Prophetic Resolution

A/N: Okay...the explanation of this story will be found in the end... Drop me a line, if you want. I don't really care much since this story is for my and my muses' (they're real people, btw) entertainment. Seriously, get through the Prologue (both of 'em,) and you'll see why I say entertainment.

Also...

ADDITIONAL NOTES/WARNING LABELS:

1. Some parts of this story may change without notice as it's still being edited (for the second time.)

2. This story is MEANT to be amusing! If it is offensive in any way or manner I apologize!

3. This story has some subjects that may be offensive

4. This story is in no way serious or meant to be taken seriously

5. I own the Strigoi-Nosferatu family (Hey, I made them up. The idea might not be, but the characters are)

6. I am American, so excuse the Americanisms that blow the setting to smithereens

7. This may be INAPPROPRIATE for the less mature or younger readers (Again the possibly offensive subjects)

8. Finally, as Mark Twain said, "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot!"

P.S.: As some of you may know, I put the warning labels because I'm always complaining that some stories need to come with them, so in order to prove I'm not a hypocrite, I put them in mine.

Prologue:

Change in the Tide

Mist gathered in the darkness. It hung over the gathered figures, casting their forms into shadowy light.

"You have betrayed me," a voice whispered. The woman stood in the center of the circle. If she felt threatened by those figures, clad in long black robes and masks, she did not show it. They pressed on her, like bloodhounds thirsting for blood, smelling it on her rapidly beating heart.

"You and your husband," he said, staring at her, "you have betrayed me. I do not forgive easily, but I will if you give me one good reason why I should."

She stood proud and tall as she said, "I cannot give you a reason for my husband's mistakes, but I can tell you - Dumbledore is dead and my son lives. That is why I did it - for my son to live."

"Then you are a fool. Do you think your son wanted your interference? I gave him the mission! You - you betrayed me by informing someone who did not know of the plan!"

"I -" she was at a loss for words. He had deceived her then. "Dumbledore is dead. Does it matter how he died!" she cried, in desperation. It was the wrong thing to say. The man nodded at his assemblage, and a man was brought forward.

"Do you care for him, my dear?" asked a deceptively silky voice that did not disguise the awfulness of neither its sound, nor the disgusting feel of dead hands touching her cheek gently, forcing her to look at him.

She turned to look at the man - her husband. He was filthy, covered in matted blood. She knew that he had resigned himself to his death. His eyes told her not to plea for life. To save their son even though it meant they would surely die.

"Tsk, tsk," said the man, "your answer comes too late. Avada Kedavra!"

The green light exploded out of the end of his wand and hit the man before she could make anything more than a muffled sound.

"Now, tell me, why did you risk everything for your son? Tell me; are you loyal to me or to your son?"

She took a breath, hoping that somewhere, her son was safe. Her son would live. She would die for it. Just like Lily Potter had died for her son, she would die for hers.

"You are my master," she said, proud that her voice did not shake, "but my son is the flesh of my flesh. I love him with a mother's love."

It was the wrong answer - any answer would have been the wrong answer, for he was in the mood to kill.

For the second time a green light flashed into the clearing and there was a thud as a body fell to the floor.

Then there was nothing except the dead bodies of two people, who would be discovered by Muggles in the morning and the sound of a child's panicked breathing.

He'd ignored his mother when she told him to wait for her back at the Manor. She'd had that look that his nanny once had when his pet dog died and she hadn't wanted to tell him that it was not coming back. Ever.

So he'd hidden here and had not made a sound as he'd watched both his mother and father die. He shivered as his clothes were dampened by the mist.

He staggered upward and with a last grief-filled look at his parents - at his mother, especially, he vowed, "I'll make them pay. I promise."

Then he turned and fled into the night, without any destination in mind, but knowing - to get revenge for his parents' deaths, he'd be declaring himself against Voldemort.

A/N: This was the very first Harry Potter fanfiction I ever posted. Actually it was the first I ever completed. I like to think that I've improved a bit, but if not... let me know what I'm still doing wrong! Oh, and for the record, since this was the first one I wrote, I didn't use chapter quotes back then. Those started with the second story, Confessions of a Drama Queen.

Citation/Disclaimer(s)/Reference:

None so far