Diagon Alley => Flourish and Blotts => Topic started by: SeaShelly3 on August 05, 2004, 10:07:18 PM

Title: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: SeaShelly3 on August 05, 2004, 10:07:18 PM
I've never written any HP fanfics, because I've never had a story jump out at me, but this one came to me so strongly last night that I had to write it. It's a little bit different, because it's not an original story, instead I've decided to write the same story in a different POV. It starts at the end of GoF, and will end at the end of OoP. I'll post it one chapter at a time. It's untitled so far, but I'd be happy to take suggestions if you've got them. Hope you like it!



His scream of fury filled the dark graveyard, and he whipped around to face the men in masks. Even with their faces hidden, the fear they felt was palpable, thick upon the air.
They had good reason to fear.
Nobody was quite clear exactly what happened next; it all blurred into a red and black haze of pain, but each Death Eater was certain that the Dark Lord was displeased. The fact that all thirteen of them could have let Harry Potter escape was enough to make their master livid.
And one repeatedly shouted word shone through the haze of pain, and left a permanent imprint on their minds, and made sure that none of them ever forgot that night.

Chapter One: The Mistake He Didn’t Make

The Dark Lord sank down upon the filthy, moth-eaten chair. He could not believe that the place was still here, but after all, who would have found it? He himself was the secret-keeper of it’s location, and whom had he had the chance to tell in the last thirteen years? Nevertheless, the many mice, rats, and bugs that were infesting the place had done damage all on their own; hardly a single piece of furniture in the place was left unchewed. He turned his gaze yet again upon his hands, turning them over in the pale light of the candlelit room. I’d almost forgotten what it’s like, being in a proper body, he thought. Suddenly, the door on the opposite side of the room creaked slowly open, and a small man with watering eyes entered the room, holding his silver right hand in his other.
   As he approached the tall chair which held his master, he sank to his knees. He seemed to be carefully deciding what to say next, and this was no surprise; he too had felt the wrath of the Dark Lord at the graveyard. Voldemort simply glared at the back of his bowed head with cold eyes for several moments.
   “My Lord,” he finally muttered. “I-uh… was j-just w-wondering… if y-you wanted an-anything and- uh...”
   The man sitting in the chair felt a particularly strong stab of annoyance at the stuttering, blibbering excuse for a man kneeling at the foot of his chair. “Get out! He shrieked, scarlet eyes flashing dangerously in the candlelight. “Out of my sight!”
   The stuttering man hastened to obey, and scurried out of the room as fast as his short legs would allow, knocking over a small table on the way.
   “The fool.” The words echoed on the empty walls of the chamber, as the one who had spoken them stood up gracefully to right the table. He slowly walked toward the table, and noticed a small book, bound in leather and bearing on its cover an imprint of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. He flipped through the book with interest, and headed back to the chair, waving his wand lazily to upright the table. He sat back into the chair and flipped to the middle of the book. It had been thirteen years since he had written in it, after all.

 17 Apr. 1980
The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches… born as the seventh month dies. It means me. Someone’s going to be born in three months who’ll be able to kill me. But who? I don’t think it matters much now, he’s not even born yet, but this is something to keep an eye on.

   He flipped forward through a few pages of plans for overthrowing the ministry, taking over the school, etcetera, and stopped on a page further back.

3 Aug. 1980
Born as the seventh month dies. I had Rookwood steal a copy of the birth registry. There were only two wizarding kids born last week. One was born to Frank and Alice Longbottom, I remember them, all right. And one to James and Lily Potter. Which one is it, though?

Flipping forward again, he found the next entry of interest.

18 Oct. 1980
Alas! A day to remember! A new death eater comes to our ranks, and he has valuable new information. Mr. Pettigrew brought me some information about the parents of one of the kids born in July. He was friends with their dad in school, and has, with persuasion, agreed to get me more insider information as my spy. James and Lily; though I’ve already had the displeasure of meeting them, I didn’t know they were head boy and girl at that wretched school, and that Lily’s a mudblood. So, the kid's half-blood then, no? Hmm…

His blood was beginning to boil, but he pressed on, trying to see where he had made his mistake. He flipped straight to the last entry in the book.

