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Fated
None - Words: 23,854 - Rated: M - English - Angst - Chapters: 9 - Reviews: 2 - Updated: 21-04-2018 - Published: 15-04-2018 - by Cleobitchra (FFN)

Albania Forest.
December 3rd, 2004

A cloaked figure rustles across the darkened Albania forest. The forest is quite here. A palpable magic, a cruel magic that simmers through the frosted air. Claiming its foreboding silence. Suddenly the cloaked figure stops near a hidden cave, only a skilled eye or perhaps someone who has been here before would know of such a spot. The cloaked figure enters and begins to interweave through a network of tunnels until it lands in front of a flamed corridor. The cloaked figure turns the corner and is greeted with an ancient hag. She's stooped low and crooked, hair shriveled and skin the color of rotting corpse. The room alone smells of rotten bones, mildew, and the sweet sickly smell of death. She glances up from her dinner of what looks like a muggle wanderer and smiles a toothless grin. " Ahh, I wondered when you would return, your dark magic still lingers in the soil here. It keeps away the worst that the darkness offers, so I suppose I should thank you. Although, I know why you're here boy. Come remove your cloak let me see how you've returned to your cradle" The old hag smiles toothlessly gesturing with her gnarled grey hands.
The cloaked figure grips his wand tighter before finally removing his cloak. The sinister cloaked figure turns out to be a gorgeous man of about late twenties. He has a sculpted face and eyes as black as the forest night.
"I see your strength has returned tenfold. You are much stronger than when you arrived at those cavern doors. But, still, you return here to this place you've defiled with dark magic for what?" The Hag wheezes as she begins to crack into the femur bone of her former victim.
I refuse to let my reign crumble" is all the young man says with depthless eyes.
The hag continues to feast, slurping the marrow from the bone. She finally licks her fingers and says "That prophecy isn't the one to worry about my handsome fiend."

" How so?" the young man says with a raised eyebrow.

The hag stares up at the man and suddenly reaches out her hand "There is an ancient prophecy, a thousand years ago that trumpets that foolhardy prophecy you speak of..." the hag stops talking

"Go on then hag," says the man.
"I need to touch the heir of Slytherin." The man hands over his arm.

The ancient hag's milky eyes flash black and then gold, her voice turns pleasant and beautiful, like a gurgling spring.

"If thou can claim the golden griffin's chaste
and trick her into losing her destined race.
Then thou will not only destroy your mortal enemy's besotted place,
but death shall never grace your face.
Claim the last ethereal princess unjustly strewn in dirt
and the golden trio shall truly be hurt "

" Why would the mudblood be of importance?" The handsome man ask?

"If thou can claim the golden griffin's chaste
and trick her into losing her destined race.
Then thou will not only destroy your mortal enemy's besotted place,
but death shall never grace your face.
Claim the last ethereal princess unjustly strewn in dirt
and the golden trio shall truly be hurt "
repeats the hag, smiling she stares at the young brooding man.

" A griffin is a half eagle and half lion, is the mudblood actually the heir of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw?
The hag shakes her head whispers " A lioness at heart, though eagle through blood."
" So she's a half-blood and Ravenclaw's last heir… figures.. but how shall I receive immorality from her? " but death shall never grace your face". Answer me hag! booms the forboding man.

Dark intoxicating magic swarms the tiny cave, The hag stops smiling and reaches behind her mat, she pulls out a filthy rag wrapped around something rectangle. A little gold shows through the filthy hag hands it over saying "Everything you need to know is in here Slytherin's Heir, now leave me to my ancient slumber Voldemort."

Voldemort stares at the huddled hag, his angelic face a stark contrast to his depthless soulless eyes.
" I wonder did you ever foretell your own demise hag, imagine how befitting that would turn out to be? Voldemort asks while stalking closer to the sentient being.
" I fear it's the one thing we are not allowed to foretell, that is the way of prophecy tellers " the hag wheezes while slowly starting to stand up , as if finally realizing that she's in a very small space with a very dangerous and dark wizard.

Voldemort tilts his head to the side in mocking manner, as if he was disturbed by the news
"Pity… allow me to relieve you of such curiosity, Avada Kedavra"

Green light flashes throughout the cave.
Lord Voldemort stares at the hag's lifeless form before putting back on his cloak and turning to leave.
" I came here once weak and forgotten, I now leave even stronger and soon to be more feared." with that recognition, Voldemort turns and vanishes.
Fiendfyre residue is all that's left of the cave Voldemort spent his earlier years of recovery and vice.

-
Voldemort stands near the clearing of Albania Forest. A glittering object is held in his hand briefly before being stowed back into his robes. He touches his forearm and calls forth his inner circle. Within minutes they kneel around him waiting for his command.
"From this night forward the mudblood Hermione Granger will not be harmed in any way, she will be brought to me with as little discomfort to her as possible. Anyone to do the opposite of what I command will forfeit their life as well as their families bloodline. Is... this... understood?
"Yes My Lord" the upper circle rings out.
"Leave"
Apparation pops are heard before Voldemort is left with cold and silence.

It seems I have to find my faery queen.

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