Musty water dripped down from the ceiling, sending out loud echoes of water droplets on the rocky floor. A sound so simple, so little, that it wouldn't normally be heard in a crowded room such as this. Though it wasn't exactly a room, more like a long endless tunnel filled with hundreds of cloaked figures all standing with their heads bowed. As everyone stared at the ground, masks stared straight back up at them. Masks carefully placed, so that everyone knew where to stand. Some had the courage to lift their heads and look around the room. Many were excited, most were full of hatred with a passion. This was the moment they'd been waiting for. This would be the beginning of a new world, a new dawn, a new era.
CRACK!
The noise blasted through the tunnel. Someone apparated to the front next to a broken down podium. He wore no cloak, but rather a trench coat with three large fastened buckles around his torso. He was a white figure with messy black hair. His eyes were normal, yet with a closer look, they were not. There was a faint greenish glow around the pupils, dilating them slightly, but not so much that it was noticeable. To stare into these eyes would bring a small sense of wonder, yet sorrow accompanied by a feeling of vastness confusion. The power emanating from him was immense, so much so that to walk near him brought forth a sense of inferiority, not towards him, but towards the wandering soul. There was something evil about this man, something the world had not yet seen the shadow of.
As he reached the podium, he looked out over the crowd. At this time, everyone who still had their heads bowed looked up towards the front and center of the tunnel. Curiosity struck the minds of those who came. Murmurs began to race through the crowd.
This is the man who called us?
He's just a child, couldn't be older than twenty!
I heard he was born from the shadows, he doesn't look strong at all!
This is who's supposed to lead us?!
"Throughout history, we've met nothing but disappointment," bellowed the figure from up front. "Time and time again, we've been forced to hide within the crevices and creaks of the deepest corners of the Earth; waiting for a time when we can be free to roam the world, free to show ourselves to anyone who dares cross our paths. The Ministry thinks we've no right to live in freedom. They think better of the muggles who live on our land, breathe our air, and desecrate on our lifestyle. The Ministry says it's because the muggles won't accept us, and why should they? Those wretched creatures who roam their free country aren't accepting of any difference. If you're not like them, you're not a person. If you're not a person, then what the hell are you? Why should we even let them accept us? They've done nothing for us. The Ministry forces our world to remain in secrecy under an enormous amount of degrading statutes that make us the lesser man. The Ministry is just as bad as the muggles, if not worse. The Ministry shares our blood, they share our heritage, and they share our culture, but is that enough to convince them to put us before them?"
He paused and looked over the crowd. The beginning of his speech clearly served its purpose. His audience was captivated by his words, they agreed with his logic. He had their attention, now he needs their support.
"From this day forth, we, the powerful, shall cut off the ignorant fools that claim governance over our lives. The Ministry can try all they want to stop us, but with unity, with the support from the hundreds that have gathered here tonight, they won't stop us. We'll send a message to the rest of the world that we will take secrecy no more. Muggles have no right to claim this world as their own. This isn't their world, this is ours. We'll take to the streets and we'll bring down the damned and the resisting. We'll-"
He was cut off short by a cloaked figure in the third row.
"Wait, wait, wait," rambled the man. "You're racketeering a mutiny! Who do you think you are that you're the one to lead it? How do we know you ain't some punk mucking around on the streets blabbering about mutiny and power when you probably haven't even seen the light of a cruciatus curse?"
The man's disrupting questions sparked massive detractions from the crowd. Focus in the tunnel shifted from the captivity of the presenter and was now focused on the revealing remarks this unknown person was prompting. If something had to be done to win back the captivity of the crowd, it had to be done now. It needed to be over the top, so that no one could ever again question the power that was before them. Support was clearly a foolish endeavor, what was needed was unquestionable loyalty.
"You know not who I am, but you know of my legend," he responded. "Tell me, what is it you've heard about me?"
"I don't know who the hell you think you are," responded the man in the crowd with an agitated tone in his voice. "But the man we came here tonight to pledge our loyalty to is supposed to be of profound power. It's said that he was born from the shadows, with no clear origin. He has the power to command the shadows and silence the light."
"And what of the lightning," asked the presenter.
"His lightning spells," verified the cloaked man. "Well, his lightning spells are said to be perfect beyond imagination. Those who've seen it say it doesn't even look like lightning, but rather a beam of solid light that shows no limit to its strength".
"If you saw it," asked the presenter. "If you were able to witness it with your own eyes, then, would you believe that I am of the legends you've been told?"
The crowd acknowledged the question with a murmured yes in agreement.
The presenter walked next to the podium and lowered his arms to his side. A wand fell out of his right sleeve and was caught by his hand. Without hesitation, the man lifted his sleeve and before you could even hear the first syllable of the killing curse leave the tip of his tongue, a bright green light erupted from his wand and hit the man within milliseconds of time. The light was brighter than anything anyone had ever seen before. This looked like no lightning curse, but rather something of holy origins. If there was any doubt amongst the men in the room that this wizard before them wasn't who he claimed to be, then it was immediately extinguished the moment the light filled the room.
The light quickly disappeared and the man who met the unfortunate end of the spell was lying on the ground, along with six men who made the mistake of standing near him at the start of the evening.
The presenter returned to the broken down podium.
"All of you shall play an important role in our cause," he continued. "The death eaters currently have a faint stronghold on our world, people relate our kind with the belligerent fool who once ruled a sect of us in the United Kingdom. He was ill-hearted, he had no sense of reality, only for self-interest. He failed not us, but only himself. The death eaters will rise again and claim this world as our own. No more will we live in silence, no more will we suffer from constraints! This is our world, the Wizarding World, and it's time we took it back into our own hands!"
His last argument was met by a roar of approval from the crowd. The death eaters were once again in unison, this time with a new leader. There was structure once more and a strong purpose to follow. This would be the beginning of the dawn of a new era.