31 Oct. 1981
It’s decided then. I’ll kill the Potter boy. They’re hiding in Godric’s Hollow. They foolishly made Pettigrew their secret-keeper, who of course came straight to me with his new information. I’m off right now to remove them from the picture. Maybe afterward I’ll pick off the other kid, with just enough time for tea at headquarters after that.

The rest of the pages were blank, of course. What happened that night in Godric’s Hollow? He racked his brain to remember every detail. Nothing out of the ordinary, as far as he could remember. Killed the man, killed the lady, killed the baby… except it didn’t work. Of course, the foolish mudblood had died for the Potter boy, but what was it going to take to get rid of him now? He thought hard about what to do. The idea came to him in a flash so sudden and bright you could almost see the lightbulb above his head. The prophecy. There must have been more to it. Of course Severus wouldn’t have been able to hear the whole thing, they had thrown him out. The thought of Severus made him even angrier. Perhaps Severus had, even then, been working for that mudblood-lover, Albus Dumbledore. Either way, it had been Snape who had, in an indirect way, caused his downfall. How dare he? thought the Dark Lord. He would make Snape pay, he would make Dumbledore pay, and most of all, he would finally kill that wretched Potter boy. But now he had a new driving ambition. He would get his hands on that prophecy, and discover the remainder of the secret, whatever it took.


I know I'm taking a risk, giving YKW personality, but this was screaming to be written. I'd be happy for feedback, and any positive or negative comments you've got. Also, I've already found one mistake I made, so if you see any other glaring errors, I'd like to know, even if it means revealing my idiocy.  ;D
Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: Deedra Malfoy on August 06, 2004, 01:20:32 PM
Very ingenious. I never thought LV would actually have a personality, but you're doing just fine.
Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: SeaShelly3 on August 06, 2004, 11:16:36 PM
Chapter 2: The Locked Door

The hall was alive with whispered conversation. The thirteen Death Eaters had gathered in the dining hall of headquarters and grouped together in typical circular formation. The tones of all the voices sounded menacing. Someone in the group had been clever enough to work out some of the missing Death Eaters’ identities. They knew that there were a dozen of their ranks still in Azkaban, and several others dead, but that did not account for Igor and Severus.
Suspicions abounded. Of course, they said, Snape worked at that pathetic school, Dumbledore must have gotten to him. Severus was nothing more than a mudblood-loving-muggle-hugging-headmaster’s-pet now. At least that was the opinion reflected in the whispered conversations. As for Karkaroff, information was being passed around the circle that he was a headmaster at Durmstrang. Why, then, had he not answered the summons of their master? And who had delivered the Potter boy to the graveyard? Silence fell abruptly as the chamber door creaked ominously open, and in stepped the man with scarlet eyes.
He slowly walked around the circle, focusing his attention on each masked Death Eater as he passed, but saying nothing. He stopped for a moment when he got to Wormtail, and looked like he was about to speak, but instead shook his head and continued prowling the circle. When he had made a full circuit, he passed to the middle of the circle between Malfoy and Macnair. After another long moment of silence, in which each Death Eater began to sweat, Voldemort finally spoke.
He explained the situation to his followers, including Bartemius Crouch Jr.’s presence at Hogwarts, the plan he had executed during the Hogwarts Triwizard tournament, and the fact that Crouch Jr. had been attacked by a dementor.
“It is time,” he said, “to take charge of this world yet again. Too long have our enemies been in power. We must act. However-“
At this, he threw down a copy of the Daily Prophet, the front cover of which was decorated with a dual picture; one of Cornelius Fudge, the other of Albus Dumbledore. Fudge looked livid, and was shaking his fist toward Dumbledore’s photo. Dumbledore looked serenely confident as usual. The headline read, in bold, black letters, Dumbledore Insists Dark Lord Returned.
“Potter must have told Dumbledore once he got back, but the Ministry doesn’t believe it. I shall need those of you involved with the Ministry to encourage this story.
He continued on in this form for some time. Laying out plans for the future. Their main objectives, he said, were to remain undetected, to recruit the giants and dementors, and, most importantly, the obtain the prophecy. After he had laid down their plans, he sent them home with the order to be available to return at any moment.
He swept from the chamber, head abuzz. Wormtail followed close behind, but plainly his master was in no mood to talk, for he shut the door behind him in Wormtail’s face.
“Of course,” he said to himself, abandoning the use of his sleek language. Sometimes it was exhausting to have to weigh every word before he said it. “the Order of the Phoenix must be back. Dumbledore’ll already have reformed it. Gotta send someone out to talk to the giants. Dementors’ll be tougher, don’t know how I’ll get in there. I’ll need to get some info of how to get the prophecy out of the Department of Mysteries. Avery might know.”
In this manner, he settled down in his chair and drifted into an uneasy sleep. It had been so many years since he’d slept well, and today was no different. He knew the inside of the Ministry well, having broken into it some seventeen years previously, and tonight he dreamed of the place he desired entry to. The Department of Mysteries. Why, though, could he not get through the door? He stared at the blank door with longing for what seemed like hours. When he awoke, however, he saw that only forty-five minutes had passed since he had drifted off. He shook it off as best he could, but the dream had left a horrible, unsettled feeling, and, try as he might, he was unable to get back to sleep. What did he know that hundred of miles away, the boy named Harry Potter was sharing the same dream?

