Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Chapter One

The Destined Fates

A noble man so strong and bold

With the Courage that's so often told

Whose heart could warm the coldest cold

In adversities face, he would not fold

A maiden of heart kind and true

In her a friendship through and through

Here gentle song would calm and soothe

No hatred from her voice ensued

Of sharpest skill, of quickest mind

In her the tomes of knowledge finds

A place to wait till it was time

To share her knowledge in words divine

Ambition was his greatest friend

To his lust he would often tend

No compassion would he ever lend

And for this his friendships would end

They joined together in times of old

They knew what they must do

To join together in their call

United through and through

They built upon a cliff so high

A castle reaching to the sky

A place where magic would find

The chance to enter golden times

They worked together through the years

Their hearts together their bonds strong

But in one there crept hate and fear

And so this begins the end my friends

They thought that they would never be parted within the strength of their castle and kindred ship. Their hearts had risen together; their hopes and dreams the same. But soon, the rift would form that would tear through their bond.

Let it be known, those of blood impure

Have no right to learn magic here

They are not worthy to hold

The arcane gifts that we behold

It was the beginning of the end of a grand dream; his heart was set, his mind was made.

But if we deny from ones blood worth

The fate of magic will soon be cursed

But if all who come with magic's gift

The world of magic soon would lift

His anger grew; his hatred spawned; his heart was cold; his mind was set. He would leave upon the legacy he sought. And so, in secret he worked, hiding his motives from the others who he had once counted as friends. With each day, his resentment would grow.

And so one dark and storming night, there rose again a fight that threatened to tear down the castle walls. And in a rage, he did depart into the night, never to be seen again by those he had once stood so strong with.

Now as the years have come and gone; the castle remained a haven of magic in a time when those of the arts were persecuted out of fear. But within the walls, it was not right, and it lends fully to the fight long since passed. Many would walk within these halls in times when danger loomed. Little did they know that there were hidden unknown sacred lines within the castle walls. But danger came and danger passed, and never did they hear the call. But now, on the dark horizons, the call is forming, its notes rising, and unseen destinies lie hidden.

A man will rise from hatred spawned

His anger knows no bounds

A dark new day would one day dawn

Its heart will poison the ground

But one will rise from family torn

To in his destiny he will be born

To fight that man so wrongly scorned

He will rise to call the destined horns

But alone he can not do his task

For one lies hidden in name that's masked

Whose mind holds the secrets of powers unknown

That will someday be written in histories tome

There lies danger ahead, but even in the coldest of nights, it is always darkest before the dawn. The sun will rise again upon the time of fear and fighting. Hope lies in the one unknown, hidden by name untrue.

***

The sound of dripping water could be heard; it reverberated against the rough stone walls. The room was dark and foreboding, for only a faint light filled the room from an unseen source. The air was cold; mist rose from the breath of anyone who entered. They shivered, but in truth it was not the cold that made them tremble.

In the center of the room was a large block of a black shiny stone. Its polished surfaces reflected the room. It was an imposing sight to see, but it was the reflection in the top that was truly frightful.

A man sat with his fingers rapping the top of the stone table. He was sitting in a high back chair draped in black velvet. His red eyes glared at a stone wall at the end opposite his desk. His cat like pupils were shrewd and calculating; His pale face was ever more gruesome by the nose, not a humans nose but one like a snake's: flat, and, at present, the nostrils were flared. This man clearly was in a state of agitation. He was silent; the only sound was the gentle drips of the water.

"Come in Lucius," said the frightening man, with a sinister cold voice that pierced the air.

The wall at the far end of the room seemed to shiver, and from the solid wall formed a door; it was as if the wall was melting. Soon an archway had formed large enough for a person to walk through.

A man with a sneering pointed face strolled casually into the room, and faced his master unflinchingly. "Yes my lord?" Lucius asked in a sneering voice to match his face. He sank into a low bow and waited.

"Rise," said Voldemort, with a smile on his face. "I am growing tired of waiting," he said, his voice turning cold once more. "My followers have failed. I wish to know what is keeping them from fulfilling the task I have set for them."

Lucius's sneer faded as he bowed once more before Voldemort. "We apologize for our task taking longer, but we have found no leads. I have sent Pettigrew to try to discover where they are hiding, but he has not returned." Lucius bowed once more.

"I do not want to wait any longer," spat Voldemort, his voice rising. "I have waited too long, and I am disappointed in the inability of my loyal followers to do what I have asked of them. Do their loyalties wane?"

Lucius bowed, looking frightened. "I remain loyal," he said, trying to keep his voice even.

"You may go," Voldemort replied quietly.

Lucius bowed his way back out of the room and out the archway, which closed after his retreat in the corridor beyond.

