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A Warlock is Born Arc 1: Seed of Evil / END

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Her bare feet soundlessly steps down the old wooden staircase on her descent down to the basement.

Half-way down, warn dark wood stairs merges with smooth cobblestone. Burning torches line the dimly lit narrow hallway, the stone floor becoming slightly damp and cooler as she walks deeper. Leading to and opening up into a sizable room lined with what appears to be dungeon-like cells.

Bar's that once kept prisoners in their cramped cells and the metal manacles that bound them. Have rusted long ago. Now filled with reanimated corpses of adventurers believed buried in tombs whose treasure they searched for. As well as former wizarding scholars believed to have vanished or made discoveries they took to their unknown graves.

Many of which are present or dead, having either hunted down or lured here. To be turned into her personal Inferi after serving their purposes as experiments. Or sources of information over the decades.

Her thoughts fixed on Draco Malfoy. The boy who is now her temporary student and whom she has plans for, The boy currently rests in the manor above.

Pausing in her approach towards the slightly elevated altar in the centre of the room. Runes engraved into the blood darkened stone floor around it. bones of all previous offering's/sacrifices decorates it and the ground around it.

A large Grimoire lay atop of it.

Covered in dried flesh with a leather-like feel and has sinew as stitching. The spine of the book-lined with a skeletal bone of a literal spine. Sacrificial blade resembling a slightly curved, broken one-sided blade. The blade resembling a slender dagger with an oversized, warn handle. Connected to the base of the spine by a rusted chain.

Her thoughts brought back to Draco.

Having seen much in her time as an immortal, but never a reincarnated soul who appears to be a seer as well. Some unknown force preventing her from clearly seeing his memories, mostly snippets of a world similar to that of the Muggles. But clearly more technologically advanced.

Her initial plan was to enthral the boy's father, who had somehow managed to obtain a blood pact from. He would have been a valuable tool in finding and collecting relic's that might have aided her in finding a way to destroy the Grimoire. But after reading his son's mind, she realised that found a worthy host to take her place instead.

Wishing she had known of the locations of the Hollows before she had come across this Grimoire that rest on the altar before her. Acting as a container of great evil. Thinking of how she could have possibly control it with the power of the Elder wand or even destroy it.

'It's too late for such thoughts'

Removing her regal robe-like garb, now pooled at her feet. Her body a stark contrast with her beautiful face, resembling that of an extremely malnourished female. Merely pale skin littered with scars covering bones, akin to that of copse.

Thinking back to how this all began as she approaches the altar while muttering an incantation. The outer circle of runes lights up with a dim indigo coloured glow.

Grimacing as she reigns in her powers that flare up at the indescribable feeling of fear she feels. Hand appearing to disintegrate before it reforms. Having suffered and still continues to a certain extent, from a magical ailment developed in her childhood.

Having learnt a long time ago that she is an Obscurial. By some miracle, she had lived past the age of fifteen. Where she eventually met and befriended an older Witch, while on the run from her hunters. After having unintentionally killed a good portion of her village in a bout of uncontrollable emotional turmoil.

After learning from the witch who had used her in turn as an apprentice/servant for several years. She left on a journey of her own, to find some sort of cure for her increasingly worsening condition an increasingly volatile powers.

Purchasing and even resorting stealing relics she could not afford. To willingly becoming a vampire once she reached her mid-twenties. Although it enabled her to effectively live longer, it did nothing to rid the pain that constantly plagued her due to the parasitic life-form within her.

Having spent two lifetimes travelling, exploring and doing research for a way to rid herself of this. She met an ailing Metamorphmagus in Uganda, nearing the end of his long life. Having passed on his journal unto her after serving as his understudy.

Coming across a specific piece of lore referring to something rather peculiar. Something the Metamorphmagus came across in his younger years. An undocumented slaughter in Japan in the middle of the Muromachi Period. The wizard having sensed it had something to do with Dark Magic despite the fact it looked like a bloody battle had taken place.

Journeying to the village depicted in his notes, where a Shinto shrine was built on the ground where the said settlement once stood. Hunting for clues and tracking down this source of power, with only bits of native lore from barely salvageable scrolls and near-forgotten folktales to guide her. Having tracked the book down to a magically hidden, small island. To tomb built on the shell of a dead, giant lion turtle overgrown with flora.

Finding a book which served as a prison for an evil entity, although she did not know it at that time. Her arrogance at being a powerful and possibly one of the most skilled magic users at that time, had her believe she could control it.

For some reason her true age started to show, vampirism becoming uncontrollable to the point her maddening appetite sparked bloody massacres. Out of desperation, she delved into the book, granting her power in exchange for souls sacrificed. Eventually trading her own for true immortality.

What followed was some of the best years she had had in her immortal life.

But as time moved on she found herself wasting away. Learning that if she had not sacrificed others to sustain her. Her beauty, power and her emotions would eventually fade. Her corrupted soul tainting and revelling in the suffering of others. After a long many years becoming a hollow existence. Watching her loved ones, her bloodline die before her eyes. Forced to slay her own children, who were born horrid abominations.