Ugh, this always happens to me. I'm already starting to look at this and think I swear this wasn't so cheesy when I first wrote it!!
However, I'm determined to finish it, so I'm going to quicken up the pace a bit through the next chapters.
Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: SeaShelly3 on August 07, 2004, 08:08:16 PM
Chapter 3: The Months Ahead

The unsettling dream continued nearly every night, and it did not help matters that the door was all he thought about during the day. Nevertheless, there were much more pressing matters to attend to, and he kept his Death Eaters so busy that many were having trouble at their workplaces with continued absence. Not one dared to complain about conditions, knowing that things could become much worse if they did. The Dark Lord was moody, sometimes flying into fits of rage over minor setbacks, other times showing no emotion at all, and still others seeming to be unstoppable. It was during these latter times that he seemed to become fascinated with his own appearance. Either he would gaze at his long-fingered hands, or he would look at himself in the mirror, tracing the outline of his snakelike face with his finger. The others could only imagine what was going through his mind as he did this, but they supposed that he was still in shock over receiving his body back after all those years of helplessness.
He sent Avery and Macnair on a mission to recruit the giants, and he sent Nott and Crabbe and Goyle to Azkaban to make contact with the Dementors. The former group succeeded, with the news that Dumbledore’s Order had tried the same thing and failed. This news made the Dark Lord pleased almost to the point of rapture, and he praised Macnair and Avery for their job well done, which in itself was extraordinarily rare, but what made it even more fascinating was the fact that he did so repeatedly over the next three days. Something was different about the Dark Lord, that was for sure, and darned if the Death Eaters knew what to think about this change in their master’s personality.
The other mission was an entirely different story, of course. Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle had come back shaking from the dementor encounter, and as far as Voldemort could tell from their blibbering, they hadn’t even been able to muster up the courage to speak to the twelve foot tall dementors. This news was not taken well at all. By the time the three of them had come back from their master’s chamber, they were shaking even worse than when they had returned from Azkaban, eyes wide open and mouths clamped shut.

