Chapter 1 - Upon the Darkest Hour

[DarkChild]

*Chapter One*

Upon the Darkest Hour

The darkest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close as the sky transformed from its inky black to a wondrous display of bright, beautiful colors that stretched themselves blearily across the large, stately mansions of Salazar’s Hollow.

Now normally, every wizard and witch who lived in the community, at sundown would be in their own houses, conversing nonchalantly about wizards or witches that had been killed or they had killed. However, lying beneath a stained-glass window of the Malfoy Manor, was the only pedestrian out at this time of night. His name was, William Malfoy.

William Malfoy was eleven years old, and in that short space of time, he had already become nonexistent to his parents, Draco and Pansy. Even William didn’t know what he had done wrong to deserve not a word from his own parents. William, or Will, as he referred himself to, looked like a portrait of his father. He had the same blonde hair that grew like a field of wheat; never having been given a proper comb, it stuck up in certain places. He wore the same silvery, soulless eyes that his father had, except they were starved from deprivation. When he was young, he vaguely remembered his eyes resembling something alive, but now as he lay beneath the window, he saw nothing at all. Everything was the same, except for the pale face of Will. Will’s pale face had a bit of pink to it, something his father never had. Not that Will was grateful for it, seeing as he hadn’t spoken to his father or mother in at least five years.

As he lay beneath the window, he heard the drunken howls from the neighborhood. He peeked through the scraggly, unkempt, bushes, although he already knew what was going on. At sundown, the mangled bodies of the witches and wizards who were on Harry Potter’s side that had been killed in that day alone were proudly displayed against the sunset by their murderers, which was accompanied by sickening drunk laughter. His attention was averted from the sickening sight, however, by a voice with laced with rum. Even, though, he, himself had not spoken to the voice, in five years, he knew that the voice belonged to no one else, but his father.

‘’Goyle killed six Aurors today.’‘ he slurred, proudly. ‘’That idiot has ‘proved a lot since ‘Ogwarts.’‘

’‘Za bloke sure ‘as, Malfoy.’‘ said an equally drunken voice that Will didn’t recognize.
‘’Now ‘bout da boy’s Marking.’‘

Will’s ears perked up and his eyebrows raised in unison. He tentatively stretched his own fingers up to the sill of the glass-stained window. He saw rippling images of numerous drunks changing colors as they swaggered from pane-to-pane.

‘’Well, eve’un knows dat da Marking takes places when da kid is at seventeen.’‘ Malfoy boasted. ‘’Bu’ my kid, is special. Even, though I ‘aven’t talked ta da lit’le bastard in four years-‘’
‘’Five.’‘ Will whispered through gritted teeth.

‘’-He’ll be Marked ‘fore he goes ta ‘Ogwarts.’‘ Malfoy said, rather proudly, taking a long swig from a rum bottle.

‘’No.’‘ Will murmured. ‘’No. There’s no way.’‘ Will’s throat was as dry as sandpaper, his tongue was suffocating him as his throat began to close. He brought himself to swallow, and slowly stood up from the cluster of dead, blackened rose bushes he had been concealed by.

Will, then swiftly made his way to the front walkway adorned with the same dying rose bushes as underneath the window. The high-pitched, sickening, drunk laughter plaguing his mind.

‘’No eleven-year-old should have to hear that.’‘ Will murmured, as he got onto all-fours, and shrank beneath the dead rose bushes to the terribly shaken pavement. No sooner had his palm touched the ancient gravel that a thick leather boot graced by a long, billowing black traveling cloak appeared before his splayed fingers with a loud, whip-like crack. The crack tore the air like a gunshot and made everything in Salazar’s Hollow still.

Icy sweat coursing down his body, Will arched his neck to see a tall figure standing before him. The figure said nothing, but a short, evil chuckle issued from its ancient lips. Will could not seeing the figure’s face as the cloak hood was shrouding any physical feature he could possibly have. He was too stunned to move. The figure reached down a spidery, almost pure white hand and grabbed Will by the shirt collar. He was too stunned to talk. The figure lead him up the walkway to the only thing kept up to decency in the mansion- the door. With his other hand, the figure grabbed at the polished, diamond handle and the door opened with a crack that made Will’s stomach drop to his shoes.

The little conversation that had resumed after the arrival of the figure had quieted as the door was opened. The only light came from candle that were charmed to hover slowly around the foyer. The entire party stood still for a brief moment, then Malfoy and Pansy slowly sank into a bow, touching their unkempt marble floor, their arms stretched out before them. They stood up as everyone bowed to the figure.

