complete his ancestor’s
work, but he was young.  He had time and he would find his own way to kill the
mudblood’s and those that protected them – Dumbledore included.  This he vowed
to Salazar, and then turned and walked briskly out.

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Chapter 17
The Last Lesson

Grindelwald stayed hidden near Hogsmeade for not only the summer but for much
of Tom’s 6th year at Hogwarts.  Meeting was difficult, as – true to Tom’s
prediction – Dumbledore kept annoyingly close tabs on every move Tom made.
But Dumbledore did not know that Tom had the cloak, and Tom knew every secret
passageway that led from the castle.

They sat together on a rocky hillside outside of Hogsmeade, flickering flames

casting a yellow-orange glow to the blackness that surrounded them.  Grindelwald
looked at Tom and smiled, his black moustache bending as it coursed down to his
jaw line.  “I have taught you nearly everything I can, Tom.  The curses, the
potions, the ways of the Dark Arts – all of this you have mastered as only a
Slytherin could have done.  It has been an honor to tutor you – and to call you my
apprentice.”

Tom flushed with pride at these words, but underneath he couldn’t help feeling a
surge of panic.  “You’re not leaving, are you?”  He couldn’t bear the thought of
Grindelwald going away again.  The past 10 months had been so wonderful, so
perfect.  He loved this man who had been more of a father to him than the fool that
had broken his mother’s heart.

Grindelwald chuckled.  “I can’t stay here forever, Tom.  I must go abroad again,
and you must finish your schooling.  I have one last, great gift to teach you and
then, after you finish school, I will send for you.  Together we will build a Dark
Empire the likes of which this world has never seen.”

Tom’s face shone in the firelight, a mixture of excitement, anticipation and great
sadness.  He felt so many things at once – what was this new gift he would uncover
tonight? And the thought of he and Grindelwald working side by side in the Dark
Arts…it was a dream come true.  But, the great wizard would be leaving, and Tom
would be alone again.

Grindelwald stood up, his cloak billowing slightly in the light spring breeze.  “It’s
time, my boy, for you to learn your final, most deadly curse.  Avada Kedavra – the
killing curse.”  He brought a small wire cage into the firelight, and inside a large
gray rat scampered from side to side, looking for a way out.  Its nose twitched
feverishly as it bobbed up and down on its hind legs, searching every inch of its
enclosure.

“Now, stand up and face the rat.  Point your wand like so”, he said, demonstrating
with his own wand.  “Look into the rat’s eyes and focus all of your energy on the

101
hatred inside you.  Picture your father…picture Dumbledore…and summon your
hatred to do your bidding.”

Tom stood and followed Grindelwald’s instructions.  He looked at the rat and saw
the face his father and he felt a swell of hatred rise like a tidal wave.  His gaze
became intense and furious and his blood felt as if it would boil out of his veins.

“That’s it, my boy, that’s it.  Now, just as your hatred reaches its crescendo, say the
words ‘Avada Kedavra’.”

As the words left Tom’s mouth, an intense green light flooded from the end of his
wand and enveloped the rat.  It instantly dropped dead.

Grindelwald’s moustache bent again as he smiled at Tom and said, “You are ready.
I have taught you all I can.  I shall see you in a year’s time, when Grindelwald and
Tom Riddle – no…Grindelwald and Lord Voldemort – will show the world that its
future lies in our hands and in the rise of the Dark Order.”

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Chapter 18
The Reunion

The house loomed before him for the second time in his life.  It seemed smaller
now.  Maybe that was just a trick of his memory.  The last time he had been a little
boy.  Scared…lost…searching.  He wasn’t a little boy now, and he certainly wasn’t
scared.

He had arrived earlier in the day and spent that time watching.  He didn’t want to
enter until he was sure everyone was home.  So he watched and waited, crouched
among the foliage as he had done so many years ago.  As evening approached, he
could see through the large center window that three people sat at a table, prepared
for dinner.  It was time.

He stood up and took a deep breath as he walked up to the door.  He withdrew his
wand, pointed it at the handle and muttered, “Aperio.”  The door swung silently
forward and Tom Riddle entered his father’s house for the first time.  He walked
without making a sound down a dark hallway, moving toward the sound of
silverware on china and muffled conversation.  

His wand still in his hand, Tom stepped into view, framed by the large double-
doorway of the dining room.

There was the sudden sound of utensils crashing onto plates and the scraping of
chairs on wood floors as the three dining Riddles reacted with shock to their
sudden visitor.  “Who are you – what do you want?” asked the eldest man.  He was
dressed in a black suit and stood leaning on the table with one gnarled hand.  In his
other he still grasped his sterling knife, apparently poised to try to protect himself
and his family.  Tom’s green eyes, alight with power and excitement, flickered to it
and he couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from curling upwards.  “Accio knife”,
said Tom, almost lazily, and it zoomed across to him, landing in his outstretched
hand as if pulled there by an invisible string.  The old man’s mouth gaped and he
sank weak-kneed back into his chair.

“YOU!” exclaimed the other man at the table.  His father now started to stand up,
flushing scarlet with anger, his eyes popping with fury as he realized who now
stood before him.  “I told you never to come back here.  Why have you come?
What do you want?”

“Oh, Father!” said Tom with a mock lilt in his voice.  “Why have I come?  Well, to
see you of course!  I wanted to show you what I have become.  That, and of course,
for revenge.”  His lips curled again.

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His father made a sudden move toward Tom, knocking over his chair and the old
woman at the table screamed.  Tom raised his wand and shouted, “Imperio!” and
his father stopped in mid-step, an odd, glazed expression spreading across his face.
“Now”, continued Tom, “sit down.”  Still looking slack-jawed, his father calmly
returned to his chair, righted it and sat down.  The old man and woman exchanged
nervous, searching looks.  

Tom walked up behind the old woman.  She was clutching her napkin with both
hands, wringing it back and forth.  Her face blanched a pasty white as Tom leaned
forward, kissed her on the cheek, and said, “Why, hello Grandmother.  So nice to
meet you at last.”  She recoiled when his thin, cold lips touched her as if they had
been electrified.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks.  “You don’t seem happy
at all to see your grandson.  I should have thought –”

“I – I don’t have a grandson”, she whispered croakily.  “I d-don’t kn-know who
you are!”

“Oh, I assure you – you do have a grandson, for he is standing here beside you.”
Tom turned to his father, sitting motionless and expressionless at the table.  “Tell
them, Father.  Tell them who I am.”

His father responded in a strange, flat voice.  “You are Tom Riddle, my son.”  The
old woman raised the napkin to her mouth to stifle the cry that burst forth.

“And tell them, father, what happened to me when I was born.”

“I left your mother because she was a monster.  A witch.  I never told anyone why
I left her or that she was pregnant.  She died giving birth to you.  I left you in the
orphanage in Little Hangleton because I knew you would be a monster too.”

“Yes, that’s right”, said Tom, in mock heaviness.  “There I was, at the bottom of
the hill, living in an orphanage.  No money.  No family.  And all that time, you sat
up here in this big house, not caring that you left me to rot.”  His voice turned
harsh and cold at those last words, all trace of playfulness gone.  “Tell me you’re
sorry.”

“I’m sorry”, came the dull voice of his father, still dazed under the Imperious
curse.

Tom’s cold voice replied, “I do not forgive you”, as he raised his wand.  The room
flooded with blinding green light three times in rapid succession, and when the
third flash faded, the three Riddles sat in their dining chairs, looking untouched,
shocked, and completely dead.

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105
Chapter 19
The Dark Mark

They sat in a circle in the common room, near the fire.  They talked in low, hushed,
conspiratorial whispers, glancing furtively to be sure no one could hear them and
what they were plotting.

“I got his owl today.  Graduation is in two weeks, and then I’m flying immediately
to meet him in London.”  Tom was still holding the parchment he’d received from
Grindelwald, wrinkled and worn from being read over and over.  “After we get
established, you can all join with us.”

“Tom –”

Tom glared at the sandy-haired boy who had addressed him.

“Uh – I mean, Lord Voldemort…how will you let us know when it’s time to join
you?”

Tom drew out his wand and said to the boy, “Give me your left arm.”  

The boy looked dubiously back at Tom and then glanced left to right.  Slowly he
pulled up the sleeve of his robe and hesitantly extended his arm to Tom.  Tom
grasped the arm tightly, rolling it to expose the underside of the forearm.  He
placed his wand tip against the boy’s white skin and said, “Morsmordre insignio!”
Immediately black lines spread from the point where the wand had touched the
skin, criss-crossing back and forth, spreading until they formed the shape of a skull
with a serpent in its gaping mouth.  The boy exhaled sharply as though acid had
etched the image on his arm.

Tom looked up at the others.  “We will each get this mark.  If you touch the arm of
a follower, the mark will appear.  It is how you will know whom you can trust.
When I desire your presence I will cause your marks to burn black and you are to
find your way to me.  We are united under the Dark Mark forever.”

