What if...

Amorous Resistance

Somewhere unknown, an old man was cleaning the shed of the house he now lived in. The previous owners of the manor beside him had been mysteriously killed, and the people blamed him.

Frank Bryce was the Riddle servant, the man who, fifty years ago, everyone knew and adored. Until their son disappeared and the parents were murdered.

No one believed him, but Frank swore he saw a teenage boy inside the house and a pair of green flashes. He did not see the boy again.

Speaking of teenage boys, he heard a loud bang. Startled, he looked outside his window, prepared to defend himself against a bomb raid, when he heard high, cold laughing, and the sound chilled him to the bone. It sounded a lot like a teenager, so he looked at the manor to notice a light on.

Angry at the kids for trespassing, he marched over the field angrily to give them a piece of his mind.

Though, when he entered the manor, he heard nothing. Nothing, except low muttering. They must have figured out he was here and were now trying to escape.

But Frank would be quiet. He would catch the teenagers and bring them to justice.

He tiptoed up the wooden stairs, trying to be silent, as a stair creaked every once in a while. It was a manor, yes, but it was a very old manor.

Finally, he reached the room with the light on. He hid beside it, ready to catch the teens once and for all, when he heard something else entirely.

"I trust the capture of Bertha Jorkins was a success?" That same high, cold voice asked.

"Y-yes, My Lord." A quivering voice answered. "Though it was h-hard, as the M-Ministry are looking for me, b-but I did it!"

Frank was confused. Who were these loonies and what were they doing here?

"Then my plan is in motion." The voice said coolly. "Though... there is one that can stop me." He admitted.

"D-Dumbledore, My Lord?" The quiverer, as Frank had dubbed him, responded.

"You are lucky, Peter, that I do not curse you where you stand, lest the muggles locate us." The voice drawled. "Dumbledore will be as easy to deal with as a fly landing on your arm."

A muggle? What was a muggle? Some kind of miniature drinking cup? Frank wasn't sure.

"T-then who, My Lord?" Peter asked.

"Harry Potter." The voice sneered.

Who the hell was Harry Potter?

"But no matter... when the time comes, he will be at my feet, begging for mercy... and I shall grant him it." The voice sounded amused now.

Frank was about to leave- he had heard too much, and he needed to warn whoever this Harry Potter was- but a low hissing noise stopped him.

He almost screamed- a gigantic python was slithering up the stairs towards him. This was unnatural! Snakes don't live in England! Not snakes that big!

He sighed in relief when the snake simply glided past him, but was worried when it slid into the room next to him.

The next thing he heard was a chilling noise- a sound he could not identify, but sounded a lot like the snake.

"Ah, opportunity arises. Nagini has told me there is an old muggle listening to every word spoken here." The voice said, and Frank took his chance and tried to run, but found himself tripping over nothing. He turned to see a short, balding man with a distinct lack of teeth who grabbed him and brought him into the room, standing in front of him to address the back of a chair.