‘’Master.’‘ said Malfoy softly, cupping his free hand and kissing it, Pansy doing the same.

‘’Rise, all of you!’‘ boomed the figure’s voice. The voice sent chills up Will’s spine, and then he didn’t doubt who it was. The voice was cold, unearthly, and high-pitched. The party arose as one, and the figure stretched up his pure white hand to drew back the hood.

It was Lord Voldemort. His skin was so pale it was almost white. His nose so disfigured it looked like snake’s nostrils. His hands so splayed and skinny looked like a pair of large, skinny spiders. He was completely bald, but his eyes were what announced his fierce terror. His eyes were red. Red enough to be made from the blood of every murder he had committed over the years.

‘’Master.’‘ said Malfoy hoarsely. ‘’Please, Master forgive my son’s presumptuous antics. He is most uncouth.’‘

’‘Accepted, Malfoy.’‘ said Voldemort. ‘’Seeing as you are my right hand it would be utter peril if your son wasn’t in my Army.’‘

’‘Well I don’t want to be in your Army, Voldemort!’‘ Will yelled. ‘’This is a horrible society!’‘

’‘YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD!’‘ Malfoy yelled. He struck Will hard across the face, ripping his shirt and sending him crashing into a glass swan, which shattered immediately. The splinters of glass ripped through his body, stabbing every inch of him. He cried out in pain, as blood poured from every place he could think of, but no one seemed to hear him. The party just laughed and jeered at Will. Malfoy then began hitting Will in every place imaginable. He then threw Will with all the strength he could must at the stairs, staining the marble a deep scarlet from his blood.

‘’GO TO YOUR ROOM AND NEVER COME OUT OR I’LL KILL YOU!’‘ Malfoy yelled. ‘’DIE THERE, BASTARD!’‘ Will turned on his wounded heel and limped up the stairs, grabbing onto the railing and pulling himself up.

An eternity later, he arrived at his room and fell over the threshold. His room was in total disorder; drawers were pulled open, clothes were thrown about the room, his bed was unmade, as his cheap blue wallpaper was peeling around the edges. White-hot pain pulsated through his body like poison. He lay face-down on the floor of his bedroom. His eyes watered with pain. The drunken laughter still rang in his head like a church bell. Will brought himself to stand up and limp over to the only window in his entire room, many panes were missing and those Will had repaired them as best as he could, with bits and bit of clothing. Little sunlight permeated the window.

He then fell backward over the rusted metal bars of his bedframe, slicing open news wounds along his legs. He cried out in pain as his bloodied body settled in his thin, soiled sheets.

He was in a terribly familiar place. He collapsed onto this very bed when he father became drunk (which was often, almost every night) and would hit him. He would lay motionless for hours on end, trying to avoid thinking about the terrible pain that ripped through him as the blood-caked sores stained the already deeply soiled sheets.

He lay, his breathing shallowed as he stared around his bare, blue walls. Will began to cry softly, blinking back the tears as best as he could. All he wanted, was to be loved for once in his life. That’s all he ever wanted, but would never have.

Will struggled to sit up. Then he saw by the meager light, a silhouette against the silver moon. The silhouette got larger and larger until it landed on the sill. It was a beautiful snowy owl, with a letter tied it its leg. Will limped over to the window and undid the knots that held the window together. The owl flew in, and then looked at Will with large amber eyes. Will stroked the owl with a bloodied finger, then carefully undid the letters. The owl puffed out its feathers importantly and then took flight. He then, quickly redid the knots of the windows, before carefully sinking into his soiled bed-sheets once more. There were two letters. One was the acceptance letter to Hogwarts addressed to him in emerald green ink:

Mr. William Malfoy
7 Salazar Way
Small Bedroom
Salazar’s Hollow, Wiltshire

With a trembling finger, and a streak of blood, Will opened the envelope and pulled out the thick parchment. He only had to read:

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

We are pleased to inform that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Before he felt elated for the first time in his life. He brought himself to smile slightly, as he stared up at the bare ceiling. He unfolded the other letter. It was written in an untidy scrawl and said the words:

Come to Sojourn & Colks in London immediately.

Without any further thought, Will folded up the two letters and undid every bit of cloth that held together his window. He slid through the small gap, down the smooth stone roof and disappeared into the darkness, not looking back.