Harry Potter and the Return of the Elder Ones

Disclaimer: I make no claim of ownership, and no copyright infringement is intended, this is a work of pure fiction designed for enjoyment not profit. All characters, settings, names, themes, and situations that Pertain to the Harry Potter Franchise belong to Warner Brothers Entertainment, Scholastic Books, and First and Foremost to the Great J.K. Rowling, without which we may never have found that green eyed, raven haired boy that we all fell in love with. (Platonically of course for all those blokes out there...)

Also, while this story is not a crossover, I will be using concepts and ideas from Christopher Paolini's Inheritance Cycle, not necessarily names, places or plots. I just want to give credit where credit is due.

Prologue

***

The light from The Mark gave the full moon an eerie tint, casting the modest townhouse in a sickly greenish glow. The shredded curtains, blowing from the broken windows, lent a haunted look to the house in the gloom of night. The only sounds that could be heard tonight were ragged, labored breaths, dark bellowing laughter, and the unmistakable sound of a small child's sobs. In front of the house were a group of men, their dark hooded cloaks casting sinister shadows across the lawn of the property. In front of the men lay three lonely broken bodies, only two of which still breathed. One was the still, lifeless body of a middle-aged woman, eyes unblinking, and a small trickle of blood falling from her slightly parted lips. Her light blue business suit was scorched, torn, and dirty as it hung from her body. One was a balding middle-aged man on his hands and knees, barely breathing, blood escaping his mouth with the occasional cough. The look in his eyes ranging between madness, grief, and unbridled anger. His throat was raw from intense screaming. He slowly got to his feet, stepping in front of his downed wife. Who was being clutched at by a small girl, her dark shoulder length hair sticking up everywhere. Her quiet, racking sobs punctuating the maddened laughter of the men congregated in front of the small family.

Through the sobs, laughter and ragged breaths raised an eerie, soulless laugh, almost a hiss. Parting like the Red Sea, the cloaked men separated. A tall, skinny, hooded figure slowly stepped among them. He stopped in front of the broken man, his long bone white hands sliding from beneath his dark robes as he raised his hands. Lifting his hood, Lord Voldemort looked upon the man and his family with maddening amusement gracing his snake like face. His red, inhuman, eyes were glowing with power. It was a while before the man found his voice.

"W-why are you doing this?" he stuttered.

Voldemort threw his head back and let loose an evil hiss of laughter. Before he brought his head back, his wand up in a blur of motion. Bringing it to bear on the man, he hissed. "Crucio!"

An inhuman scream mixed with a cacophony of laughter filled the air, drowning out the sound of the still sobbing girl. The man's withering and screaming ceased as Voldemort raised his wand from the man. To his credit he stood back up, if shakily, and stared down the Dark Lord once more.

"You are tenacious, I'll give you that. As if the fact that you are a Muggle wasn't reason enough? No... There are other reasons why you have to give up your pathetic lives. Your son, I believe that his name is Cale-."

The man dropped to his knees at the sound of his son's name. He looked up, his eyes, that of a broken man's. He spoke, cutting off Voldemort's little speech.

"W-what d-does this have t-to do with Cale?"

An audible gasp went up from the crowd of cloaked followers, one stepped forward, wand raised, and anger flashing in their eyes behind their mask. "Crucio! You dare Interrupt the Dark Lord you filthy creature! I'll-."

Over the man's screams, it was Voldemort's turn to interrupt.

"Bella! Back to your place! I shall allow him this one ill respect; call it a dying man's last gift. Let it not be said that I am not a merciful Lord." He said this last sentence to his followers, seemingly as some sick inside joke. Turning back to the man he used his wand to make the man look at him from his prone position.

"Your deaths will show Cale that he has nowhere to run and that he has no choice but to join me. He has... talents... that I need. He will join the ranks of my Death Eaters, he will serve Lord Voldemort!"

"B-but he is only a boy, he is o-only sixteen... besides, I thought the m-magical parents I talked to at C-Cale's school said you were in England, that you were their problem-." The rage emanating off of Voldemort was palpable.

"I am not a Problem, I am the solution! AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The sickly green flash illuminating all of the masked faces as it ended the man's life abruptly. Turning to his followers, Voldemort prepared to Apparate away. He stopped abruptly when he heard the rustling of fabric and turned, wand raised, fast as a wraith. There before him was the little girl that had been sobbing the whole time. He had forgotten about her when the noise of her cries had stopped somewhere in the middle of entertaining the man's morbid curiosity as to why he and his family were being tortured to death. She was standing with her fists at her sides, her chin held high in defiance. She could not have been more than nine or ten, but there she was, staring down the Dark Lord, bold as brass. Voldemort smiled at this.

"My brother will stop you! H-he has magic, he's a wizard!"

The Dark Lord chuckled as he heard her words; he stopped his pacing as he came in front of her. Bringing his wand up lazily in front of his body, the girl started to float, lying flat on her stomach some seven feet in the air in front of voldemort. Her eyes never betraying the fear blossoming in her stomach like a giant led balloon.

"Your faith in your brother's talents is endearing, however misplaced. But the truth is that he is no match for me. However his talents are unique and I will have them." The last sentence coming out as a sneer, as he abruptly dropped his wand and her with it. Her seven foot fall only brought a whimper as she slowly stood back up, the Dark Lord already turning and walking away. She spit a drop of blood from her mouth and looked defiantly at the back of Voldemort's head. As he heard her come to her feet he turned and plastered an evil smirk on his face. Turning once again, he addressed the masked woman that was hurting her father earlier.

"Bella, you know what to do."

She was already pulling her wand when he walked from the circle, the girl's screams filling the crisp night air as Voldemort Apparated away.

***

Hundreds of miles away across the Atlantic, a fifteen year old Harry Potter was wakeing from his sleep in a cold sweat. His breath was ragged and quick as he racked his brain trying to remember every grisly detail of the vision. He would need to tell Dumbledore this one.

***

A/N: Ok so here is the Prologue to my First Fan Fiction ever. While this is not a crossover fic, I will be introducing some ideas and concepts from Christopher Paolini's Inheritance Cycle, not necessarily characters, places or plots. I hope you enjoy and I will be posting the next chapter by next week.

Please review and tell me what you think!