Silver Storms and Red Ruins

The air was cold, damp, and reeked of dark magic. The forgotten manor groaned as if affected by it. It was dark, and the night blanketed the grounds around the manor. And yet again, a light flickered from one of the upper windows of the manor.

Everything was quiet, not peaceful of course, but in nervous anticipation. The very earth itself dreaded the evil that lurked inside the old Riddle manor.

However, seemingly unaffected, Barty Crouch Jr. stood in the doorway to one of the bedrooms. He drank in the dark magic that caressed his soul. Firelight danced in his eyes as he surveyed the room, almost matching the demonic glint already there.

Across from him, standing behind a ragged armchair, cowered none other than Peter Pettigrew. True to his alias, he restlessly twitched. His fingers never strayed too far from his face, and his glittering eyes constantly skittered about the room. He was afraid. Both men were, and rightfully so.

They had been, all of them, deceived.

Barty took a deep breath, before swooping down to the armchair. His tongue twitched from his lip as he eyed the disfigured creature before him.

“My lord, these could all be rumors. You, yourself, ended the bloodline. If an heir had been produced, surely the runt would’ve been there that night,” He whispered hastily. Barty barely registered the faint hissing behind him. He had been well accustomed to Nagini by now. Without glancing, he knew the snake was slowly circling the room. Barty flinched only when the creature in the chair shrieked in annoyance.

“Wormtail!! Tell us again, what you have learned!” The dark lord cried out to his other servant.

Wormtail, shaking, stayed where he stood. Raising his head slightly, he met Barty’s eyes.
“The mother- the Weasley mother. She spoke once or twice of a girl. She never spoke of her in front of anyone else, other than to her husband. She spoke of the power this child might possess one day— and of the power she already had. She- she just said she was to be hidden until it was certain the Dark Lord was never to return-”

“This means nothing! Everyone in their right mind still fears the Dark Lord! This could be the child of any of the Resistance members,” Barty’s voice rang through the hallways. His voice was flooded with disbelief, but his eyes held the smallest trace of fear.

“Quiet! You must remember, fool! These people belong in the inner rank! No extreme measures would have been taken to protect a random Resistance member’s child. If this child exists, the parents would indeed rely on the Weasley’s. I have been blind. When I killed the parents, I did not think to look deeper for a child. They must’ve gotten her out in time,” The Dark Lord’s voice slithered around the room. Both servants shrank back at the venom the speech cast out. Nagini had long since curled around the feet of her master’s chair, sensing his panic.

“Those traitors would never just hide a child. They would’ve trained her, taught her how to fight from a young age. I must regain my strength as quickly as possible. If this claim holds any truth— if this child joins Potter....” The Dark Lord’s voice trailed into an insane whisper. Barty’s breath caught in his throat. Standing, he paced to the doorway. He froze almost halfway there.

“The mother never spoke of this girl in front of the children. No one else knows of her. My Lord! We could use this! This child knows nothing of the world— nothing of true fear! If you were to draw her out, convince her- maybe threaten her— to join us. Treat her as a tool, instead of an obstacle,” Barty smiled wickedly as he once again approached the creature.

A few moments passed. The creature managed a gnarled, twisted smile. The darkness seemed to grow maniacal, almost attacking the light of the fire.

“So be it. Either Merlin’s heir will join me, or she will die.”