With Honor

With Honor

Prologue

Lord Voldemort stood alone in his luxurious manor, sipping at a blood red glass of wine, and skimming over the latest Daily Prophet. These rags were always suitable for a laugh or two, always with the misleading theories about where he, the Dark Lord was 'lurking', filled with propaganda about how they managed to thwart 'Death Eater' attacks, most of which including the arrests of people the Dark Lord had never heard of. On the walls of his chambers hung amusing articles of his triumphs, some of which dating from decades ago, such as the murder of the McKinnons and Prewett brothers, to those fresh off the press, such as the news of Dumbledore's death at the hand of his loyal servants, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape.

Indeed it was true, he had been suspicious of where the loyalties of these two conflicted souls lay, but with Dumbledore's death, these suspicions were relieved. For even if they were not loyal, to whom would they go to for help now? With Dumbledore's death, there was no one to rally around.

Save the boy who was featured ever so prominently in the article pinned in the exact center of the wall.

The title read: The Boy Who Lived?

James and Lily Potter Murdered in their Home, but son, Harry Potter survives! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named vanquished?

Voldemort glared at the article.

The boy, after all these years, still lived. But not for long, if he could help it.

Harry Potter had torn his, Voldemort's soul clean from his natural body, cleansing him of the filthy muggle blood that had run through his veins as he was born anew. What the world did not know of, however, was that Lord Voldemort's soul was not that easy to vanquish.

Lord Voldemort prided himself in the fact that even should his soul somehow be wrested from his body again - unlikely, seeing as the only competent enemy he really had, in Dumbledore, was now removed, that there would be six channels from which he could rise again. They were his Horcruxes, the darkest of magicks, unknown to all but a few wizards left in this world. He had already managed to remove a great portion of these scholars. One, however, remained, and in a position to do some damage.

Old Horace Slughorn, the very man who first helped him in his understanding of Horcruxes, was positioned close enough to Harry Potter at Hogwarts to perhaps do some damage, unlikely as it was. The fat old man would probably never muster the courage to redeem himself and tell anyone though. Still, it was high time the secret of the Horcruxes died, lest someone discover the key to his immortality, and mimicked him, or worse, tried to destroy the fragments of his soul.

Lord Voldemort had made up his mind. He would, in delicious irony, use just that of what Slughorn had taught him about Horcruxes to destroy the foolish man.

"Pettigrew," Voldemort hissed in a low voice, and a small man scurried in. "Your arm."

Grimacing, the little man rolled up a grimy sleeve and held out an arm, where the Dark Mark burned jet black and clear.

Voldemort stroked it, ignoring the trembling and gasps of pain from the little man next to him.

"Narcissa Malfoy."

Almost instantly, a woman apparated to his side, bowing deeply.

"I have need of the relic I asked your husband to safeguard two decades ago."

"The relic?" the woman asked.

"My old school diary. Retrieve it at once."

The blonde woman seemed to hesitate for a moment, and Lord Voldemort felt suspicion run through him.

"My Lord, I know not where..."

He looked deep into the woman's pale eyes, and peered into her mind.

"Liar."

"My master..."

"Lucius lost the diary?"

"It was the Potter boy!" Narcissa Malfoy cried out. "When we all thought you were gone from us, he tried to carry on your noble work, he gave the diary to Arthur Weasley's daughter to open the Chamber of Secrets..."

"And did she succeed?"

"Yes," Narcissa Malfoy said timidly. "But... but..."

She crumpled, sobbing as Lord Voldemort probed her mind further.

"But twelve year old Harry Potter went into Slytherin's Chamber, defeated a basilisk, destroyed a priceless relic, saved the maiden in distress, flew out to his happy ending and in addition to that, outwitted your husband and freed your house elf."

"My Lord," Narcissa breathed. "I apologize for my husbands..."

"Silence," Lord Voldemort hissed, a sound more deadly than if he had erupted into a shout of rage, which he felt very inclined to do. "Lucius will be punished for this failure."

"My Lord..."

"Crucio."

The blonde woman's screams pierced through the mansion, the Dark Lord drank the sounds in like fine wine. So Lucius Malfoy had lost a Horcrux. No matter, he still had five more. He would collect another one, in a place he had not visited since he placed his first Horcrux. He would visit the Lake of Inferi, where the Elixir of Deepest Fear protected the fragment of his soul.

"Very well," he said, releasing her after five long minutes. The tall and regal Narcissa Malfoy trembled on the floor, whimpering. "Wormtail, look after her. I am off to collect an item of importance, and then I will deal with Lucius's failure."

His servant bowed down low, and scurried out of the room, the blonde woman levitated on to a stretcher.

Lord Voldemort swept out of the room, and with a swish of his cloak, Disapparated.

Instantly, he knew something was wrong, as he arrived in the cave - the lake was animated, Inferi flailed and shrieked anguished shrieks.

Waving his wand, the Inferi all fell, lifeless once more. He quickly pulled the small boat from the side, noticing it had been tampered with. His heart beating, he quickly made his way to the center of the lake, running to where his Horcrux was stored.

The sight of the empty basin struck the Dark Lord totally by surprise.

Miles and miles away, lying in a four-poster bed, Harry Potter woke with a start, a scream of rage ringing in his ears.