It was nearly three months before the mark burned upon the arms of Lord
Voldemort’s faithful.  Tom had met Grindelwald in a dark corner of the Leaky
Cauldron the day after he had graduated from Hogwarts.  They spent several days
stocking up on supplies in Diagon Alley before heading to Grindelwald’s secret
encampment deep in the Black Forest.  Tom had heard many stories about
Grindelwald’s dark army, and he was finally going to join him at the helm.  

Acting as Grindelwald’s lieutenant proved more difficult than simply being Head

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Boy at Hogwarts.  But there was no doubting Tom’s incredible power, his mastery
of the dark forces.  In a short time he had earned the respect of most of the men
and women, and those that didn’t respect him feared him.  And that was just as
good in Tom’s book.  

Soon after the Dark Mark blackened upon the arms of those that had sat in the
Slytherin common room that night so many months before, his followers began to
appear and joined with Grindelwald’s army.  They were growing incredibly
powerful, perhaps unstoppable.  Even the muggles felt their dark presence, and war
and chaos reigned throughout the region.

Tom sat by the flickering light of 3 candles he had magically suspended in the air
as he poured his thoughts and memories into his diary.  “Voldemort!” bellowed
Grindelwald as he pushed open the door to Tom’s room.  The candles flickered
violently in the rush of air.  “I have a special mission for you.  You must leave
immediately.”  

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Chapter 20
The Death Eaters

Tom landed lightly on the edge of the Black Forest.  His meeting in Hogsmeade
with Grindelwald’s operative had gone without a hitch, and Tom had a package to
pass on to his Master.  Grindelwald was leaning casually against the jagged wall of
an old stone building, the ruined remains of what had once been a small farm, now
reduced to rubble by the war.  They had prearranged to meet here, away from the
Dark Army and in the cover of night to discuss Tom’s mission.

They embraced quickly, Grindelwald beaming with pride as he saw the evidence of
Tom’s successful journey in his hands.  “You had no problems then?” he asked.  

“No”, replied Tom.  “No one took any notice of us.”  

“Excellent.”  He began to open the brown wrapping that enclosed the package.

“How unlike you, Grindelwald, to be caught out in the open so carelessly”, came a
voice suddenly out of the darkness.  Tom knew that voice, but couldn’t believe his
ears.  That voice belonged hundreds, thousands of miles away.  It was
Dumbledore!

Grindelwald grabbed Tom’s arm and pulled him behind the stone wall, where they
crouched, listening and trying to locate the location of the speaker.

“I happened to be in Hogsmeade yesterday”, the voice continued, “when what

should appear before me but young Tom Riddle in the company of someone I
knew was part of your network.  I was intrigued.  I contacted the ministry and then
I followed him here.  To you.”

Grindelwald raised his wand and a silver form, rather like a bird, shot out of it and
flew off into the forest.  “My army is not far, Dumbledore.  I’ve just summoned
them and they’ll be arriving in moments.”

“Oh, they will be a bit too busy to attend to your request, I’m afraid.  As we speak,
members of the Ministry are descending upon their encampment”, replied
Dumbledore.

In an instant, Tom knew this was true.  He could hear sudden blasts coming from
deep within the forest.  The ground trembled with the force of the terrible battle
was now being waged between the Dark Army and the Ministry.

Grindelwald turned to Tom and whispered, “You must run, Tom.  Go deep into the

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forest and hide.”

“No!” hissed Tom in reply.  “Never!  I’ll not leave you here to fight alone.”

“Dumbledore and I are about to duel.  You may not enter that fight, Tom.  Now,
keep your head down, and after the duel begins, make a break for the forest.”  And
with those words, Grindelwald stood up and faced Dumbledore.  The two great
wizards locked eyes, slightly inclined their bodies in a hint of a bow, and suddenly
whipped wands at each other, curses hurling across the darkness and barely
missing their marks.  Part of the stone wall next to Grindelwald exploded into a
shower of fragments, and Grindelwald dived behind an old watering trough,
drawing the fire away from where Tom crouched.

Tom didn’t know what to do.  “I have to help him”, he thought desperately, “but
how?  I can’t enter the fight!”  He watched helplessly as the air around him filled
with the violent flashes of multicolor light, and Grindelwald’s shape, darting from
one barrier to the next, became obscured by smoke and haze.  Grindelwald was
getting pinned by the relentless curses hurled at him by Dumbledore.

Tom peered around the edge of the wall that shielded him.  He could see
Dumbledore advancing on Grindelwald’s position.  He might not be able to attack
Dumbledore directly, but… He grabbed his wand, pointed it at a remaining
window in the old farm house to Dumbledore’s left and muttered, “Fractio!”  It
worked!  As the window shattered, Dumbledore turned to his left long enough for
Grindelwald to act.  Grindelwald sent a huge stone hurtling at Dumbledore,
catching him squarely in the face just as he was turning back.  There was a
sickening crunch and Dumbledore fell to his knees, his nose broken, his once white
beard now scarlet with blood.

Tom used the break in action to dash to Grindelwald’s side.  He was injured,
bleeding from a deep wound in his wand arm.

“Voldemort!  You MUST go.  You must return to what is left of our army.  Take
them into hiding.  Only you can rebuild them – you will be their leader now.  I can
hold off Dumbledore for another moment while you run, but I cannot hold him for
long.  I’m too badly injured – ”

“NO!” cried Tom, his eyes wide with anguish.

“Tom…my boy…my son …it is my time to die.  And it is your time to rise.  That
is the order of things.  Death is the one dark force you cannot master.  We all must
surrender to it eventually.  Now, go – and don’t look back.”

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“Master…”, came Tom’s voice, quivering with fear and anger, “I will rise greater
and more terrible than this world has ever known.  And I will vanquish Death.
And when Death is my slave and I am its master, then you shall rise again and join
me forever!”  

Dumbledore had gotten to his feet.  His blue eyes blazed in the darkness, his fury
rolling in waves from his body as he advanced upon them.  Grindelwald cast a
curse in Dumbledore’s direction, giving Tom time to run into the blackness of the
forest behind them.  He ran deep into the woods, into safety, but not before hearing
a deafening blast and the final cry of Grindelwald.  He stopped and collapsed at the
base of a tree, breath moving in ragged sobs.

He burned with hatred.  Hatred for his father – for all muggles.  Hatred for
Dumbledore.  But most of all, hatred for Death.  Death had stolen both his mother
and Grindelwald, the only two people that had ever loved him.  

After a moment, Tom stood up and straightened his spine, wiping the tears from
his pale skin – the last tears he would ever cry.  He would return to the scattered
remains of the dark army and rebuild it into a new force – his army.  His followers
would carry the Dark Mark and they would commit themselves to defeating death.
They would destroy anyone, anything that stood in their way.  He and his Death
Eaters would bring to bear a reign of terror against all on Earth that had brought
him such misery.

Dumbledore and the Ministry may have won today.  But what they didn’t know…
what they couldn’t know…was that this battle was just beginning.  

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111
 How The
Stag Got
Its Antlers

112
113
How The Stag Got Its Antlers

It was a hot spring day at Hogwarts, as James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin,
Peter Pettigrew, and a group of girls walked across the grounds over to the lake.
There, all the girls were giggling at a joke Sirius had just told, but it was as if
James was in another world. Lupin was not sure whether he was worrying about-
facing Slytherin today for the last time, or if it was Lily Evans. It turned out to be
easy enough to figure that one out. All you had to do was follow James’ gaze, and
it led right across the lake to a group of girls that Lily was apart of. Lily had long,
thick, red hair, which she had pulled back in a ponytail today. How James longed
to look into her beautiful green eyes. He just loved their almond-shape.
All of the guys had a nickname of course. James was known as Prongs among the
guys. Sirius was known as Padfoot, Peter as Wormtail. Lupin was known as
Moony. Of course, there is a good explanation of all of this. Lupin was a werewolf,
and since they were all best friends, they became illegal, unregistered Animagus’
so that they could be around Lupin during the full moon, and not be at risk of him
biting them. Sirius was a black dog, Peter was a rat, and James was a stag. That is
how they got their nicknames, of course.
It was their sixth year at Hogwarts and it was almost over. They couldn’t wait to
leave Hogwarts. They have been waiting for this since they came to Hogwarts.
Course, James did not want to leave Hogwarts yet. He did not want to leave until
he had Lily.

“Hey, Prongs! Are you going to come over here or are you gonna waste your time
daydreaming about Evans?” Said Padfoot mockingly.
James looked at Sirius with a murderous look then said, “I guess your right, but I
think I really may be too conceited.”
“Cheer up, Prongs!” said Moony, “It’s almost a full moon, you know.” Then he
winked at James, “and plus, here comes Snivellus.”

