Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters are not mine. The poem "Le Poison" belongs to Charles Baudelaire.

A/N: The revised semi-preview to the sequel, Ravens Cry in Dissonance.

When the Black Veil Flutters

Bridge: May darkness bring solace to you.

One December night in the headmaster's office, Albus Dumbledore was reading a certain tattered black book he had taken from a student of his. Candlelight fell upon the page, unnecessarily accenting the discoloration of the paper. Gently he ran his fingertip over each word, hovering just far enough from the page so that he would not smear the decades old ink. How long had it been since he last beheld the handwriting of his old friend, he mused.

Were he decades younger, he might not have the courage to pick up this book, for the knowledge this book offered was far too tempting that he feared he would succumb to its lure. And now, one of his pupils was stricken by the same curiosity his old friend once possessed, the same curiosity that eventually drove his friend mad. Even though he did not believe in fate, he wondered if such a coincidence could indeed exist.

The lines on his brow deepened like cracks forming across an ancient tombstone. Grey and weary he was, his eyes downcast and his face shrivelled despite his recent recovery. On this night, he was neither the champion of light nor the headmaster of Hogwarts; he was a tired old man lost in his reminiscence.

In barely a whisper, he called out to the one who would not answer him, "Augustus, are you going to lead another down the forlorn path of destruction you once trod?"

Down in the cold, candlelit dungeon, Severus Snape was also reading a book. A small red book it was, the leather cover stained with substance only the potion master himself could recognise. Spidery words clustered together on ivory pages; sketches of potion ingredients at times interrupted the text. Slowly he leafed through the pages, not to savour his accomplishment, but to delay looking upon the sin he had committed.

At last, he came across the remnant of pages being ripped from the book. Although those missing pages had long since been destroyed, he could still recall those words that marked his arrogance and regret. Certain things ought never to be created; certain knowledge ought to remain in the dark. He had kept too many secrets for too long; perhaps it was time at last for him to receive his judgement.

After snapping the book shut, he dropped it onto the desk as though the cover burnt his hands. And by the desk he sat, clutching the mark on his arm and recalling to mind the ghosts that haunted his steps to this very day.

In one of many chambers within the Riddle House, the Dark Lord Voldemort sat on his throne by the blazing fireplace, contemplating the flame in silence. His spidery white fingers clasped around a glass goblet, which was filled with a liquid red as the sunset. Those blood red eyes of his seemed glazed as he thought about all that he had heard from his servant.

However brief it may be, that man had returned to the world of the living, a feat engineered by the heir of Lucius Malfoy. Who would have thought that what he had lost was in fact in the possession of one of his servants? Swirling the goblet in his hand, Voldemort stroked his chin with one long finger. The chess piece he had been prepared to discard might turn out to be useful after all.

Like a predator staring at a felled prey, he curled his lips into a humorless smile. "Well then, young Mr Malfoy." He raised his goblet heavenward in a mocking salute. "We shall see what you are truly capable of."

Many miles away in the open sea, the formidable Azkaban prison stood in solitude on the isle like a pillar protruded from hell. Waves crashed against the shore with little mercy, drowning out every sound but one. Within the stone tower that had borne witness to blood-soaked history, a cold, terrible laughter echoed across the empty corridor. Full of mockery and madness was the sound that it chilled the blood of every man and beast on this lonely isle.

As abruptly as it began, the laughter ceased as if someone had slit open the throat of the madman. Nevertheless, he was still alive, for he could no longer die now that the wheel of his undoing was set in motion, unable to die until he had served his purpose.

Hoarse chuckles escaped his throat before the sound transformed into words. "Draco, if you find it in yourself to seek revenge on me, then by all means." Harsh grey eyes fixated upon rusty metal and crumbling stone, but no one responded to his challenge. "By all means, kill me."

On the makeshift bed the Weasleys had kindly provided for him, Harry Potter was dreaming of a certain veil once more. Music and laughter trickled through as if a lively soiree was taking place beyond the arched threshold. When he swept the veil aside, however, an empty great hall decked in marble and moonlight greeted him. Puzzled, he peered into every dark corner, searching for a certain individual; nevertheless, he detected no sign of life.

Who am I looking for? He suddenly wondered, unable to recall a name or even a face. Why am I searching for them? Memory slipped past his grasp like quicksand. Where am I? The last thought running through his mind before the scenery corroded like acid on paper was: Why does this place look familiar?

In the next moment, he was strolling on the cobblestone street of midnight London; and yet, it was unlike the London he remembered. Gaslight lined up along the deserted street, its circular light floating in the air like countless skulls. Antiquated shops remained half-hidden in the shadow; an empty carriage stood abandoned up ahead, horses missing from the harnesses.

A pair of arms suddenly caught him from behind, holding him in place. The rational part of him knew he ought to be startled, frightened even, but his body yielded to the embrace as though he could no longer stand on his own. Ever so tenderly, his captor caressed his face and whispered into his ear, "'All that is not equal to the poison which flows from your eyes, your green eyes, lakes where my soul trembles and sees its evil side...'" [1]

Leaning on the sill of an open window in the manor-house, Draco Malfoy cast the letter onto the small round table, which held a single burning candle. A second later, the letter was engulfed in flame, leaving behind a pile of ashes soon scattered by the wind. Neither the content nor the author of the letter surprised him; he only wondered why the writer took so long in sending his regards.

After letting out a breath, he surveyed the grounds of the Malfoy estate, above which the sickle moon languished. The ephemeral glow of the moon was captured in his eyes, but it could not smooth away the frown on his brow. His chest began to burn once more, the pain reminding him of a past forgotten and an oath remembered. Gritting his teeth, he thrust his arm outwards. The candle, which became the nearest victim to his temper, was beheaded, the severed top falling into the pool of wax, its light extinguished.

At the same time, a raven materialised out of the midnight air and landed on his arm, its beady eyes staring expectantly at him. As if fearful of waking the dead, Draco said in a low voice, "Bring back the news of that accursed bloodline to me."

The raven regarded him for a moment before taking flight in a rustle of black feathers. As he watched the bird disappear into the velvet sky, he thought he could hear a whisper in the wind, a gentle whisper not unlike temptation from the devil himself.

"Will you allow me to play Mephistopheles to your Faust?"

When the black veil flutters, ravens cry in dissonance.

To be continued in Ravens Cry in Dissonance...

[1] From Charles Baudelaire's poem, "Le Poison". English translation by William Aggeler.

A/N: A snapshot of what happened to individual characters after Black Veil and before the start of Ravens.I've thrown in more hints concerning what will be (or has been) revealed in Ravens. That line from Charles Baudelaire wasn't supposed to make an appearance yet, but I figured it would not hurt to include it here.

With this, the revision to When the Black Veil Flutters is complete. Work on Ravens had come to a stall because I wanted to revise Black Veil first, which took me longer than I had anticipated. I'll start working on the revision for Ravens and possibly the new chapter next. Thank you very much for reading.