Princess of the Night

Princess of the Night.

Prologue

It was a clear, dark night. The purple sky was specked with shimmering stars and the trees were moving to the tune of the wind. A few grey clouds were floating over the full-moon, which was lazily looking down upon the mortal world. This very night, when everything was normal and beautiful, and nothing could ever go wrong, is where our story begins. And it begins right there, in that solitary cottage on the very spot where the river marries the forest.

This cottage, far away from the rest of the world, away from the prying eyes of the aurors and away from the foolish muggles, who couldn't recognize magic even if it danced naked in front of them, was home to the darkest wizard of all times. Yes, my dear readers, this is exactly where Voldemort "lived". I might be wrong, but this was perhaps where Voldemort spent some time with his "human". He was not a fool; he surely must have realized that he was alive only so long as he was human. No body, not even his most loyal death-eaters, knew of this place. And as it was unplottable, and as there was no life-form within about a radius of 5 miles, except for himself and Nagini, who could know?

This was the time when Voldemort was most feared. He was the most wanted wizard in the ministry. All the Aurors were in search of him. Hardly anyone spoke his name out loud. Anyone who went against him had died. And anyone who wanted some of his power joined his ranks... Voldemort - the very name froze even some the bravest of hearts! His death eaters were everywhere! Muggles were dying everywhere and muggle borns could no longer walk alone in fear of being killed or having their souls sucked out. You could trust no one...

And where would you think Voldemort was while people everywhere were looking for him, and were trying to put an end to his tyranny? In his little cottage, doing nothing. Well, not exactly. Voldemort was waiting for the next morning, when, at last, his little rat would perhaps be ready to bring him his prey... That the darkest wizard of all times had to wait to kill a small boy was surprising. But it was the truth. And Voldemort never ran away from what was true.

Voldemort had never seen this boy, who could be his potential downfall. But at this point, he was bored. He had no one around, no one to kill...

But he could do one little thing, yes. To keep himself occupied, Voldemort transfigured the rubbish in his cottage to more pleasing forms. He turned his Goblet into a miniature serpent, his couch into a stone cage... But all that was child's play! He needed to do something more difficult, something more challenging! After all, he had learnt Transfiguration under Dumbledore! Of course he had to do something more challenging!

And he thought as to what could be challenging enough to a wizard like him? He had killed so many, and he had devised so many more methods of killing! What form of transfiguration could be more challenging than experimental charms, and for the master of the dark-arts at that? And suddenly, the words of the old muggle who used to run that Orphanage came into his head... "To create is difficult, to destroy easy."

Ah! So there was the solution! He had destroyed so many lives, but hadn't created any. So, Voldemort thought about what could perhaps be the most complex of life forms. A wizard of course! And to create a witch, with all the powers that he pocessed, delicate in appearance, and young in blood... What could be more challenging? With that in mind, Voldemort took out a silver door-knob from his pocket, and concentrated on it with all his might. After a series of incantations, many bright flashes and small, strange noises, Voldemort had transformed that door-knob into a two-month old infant.

Voldemort looked at her. He picked her up and held her close to his form. He admired her; she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen! Her delicate form, her smiling face, her dark-dark brown hair, her remarkable eyes... A magical presence could be felt all around her!

Voldemort instantly knew that this girl was born to rule. And he wanted her to follow his foot-steps. She would be his "heir", the heir to the dark side. He knew she'd be brilliant when she's ready, when she's well trained... And he knew that if properly trained, this girl would be the greatest witch in the Universe! She was, at her present state, almost as powerful as Him. He had duplicated all his powers into her... All, except, his own special ability which he would never dream of sharing. He was, and will remain, the only Parselmouth in generations put together.

But he knew the girl was powerful enough even without the gift... And he knew that she'd be the winner, wherever she was and whatever she did... And he was proud of himself for what he had created... for what he had created without a single flaw...

Dad Voldemort turned his cottage into a more comfortable place to live in. He put the sleeping form of the child into a cradle. He then went out of the cottage, which held no signs that VOLDEMORT lived here. He looked up at the sky. The sun was almost up. That would mean Wormtail should perhaps be ready for him now. He would apparate to Wormtail's kennel... He would definitely come back in 2 hours... He went into the cottage one last time, kissed the child goodbye, and went over to kill Harry Potter. I'm sure all of us know what happened to Voldemort then, about how he met his downfall at the hands of the one-year-old...

But the little girl was still fast asleep due to the sleeping draught. She slept through the day, she slept through the night, and she slept through her father's downfall... She was still asleep when a broom crashed near the cottage...

A boy of about 10 was whining on the ground. He was lean and had violent red hair. His broom had obviously crashed.

'Awww! I'm hurt!!!'

'BILL! Are you alright!' A broom came whizzing down, and on it was another boy, younger, with similar hair. He was stockier than the first one...

'Are you alright?'

'My leg hurts! Aw!'

'I guess mum will be able to fix it... She's gonna be mad at us. We weren't supposed to come this far! We must be miles from home!'

'And it's all your fault! You were the one who wanted to race! How are we ever gonna get home now? I can't even ride!'

'Don't panic, we'll find a way out, okay?'

'But -'

'LOOK! There's a cottage over there! We'll go up to whoever lives there, and floo home, ok?'

'What if they're muggles, stupid? Or worse, what if they're death-eaters? Whoever lives so isolated in such a forest?'

'Well, if they're death-eaters, they won't be here, right? You know, after You-know-who died... And if they're muggles, they might have a felly - thingy that dad was talking about... We could use that to call the village...'

'Hmm... I guess you're right Charlie. Help me up, won't you?'

The two boys walked up to the cottage, and knocked. No body opened the door. They knocked again. No one was there. Charlie walked up to a window, and Bill followed. They looked inside.

'Bill - look! That's floo-powder, isn't it, Bill, isn't it?'

'Yes! Hullo? Hullo, is anybody home?'

'Hey Bill, isn't that a baby?'

'Where?'

'Look, in that cradle! She's so cute!'

'Yes... I don't think anybody else is there inside... Shall we just go in through the window?'

'Alright...'

The boys went in and waited for someone to turn up. They waited for a long time. The little girl was awake by then. They played with her for a while. It was getting dark outside...

'Bill?'

'Hmm?'

'Why isn't anyone turning up?'

'I dunno... But mum is going to be worried about us... We should be home by now...'

'I know... But we can't just leave the baby... What if something's happened to her parents? Like, like what happened to Uncle Gideon? We can't even floo back here to find out - we don't even know what this place is.'

'Yeah... you're right. I guess we should just take her with us... Mum and Dad might know what to do...'

*~*