No longer able to experience the world she now feels trapped in. Unable to die as she listlessly watches time pass by with a near unbearable envy towards mortals. Desperately yearning for the apocalypse to end everything.

Brought back out of past memories as she stands before the Grimoire.

Certain Draco would be the perfect one to carry on this burden of this curse. Any guilt felt over her trading him for her salvation having long disappeared with any emotion she once had. Aside from the lingering anguish and despair that still somehow haunts her, longing to join her loved ones in the afterlife. Desperate to feel once again.

'He is not ready, not yet.' Hesitantly… she reaches out. Opening the Grimoire.

Runes move on and under the skin parchment, like insects under flesh. Forming a cryptic illustration of a ritual sacrifice.

Writhing in my seat, having begged for her to put me out of my misery. More times than I can recall. My last and only escape attempt thwarted. Having decided that I'd rather die in the frozen wilderness than suffer through another second of whatever the fuck this has turned into.

Feeling her presence retreat from my mind, already I struggle to rearrange my mental defences in preparation for my mind to be raped once again. Gasping as if I had been drowning and finally came up for air, leaning back into my seat as ready as I can be.

Looking up at her expressionless face in question after feeling nothing from her for a while. Knowing by now that the longer the time between these 'lessons', the more painful the next one will be. Flinching as she moves, retrieving a folded note from her sleeve. Placing an illustration of a rather complex runic array on a piece of parchment before me. At the sight of its rather odd design, rather complex but I recognise a few runes to do with offerings and binding rituals. Giving me a deep feeling unease.

"Come with me." Speaking a simple command as she leads the way and patiently waits for me to get my bearings.

Staggering to my feet I obediently follow her through the manor. Empty home now filled with the sound of muffled winds raging outside and the creaking of the floorboards I step on.

Approaching and passing through what looks like a cellar door as we walk into the kitchen area. Following her hesitantly down into the dark stairway. Noting that it lights up near the bottom, forming a narrow corridor lined with torches. Similar to a dungeon out of some of those old school RPG games I use to play.

'What's that smell, Incense?'. A thick perfumed scent tickles my nose.

In a few breath's I feel light-headed. My senses addled by the time we reach the end of the cobblestoned hallway. I entre some sort of room, shuffling uncomfortably when realising we're surrounded by what appears to be a group of Inferi.

Blinking my eyes only to see nothing but a large, rather unique looking book resting atop an altar decorated with bones. Releasing a relieved breath I wasn't aware I was holding in.

'Well, this isn't creepy in the slightest.' absently taking my wand handed to me by my teacher. Feeling slightly less on edge at the familiar feel of my wand in my palm. Running my fingers over the coiling dragon accessory.

Making eye contact with my teacher passing on a wordless command. I get to work on carving the runes into the cobble floor. Entering into a trance-like state. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel at ease, relaxed.

After what feels like mere moments. I'm kneeling in the circle of glowing runes. My teacher's voice fill's the dungeon-like room as she chants in Latin.

"AAAH!, What-the-hell!?", Frantically gripping the blade hovering with its sharp tip mere inches away from my chest. Linked to the book that lay before my teacher, by a rusty chain. An ungodly inhumane howl fills the room, then hushed sinister buttering of disembodied voices soon fills my ears.

My teacher's chant's increasing in volume. The ground starts trembling as if an earthquake had suddenly started out of nowhere. A mass of soft silvery light emerges from the creepy looking book. Hovering above my teacher before morphing into an identical, albeit ethereal full-bodied image of her.

Despair gripping my heart that's seemingly about to be pierced. The tip of the blade breaks my skin, hissing in pained exertion as I try to prevent it from doing serious harm. My inability to move from my kneeling position has me crying out in hysteric desperation as it's forced deeper by an invisible force. Cutting into my flesh as my grip around it tightens.

Her chanting becoming even more frantic. Until the incantation reaches its end.

"Don'yoku, Munus offero vas!" the words reverberate through the air.

The earthquake-like tremors stop, then an oddly serene silence settles. The ethereal spirit or whatever the hell it is. Mimicking the appearance of my teacher turns towards me and regards me with what seems like an expression of sadness.

"Destroy the book, destroy Don'yoku, find away, you must..." Her voice almost alien when filled with emotion. Before fading away.

Her physical body goes slack, hunching as she falls to her knees. The lifeless look in her eyes similar to that of my past-selves put to death whenever using the time turner. Her corpse rapidly ageing, deteriorating till only dust and brittle dried out pieces of bone remain in the pile.

A fist-sized, swirling dark mass of smoke and ash rises from her remains. Pulsing with dim flashes of red/gold-yellow at its centre, akin to a heartbeat. Moving as if it were alive and in a sudden motion latches onto the book.

"Aaah!, Shiiiit!.Gnnnrrgh!" Voicing my pain as the blade continues to force its way deeper into my chest.

Feeling it slowly pierce my flesh along with the slick sound of my bloodied hands being cut to the bone, desperately gripping onto it. Noting the book seemingly dissolving as the mass only grows. Working its way along the rusted chain towards me. Passing the circle of glowing runes.

