Harry Potter and the Legacy of Slytherin

- CHAPTER ONE -

The Diary

Even with the windows curtained and boarded up, light still managed to dimly illuminate many of the rooms in the large Riddle House. The villagers of Little Hangleton had noticed this occurring every night over the past year in the old, abandoned building, but no one had attempted to investigate. The local police suppressed the numerous rumours that had floated around in the village, including those of a bizarre foreign cult, or a Mafia gang using the deserted facilities as a secret meeting place, or that a troupe of gypsies had broken in and set up camp there. The chief of police had issued statements on the local television network. His eyes were slightly unfocused and his voice bland as he emphasised that there was no evidence to cause any concern with regards to the sudden inhabitancy of the Riddle mansion, especially since the wealthy owner of Riddle House had not filed any complaints himself over the matter.

However, many residents were not convinced that the 'wealthy owner' even knew of the situation, as they had never once seen him visit the village and they certainly did not know his name. Superstitious and wary of the history surrounding the building, the villagers dwelled on the horrific memories relating to the deaths of the previous owners of the property, Tom Riddle and his parents; the cause of their deaths still a mystery. It did not help that barely two years ago, there had been another death, of that reclusive, grumpy man - the old gardener, Frank Bryce, the only person who had stayed on to maintain the place. That event had definitely unnerved the residents of Little Hangleton; he had died with the same puzzling symptoms as the Riddles, who had been murdered there more than fifty years ago. At one stage the police had even thought Bryce was the Riddles' murderer, but it now seemed that their mysterious killer was still on the loose, or maybe it was true that the house was haunted. None of those options provided either relief or assurance. Either way, no one wanted to go near that cursed place.

A few shadowed figures were thought to have been detected lurking around outside the estate, and silhouettes of people had been seen flitting across the occasional uncurtained window that year. Sometimes, faint screams or howls could be heard, coming from the direction of the building, fragments of sound carried to the village by the wind. This was all gossip and rumours of course, or so one fervently hoped, as the villagers swapped stories over drinks in the busy local pub, the Hanged Man.

The wind picked up, stirring up clouds of dirt and dust on the street outside the Hanged Man and reaching Riddle House, pressed against the walls and windows of the manor, causing thickly entwined strands of ivy to flutter and pull away from their tenacious hold on the bricks. It whistled through the trees, scattering dislodged leaves onto the broken footpath below, which was overgrown with weeds. The wind whooshed past the chipped and eroded marble sculptures that lined the footpath. It drifted under the ornate front door and coursed lazily through the corridors of the house, diffusing into what might have once been a formal dining room, with its polished, wooden, rose-coloured panelled walls and exquisite crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, which glinted in the dim candlelight. However, this room was now bare of all furniture, except for a small side table and a regal-looking chair situated at one end of the room. In this chair sat a tall, thin man, dressed in a long, black robe, which fluttered slightly as the wind brushed past him. The man had a gaunt, pale face with red slits for eyes. In his hand he held a wooden stick of some sort, made of yew and containing in its core a single tail feather from a phoenix.

*

'The Unbreakable Vow?' a cold voice asked, a hint of sarcastic amusement detectable. The owner of the voice stared down at the young blond boy grovelling in front of his chair. The boy shivered slightly. A cruel smile appeared on Lord Voldemort's face and his red eyes gleamed.

He stood up and paced slowly in front of the boy, his footsteps soundless on the richly carpeted floor of the Riddle mansion, his father's home. Voldemort inwardly grimaced, repulsion filling every part of his body as his thoughts drifted to that vile, degrading Muggle, who had the nerve to abandon his weak and idiotic mother. However, thanks to Potter, he'd cleansed himself of that foul Muggle's blood. A fleeting smirk appeared on the Dark Lord's face as he allowed himself to contemplate the deaths of that Muggle and his parents. It had been right here in this very room; he could almost hear their pleas and screams again, as he used the Cruciatus curse on them, and then killed them, one by one. He had left his filthy father for last. It was delectable, watching that Muggle's expression of horror as he was forced to look into the eyes of an almost replica of himself, his son, and ultimately, his killer. Voldemort marvelled at how simple a task it had been to modify his uncle's mind, to make him believe that he had killed those worthless Muggles. It was entertaining to witness how easily the Ministry had assumed Morfin Gaunt to be the culprit. Then again, it wasn't surprising; the Ministry had always been rather useless.

