PotterLock Down (A Crossover Fanfiction)

Chapter 1: The Visitor From Wiltshire

The sun was shining as the cab pulled away from the inn at the small village in Wiltshire.

"Where to, sah?" barked the boisterous cabbie. He stroked the edges of his walrus mustaches and glanced at the greasy black head behind him.

"It's a lonely road, I'm afraid," replied his passenger. "Not much in the part of the country where I'm headed. I don't even think it has a name."

The cab driver laughed. "Never fear, sah! I've been driving 'round these 'ills since I first learned 'ow, I know the Wiltshire valleys like the back o' me 'and! D'ye know some sort o' landmark, then? Some 'eading I could use?"

The greasy man sighed and sank lower in his seat. "Just drive; and do be quiet about it. I've come a long ways. Take the east road until you reach the only house in the area. You'll know it when you see it."

The driver turned and stared straight ahead. Soon, his passenger began to softly snore.

The passenger did not stir till the cab rolled to a stop. The vague silhouette of a large manor was barely visible through the thick fog of the valley. The short, pale man with the greasy black hair disembarked and placed a roll of notes in the driver's hand.

"Cor!" the man spluttered, his red face blanching ghostly white as he realized his passenger's destination. "I take it ye believe in ghosts, then?"

The man smiled wryly, "Not typically; I've done my fair share of impersonating one. Why do you ask?"

The driver jabbed a beefy finger in the direction of the spires that seemed to sprout from the gloom itself. "They say only those who believe c'n see the 'ouse yonder. Many have tried to reach it, but when they got there, the 'ouse was gone. So," he leaned out and squinted hard. "C'n ye see it? Is it there?"

The man took two steps and saw the firm gravel of a long walk materialize out of the mulchy mud. He smiled. "Yes," he answered the cabbie. "I can."

The driver wordlessly cranked the ignition and rumbled away from the area as fast as he could.

The man continued up the walk till he came to the gate emblazoned with the family name. His fingers tingled as he placed a hand upon the iron shield emblazoned with the family crest. A sharp edge on one of the points sliced his finger, and the man drew his hand back with a grimace. His blood beaded bright red upon the black metal. Slowly, the gates creaked inward, opening to allow him entrance. He continued his calm gait up to the house.

Two people watched the man's progress with much anxiety, but whether it was over his arrival or because of it, remained to be seen. The man with long silver hair and piercing grey eyes frowned. "He passed through the gate," he remarked.

His wife smoothed the tresses of her dark hair streaked with silver. "Then is he—you know—the one He said would come?"

The lord of the manor shrugged his shoulders. "He must be; there is His blood in him. Not just anyone can get past the spells on those gates, remember."

"But why is he here?"

"Hush, my dear. He is at the door."

The short man with the greasy black hair and the wide, black eyes smiled at the lord of the manor.

"Charmed," he said politely.

They all stared at him. Then the master of the house recovered. "Forgive my manners," he said. "I am Lucius Malfoy, and this is my wife, Narcissa." He paused briefly. "And you are?"

The dark man gave him a tight-lipped smile and—very deliberately—stepped over the threshold of the house.

Such a shriek as could hardly be termed human raked over everyone's ears. In a whirlwind of black crepe she descended upon him, positively wild with rage. "Filthy Muggle!" she screamed. "How dare you come into this house unbidden! I'll tickle you with curses! I'll make you wish—"