Amidst the eerie silence, a majestic manor stood towering, its once vibrant halls now devoid of life. Within those walls, a solitary figure roamed, draped in elegant black attire. Each step he took resonated with a hushed whisper against the gleaming black marble floor, reverberating through the empty corridors. The man's complexion had paled to an almost translucent shade, his receding hair emphasizing his gaunt appearance. Swallowed whole by the engulfing black robes, his tall and emaciated frame spoke of unhealthy fragility. Restless and troubled, he released an exasperated sigh, only to be captivated by a flicker of movement that caught his attention.
In his peripheral vision, a magnificent serpent glided gracefully towards him, its sleek body sinuously weaving through the air. Its long, slender form and flickering tongue added to its enigmatic mystique as it greeted the man with a hiss, acknowledging his presence.
"I've been awaiting your return, my beautiful girl," he grinned, crouching down. The snake gracefully climbed onto his outstretched hand, coiling itself comfortably around his shoulders. "I've missed you dearly."
The man, once known as Tom Riddle, observed his reflection in the polished marble pillars of the grand foyer. He appeared more like a creature than a man, his once captivating handsomeness replaced by a visage that mirrored his wicked and horrifying nature.
"You reek of blood," he spat out.
Emerging from the shadows, a tall and dark figure stepped forward. Heavy footsteps thundered against the ground as the self-proclaimed Dark Lord observed his counterpart through the mirror.
"I got hungry on the way," he smiled, revealing blood-stained teeth and blood dripping from his unkempt hair.
Suppressing a grimace, the Dark Lord turned to face Fenrir Greyback, a towering and muscular being known for his notoriety as a werewolf, hunting innocents for sport.
"You're dripping blood all over my floor!" Abraxas Malfoy bellowed, apparating into the manor accompanied by three other men, their arrival punctuated by a loud popping noise.
Rolling his eyes, the Dark Lord brushed off the minor altercation, focusing his attention on petting Nagini, who affectionately hissed and nuzzled against his cheek.
Muliciber and Yaxley indulged themselves in generous servings of firewhiskey, their laughter filling the air as they observed the captivating scene. Although they had aligned themselves with the man currently doting on his snake, their contempt for Fenrir Greyback ran deep. Foulmouthed, filthy, and murderous, he was a stark contrast to their refined sensibilities.
Growing weary of their constant quarrel, he smoothly withdrew his wand, unleashing a brilliant green blast that caught both of their attention, their eyes widening in surprise. "Now that you two have finished your childish antics," he paused, his voice dripping with authority, "we have important matters to discuss."
In a sudden blur, Bellatrix Black materialized into the room, commanding attention with her sleek black leather ensemble and artfully styled dark curls. Mulciber's eyes couldn't help but linger on her, much to her disdain. "Apologies for my tardiness, my Lord. I have completed the task as you requested," she declared, her voice filled with unwavering loyalty.
A pleased hum escaped the lips of their leader, permeating the air with an eerie satisfaction. Shadows within the manor seemed to inch closer to him, intensifying the already ominous atmosphere.
Turning his attention to Greyback, their gaze fell upon the werewolf, who nonchalantly picked at bits of flesh between his sharp teeth, casually flicking them towards the ground. Malfoy couldn't hide his disgust for the creature, emitting a low growl.
The leader's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Greyback, have you managed to recruit more of your kind?" he inquired, his tone demanding an answer.
With arms crossed over his impressive chest, Greyback nodded affirmatively. "Indeed, my lord," he responded, his voice laced with confidence.
A wicked grin spread across their leader's face as he issued his next command. "On the upcoming full moon, I want you and your newfound companions to attack several muggle homes," he instructed, dismissing the werewolf with a flick of his hand. Greyback smirked at Malfoy before promptly exiting the manor.
The leader's gaze shifted, fixating on the three elder wizards in the room, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Once your sons reach maturity, they shall join the esteemed ranks of the Deatheaters," he proclaimed, his voice oozing with eager anticipation. "But before that, they must undergo rigorous training in the dark arts, mastering curses and the forbidden spells. Only then will they be deemed worthy of a pivotal task that will determine their fate within my ranks."
Mulciber dared to voice his concerns. "They have only just graduated from Hogwarts. Shouldn't we allow them some time?"
