The Dark Mark
1979
The meeting room, located in a hidden cavern deep beneath an abandoned mansion, was dimly lit by enchanted flames. Crimson light cast an eerie glow on the faces of the figures assembled around the long, dark table. Members of the Inner Circle waited in hushed anticipation, their gazes drawn to the tall chair at the head of the table.
Volemort's red eyes scanned the room, pausing on each member of the Inner Circle—men and women bound to him by loyalty, fear, and dark promises. Among them were wizards of old, wealthy families. Their eyes met his, a silent acknowledgment of the deep ties that bound them. Their children sat amongst them, along with several other young witches and wizards, awaiting their chance to take the Dark Mark.
"Thank you all for coming," Voldemort began, his voice both mesmerizing and cold. "Tonight marks a pivotal moment in our war against the unworthy, the Mudbloods and their sympathizers. But before we proceed, there are oaths to be sworn, vows that shall seal your loyalty to me and our cause—forever."
The young witches and wizards rose from their seats, approaching Voldemort as he took out his wand. The air became thick with tension as they prepared to make the Dark Vow, a sacred and dangerous magical bond. Their wands connected, and a fiery tongue of magic enveloped their hands as they swore their vows of secrecy and loyalty, pledging themselves to Voldemort and his grand design.
A malevolent satisfaction spread across Voldemort's face as the magical fire extinguished, sealing the vow, the brand of the dark mark left behind on their skin.
"Excellent," he murmured.
"I can offer you power, strength beyond measure," he said, his voice low and persuasive. "Swear loyalty to me, and together we shall eradicate the filth that tarnishes the wizarding world. We will make it pure again."
The room was tense, charged with dark magic and darker promises. Voldemort's eyes flickered to Lucius Malfoy.
"Malfoy," he intoned, levitating his worn diary horcrux towards him. "Keep this item safe. Its significance is immeasurable to me, and it is a token of my faith in your loyalty."
Lucius Malfoy took the diary with a trembling hand, the weight of the object far greater than its physical size.
"And you, Bellatrix," Voldemort said, turning his attention to the witch, "I entrust you with another item of incredible importance."
With another flick of his wand, a golden cup floated towards Bellatrix Black, who took it cautiously, recognizing it as the famed Hufflepuff's cup, unaware that it was a horcrux.
"Black," Voldemort commanded, locking eyes with Regulus Black. "I require the assistance of a House Elf, trustworthy and discreet, to help me secure another object of great value."
Regulus hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Of course, My Lord, you may call upon Kreacher, the Black family Elf. He will obey your commands without question."
"Excellent," Voldemort said, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction. "With this, we take one step closer to our destiny—to a world where Purebloods reign, and the unworthy are vanquished."
As the meeting concluded, Voldemort looked around at his Death Eaters, these wizards and witches who had pledged themselves to his dark vision. It was a formidable group, bound now by oaths and by the seductive allure of untold power.
As they dispersed, departing the shadowy cavern one by one, Voldemort stayed behind, contemplating the dark path he had forged and the pieces now set in motion. They were steps on a journey, a journey towards a world remade in his image—a world where Lord Voldemort would reign eternal.
But as he stood there, lost in thought, a fleeting memory crossed his mind—a memory of Nagini, her eyes filled with an inscrutable blend of defiance and vulnerability, and a locket left behind in silent promise or farewell. For a moment, he wondered where she was, what she was doing, and whether their paths, darkly intertwined as they were, would cross again.
Pushing aside these thoughts, Voldemort turned away, refocusing on the tasks that lay ahead. After all, he had a war to win, and immortality waited for no one. Even so, the memory of Nagini lingered, a haunting enigma in a life increasingly dominated by certainties, a puzzle he had yet to solve.