The Necromancer

The Necromancer

Prologue: Soul Snatching

By Slinky AKA Falthee

Bellatrix Lestrange approached the body slowly, staring down at the man with a raised brow. His death had been violent, as was obvious from his wounds, but somehow a small, soft smile remained on his face. He looked much younger than he had in the troubled month before, which was apparent from the muggle picture she'd seen of him. Bellatrix mocked that tiny smile with one of her own and her eyes glimmered in glee. Corpses could be so very attractive, especially if it was the forgotten shell of a tragic hero. Too bad, she didn't get to play with him before he'd died.

She reached down and touched his cheek with one long finger. It was not very cold, proof that he had not been a corpse for long. This was good. He was fresh. Perhaps. . . Perhaps, her lord could still make use of him.

"Bella," said evil himself. Lord Voldemort stepped into the dim light of the room, Wormtail scurrying behind him like the rat he was.

"My lord." Bellatrix welcomed him with perfect reverence. She stood, bowing her head slightly. "The watcher was dead when I arrived, my Dark Lord."

Voldemort looked the body over, loathing this unknowing victim. "Then we must take the information the hard way. After all, watchers--unprotected ones--are hard to find these days." He gestured toward the shadows. "Dementor, come to me."

The dark, hooded figure floated toward the body. Wormtail hid even further behind his lord. Voldemort smiled so coldly that the creature cocked its covered head in curiosity. "I have a task for you, my gluttonous servant. I have fed you so well in the past, now you must restrain yourself. Take the fleeing soul from this body but do not devour it."

"It will be done," the Dementor hissed, turning from its master.

"The soul re-remains?" Wormtail asked.

"Oh, yes," Voldemort snapped. "I have seen enough death to know that the soul struggles on a short while before leaving. Funny, that it seems so easy to lose one's soul. I should know. Though the watcher's body is destroyed, his soul must wait for the mind to die before it can move on."

"So, this man may still be of use," Bellatrix laughed. "His soul carries the answers we seek, surely! Victory is yours, my lord."

"Indeed. Souls can not lie," he answered. Voldemort looked upon the Dementor. "Give him your kiss before it is too late. Then deliver his soul to me. I shall show you where it is to be stored. We will have our answers within the hour."

The Dementor knelt down over the body to perform his dark task. Wormtail whimpered in fear, and Bellatrix shot the weak wizard a look of disgust. However, Lord Voldemort was completely absorbed in the evil creature's embrace.

"Yes," Voldemort whispered in ecstasy. "Wesley Wyndom-Pryce, you fool, you will serve me still."

Across the ocean, Harry Potter smiled wickedly in his sleep before screaming himself awake.

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