The Prince of Air and Darkness
Prologue
O Queen of air and darkness,
I think ’tis truth you say,
And I shall die to-morrow;
But you will die to-day.
-A. E. Housman
The sun never shines on the Isle of Azkaban. Even an overcast day is a precious rarity. Storms reigned supreme on the island. Two summers ago the lightning had regularly burst apart the clouds and the thunder had sent nightmares to each of the inmates sealed inside the magically enhanced stone walls. Last winter, the blizzards had iced the castle and hassled the death eaters who had become its new residents.
Normally Tom Riddle reveled in the turbulent weather, but today, standing on the wall tops in the pouring rain, basking in his newfound youth and vigor, he thought he could have managed a little sunlight.
He was Lord Voldemort, ruler of the better part of Britain, terror of the both Muggle and Wizarding worlds. Now he was even more. He was the Prince of Air and Darkness, heir to the darkest magic known to wizards. A magic passed down to him from the days of Merlin and the sorceress Morgana. He was also Master of Azkaban Castle, his impenetrable fortress of the North, the castle from which he ruled most of Britain. Soon it would be all of Britain, those rebels would never last.
He needed something to break their spirit. He needed to prove once and for all that he held the power. He needed to crush their little outpost in London. He needed to lure Harry Potter to his own destruction. He needed bait.
He looked straight up into the rain with a smile on his face. Rain slicked down his raven hair and slid across his silvery skin. He was young again, brought back to his appearance before the horcruxes destroyed it, brought back by the darkest sorcery. He folded his arms and swallowed a raindrop. He needed a little sunshine in his life, the sunshine of revenge. He needed a bride.
* * *
Ginny Weasley jumped a puddle in the street carelessly and darted under a tin shanty to avoid the downpour. She reached the center of the West London Refugee camp in no time, smiling to familiar faces and trying to mentally drown out the voices of children crying in the distance.
“Good to see you Miss Weasley,” the woman at the desk said. “Twenty people in from Kent today.”
“So many!” Ginny stepped to her left. The roof was leaking. “I guess people realize life under Voldemort isn’t life at all.”
“Twenty more mouths to feed,” the woman countered darkly.
“Still, little food is better than death, right?” She tapped her fingers on the desk. “You heard about the latest Muggle purges?”
“Right again, Miss.” The woman sighed and began to stack a pile of damp papers. “What’s the message?”
Ginny shook her hands through her hair, trying to dry it out. “Harry Potter sends his greetings. He’s asking any able bodied wizards who can be spared from the camp to join him at the great wall tomorrow. They’re going to try and strengthen it. Potter expects another attempt invasion.” The magic wall was their only hope. Their meager forces would never be enough to stop Voldemort’s forces from overrunning the city if the wall was destroyed.
The woman finished stacking. “I’ll get the word out. Will you be joining Mr. Potter at the wall?”
She shook her head. Raindrops flew out, “I have raid duty tomorrow. This camp needs supplies. Everyone is getting sick; we need potion ingredients, exotic plants for our spells, things you can’t find in London during a blockade. It’s a pity we can’t conjure things outside the wall. ”
The woman frowned, “Be careful, Miss. No point in throwing your life away at twenty.”
Ginny considered her words. Even now Ron was in the hospital, Percy was dead, and no one knew what had happened to Charlie. But their sacrifice meant something. “Bringing supplies to these people is not throwing my life away.” She pointed out of the shanty and into the camp. “These people need our help. Everyday more refugees arrive. We can’t magic these buildings together fast enough, without doing a shoddy job.” She pointed to the leak in the roof with her wand and sealed it angrily. Then she calmed and addressed the woman again, “Thanks for your concern, and for all that you do. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow,” she promised.
Ginny didn’t bother to jump the puddle on her way home. She would slap on a drying charm when she arrived. She walked slowly back along the streets. She had no idea she was being watched.
* * *
Draco Malfoy was going to rot. He had no idea how long he had spent in the captivity of the Muggle lovers, it was months now, maybe years. He supposed he was lucky. Potter should have killed him when he had the chance. Upon his capture he was sure Potter would have him executed immediately. Instead, Potter had barely given him a second glance before vaguely proclaiming, “life sentence.” After that, he had expected questioning, torture, vengeance. He had been certain that any day Potter would arrive at his cell to gloat over his defeated. But the day never came.
He was left alone. His hair grew until it curled around his neck. He wondered again how long it had been. The prison guards never spoke to him, even when he demanded their attention. He wanted answers, but instead all they gave him was time to stew over his life’s decisions. Sometimes he wished he had been executed.
He could hear rain from outside the walls. Was winter coming? He stood up from the bed (he was still stunned they had given him a mattress) and peered through the bars of his cell. He pushed the hair out of his face for a better view.
A single cloaked guard was standing in the dim light of the corridor. He wondered who was on duty today. As if in answer to his silent question the figure turned slightly and a few bushy brown curls escaped her hood. Draco grinned in triumph. That hair was unmistakable.
“Hey, Mudblood!” he hissed through the bars. Hermione Granger whipped around with her wand in hand. Her eyes searched wildly around the corridor of cells for the prisoner who had addressed her. She frowned in relief when she saw Draco’s silver eyes gleaming out from behind the bars of the last cell in the hallway. “Get me out of here!” he demanded, “I can’t stand it any longer!”
“Shut up, Malfoy,” she said, pocketing her wand. “We feed you.” She and all the others who took turns guarding the prisoners had heard plenty of his little speeches. She turned to go.
“GET ME OUT OF HERE!” he screeched after her. “I’ll do anything! I’ll tell you anything! I’ll betray anyone! I’ll save both your boyfriends!” he promised “JUST GET ME OUT OF THIS BLOODY CELL!”
“Silencio,” Hermione pointed her wand and muttered back at him. She continued her way down the corridor.
* * *
Harry Potter arrived at his office late the next night. It was still raining. He was the unofficial leader of the resistance against Voldemort, but he preferred his location in London to remain unknown to the general public of his rebel city. His residence was currently a small room in the Leaky Cauldron. A bed and a desk were all he needed. His head ached as he sat down in the desk chair. He had never performed such difficult magic for such a long period of time. But the wall around London was twice as strong now. Voldemort would never penetrate his city. And someday, someday they would defeat him.
There was a letter on his desk. Hedwig must have delivered it sometime during the afternoon. He opened it gingerly. Such letters were usually bad news.
Dear Mr. Potter,
I offer my deepest and most heartfelt condolences. I fear we have lost another proud warrior in our great cause. As you know, Ginerva Weasley and her raiding party left the city this morning, and this afternoon we lost contact with them. It seems the entire party has disappeared without a trace, no doubt more victims of Lord Voldemort. I would kindly request your presence tomorrow morning to discuss this horrendous loss.
Yours Entirely,
Ernie Macmillan, Chief Supply Officer, Dumbledore’s Army
Harry dropped the letter, his hands shaking. His cursing of Voldemort’s name was drowned out by a roll of thunder. Outside a storm was growing…
The Prince of Air and Darkness by starlightzephyr
Chapter Notes: This is just a teaser/setup for what's to come. The story really begins in Chapter One (which is much longer). I don't own any of J. K. Rowling's material. This is NOT a Ginny/Tom fic.