All of This

All of This

Prologue: A Beautiful Man

    You cannot do this to him.

The sounds of small droplets of water beading gently down the large windows were faint. The deep charcoal clouds churned in the sky, threatening a great release, yearning for that climax in which they would finally be able to unleash their wrath upon the world. The air was humid, and an occasional rumble of thunder would crawl its way through it, searching. The manor stood large and threatening, not at all afraid of the increasingly darker weather conditions, but imposing, staking its superiority. Each of the many windows was dark, only lit by a rare flash of lightning, the contents of the rooms empty and lonesome. This manor had never been a home. It had always been full of people, servants and guests, with glorious fetes and garden parties on the scenic grounds surrounding the building; however the manor had never encompassed love.

This feeling; love, was not in the nature of its master; a man who held a great beauty, but who could never really feel for someone besides himself. This house had been in his family for generations, becoming steadily more and more decayed with the increasing evilness of each of its owners. It seemed incapable of being anything more than a dwelling, having held only hate and despair throughout its life. Now it was near empty. Without its barrage of fabricated inhabitants, it became empty and desolate. However, the one being left within its sprawling walls held enough evil in himself to supply this manor with the hatred it was accustomed to. This master had been by far the worst, this master, who was the only one not to abandon the manor.

The man sat alone in a spacious room lit only by a single candle. The flickering light briefly outlined the walls of books and curios stacked on the shelves. Evil things. Things that no one could know he possessed. He was wearing leather clothing and a large cloak, his fashion sense clouded by the dark glamour he enjoyed portraying. His colorless hair hung long and flat to the middle of his back, glowing in the dim room like moonlight. His silver blue eyes shone maliciously as he curled his leather gloved hands around one another, relishing in the sounds of the squeaking friction. His skin was weathered and pale after years spent away from the sun. He was a beautiful man, in somewhat of a terrifying way. Strange it seemed that such beauty could be so evil.

A photograph stood framed on the desk before him, the frame golden and carved with an intricate design of a snake wrapping around the rectangle, swallowing itself. The photograph was what the man focused on now, though, and he gave himself a trite chuckle as he studied the beings in the picture; his family.

    He is only a child!

This man would be the first to admit how beautiful his family was. They would have to be, to be a part of his blood. His eyes passed over the mother of his child, a tall, slender woman of long, blonde hair and eyes blue as the midnight sky. A passionate woman, she believed in the powers of love more than anything. In past decades, she had been his soul, as he had none. Eventually, it seemed he began to take over her soul as well. Her hair was woven into a plait in this photograph, and she smiled broadly, showing off her straight white teeth as she laughed. Natasha. He thought to himself. He hadn’t used that name for her in years, he was surprised he remembered it. He’d made her change her first name when she changed her last to his, he wanted no one to know of her unpure blood. So she became Narcissa, and the drop of veela blood in her was forgotten.

    You’ve become a monster, Lucius.

The most interesting part of this photo, was not his beautiful wife, but the young baby she held swinging in her arms. Yes, he mused, this child certainly was interesting. The boy shared his parents’ fair coloring, and took on his mother’s flaxen hair. His eyes were a gray color, like the violent gray of the sea during a storm. The baby laughed with his mother, his toothless grin lighting up the photo. A special babe this was, a powerful force. The man took out his pipe and lit it with a quick mutter, his voice hoarse and cracking. The slender tendrils of smoke wove spiraling paths through the air around his head. He would need this child, yet, he harnessed more power than could be imagined. Natasha had warned him of giving the boy too much power. Stupid woman, what could she know?

    Leave Draco alone! He is only a child! Let him live.

Of course he would have to convince the child to join him, a task that he knew would prove difficult. He had seen the boy, he knew of his powers, and how he had grown. He was a man now, however anyone would see it. Yes, he was a man, and was beginning to question his father, definitely not a good thing to be doing. Never cross a man like this man. Soon he would retrieve him, and convince him to be with him. Then they would be together, father and son, as one force. They could harness enough power together to gain everything they could ever want in the world.

    No! Take me instead of him!

If only he could find a way to make Draco follow him. The boy had begun to make his own decisions. Ones that did not include his father’s opinions. Ones that contradicted them. This would be difficult, but not impossible. He’d changed the opinions of his bitch of a mother, there would be no problem with the pup.

His memories of the days in which this photograph was taken were vague, almost forgotten. Had he ever smiled as Natasha did? Had he ever held his child and looked into those sea gray eyes and felt what only a father could? He took another inhalation from his pipe and exhaled sharply, the smoke blasting in front of him, crashing into the picture and rippling to every side. He must have been happy once. But the past was past, and he had other things on his mind. Things were going to change in his world, yes indeed. A name that had once been feared throughout now belonged to him. He understood, now, many things that he could not before, when he had been inferior.

    You are an evil man!

He knew now of his heritage, and he knew what his destiny was to be. He also knew that he held more power than his predecessor, and the thought of this made his lips curl up into a tight smile. Power beyond imagination, and there was no one who could stop him, once he grew strong enough to wield this power. Well, he mused, there was one being who could stop him, but with time he would be on his side, and together they would be unbeatable.

    No! Stop Lucius!

He began to laugh. An uncontrollable laugh at how everything had turned out just how he’d planned. He laughed at the stupidity of the man who he had once bowed to, and he laughed at the naivety of his victims. Everyone had thought him to be harmless, but not now. Now they would know all that he could do. He turned his mobile chair around, the leather chair groaning as it was spun slowly toward the back of the room.

“How many times must I tell you, Natasha, that my name is now Lord Voldemort?” he said calmly, staring at the beautiful woman lying lifeless on a table before him. Her hair was fanned beneath her, hanging off the table edges, the ends curling slightly near the floor. The table had once been a meticulously patterned white and black marble, but now the pedestal was stained with the violent violet of veela blood. The same blood that had flowed endlessly from a large wound in the center of her stomach, staining her shimmery night dress.

Lucius Malfoy, the man who was now the Lord Voldemort, stood up and walked dramatically over to her prone body. He breathed in gently, she was still beautiful, even in death. However, that did not matter. He stroked her flaxen hair gently and gazed upon her lovely complexion, one that would soon decay. It was Natasha’s fault, and he was sure she knew that. She had not wanted him to infuse Draco with the power that he could not hold himself, and so he had known when the child was born that eventually he would have to kill her. She was a strong woman, but not strong enough for him. Stupid woman, she was. Never cross a man like Lucius Malfoy.

“I forgive you, my pet. I forgive you,” he said quietly, then kissed her gently on her hard, cold lips.

    How could you do this to me?

“Yes, darling. I still love you. You shall see, once we gain enough power, you shall see how wrong you were. We shall meet again.” He stood up and blew out the single candle, leaving the room in darkness.

From the exterior of the manor, no one would be able to guess that there was a single person inside. No one would be able to guess the evilness of this manor, the dripping despair that clung to its white stone walls. No one would know that their worst fear resided within it, the man that had killed the dark lord, and consumed all the evil left in the world. The man who would take over his world, consume the innocent, and destroy all peace, simply to prove to his dead wife that she had been wrong. Such a beautiful man...