An evil grin came across James’ face but then it faded. “I can’t,” he said.
“Even if you can’t, I can!” said Sirius, and before James could stop him, Sirius
yelled, “Hey Snivellus! Come over here. We have a surprise for you!” Severus
looked at them and shot them a nasty look, and then he walked away, but before he
could get out of range, Sirius had pulled out his wand and yelled, “STUPEFY!”
and Severus was stunned. Then Sirius walked over and said “Ennervate” and
quickly grabbed Snape by his robes and then used the levitation spell and Snape
rose into the air, while kicking and screaming. At that moment Wormtail yelled
“SILENCIO!” and Severus stopped screaming.
“Let him go, Padfoot!” said James, as he saw Lily walking over.
“But, Prongs, that would ruin all the fun, and plus, I’m bored! I already know
everything I need to know for the exams!” complained Sirius.

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“I SAID LET HIM GO!” demanded James, “or I’ll stun you!”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Oh yes I would! And you know it.” Threatened James.
“But, James, we were only having a little fun with Snivellus.” Insisted Wormtail.
But by then James had lost his temper.
“EXPELLIARMUS!” yelled James, and Sirius’ wand flew ten feet away from him,
and Snape fell to the ground. Then before Peter could do anything, he heard James’
voice scream “LOCOMOTOR MORTIS!” and his legs were stuck together. James
took the Silencing charm off Snape, and then Severus looked around, then to James
and said, “ARE YOU INSANE?!” then began to walk away.
“You’re welcome…” said James sarcastically, and walked away towards his dorm
room, but Moony was chasing after him.
“James! James!” Moony yelled, “DUDE! JAMES! Sirius is really shocked.” He
said as he caught up to James. “He didn’t think you’d actually do anything.”
“Well, as you said, he didn’t think… He should have listened to me…” said James
sourly.
“You’re right… He DIDN’T think. That was the problem He didn’t stop and think
about what he was doing. He has hung around you for so long, and you two have
always made fun and done things to Snivellus.” Said Lupin, but James scowled at
him and Lupin amended his last statement, “sorry! I meant Severus, not Snivellus.
But since when have you been so sour on this subject? You have always thought it
was fun…”
“I grew up, Moony. I grew up. I mean, don’t you see how childish this is? You’re a
prefect… you should know. First of all, it is completely against the rules. And
secondly… It’s not as fun anymore. I have my mind on other things now. I have
lost interest in torturing Severus…” explained James,
“And you have gained interest in Lily, correct?” asked Lupin.
“James…” said a voice quietly behind them, but they both knew whom it was,
“listen man, I’m sorry. You have no idea how bad we feel.”
“Speak for yourself, Sirius! You didn’t have your legs locked together!” said Peter.
“Well then, you don’t know how bad I feel. I’m sorry dude. I just don’t get all of
these new things going on. I mean, you used to love playing with… err. What’s his
real name?” said Sirius.
“It’s Severus… Severus Snape.” Said James, “and don’t forget it!”
“Uh, yeah, Severus. I just don’t get why all of a sudden we can’t do anything to
him. It’s crazy, man!”
“Well…” said James a little uneasily, “I’m trying to be more mature. You said it
yourself, read between the lines! Lily thinks I’m conceited, and I need to show her
that I’m not as conceited as she thinks. I really like her, Sirius.” Explained James,
but all of a sudden a young girl walked up behind them and said, “Well, James
Potter, you sure have an odd way of showing it, all right! First fooling around with
Snivellus, and NOW… turning your wand on your best friends! Who knows, next

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you could be turning it on me! You honestly scare me!” Lily said the continued to
walk off towards the library.

“Wow…” Peter’s mouth fell open, “that was really deep. Maybe the girl is right,
James. You never know who you could turn your wand on next.” He finished a
little uneasily.
James walked over to the picture of the Fat Lady, and sunk down onto the floor
next to the picture. “But I would never do anything to hurt Lily… I love her!” then
James realized what he had just said and covered his mouth, but Sirius, Lupin, and
Peter had all heard him as clear as day.
No one spoke until Sirius decided to change the subject in a successful attempt to
ease the tension. “So, James, don’t you think we should go to lunch, so you’ll have
energy for the big match today? I mean, the seeker is the most important part in a
game of quidditch.”
“Yeah, of course, Sirius! Let’s go James,” said Remus, “Isn’t that a wonderful idea
Peter? Food is very good. Especially since it’s almost the full moon, and I’ll be my
‘other’ self soon.” But James didn’t want food.
“You three go ahead… I’ll catch up with you later, I promise.” Said James.
“If you’re sure.” said Peter, “okay. But make sure you get SOMETHING to eat
before the match.”
“I promise.” said James, and with that the three of them walked off leaving James
by himself.
“Why the long face, my dear?” asked the Fat Lady as Sirius, Peter, and Remus
walked away.
“Oh, nothing, it’s just a girl. Why are they so complicated?” asked James.
“Well, that’s a hard question to answer, even for a girl, as I am. It is very difficult
to say. Anyways, whom is this girl that has you so down?” said the Fat Lady.
“Her name is Lily. Lily Evans. She has the prettiest red hair and beautiful almond-
shaped green eyes. And her smile! She is everything I could ever hope for! Well,”
James said, “ALMOST everything. She thinks I’m a conceited jerk.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that…” said a shy voice behind them. James turned
around. “Lily!” James blushed as he said this then looked down. “How…how long
have you been, uh… standing three? I mean, how much did you hear?”
“Oh… She’s been standing there about as long as it took you to tell me her name.
She walked in just as you said her name and stopped in her tracks.” Explained the
Fat Lady. James bit his lip and continued to look down, but Lily walked over to
him and pushed his chin up.
“I never knew you felt this way, James.” Said Lily, “I mean, I knew you were
always showing off and asking me to go out with you, but I thought that you
wanted me to be a trophy… I never knew you actually, really, truly cared.”
“Well, I do, Lily. I really, actually, truly care about you. I’d never do anything to
hurt you. I WOULD severely hurt anyone who tried to hurt you, even if it was one
of my closest friends. When Severus called you a you-know-what last year, it tore

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me apart to hear anyone talk to you that way. I wanted to curse him so bad, but you
had told me to let him go so I did. If it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have
stopped doing it.” Explained James.
“Wow… You aren’t as conceited as I thought, James Potter,” said Lily.
“Listen, Lily. I have to go eat before the match tonight, but if you will… wait for
me outside of our changing room area after the match, and walk back to the castle
with Me.” pleaded James.
“Of course I will, Prongs.” Lily said teasingly.
“Alright. I’ll see you later Lily.” James said as a huge smile came across his face
and he left her, and made his way down to the Great Hall, smiling the whole time.

“Hey James! What’s up with the goofy look on your face?” said Moony
questionally.
“Yeah,” added Sirius, “did someone put a Cheering charm on you or something?”
“Nah… But guess who talked to me!” said James.
“Who? Dumbledore?” joked Peter.
“No. Lily! She’s meeting me after the match and walking me back to the castle!”
“Wow. How did you pull that one off? Did you put her under the Imperius Curse
or something?” said Sirius, sounding a little too serious.
“Of course not! I would NEVER do anything to hurt Lily! I told you all that!” said
James, rather annoyed.
“We know. Padfoot was only kidding, James.” Said Lupin.
“Well, it wasn’t a funny joke. I mean, if someone had actually heard you saying
something about me using an Unforgivable Curse, I could get in major trouble.”
scolded James.
“Sorry, dude.” Said Sirius.
“But seriously! How did you get her to talk to you, let alone meet you after the
match and spend even more time around you?” questioned Wormtail.
“Well, it’s all really simple. I was talking to the Fat Lady, and well, she kind of
overheard me talking about how much I care about her, and so she confronted me
about it, and we talked things over. And that was that.” replied James.
“Wicked!” said Wormtail.
“Awesome, James.” Said Lupin.
“Cool. I’m err—happy for you, James.” Said Sirius a little shaky.
“What’s the matter, Padfoot?”
“Oh, nothing Moony.” Replied Sirius, “It’s just. Doesn’t this seem a little weird to
you? All of a sudden, when James here has been chasing after Lily, and NOW
despite the fact that Lily used to hate James, now she is going to meet him after the
Quidditch match, and it seems that they are going to be with each other a lot, and
maybe even be with each other over the summer! Soon enough he’ll probably ditch
us during full moons too!” said Sirius, as a vein was popping out of his arm.
“Whoa! Slow down, Sirius. You know damn right that I would never leave you
during full moons! That is one thing I would never give up! It’s our time to be

117
alone without having to worry about classes, and Snape interfering.” Said James.
“Calm down, both of you! You are supposed to be best friends, not biting each
other’s heads off!” said Lupin, “I mean, GOD! You two have been down each
other’s throats all day! I for one am sick of it. I don’t know where you got the idea
that James was going to ditch us for Lily, but I for one know that that is not going
to happen. I trust James totally. And so should you, Sirius.”
“ I know. It’s just… all happening too fast. First she can’t stand him, now they are
almost going out and it feels like I’m loosing James.” Said Sirius. “Dude, you can’t
get rid of me that easily! You should know that by now.” James assured Sirius.
“Aw, man!” said Peter jokingly, “I was hoping…” then he laughed sternly, and
then Lupin looked at him.
“You are really strange, Wormtail.”
“Yeah. Are you just figuring that out, Remus?” asked Sirius.
“Nah, I’ve known it since he first started to go on about the ‘horses’ pilling the
carriages that bring us up to the castle. And that was only our second year.” replied
Lupin.
“Yeah! I still haven’t seen them!” said James thoughtfully.
“I’m not crazy! I’m telling you,” said Wormtail crossing his arms over his chest.
“We believe you.” Said James as he shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his
mouth and reached for a roll.
“Hey, slow down! You’re going to eat so much; you’ll make yourself sick! And
that can’t happen! We only have one Seeker! And even if we did have another one,
he or she wouldn’t be anywhere near as good as you are!” said Sirius.
“Whatever.” Said James in between bites, “I’m hungry, and you’re the one who
said I needed to eat!”
“Well, since when have you listened to him?” asked Lupin.
“Yeah! Since when have you listened to me—HEY! That’s not funny, Moony!”
Sirius said as he gave Remus a nasty look.

