The Beginning of the End

Prologue.

A figure appeared in the darkness. It looked like a man, but at the same time, did not look like a man. It was wearing a cloak of the darkest black and if it weren't for the fact it was walking, nobody would have guessed it was there. Its hood successfully covered the figure's face, but could not hide the revolting smell emitting from it. It smelled of the dead.

The figure suddenly raised its wand into the sky.

"Lumos."

Immediately, the darkness faded into oblivion. Instead of a small beam of light from the wand, there was a bright ball seemingly made out of fire at the end of the wand. And in that instant, everything was revealed.

The figure lowered its hood to reveal a man that was not a man. He had all the body parts of a human, yes, but his face was not that of any human. He had a horribly disfigured face; it looked as though it has been burnt many times over before someone decided to replace the nose with two slits for nostrils and the man's eyes were stretched out so that they resembled snake eyes. Even the color of the eyes were not normal. They were a dark green with yellow pupils that were blank and hypnotizing all at once.

Behind the man, millions of other cloaked figures were revealed. They were men, women, and teenagers of all nationalities, shapes, and sizes. The only things similar about all of the people were that they each held up a wand in one of their hands, they were all wearing the same bottomless black, and if they pushed up their left sleeves, a skull entwined with python, known as the Dark Mark, would be found.

"My dear Death Eaters, I am proud to see you all here with me this lovely night," Voldemort announced, his split tongue flicking in and out of his open mouth. "Tonight is the night where everything will change. We no longer have to hide from anyone any longer. Although I wish you were all faithful with me during my...recuperation, you shall all be forgiven, -if- this night goes as planned."

Nobody dared to say anything, much less breathe. Their eyes were on the man in the front of them.

"We will be feared once again," the man continued, "and we will not loose the power this time. However, we cannot start big. I had tried to kill Harry Potter three years ago, but my plan failed. We shall start bottom up." A wicked gleam appeared in the man's eyes. "We shall start, my friends, with Muggles."

The chilly silence was replaced with malicious shouts and vulgar words.

And in the safety of their homes, the magical and Muggle communities were sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the events that were to unfold in a few hours.

Chapter One: Total Chaos

Six hooded figures stood in front of a freshly mowed lawn and their eyes quickly scanned the premises. It was late at night and nothing in its right mind would still be out, but they weren't willing to take any chances. To their relief, not even a stray dog was venturing out tonight. It was the perfect night for death. Suddenly, they each apparated inside of a house.

And pandemonium ensued. Lights flickered on, security alarms went off, guns were fired, screams were heard, and then, there was nothing but silence.

The hooded figures apparated back onto the streets, a satanic smile on each of their faces and blood staining their black robes.

First task of the night, accomplished.

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Lucius Malfoy gazed at the three-story house before him. He smirked. Even though he was on the dark side, it didn't mean he couldn't appreciate an aesthetic building such as this. Who cares if it was made by Muggles or not? He certainly didn't. It was beautiful and that was all that mattered.

It was clearly built in the Victorian style, there was no mistaking it. The lawn was also outlined with flowers of every kind and circular stone steps led to the stairs. The soft brown stairs led to the front door without any curves or turns. The door itself was quite plain and a tan color, but that was the only thing plain about the house. Its sides were rounded in order to achieve a dollhouse-like look while the gray roofs were coned-shaped. Between the two rounded sides, the roof was flat in the back, but pointing upwards in the front. Its triangular shaped was on top of two rectangular windows, which, in turn, were above a large room that jutted forward.

Lucius' smirk faded as his face took on a more serious look. He walked on the stone steps and whispered, "Alohomora." The door immediately opened and he listened for the any noise from a burglar alarm. He didn't hear a single thing.

Stepping in, Lucius pointed his wand out and said, "Lumos." The room was brightened up and he sighed to himself. How was he going to find those blasted Muggles when there were about eight different bedrooms in the house? Guess he had to do this the old way.

"Eenie, meenie, miney, mo," he chanted, pointing at each door at each word. "Catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go. Eenie, meenie, miney, mo."

If the situation was different, one would be quite amused at seeing Lucius Malfoy, of all people, chanting a child's way of deciding things. But the situation was a severe one. Lucius' finger pointed out a door to the immediate left of the front door. He opened the door and not to his surprise, he didn't find anybody in there.

"To hell with this!" he shouted. "Accio Muggles!"

A woman and a man in their sleeping garments appeared in the room instantaneously. They both blinked, absolutely bewildered at seeing a strange man in their house.

"It's nice to see you two again," Lucius said ever so politely. He stared disdainfully at them.

"Who...who are you? What do you want?" the man asked, frightened. "I will call the police if you don't get out of my house this instant."

"You don't even remember me." Lucius frowned. "Mr. Granger and Mrs. Granger, am I correct? Please, do sit down."

The woman snapped out of her drowsiness and glared at him. "No. We will do no such thing. You, I don't know -who- you are, but GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

"My, my. You have quite the temper..." Lucius commented. "But I insist--sit down." He pointed his wand at the two and two ropes tied them to different chairs. "Thank you."

"You. I know who you are now. You are one of those... wizards," spat Mr. Granger. "You're the one who fought with Arthur a couple years ago at that bookstore."

Lucius smiled. It was not a nice smile. His next sentences were dripping with pure sarcasm. "I'm glad you finally realized who I am. It is such a shame that you will not be honored to be in my company anymore."

