Deceptions-(Drarry)

Thirsty Dark Lord and the future foretold

Okay, guys... I uhuh had malaria, typhoid, viral, cold and yeah, the worst- a bloody massive writers' and readers' block for months and then my term examinations started... Now I'm on Dusshera week so, I'm relatively free, as much as a medico can ever be... I know you guys won't believe me, but I had this ch in my drafts with around 4k words for like two months, but I didn't want to serve you guys an undercooked dessert-So, HERE YOU GO! A WHOLE DAMN MEAL WITH AROUND 11k words~~~

 "Will the world end in darkness because it is foretold? Or because there will be those who believe it so strongly they will make it so?"

― Patrick Ness,

The wind bellowed forth with an almost primaeval fury, tearing through the landscape with an unremitting force that appeared intent on stripping away the very essence of atmospheric stability. Dust and debris ascended above the ground, caught within the maelstrom of wind currents, while lightning etched its brilliance upon the heavens in jagged, incandescent strokes, casting an eerie luminosity upon the firmament.

The rain descended in a torrential downpour, its drops pattering upon the ground like a thousand tiny drum beats. Above, the clouds unleashed their symphony of thunderous echoes, as if nature itself were proclaiming its grandeur. This cacophonous display seemed to reverberate through the very core of the earth, a reminder of its enduring vitality, as the light of a dull-looking room flickered back and forth, casting a shade of silver and cold on the cold black floor.

"Feed me, Wormtail-" A high-pitched voice echoed in the midst of the crackling sound of the burning firewood followed by a rather squeaky screech of a man dressed in a long black cloak as he rushed toward the source of the demand, his bald patch of glassy head shined as did the glass bottle in his hand filled with a strange yellowish fluid as he practically skipped across the room.

"Y-Y-Yes Mas-ster, here y-you go-" The squeaky man uttered nervously as he raised the nozzle of the bottle toward what seemed like a bundle of robes resting on the chair beside the fireplace.

Something inside the bundle of robes stirred, as though something was trying to free itself from the layers and layers of rusty jagged fabric. The half-bald man let out yet another squeak as he, with his other hand, pulled open the robes, parting them slightly.

The cackling flames from the fireplace shimmered as a head peeped out from the opening, and even Wormtail couldn't help but wince a little. With shaky hands, he now put the nozzle to what seemed like scaly, jagged lips of the head, which looked like a human child, except it was ugly, slimy, and, more importantly, blind by the looks of its eyes. It was hairless and scaly looking, as if it were some proto hybrid of a snake and an inferi. No child alive ever had a face like that—flat, snakelike. The thing then somehow blinked open its rusty eyelids, revealing gleaming red eyes.

"You are late—" The zombie-like figure commented icily as he slurped the yellowish substance from the bottle, and the other man seemed on the verge of trembling in his pants.

"I- I- am- S-Sorry, My L-Lord- N-Nagini was- out to-"

The man couldn't complete his sentence as the figure in the robes sighed, "Wormtail, Wormtail," said the cold voice silkily, "You are quite fortunate, as I do have plans for you in the future. Or perhaps I should summon my other beloved followers. Surely there are those who would give their lives for the opportunity to serve their lord—someone with intellect, someone with unshakable loyalty..."

" I found you" suddenly said Wormtail, and there was a sulky edge to his voice as he continued surprisingly without stutters, "I am your most faithful servant, my lord, I was the one who found you. I brought you Bertha Jorkins."