Loyal | Tom Riddle

21: Patience

The dank underground reeked of ancient things untold and best left secret, of days-old plans coming to life with the breath of new blood.

A lone, dark figure stood before a masterfully carved wall in the form of a bearded man's face. His stone brows were heavyset and angled in eternal fury; his hair whipped about him in every direction.

"Soon," a smooth voice commanded, "but not yet."

"Masssssster," hissed another in a slithering, scaly tongue. "The time issss now."

"Patience," the first replied patronisingly. "Good things come to those who wait."

"I've done my waiting, sssssire -- centuriesssss of it!"

A bright smile glinted in the damp darkness. "When the time is right, you shall be free to rid our world of the filth that holds us back."

"We mussssst act now, my Lord," the second voice insisted. "Sssstop the sssstudentsss before they're curiousssss."

A cold, high-pitched laugh reverberated in the chamber. "No one would ever suspect me, you fool. I've been very careful, I've got every pathetic soul in this wretched school wrapped effortlessly around my finger."

"Whatever you ssssay."

"It's nearly complete," the shadowy figure added with great satisfaction. "Soon, we'll be unstoppable -- just two
more. . . . challenges."

✧ ✧ ✧

"I've made a decision," Tom Riddle announced, sweeping his cold gaze across each of his subjects.

The abandoned classroom, previously alive with the gentle hum of a dozen conversations, fell silent, all eyes focusing attentively on their leader.

His lips curled into a smile, making him appear rather haughty in the dim sunlight that floated through dusty panes of glass.

"As dark wizards," he began, "I felt that we should have a more. . . . powerful. . . . name. Something that would truly strike fear into the hearts of every Mudblood and blood traitor, something that is as powerful and fearsome as we are."

Murmurs of approval rippled through the rows of the amassed Knights of Walpurgis, who saw their numbers grow with every meeting. In the back stood Nikolai Travers, with his arms folded across his chest and an unreadable expression written on his face. His deep green tie was uncharacteristically askew, as was his general appearance -- his chestnut-coloured hair was dishevelled, his robes hung loosely off his broad shoulders, and heavy lilac bags encircled his blankly staring eyes.

"From now on," Tom said grandly, his dark eyes flashing as he paused for dramatic effect, "we shall be called Death Eaters!"

The murmuring swelled to a roar of applause and cheering, jarringly loud and out of place in the room that was normally devoid of life. Half-heartedly, Nikolai clapped from the background, still silently simmering.

"Welcome to a new era," Tom shouted over the elated din. "Welcome to a new era, of power and Darkness and taking back what is rightfully ours!"

As the whooping died down, Nikolai seized his chance and slipped out the door, pressing himself against its anicent wooden surface once it had closed. Catching his breath, he raised a shaking hand to his face, grimacing as intense pain shot up his arm.