Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. If it did, I'd have a lot more money. Which would be nice. And then I could kill characters I didn't like off officially just to annoy certain people...
Warning: The rating of this fic is M, raised from the T of the previous one. There WILL be more violence, some of it described in graphic detail, and I don't want to risk anyone who shouldn't read that sort of thing reading it, nor do I want to get reported for having the wrong rating.
'And spoke the skull, as wards were sealed, that death would come to thee and thine, for power festers in the dark, and fools forget when given time," -The Final Words of Darkness
Prologue:
"Where?" Voldemort hissed, his eyes burning. "Where must I go? What must be done? Tell me!"
A hissing laugh echoed the room.
"I shall show you. Open your mind to me..."
Voldemort looked at the book somewhat apprehensively. It practically exuded a dark aura, that almost scared even him. To let it into his mind...but it would be worth it, oh yes- he thought. He would have his vengeance. They would all pay. He dropped his shields and placed his hand upon the book.
Pain lashed through his head as dark powers raped his mind, searching, finding, learning. He felt its poison touch everywhere, felt it wade through his plans of glory and pureblood supremacy without care, looking into his past.
"You have been close, yes." The book whispered in his mind. "A dark forest, to the east. In the heart of the former Darklands. Even now, the buried secret still corrupts the land, subtly, its poison seeping into the very air. They were banished, but managed to secret the tools of their return away. Go there. I will guide you."
"What is there?" Voldemort begged, his mind still reeling. "What must be done?"
More images flashed through his mind, startlingly clear, depicting what must be done.
"Very well," Voldemort whispered, and hurried off to make plans, screaming for his Death Eaters to attend him.
Harry glared at his opponent, ready, waiting for him to make even the slightest mistake. The battle had been going for over an hour, each side sustaining casualties, but neither able to completely overcome the other.
His foe was skilled...there was no denying that. It was only thanks to his skill and luck that his forces hadn't been completely vanquished. One wrong move on either side would end it. His opponent's eyes darted back and forth, searching for a weakness, an opening, anything that would help him win. They had pushed back and forth repeatedly, each of them testing the other's defenses time and time again, but the battle was drawing to a close.
His foe's hand twitched nervously as he made his move and attacked, and Harry saw his chance, and seized it.
"Checkmate," he said, grinning, as he moved his Queen into position.
"Dammit!" Ron muttered, glaring at the board in frustration. "That's not possible, you suck at chess!"
"He used to suck at chess," Ginny corrected, looking up from the book she was reading, to smile at Harry proudly.
"At least now you have a challenge Ron," Hermione added her piece.
"I don't want a challenge, I want to win!" Ron muttered under his breath.
July was half over, and the youngest Weasleys and Hermione had joined Harry at Godric's Hollow, along with Sirius and Remus.
Just then, the afore-mentioned Marauders, along with Harry's parents, entered the room, mid conversation.
"But I just don't see why we don't go after him now!" Sirius exclaimed, plopping himself down into a chair. "We know where he is."
"For the last time Sirius," Lily said, exasperated. "You heard Severus. Voldemort still has a number of Death Eaters, and the Dark Fortress is heavily warded. It would cost too much to attack."
Harry grimaced at that. Personally, he disagreed. One couldn't win a war with only defense. Unfortunately, too many people disagreed with him.
"We can't afford the losses Sirius. We'll wait, Voldemort will make his move again, Snape says he's planning something. When he does, we'll get him, and this time he won't get away. Beside's, apparently, since the attack on Hogwart's, Voldemort's...sanity has been fading. Assuming he ever had any to begin with. He'll make a mistake and when he does, we will have him," James stated decisively.
They continued along this vein for several minutes, before changing the subject towards less interesting things, and Harry stopped paying attention, instead challenging Ron to a re-match.
"What the hell are we doing out here?" Lucius asked in annoyance, as the group followed the Dark Lord through the shadowy forest.
"Silence Lucius, do not question me," Voldemort hissed, his eyes still scanning the forest as they moved, looking for something specific.
Draco Malfoy, having escaped the battle at Hogwarts and recently been Marked, hurried along behind his father, muttering to himself. Several other high-ranking Death Eaters accompanied them, including Bellatrix Lestrange.
"There!" Voldemort cried suddenly, and hurried forward, to a stone that stuck up from the ground. To the Death Eaters, it simply looked like any other stone.
Yet it wasn't, and as the Dark Lord whispered words in a long forgotten language, fed to him by the Book, it began to glow darkly, and split in two, revealing a dark stairwell, descending into the ground below.
"Lumos," the Dark Lord lit his wand, and slowly descended into the shadows.
Shrugging to themselves, his Death Eaters followed.
They descended what must have been at least 300 metres, and eventually emerged into an open space, no walls visible amidst the darkness.
"Lumos Maxima," the Dark Lord cried again, and this time a bright, shimmering ball shot from his wand to hover in the air high above them, its light finding the shining blackness of the rock walls.
They stood at the brink of an immense underground cavern, the opposite mile over a kilometer in the distance, the air stale and dry.
The ground was bare for a short space before them, then ruined walls, made of a jet black rock, could be seen, the ruins of an ancient building. More ruined buildings filled the cavern, and shadowed passageways around the edge indicated that this was just a portion of an immense underground complex, a series of caverns that stretched no one knew how far, how deep, under the forest above.