Once more, the only sound was the trickle of water. He sat in silence for many minutes, his anger rising within himself at the incapability of his followers to do what he had asked of them. It had been over a year since the prophecy happened. The Potters and the Longbottoms had both long since gone into hiding. And here, many months later, in the cold autumn night, he sat in his subterranean study facing what was likely another month's work at trying to find the Potters. And yet, there was Pettigrew, a faithful servant. Or was he mistaken? Had the spy in the order turned on him? Had he decided that his loyalties lie elsewhere? The thought made Voldemort's anger stronger inside his mind. But his thoughts were soon interrupted by a sound. Someone was knocking on the other side of the stone wall where the arch had been.

"Yes?" asked Voldemort, feeling highly annoyed. "Why do you bother me? Come in!"

The doorway opened once more, and a small, timid looking man with watery black eyes entered through the door which closed shut behind him.

"You better be bringing me good news Pettigrew," Voldemort said coldly. "I will no longer tolerate failure from my subjects."

Pettigrew was shaking as he looked up into Voldemorts face. He stood, shaking in the cold, looking fearful before he sank into a trembling bow at the foot of the stone slab.

"Well?"

"I... I h-have news..." His voice faltered for a few seconds, before continuing, "T-that will make your lordship pleased." He fell silent and stood, still shaking from head to foot.

"And?" questioned Voldemort impatiently. "I do so long wish to know where you have been hiding for the past 6 months." Voldemort rested his chin on his long pale fingertips.

"The... t-the p-potters have m-made me t-there secret k-keeper," Wormtail replied timidly.

Voldemort's expression changed in an instant. His face was alight with a wicked grin as he surveyed the man before, who had stopped shaking now that his master was in a happy mood.

"When did this take place Pettigrew?" said Voldemort looking at Pettigrew with his cat like pupils.

"6 m-months a-ago," said Pettigrew in a stronger voice than before.

Voldemorts grin faded. "Why has it taken you 6 months to tell me?" Voldemort asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Pettigrew was shaking again.

"I...I thought it wise to wait... to provide face to the s-situation," said Pettigrew shaking. "I felt that it... it would.... Be wise to... to not create suspicion."

"You lie!" hissed Voldemort, his voice rising and filling the room with a menacing echo that cut through Pettigrew, who whimpered as his master's rage towered over him. "You were scared!" he shouted. "I can see it in your eyes. Your loyalty wavered!"

Voldemort's face was livid; his red eyes seemed to burn with his anger as he looked at the trembling form of wormtail. There was a long, pregnant pause.

"However," said Voldemort, his fury subsiding somewhat. "You have brought to me that which I needed most of all. Though your loyalty wavered, you have done well in the end. However," said Voldemort, his voice rising once more. "I will not tolerate it ever again. Your loyalty is to me and me alone, and you will serve that which you pledged and agreed to."

Voldemort paused once more, wondering if he should punish Pettigrew for his insolence, but chose that he would do it later; there were more important things now.

"You will take me to them, and may your loyalty be in the future ever strong, or you will face my fury!" Voldemort said, rising, towering over the short figure before him. "We will leave by the cover of night. You may go."

Pettigrew exited as the door opened once more. When it had closed in behind him, Voldemort paced the room, his mood ecstatic. He was ready to prove that there was no force stronger then him. No mere child could ever stand a chance against his might. Soon, the world would not be in doubt.

And so, he paced for hours, obsessing over his future victory until, at last, he knew it was night. He exited (the wall parted as he approached) into the corridor beyond, his footsteps echoing off the tunneled path as it twisted and turned like a snake's lair. He entered into a large, domed hall. Inlaid stone snakes twisted on the floor, while others were inlaid into the stone wall. It was lit with an unseen green light source. Upon one of the wall was a carving of a skull with a snake as a tongue. He reached out, and touched it.

The air was filled with the sounds of Apperating wizards, and he moved into the center of the room. They formed a circle around him, all waiting in silence.

"For the past 6^th months I have waited," said Voldemort, his cold sinister voice echoing off the stone dome above them. "I have waited for my deatheaters to find the Potters. And for the past 6 months you have failed miserably." A shiver ran through the gathered deatheaters. "You have disappointed me!"

Voldemort began to pace around the circle, staring into the faces of his deatheaters, who tried not to show the fear within themselves, but Voldemort knew; Voldemort always knows.

"And now you stand before me," Voldemort paused and stared around at this loyal subjects. "You all may have failed me!" Voldemort walked over to the trembling, short Peter Pettigrew. "But one has finally done what they were asked to do."

Voldemort return to the center of the circle. "He alone has found the Potters. The path is now clear and the world will learn that Lord Voldemort is the most powerful wizard of all!"

His voice echoed around him like a deathly chorus. Some of the deatheaters shivered again.