James had finally finished eating and he went back towards the Fat Lady’s portrait,
and all of a sudden he heard a loud bang. He looked around and noticed that a book
had fallen off the desk. ‘But how?’ he thought. James walked over to it and saw
that it was someone’s Defense Against the Dark Arts book. It was obviously a
fifth-year book, because he had had the same book the previous year. He decided
to bring it to the common room with him because, using logic, he figured it had to
be a Gryffindor’s because it was left right outside the entrance to the common
room. So, James took the book, and walked over to the portrait of the Fat Lady.
“Password?” asked the Fat Lady.
“Orchideois” replied James, and the Fat Lady allowed him in. James left a notice
on the board that said “Fifth Year Defense Against the Dark Arts book found. If
yours, contact James Potter.” And then he went up to his dorm room, which he
shared with his best friends, and one other boy that they had never paid much
attention to. In fact, they didn’t even know his name.

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James sat down on his bed and sighed. He was all excited about the match coming
up. Dumbledore would be the announcer of course, and James knew it would be an
easy match. Slytherin was very sloppy this year. Their keeper wasn’t good at all,
and one of their Beaters got hit with the Bludger more than he hit it with his Beater
Stick. James couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of that. Their Seeker wasn’t
bad, but he was no match for James, and everyone knew it. One of Slytherin’s
Chasers wasn’t wonderful, but he was okay. She had a tendency to drop the
Quaffle when it was thrown to him. James knew today would be easy. Finally,
James pulled himself together, and put the missing book into his trunk, and then
went down to the Quidditch field.
On the way down, James ran into Lily again.
“Hey James!” shouted Lily.
“Hi, Lily. This is a pleasant surprise.” James said as a smile came across his face.
“Good luck. Although you won’t need it.” Said Lily, then she hugged James, and
kissed his cheek then ran off towards the stands. James just stood there in shock.
He gently touched his cheek, then shook his head and headed towards the changing
room. There, the team captain gave them a short pep talk, and then it was time for
them to go out onto the field. They all flew out, and then landed. The referee said,
“On my count… One—Two –Three!” and the players all kicked off and the game
had begun. Everybody could hear Dumbledore’s voice booming throughout the
field, “And Slytherin is in possession, wait! The Chaser dropped the Quaffle!
Gryffindor now in possession. Just missed the Bludger! GRYFFINDOR
SCORES!” and it went on like that for another half an hour, and then finally,
James saw the Snitch. He knew if he went straight to it, the other Seeker would
follow, so he dove to the other side of the Quidditch Pitch, and the Slytherin
Seeker followed suit. Finally, after James, who was the better flyer, had led the
other Seeker around on a wild goose chase, James flew faster than before, straight
at the Snitch, and then everybody heard Dumbledore’s voice boom again, “The
Slytherin Seeker has just stole the Beater Stick from the Slytherin Beater, and just
wailed the Bludger at James Potter!” and James had barely noticed, but it had just
grazed his elbow, and his Quidditch robes were torn, but he was not hurt really
badly. He just reached out, and snatched the Snitch as it pulled him downward
towards the ground. James leveled out, and landed. As he landed, he heard
Dumbledore’s voice booming, “GYFFINDOR WINS! GRYFFINDOR WINS!
240-20! GRYFFINDOR WINS!” There was loud screaming, and many ‘boos’
coming from the Slytherins.

After their victory lap, they all came in, the captain gave a short speech, and James
hurriedly got changed, and ran out and only waited about two minutes for Lily to
show up.
“Hey, Jams! Awesome match. That was some fantastic fling.” Said Lily, as she
walked up behind him.

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“Thanks.” Said James as he blushed.
“Aww, don’t blush because of me.” Said Lily, then she giggled, “It’s the truth
anyways.”
“Yes, but still. It’s you who’s giving me he compliment, so it makes it extra
special.” Said James and it as Lily’s turn to blush. “Hey now! Don’t you go
blushing after you just told me not to!” he said jokingly.
“I’m a girl, I have the right to. We’re not as good as guys when it comes to taking
compliments. We are shyer!” explained Lily.
“Here, I have something for you.” Said James as he held out his wand, and
mumbled a simple spell, and he had a dozen roses in his hand, which made Lily
blush even more.
“Why, thank you” said Lily, as James handed her the flowers.
“So, where to? I thought we may be able to take a walk, but just a small on, before
heading back to the castle, if that’s okay with you.” Said James solemnly.
“Of course it is.” Said Lily softly.
“Alright, let’s go then.” Said James, as he led Lily to the left, where little did she
now, he had another surprise for her. He and found a unicorn earlier, and a centaur,
and he had asked the centaur to watch the unicorn, and try to keep it there. Before
the match, James went to make sure it was still there, and it was, so James figured
it would still be there. As they turned the corner, Lily saw the unicorn there,
running around in the semi-open field, and she stopped in her tracks.
"Oh James! It's beautiful! I can't believe it. Can we go closer?" Lily said as if she
was a little kid in a candy shop.
"Of course, Lily. Anything you want." said James. Then they continued on toward
the unicorn, and James saw the centaur gallop away, and James knew that it would
return to talk to him again soon. Lily had gone up to pet the unicorn, and after a
few minutes Lily yawned.
"Are you tired?" asked James
"Just a little." replied Lily.
"Do you want to go back up to the castle then?" asked James.
Lily replied, "I guess we should get going, but not until I do something."
"And what would that be?" said James a little confused.
"This..." said Lily, then kissed James' lips softly, then pulled away and smiled at
him, and then giggled and his confused face, "You are too funny, James Potter."
she said, then slowly, and softly kissed him again.
James smiled and kissed her back.
"Come on. We should get going. I don't want the guys to send out a search team,”
said James, and Lily giggled, “Why are girls always doing that?" asked James.
"Doing what?" said Lily innocently.
"Giggling! It's like; you have a way of talking or communicating through just
giggles! It's kinda freaky,” explained James.
"Oh? Well, what if we do? Maybe we need a secret way to communicate without
all of you guys interrupting us or overhearing." said Lily, as they approached the

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castle, and walked in.
"Well, I guess I should get going now. Thanks for spending time with me, Lily."
said James.
"Hey! We're in the same house, aren't we? Aren't you going to at least walk me to
the common room?" asked Lily.
"Of course. It would be my pleasure." Responded James.
Lily smiled and James offered her his hand, and she took it. They walked up and
made their way to the portrait of the Fat Lady. When they got there they told her
the password, and she let them in.
“Thanks for the wonderful time.” Said Lily, then she kissed James one more time,
and she ran up the stairs to her dorm room. All of a sudden, James noticed a big
black dog, hidden by the couch, a rat next to that, and Moony laying down on the
couch, all hiding. Then Peter and Sirius both transformed back, and Lupin sat up.
All three of them looked at him silently for a minute, and then Sirius spoke up.
“Did she just kiss you, man?” he said in a surprised tone.
“Yeah, I think she did.” Replied Lupin.
“Yeah. She definitely kissed James. Lily Evans KISSED James! Who would have
thought it?” said Wormtail in disbelief.
James just ignored them and went upstairs to their dorm room, got changed, laid
down, and went to bed. He slept well, and didn’t wake up once the whole night.
The next morning James expected to be woken up by Sirius as usual, but he was
wrong. When he opened his eyes he saw not his best friend, but Lily. He smiled,
and stretched out his arms and everything.
“Hi, sleepyhead.” Said Lily.
“Hello, beautiful.” He managed to get out before he yawned, “How long have you
been there?” he asked.
“Oh, not long… about twenty minutes.” Replied Lily.
“WHAT?!” James said as he sat up and realized that he couldn’t stand up with her
in the room because he was not dressed. “Just kidding!” said Lily, “Remus just let
me in five minutes ago.”
“Oh. You still should have woken me up, instead of waiting for me to get up.
Anyways where is Sirius?” James said as he looked at the clock, “He was supposed
to have woke me up forty-five minutes ago! Of course, this is better.” Then he
smiled.
“I’m glad you liked it.” Said Lily, then she kissed him, “I’ll wait in the common
room while you get dressed. The guys agreed to let me eat with you lot today.”
Then she got up and went down to the common room. James jumped up, threw on
his robes, grabbed his wand, messed up his hair as usual, but decided to brush it so
it was neat, then ran down the stone steps, almost tripping on the way down, then
into the common room. When he looked over at Lily, she was sitting by the fire,
staring into it. James smiled and walked up behind her and kissed her cheek softly.
“Hey!” he said.
“Hello.” She said as she turned around, “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