Voldemort slowly detached himself from his recollections, pleased that the room remained silent, save for the small hisses that occasionally escaped from the snake Nagini. After all these years, it was very satisfying that all his followers were still very, very fearful of their master.

Voldemort suddenly stopped pacing, towering over the boy. 'Tell me, if your mother had not disobeyed my orders and pleaded for Severus to make that Unbreakable Vow, would Albus Dumbledore now be dead?'

'My lord, I - ' the boy kneeling in front of him mumbled.

'Your stupidity has robbed me of a valuable spy not only at Hogwarts but also in the Order of the Phoenix. You have thwarted my means of gathering vital information on what those fools are up to. Do you realise the extent of your stupidity? Who am I supposed to get to infiltrate their little club now? Severus was in Dumbledore's inner circle, one of his most trusted -' Voldemort spat at the boy. '- Crucio!'

Draco Malfoy started writhing, his screams reverberating around the room. Voldemort calmly watched the boy as he was gradually reduced to whimpers, quivering on the floor with his arms wrapped childishly around his body, as if that would protect him against his master.

'Hasn't your Auntie Bellatrix been a good teacher? Are you still afraid of killing, Draco?' Voldemort asked him, his voice dangerously soft. 'All my Death Eaters need to have that ability, or else they would be completely useless to me. If you can't kill, Draco, you will not have a place within my ranks for much longer.'

'Yes, my lord,' the blond boy stammered, the implications of his master's statement all too clear.

'Let's test your abilities, shall we? Bring them in,' ordered Voldemort. Draco's face paled even further.

A moment later, Wormtail shuffled into the room, levitating three people in front of him. They were dressed in sleepwear, having been in bed when the Death Eaters had arrived at their house. The girl had been taken home early from school. Her parents had been afraid for her safety after the horrific murder of her headmaster by a teacher at her school. How ironic, Voldemort smirked.

The row of Death Eaters moved back, forming a semicircle barrier behind the two adults and the girl who were dumped by Wormtail down in front of the Dark Lord, silenced and immobilised.

'Do you recognise them, Draco?' Voldemort asked, using the Imperius to force Draco to stand and turn around to face the captives.

Not from Slytherin, Draco only vaguely recognised the girl, who was staring at Voldemort with a look of pure terror on her face.

'One disgusting little Mudblood from Gryffindor and her Muggle parents. I think we'll have some fun with them here; it'll give you some practice, Draco,' Voldemort said smoothly. 'Bella, come forward and show Draco how I expect things to be done.'

A woman bowed and moved away from the row of Death Eaters. She walked up to stand next to Draco, her heavily hooded eyes flashing a crazed look of cruelty. 'Which one first, master?' she asked in her deep, throaty voice.

'The mother, I think.'

Bellatrix Lestrange flicked her wand to free her first victim from her bonds.

'Please, free my daughter. Kill me - do anything to me, just allow Natalie to go, please!' the woman begged, crawling towards Bellatrix. 'Have mercy. Please have mercy.'

Bellatrix merely leered down at her. 'Crucio!'

The woman began to scream as she thrashed around on the floor. Voldemort was pleased to see the identical looks of anguish on the girl and her father's faces. The young Malfoy looked simply stunned.

'Enough Bella,' Voldemort commanded after the woman's shrieks had continued on for a few minutes. 'Give her a break before the next round.' Bellatrix obediently lifted her wand and the woman collapsed, twitching and trembling on the soft carpet.

