Somewhere in the invisible distance, water dropped steadily. The air smelled damp. A witch staggered through the cold, stone halls, shaking more out of fear than the rain she had just traveled through. She was blindfolded, supported by her captors. Her toe caught an uneven stone and she cried out. Immediately, she felt the sting of a man's hand against her cheek, and stumbled.
"Silence," he growled.
A whimper escaped her lips as she shakily stood, only to be pushed forward once again. Their footsteps echoed eerily along the walls. Eventually, a man's voice joined the echo, a voice so horrible it sent chills up and down her spine.
"What did you say?"
"They've moved him, My Lord. He's no longer staying with the muggles."
"Then where is he?" There was a slight pause. "WHERE IS HE?"
"I don't know, My Lord, we—"
The witch gasped and stopped short. In the silence, she heard the body tumble to the ground. Her captors roughly forced her to continue, and her heart sank more with each step.
"Severus," the voice said, "you assured me he would not be moved until his seventeenth birthday. You assured me!"
"I was misinformed, My Lord. I'm afraid the Order no longer trusts me."
"Then find someone they do trust and get the information from him!" the voice spat. "Find Potter, or this mistake will not be overlooked!"
They were close to the voice now—too close. Without warning, the witch was thrust to the ground. With her hands bound behind her, her nose caught her fall. It broke instantly, but the pain was nothing close to the terror she was feeling at this moment.
All the voices in the room stopped. For a number of minutes, the only sound heard was her heavy breathing. She tried to calm it, but was unsuccessful.
"What is it?" the voice hissed.
"She was with the group hiding in the woods, My Lord—"
"I thought my instructions were clear, Malfoy. What did I say?"
Her captor—the one that had slapped her—hesitated. "You said no survivors."
"So why do I see a survivor before me?"
"Because, My Lord—she's clairvoyant. We caught her in the middle of a prophecy, and she said your name."
The witch felt his gaze on the back of her neck. Her blindfold was ripped off. The room was very dark, lit with only a few floating candles from what she could see. She continued to stare at the ground, doing all she could to avoid meeting his gaze.
An unseen power forced her face upward. Fear jolted through her entire body as she met his blood-red eyes. She tried to shrink away, but was paralyzed in horror. The reptilian attributes of his face made it hard to believe he had ever been human. Slowly, he leaned forward on his throne, his eyes narrowing even more than they already were.
"Let's hear the prophecy, then."
Mustering all of her courage, she shook her head.
The witch screeched in pain, writhing on the ground, ears ringing. After what felt like an eternity, the curse was lifted. Her sobs filled the silent chamber. The Dark Lord stepped down from his throne and grabbed her face with his hands, bringing his nose just inches away from hers.
"Now let's try that again."
She hesitated, trying to remain strong. In an instant, she was screaming again, every bone in her body in searing pain. When the curse finally ended, she gasped in air through her sobs.
It was no use.
"You are to have a son," she choked out.
He raised one eyebrow, intrigued. "Go on."
"He will be a wizard second in power only to yourself. You will raise him to be your successor, to instill fear in the hearts of men."
Voldemort was listening closely now. "How am I to have this son?"
"You will seduce a virtuous young witch," she said, detesting each syllable that came out of her mouth.
"And who is this witch?"
The witch hesitated, racking her brain for a way to conceal this part of the prophecy from him. "She—will be close to your enemy. A witch with great power over all realms of magic."
He grabbed her hair and forced her head up. She stifled a cry.
She grit her teeth and held her mouth shut. Muttering under his breath, the Dark Lord threw her to the ground. The witch curled into a ball as he pointed his wand at her, bracing herself for death.
Terror overcame her as she felt a foreign presence in her mind. The presence snaked through her thoughts and memories, the good and the bad, searching for information on the prophecy. She did all she could to hide it, but there was no point. The snake in her mind latched onto the memory of the prophecy and began rifling through, uncovering all the details she'd tried to conceal from him.
"If I'm not present at the boy's birth, he'll become a force for good." The Dark Lord's voice was inside her mind now. She shivered. "Practically unstoppable. When did you plan on telling me that?"
He delved deeper into the memory. With her last ounce of strength, she wrapped her mind around the young woman's identity, doing all she could to hide it from him. Like glass, her attempted shield was shattered, and the name was forced to the forefront of her mind. She glanced up and saw a crooked smile appear on the Dark Lord's face. Her heart sank.
"Thank you," he cackled as he released her mind from his grasp. "You have been most helpful."
He pointed his wand at her once again. This was it—this was the end. As his lips began to form the forbidden curse, adrenaline surged through her, and she stood.
"LONG LIVE POTTER!" she screamed, and welcomed the flash of green light that lit up the world around her.
A/N: For those of you who've read this before, bear with me as I go through and edit it. Some things will be changed, the story as a whole will be a lot longer, and I hope you'll enjoy it as well a second time around.
For those of you who have not read this story before, I hope you are intrigued! Please review! :)