"What is this place?" Bellatrix whispered in awe, looking around.
"Darkhold," Voldemort whispered, and his voice had an echoing, eerie quality that made it obvious his words were not his own. "The Shadowed City. Centre of the Darklands, hidden beneath the earth for untold ages, awaiting the return of its masters."
"Huh?" Draco asked, confusion and an inkling of fear on his face.
Voldemort ignored him, as he began to advance into the ruins.
"Come, we must find the Necropolis."
The Death Eaters followed nervously. The very essence of this place felt...evil. Evil unlike any they had ever experienced. They could practically feel the darkness upon their skin. The shadows around them seemed to move, and they could have sworn they were being watched. Nervously, they kept their wands at the ready, eyeing the ruins as they passed.
They came to a tunnel, leading down into the shadows. An arch loomed over the tunnel entrance, a grotesque construction of black stone, carved with skulls and figures in torment. As they passed through the tunnel, they could have sworn they heard an echoing laugh, and a chill breeze blew past.
Draco Malfoy shivered as the chill breeze raised goose bumps on the back of his neck. The air has been still -lifeless. There shouldn't have been any breeze. He swallowed, his throat thick, unease growing with each step he took. His stomach was a gnawing pit, and he didn't know why, but he felt a sudden dread as he entered the tunnel. Ever fibre in his body just wanted to run screaming.
At last, the tunnel opened into another, smaller, cavern. This one was filled with only one building, but its massive ruins still stood, more so then any of the others. Great black walls stood tall, but crumbling, age and time taking its toll. But still...this building, or something within, felt like it still had a purpose. Like it was calling to them, whispering in their ears.
They entered through the shattered hole where once a mighty gate must have stood, but now only empty air remained.
More of the same black rock lay scattered upon the floor, but their eyes were drawn forward, to a raised dais in the centre of the room.
There stood a black altar, its edges a cruel effigy of death and torment, the images carved there made them all nervous. A dagger, blade and hilt black as the altar beneath it, rested upon its top.
Voldemort moved swiftly, approaching the dais, the Death Eaters following cautiously.
Voldemort practically shook with excitement as he reached for the blade, but paused just before he touched it. His hand instead traced the dark letters that were carved into the top of the altar, his mouth moving soundlessly.
"What does it say my Lord?" Lucius asked.
"The Final Words of the Darkness," Voldemort said, his eyes flickering madly. "It reads;
'And spoke the skull as wards were sealed, that death would come to thee and thine. For power festers in the dark, and fools forget when given time.'"
"What does it mean?" Asked one of the Death Eaters.
Voldemort ignored the question, reaching instead for the dagger, grasping it in his clawlike fingers.
"It means, you fool, that this is where they can be released," Voldemort hissed.
"Who are they?" Draco blurted out.
Voldemort laughed, the sound echoing through the cavern.
"Come here boy, you shall be rewarded for your recent actions," Voldemort said, his grip on the dagger tightening.
Draco swallowed nervously, fear and a sudden dreadful feeling of doom making him almost tremble, as he slowly stepped up next to the Dark Lord.
"You are being given a great...honour. You will be the key...you will open the way."
Draco's trembling increased, and he barely managed to force out a whisper. "H-how?"
"You must spill blood upon the altar," Voldemort said, handing the dagger to the quivering Draco.
"How-how much?" stuttered Draco.
"Only a drop," Voldemort whispered, but the cruel gleam in his eyes did little to assuage Draco's fear.
Draco looked to his father for help, but Lucius Malfoy looked on uncaring.
"Do it boy, do it NOW!" Voldemort yelled, and Draco jumped at the sudden noise, the blade in his hand nicking him slightly, drawing a single drop of blood.
The drop of blood, gleaming red, ran down the blade quickly, then seemed to hover for a timeless instant at the end of the blade, before falling.
The moment that single drop splashed onto the black stone of the altar, the cruel red contrasting brightly against the black stone, Draco's world dissolved in pain.
He watched as the flesh of his hand, still gripping the dagger, blackened and dissolved away, leaving only gleaming bone. The blackness spread quickly, devouring his flesh, as he collapsed upon the altar in horrendous pain as his very flesh was eaten away.
In mere moments, all that remained was a gleaming skeleton, still gripping the dagger in a death-vice.
One of the Death Eaters leapt back, horrified, and stumbled, as a stone beneath his foot moved. Looking around in shock, he called out.
"My Lord! The ruins...they are rebuilding themselves!"
The rocks strewn across the floor were indeed moving, magically lifting off the ground, reforming into the walls and ceiling of the ancient building. A screech of metal was heard, and a dark gate stood once more in the entranceway.
"Yes," Voldemort said, his eyes fixated upon a spot beyond the altar.. "Darkhold has awakened...it is rebuilding itself for them."
"For who?" Bellatrix cried out, dodging aside as a large stone shot past, almost smashing into her, before noticing her Master's stare.
Voldemort's gaze was locked upon a spot several metres behind the altar, where a dark, inky black light was quickly spreading. Around the room, more of the swirling black portals were forming.
"Them," Voldemort whispered.
A dark, shadowed figure stepped from the darkness.