Untitled character backstory (Tom Marvolo Riddle)
i.
The Dark Lord sat in Lucius Malfoy's study—the finest room in Malfoy Manor. Day was slowly fading to dusk, the sky outside turning blood red. His surroundings, the Dark Lord mused, were finally what he deserved. Seated on a luxurious leather chair, he flipped mindlessly through the thick pile of schematics, lists and plans placed on the polished rosewood desk. Deciding that they'd long been committed to memory, he turned them to smouldering ashes with a flick of his wand.
Victory was only hours away, burning bright in its tantalising completeness; he was sure of it. Yet it was almost as though something was missing.
Bellatrix Lestrange had fiercely advocated attacking as the castle's inhabitants were asleep, but he had vetoed the idea.
"No, Bella," he had laughed, humourless as his fingers skimmed over her head lightly. A gesture that looked both paternalistic and mildly reproving, when in fact it was coldly calculated to get the compliance he desired. "Why sneak up on them in the dead of the night when we have more than enough forces to overcome them in a 'fair' battle? Much more glorious for the history books, I think."
The woman had nodded frantically. "Yes, my lord," she had cooed, "But of course, I wouldn't call it a battle. That would imply that both sides have an equal chance of winning. Decimation sounds like a much more appropriate word."
His lip had curled into a half-smile. He had been, however, far too busy thinking about all the books that would be written about him. He could almost see the words in gilded print: The Dark Lord along with his loyal followers stormed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, emerging victorious in a pitched battle, abolishing the House system and uniting all of pure magical blood under the noble house of Salazar Slytherin.
Narcissa Malfoy quietly pushed the door open and glided in. "My Lord," she murmured, head bowed. "The army has assembled. My sister wishes to know when you would like them to leave." He regarded the slender, pale woman before him with faint interest. She was worth ten of Lucius Malfoy, (he decided) continuing to bend when her husband had long since snapped in two and fallen by the roadside like a broken Muggle toy.
"Tell them to go ahead without me." If she was surprised, it didn't show. "Yes, my Lord." Bowing, she exited the room. The Dark Lord exhaled heavily. Tonight, his domination of the British wizarding world would be complete. So why did he feel so...
He couldn't put his finger on it. Afraid? Certainly not. He had nothing to fear. Nervous? No, not when he couldn't possibly suffer defeat. His Horcruxes ensured that. The diary was destroyed and the cup gone, but the snake was curling around his feet at that very moment, the locket and ring were safe and the diadem ensconced in the Room of Hidden Things at Hogwarts.
Hogwarts…he sighed. Noticing a stray piece of parchment that had floated to the ground under the desk, he lifted it with a twitch of his hand and found himself staring at a diagram of the castle, complete with all the secret passages and shortcuts that he once—and still knew like the back of his hand. It was a pity that magical blood would have to be spilled tnoight, he decided, but no one who supported Harry Potter could have a place in his new empire. He couldn't help wondering how much Dark Magic Hogwarts could withstand before it started to crumble. After all, it had once been his home…
