|
The Dark Lord's Apprentice | ||||||
|
Category: Alternate Universe Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Intimate Sexual Situations Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 127 Summary: “The one with the power to equal The Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him. He shall rise as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal and he shall raise him as his own. For together they have the power to overcome all who face them…” Hitcount: Story Total: 54710; Chapter Total: 3724 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Flashbacks are in bold italics. Thanks for all of your reviews thus far, I'm slowly working through them all and love reading them! |
Previous Next |
|
||||
|
Dumbledore walked briskly down the picturesque avenue of Godric’s Hollow, his midnight blue cloak billowing in the cool breeze, his hand clutching tightly, anxiously, at his wand. He had heard the report from a distraught Remus Lupin just minutes previously: “HE’S KILLED THEM!” Lupin had screamed, anguish tearing at his voice. “THAT BASTARD HAS KILLED THEM!” “Killed who, Remus?” Dumbledore had asked, grasping Remus’ shoulders firmly in an effort to calm him, to get him to focus. “J-James…Lily,” Lupin had spluttered before collapsing into a chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk in his office. “How?” “P-Peter. He was the secret-keeper…he was the spy! Sirius has gone to kill him.” Dumbledore had closed his eyes firmly in an effort to control his emotions as fear gripped his heart. “What about the boy? What about Harry?” “Gone.” And so Dumbledore had left immediately for Godric’s Hollow, a mixture of fear, fury and sorrow in his heart. Those emotions were compounded as he approached the Potter’s house. The front door stood ajar, and as he walked in, he saw the lifeless body of James Potter lying at the foot of the stairs. Carefully levitating the body out of his path, he ascended the stairs and walked into baby Harry’s bedroom where he found a second lifeless body, this time of Lily Potter, her red hair splayed out in sharp contrast to her paling face. Dumbledore dragged his eyes from her corpse to the now empty crib that stood in the centre of the room. Shutting his eyes, Dumbledore felt his heart sink. Harry was gone. The prophecy had been set in motion. Albus Dumbledore looked wearily around his Hogwarts office. It was yet another night that had been sacrificed to insomnia. It had been nearly 20 years since that night, yet it still haunted him, still fresh in the memory as if it had happened only moments ago. Much had changed over that 20 year timespan. At the time, Voldemort had been at the height of his powers, yet he had lacked a powerful following. He had the support of some of the old, pure blood families for sure, but most of his support consisted of down and outs and the mentally unstable. His forces had lacked the strength and support of the Order of the Phoenix which could have matched, if not beaten Voldemort’s forces for numbers, such was the level of resistance he was facing. Everything changed after that night, however. Voldemort had killed Lily and James Potter, had taken their son Harry and had disappeared, without a trace. The wizarding world had been in shock. They had been on the brink of a devastating war, then the man that struck fear in everyone’s heart, the man so terrible people refused to call him by name…vanished. There had been no celebration, just cautious acceptance. At first no one had dared to believe he had gone, but soon, as the days moulded into weeks, and the weeks into months without any disappearing’s, murders, Dementor attacks or any atrocity to speak of, people began to live again. 17 peaceful years had passed, and Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters became nothing more than a distant memory, a bad dream of a darker past. But Dumbledore had never forgotten. He had known of the prophecy that had been uttered by Sybil Trelawney one cold winter’s night. He had known what was happening, that Voldemort hadn’t disappeared. He had merely gone into hiding-to develop, train and nurture young Harry Potter to become his Apprentice. And Dumbledore had spread his knowledge to anyone that would listen, at least he had tried to. But Fudge would hear nothing of it, nor would his predecessor, nor any of the media or the members of the wizarding public. Of course he had no proof that Voldemort had not disappeared, or had not been miraculously killed. He had no proof that this prophecy was coming true as everyone slept soundly in their beds, safe and comfortable. After all, prophecies were made