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“Well, I had something to motivate me today.” Said James.
“What was that? Food?” said Lily trying to sound serious.
“No! YOU! You are better than food, but I am kind of hungry…” said James
thoughtfully. Then Lily took his hand and tried to pull him towards the portrait
hole, but he wouldn’t move.
“Why aren’t you moving?” Lily asked him.
“Because I don’t want to go down just yet. I want to be with you right now.” James
replied.
“But if you’re hungry…” Lily insisted.
“Trying to get rid of me already are ya?” joked James.
“Not if I can help it.” Replied Lily, then she looked into his eyes and he knew she
wasn’t lying.
“Alright, let’s get going.” Said James. Then they walked out of the common room,
and down to the Great Hall.
“Hey, James! Hello, Lily.” Said Peter
“Hey you two!” said Sirius, “You have fun last night?”
Lily didn’t say anything, and sat down next to James.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Said James jokingly, then he became serious,
“Of course I did. I was with the prettiest girl in the whole school, and the one with
the best personality.”
Lily couldn’t help but blush again, and she felt James squeeze her hand and smile
at her.
“I had a wonderful time as well. The unicorn was so beautiful, and James was even
more amazing.” Said Lily.
“Well, good for you two. James, don’t forget about tonight. You know what it is.”
Said Sirius.
“Yeah, I know, Sirius. Lily…” James said, “I won’t be around for a few days. It’s a
thing I have to do every month. I’m sorry.”
“I understand. I’ll wait for you.” Said Lily.
“I’m so glad you understand.” Replied James.
“It’s a friend thing. If I couldn’t understand that, what kind of person would I be?”
asked Lily, “I understand that you have to be with Remus while he’s sick. It must
be some disease to be away every month.”
“Err… Yeah, it is.” Said Peter.
“Yeah, a very bad one.” Added Sirius. James just shoved food into his mouth,
avoiding the subject. Finally after James had eaten enough, he said, “I have to go
to the library before Potions. I’ll see you all in class.” Then he bent down, kissed
Lily’s cheek then went off to the library.
James walked into the library to see that it was almost empty. He noticed Severus
was in there, and another boy sitting on the other side of the room. James
recognized his as the boy who slept in their dorm room. Instead of going over to
the boy, he walked over to the book case, took out a book on the Draught of Peace
for the Potions essay the Potions teacher had assigned. James had gotten an ‘O’ on

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his Potions O.W.L., so he had been accepted into the N.E.W.T. group, along with
his friends, Lily, and a handful of others, which included Severus. James scribbled
on for close to an hour, and he wrote small, and he had already exceeded the length
requirement by half a foot, when Lily came in looking for him.
“Hey, James! Sirius and I were talking… He told me about you guys being
Animaguses, and why. I completely understand. Now it’s all logical! You four
being away every month! During full moons none-the-less! All I had to do was put
two and two together. I understand. It’s okay. Sirius obviously trusts me enough to
tell me, otherwise he wouldn’t have told me, right?” said Lily in almost a whisper.
“Yeah. I guess, he must.” Said James as he bent his head back down and continued
writing.
“James! At least talk to me! You aren’t going to be able to for at least two days!
So, whatever it is, you better get it out now!” said Lily a little louder.
“I’m sorry. I just have to finish this essay. I need this Potions N.E.W.T. I’m sorry
Lils. Can we talk about this today, after classes? I only have four classes… of
course it is double Herbology… but that’s this morning. I won’t be late today. I’ll
be done with all my classes by about one. The same time as you, of course. I
promise we will have plenty of time to talk. I don’t have to be with the guys until
seven. I promise we’ll talk.” Said James as he finished his last sentence, and rolled
up his parchment. He then stood up and held out his hand, “Walk me to class?” he
asked, and Lily took his hand. “Of course Prongs,” said Lily, and she smiled and
they walked out of the library and started to walk down the hall when someone
called James’ name. They looked back and it was Snape.
“Potter! I’m talking to you!” said Snape, and James told Lily to stay there, he
would be right back.
“Be careful!” Lily called to him as he approached Snape.
“What do you want Severus?” questioned James.
"I, uh...wanted to say thank you for what you did. Not that I needed your help or
anything. I had it all handled," said Snape.
"Yeah. You almost got me in trouble. You know that? Yo're lucky I like Lily this
much, otehrwise, you'd still be coughing up slugs," said James
"So you're dating the mudblood now?" Snape asked, and James grabbed his robes
and pulled him close to him.
"WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL HER?!" James said loudly.
Yeah, you heard right...I called her a MUDBLOOD!" said Snape, "so what are you
gonna do about it?"
Before Severus could put on a smug smile, James had put the leg-locker curse on
him and screamed "Expellarmus" and Snape's wand flew out of his hand about
twenty feet away, and James was about to use the Impediment Jinx, when Lily ran
up and grabbed his wand.
"What on earth are you doing?!" asked Lily.
James bowed his head down in embarrassment.
"He called you a you-know-what, again!" responded James.

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"So you couldn't just walk away!?" yelled Lily.
"I...I wanted to, bit I couldn't let him get away with talking about you like that! I
love you too much to hear anyone talk about you like that! I'm sorry. I shouldn't
have..." explained James.
"You're right, but you should have used these two curses..." said Lily, and then she
said "furnunculus" and Snape broke out in boils and then she said "Tarabtallegra"
and the leg-locker curse was broken, and Snape's legs started to move, but he
couldn't stop them. Lily just smiled smugly, and then she took James' hand and led
him away towards the dungeons.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
As James and Lily walked towards Herbology class, the boy from James’ dorm
room approached them.
“Hi! I just wanted to tell you two that was some great magic in front of the library.
Truly wonderful! I’m Frank Longbottom. I believe we have the same dorm room,”
said the boy as he shook James’ hand.
“Oh yeah! We do, don’t we?” said James, and then laughed heartedly, “Why don’t
you sit with us at dinner tonight?”
"Sure. It'd be my pleasure." responded Frank joyfully.
"Great!" said James.
"Isn't herbology great?" asked Lily, "It's just so useful! Of course, Defense Against
The Dark Arts is more useful..."
"Lily... don't you hate Defense Against The Dart Arts?" asked James.
"Well, it is useful! I never said I liked it." said Lily flatly.
"She's right." added Frank.

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125
Greatest
of The
Hogwarts
Four

126
127
128
 Greatest of The Hogwarts Four
Chapter1: The founders

The golden eagle owl flew through the arch-window, a letter held within its claws.
It headed towards Salazar, and dropped the brownish envelope neatly into his
hand. He turned it over. It read:

           Salazar,
           Official business of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry
      
He slipped one of his long, pale fingers under the newly set purple wax seal, the
crest of the newly founded Hogwarts. He unfolded the heavy yellow parchment
and read, with increasing interest lining his face:

     Dear Salazar, One of the four,

           Today is the opening of the largest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the
world. After several years of searching, we have decided to accept the following
pupils, whom we feel to have the potential. We are awaiting your reply and
confirmation of the list. We are also still waiting for you to take up your post as
Dark Arts teacher.
     Yours with anticipation,
                 Helga Hufflepuff
                 Godric Gryffindor
                 Rowena Ravenclaw
               
Salazar’s narrow, white eyes scanned down the list, looks of increasing anger
showing on his face. Finally, his frustration got the better of him. With a snarl of
anger, he swept up his emerald green cloak and turned towards the door, scattering
several of his owl’s feathers from the staggered bird.
   
‘Follow, Serpen,’ he muttered. He grabbed his crooked ash broomstick and flew
off into the night sky with his owl soaring effortlessly behind him. It was getting
late and the night sky was fast approaching, so the great wizard took out his
Phoenix Feather wand and muttered a short word. The wand lit up, sending a broad
beam of light in a forward’s direction, allowing him to see his destination.
   
He flew over his village, which was empty except for a few wizards working at the
inn, removing people after closing. This was the only wizarding village in the
country, and as there was no sign of muggles anywhere, magic could go unnoticed.
One of the larger estates here had a small dragon tethered in the garden.
   