He sat in his private chamber, after once again awaking from looking at that accursed door. There had been another part of the dream that time, but the details were slipping away. He recognized his father’s graveyard, and he remembered a great sense of shock as he looked at a dead boy with wavy blonde hair. Then… he just couldn’t remember. This dream fazed him even more than the dream about the Department of Mysteries. Why would he feel so shook up about one dead kid, when he had seen hundreds before? The dream lingered in the back of his mind all day.
Later, he again sat in his chamber and picked up the Daily Prophet. He glanced at the date on the top. August 2. Not that it mattered, but he liked to know what day it was. He flipped absently through the paper, smirking once or twice at a reference to “crazy” Harry Potter. They think he’s insane, do they? All the better for me. He glanced at the clock. Quarter after nine. He yawned and thought Maybe I’ll turn in early today.
Just as he was getting ready to do so, he felt a strange leaping jolt in his chest that eliminated all desire for sleep. He sat up straight and looked around wildly. Was it a jinx? Who had found him? It took a moment to realize that he was totally alone; even Wormtail had gone out scavenging with the rats. Then what had that been? He pondered it for a while, and finally, with a shock of recognition, grasped it; it had been fear. It had been so long since he’d felt terror like that. Yet what was there to be scared of here? He slowly got off the ratted mattress on the ground and made his way to his high-backed chair in the center of the room. He still had not gotten around to fixing anything, but in his restless state, now seemed the perfect time to do so. He inserted his long finger into a deep pocket and withdrew his wand. He waved it once, and the chair was free of holes and brightly colored again. Another wave, and the chamber was free of dust and debris. One more, and his bed was repaired. He cast a sideways glance at his wand, recalling the day young Tom had wandered into Ollivander’s to purchase it. Thirteen and a quarter inches. Yew. Containing one phoenix tail feather. Strange; he rarely ever thought about his childhood anymore. Thinking of his wand called forth another, more recent, memory. He remembered the night of his rebirth; why had his wand behaved so strangely? Why hadn’t he been able to dispose of the Potter boy then? It would have made things so much simpler. He could not remember ever experiencing anything like it before, and he hadn’t liked it at all. He lay back on his newly repaired bed, his thoughts buzzing in his head like angry wasps. He wasn’t aware of drifting off to sleep, but before he knew it, he was back in the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries.

Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: Tiamat on August 10, 2004, 04:00:39 AM

Um...I've been wanting to do something like this forever, but I never got up the guts, so you can do it instead ;)

Of COURSE Voldemort has personality. A good villian....little oxymoron there...needs depth. Personality. Development. JKR doesn't make static, one-sided villains. I mean, look at all of them. And yet NO ONE, almost, writes fanfic from the HP villans' points of view. And even fewer write good ones.

So don't you dare feel embarassed. Keep writing it!

Uh...I was going to say soemthing constructive here, but I forgot it. Oh well, later :)
Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: SeaShelly3 on August 10, 2004, 10:14:54 PM
Thanks, Tia. ^__^

I have the beginnings of Chapter 4 written, but I don't know how long its going to be, because I'm going to start first-drafting it in longhand. This is partly because it will lower the amount of stupid mistakes I make with my facts (I forgot what tree YKW's wand was made of) and partly because my dad has decided to start limiting my computer time to half an hour a day, so I want to have all the time I'm on dedicated to constructinve typing, rather than staring at a blank screen. (Wow, how's that for a run-on sentence?) ^_^

I think I can finish chapter four in longhand tonight and get it typed up and posted tomorrow, but don't quote me on that.  :-\

I notice only the Slytherins are enjoying this.  :laugh:
Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: Cho Chung on August 10, 2004, 10:45:30 PM

I love it, too, Shelly!  It's a fantastic idea writing from LV's POV.  I have to admit, I don't think of him as having much personality, either, and the idea of being in his head is just plain radical!  Somehow, he seems less evil when I can see his thoughts.  I don't know if that's good or bad, just a fact for me.

I also didn't quite picture his "operation" as quite so centralized as you make it -- again, just a difference in imagination.  But I am certainly finding it intriguing.  You're doing great, Shelly!  Keep at it.
Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: Deedra Malfoy on August 11, 2004, 04:14:37 PM
Well, I;m not going to say I'm sorry for being a Slytherin, But I will ignore your comment.