Letting out a gargled gasp as my chest is pierced. One hand preventing it from doing so fully, while my other fails to reach and grasp my wand off to my side.

Paralyzed with horror at the sight of the now humanoid shadowy figure before me. The dark mass gaining two abyssal black eyes with flaming red slits. Feeling as if I'm gazing into the pits of Hell itself. Unable to do anything but kneel helplessly before it, as it looms over me. It forms a clawed hand that gently reaches for my own still gripping the blade. Its touch like blazing burning fire, gritting my teeth as its touch burns like nothing I've experienced before.

Placing my trembling hand on the pummel. As if guiding it to forcefully push the blade fully into my chest with its hand on mine. A black mark starts to spread from the blade lodged in my chest. The entity gripping my mouth, painfully forcing it to open even wider.

Feeling my jaw dislocate as it forcefully enters my body through my mouth in some sort of gaseous form. To describe it, it's like choking on burning hot shards of glass forced down my throat. Convinced that I might truly be in Hell. As I fall to the cold cobble floor.

Writhing in agony, unable to bear it I fall into to a deep dreamless sleep.

V

Lucius arrives at the home of Draco's tutor. Where his son had been staying for the past month. Having spent most of his time in Bulgaria with his Veela mistresses, rather than put up with Narcissa. Whose foul mood had not changed in the slightest since leaving their son here in the Oymyakon wilderness.

Bracing himself at the sudden gust of gale-force like winds nearly tossing the carriage upside down. Gazing outside of the window, seeing a mass of rising steam along with flashes of blue light from within it.

Instructing Draco's house-elf Grim, to put the carriage down near the edge of whatever it is going on down there.

Lucius stepping out of his carriage with his wand drawn. The steam forming a thick veil he can't see through.

"Meteolojinx Recanto" casting a spell that clears up this weather effect. Having undoubtedly been caused by some incantation of sorts. Steadily, it clears and like drawn curtains of a show reveals something rather surprising.

"D-Draco?" He mutters in disbelief. Seeing his son standing there motionlessly in the snow. In front of the burning manor. A large featureless figure made of blue Friendfyre destroying the holding, crashing and slamming into it chunks of the now destroyed home incinerated into nothing.

Draco turn's towards him. Lucius gasping in shock at the sight of his son. His eyes a pearly white colour, usually a sign of someone being bewitched.

'No, this is different.' Lucius observes, hesitant in approaching Draco who stares at him with an unnerving unfeeling gaze.

The swirling volatile mass of Fiendfyre dying down in the background as it destroys the last vestiges of the Manor. Leaving only a charred indent in the melting snow.

Lucius steadily approaching his son. Before he can place his foot on the snow slushed ground when he is hit by an invisible force that sends him sprawling backwards. Hitting the muddy floor with his back first. Suddenly Lucius feels as if he is overcome with a sense of severe fatigue. Too weak to even move, he feels his mind being invaded.

Slithering past his mental defences as if his mind is had been flooded and filled with a foreign presence. Unable to expel the force from his own mind as he lay there helplessly.

Seeing his son standing there above him. Staring down at him with those haunting eye's portraying nothing but pure malice. Having seen it in the eyes of his victims in his younger years of being a Death Eater. Whenever killing their significant other before their eyes. Having found sadistic amusement in the notion. But now, with his own son pointing his wand down at him. Having some semblance of the terror his victims experienced at his hand.

"No Draco!." Gasping awake. Cold sweat on his forehead as his hyperventilated breathing calming somewhat.

Confused as he is no longer in the snowy wilderness. But in his home, resting on the lounger in his study before the fireplace. Feeling lethargic he gets up. Moving to his desk off to the side and pouring himself a stiff drink. Wracking his mind over what had transpired.

'Impossible…'. Lucius thinks as he recalls memories he has no recollection of experiencing.

Moving on unsteady legs, he makes his way out of the study only to see Draco seated in the library across the room. Hesitating as he gets flashes of his son standing over him, gazing down at him as he pitifully begs for mercy, ready to end his life.

Composing himself. Taking a calming breath and raking his gloved hand through his long hair, Lucius makes his way over to his son.

"Good day father," Draco replies as he acknowledges him, noticing a difference in his son but can't seem to place it.

'He's quite tall for his age, features more regal than I recall.' Realising he has been neglecting his son or wonder's if some growth spurt occurred during his time away.

"Son." Lucius nods in greeting before enquiring as to what exactly happened, from when he went to go and fetch him till now. Feeling an odd sense of unease. He keeps his distance from his son.

Draco regarding him with a confused stare. Then regaling to him what had occurred since he came to bring him back home. That his tutor had blown up his manor in a freak accident while experimenting with a hallucinogenic drug.

'Oh, that explains the disturbing visions.' Lucius reasons.

Lucius then told that he made Draco promise not to tell his mother and bribed/gifted him with a few hundred Galleons as a belated birthday present and reward for outperforming his peers at school.

Brushing it off as a fortunate turn of events. Only thing worth concern is that nothing had happened to his son.

'Merlin knows what hell Narcissa will bring upon me.' However, he soon finds himself distracted as a message from the Ministry arrives. Inviting him to an event.

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