"The situation has been rectified," Voldemort said in a low, menacing voice. "You all have been saved by Pettigrew. I will expect better of all of you in the future."

And one by one, the deatheaters in procession moved forward crawling on their knees to kiss the hem of Voldemorts billowing black robes. Once the last person had moved back into place, Voldemort looked around once more.

"You will now be in no doubt as to who is more powerful," said Voldemort in a soft, dangerous voice. "I will call you at sunrise, when he is dead and our path is clear. You may leave."

One by one, the deatheaters Disappearated, leaving Voldemort alone with Pettigrew, who was trying to hide the fact that his knees where shaking as he stood, watching his master.

"Now is the time Pettigrew," Voldemort said, coldly. "You will lead me to them."

Pettigrew nodded, and moved forward towards his master.

"I will not be pleased if you fail to Apparate to the right location," warned Voldemort. "I will Apparate to your side, and if you bring me to the wrong location, you will feel the full wrath of your master."

Pettigrew gulped and disappeared with a dull pop. Voldemort vanished with a swish of his black robe.

They were standing in the shade of a large tree that lined a cobblestone road. A crumbling stone fence lined the road, and in the distance could be seen an empty lot overgrown with grass. It, too, had a stone fence in ruin with a rickety wooden gate. Pettigrew leading the way moved toward the empty lot; Voldemort's eyes narrowed in excitement as they approached

They stopped outside the old gate which was hanging limply on one rusty hinge. The wind rustled the trees around them.

"This is where the potters are," said Pettigrew in a constrained voice. "They live here in Godric's Hollow at this house."

Voldemorts pupils contracted as he watched as from the center of the grassy lot grew a door. It was as if someone had planted a house and the house was sprouting out of the ground. From the new door came walls extending out from the wooden beam threshold. Windows appeared as the house continued to grow from the ground. He watched excitedly as the walls continue to grow, and a roof lifted as if being jacked up from within. In seconds, it was over with.

"You have done well Pettigrew," said Voldemort softly.

Pettigrew whimpered as Voldemort pushed open the broken gate, which squeaked loudly into the night. From the window above the door, a face appeared from between the curtains.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" shouted James as he retreated from the window.

Pettigrew whimpered louder, but Voldemort was not paying attention, for he raised his wand to the door, and blasted it off his hinges with a blinding white light. His laughter cut through the autumn night, making Pettigrew jump.

James was standing at the base of the stairs, his wand at the ready. "You won't pass me," he said angrily.

"Oh, wont I?" said Voldemort in a mocking voice. "You jest?"

Voldemort raised his wand is a grin on his face and screamed "Avada Kadavara!"

James was dead even before he hit the ground in a flash of blinding green light. Voldemort once again laughed sinisterly as he stepped over James lifeless form, and started up the stairs. On the landing, he threw back his head, and sniffed the air as if tracking his prey. "Ah..." he said, turning to a door just off the landing.

With his wand raised, he once again blasted the door off its hinges, his red eyes gleaming in triumph as he looked upon his prey. Lily was cowering in the corner, shielding Harry from Voldemorts' gaze. Voldemort's laughter rang throughout the room, making Lily jump and move deeper into the corner.

"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please --- I will do anything!" cried Lily, tears streaming down her face as she clutched Harry to her all the more closely.

"Stand aside," Voldemort said in a menacing growl. "Stand aside, girl...Stand aside, now!" Voldemort's long fingers gripped his wand tightly, a great amount of pleasure twisting his pale face.

"Not Harry! Please, no! Take me...kill me instead!" Lily cried, still shielding Harry from Voldemort. "Not Harry! Please...have mercy...Have mercy!"

Voldemort merely grinned as he waved his wand and uttered the killing curse. Her voice was silenced in a rush of wind, and a flash of green light. She was dead, still holding Harry in her arms.

"And now," said Voldemort menacingly, as he moved forward to go in for the kill he had been longing to do for so long. "Let there be no doubt which of us is the most powerful."

He pointed his wand directly at the young boy in Lily's dead arms, gathered his breath, and shrieked "Avada Kadavara!" into the cold night air.

There was a flash of green light, the sound of Harry crying as the curse hit him, a second flash of light (a blinding red, this time), and the sound of an explosion as a scream rent the air. The force blasted the windows and obliterated the walls and roof above them. The floors shook, and many of the boards broke from the force of the explosion. Then, the clatter of a wand hitting the floor, and nothing more could be heard but Harry crying loudly. The room had been destroyed. The roof and walls had been blasted out. All that remained was the wand rolled across the floor and the child still in his mother's arms.

