Disclaimer: I do not own any material written by J. K. Rolling or Walt Whitman.


A/N: This is just the prologue…the chapters will be longer.


And Then There Were Eight

The Prologue


Clear and sweet is my soul,

And clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.

-Song of Myself, Walt Whitman

ATTWE

The only light came from the stars.

Seventeen cloaked figures were gathered around the grave of a one Tom Riddle Senior, perfectly blending in with the shadows that had consumed them years before.

The stringy grass beneath their feet blew every-which way in the surprisingly warm wind of the nighttime.

"So who's leading the ritual?" A brown and greasy haired man asked, facing a tall blonde who seemed to be the one in power at the moment.

"I am," The blonde replied. "Considering I was the one who planned and organized this meeting, Augustus."

Augustus Rookwood scoffed. "Yes, the person leading will be the same person who used his money to buy his way onto the light-side when he crawled to them on his hands and knees."

"You will do well to thank me," The blonde hissed. "I was the one who organized the break-out. Without me you'd still be rotting away in Azkaban." He grimaced. "And I never left the Deatheaters."

The person sneered. "Well you should have been locked in there with us. But you ran, like the unfaithful little coward you are. You abandoned your Deatheaters, your Lord, and bribed your way to freedom, just like the last time." He spat. "You're worth no more than Pettigrew, Lucius."

Lucius drew his wand, but the youngest person among the crowd got in-between the two wizards. "He only fled to make sure I was alive," Draco told Rookwood with his eyes flashing. "He did not flee for his own safety. He did not abandon the Deatheaters. And you, Augustus Rookwood, would do well to mind only what you know."

Pushing his son aside, Lucius stood inches away from Augustus. "If I had been locked away, do you really think you'd be out now? I got you out when I could have lived my life as a regular wizard. But I choose to be a Deatheater, as you have, and tonight we are serving our soul-sworn duties to serve our Lord. So put away you childish grudges."

Augustus said nothing but shoved pass Lucius, hitting his shoulder as he did so.

"I agree with Rookwood," said Yaxley, a man with a hard face and matching dark brown hair and eyes. He turned towards Lucius. "Why should we trust anyone in your family? It's because of your wife that Harry Potter lived!"

"Yes, my wife, not me. And the Dark Lord will just have to punish her as he sees fit once he's returned." Lucius held up silver bracelet with a single red ruby. "And he will return. Tonight."

"And how are you sure of that?"Macnair asked, crossing his arms, a scowl placed beneath his thin black mustache. "How do you know the spell will work? How do you know that object you hold is His horcrux?"

"What's it to you, Walden?" Snapped Augustus. "You're just like Malfoy over here. You ran away after you saw our Lord collapsed. You ran, even though you knew he wasn't really dead!"

"No one wants to be locked up in Azkaban," Macnair answered. "And excuse me if I thought I'd be more useful running free than locked up, thousands of miles away from the Dark Lord."

Augustus spat in response.

"Enough of this bickering!" Lucius demanded. "We don't want the muggles hearing us, noticing us…we don't want them coming near us."

"And if they did?" Crabbe Sr. asked.

"Why, we'd just give them a little preview of what we'd be doing to everyone else after we regained control." Augustus gave a wicked smile as his eyes darkened. "We'd let them scream a little and then w-"

"Enough!" Lucius hissed. "We don't do anything to the muggles unless we want the Aurors interfering. Do you know how catastrophic it would be if they found out the Deatheaters were rejoining again? And that Potter and his friends know about the horcruxes – it would only be a matter of time before the wizarding world knew the Dark Lord was not dead!"

Yaxley asked, "We can't just put up a simple char – "

"No!" Lucius barked. "Any concealment spells will affect the ritual! So the sooner this is over, the better."

Bitterly, Augustus replied, "Well let's get this damn thing over with then."

"Well is everyone here?" Lucius asked, peering over the large group of people.

"People present include everyone we broke out of Azkaban who are," Macnair reported, and nodded his head in greeting to each person as he called their names. "The Callows, Dolohov, Goyle, both Lestrange brothers, Mulciber, Nott, Rookwood, as you already know – " He gave Augustus a pointed look – "Selwyn, Travers, and Yaxley.

"And of course there is Jugson, your son, and myself. All of the living Deatheaters are present except for Avery. He fled from the battle at Hogwarts and no one has seen him since."

"Damn coward," Augustus growled as he squeezed his wand.

Draco," Lucius addressed, ignoring Rookwood's comment. "It looks like you will be taking part after all."

"Him?" Augustus protested. "He's just a child, Lucius! He can't participate in such a complex ritual like this."

"I am not a mere child," Draco snarled. "I could take yo-"

"He knows the spell, he is of age," Lucius interrupted. "And we need seventeen people for this to work. Or have you forgotten about the powers of numbers?"

"That's right," Yaxley said. "The number seventeen – it's both luck and power; two things we can't get enough of when trying something as dangerous as this."

