Hello all! Welcome to my first story ever! Whoo hoo! Good times! Good times! Anywhoo! I'd first and foremost like to say thank you sooooooo much for even just clicking over here to check out my little piece - o - fiction and I hope you enjoy it!

Right now, this is sort of like a pilot episode of a TV show… I'll definitely continue with it, especially if you guys like it (and especially because I'm already working out much for the future of this fic!) but the next installment might take a bit of time, but I'll try not to take too long!

I am open to all sorts of reviews and whatnot, especially flames! If you hate it, tell me about it! Then I can fix it and have a good laugh at myself in the process! I love to laugh at myself… it's just so much fun!

Also! I do not own anything Harry Potter related… if I did, man, I would not be the semi-poor person that I am! It all belongs to the fabulous Ms. Rowling… man, she's awesome!

With that said and with you ready to read…

Darkness fell,

The sky descended,

And the trees surrounding him grew closer,

stifling the air, leaving him claustrophobic. The brittle leaves shattered beneath his frail, exhausted body, pressing into his cheek like jagged bits of glass while the blood from scar seeped over the forest floor. Blood was pouring from the gash that stretched from the base of his neck on the left side, wrapping around from his throat, to the base of his head on the right, matting his hair down and oozing until his neck was coated with the sticky substance. The collar of his robes and shirt were stained from the mass of life's blood that ran freely from him and he wouldn't have noticed the footsteps crunching nearer if his opened scar hadn't begun to burn with a ferocity that had never been felt before.

The figure, shroud in black with his hood up, approached him gingerly, but the many onlookers could see the eagerness radiating from him and he took a knee next to the quiet, still, yet crying figure lying thrashed and beaten on the forest floor. His arm lay partly in the muddy lake, his hand feebly grasping at the reeds, desperately trying to hold on to his life.

"Now, Potter, you couldn't believe that I'd never get you," came the cold voice above him, "that I wouldn't be waiting for them to take their eyes off of you for just one feeble second? Oh no, I've been waiting for this for fourteen long years, and I'm going to enjoy it."

With that, the figure removed his hood and the man's pupils flashed in the moonlight and the Death Eaters bowed their heads and crouched down to one knee. Voldemort leaned over him, placing one hand on the ground between Harry's body and his arm floating in the leaf-strewn lake so that he almost hovered above him. He was so close Harry could feel his breath on his face, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named leaned down ever closer. Amidst the monstrous pain that shot through his head, making his scar bleed even more profusely, he could feel it: the wet, forked, sandpaper tongue that ran up the gash across his neck, leaving the feeling of dripping poison in his skin and he cried out horribly into the night.

"Stop it! Please!" he screamed but the pain from his scar overpowered him and all he could do was whimper and whisper, nausea threatening to overtake him. "Please…" and he shuddered as sandpaper again dripped poison into his system. He could feel the muscles in his neck give way, all of his muscles giving up hope, and his face pressed harder into the crackling, black earth. His head was swimming but the sandpaper had stopped scratching him leaving portions on his crevassed neck feeling cold and exposed instead of warm as the heated, thick fluid had once warmed it.

"I've never tasted anything so rich, Potter, as the blood that brought me back to life," he said as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "you'll have to give me the recipe." And at this serene sarcasm, as if from miles away, Harry could hear laughter from the ring that surrounded them and Voldemort's evil hiss filled his ear once more, "I never would have though that stupid Evans girl would have been of any use, or anything more that a nuisance. You'll have to thank her for me when you see her. You won't have to wait much longer it seems," he softly laughed, seeing the blood that pooled from Harry's forehead and the rest of his body. It had begun to trickle down to the edge of the black lake, swirling red within its darkness.

'Hogwarts. Hogwarts. Just think of Hogwarts, Harry, come on. You have to make it through this!'

