storm

*Narrator pov* 

A hill sat sharply above the ocean, its wind-swept grasses bent low under the relentless gusts tearing off the sea. Below, the waves raged, crashing mercilessly against jagged rocks that jutted from the depths, their surfaces slick with spray and ancient moss. A roar of the tide fills the air, a sound that echoed across the landscape. 

It was the perfect landscape of harmony and disharmony. 

Atop this windswept summit stood Lord Voldemort, his dark robes whipping violently in the wind. His silhouette cut a stark figure against the storm-darkened sky, as if he were carved from shadow itself. His eyes, cold and serpentine, were fixed on the turbulent ocean below, yet his mind seemed far from the chaos beneath. His pale face, devoid of any warmth, was unmoved by the ferocity of the elements. 

Suddenly his face morphed into a scowl and his mind joined the crashing waved below anger fueled his being ushering from his toes to his head. 

Gone were his subordinates he so loved to surround himself with, his snake who always stayed by his side was nowhere to be seen. Alone the Dark Lord stood gazing upon the ocean. 

"RAHHH!" he shouted into the empty expanse 

He was alone with his rage. 

*Voldemort pov*

Loss after loss, plan after plan destroyed. 

BY WHAT! 

Dumbledore, Morpheus, these new hit Wizards. Everything EVERYTHING was failing is failing. 

At this rate, I will lose the trust of my subordinates. With their trust, I gone so will the funding go fleeing away from me. 

Then there are the werewolves, oh-so prone to changing their minds. One more false step and my assurances will no longer be enough. 

The Bones siege was supposed to be proof I could wipe out a Noble House. One, ONE out of the whole family was slain.

Dumbledores work. 

my next action must be heavy-handed, it must strike fear into the population, and it MUST succeed. 

No matter what. 

The first time I attacked Diagon Alley there was no success, this time I will leave, and everyone will remember the name of Voldemort. 

Taking a deep breath I stood atop the hill for just a little longer, savoring the sight before me. The waves brutally assaulting the shore, kicking away all creatures who dared to venture close. 

This is what I will turn Britain into. 

***

Taking a portkey back to the Lestranges I called for a meeting of my most trusted. Making sure to have the dark mark inflict as much pain as possible to indicate my current mood. 

Soon I heard the sound of the floo soaring to life joined by the footsteps of my subordinates. 

They filed into the parlor first to enter was Lestrange after all it was his manor. Next Mulciber followed by young Malfoy, Fenrir Greyback was close behind. 

As more people entered and the seats began to fill the room grew tense and uneasy. They feared what my next words would be, oh how I relished in it. 

"Failure after failure," I spoke softly at first scanning the room with my eyes picking up errant thoughts with just base-level scans 

"Loss after loss," I could feel their nervousness, shame and dread 

"How many can we gather for another attack?" I asked the room watching intently at who would react negatively 

As expected Fenrir scowled, "You want to send more of my people to the slaughter?" he asked 

I locked eyes with him, "Get out!" he growled standing up from his seat and holding his head in pain 

"No, I will not be Grayback," I answered while gesturing to his seat 

He sat back down rubbing his head from my mental assault, taking another look around the room many avoided my eyes, "I will ask again how many can we gather?" This time no one was hesitant 

"Around twenty we still need some to have alibies for whatever you are planning," Lestrange answered swiftly 

Hmm, "Good," standing I turned and walked toward the whisky cabinet 

"Inform them to be ready two days from now," I ordered pouring myself a glass and bringing it to my nose I allowed the scent to burn my nostrils 

"For what my lord?" Malfoy asked carefully 

Turning around I took a small sip feeling the pleasant sensation wash down my throat, "Diagon Alley," 

Even a pathetic muggle would have been able to feel the way the atmosphere of the room changed from hesitation to reluctance. They didn't want to follow my lead once more. 

"I will be in attendance this time of course," I added lightly feeling the atmosphere drastically shift once more 

"Are you sure my lord?" Mulciber asked hesitantly fearing for MY safety 

How laughable. 

"Do not challenge my decisions, I will lead the charge and we will show these fools what it means to cross us," 

*Narrator pov* 

Diagon Alley bustled with life it was just a typical day. The cobblestone streets were teeming with witches and wizards moving between shops, their cloaks swishing in the gentle breeze. The air hummed with the chatter of customers haggling over potion ingredients at Slug & Jiggers, the soft hooting of owls perched outside Eeylops Owl Emporium, and the gleeful shouts of children admiring broomsticks on display at Quality Quidditch Supplies. The warm aroma of freshly baked goods drifted from the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, mingling with the sharp scent of parchment and ink wafting from Flourish and Blotts. Above it all, the sun shone brightly, casting a golden hue over the colorful storefronts.

Then, without warning, a hush fell over the alley. Conversations died mid-sentence, and faces turned skyward, eyes widening in horror. The air, once filled with the light-hearted buzz, now grew heavy with dread. High above, searing into the blue sky, the Dark Mark appeared—its emerald skull with a serpent slithering from its mouth twisted unnaturally in the sunlight.

Panic spread through the alley like wildfire. Shouts of terror replaced the laughter, and people scrambled for safety, pushing and shoving as shopkeepers hurriedly closed their doors. Wands were drawn, but the sight of the Dark Mark, hovering ominously above, made everyone feel small and helpless. The once-vibrant Diagon Alley was now gripped by a shadow of fear, as the symbol of Voldemort's reign cast its dark mark.

As the dread grew and Aurors flooded the alley the sound of daunting laughter echoed across the chaos. 

"Attack!" Voldemort hissed and suddenly the alley was filled with black robes and silver masks 

Chaos erupted as both sides began at once. 

For every hex deflected, another deadly curse slipped through, cutting down defenders and bystanders alike.

Innocent witches and wizards, caught in the crossfire, fled in terror or fell to the onslaught, their bodies crumpling amidst the debris. Screams pierced the air as the ruthless Death Eaters, fueled by cruelty and a lust for destruction, unleashed their dark magic indiscriminately.

An Auror, his robes torn and bloodied, fired off a powerful Stupefy, only for it to be countered by a Death Eater's brutal blast of green light. He fell, his body collapsing lifelessly among the growing casualties. Around him, more Aurors fell one by one, overwhelmed by the sheer lethality of their attackers.

Among the fleeing crowd, a young witch shielded her child with her body, but the violent exchange of spells was unforgiving. A blast shattered the wall beside them, sending her flying, her screams swallowed by the roar of battle.