Chapter 8

"What do you mean he is gone?" The tone was harsh and demanding. Very different from his kind, grandfatherly act he put on as headmaster of Hogwarts.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore; leader of the Light, supreme Mugwump of the ICW, and personal adviser to one Cornelius Fudge the current Minister of Magic; was feeling anything but kind and grandfatherly.

Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World and the lights current weapon, was missing. No one noticed him leaving, he had left no tracks, used no underage magic. What really made him made was the trace he put on the last Potter heir was removed at some point, and he didn't even notice! If the trinket that monitored the boys health hadn't stop moving, Dumbledore would have thought that Potter had died.

"Did you question his relatives?"

"We were waiting on…." Dumbledore tuned out the pitiful excuses that his minion, his loyal follower spilled in order to escape his wrath.

"Enough. Question his relatives, find out what happened, and if the know where he is." Some days he wondered why he put up with such stupid simpletons. When most of the time they can't get anything done without their hand being held.

Dumbledore sighed, if only he didn't need their support, and their money. He looked to the ring on his left ring finger; hidden under a powerful, subtle glamour, was a simple ring with a small bloodstone. Oh, Grindewald, how I miss you, we were so close to our goal. But soon, soon we will-

"Severus, my boy, come in." He pulled himself out of his thoughts, the grandfatherly mask firmly back on. Dumbledore bit back a smirk as he took in the snaky potions professor that swooped in, cape flapping behind him like the overly large bat the children named him.

The potential the boy had as a youth, before he squandered it away on that Evan's girl and the Dark Lord. Well, no need for such thoughts, he had… changed… the boys mind. And now he had the youngest potions master since Salazar Slytherin himself, firmly under his thumb.

"Lemon drop?"

Severus Snape was a snaky, bitter man who did not like dealing with children. And yet, because of a single child he was now stuck teaching hundreds of adolescents year after year.

Despite what Dumbledore thought, he was not firmly under the manipulative coots thumb. Whatever mind magic the man had put on him in his early adult life, it was almost all the way off. He had to go carefully about it, subtly changing and breaking away at the enchantment ever since he had found Potters first year. Soon, soon it will gone completely and their would be absolutely no way for anyone to put him in another.

"No headmaster, now if you would please get right to business I might be able to get back to my potion in time before its completely unsalvageable." He sneered at the twinkling fool.

Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling strongly as he fixed them on the irritated potions master.

"Of course my boy, now have you heard from Tom yet?"

Harry paced the small area in front of the fireplace. Fenrir was, at this moment, with the Dark Lord setting up the meeting. It practically killed his Slytherin side to go in with so like information, let alone without some form of insurance that he'll leave unharmed. While the Gryffindor side of him chaffed at having to go to his enemy, the murderer of his parents… But, it was necessary. After all its better the enemy you know than the enemy concealed in shadow.

Running his hand through his think mane he called hair, Harry wondered what his friend would think of him now… Harry Potter, boy wonder, the Chosen One, going willingly into Voldemort's lair without the intent to finish the job.

Harry smirked, forget his friends, just imagining the face of that muggle loving fool of a headmaster was enough to help him make a Potronus strong enough to fought off a hundred Dementors. The old fool was probably only just now finding out that he wasn't with his relatives anymore.

Harry wondered what the headmaster would do when he finds out exactly what happened. Would he pretend it didn't happen, that it was just a misunderstanding? Or would he just blame everything on him? How would he explain everything to the Order of the Phoenix? Would they even find out, let alone care?

Either way it proves to be an interesting beginning to the school year.

Harry stopped his pacing, looking at the small clock above the fireplace. Eleven o'clock. Fenrir has been gone a couple hours already….

Fenrir breathed in deeply, taken in the chill of the evening air. The town below him was caste in shadow, the moon's light hidden by thick clouds. The night was quiet, the town was going to bed. The creatures of the night were just waking up, just starting to come out into the chilled air.

The old, abandoned manor looked haunted as it stood alone on top of the hill. No lights shone out of the its dust caked windows, you could see the paint peeling even in the dark of the night.

Gathering himself back to the present Fenrir made his way into Riddle manor. Confident that the Dark Lord would greatly approve of his message.

The inside of the manor was little better that the outside. The musty smell of ages past refused to give way to modern era's. The décor was gothic and ancient, was covered in inches of dust. The house looked as abandoned on the inside as it did on the outside, building the fact it currently housed the most wanted and feared man in the Wizarding World.

Belonging to Lord Voldemort's muggle paternal family, it was the perfect pace to have his headquarters. Everyone knew that Lord Voldemort hated muggles of all kinds, who would think that his base of operations would be so close to a whole village of them? Let alone in his shameful fathers manor.

Coming on to the second floor you would think that you were in a different house all together. There was no dust anywhere in sight, the décor was tasteful and full of Wizarding history. Not something that would be out of character in the Malfoy's Mansion.

Coming to the chamber put aside to meet his followers, Fenrir admired the mural. The Dark Lord must have recently added it.

A forest scene in the dead of night, creatures of the dark out playing, hunting. Snakes entangled like vines throughout the mural moved throughout the mural moved unnoticed. It was a beautifully dark piece, the magic in it making it more so.

Finished looking at the mural Fenrir pushed the wide double doors open. Stepping inside the antechamber where the Dark Lord himself sat waiting for his report.


Okay, now you are all going to hate me... I am redoing this whole story because I really dislike how I have written it. The redone version will be up (at least the first two chapters) later today as I have a class in about a half hour... not enough time to post and get to class... well I might be able to... anyway, look for it on my profile, it'll just have redone added to the title so it won't be to confusing. And don't worry I'll leave this one up.

The next chapter for this story will simply be a full chapter dedicated to all you have reviewed ^_^ So... it won't actually be a chapter chapter...