all of the time, the vast majority never becoming anything more than an ornament gathering dust on a shelf in the Department of Mysteries. But Dumbledore had known. And, around three years ago, strange things had begun to happen. Two muggles that had been living in London had been found dead, with no obvious cause of death. The Muggle authorities had put it down to natural causes, but under inspection by a Wizard medical examiner it had been confirmed they had been killed by the Killing Curse. Then there had been the murder of Mundungus Fletcher of course, in Hogsmeade in broad daylight, although the Ministry had put this down to a revenge killing of a customer that Fletcher had ripped off. Dumbledore doubted a customer could get angry enough to use the Killing Curse, however. And that was just the start of it. Around ten months ago there had been a Dementor attack in Muggle London wreaking havoc among the shoppers and workers bustling along the streets. Two Muggles ended up taking their own lives under the weight of this inexplicably sudden, dark depression that had overcome them. A further two had lost their minds to despair, while four had been subjected to the Dementor’s Kiss. There had, of course, been uproar in the Wizarding community, to such an extent that Fudge, who had been the main advocator behind having the Dementors guard the Wizarding prison of Azkaban, had been forced to resign. Rufus Scrimgeour had been announced as his replacement shortly after, after Dumbledore had once again declined the position. These events had led to the re-formation of the Order of the Phoenix, its members recognising these atrocities as signs of the things to come. But Dumbledore had seen the signs earlier than most, as he often did. This time however, it was not due to his significant intelligence, but to Severus Snape. Once young Harry Potter had been kidnapped from his cot that Halloween, Dumbledore had tasked Severus with keeping tabs on the boy. Dumbledore had no hope of rescuing him, not with Voldemort keeping him so close, but he could at least be informed of what was going on. And so almost ten years ago to the day, Severus had come to him with his first report on young Harry. “I saw him for the first time today,” Severus said, taking a seat opposite Dumbledore at the desk in his office. “And?” Dumbledore asked, brushing his fingers lightly across the colourful feathers of Fawkes, his Phoenix that stood elegantly on the arm of his wing-backed chair. “He seems like an ordinary boy,” Snape remarked. “He has struck up a friendship with Lucius Malfoy’s son, Draco.” Dumbledore grimaced. “Distasteful company, to say the least.” Snape nodded. “How long shall young Harry remain on ordinary boy,” Dumbledore continued, “remains to be seen.” Snape nodded again, and a silence fell between them. Dumbledore waited patiently. He knew Severus was verging on telling him something. And then it came: “He…he has Lily’s eyes,” Severus said softly. Dumbledore’s eyes darted to Severus, filled with pity. “Thank you, Severus.” Dumbledore sighed. That had not been the last report Severus had had for him about young Harry, although it had definitely been the most pleasant. Oh yes. One specific report stood strongly in his memory. It had come around 3 years ago, on what had been Harry’s 17th birthday: “Ah Severus,” Dumbledore said contentedly. He had just spent a pleasant afternoon strolling around the Hogwarts grounds in the summer sun and was in a fine mood. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” “I’m afraid I am not here on pleasant business,” Snape replied, taking his usual seat in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Severus’ tone immediately caught Dumbledore’s attention. “What is it, Severus?” Dumbledore asked, his expression serious. “It’s Harry,” Severus said, clearly distressed. “As I have told you before, he is growing more unlike his mother by the day…” “What has happened, Severus?” Dumbledore asked, his voice grave. Severus looked into his eyes. “He’s killed someone.” Dumbledore’s heart jolted in shock and despair. Sighing, he rested his weary head in his hands. It was times like these where he truly felt his age. “Who?” “Mundungus Fletcher.” “Why?” “To my understanding, as a training exercise and a sort of initiation rolled into one.” Dumbledore nodded gravely, reigning in his emotions. “No word of this is to get to the Order, understood? Especially not Sirius and Remus.” Severus nodded. But Dumbledore had been powerless to stop them finding out eventually, finding out their best friends son, and in Sirius’ case his godson, had been turned into a cold-blooded