Loyalty or Death

The sky was stormy, but dry. The clouds were rolling in with a powerful wind, threatening to drop their waters upon the village below. Every now and then a flash of lighting would light up the sky, and a few moments later the echoing thunder rolled through the flat landscape.

A man walked though the cobbled streets, his nose wrinkled in disgust at the people who passed him. They were unaware of the incredible danger they were in. How, with the flick of his hand, they would be screaming in pain, or worse. A beggar grabbed his robes, mumbling in a thick Scottish accent that left her near unintelligible with her toothless mouth. The man sneered at her, pulling away violently and mumbling a curse under his breathe. The woman would be dead within the hour, and hopefully he'd be gone from such a wretched place before then.

He finally found what he was looking for. Between a small pub and a Muggle family owned shoe store, there was what appeared to be an empty lot. Windows boarded up with plywood, spotted with peeling paint and rusted hinges. Voldemort found himself impressed with the charm work surrounding the building - that it could fool even him.

If he hadn't already known it was there.

He pushed through the charms quickly. Before his eyes the building changed into something a bit more familiar. A large wrought iron gate in front of a posh looking home. The front door had a simple bronze knocker made out of a coat of arms with a motto written underneath. Loyal au mort. The gate didn't do much in stopping him but would keep out any wayward muggles who had managed to see through the spells.

He didn't knock. Lord Voldemort didn't knock - he simply opened the door and walked through, no emotion on his face as he studied the decor. It was classical in origin, with Corinthian columns with red white and black frescos throughout the grand entrance hall. The paintings on the wall, mostly the ancestors of the home's inhabitants, watched him with curious looks as he entered into their family home.

He heard the sound of footsteps on a marble floor, and stayed still, allowing the witch or wizard to approach him. A moment later the footsteps slowed, and then stilled.

"My Lord?"

Voldemort recognized the voice of the Matriarch of the House: Isla Adair.

He turned, smirking at her as he laid on his charm. Despite his age, he still maintain a sense of his youth. The only hint of the years dark magic had taken on his soul were the two piercing red eyes that sometimes slitted when his rage overtook him.

The woman, on the other hand, was getting on in age, her dark black hair was stripped with white and the lines on her face were more and more obvious. She was no longer the great beauty she'd been when they'd attended Hogwarts together, back when she was Isla Sinclair, the heir to the Sinclair fortune. She had married one Andrew Adair, a Ravenclaw whose family name had a dwindling fortune but far more influence than the Sinclairs, especially in Scotland.


A second later a young man came out of the side room, a curious frown on his face. He scanned the room and Voldemort could feel when his eyes found him.

The man walked over to his mother, "Who's this?"

Isla stiffened, "Gavin. This is The Dark Lord."

Voldemort flicked his eyes to the young man, Gavin Adair, and watched for his reaction. The Adair's were a valuable ally for him, and he was curious to see if their support would continue down their line. However Gavin Adair's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied him, and Voldemort could see his lips purse slightly. But despite this he still bowed and offered a quiet, "My Lord."

Voldemort was appeased, for now. But he knew that he was going to have to test his loyalties.

"If I may ask..." Isla seemed a bit worried, and her eyes kept shifting back towards the room the two had appeared from, "What brings you to our home, My Lord?"

Voldemort tilted his head, wondering what it was they were trying to hide from him. No matter, he would find out eventually, "Is now a bad time?"

"Of course not, My Lord." Isla quickly assured him, "You're always welcome."

Voldemort smirked to himself, but then decided to ease her nerves, "Do not worry Mrs. Adair, I'm actually here to speak to your husband."

"Andy?" Isla looked surprised, but a few moments later nodded, "Very well. He's in his study. Gavin, why don't you show the Dark Lord the way?"

Voldemort raised his eyebrow at the hostile tone the older woman took on as she spoke to her son. Gavin Adair flinched, but gave his mother a soft smile - obviously the tension was one sided. "Of course mother."

The younger Adair bowed and held out his hand, allowing Voldemort to walk first. Voldemort kept to himself and allowed himself to be guided.