It;s going really well. Keep it up!!
Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: SeaShelly3 on August 18, 2004, 12:20:35 AM
So much for "tomorrow", huh? Sorry, guys.

In case it particularly matters to anyone, I decided to change the format of the story; each to the "chapters" I've posted so far are now just parts 1, 2, and 3 to the first chapter. This one I'm posting now is chapter one, part 4, and I'm starting work on chapter 2, part one. Not that this make a big difference, but it's a lot less hassle on FanFiction.net to post a few large chapters than to post four billion little chapters.  ;D

I.iv. What they shared

“You are sure of your facts, Avery?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“That ministry workers are able to remove the prophecies?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Then removing the prophecy will be simple, of course.”
“Yes. It would be quite easy to place the Imperius Curse on a Ministry official. I could do it, my Lord, and it would be simple to have them deliver it to us, and then place a Memory Charm upon them.”
“No, we would need to remove them from the picture. It would mean revealing ourselves, but it’s no matter, as long as I get that prophecy.”
“Shall I do it now, my Lord?”
“No. Send for Malfoy.”
Avery bowed out of the room, leaving the Dark Lord alone in the candlelit chamber. If Avery was correct, then it would be cake to remove the prophecy. He reflected on the plan for a full minute, trying to see it from every point of view, and make sure there were no flaws, before the great iron door swung open with the usual ominous creak. A masked man entered swiftly and knelt at the chair with a practiced motion.
“Ah, Lucius, you’re here. I need you to perform a task for me.”
But the voice that came from behind the mask did not belong to Lucius Malfoy.
“My Lord,” the voice said silkily, “I have now, at last, returned to your service.”
Shocked silence for a moment. Then the mystery death eater stood and removed the mask, sweeping a lock of greasy black hair out of his eyes.
“Severus…” the throned man said slowly, trying to register the shock of seeing Snape here, after he had been sure that Severus would never return. “What brings you here?” He bit back the other question he was longing to ask. Why now? Why not two months ago when I called?
All thoughts of the prophecy driven far from his mind, Voldemort was in half a mind to kill the two-faced slimeball here and now. He held back, just to hear what Snape had to say for himself.
“My Lord,” came the swift reply, as he answered the question that hadn’t even been asked. “You know I am a teacher at the school now. I would have come immediately at your summons last June, but I could not hope to escape the school under the nose of Dumbledore.”
“Fool. You expect me to believe this nonsense? You were working for Dumbledore for a year before my downfall. You joined the ranks of my enemies and fought against those you once counted allies. You united with my archrival and conspired against me, and leaked my secrets to the one whom wanted them most; don’t deny it! There’s no reason I shouldn’t just kill you now!” His voice rose to dangerous levels as he spoke, and he rose his wand unconsciously as he spoke.
“Ah, but there is a very good reason.” Snape replied without a trace of fear. “Working at the school, I have daily contact with Dumbledore. What’s more, I have earned his trust while you have been away. I am the only one who can give you information from the top-secret dealings of the Order of the Phoenix.
Voldemort started at these words as he realized the potential of such a deal. But was it true? He tried to pry into Snape’s mind to see if he was lying, but all he got was a foggy mass of grey. Curses. Snape’s an occlumens. He hated not knowing when he was being lied to. Nevertheless, here was an invaluable resource at hand, an insider spy on the Order. He weighed his chances. If Snape was still spying for Dumbledore, what would he be able to tell that Dumbledore wouldn’t already have guessed? Dumbledore was clever, more so than he liked to admit; he’d probably already worked out a large number of his plans. Meanwhile, Snape, if he was going to help, would be able to tell him exactly what the Order was doing to counteract his plans. If things started to get out of hand, he could just as easily kill Snape. It was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.
When he looked back at Severus, he was kneeling again with his mask back on his face.
The Dark Lord began to laugh.


