The Inquistor of Inquistors

Chapter Three: Setting the Stage

A plethora of emotions intertwined within Dolores as she stared out into the vast nothingness of her new surroundings. Part of her being would not accept what had just occurred, it seemed so, so illogical, and logic was something that Dolores had always relied on, and it had never failed her until now.

"Should I yell for help?" she thought to herself, but suddenly a loud howl sounded from the distance, sending shivers down her back. "Best not," she thought to herself.

"How could it be," she continued thinking to herself, "that my Lord could have betrayed me. I placed my faith in something so reliable, and it collapsed. He was going to bring Myrtle back and!" she stopped, as tears began flowing down her fat cheeks, illumining the eerie countryside in a watery shield.

The infinite stars began to slowly dance across the sky, and Dolores sat down, having not moved a muscle since her arrival in this strange place. "There has to be a way out," she thought to herself. "He can't just leave me here. Maybe it's a test - that's it! A Test! He's trying to see if I'm strong enough to be a part of his elite group." But somehow Dolores was not confident enough to feel at ease.

Just as Dolores began to drift to sleep, lulled by the gentle melody of the wind against the trees, another howl ripped through the night sky, louder this time. Dolores's eyes were suddenly wide open, and she was fully alert, as she stood up. She rummaged through her cloak to reach for her wand, but -- "It's gone," she suddenly realized. "He took it. What I am to do without it?" she thought in a panic. There could be trolls, ogres, demons, even werewolves here... dangerous half-breeds. What does he think he's doing?"

Dolores refused to allow herself to go back to sleep, instead, pacing back and forth, wondering whether she should move around, or stay put. She remembered as soon as she had arrived there, she had noticed a small shack, illuminated in the setting sun. Possibly, if she got there... something good would be there. "Yes, something good," she reassured herself.

The full moon shown bright against the ground making the shadows longer, and the night even quieter. Dolores began to make her way to the small building, each step slightly smaller than the last. "This has all been a very strange night," she thought. "Maybe it's a dream, maybe all of it is some crazy idea I've had, and nothing more."

But she didn't wake up, and she felt very real as the door of the building, an opening and closing wooden slab, loomed in view. Through a crack in a board she could see light inside, hopefully meaning that there was someone in there that could help her. Slowly, she approached the door. Should she knock? It seemed probable that there was nobody in there though, so she simply pushed against the door, and slowly the room loomed into view.

* * *

"Get--off - of - me!" she shrieked, pulling her handbag close to her for protection.

She had walked into what appeared to be not a room, but a vast hall. It had to have been impossible for some many beings, so many things to congregate in such a small shack. It couldn't have been a Portkey, could it? Then she remembered. There was certain spell she had learned about, a charm in which large areas can be magical fit into a small area. It had been done for the 1834 Warlock's convention in fear of raids from Goblins.

She had been there for nearly five minutes now, her face paler, and her palms sweatier than ever. There were giants, goblins, werewolves, all sorts of the dangerous half-breeds she feared, hundreds, maybe even thousands of them, staring at what looked like a stage. There were even - she gasped - dementors! She felt the happiness begin to dwindle, and for the second time in her life, felt the feeling of doom, beyond no return, as if something were about to engulf her.

Through the daze however, as she began to stare at the stage and then her eyes widened and mind cleared.

Lord Voldemort was taking stage, and the first war was soon to begin.