Below, in the garden, Pettigrew stood, horrified. He tried to gather his courage. It took quite a few minutes, but he quickly went into the house to see what had happened. As he stormed up the stairs, a black mist moved down them, but he took no notice as he struggled over the debris. Into the room, he saw Harry in the corner crying, still in his mothers arm with a cut on his forehead. His eyes flicked around, and there, on the floor, was Voldemort's wand. He grabbed it quickly and Disappearated with a pop.

***

Dumbledore had been sitting into the night in his study, deep in thought. The months of late had been growing darker, as Voldemort continued his rise to power. However, what was worrying him the most was not Voldemort, but the Potters and Longbottoms. The Order was no were near figuring out which he was after, but both had gone into hiding at Dumbledore's request. His fear was that something soon would happen; he felt it in every fiber of his being. It was many minutes until he had broke out of his deep ravine that he noticed that one of his silver instruments had sprang into life, and was emitting little puffs of purple smoke.

He rose from his seat, every step towards the spindly table was filled with growing dread. He lifted it gently from its place, returned to his seat, and set it down on his desk. Tapping the instrument with his wand, Dumbledore gazed as the purple smoke rose out of a small hole in the top. He watched as 3 purple birds rose into the air and twisted and danced around each other. "What has happened?" whispered Dumbledore to the silver instrument.

The two birds on either side of the center bird flew away, dissolving into a purple haze. The middle one remained. His worst fears confirmed. He stood quickly, and in his haste to get to the door, he knocked the instrument off his desk were it shattered into many silver fragments. He paid no attention but ran full speed, wrenching open the door and storming down the moving staircase and out into the corridor below.

As he moved through the corridors and down the flights of stairs, he made very little sound. He burst down the marble staircase, and out the doors onto the grounds.

The night was cold and calm. The moon was casting the grounds in silver relief, and in the distance was Hagrid's hut, glowing in the moonlight. He raised his wand over his head, and shot what looked like a silvery bird that streaked through the night air towards Hagrid's hut. A minute later, the loud footfalls of giant feet sounded from the distance as Hagrid ran full speed towards Dumbledore.

"You needed me?" panted Hagrid, his cross bow at his side and a quiver of arrows slung over his back.

"You need to head to Godric's Hollow," said Dumbledore quietly. "I will be awaiting for you there. Use magic if you need to."

"Godric's Hollow?" asked Hagrid, a look of dawning comprehensions coming over his bearded face. "Wha... galloping gargoyles, yeh don't mean..." Hagrid trailed off.

"I will be awaiting you, Hagrid," repeated Dumbledore, trying to sound calm and collected. "I must leave at once."

Dumbledore turned toward the gates flanked by winged boars; they glinted in the moonlight. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving Hagrid behind. The gates came nearer as he ran, and once he had passed them, and left the grounds completely, he had Disappearated with a swish of his purple robes.

Godric's Hollow was thankfully empty as he ran towards the house at the end of the cobbled street. The house was in ruins, and parts had been blasted away completely. As he ran, he could hear the sound of a baby crying, which made him run all the more faster. Though he had run a great deal of distance, he was not out of breath as he pushed open the broken gate, and ran to the front door.

He paused; James dead body was lying at the foot of the stairs slightly covered by rubble and debris. Dumbledore tried to regain his composure as he stepped over James form, and walked carefully up stairs, turning through what remained of the doorway, and across the rubble strewn floor towards the corner where Harry, still being clutched in Lily's lifeless arms, lay screaming into the night, the lightning bolt cut visible from across the room.

Gently, and very agile, Dumbledore moved across the floor, skirting the hole that had been blasted into the floor to where Harry was still crying. He lifted the child into his arms, and fell to his knees, clutching young Harry to him as he showed an uncommon sign of emotion. For so long, he tried to stay calm and collected, but as he held young boy in the rubble of the destroyed house, everything seemed to have caught up to him.

'This was the price we pay,' thought Dumbledore to himself as he cradled the young child in his arms.

He wiped his eyes with the cuff of his robe, and looked down at Harry. Harry had stopped crying, and was staring into Dumbledore's pale blue eyes.

"I could not protect you in life," he said trying to regain his composure once more. "May your mother protect you in death."

He waved his wand over Harry, and muttered a spell. A glowing blue light shined momentarily about Harry, then faded.

The sounds of giant footfalls made Dumbledore look up. Hagrid was noisily making his way up the stairs and stopped, ashen faced in the threshold of the ruined doorway. Dumbledore rose, carrying the young Harry in his arms, and handed him to Hagrid.

"You must lay low and hide until the cover of night." In the distance a golden, pink tinge on the horizon was forming. "You must take him to his aunt and uncle at number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. I will await for you there at midnight."

Dumbledore patted Hagrid gently on the arm, and made his way downstairs and left the house. He stood, staring back up at the ruin of the house, and Disappearated with another swish of his purple robes.