The Dawning Of … A New Night
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and NCIS belong to their respective creators, J.K. Rowling and Donald P. Bellisario. I’m not making any profit from this story.
Author’s Note: This story was written for EmyPink, her gift for the Secret Santa Exchange: 2009 Edition on NFA. I hope you enjoy it!
Thanks to:
Augrey07, aka Liz, for beta reading this story, I couldn’t have done it without you. I hope you enjoyed reading and editing it as much as I did writing it.
Channeld, aka Pam, for putting together a wonderful SeSa this year, it couldn’t have been easy, and you did a fabulous job!
*Chuck Bellicosa and *Vivian Grant, my muses and biggest supporters. Thank you for being with me every step of the way, and making sure I didn’t panic, too much, over my “big assignment.” Hugs and Kisses, I am in your debt.
Without all of you, this story would not be here, so I thank you from the bottom of my toes to the top to my full head.
Chapter One
The air had a stillness about it that told of the calm before the storm. The few unfortunate souls who were outside were rushing to get inside for shelter, in their cars, houses, trains, any place that was warm and, hopefully, pleasant, unlike the outside weather. It was clear to all this was going to be a monstrous rainfall, with howling winds and stormy clouds. Yes, no one would want to be outside when this storm hit.
The calmness the sky now displayed seemed surreal, almost like a mirage. If the weather had not been acting up for days, the people of Washington, D.C., would probably be outside, enjoying a day with no wind. As it were, the climate had been acting so temperamental; people were locked up tight in their homes, stocked up on supplies. Shelters were already full, with more homeless citizens begging to have a roof over their head during the approaching storm. It was shaping up to be a nasty winter.
Suddenly, just as quickly as a tsunami exploding on the shoreline, the darkening sky was lit with lights of shadows, taking the shape of an all too familiar mark of a hidden world, one worn on the left arm of the followers of one of the world’s biggest monsters. Howling winds could be heard, and thunder and lightning, crashed down on the city below. Up in the night sky, the moon was blocked from view by the darkness falling, but not before the shape of the mark could be seen in all its glory. The Dark Mark was on display for all to see.
The crackling laughter belonging to the followers of the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters, as they watched with glee while their Master’s sign burned into the sky, was a sound Shelly, a young homeless girl, who had not made it to a shelter in time, would never, ever forget. A sound that consisted of pleasure, a sound showing one is pleased with the suffering of others, a sound that told of one getting off on another’s pain, in short, all that was wrong with this world.
Unluckily for Shelly, as the people dressed in dark cloaks and wearing silver masks started to regroup, one noticed her.
It was a woman, one with a mad look in her eyes, the same look that showed in her voice when she had let out that harrowing sound. Her hair was the blackest of black, and her face was contorted with disgust. Shelly could tell this woman, if she could be called that, had been beautiful on the outside once. Now, her looks hinted at what lay beneath what one might mistakenly say was a lost beauty, but her eyes matched her soul, if she even had one. They showed how it was so mangled, broken, twisted, warped, and cut beyond repair, it was simply a horrifying darkness, a soul that had given itself to the Devil. This woman was Bellatrix Lestrange; one of the Dark Lord’s most devoted followers.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here, a homeless little Muggle?” She crooned, her voice was filled with disgust, it made Shelly’s skin crawl, as she walked up to her. Shelly tried to move, to run, but they had surrounded her. There was no way out. She vowed, as she saw the woman look at her with fury in her eyes that she would die with dignity. There was no doubt in Shelly’s mind that she was going to die. Now, she just hoped the woman would do what she wished to her, and spare any others.
Shelly knew by her eyes, the one thing she kept looking at the whole time as pain like she had never felt before spread through her body, as she screamed from the agony, as tears blurred her vision, while these monsters spend hours torturing her, when the last thing she saw as the woman lifted up a long stick and shouted “Avada Kedavra,” was that she was not this woman’s first victim, nor would she be her last.
Bellatrix Lestrange and the other Death Eaters were so absorbed in their perverse fun, laughing at Shelly’s pain, and Shelly’s last moments, as her body landing in a crumbled heap, devoid of life, of suffering, forever, that they did not hear the soft ‘pop’ that signaled the arrival of someone. Oh, what a mistake, he thought. The person seemed to be cloaked in shadows, they gathered around him, blocking his features. Just the way he wanted it. As the group in front of him laughed and cackled, wee hawed, and shouted, he quietly walked forward.
