Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Charlus Potter made his way down the empty corridors of Hogwarts wanted to make sure he wasn't seen by anyone that could compromise his position. He may have been a Prefect but what he was heading to do right now was anything but golden, and he sure didn't want to be questioned about where he was going. Looking around the corner slowly, he spotted Septimus Weasley pacing up and down the hall. What the hell was his friend doing out so late at night? Curfew had long since ended. Taking a deep breath, Charlus drew himself up to his full height and stepped out of the shadows.
"Septimus… late night for you, isn't it?" Charlus muttered, startling the red haired boy who looked to see who had spoken in the darkness.
The redhead looked quite relieved to see it was only Charlus.
"Hi there, Charlus. What are you doing out so late," he asked right back, fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt all the while.
"I'm the Prefect of Gryffindor, Septimus," Charlus replied matter-of-factly, much like speaking to an ignorant child. "I'm supposed to patrol the Gryffindor corridors at night."
Septimus flushed a deep red and looked up at him, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he realized something.
"Charlus, this isn't the Gryffindor-"
"Look," Charlus interrupted with an overdone smile, realizing his mistake, "how about you get going and I won't have to report this little incident. Gryffindors have to look out for each other, after all."
Septimus perked up and smiled brilliantly.
"Thanks, mate. Good looking out for me on your part. I better be getting back to the tower before anyone notices I'm missing."
Charlus watched until his friend rounded the corner before continuing on his walk just as carefully and slowly as before. The person he was meeting might complain about him being late, but at least he wouldn't be caught.
Soon he arrived at what appeared to be just a brick wall with an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy attempting to train trolls. Not skipping a beat, Charlus walked past the tapestry three times thinking about the person he was meeting. A huge iron door appeared entering into the Room of Requirements. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.
"You're late, Potter," rumbled the deep voice of Abraxus Malfoy, who was sneering, suspicion in his eyes. "Our lord was expecting you fifteen minutes ago, and he gets very....how do you say… over-zealous with certain curses when kept waiting."
"Well I'm here now," Charlus managed to utter. "And what do you know… no Aurors! Can you show me the way now?" he continued, feeling a confidence building, noticing that Abraxus's sneer became more pronounced.
"You are not going anywhere without proper instructions, Potter. First, when you see him, you must bow. Your bow can be short since this is your first time at a meeting, but if he accepts you, make it longer next time. Don't speak until spoken to. When you are given permission to speak, keep it short and to the point. If he accepts you into our little 'club,' bow and say, 'thank you Lord Voldemort.' However…" Abraxus continued, an ancient evil flashing in his eyes, "If he doesn't accept you into our little 'club,' expect to be obliviated… I wouldn't recommend struggling. It makes our job so much harder."
Without thinking, Charlus managed a weak nod of assent.
"Well I believe it's time to enter," Abraxus said, pushing the second doors open. With that, Abraxus disappeared into the doorway. Charlus was left by himself outside the door, confused as to if he should follow or wait. Even so, he craned his ear to hear what would be said.
"My lord…. Charlus Potter has survived for his audience with you," Abraxus announced
"Excellent," a soft, velvety voice replied. "You may present him to me."
Upon hearing the encouraging words from what appeared to be a rather soft-spoken man, Charlus felt his confidence soar. Instead of waiting for Abraxus to come and get him, Charlus strode into the room, a smirk on his face. As he strode to the center of what looked like a court setting from a castle, he took in his surroundings.
There were about fifty students in deep black robes that looked like they were made from shadows on each side of the room, all wearing silver masks. He almost froze mid-step when he spotted the unmistakable violet eyes of Dorea Black behind one silver mask. Though he was curious, his focus returned to Abraxus, standing on the side of a seated figure. Tom Riddle, a clean-shaven young man, sat on a throne looking unperturbed by Charlus's abrupt entrance.
Remembering Abraxus's instructions from only moments earlier, Charlus bowed halfway, refusing to dirty himself by bowing fully to a half-blood. He didn't consider this to be prejudiced, but rather that he was a pure-blood and simply better in every way. There was a tense silence before Riddle spoke.
"Well, Potter; I would say this is most unexpected, but that would be a lie," Voldemort replied in an unaffected voice. He paused for a moment to properly readjust the ring on his finger. "I admit myself surprised when you approached me and asked for an audience with Lord Voldemort." Another pause, before he again continued. "The first thought to cross my mind was how did he know about our little 'club'. Only the elite are invited, after all. However, Abraxus pointed out how close you and Miss Black are," he said emotionlessly, sweeping his finger towards the group of robed students to indicate the girl, "and I have to say, I'm unsurprised that she 'spilled the beans,' as the muggles would say." With that, he flashed a rather poisonous glance in Dorea's direction. "We will speak of this after the meeting, Miss Black; don't think we won't." Riddle's stony but aloof countenance faltered not once under all the stares of the children. Dorea felt a lump rise in her throat, but nodded, knowing the consequences of what she did and accepting it.
Charlus felt guilty for getting Dorea into this situation, but resolved himself to not think about it.
Riddle then turned his gaze again to the slowly crumbling countence of Charlus Potter, who was still standing at the front of the room, left a bit speechless upon hearing of Voldemort's knowledge of his and Dorea's association.
"You have your audience now, Potter; so speak!" Riddle suddenly commanded, startling Charlus from his reverie so as to cause him to flinch. The boy stole a brief but wide-eyed glance in the direction of Dorea Black, and recomposed himself quickly. He knew now was the time to gather his thoughts, even with all those eyes watching… It was now time to put all those pure-blood politics lessons to good. With that thought in mind, Charlus took a deep breath, locked eyes with the sinister but deep blue eyes of Tom Riddle, and began to speak.