It wasn’t a long journey, and very shortly, Salazar spotted the grounds of his
descent. He commanded his broom to lower near the massive, oak entrance doors.

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His owl also landed, and perched on his arm silently. He creaked open the doors
and looked around him. The hall he was in was littered with doorways and
staircases, yet he knew exactly where he was heading.
   
After several flights and passing through countless doors, he arrived at the base of
a large, ashen grey, twisted Gargoyle. The eagle owl repulsed at this sight, and
flew off on her own. The wizard let her go, for now.
   
‘I am Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of Hogwarts. I command you to
open!’ he barked.
   
The Gargoyle slid sideways, revealing a narrow passage leading upwards. He
climbed the spiral staircase until he reached the top, where he rasped on the door,
and, without waiting for a reply, he entered the small, circular office, where a large
man in a scarlet red cloak and hat sat behind a desk, in deep conversation with two
witches.
   
Salazar knew these three very well; after all, they had founded this school together.
But the feelings he now had towards them were not those of a long-time friend. He
felt hot, blood red anger seeping through his veins. They all calmly faced him.
‘Good evening to you,’ said the wizard. He stood up, and briskly walked over to
Salazar. ‘May I take it that you have a disagreement with us over something?’
   
‘I want to know the meaning of this!’ He exclaimed, thrusting the crumpled list in
his face.
   
‘That would be the list of people attending Hogwarts this coming harvest season. I
don’t understand what the problem is, it is quite simple.’ This wizard was named
Godric Gryffindor, one of the most powerful and great wizards of the time, if not
ever. He was also a magnificent warrior, and his sword was gleaming in his belt.
   
‘But some of the people here are not… not the same as us!’ Salazar had finally
reached the point he wanted to make. ‘For instance… Germane Granger… none of
her family are wizards yet she is accepted to this school! We are not here to help
these, these mudbloods! They are mistakes from the line of muggles they belong
to!’
   
‘We are not here to judge the origin of these magical children, but we are here to
help them,’ butted in a rather plump witch, Helga Hufflepuff. She wore folded
robes of a deep, canary yellow with black trim.
   
‘I concur,’ added the third member of the party, a tall, smart witch named Rowena
Ravenclaw, dressed all in blue.

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‘If you are going to base your beliefs on age old fashions Salazar, than you can
leave this school. We have no place for prejudice.’ Godric said, firmly.
   
This comment stung Salazar. He was not about to give up on the work that he had
begun almost twelve years ago, although reluctantly. ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘You can
keep your selection, as long as I have some…allowance here.’
   
‘What do you mean?’ said Rowena. She was a very pretty witch, regarded by many
as the best in the world.
   
‘I mean that I shall pick my own students, my own choices. They shall become my
subjects until they reach magical maturity. They shall become my family around
me, taught in my image.’
   
The interest of the other three founders increased here. ‘I think that that idea is
plausible, don’t you Godric?’ said Helga. ‘In fact, I think that I shall like to select
my own members as well, my own family. As you know, we are all different, and
have different skills.’
   
‘Yes, I like that idea. We all have different views over who we wish to teach, so
lets be given that allowance.’
   
With these statements from the other three, Godric had no choice. He didn’t
particularly like the idea of hand-selection, but he was willing to entertain it.
   
‘Fine,’ he said with an air of disappointment. ‘We shall scrap the list and select our
own separate students. We shall teach them in whichever way suits each one of us,
and allow them to follow in our footsteps.’ If that is a good idea, he thought
looking at Salazar.
   
With the air of someone emerging victorious in battle, Salazar turned on his heel
and headed towards the door.
   
‘And Salazar, do not try to interfere with our choices, and we shall not interfere
with yours. Are we understood?’ Godric added.
   
Without turning around, Salazar murmured an agreement and left the room, with a
slight smirk and an improved mood with him.
   
‘Now ladies,’ he heard the Wizard say. ‘How about that Quidditch match we were
talking about? Is next Tuesday fine…’ It’s been a long time in coming, but here it
is: part three.

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     Sorry if it’s a bit boring, but this part is essential!

Salazar made his way back down the castle stairs and arrived in the entrance hall.
‘First things first,’ he thought silently. ‘I shall have to establish myself at my
new… home.’
   
He stepped outside and relocated his broomstick, perched against the stony castle
walls. Also in the vicinity was his eagle owl, flying high up above. Salazar
watched with a feeling of anticipation as she swooped down low, targeting her
prey with deadly accuracy. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, and glided
towards him. As she perched herself on his arm, he spoke to her in a soft, lulling
voice:
   
‘We have a lot of work ahead of us, my dear friend. Are you up to the task?’
   
The owl nodded, her beak snapping away on the dormouse she had just acquired.
   
‘Than we will begin immediately, starting with the search for the students who are
worthy of following in my footsteps, the ones who can become true Slytherins!’
   
The ambitious wizard, who had lived a full and productive life thus far, decided
that his first selection should begin immediately, starting with the next of kin of
some of his former associates. He headed back to his meager house, situated at the
top of a small hill at the northern end of Hogsmeade. He flew over the ‘Three
Broomsticks inn’, which was currently occupied by a horde of Goblins who were
obviously up to no good refusing to leave. That will end in tears, thought Salazar.

Slytherin shook his head in disgust. He despised these part-magical creatures,

human or other. They did not have any particular status in the role of life. Not in
one group or another. Instead, they can lay claim to both, having the benefits of
two worlds. They shed the weaknesses of being a muggle, an ordinary, plain
creature and replaced them with the power of magic.

He pushed open the door of his wooden shack, and crept inside. His owl flew up
ahead of him, and entered the house through the window. As Salazar entered a
runespoor slithered over to him.
‘Where have you been, masssssster?’ it asked. ‘You left in sssssssuch a state that
we were all conssssserned.’
This magnificent beast was one of Salazar’s personal favourites. It was several feet
long, with striped black and green scales, unusual colouring, even for a runespoor.
But, the most redeeming feature of the runespoor was its multiple heads. Three of
them in fact. Salazar had acquired this creature on a journey to African forests,
while it was still a young infant. He had grown to trust it.

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Salazar did indeed have the ability to speak to and understand snakes. He never
knew how he gained his ability, as both of his parents were killed when he was but
a child. It gave him a place of importance over many wizards, and it was the reason
he was chosen for the task of founding Hogwarts.
Indeed, Salazar Slytherin was indeed the last member to be chosen of this
particular group. He still remembered the day he had been asked. He had received
a letter from a beautiful snowy owl. At first, he had not recognized it. Then he
realized that it was Godric Gryffindor’s own. The letter read:

Salazar,
     I realize that we have not spoken to each other in a long time, but I was
wondering if you would be willing to help me out in a little situation we have
occurred. Please visit as soon as you read this letter.
     Godric Gryffindor

Slytherin had indeed responded to the letter, and had set out immediately for
Godric hollow. Gryffindor was indeed waiting for him. He had invited him to join
the founding members in building a school to educate young witches and wizards.
He had noticed Salazar’s important work in the previous years and said that he
wished him to help. At first, Salazar rejected the offer. As he left, Godric told him
that he was desperate and that Salazar was his last person capable for the job.

Last person. The last. This had left him feeling like an outcast. Only asked because
they were desperate.

But this did not concern the wizard. He was still youthful, and had a bright future
ahead of him. He had made extraordinary discoveries in many fields recently and
was well known throughout the wizarding world.
He sat down at his work desk, and began his work. Who needed his comrades to
accept him? He had enough ways to keep himself busy for now…He moved along
the soggy path, slipping to and fro along the mood. The rain was beating down on
his hooded cloak. He had left his broomstick at home in Hogsmeade and decided to
apparate here instead. Little Hangleton.

As he strode towards the wooden door of the crude, stone hut, it burst open and a
man in a dull brown cloak stepped out, pointing his long thin wand straight at
Salazar’s nose.

‘Who are you?!’ the man demanded. ‘Leave us alone!’

Salazar lifted his hood and revealed his crooked face. His long, greasy hair was
splattered with the rainwater. ‘It is me, Edward, I wish to speak to you about an
important matter,’

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‘Sal- so sorry, I had no idea it was you! Please come in!’ Edward bowed low and
allowed the man to pass by him.

‘What do you wish w-‘ the man began, but he was interrupted.

‘How is your son?’ Salazar asked. It wasn’t a question.

‘Fine,’ the man replied, a look of puzzlement crossing his face. Salazar had never
spoken to his son, never seen him before, so why he would wish to ask how he was
a mystery. ‘What do you wish of him?’

‘I wish to offer him an invitation, an invitation which would change his life
forever. I daresay you heard the rumors about the new school?’

‘Y-y-yes, everyone has, but I didn’t believe a word of it!’ Edward was very wary
now.

