~✧~
"Samuel is to be transferred to Azkaban at 10pm sharp. His hearing is already at 9:00 p.m. and we'll be there then," Tom announced.
"But should we really all go in there completely obviously and then just start a riot," Leo asked a little dubiously.
"No, I've brewed Polyjuice Potion, with an improved formula, so we shouldn't have any problems getting in there. Conspicuously into the audience I only want you four anyway," Tom informed, "Taraphina and I will enter elsewhere afterwards understood?"
They all nodded.
"I have made masks that we will wear during the raid. As long as it is possible, it is better if our identities remain secret for now. Any leaflet with our weight on it only puts us at greater risk. For now, the Ministry can continue to wonder who started the revolution for a while."
~✧~
A shaky breath escaped Samuel Rosier as he lounged on the floor with his back to the door. His cell was dark and cold. Not even a carpet lay on the floor. The cool iron handcuffs cut into his wrists and made his hands go numb. He didn't quite understand how he had ended up with her. He had merely received an order from Tom to go to Burgin and Bones and pick up antiques deposited in Tom's name. His way there had been uncomplicated and boring, he had broken no rules or laws. He flew there with his broom and landed safely at the village border. No Muggle would have been able to recognise him on the Nimbus, he was far too high up and used appropriate spells to disguise himself. But even if never in his life, a wizard seen by a Muggle would be treated like a felon-.
The key turned in the lock and the door flew open.
"Mr. Samuel Rosier your hearing will take place shortly," informed a still quite young employee of the Ministry.
Without saying anything, Samuel looked the man in the eye with a frown.
"Come on, rise, you have ten minutes to freshen up before you are brought before the judge."
He rose and let the man grab him by the upper arm. Unsure of what Tom would want to do now, he decided to just keep an eye on his surroundings for the time being. The clerk's wand was in his right coat pocket and was certainly easy to steal if he covered it with a stumble. Otherwise, there were very few people in the wing. Presumably everyone was busy looking after the prisoners in the cells, after all almost all the cells were full and only a stop-gap solution until the court proceedings were completed.
When the man with him stopped in front of a washroom, Samuel held out his handcuffs to him. The hope was there that he would take them off him, but of course he did not. It was not for nothing that they had given him a custom-made pair that prevented him from performing even a small spell through non-verbal magic.
The small connecting chain between his clamps was disconnected and just as he was about to step over the threshold, the man shook his hand and wished him good luck.
Was that paper?
He nodded and clenched his fist around the small piece with a rough surface. Then he disappeared into the washroom, making sure no one would be there but him.
Gingerly he opened the small piece of paper.
'Let them know about us.'
-Lord Voldemort
He was there, he knew that now.
So today was the day they would celebrate their ascension.
He looked down at the parchment on the washstand and watched as it slowly began to smoke. Slowly, embers formed and a small fire started. Only a small burn mark remained on the surface of the washstand.
Thus the trace of Lord Voldemort was destroyed again. But soon many new ones would follow. A mystery for not only the Ministry would come, but for all wizards, whether pureblood, half-blood or mudblood. They would all wonder who Lord Voldemort and the Knights of Walpurgis were.
They would only know about him, he was aware of that now, but equally he knew that he had nothing to fear under the protection of Tom Riddle and Taraphina. They were both uncannily powerful and today would be the first day they would prove their powers.
The room was impressive, Samuel had to admit. The magnificent glass dome made the whole room seem brighter and the second level, where more people could be seen, had an intimidating effect.
As instructed, he sat down on a bench where apparently more wizards were sitting waiting to be heard.
After 10 minutes, he was again grabbed by the arm and taken to the chair standing in the middle of the room. He looked at the judges.
"Samuel Rosier," the eldest judge began, focusing on a piece of parchment, "you are accused of gathering secret information against the Ministry and carrying out suspicious acts with them."
Samuel swallowed, but remained calm and composed. He did not know where these accusations would come from, but said nothing.
"Documents from Burkin and Bones' inventory also charge them with acquiring illegal brewing substances. Tell me, were they planning a deadly attack at the Ministry with them?"
Tom had never had such a specific plan discussed with him before, he was unsure what to answer.
"Possibly," he gave confidently.
The eldest judge looked at him with a cold expression, "Is this a joke to you, Mr Rosier?"
He shrugged his shoulder, "In a way it is."
"Are you aware of your very probable career in Azkaban?" he asked, putting on a pair of thin-rimmed glasses.
"Yes I am aware of that," he agreed.
The judge eyed him with an indistinct expression and sighed. He took out a pen and began to write the first letter of his sentence.
Samuel settled calmly against the back of the chair. As he did so, the somewhat new vantage point allowed him to see a darkly dressed girl in a skirt, blouse and blazer. Her hair was tied in a tight bun, quite unlike her usual style. He looked into her eyes and she nodded.
"You know, I don't think I'll end up in Azkaban, though."
The judge looked up and gave him a confused look, "Why not?"
Samuel licked his lips and leaned forward, "He's here."
