Disorder

Disorder

The sky was black as pitch, not a single star in the moonless night.

It was just the way he liked it.

But something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones.

"Wormtail ?" he snapped bitterly. No response.

"Come here NOW!" he bellowed, the silence echoing its only response. "Where are you?" growled the wizard, turning away from the window.

"Nagini?" Voldemort hissed, to his basilisk. No response.

Angrily, he threw over a table and stepped outside.

No one was there. He wasn't sure he understood. For two weeks his men had gone missing. They wouldn't show when he summoned them. Vaguely, he wondered what they were hiding.

A voice taunted him, in his head.

You want to own the world?

How do you own disorder?

Violently, Voldemort shook his head, and Apparated to Malfoy mansion. He needed answers.

The offices had not been running smoothly since Voldemort had granted Lucius Malfoy Minister of Magic.

Malfoy was quick to quick to blame, and torture anyone he felt was a threat to his Master. "Just like he should," Voldemort muttered bitterly.

But since the offices had been in Malfoy's hands, they were in total chaos. Nothing but disorder.

Seconds after his arrival, he noticed something.

Everything was gone.

The house was empty, the fireplace was clean, there were no portraits hanging. Nothing was there.

"Decided to run, have you?" A more angry and confused man (if you can call him that) Apparated back to his Headquarters trying to grasp it all.

And a voice taunted:

I don't think you trust in

My self-righteous suicide

"Harry Potter," he muttered, staring into and past the flames dancing in the hearth.

"You died all right. Along with all the Weaselys, that Mudblood Granger, and Albus ‘I’m-more-powerful-than-you-with-my-White-Magic’ Dumbledore. All in the same night no less!" Leaning back in his chair, he remembered the night.

He watched and smiled as Granger slumped to the ground, dead.

“What have you got left Potter? Nobody but me. I can give you anything you want. All you have to do is join me.”

"Never!" Harry spat.

Dumbledore looked unlike his usual calm. He watched as the green flash of Avada Kedavra hit Harry in the chest, a silent scream dying on his lips.

"There’s no hope for it, is there?" the Dark Lord mocked.

Shaking out of his reverie, he glanced outside. The clouds had parted, showing a flitter of the stars being held up in the black sky.

Where the hell where his Death Eaters? Determined to get the answer, he raced outside to the edges of the forest. Walking through the trees calmed him down a bit.

His thoughts drifted back to that night when the Wizarding world was made his.

"No," Dumbledore replied softly. “There is no hope for you. You are little more than a coward, praying on those weaker than you, killing off those who might be seen as the smallest of a threat." He paused to await Voldemort's reaction. None seemed forthcoming, so Albus continued.

"You will soon find, owning the world is much more trouble than it’s worth. All your followers will abandon you, and you will be left with nothing, except disorder."

It happened so quickly, Albus Dumbledore couldn't react.

There Voldemort stood, gloriously in the midst of pain and death, smiling triumphantly.

He had won.

Voldemort snapped out of his thoughts as he came to a clearing. In the middle, dozens of bodies lay haphazardly together.

His Death Eaters. "Get up," he barked the command. They didn't move. He recognized it then as the Sleep of Death. "Cowards. I'm better off with out you anyway," he muttered to himself. "None of you are worth the trouble."

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his beautiful basilisk, Nagini laying in the midst of the sleeping bodies and suddenly felt more betrayed than when his father had left his mother.

And the voice taunted him:

Somewhere between the

Sacred silence and sleep

Disorder, Disorder

"Dammit!" he yelled in disgust. Without thinking, he killed the sleeping bodies, one by one, till the only one left breathing was himself.

"This is ridiculous."

And the voice taunted him:

You wanted Power

You got Disorder

As he made his way back to his home, he choked on a bitter laugh.

"Hell," he thought, "Albus was right. That old Muggle-loving loon was right." Shaking his head he went inside.

And the voice that taunted him echoed over the land:

You wanted Power

You got Disorder

Your reign is Over