killer at the hands of the darkest wizard the world had ever seen. The Mundungus Fletcher murder had been the first of many murders attributed to Harry, who had been awarded the nickname of ‘Scar’, due to the lightning shaped scar on his forehead, a name that struck fear into the heart of anyone that heard it. And as soon as the Ministry and the public had become aware of Voldemort’s return, Harry Potter too became a name that was never to be uttered. Dumbledore was broken out of his reverie by a knock on his office door. Frowning to himself, he glanced down at his watch. It was 4am, who would visit at such an hour? “Come in,” Dumbledore called. The door opened and Severus Snape walked in. “Sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, Albus,” Severus said, walking in and taking the seat that Dumbledore had offered to him. “I’ve just arrived back from another meeting with the Dark Lord.” “I see,” Dumbledore said. “And you have news?” “I do. The Dark Lord is mobilising his troops. Has ordered attacks on two of the major families involved in the Order of the Phoenix, the Prewitts and the Tonks.” Dumbledore nodded gravely. “Voldemort is finally showing his hand. He is waiting in the shadows no longer. We must prepare ourselves immediately. What information can you give me?” “The assaults are being coordinated by Harry Potter. He is keeping the plans close to his chest, but he trusts me implicitly. Greyback has been recruited.” Dumbledore grimaced. “Go on.” “As far as I am aware, they plan to assault the Prewitt and Tonks households simultaneously.” “When?” “In two days time.” Dumbledore frowned. “This puts us in a difficult position.” Snape nodded. “Should I write to them? Tell them to evacuate?” Dumbledore shook his head and shut his eyes. “No. If Voldemort’s forces were to attack and find both houses empty, he would know his plans had been leaked and that he would have a spy in his camp. Revealing that we do indeed have a spy, even if he does not suspect it was you, would be detrimental to our future defensive efforts.” “So what do you want to do?” Severus asked. “Leave them to die.” Dumbledore’s eyes flashed to Severus. “Hopefully it won’t have to come to that,” he replied. Silence fell as Dumbledore thought for a moment. “Contact the families,” he said. “Tell them we have reason to suspect an assault on their premises, but do not give them an exact date. Instead, tell them to prepare emergency Portkeys that would send them to The Burrow and that they are to carry these Portkeys on them at all times. This way they will have every means to escape unscathed while also avoiding tipping off Voldemort that you are our spy. He would have no reason to believe that the Portkeys are nothing more than a precaution-many families carry emergency Portkeys these days.” Snape nodded, impressed by the plan. “Is that all, Severus?” The potions master shook his head. “Someone,” Snape began, “has been appointed to kill you,” he said, bluntly. “I see,” Dumbledore said, un-phased. “And who might this person be?” “Draco Malfoy.” Dumbledore’s eyes darted to Severus. “Draco Malfoy?” he asked, surprised. “Elected by Potter himself, I believe.” “Harry Potter has given Draco Malfoy a mission to kill me?” Severus nodded. “The Malfoys have been begging Potter for a chance to redeem themselves to the Dark Lord for their past failings. Potter, it seems, has given in to their request, at great risk to himself, I might add. It will be Potter that shoulders the blame, if Draco should fail.” “If Draco should fail?” Dumbledore asked, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, his blue eyes twinkling slightly. “When.” The smile fell from Dumbledore’s face as he pulled down the sleeve of his robe to reveal a dead, blackened hand. “When,” Dumbledore repeated, more to himself than to anyone else. “How does Draco aim to achieve his goal?” Dumbledore asked finally. “He has already completed his education here at Hogwarts.” “He has been given a supply of polyjuice potion, I believe, made with the hair of a current student here.” “And where is this student?” Dumbledore asked. “He has been missing for months now, Albus. His parents were found dead a few weeks ago. They had been tortured to death.” Dumbledore sighed. “Very well, Severus. Thank you for being as informative as ever. I won’t keep you from your bed any longer. You have given me much to think about. Goodnight.” “Goodnight,” Severus said, departing with a nod. Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his wingback chair, a torrent of emotions whirling inside him. He would not be sleeping tonight. |
| Reviews 127 |
Previous Next
|