"Look, I don't care who you are still. Just leave us alone, damn it!" Mrs. Granger shouted desperately. "We didn't do anything to you, why are you doing this to us? Why? Can you even give us a reason why?"

"You're Muggles," he replied simply.

"So what's the difference between us and you?"

"You contaminate the world with your pollution. You contaminate the wizarding world with your filthy blood. You cause many, many problems for us."

"That's not a reason. Those are excuses."

"I do not wish to explain myself to the likes of -you-," Lucius stated coldly. He looked at Mr. Granger. "You should learn how to control your wife's temper. I'm trying to be polite here, a polite Death, if you will, and she's just ruining everything."

"My wife does not have a temper. Just get the fuck out of my house or I'm going to kill you," Mr. Granger threatened.

"With what? Your bare fists in those binds? I think not," Lucius laughed in amusement. "I don't think so." His pale eyes narrowed. "I think I'll do away with you first. I don't even know why I bothered talking to you people in the first place. Honestly, am I thinking? It's like talking to animals."

"Why you asshole--" started Mr. Granger.

Lucius interrupted him, "Crucio. I -was- going to make this swift and painless, but you bloody Muggles just don't know how to shut up."

Mr. Granger started writing in pain, his body shaking. His wife let out a scream and shouted at Lucius to stop. Mr. Granger opened his mouth, panting. "If...you... think... I'm... going...to... scream... because of... this... you're... wrong..."

Lucius merely raised a silver eyebrow and pointed his wand at him again. Immediately, Mr. Granger's pain intensified and his pants were coming out in moans and gasps. His body shook violently and he gritted his teeth, not wanting to let Lucius have the pleasure of hearing him scream.

"Stop it. Just STOP IT!" screeched Mrs. Granger, her tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Stop it, shall I?" mocked Lucius. "Why not let him suffer some more?" He made a move to point his wand at him again.

"Nooooooooooo!" wailed Mrs. Granger. "If you have any dignity, just STOP!"

To her surprise, Lucius whispered in incantation under his breath and Mr. Granger stopped twitching. He smirked at her. "Is this what you want? To let him feel the aftermath of the agony...to let him think about what he has just experienced? He may be feeling it again, very soon."

Mrs. Granger didn't say a word. Instead, she was glancing at her husband with pain in her eyes. She didn't know what to do or say. She didn't even know if he was dead or not.

"David...?"

Mr. Granger's head slowly turned towards his wife and he smiled softly at her.

"Aw, this is just so touching," remarked Lucius. "Too bad I'm not in the mood to see this. Hey, here's an idea: I'll just get rid of him now! Avada Kedavra."

There was a flash of green light for a second. Mrs. Granger heard her husband slump back in the chair. Frantic, she looked over him, for any sign of life. There was none. He was dead. Her tears flowed freely now and her body shook with sobs.

"Poor dear. But whatever shall I do with you?" Lucius stood up and walked towards her, grinning sardonically. "Whatever shall I do?"

Mrs. Granger ignored him and continued to stare blankly at her dead husband. She didn't even flinch when a hand began stroking her curly brown hair.

"Do you want to die fast?" He pulled on her hair and she shrieked. "Or do you want to die slow?" His cold fingers slid down to her throat.

She didn't say a word.

"Fine, then. I've had enough with you Muggles anyways. Avada Kedavra."

And Mrs. Granger was no more.

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Over on the other side of England, a man was chasing a fat bellied teenager known as Dudley Dursley around.

"You bloody pig, get back here!" He shouted, waving his wand at Dudley.

Dudley squealed, his sweaty blond bangs sticking against his skin. He turned left, right, and then left again and spotted the closet under the stairs. Without stopping to think that he was too big for it, he opened the door and tried to shove himself in it. He didn't have any success; as soon as he had stuck his first foot in, he became stuck.

"Here you are, you little pig..." the man said gleefully. "I can't believe your parents let you get so obese. Well, thank Merlin they're dead. Obviously, these Muggles--so blind to their own child but so perceptive to the rest of the world." He shook his head.

Dudley squealed again, this time, his feet began kicking at the floor. It made a most amusing sight to Mr. Macnair.

"I don't see why I can't have a little fun with you before you die. Imperio." He pointed at Dudley's behind.

Dudley blinked stupidly. He tried kicking again, but his legs didn't respond to him. What was wrong? What was happening?

"Come out of there," Mr. Macnair directed. Dudley stepped backwards and was out of the doorframe. "Good boy. Now, do a ballet. You might loose some weight, but I doubt that it will help you."

Dudley, who had never been good with balancing, was surprised to see his feet go on its tip-toes. What was more surprising, however, was that his feet could support his body weight. He stretched his arms as far back as he possibly could and began to lift a fat leg behind his other one. Then, he pranced around Mr. Macnair.

"Smile."

He began to smile widely. Dudley was starting to have fun. Who would have thought he would be so graceful on his tip-toes?

Mr. Macnair stared at the sight before him. It was nauseating to see this boy roughly the size of a full grown killer whale jumping around with his hands over his head. Every time he landed from one of his leaps, the whole house shook.

"This is disgusting. Go kill yourself," Mr. Macnair said.

Dudley pulled a gun out of a drawer and shot himself in the head. He was dead.

Mr. Macnair grimaced and rubbed his eyes. "My eyes will never be the same," he muttered to himself.

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By the time what was left of England woke up, a little less than half of its population remained. Of course, the killing spree was made the front page news.