Six hours later, he wasn’t laughing anymore. In fact, he didn’t even know where he was. He tried to look around, but he found he wasn’t controlling he neck muscles anymore. He supposed it was another stupid dream. But wait… this wasn’t the same dream he’d had, and besides, who had ever had a dream like this? He walked up a set of stairs into a broad hallway that he had never seen before, a hallway decorated with the shrunken heads of what appeared to be house-elves. He had taken only a few steps when sounds of weeping filled the air. He felt a jolt of panic, then turned to run to another room. A stout red-haired woman was sobbing uncontrollably, aiming her wand at the floor. He looked down on the floor, and lying there, certainly dead, was… someone. He didn’t know who the person was, but at the same time, he felt he did. The red-haired boy lying on the ground evoked a feeling of numb shock, a moment of confusion, then disbelief.
“R-Riddikulus!” sobbed the woman.
The dead boy changed at once into another dead boy, and then a man, and then two boys, and another boy. The process repeated each time. This was obviously a boggart. Finally there was finally one dead body he recognized… Harry Potter.
He felt his own mouth move, and a voice very unlike his own say loudly, “Mrs. Weasley, just get out of here! Let someone else-“
“What’s going on?”
In walked 2 men he had met, and one he knew very well. The traitor Wormtail’s former friends: Black and Lupin were here. He had fought them once years ago, and both had escaped only by the skin of their teeth. The auror, Moody, had, of course, placed many of his most loyal subjects in Azkaban. He hated the sight of all of them. Remus Lupin made short work of the boggart and comforted the crying woman. He wasn’t paying attention any longer, he was straining to see more through the eyes of… whoever he was in.
It was obvious that he was seeing through someone else, and at this point he didn’t care who or how; he knew he was in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and he was anxious to learn as much as possible. He still couldn’t manage to turn his head, or, indeed, move at all. Occasionally he felt his mouth or hand move, but who cares? What was more, he was getting bored with all the whining about kids and dying and blah blah blah. He wished this dumb dream would be over; he wasn’t going to see anymore if he couldn’t move. The sound of his own name jolted him back to his senses.
“…we know what Voldemort’s up to—“
The silly redhead woman let out a ridiculous little squeak that gave him a small twinge of pleasure.
“Oh, Molly, come one, it’s about time you got used to hearing it—look, I can’t promise no one’s going to get hurt, nobody cam promise that, but we’re much better off than we were last time, you weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one....”
He felt a faint sense of recalling something painful, but he was thinking of what the werewolf had said; he was right; his Death Eaters had had much more of an advantage the last time; he tried to think what to do to gain the same advantage this time. He felt his eyes close, and when he opened them, he was staring at the ceiling of his chamber in his own headquarters. It was only then that he started to wonder; how did that happen? He shrugged it off for now; he’d think about it after a more restful sleep. Alas, it was not meant to be, as he was plagued by yet more dreams of long corridors and, strangely enough, prefect badges.

Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: Xan on August 21, 2004, 02:19:29 AM
YAY! A Voldie fic!! ;D >:D

... err ... *cough*


I'm likin' this - can't believe I didn't notice it until now. I absolutely love fics from an evil perspective, and your LV is perfectly believable as both an evil villian and a person.

Gooood stuff! :D
Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: Morrin Midnight on August 24, 2004, 04:54:30 PM
Awsome fic,Shelly

Soon BUMP!
Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: Angelina Tonks on August 25, 2004, 03:06:24 PM
Wow! I like the fic!
It's interesting to see your portrayal of Voldemort's thoughts and stuff. ;D
Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: Saffron Lotus on September 02, 2004, 05:05:20 PM
Hey Shelly,  This is really fun.  Looking forward to the next chapter...
Title: Re: Having a try at HP Fanfiction...
Post by: RSM on October 11, 2004, 04:27:29 PM
If you ever need Fan-Fic help Shelly just ask me i write my own Fan Fic stories.. you can read them if you'd like.. here is the link..


there are currently 13 in the series..
Title: Having a try at HP Fanfiction
Post by: Xylifrost on January 20, 2011, 09:50:33 PM
Kindly note that this thread is for recommendations only. Negative comments on any fanfic written by a CoS member will lead to the closure of the thread.