He'd been curious when Andrew Adair had contacted him. When they'd attended Hogwarts the man had never been interested in joining him. The Ravenclaw had been a few years older than him and it hadn't been until after Hogwarts, and after his marriage to Isla, that the man had finally agreed to join his cause. But Andrew Adair was from a very old Pureblood family, and he followed very old traditions and forms of magic. He preferred to lend his money and influence rather than joining him in raids and attacks. Voldemort didn't mind, the man was gaining in years after all, and unlike him he wasn't immortal.

Perhaps he would request his son join him on his next attack. A test of loyalty from both of them.

Adair stopped at a double dark oak door with bronze handles. He knocked a few times, "Father?"

A low voice came from within, "Enter."

Adair opened the door and quickly moved out of the way, tilting his head down as the Dark Lord passed him, entering the room.

Andrew Adair hadn't aged well - his smoking habit had caught up with him and Voldemort wrinkled his nose at the smell of the filthy muggle habit. His skin had yellowed over the years and his lips were cracked and bleeding. His hair had thinned out and was combed over and away from his face. He wore layered silk robes in a deep green colour which hardly suited him well. No doubt he had chosen the colour in an attempt to appease him.

"My Lord." Andrew stood up, bowing respectfully. He then turned to his son, his eyes growing cold, "You may leave us."

Once again, Adair the younger flinched, his eyes filled with sadness and regret, "Of course Father, My Lord." He bowed, then quickly left.

Voldemort walked around the study, which was lit only by a fireplace against the wall. Above it were several photos, all smiling and waving at him. A picture of his son, another one of two girls - twins. Several pictures of Isla, and in the middle, in a place of honour, was picture of a young child, no older than 3 or 4. Her hair was pulled back into a neat bow with bangs going over her forehead. Her eyes were black and she gave a wide smile, showing her small baby teeth and gripping a small stuffed unicorn.

"Your Granddaughter?" Voldemort asked the man, curious to see his reaction. The old man's eyes softened as he looked at the photo, something which Voldemort put away for later dissection.

"Yes." Andrew smiled softly, before his eyes turned dark, "My only progeny that hasn't been a monumental disappointment."

Voldemort hummed. He knew the man's twin's daughters had rejected Voldemort's ideas and had joined the Order of the Phoenix, "Your son seemed loyal enough."

Andrew snorted, "Hardly, he's simply not an idiot. I had hope for him, I did. He did well in school, had the best kind of friends, married well. But it seems his mind's been poisoned by blood traitors and mudbloods and Dumbledore's people. He hasn't outright joined the Order, but I know he's leaning that direction."

"Hmmm." Voldemort was displeased by this. "And his wife?"

"Moira MacPherson." He answered, "An old pureblood family, but they've been dwindling recently. He married for love, the fool." Andrew scoffed. "I've already written him out of the will. Everything will go to my Granddaughter, given that she's raised proper."

"You plan to raise her?" Voldemort asked.

Andrew nodded, "Of course."

"And your son?"

Andrew shook his head, "He mustn't be allowed to continue down this traitorous path."

Voldemort stayed silent, catching Andrew's eye as he scanned his mind. The man was loyal to the point of insanity, willing to sacrifice his only son and heir for the cause. It made Lord Voldemort grin.

"Be sure you raise her better than your other children." Voldemort bit out, "Your family is very important to my cause."

Andrew Adair simultaneously bristled and swelled up with pride, "Of course My Lord, thank you My Lord."

Voldemort nodded, "As for your request?"

Andrew Adair nodded quickly, straightening, "Of course. Well then, let's get down to business."

Elspeth Adair didn't understand what was happening. She knew her daddy was sad. He wasn't smiling like he had been before and his eyebrows were together and full of sadness. Elle reached her small pudgy hands up and tried to smooth the lines between them. Her daddy smiled at her again and she beamed back at him, wrapping her small arms around his neck. She loved her daddy.

Her grand-mammy was sad too, or mad? She wasn't good at emotions yet. But she knew that she wasn't happy.

She felt something weird. Her small three year old mind wasn't really sure what it was, but it made her happy. It was like a warm fuzzy feeling on the edge of her mind, like when her blanket got all staticy and she knew if she touched it it would hurt. She wondered if she followed the fuzzy feeling if it would hurt the same way.