Bellatrix was admiring her handiwork, a look of delight on her face. The others were so involved in being pleased with her, or talking amongst themselves about all the muggles they would kill, that they did not notice him. He noticed that Snape did, but he said nothing. He filed that away for later reflection.
The man cloaked in shadows silently walked forward. Anyone who realized he was there became deathly quiet, unwilling to set this man off. He had shown them he was not above torture, though he seemed to prefer mind games. One could never be sure with someone in this group, though.
If Bellatrix noticed the silence, she paid it no attention. She just kept on dancing to the insane tune that only made sense to her and her alone. This gave him plenty of space to walk up behind her, a feat not many could, or would do.
He surveyed the dead teenage girl lying on the cold, wet ground with an impassive eye. Homeless for a few years, by the looks of it, and it seemed she had had a very hard life. Her body was twisted at an odd angle, blood covering most of her flesh. Tears tracks were clearly visible on her cheeks, oh, yes; Bella had done quite a job on this unfortunate soul.
“Having fun, Bella?” He whispered to her softly. She spun around, her eyes wide. Attempting to cover up what she knew she should not have done, she bowed.
“My prince?” She winced, hoping her punishment would not get back to her Lord. Apparently the Dark Prince had other ideas.
“Was something not clear about your instructions, Bella?” His voice was barely a whisper, and that never ended well. “Did I not tell you to Apparate here and wait for me? Nothing else, remember? Or do you think you are in charge now?” He waited, knowing that any physical punishment he could give her would be nothing as compared to being dressed down in front of her fellow Death Eaters.
“But,” Bellatrix started to say.
“No buts, Bella. I’ll let the Dark Lord deal with you when we return. Can you contain yourself until then, or do you need to sit this mission out?” His voice was taunting, making it very clear that he had the power over her.
Bellatrix’s face flamed at the indignity of it all. “No, my Prince.”
“No, what, Bella?” was the mocking response her answer received. Laughter was echoing in the air at Bellatrix’s expense. Her face was flushed in embarrassment and anger. Oh, how she longed to take her wand out and curse them all. But she didn’t, seeing as she was in enough trouble with the Dark Lord’s new second in command. He had proved he was ruthless, and she did not have the same loyalty to him that she did to the Dark Lord, not enough to make herself go through anymore of his “punishments” then she had to.
“No, I do not need to sit out, my Prince,” she growled. He laughed at her, a chilling, harrowing sound.
“Good to know, Bella,” was all he said. The Dark Prince surveyed the group in front of him. “Enough chit chat, its time to do what we came for.” This got a huge cheer, which he allowed for a moment then cut off with a look. The group quickly fell silent once more. “Does everyone remember their orders?” He received nods from all around.
He smiled a spine-shivering smile. “Let’s get this show on the road.” ‘Pops’ filled the air as the Death Eaters and their acting leader apparated to their destination.
Anacostia Naval Station stands straight across from the Anacostia River and Fort McNair. It houses The Defense Information Systems Agency's, also known as DISA, The White House Communications Agency, and Navy housing office. This is one of the most important Navel bases in Washington, D.C., if not the whole United States. It should come as no surprise that the Death Eaters chose this particular place of all the ones in Washington, D.C., seeing as it had such an important government job, but not as high, as, say, the Pentagon.
‘Pops’ filled the air once more, as the Death Eaters arrived at their target. As the guards around the gate moved to pull their weapons, they were cursed dead immediately. Seeing as how this base could not sense magic, the Death Eater’s were now free to make mindboggling damage. Death Eaters, like terrorists, love to reek senseless acts of random violence.
A magical perimeter of 30 miles of Washington D.C., facing away from the river, was set up for maxim impact. A single curse rang through the air, the voice speaking belonging to the man of shadows, the Dark Prince, “Fiendfyre!” As the Death Eaters watched with glee, a wave of what seemed to be demonic fire, burned through the base, in the opposite direction of where they were standing.
Screams could be heard from the few people who could see this possessed element coming, before they too were lost in its unforgiving path. Watching and waiting until the screams of the burned, and burning, alive were out of earshot, he turned to face the group.
“The night is still young, Diagon Alley, anyone?” He asked, a blood curdling smirk on his features. With cackles and laughs, they took off once more, leaving what was to be an icy winter, as hot as the depths of hell.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Death Eaters attack a Navel base, and in doing so bring two very different worlds together.