A heavy silence fell upon the room, broken only by the hiss of Nagini as she slithered away from the leader's side, making her way towards Mulciber. The wizard swallowed nervously, his eyes darting between the menacing snake and its formidable master.
"Ah, Mulciber, my dear friend," the leader greeted with a mischievous grin, his voice dripping with anticipation and ambition. "I anticipate their training, my loyal companion, to endure not a mere month or two, but a full year of arduous transformation. They must become flawless instruments in my hands, honed and sharpened to perfection, for I have grand ambitions that can only be realized by conquering the very heart of the Wizarding World."
As the leader paused, his eyes narrowed into slits, revealing the intensity of his determination. "Their journey towards greatness shall commence tomorrow, casting aside the shackles of mediocrity and embracing the path of strength and power," he declared with a commanding tone.
"T-tomorrow, My Lord," Mulciber stuttered, his voice quivering with a mixture of fear and unwavering loyalty. Nagini, the serpentine companion, slithered up his leg, her sleek body gracefully coiling around his left side, a symbol of their intertwined destinies. "I shall fulfill any task you bestow upon me, my Lord, unwaveringly and without hesitation."
The leader studied his loyal follower for a fleeting moment, his piercing gaze penetrating through Mulciber's very soul. With a click of his tongue, he prompted Nagini to instantly retreat from the trembling wizard, her scales glistening in the dim light, and slither back to her master with a satisfied hiss. "Leave," he commanded, dismissing his faithful servant.
Without wasting a moment, the three men hastily made their way out of the imposing manor, leaving only the young witch standing before the leader, her head bowed in deference. The silence hung heavy in the air, as anticipation mingled with curiosity.
"Why did it take you so long to accomplish the task I assigned to you?" he inquired, his voice laced with a hint of impatience.
The young witch, her voice filled with equal parts frustration and determination, responded, "My younger cousin, Sirius, proved to be an obstacle in our pursuit of the Cup, My Lord. Despite the aid provided by Narcissa, his loyalty to his own ideals and his infatuation with a particular witch led him to reject our family's cause."
The wizard pondered for a moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest of his ornate chair. With a sense of intrigue, he turned his attention back to the young witch. "Which witch has captivated his heart so thoroughly?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.
A disdainful sneer crossed the young witch's face as she replied, "He is completely infatuated with that witch, the one who dares to challenge our beliefs and stands defiantly against our cause."
This revelation sparked a fire of curiosity within the leader. "Tell me, my dear, which witch is it?" he pressed, his voice tinged with a mix of fascination and a desire for understanding.
The young witch, realizing the power in withholding information, chose to remain silent, allowing him to uncover the truth for himself. In a display of his formidable abilities, he delved into her memories, aided by her evident anger and resentment. Swiftly, he found the initial encounter, vividly portrayed as if it were etched in her mind. Their first meeting took place at the illustrious Malfoy Winter Solstice Ball, a grand event that brought together the elite of pureblood society. The young witch, a mere first-year at the time, possessed an ethereal beauty with her fair skin, rosy cheeks, and wide, captivating blue eyes. Her hair cascaded in white curls, a stark contrast against the darkness of the night.
Her appearance struck a familiar chord within the Dark Lord, as if awakening a long-dormant memory. It reminded him of a witch he had encountered during his several futile attempts at becoming a staff member, a seventh-year witch who bore the same features, right down to the small mole beneath her left eye. The memory transported him back to his own youth, a time when he was but a mere twenty-six years old, filled with ambition and the thirst for power.
If he hadn't been so consumed with power, he would have acted on the foreign feelings he had felt that day towards said witch. Who seems to have married and had a girl.
How could such a petite witch, so young and seemingly innocent, bewitch a pureblood wizard to such an extent? The question lingered in his mind, a puzzle waiting to be solved.
It wasn't until the young witch spoke, her voice carrying the wisdom of a mature woman and her expression displaying an indifference that belied her age, that he comprehended the depth of her power. In that moment, he realized that appearances could be deceiving, and that true strength and influence were not always bound by age or experience.
Withdrawing from the witches mind, he smiled, a genuine one that unnerved her. "I require to know everything about this girl. Something about her tells me that she had deep potential."