There was a small chime that echoed around the room. Daddy looked up, and his frown came back. He looked over at Grand-mammy, who glared at him, before turning back to doting on her granddaughter.

Daddy looked down at her and Elle reached her hands up, wanting to be held. Daddy grabbed her hands and pressed small kisses into her palms. "Daddy loves you darling. Ill be right back."

Elle believed him. Of course she did - why wouldn't he be? Daddy always kept hi promising.

Which is why, when a few moments later, when a loud piercing scream echoed around the room, Elle didn't pay any mind. She just looked up and watched as her Grand-mammy quickly waved her wand and everything went quiet again.

She wondered if Daddy had found the weird fuzzy feeling.

She continued to play with her blocks, not caring much about what was happening in the house. Her Grand-mammy made the blocks float and she giggled as she reached up to catch them.

Moments later Grand-mammy paused and looked out towards the door of the room. She was silent, and there was an empty look on her face. She leaned down to Elle and pressed a kiss to her face.

"Elspeth, stay here. Grandmother will be right back."

Elle nodded, more interested in her blocks.

Grand-mammy nodded and went out into the hallway

Elle played for a bit more, until the fuzzy feeling came back. It was stronger than before. She giggled as the blocks in front of her started to float like how Grand-mammy made them. She stood up and started to dance around them.

The fuzzy feeling paused, and she turned her head. It was outside the door. She beamed, feeling a burst of something like happiness and skipped to the door. She reached up on her tip toes and grabbed the handle, pulling it open. She poked her head out and smiled when she saw her Grand-mammy speaking with a man. He wore a big cloak and had dark hair which curled like her dolls. She loved it.

The man was the source of the fuzzy feeling. She walked closer to him, a bit hesitant. She wondered if it would hurt to touch him.

She came up close to him, and reached out, gripping the edge of his robe.

The whole room froze. She heard her Grand-mammy gasp, her eyes wide as she looked down at her granddaughter. The man was looking down at her, one of his eyebrows was raised and he seemed almost unsettled by the sight of a small child holding onto him.

"Elspeth!" Her grand-mammy snapped, looking horrified "I told you to stay put!"

Elle didn't care though. Instead she looked up at the man with the funny red eyes and smiled at him, waving. He was the source of the fuzziness in the air. She was sure of it.

The man was silent for a moment, before he bend down so he was eye level with the small girl. She beamed at him, completely unaware of the danger she had just found herself in. She wanted to reach forward and press her pudgy hands to his face, but a stern look from her Grand-mammy made her pause. Instead she just fiddled with the edge of his black cloak. It was soft, and warm and she wanted to curl up inside of it.

He reached up and trailed a finger down her cheek, smirking as a trail of still warm blood followed. Ellie wrinkled her nose, but otherwise wasn't bothered by the warm wetness on her cheek.

Then he suddenly stood up, turning to look at her Grand-mammy with a smirk on his face.

"Your family's support is very important to my cause." His words had the consistency of thick honey, full of praise and warmth. He looked back down at Ellie for a moment, then back to Isla, "Raise her well'

"Of course my Lord." Her Grand-mammy paused for a moment, "Will you be staying here long?"

"No." He turned and glanced at an old ornate grandfather clock, "I have an...appointment."

Her Grand-mammy nodded, curtseying politely, "It's been an honour my Lord."

He gave them one last look, using his wand to vanish the blood on his hands and robes, before smirking at the blood smudge on the girl's face. She watched him with wide innocent eyes that held no inkling that the blood on her face belonged to her father.

He gave one last smirk towards Isla Adair, and her granddaughter, before he headed to the door. Thunder burst across the sky, and like a switch had been flicked the skies opened up and rain started to pour down upon the people below.

Voldemort chuckled. Tonight he would become immortal.

He offered one last word before he headed out into the black night, towards his destiny.

"Happy Hallowe'en."

A/N: Hello and welcome to my OC-Stravaganza where I post all the OC fics I found on my computer while I was cleaning it up. I actually have been working on this story for a long ass time so I would love to actually finish this one (finishing a fic? Don't know her).

This is actually more of an prologue than a first chapter, but the first chapter didn't feel done to me to I'm just posting this today.

Everyone is free to follow me on tumblr amarysue.

Until Next Time,