Spirals || Mattheo Riddle

꩜ Chapter 60 ꩜

Mattheo's POV

The Death Eaters had not been gone long before Lucius came to get me. I sat against the stonewall of the Dark Manors courtyard smoking what I hoped would be my last cigarette. I wanted to give up, it was a filthy habit.

"Mr Riddle. I come bearing a message. Your father wants you."

I sighed, flicking the embers off the end of the roll and breathing out the last of its smoke. I felt tired, more tired than I had been in my life. The weight of my actions and responsibilities sat heavy on my shoulders, dragging me down until my will broke and I was left an empty man.

I stood and nodded to Malfoy, wondering briefly if he would survive tonight. His family was still in disgrace, his name still a tarnish in my fathers eyes. Only my pity for Draco had saved them. He was never going to kill Dumbledore, not that I blamed him.

The sky was empty of its glistening stars, like a shadow cast upon the world by the darkness of this night. I tipped my head back, letting the cool air fill my lungs for one silent moment before I apparated towards my fathers call.

The air around me quickly became damp and the smell of must filled my senses. Water lapped against the side of the dock where I stood. I could sense my father inside the boat house, his magical signature like a beacon of fear. He was different in a way I couldn't explain.

Nagini hissed anxiously when I entered the small structure. She slithered close to the walls, staying within the range of my fathers feet.

"There is no wand more powerful. Ollivander said it himself." My fathers voice rang out onto the cold of the lake. His robes dragged across the floor boards behind him as he paced away from me.

"What wand, Father?"

The Dark Lord chuckled as if I were a child. "The Elder Wand."

Tension crept over my body. The Elder Wand was something of legend or fairy tales. It was a children's tale, something told as bedtime stories. 'The most powerful wand in creation', supposedly. But it didn't exist, did it?

His difference in power and attitude, it came down to how powerful he felt he was. "The thing you have been searching for. The ultimate weapon? You found it," I uttered, casting my eyes to the pale, bone-like wand that hung from my fathers fingertips.

"You were always clever, Mattheo," he commented. "But it does not truly answer to me. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. Surely you must know, where does its true loyalty lie?" He questioned.

My blood began pounding as I came up short. My father did not throw around compliments, let alone use my given name so commonly. "I apologise, my Lord, I do not."

He paused, looking back at me with slitted eyes. His skin was a pale green in the light reflecting off the water.

My father was terrifying, looking at him. He was the stuff of nightmares, the thing you searched for in the dark when your eyes played tricks on you. Yet he gave me life, purpose, for some reason. I sometimes wished I had never existed at all.

And as I looked into his monstrous eyes, I found my own loyalties had found a new place to reside. I realised I owed this man nothing.

"Ah. You truly do not know," he looked down at the wand in his hand, something close to remorse coming over his expression. "This wand belonged to Albus Dumbledore during his life. You killed Dumbledore, my son. While you live, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine."

I froze, understanding washing over me like ice water. "Father-"

He tsked quietly. "You have been a good and faithful servant Mattheo, but only I can live forever."