Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Joe gulped, and Voldemort’s lipless mouth curled into a twisted smile. He pointed his stick at Joe, muttered strange word, and ropes came out of nowhere and twisted themselves tightly around the youth. Joe’s arms were now tied tightly to his sides and his legs bound painfully together. He lost his balance and fell heavily to the ground. Then Voldemort turned to Frank and did the same. As Frank fell beside his brother, Voldemort began to pace slowly in front of the boys, red eyes gleaming maliciously.

“I suppose you are wondering what is going on,” he began, looking at each boy with his terrible eyes. Frank and Joe exchanged fearful glances, but otherwise remained silent. Voldemort studied intently, then resumed talking. “Before I continue my plans, I shall tell you all you need to know.” He paused, then said, “You don’t know anything, do you? About your family? Your father? Your legacy?”

“Legacy?” snorted Joe. “Sure, we’re the sons of the ‘famous’ Fenton Hardy, but that’s not exactly a legacy is it?” Voldemort’s eyes hardened and he kicked Joe roughly in the ribs. Joe gasped in pain, and Frank glowered, but Voldemort ignored them both and said coldly, “Do not speak unless you have permission. Surely your father taught you respect of those more powerful than you…”

Joe glared at him, eyes filled with hatred. Voldemort chuckled darkly.

“First,” he said, “let me tell you a little about myself. I, Lord Voldemort, and the most feared and powerful being in the wizarding world.”

“Are you part of some kind of twisted cult?” Joe demanded, then grunted in pain as Voldemort’s foot connected with his side once more.

“You do not seem to want to learn, do you? Ah, well, you will soon enough. And to answer your naïve question, no, I am not part of a ‘cult’. I am a wizard.”

Seeing Frank and Joe’s baffled expressions, he said, “Yes, there are such things as wizards. In fact, your very father used to be one of the most powerful wizards on the face of the earth.”

Frank and Joe stared. “That’s not possible! Why are you telling us all this crap?” Joe shot, and closed his eyes, preparing for another kick as Voldemort neared him. He opened them, however, when he felt. He jumped and tensed as he saw the man kneeling beside him.

“Oh, it’s possible,” he said, taking out his stick and pointed it at Joe’s heart.

Joe felt the blood drain from his face, but he remained calm and forced himself to look away from the weapon that was still level to his heart. “What is that thing?”

“Oh, this?” said Voldemort, glancing carelessly at the weapon. “It is a wand.”

“That’s not possible,” Joe repeated.

“Is it not?” Smirking, Voldemort returned the wand to his robes and stood up. Joe gave a sigh of relief and Voldemort chuckled inwardly. “How else do you explain how we stunned you?”

“It could be some sort of stun gun,” Frank put in, but his voice betrayed his thoughts.

“Frank!” Joe said, staring at his brother, wide-eyed. He had heard his tone. “Don’t tell me you believe this! You’re supposed to be the sensible one!”

“Well,” said Frank slowly, casting a quick glance at the man standing before him. When he made no move to kick him or his brother, he continued, “is there any other way to explain all the weird stuff that’s been going on? I mean, this ancient guy coming to our house, Mom and Dad acting so strangely, us getting attacked in the alley, what he—” he nodded at Lucius, who was standing in a corner and hadn’t said a word this whole time, “—did to you, how the door is appearing and disappearing, how those ropes just sprung out of thin air—” he paused, his brow furrowing, “—and if I remember right, didn’t Dumbledore have an old rocking chair he must have made appear?”

Joe frowned. “I…guess.”

“I mean, it doesn’t make sense,” Frank went on, acting as if Joe hadn’t even spoken, his voice rising in excitement, “but somehow it seems possible. I really can’t explain it…I can just see it now. I don’t know—but everything is sort of coming together now. Don’t you see? If Dad was trying to protect us or something, he brought us up believing that there was a logical explanation for everything, while, really, there was a whole supernatural world just outside our door.”

“Very good,” said Voldemort, smiling evilly. “You certainly do have your father’s skills.”

“Okay,” said Frank, “if this is really true, then what do you want with Dad? With us? Why did you take us?”

“Yeah,” put in Joe. He was starting to understand what his brother was saying, and see the completely insane possibility of this being true, and was getting excited about the thought of being the son of a real wizard, perhaps even a wizard himself, despite his desperate situation. “What did we ever do to you?”

Voldemort’s eyes became hard and he said, “Your father did so many horrible things to me…and you did as well, my dear Joe.”

Joe looked at the villain before him, confused. What had he ever done to him?

But Voldemort was speaking again. “Your father,” he said, “was once a very powerful wizard. He was one of my greatest enemies, and a huge threat to me and my work in taking over the world with the Dark Arts. But it was a surprise when he joined forces with me.”

“Dad would never join with scum like you!” Frank spat, losing his temper. Voldemort kicked him roughly in the side and then continued his story.

“But I was stupid,” he went on. “I was so overjoyed with having such a powerful ally that I didn’t realize that he was double-crossing me. It turned out that he was spying on me for the Ministry of Magic, and when I found out I was very angry. So I vowed revenge. Your father immediately put a defense against him…he abandoned his powers completely, went to living as a muggle detective—a non-magical person—and put a spell on himself where I wouldn’t be able to find him even if he was standing right in front of me. But that proved to be a problem.

“Eventually, I stopped hunting for him. That is around the time I lost all my powers when I was unable to kill Harry Potter because of his mother’s love.”

“Who is Harry Potter?” Frank asked.

“His parents were powerful wizards as well. I went into their house one night after Peter Pettigrew betrayed them, killed his father, and then told his mother that she needen’t die if she just step aside and kill Harry. She refused, and I killed her. I moved in to kill Harry, but because of his mother’s love, he survived, and as a result, I was stripped of my powers.” His lip curled at the memory. “For years, I was barely alive…then, two years ago, Wormtail—Peter Pettigrew—helped restore me to my body with Harry Potter’s blood, my father’s bone, and his own flesh. But the boy escaped me again.

“You see,” he said, staring at the boys that were hating him more every second, “I had been trying to kill him since he found out he was a wizard, when he was eleven. And the brat escaped every time…and there is a prophecy. Either I will kill him, or he will kill me. And, since he is now sixteen, and has escaped my clutches for five years…I have realized how powerful he will be. So I need your father to combine his powers with me to get rid of Potter…but he refuses…

“Actually, I have been trying to get him to help since I came back, two years ago. I knew if I could just get to you two, I could make him jump through hoops to get you back safely…” He looked steadily into Joe’s eyes, red eyes showing pure hatred, and said, “…or at least, one of you…”

Joe shuddered.

“You know,” said Voldemort, taking his wand out of his robes and pressing the tip into Joe’s cheek so hard that it hurt, “I never liked you.”

Despite the wand painfully pressed into his face, and the fear that was bubbling up inside him, Joe said, “No. Never could figure that out.”

Sneering, Voldemort said, “No, you misunderstand me. Compared to you, I might as well love your brother.”

“Why?” asked Joe, his stomach beginning to feel sick.

Voldemort drove the wand harder into Joe’s face and the boy whimpered in pain. “Please stop hurting him,” Frank pleaded, but Voldemort ignored him.

“Why?” he said, looking Joe directly in the eyes. “Simple of course. You killed my daughter.”

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.