The judge's brow furrowed and people in the audience began to whisper quietly.
"Who is here?"
"Lord Voldemort," for the first time he spoke the name in public.
"Who is he?" another judge on the right edge of the podium wanted to know.
"The one you will fear, the one whose name you will not dare speak, the one who will revolutionise the world. The one who will redeem us true wizards."
"Rosier, who is that," another judge interjected.
The boy turned his head towards him, a confident grin played around his lips and unsayingly he raised a brow.
It cracked.
Samuel himself was puzzled as to where the sound was coming from, but already a moment later he knew the answer as the mighty glass dome fell to the ground and a thousand shards decorated the floor. A small cut was left on his cheek, but otherwise he was unharmed.
Panicked screams pierced the hall, which had just been dead silent. The doors were flung open, wizards in black suits rushed in and pointed their wands at him. Normal witches and wizards rushed out.
"Surrender Rosier," one of the men shouted and ten more came rushing to surround him.
"I'm already tied up, aren't I?" he said, rising slowly and then kneeling on the floor and raising his bound hands in surrender.
Unsure whether to approach the boy, the men watched him briefly, wands drawn and prepared to attack.
Just as one was about to make the first move, his cuffs suddenly popped open and fell with a thud to the shards on the floor.
The smile on Samuel's face grew. Suddenly he felt a presence land behind him. The men who had surrounded him were hurled against the walls of the room by an invisible force before they could utter a spell.
Screams echoed again.
Slowly, Rosier turned and looked at his leader, cloaked all in black and made unrecognisable under a magnificently designed mask.
Gratefully, he nodded to Tom and the very next moment the fight started. More men rushed into the room, narrowly missing him with flashes of red.
His name was called and he immediately turned in the direction from which Abraxas' voice was obviously coming. His wand flew through the air and deftly he caught it and stood at Tom's side to fight the many Ministry security guards.
Lightning flashed through the air, and now and then some of the shards. They were definitely outnumbered, not only Samuel noticed, but also Abraxas, Theodore, Leo and Louis. They would be lying if they said they didn't feel at least a little restlessness in their bodies. Tom remained calm and the boys knew why. They knew that they should actually have just as little to worry about because they still had their precious wild card; Taraphina.
She hadn't shown her face yet, but it wouldn't be long before her mission would come. Only then would Taraphina come and spread the panic that Tom wanted from everyone in the form of respect and recognition. He was sure he could convert people, the more who would join him, the faster they would grow, the more followers he would get.
Leo's wand was flung from his hand, painfully holding his hand, which swelled with a heat spell and was adorned with a large burn plase.
Not a minute later, Abraxas and Louis had also lost their wands. Seeking shelter, they ran along the flying lightning and spells to Tom and Rosier in the middle of the room. Theodore joined them as well.
A few more spells were thrown around, but soon the chance of winning seemed too slim for the youths to even continue the fight. Tom was the first to raise his hands in surrender and drop his wand on the ground in front of him. Nott and Rosier followed his example and soon they were all standing there with no escape from capture in sight. The men surrounded them again, wands raised high.
If only they knew that they had not fought so badly for a long time.
"Take the masks off your faces and get on your knees," one ordered.
Tom sighed, slowly dropping to his knees, a shard pierced through the black fabric of his trousers and stabbed into his knee. A good pain shot through his body, reminding him of his stamina to want to win the fight.
"Remove the masks and clasp your hands behind your head," he ordered further.
Tom continued to raise his hands and clasp them behind his head as instructed. The other boys followed his example.
"Unclasp the mask take it off!"
A grin formed under the object of pretence. Tom shook his head, "Nothing and no one will make me take this mask off my weight," he said.
"Then I will personally rip it off your face," decided the same Ministry man who had been speaking to him all along just now.
"Then come here and feel free to do it," Tom teased. He knew the man was already more than angry by this 'would-be' attack.
The man shared a glance with the spells to his right, a nod securing his back. He strode forward slowly, but with a firm expression. Tom had become an ace at analysing people's body language. As good as the ministry employee's poker face was, he saw through it and recognised the fear hiding behind his mask.
He came closer, the shards crunching between the sole of his shoe and the floor.
He came to a stop in front of Tom, "Let's see who's behind the would-be reign of Lord Voldemort then."
He held out his hand. But what was it? It sounded like a growl. By no means was this a human one.
Suddenly a roar rang through the silence. The man stared down at Tom. He couldn't see through his mask, but he was sure Tom was about to taunt him with a magnificent smile. And he was quite right.
Tom nodded upwards and just as the man also decided to lift his gaze. A huge black panther leapt from the balustrade and landed in the circle of rebellious wizards. The shards dug into her body between the pads of her paws, but that pain did not stop her. She was capable of withstanding more agony. Today she would prove it once and for all.
Tom knew she would act now, he knew she would not allow him to fall to his knees before anyone but her. He knew she wanted to be the only one he would show that respect to. He knew she would not let him lose his pride and respect.
Soon the first deaths would fall under his new name.
~✧~
𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙, 𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝖜𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗
~✧~