‘Well its true. I wish to offer your son a place alongside the best four wizards and
witches in the world. He will go to Hogwarts this September, and spend a year of
his life there, learning alongside his fellows. You will receive details later.’ He
turned towards the door. ‘I bid you farewell. I shall be seeing you soon, no doubt.’

And with these words, he left, his green cloak sweeping behind him, as always.
The elderly man didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have a choice. He was numb,
half with fear of the great man who had just entered his home and gave him orders
which could affect his child’s life, and half with excitement at the prospect of his
son being one of the few chosen by Salazar Slytherin to go to Hogwarts school of
witchcraft and Wizardry.

This would make for an interesting discussion at his next stop at the Leaky
Cauldron…

As Salazar re-appeared at his house, he set about packing away his belongings for
his own imminent move to Hogwarts. Five of the six he had chosen were informed:

Steven Bulstrode
Amanda Zabini
Richard Pettigrew
Michelle Flint
Duncan Riddle

Now, there was only one left; Malfoy, Draco Malfoy…Salazar looked up at the

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massive building in front of him. Even though it was pitch-black, the outline of the
house was still visible. He shook his head. The magic used to create this place was
so obvious, yet the muggles in the nearby villages didn’t seem to notice a thing.
Useless muggles. Pathetic muggles. How Salazar hated them.
   
He rapped on the front door, a large, brass knocker in the form of a snake’s head
hung there. It slowly opened, but the creature behind the door was not who he was
expecting.
   
It was a house elf, an ugly creature wearing nothing but a cleverly folded tea towel.
Its long, protruding ears were folded over his eyes, protecting them from the rain.
   
‘Y-y-y-yes,’ it stammered. ‘H-h-h-how may I help you?’
   
‘Fetch your master for me, and be quick about it!’ he spat. He booted the house elf
so hard that it tumbled over. ‘Don’t just sit there, hurry!’ he said.
   
‘O-o-ok sir.’ it scuttled off, looking terrified.
   
Salazar invited himself into the hall of this great house. It was truly magnificent.
Only a lord could truly live like this. There were beautiful oil paintings hanging
from the walls, glistening glass chandeliers floating in mid-air, several feet above
Salazar’s head. There was also a magnificent marble staircase directly in front of
him. He noticed in particular a glass tank, full to the brim with water. It also
contained a small blue creature with long, thin arms and pointed horns. A
Grindylow. Another favourite pastime of Salazar’s was looking for fascinating
creatures like this. As he examined it closer, a deep, booming voice came from the
shadows behind him.
   
‘What can I do for you, sir?’ it said. ‘I see that you have taken a liking to my latest
acquisition.’ The figure emerged from a doorway and Salazar spun round. The
speaker had a pale, pointed face and wore an expression of deep disgust, but this
soon changed to a smile when he saw who his visitor was.
   
‘Hello again, Darius Malfoy,’ said Salazar who moved towards him and embraced
the man as a brother. ‘Its been a while, hasn’t it?’
   
‘Too long, my friend, too long. What brings you to this area? I can’t see this place
being of any natural interest to a man such as yourself, Salazar,’
   
‘I am here on business, Darius. But we shall discuss that later. We have a lot to talk
about.’
   

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So the two of them made there way past the door and through an opening in the
wall, which surely hadn’t been there before. They entered another room, this one
even more glamorous than the last. Once inside, the door they had just come
through closed behind them. It was perfectly camouflaged in the wall.
   
‘Do you like my latest… security device?’ Darius asked, noticing the direction of
Salazar’s glance. ‘The pesky ministry have been visiting once too often for my
liking. They seem to think that I have been giving the muggles too many glimpses
into the world of magic. Nonsense, I said. Why, only last week I held a Quidditch
game around the back of the house, and nobody noticed a thing. Well, the ones
who did won’t be telling!’

The two wizards shared a hearty laugh and sat down on two luxurious, black
chairs.
   
‘Made from the finest Dragon skin. Hebrideans actually. It was a nightmare getting
these unnoticed but I have my methods.’
   
‘I see you’re doing well for yourself…’ Salazar’s gazes around the room stopped
suddenly, as he focused on the single most beautiful items in the room. In the far
corner, there was a steel bar cage with a glistening sparkle behind it. Salazar got
up, and moved over to the attraction. Tethered behind the bars was a pure white
beast, with a beautiful long silver horn and a mane of the finest silver hair. It was a
unicorn. It neighed softly as it saw the visitor and turned away.
   
‘That is my favourite possession I have. It is probably worth more than this whole
house with all the furnishings.’
   
‘How did you get one of these? How can you keep it here? This is amazing!’
   
‘That is not what is important right now. You came here for a business deal, right?
Well, I’m a busy man, let’s get on with it, shall we?’
   
‘Of course, Darius,’ he didn’t want to look away from this beautiful sight. He
finally edged away and followed Darius. Wine?’ Darius asked. Salazar nodded so
the wizard clicked his fingers and almost immediately, a house elf sprung up
beside him. ‘A bottle of our finest from the cellars, and two glasses. NOW!’ the
small creature skulked off to fetch it.
   
‘Now then, Mr. Malfoy,’ Slytherin began. ‘What I have to say is secret for now, so
it must remain that way. I have come tonight to offer your son a place in the finest
school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world.
   

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‘Durmstrang?’ said Darius, hopefully.
   
‘No,’ said Slytherin, a stung look on his face. ‘Please allow me to finish. I mean
Hogwarts, here in Britain. I cannot reveal the exact location though. I’m sure
you’ll understand that. Your son will become one of the finest educated young
wizards in the world.’
   
‘I see,’ said Darius. ‘But I still have questions. For example, who will teach him
this?’
   
Salazar didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. Darius could read it in his eyes.
   
‘Well, in that case, consider it a done deal. I will need information on the deal
though, I assume that you have prepared that much?’
   
‘I have. I shall send it soon by owl. I must bid farewell now. I have to return to
Hogwarts to prepare. Until next time, my friend!’
   
And with a snap, he disappeared.

Then the house elf returned ‘your wine, Sir’s…’ It suddenly noticed that the guest
was no longer there. He hurried of before his master noticed his late return as he
knew what would happen if he did…

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CHAPTER 2: Salazar Slytherin

     It was the final day in august. The Hogwarts grounds were looking splendid,
although the lack of activity around made the founders of Hogwarts
uncomfortable. It was six months since the invitations and letters had been sent to
the students who would be attending Hogwarts next year. The first ones would be
arriving tomorrow.  Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw
were taking a well-earned break by the glistening lake, discussing their hopes for
the school’s future.
   
The lack of activity was a blessing for Salazar though. He was able to continue his
studies in his new office without disturbance. He sat there for hours, poring over
books, never ceasing in his search for his ambition to become reality. He never told
anyone his dream, his goal, as they would dismiss him and mock him without
consideration. The Slytherin master, for that was what his students were to be
called, was a keen alchemist.
   
He hadn’t always been though; his initial interest was studying and searching for
new species of fascinating magical beasts. He himself had discovered the species
of snake known as the Runespoor. He glanced at his pet, snoozing in the corner. Its
three heads all had different duties, as he found out through his studies. He had yet
to discover what they were though. It was his suspicion that two of the heads didn’t
get on with the right one. But the serpent itself refused to say anything about its
own activities.
   
Salazar had taken a pause from travelling the globe though, in order to found this
school. Whilst he was away from his creatures, he decided to learn a new trade.
Alchemy. It is long considered to be the hardest of all areas of magic. The art of
turning lead into gold.
   
But that was kid’s stuff, to Salazar. He was interested in moving a step higher. He
concerned himself with the making of the rarest substance in the world. The
philosopher’s stone. A stone that has the power to turn any metal into gold. Many
have tried to create one and failed. But Salazar was extremely close to being the
first. Just a few more weeks, he estimated, and he would become the most
powerful man in the world.
   
As the day drew on, Salazar became more and more frustrated. He just could not
remove the last obstacle in his path. There was something missing from his
creation. He stared at his colourless philosophers stone.
   
‘Masssssster,’ The Runespoor was awake. ‘Maybe you ssssshould take a ressst?
You are looking weary, and tomorrow isss an important day.’

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‘You are right, friend. I have been trying too hard. Maybe the answer will come to
me during a rest.’ He left his office and decided to wander around the castle for a
short while, before retiring. He strolled down to the lake, avoiding the dark forest
to the east side. Neither he nor the founders had explored it fully yet.
   
The Hogwarts grounds themselves were situated somewhere in the north of the
country. It was quite chilly. Salazar decided that he should return to his room in the
dungeons. He had chosen it specially, as it was far enough away from the other
founders so he could be alone. It was where all the Slytherin students would be
staying as well. He reached the area where the entrance was situated. He faced a
stonewall. ‘Pure blood’ he muttered. A door swung open, similar to the concealed
entrance at the Malfoy Mansion.
   
