Struggle for Power Chapter 1

Struggle for Power

       Our story begins on a dark night with a man little known by the wizarding and muggle world. He is about to be caught up in a war that he has no desire to be in but is soon to discover what he wants isn't always what he gets. Mason Storm walks into his study, he sinks into his large chair the fire roars in the hearth, bits of ash and coal tumble out of the fires. The fire dances about the logs rising to life when a chunk of charred wood falls from the fire. He hears a "tap, tap, tap" comming from the window at the far end of the study, he looks up his face twisted in curiosity and fear, he slowly rises from his chair his wand in his hand, the ivory handle glints in the fire light. The "tap, tap, tap" comes again, the dark blue robes of the wizard hang about his frame as he moves towards the window, he comes up to the rain streaked glass and peers outward his wand help up, a flash lightning streaks across the cloud covered sky the figure of a large owl comes and goes with the lightning.
       He puts his wand back into his cloak quickly and quickly pushes the window upward, as he pushes the window open the wind and rain blows into the room scattering papers the owl hops in and onto a desk nearby. The owl was wet and shivering, it lifted its right leg and there tied to it was a roll of parchment, he reached out and untied the string holding the parchment to the owl's leg and slowly unrolls it, a gold ring tumbles out and onto the floor, he bends over to pick the ring up when something about the ring catches his eye. It was molded to look like two serpents wrapping around each other, one devouring and the other being devoured, and in the center of the two serpents was an unusually bright emerald, the stone glinted in the fire light, the green sheen of the stone could be easily seen, he slowly lowered his hand to pick up the ring a face flashed thru his minds eye, a face of anger and fury flashes thru his mind, he pulls his hand up and slowly moves to the desk and pulls the chair out sitting down and begins to read over the parchment. After a few moments of going over and over the note time and time again he stands up weakily and head back to his large chair and falls down into it, he passes his hands over his eyes and breathes in deeply. He sits there his head resting in the palms of his hands, the fire pops in the silence of the room followed by the hoot of the owl. He looks up from his hands and down at the ring lying on the wet floor, the wind and rain continue to howl outside, he gets up once more heading over to take the ring.
       The ring continue to lay on the sleek wood floor of the study, the fire light dancing upon the gold surface of the band, Mason's footsteps come quietly upon the ring, he stands there like a statue, immobile and strong, he stares down at the ring and crouches down bending his knees slowly to come closer to the ring. He continues to watch it as if expecting something to occur, he reaches out with his left hand ever so slowly, the face flashes thru his mind again. He brings back his hand and goes back to watching the ring, and again he reaches out to take the ring and uses his right this time, the face flashes once more but this time more vividly, he ignores it and takes the ring. He straightens up holding the ring aloft in his sweaty palm, the ring lies still in his hand, he watches the ring more closely still looking as if it were alive and ready to try something, he carries the ring and sits back in his chair, he clasps his hand around the ring squeezing tightly, he lays his head back and begins to speak almost like a chant of some sort for a short time, he opens his hand and the ring has moved from his palm to his finger, it looked as if it belonged there for his face showed no emotion of it being there.
       Outside the storm continues to roar its furry and anger, the owl doses off on its little perch, and Mason Storm sits in deep thought, he reaches into his robes and pulls out an aged pipe and a case of tabacco, he fills the pipe strikes a match and slowly begins puffing on the pipe until the tabacco begins to glow, he shakes he match out and tosses it into the fire now dying slowly as the log turns to ash. He sits there in thought, smoking and making curious scenes with the smoke tendrals, scenes of ancient battles, battles of wizards long dead, in frustration he runs his hand thru the smoke scattering it about and continues his pipe in the silence of his study. As night draws on he keeps the pipe filled and the fire fed and the ring on his finger not once taking it off to even look at it.

       He thinks to himself "Tomarrow more answers shall be brought forth from the shadows they hide in, but in the truths learned comes more deceit and shadows." So he sits in his chair throughout the night and awaits the comming day and its truths.....