'Please -' the woman gasped, her voice full of desperation.

Bellatrix made a slashing movement with her wand and the woman screamed, her body curled up in a ball in her attempt to stop the pain.

'Let Natalie go - please!' she rasped as she raised her head to look at her torturer.

'Avada Kedavra!' Bellatrix yelled, ignoring the woman's pleas. There was a flash of green light, and the woman became completely still.

Bellatrix repeated the process with the father and then moved back to where the rest of the Death Eaters stood.

'Now that Bella has demonstrated twice for you, Draco, it is your turn with the Mudblood,' Voldemort instructed, freeing the girl from her bonds.

He watched the girl attempting to back away from himself and Draco, only to be kicked or pushed back into the circle by his Death Eaters. She eventually sat still in the middle of the circle, trembling, but defiantly silent, glaring at the adolescent Death Eater with hatred. Both of her hands clutched her parents' lifeless ones.

Voldemort saw Draco slowly raise his wand at the girl, his hand shaking uncontrollably. Sweat glistened on his forehead, plastering down his sleek blond hair.

'No Chosen One to save you here,' Voldemort remarked to the girl. She remained silent. A true, idiotic Gryffindor, Voldemort thought to himself.

'A ... Avada ...' the boy stuttered, his wand hand faltering.

'AVADA KEDAVRA!' Voldemort roared and a jet of green light from his wand hit the Gryffindor, sending her sprawling on the floor.

'Get out of my sight, you weak excuse of a Death Eater. I will deal with you later,' Voldemort snarled as he turned to Draco. The boy, still shaking, stumbled out of the room.

The row of Death Eaters standing before him remained still and quiet.

'Wormtail, take these Muggles back to their home,' he hissed and the squat, rodent-featured man scurried over to levitate the bodies again. 'I don't want them to be found anywhere near here.'

There was again silence as Wormtail left the room, closing the door behind him.

'Severus,' Voldemort called softly, his voice impassive again. A tall man stepped forward from the row of Death Eaters.

'My lord,' he addressed Voldemort, prostrating before the man and kissing the hem of his long robes.

'Stand up.' Severus Snape obeyed. 'Many have doubted your loyalty and allegiance, Severus. I admit, I had too, at one stage. But now no one will doubt you - no one possibly can. You alone of all my Death Eaters have dared to dispose of Albus Dumbledore. And in this you have succeeded.'

Voldemort's red eyes glinted again as he savoured the reality of Dumbledore's pathetic demise.

'Dumbledore was foolish indeed, to have so much faith in his potions master, so much that he gave you the job you'd always desired at Hogwarts. In that one gesture, he showed me that he trusted you completely, did he not, Severus?'

'You are correct, as always, my lord,' was the silky reply.

'The old fool's greatest weakness,' Voldemort smirked, 'was to believe in the best of all those around him.' A cold laugh issued from Voldemort's lips. 'What an advantage that turned out to be.'

He turned back to Severus. 'I was not pleased with your decision to bow to Narcissa's whims, as you are now completely useless as a spy, however, even your master understands why you would rather choose to kill Dumbledore than break that vow - a disposed Dumbledore is much more useful to me than a dead Death Eater. Lord Voldemort must reward you for accomplishing this task.'

'Thank you, my lord,' the man named Severus murmured, bowing his head.

'What would you like Severus? Lord Voldemort can provide you with anything you wish for.'

'Apart from the obvious - which is to have Potter dead,' Severus answered in an uncharacteristically non-sarcastic manner, 'I would ask for Draco to be spared and his mother also. If you wish, my lord, I could aid Draco in overcoming his - problem.'

A small sob was heard from a figure standing slightly apart from the row of Death Eaters. It was instantly quelled.

Voldemort looked at the man in front of him intently, ignoring the interruption. 'You surprise me Severus, in asking a favour concerning others. This time, however, I shall grant you your request, though you know that they do not deserve it. I will give Draco another chance - his last chance. If he fails me next time, he and Narcissa will both be severely punished, and whatever you say then will not save them.'

