Post by The Dark Lord Voldemort on Aug 14, 2009 21:29:26 GMT -5
The cool night air wrapped around a lone figure on the grounds. His pale head was visible in the filtered moonlight, as there was no hood to cover it on the cloak. The scattered clouds seemed to hold the mood of the being below them, most appearing to be dark and ominous, even those that gathered the light from the lonely moon. The light bathed figured looked up at the mighty form of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as if seeing it brought back some form of pleasant memories...Not that this figure could have such memories. His blood red, reptilian eyes scoured the surrounding grounds for any sign of life, be it human or other. Clutched in his right hand was the wand of Yew, while the Elder Wand hung protectively from the belt hidden under the cloak. A slight breeze shook him from whatever trip his mind had taken at viewing the castle who’s windows were ablaze with the lights of the Great Hall, the Dorms, some class rooms and even the towers where some were star gazing through the clouds on this cool October evening.
Halloween was fast approaching, which meant that he, The Dark Lord, would be arriving for the festivities, not that he would enjoy them. The children enjoyed them for many reasons, each student had a different reason to enjoy it. The Dark Lord enjoyed watching the fear and suffering that some of the Halloween tasks pulled out of the students and some of the staff; the very thought of it brought a wicked smile out of the once passively cold features of his face. Voldemort closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in the smell of the grounds, school and village beyond. His nostrils flared at the scent of the many Werewolves, Vampires and Unknowns that littered the area. Slowly, his eyes opened; the slitted pupils contracted to a thin vertical line as they focused on something ahead of them. Hogwarts’ main doors were ajar, propped open by Filch as he worked around the entry hall for some unknown reason.
Voldemort’s right eye twitched at the sight of the old man bustling about with his business so late at night, when the doors should be closed and locked. He curled his upper lip and started toward the doors at a brisk pace; closing the distance between him and school quite quickly. Voldemort’s true purpose for being here was not to punish staff members that were obviously ignoring his school rules. It was to visit his top Death Eater and current Headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape. As he lay a foot on the first step of the entry hall’s staircase, Voldemort growled a command to shut the doors at an unsuspecting Filch, who jumped so suddenly at the sight of the Dark Lord, he dropped the broom he had been handling and started to fumble for words; his eyes and lips were twitching uncontrollably. Voldemort ignored the Squib for now and passed him with such speed, you would have thought he’d spotted something he desperately wanted dead ahead of him.
Now that he was in the castle, Voldemort found himself lost, unable to really decide where he wanted to go first. The memories of his past once again came rushing back to him, as it did every time he visited this old place. Some of them were good times, others, quite the opposite. Though no matter what it was that filtered into the serpentine brain of one each Tom Marvolio Riddle, one could be sure that it didn’t draw a lovely picture. Voldemort had always been a vicious monster, deep down inside, there was just a black abyss that kept swallowing up any attempts made by others to bring him back into the folds of the light. And even as he stood here now, in the school he had rebuilt and claimed as his own, he still hadn’t escaped the awful truth that even within his school, his fortress...His home, there were those who despised him for what he had become and done.
Two ghosts, probably some of that Headless Hunt raffle, gave him a nasty glare, one that Voldemort only half acknowledged and replied to with a slight smile. After the ghosts had left and Filch had run by at a speed meant only for a Snitch in a game of Quidditch, Voldemort placed his Yew wand into his belt and ordered a Prefect that had been out on his rounds, to go and fetch the Headmaster immediately.
Halloween was fast approaching, which meant that he, The Dark Lord, would be arriving for the festivities, not that he would enjoy them. The children enjoyed them for many reasons, each student had a different reason to enjoy it. The Dark Lord enjoyed watching the fear and suffering that some of the Halloween tasks pulled out of the students and some of the staff; the very thought of it brought a wicked smile out of the once passively cold features of his face. Voldemort closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in the smell of the grounds, school and village beyond. His nostrils flared at the scent of the many Werewolves, Vampires and Unknowns that littered the area. Slowly, his eyes opened; the slitted pupils contracted to a thin vertical line as they focused on something ahead of them. Hogwarts’ main doors were ajar, propped open by Filch as he worked around the entry hall for some unknown reason.
Voldemort’s right eye twitched at the sight of the old man bustling about with his business so late at night, when the doors should be closed and locked. He curled his upper lip and started toward the doors at a brisk pace; closing the distance between him and school quite quickly. Voldemort’s true purpose for being here was not to punish staff members that were obviously ignoring his school rules. It was to visit his top Death Eater and current Headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape. As he lay a foot on the first step of the entry hall’s staircase, Voldemort growled a command to shut the doors at an unsuspecting Filch, who jumped so suddenly at the sight of the Dark Lord, he dropped the broom he had been handling and started to fumble for words; his eyes and lips were twitching uncontrollably. Voldemort ignored the Squib for now and passed him with such speed, you would have thought he’d spotted something he desperately wanted dead ahead of him.
Now that he was in the castle, Voldemort found himself lost, unable to really decide where he wanted to go first. The memories of his past once again came rushing back to him, as it did every time he visited this old place. Some of them were good times, others, quite the opposite. Though no matter what it was that filtered into the serpentine brain of one each Tom Marvolio Riddle, one could be sure that it didn’t draw a lovely picture. Voldemort had always been a vicious monster, deep down inside, there was just a black abyss that kept swallowing up any attempts made by others to bring him back into the folds of the light. And even as he stood here now, in the school he had rebuilt and claimed as his own, he still hadn’t escaped the awful truth that even within his school, his fortress...His home, there were those who despised him for what he had become and done.
Two ghosts, probably some of that Headless Hunt raffle, gave him a nasty glare, one that Voldemort only half acknowledged and replied to with a slight smile. After the ghosts had left and Filch had run by at a speed meant only for a Snitch in a game of Quidditch, Voldemort placed his Yew wand into his belt and ordered a Prefect that had been out on his rounds, to go and fetch the Headmaster immediately.
