Surviving Fate // Mattheo Riddle ♣️

Chapter Two - Together

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3,046 words.

I don't know what time it was when I woke up the next morning. I knew it was the day at least. The bright sun beaming in through the window told me that.

I had to focus. That was what I had to do. Taking a deep breath, I put on the nearest clothes to me and exited the room.

The halls of Malfoy Manor all looked the same. The house, although it didn't look like it, was quite large. I had often asked myself if the exterior matched the interior. If what we saw on the outside before entering the house was the same as what we saw when we entered.

I didn't know where I was going. Only that I was walking. Only that I was thinking.

I needed a focus. Something or someone to keep me grounded, but it couldn't be my dad. He was gone, and I was too angry at my uncle for leaving to think happy thoughts when I needed to.

Perhaps I could focus on my mother. On the thought of having her back in my life. Of having her back. Yes, I missed years of moments with her, but that was something I had to reach for. For the memories I was yet to make.

"I do not know," a voice spoke.

Turning to the right, I found a door. One that wasn't entirely closed and through the opening, I could hear voices. Two of them.

"She must be ready for this," the second voice told the other. I knew that rasping tone. Voldemort.

Moving towards it slowly, I leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the figures in the room. I could see the Dark Lord clearly, his body sat in a chair. The other, the first voice that had spoken stood before him, back facing me.

"You are asking her to kill her Headmaster my Lord. I do not know what you expected, but she was not going to be overly keen on your orders," the voice that wasn't Voldemort's spoke.

I furrowed my brow. I knew that voice. I knew it well, but why couldn't I place it? The more I tried to listen, the more it became distorted and unclear. The tone of their voice seemed to escape my mind as I listened to their words.

"She killed Mr. Crouch," he replied.

"The Obscurus killed Barty," they told him. "Not her."

I watched as Voldemort nodded slowly. "Will she be ready then?" he asked. "For killing Dumbledore when the time comes?"

His tone was odd. Nothing like I had heard it before. It was as though he was interested in what the figure in front of him had to say. If there was one thing about Voldemort that I had learned it was that no one's opinion but his mattered, but this... person seemed to be someone the Dark Lord valued. Who are you?

"Yes, I believe she will."

"You're going to get caught," a different voice told me, and I turned quickly, finding my mother standing in front of me. No, not my mother. The Obscurus.

Piss off. I told her, turning back to the room.

When my eyes landed back in the room, both of the figures were gone. As was the chair Voldemort had been sitting in. Instead, a small, circular wooden table stood there, a golden stand settled on its surface, and in that stand, a glowing blue orb. A Prophecy.

Its glass exterior was cracked, as though it had dropped. It was the Prophecy I had picked up in the Ministry. What was it doing here?

"Go in," a voice told me. The Obscurus stood beside me.