"And your precious school? Oh, Harry, not even that is safe from me anymore. What do think I've been doing all this time? Waiting and watching the years go by? Yes, I was in hiding, biding my time like some lower animal, but I had thoughts to keep me company. Oh yes, so many thoughts. They drifted to everything. The world, the times, even my family and my idiot father who left me nothing! But do you think that my ancestor, Salazaar Slytherin, would have left me with nothing? Oh, no, dear boy, he left me with more than I could have ever asked for…" and his silky, hissing voice leaned down until Harry could feel his lips brushing his ear, "He gave me Hogwarts."

'No,' the younger desperately thought amidst the pain and shaking, 'It can't be true… how could it be true?'

"How could it be true? That's what you're thinking, I'm sure. Fools, every one of you. Do you honestly think that the creators of our schools, our institutions that we," and he chuckled beneath his breath, "that we trust our children to wouldn't have left any hints or clues as to the spells that they placed on them? In case they should need to be repaired?" he added as innocently as he foul breath could muster. "No symbols or fairy stories?" and his innocent voice suddenly turned deep and menacing, "Or diaries?"

"If you were really as smart as think you are, Potter," he sped up, spitting out Harry's name like a disease, "you would have seen this by now. Even that stupid Granger girl didn't see it. Didn't you ever wonder how I knew how to open the Chamber of Secrets all those many years ago?

"My grandfather Slytherin of many generations left a diary, a journal, of the secrets of Hogwarts and its spells, enchantments, rooms and passageways. Oh, I read those pages thousands of times as a boy, waiting for the day when I would be strong enough to overtake it, to make it my own!" and he was excited now. "But then you came along," he spat, rising up now from the ground at Harry's side, and he began pacing, circling him as Harry's tears started to form. "Yes you, and you drew away my power just when I was strong enough to use it, and so for these past fourteen years, I've done nothing but bend my will to survive, and bend my mind to those pages. I practically memorized that book as a child and every word of it still resounds clearly in my head. Your precious school will not survive, Potter, and all of those that you love and hold dear will crumble in the ashes along with it!"

"No!" was the only reply that Harry could muster, feeble though it was, through his aching tears that slipped innocently into his blood. He knew he was losing it, his battle for his life. "Dumbledore…"

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" he growled at him, "But no, not even he can save Hogwarts now. With my powers returned and my subjects beside me, your world will shatter, my dear boy, and there is nothing you can do to save it."

The edges of his vision grew black and it was slowly spreading over his mind. Even the thought of returning to Hogwarts to warn them of the death that lay ahead couldn't keep him from slipping slowly into the darkness. His grasp on the reeds was beginning to loosen, but he refused to let them go. He coughed through the blood that was invading his lungs, taking in forced, quavering breaths, and Voldemort only watched him as if watching some child playing at putting together a puzzle.

The darkness was overcoming him, his sensations were fleeting, but just before his hearing deserted him entirely, he could hear and feel what felt like thousands of animals galloping through the trees, splashing through the water and voices, so many loud voices yelling and stampeding.

The stars crashed from the heavens all around him. The crunching of the leaves grew louder and louder in his ears and the ground shook beneath him even as he felt something sliding along the leaves, stopping as it collided against him, sending the leaves around him scattering in the wind. A hand clenched tightly over the crevasse that was still fountaining blood onto the innocent leaves that lay dying on the forest floor. Another hand searched frantically over his body as a voice called to him, finally holding his face up from the ground.

"Harry! Harry! C'mon Harry, stay awake! Don't leave me now, Harry! Don't leave me!" But the urgent voice was loosing meaning and the words streamed together in a blur and a haze. Harry swallowed hard and thickly, painfully coughing into the cold hand that held him. "Remus! Over here, quickly! Speak to me, Harry, come on, talk to me!" But the darkness had come. "I think we're losing him!" the voice called. And the darkness enveloped him, and the quiet reigned throughout the night.

So, whatcha think? Too much information for the first round, or are you intrigued? Tell me what ya think! Whether it be, "Way cool!" "Your story blows!" or "Dude, I could REALLY go for some cheese fries right now!" Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!

~TiniTinuviel