Lord Voldemort is a well-known alpha, famous because of his lust for power. Draco Malfoy, the son of one of the Dark Lord's followers: Lucius, is an omega. The Malfoy Lord, ashamed of a Omega son, has done everything in his power to keep his son's s...
Previously on When the Devil Falls - "I was right. I should have killed you. I should have killed you the day you were born. Narcissa, you begged me, didn't you, to give him a chance? See what has happened. I kept you, I fed you, I clothed you, I bought you everything you wished for and this is how you repay me. THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME!" screamed Lucius, overcome by murderous rage.
Driven by a sadistic fury, Lucius unleashed the Cruciatus Curse upon Draco, who crumpled to the ground, convulsing in pain. Agony surged through every inch of Draco's body until unconsciousness mercifully claimed him. Lucius, finally satisfied, stormed out of the room, leaving Draco sprawled on the cold floor. Narcissa cast a fleeting look at her son, torn between fear and loyalty, before reluctantly following Lucius out the door.
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The Dark Lord apparated in front of Gringotts, the towering bank that housed the secrets and treasures of the wizarding world. He had business to attend to, matters that required his intervention. Earlier, he had refused Bellatrix's offer to retrieve whatever he desired from her vault, choosing to handle the task himself.
Now, holding the key in his hand, Tom Riddle walked into Gringotts, the grand marble hall seemingly unchanged since his last visit, except for the faces of the goblins. Approaching the front desk, he declared, "I wish to meet Gobluk."
The goblin at the front desk regarded him suspiciously before summoning the manager of the black vaults. In a private room with only the two of them, Tom Riddle stated, "I wish to withdraw something from the Black vaults."
"And you might be?" the goblin inquired, in a tone that was practiced. Well, this was protocol after all.
"Thomas Gaunt. I have the key," Tom replied calmly, his crimson eyes meeting the goblin's gaze.
"Gaunt? The line died ages ago," the goblin remarked, a hint of disdain in his voice, showing signs of growing anger.
"Take my inheritance test," Tom instructed. The goblin snapped his fingers, and a long parchment and a beautifully crafted silver dagger appeared on the desk.
"Seven drops of blood on this," the goblin instructed.
Tom Riddle obliged, slicing his palm with the silver dagger and allowing seven drops of blood to fall onto the parchment before the wound magically began to seal itself, leaving no scar in its wake. The goblin scrutinized the results, his demeanour shifting as he processed the information before him.