Inside the entrance, Salazar gazed around. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for
his students. It was a dark room, long and thin in appearance. Several greenish
lights were beaming down from above. It was his new home. He decided to have
an early night, so retired to his room, deep in the corner o the common room.
   
Tomorrow, he thought, will be the beginning of a legend…   Salazar dreamed, that
night. He was walking alongside the forest situated in the castle grounds, his
runespoor alongside him. Along the way, he met with a small group of teenage
children. They were playing with something. He edged closer, around the trees,
and paused behind the thickest tree in the nearby area. He looked up at the star
filled sky, and in particular the bright crescent moon. He then glanced down at his
runespoor, his best friend, his only friend. But, he wasn’t there. He decided to
approach the children. Now that he was closer, he could hear what they were
saying. Actually, he could here what they were chanting:
   
‘Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood…’ They were repeating the word over and over
again. The very sound filled Salazar with hatred and anger. He charged at the
children, but as he reached them, they vanished. He could now see what they were
playing with though. A runespoor. His runespoor. Staining the ground with blood,
one of its three heads, its right head, severed and battered to a pulp. Lifeless. His
best friend, his only friend.
   
He heard a sound behind him. He turned, and saw the powerful figure of Godric
Gryffindor approaching him, his magnificent sword clutched in his hand. The red
rubies at the hilt were reflecting the light from the moon. His red cloak was trailing
behind him in the wind. He reached Salazar and saw the dead runespoor. He
laughed. A deep, hearty laugh. He slowly lifted his sword, and pointed it
downwards, towards the lifeless reptile. With a mighty weight behind it, he sliced
straight through the Runespoor and into the ground. A hole appeared at the impact

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spot. It grew larger, and larger, and larger, until it consumed Salazar and he fell
down through the chasm.
   
He landed with a thump on a stone cold floor. Coughing and dusting himself off,
he rose. His eyes travelled round the room until they stopped, dead in their tracks.
Before him was an almighty statue of none other than himself. His own, stone-grey
face, his beard, his hard-set eyes. A voice spoke to him:
   
‘Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four’
   
The statue moved. From behind it something stirred…
   
     Salazar woke with a start. It was a dream. He thought he was safe. But his
runespoor. He clicked his fingers and the lamps flickered with fire. He hurried up
and over to the corner where his serpent usually slept. Only, it wasn’t asleep. It
was stained with blood, one of its heads battered to a pulp. The right one. It lay
lifeless in the tank, his best friend, his only friend…The next morning, Salazar
awoke. It took him a while to remember the details of last night. It all came rushing
back to him. The mudbloods. Gryffindor. The chamber. The statue. The voice. His
runespoor. He got up and walked over to his pet’s tank in the corner. The lamp on
the wall above it was still flaming, though it had been left on all night. He quickly
extinguished it. A trail of ash led down the wall.

The blood was still there, glowing orange. The runespoor head was still severed.
Just like in the dream, Salazar thought. Then that means, Godric, the mudbloods,
must have…. No, he was being stupid. His room in the dungeons was sealed with
magic. No one but him knew the password to the Slytherin room.
   
Holding back sobs, Salazar lifted his poor creature from the tank. He had best find
out what had happened before judging people. He carried the head and body
towards his office, just near the stone entrance to the room. He carefully laid down
the Runespoor, still treating it gently despite its death.
   
It didn’t take him long. Just at the part of the neck where the head was severed,
Salazar noticed two puncture marks. From two fangs. He checked the snakes
remaining heads. One of them was covered in blood, its jaw dyed red. The serpent
had attacked itself, killed itself.
   
But still, Salazar needed someone to blame. His hatred for the mudbloods grew.
They had killed his runespoor, how dare they. And how dare they infest his dream,
cause him pain in any way.

He decided that his runespoor deserved a good burial.

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     Salazar carried a brown sack around the edge of the forest. He wanted to stay
out of the sight of the school, and in particular, Godric Gryffindor. His ‘dream’ had
made him even more distrusting of the wizard. He found a spot of the ground
where the earth was softer so digging would not be a problem.
   
He dug in his shovel and flung the earth over his left shoulder. Grief overtook him
now, and with every scrape against the earth, his digging became more powerful.
Indeed, he did not stop for a while. When he finally came to his senses, he looked
around him. The hole he was standing in was now at least eight feet deep.
   
Then he heard it. The same voices chanting the same word, over and over:
   
‘Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood…’
   
He quickly whipped his head around the nearby area. Nothing there. Then he felt
it. The ground beneath his feet shook. He desperately reached up, trying to pull
himself out of the hole he had dug, but the whole area collapsed downwards.
   
He landed with a thump on a stone cold floor. Coughing and dusting himself off,
he rose. His eyes travelled around the room. He recognized it instantly.
   
‘The dream room…’ he muttered. But there was no statue of him. There was no
hissing voice. No living thing stirred. The dim light above him allowed him to
locate his dropped wand and levitate himself back up and away from the room. He
didn’t know what this meant, but he knew one thing. He had to keep this a secret
from Godric and the others. He uttered a few well-chosen words, and the nearby
vegetation grew out suddenly and covered the gaping whole.
   
Salazar still had more work to do, preparing for the new students. He turned on his
heel and headed back up to the castle…Salazar had already decided the areas of
magic that he would teach his students. The dark arts and potions, his strongest
areas. He had already overheard what the other teachers were going to teach.
Godric was going to teach transformations and warfare, being the warrior that he
was. Helga was to teach about the lives of magical creatures and herbology, whilst
the shrewd Rowena was to teach arithmancy and the basic spells and charms.

     As Salazar approached the castle, he heard an argument between two wizards.
They were just inside the castle entrance, in the large hall. Their voices were
echoing and surely the other founders could hear this. He chanced a look around
the corner. It was Godric Gryffindor, and an elderly man who he did not recognize.

   

141
     ‘You owe me and my family Godric! We will not let you forget that! If it
wasn’t for us, you would be out in the cold! Dragon food for all I care!’
   
     ‘I owe you nothing!’ Godric roared. ‘You cannot continue to blackmail me, I
am not afraid of you any more!’

     The man was taken aback by this. His expression changed, from one of
expectancy to one of fury. ‘You stupid, pathetic mudblood!’ he screamed. He
turned in order to leave, but Godric grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him
back around.

     ‘What did you call me?!’ Godric bellowed.

     ‘I called you a mudblood! Why, what’s wrong with that? You are one after all.
Oh I forgot, you don’t want people to know that, do you?’

     Godric pulled out his sword, and swung it at the strange wizard. He stepped
back just in time, for the gleaming monster would have removed his head. While
Godric was off balance, his adversary vanished behind his cloak. Gryffindor sank
to his knees, leaning on his sword. He had lost out. Again.

     At that very moment, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw both stepped
out from the Great hall to confront the fallen wizard, both wearing looks of
amazement at the news they had just heard.

     ‘Godric, is what that man just said true? Are you a… mudblood?’ Helga
questioned.
   
‘No,’ he growled. ‘And no one will hear about this, ok!’ It was not a request. It was
an order.

‘But, why didn’t you tell us? It’s nothing to be ashamed of, we could have kept it a
secret.’

‘Just leave me,’ said Godric ‘and prepare for the arrival of the new students.
This…lie doesn’t leave this circle.’

The other two founders walked away, and split up at the staircase, Rowena heading
up and Helga down.

When they were gone, Salazar stepped out from behind the stone pillar, and moved
towards Gryffindor, who was still on the floor. ‘Well, well, well,’ he said, a faint
trace of a smile on his face. ‘The greatest wizard in the world is nothing more than

142
a common mudblood? How can that be? At least I now know why you like them!
And why you’re willing to allow that filth into our school!’

With lightning fast reflexes, Godric jumped to his feet, pinning Salazar against the
wall, his massive sword pointed at his neck. Salazar could feel the point moving
closer and closer to his windpipe.

‘So, are you going to kill me? That would be the easy way out, wouldn’t it,
Godric? Killing an unarmed man.’

‘You have your wand. That counts as armed.’

‘But I haven’t reached for it, have I?’

‘Than I will give you five seconds to grasp that opportunity, after that, you lose.’
He released Salazar from the wall, and instantly, the shrewd Slytherin reached his
wand and used a summoning charm to steal Gryffindor’s sword. He caught it in his
left hand as it whistled threw the air.

‘Looks like the tables have turned, doesn’t it Godric? Not so brave now, are you?’
Salazar dropped the sword to the ground, out of reach of Godric, and turned
towards the corridor that led to his common room, leaving an angry wizard glaring
at his back.

He said the password at the door, and entered his room. He picked out his special
robes and hurriedly put them on. They were made of  beautiful silver chain mail,
and featured a snake emblem carved up the middle, decorated green. He picked up
his phoenix feather wand, and sheathed his handsome black sword, which was
emblazed with green emeralds.

After preparing, Salazar made his way out of the common room, back up the stairs
and into the great hall, in order to wait for the first ones…

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