"There is still no way that little brat can produce enough magic to fill in Avery's part!"

Holding his hand out to stop Draco from speaking Lucius spoke, "Are you telling me you wouldn't risk your life for our Lord now, after everything else you have done for him?" He sneered. "And you call me a coward."

Augustus stood taller, towering over everyone in the crowd. "Only for the Dark Lord's return will I do this. Not for you or your little spawn. Just for the Dark Lord, and his power to destroy all those absentminded disgraces who call themselves light. Only to destroy those despicable people who are ruining the wizarding world."

Eyes narrowed, Lucius nodded tightly.

Macnair coughed slightly and with the attention on him he pried, "I still want to know how you're positive that bracelet is the last horcrux of the Dark Lord. If there was some mistake, or some misunderstanding, and it turned out the bracelet was just a piece of decorative jewelry – "

" – The spell would backfire and kill us." The oldest Malfoy spoke. "Yes, it's very risky. But this object is definitely a horcrux. For one, our Master had made his previous horcruxes out of antiques – Helga Hufflepuff's cup, Rowena Ravenclaws' diadem, Salazar Slytherin's locket…do you see a pattern here? Well, he also had found something that belonged to Godric Gryffindor." He held up the bracelet.

"Now of course, that doesn't prove this is a horcrux. But if any of you feel doubt, just come near the object and you'll feel that very familiar dark magic radiating off it."

Macnair boldly stepped up and placed his hand over Godric's bracelet. He stepped back and shrugged defeated. "You're right. There's no doubt. It's a horcrux."

"Besides," Lucius smirked. "What else could have made your Dark Marks burn?" Lucius pulled up his sleeve and placed the horcrux on his Dark Mark, burning the others' arms in return.

"If there's no doubt, are we ready, then?" Yaxley impatiently asked.

"Well only if everyone has the incantation memorized." Lucius answered as they all formed in a circle around Tom Riddle Sr.'s grave. "Well do you all?" He snapped when he was met with silence.

A murmur of 'yeses' sounded throughout the circle.

"Good," Jugson, with red tinted hair and dark blue eyes, grumbled under his breath, speaking for the first time tonight. "Took one hell of a time to construct the incantation, you know, since there were no written spells for bringing a Dark Lord back to life through a horcrux."

"Your work will be rewarded, Jugson, I'm sure of it," Yaxley encouraged.

Lucius walked to the grave and set the horcrux at the foot of it before rejoining the circle.

"Now make sure to keep your wands pointed at the horcrux for the entire spell. We can not afford to make any mistakes." He looked around the circle, making eye contact with each person. "Now, then, begin on three. And remember to speak in Latin. Even during the individual portion."

He took a deep breath. "One…two…three!"

Everyone began to speak.

"In ancient hortus qua is eram quondam reborn,

Nos scisco vos pro him ut orior oriri ortus quondam magis.

Huic res suus animus lies,

Quod suus veneficus sileo intus nostrum cores."

The horcrux levitated about two feet off the ground, not swaying once in the growing harsh wind.

"Septumdecim wiling alio es hic tonight,

Ut tribuo suus animus a tertius chance.

Ut is adveho , is adveho , nos mos recipero,

Quisquis fortuna vos have in repono."

It started glowing a faint green.

"Succurro him orior oriri ortus , fortuna,

Succurro him orior oriri ortus.

Orior oriri ortus iterum , nostrum Senior,

Orior oriri ortus iterum."

It was now the horcrux began to smoke from its spot in the air, and a high pitched voice which seemed to come from no where asked in Latin, "And do you willingly lend your magic away?"

One by one, everyone said, "EGO congruo." I accept.

And after a person said it, they would feel almost all their magic drain from them, and their knees would buckle as they struggled to stay standing – using very last bit of their will to stay standing. As the last person finished the ritual and the spell ended everyone practically collapsed to the ground in fatigue.

And they were all so light-headed and weary they didn't notice the bracelet had burst into flames.

And they didn't notice a tall and handsome human looking twenty year old stood in it's place.

They didn't notice that they succeed.

That the spell worked.

That Lord Voldemort was back.


A/N: Okay, I don't know Latin at all, so I had to settle for an online translator, so I know the grammar is horrible. So here's the English version (bare with me, I'm not good with those spells/chants things…so this sounds really cheap):

On the ancient grounds where he was once reborn,

We ask you for him to rise once more.

In this object his soul lies,

And his magic rests within our cores.

Seventeen wiling persons are here tonight,

To give his soul a third chance.

As he comes, he comes, we will accept,

Whatever fate you have in store.

Help him rise, fates.

Help him rise.

Rise once more, our Lord

Rise once more.

-Oh, and also, if anyone has a question about who was who within the Deatheaters just review or PM me asking, considering a lot of the Deatheater characters aren't well known. I mean, I know I had to go and familiarize myself with all of them before writing this chapter.

But the next chapter will be Harry's POV. Like I said above, this is just the prologue.