'Thank you for your generosity, my lord,' Severus said, again bowing, his voice impassive.

'Narcissa, step forward,' Voldemort ordered after a moment's silence. The slight figure dressed in a black robe, standing separated from the Death Eaters, hesitantly moved a few steps closer to the Dark Lord as Severus merged back into his row.

'Do you have something you wish to say?' Voldemort inquired coldly.

'Thank you, my lord, for your forgiveness ... though neither Draco nor I deserve it,' she said falteringly, after kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes as Severus had done.

'No. You do not.' Voldemort raised his wand and said almost lazily, 'Crucio.' Again, shrieks filled the room.

'Lord Voldemort is merciful, is he not, Narcissa?' Voldemort asked as he released her from the Cruciatus curse.

'Yes, my lord,' Narcissa replied, her voice shaking slightly to betray her pain and fear.

'I have been meaning to talk to you for a while now, since rather regretfully, by the time I had finished punishing your husband, his mind did not seem to contain the full details of what happened with my diary, besides the fact that it was destroyed. Bella informed me that she gave it to Lucius for safekeeping, just before she went to Azkaban,' came the sudden change in topic. 'I want to know exactly how it came to be destroyed.'

'My lord, I ... Lucius did not mention anything about a diary to me,' Narcissa stammered, glancing over at her sister.

'You dare lie to Lord Voldemort?' Voldemort asked furiously, staring straight into her eyes.

'I did hear that it was used in an attempt to reopen the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts, my lord,' Narcissa replied quickly. 'Severus would know more about it than I.'

'But I am asking you, Narcissa.'

'The chamber was successfully opened again, my lord.'

'And did it work? Did Slytherin's basilisk create fear? Did it kill? Is Hogwarts in ruins? No. What exactly happened, Narcissa?'

'Apparently a ... a girl was taken into the chamber itself,' was the faint response.

'And then what?' Voldemort hissed, his voice dangerously soft again.

'She was saved and ... and the basilisk was defeated by ... ' Narcissa stopped and drew in a deep, shaky breath.

'By who? Tell me!' demanded Voldemort, his red eyes looking intently into Narcissa's pale blue ones.

'P ... Potter,' Narcissa whispered.

Voldemort's face contorted and his mouth twisted. 'And the diary? How was it destroyed?' Voldemort's voice could not conceal his extreme rage.

'The basilisk fang,' she wailed, 'my lord, I am sorry. Lucius should never have - '

'Silence!' Voldemort roared. The woman in front of him recoiled visibly. 'Get out! All of you! Out!'

Narcissa Malfoy and the Death Eaters filed out quickly and silently, not wishing to incur with any more of their Dark Lord's wrath. Severus was the last to leave.

Nagini circled around her master as he continued to stand silent. 'Ah Nagini,' he finally said, his voice tightly controlled, 'Lucius will not be spared once he is released from Azkaban. Little did he realise the importance of that diary, but he shall be punished further. I will obliterate him for what he has done.'

There was a pause, while Voldemort poured himself a goblet of deep red wine from a glass decanter on the side table.

'The famous Chosen One, the pathetic Boy Who Lived, has thwarted me again,' Voldemort growled, 'but he does not know what he really destroyed. He would never have guessed - hardly anyone has that knowledge now. Weak, idiotic, infuriating Potter -' There was an abrupt sound of glass hitting a wall and splintering, and then complete silence.

Severus Snape moved swiftly and noiselessly away from the door, where he had been listening, puzzled by Voldemort's words and actions. The scene with those Muggles had been sickening to watch and Draco had acted like a complete fool right in front of Voldemort. But why had the Dark Lord been so unsettled with the loss of a mere diary? And what was all that business about Potter? He would have to go and report this to - Severus stopped. There was no one to report to, not anymore.