Riddle Me This | Mattheo Riddle x OC

Prologue

Wednesday 15th July. Four years before the story begins.

It was night-time when he arrived. The soft swish of magic permeated his surrounding vicinity as he apparated to the front gates. Tall, black and menacing, they welcomed his arrival, polished to harshly reflect his face as he peered through the bars. 

His breath caught in his throat when a mousy, agitated man appeared before him. "D-do you h-have an appointment?" He stammered, attempting to look intimidating while quivering hands with long, dirty fingernails gripped the bars either side of his leering face. "Yes. I do, I was invited here by your Master." The man nodded, waving his hand over the gates. He stepped aside to allow the guest in, who entered with the tiniest of smirks on his face - he liked being feared.

As they walked, he looked up at the grand manor before them. The picture of luxury - with perhaps some conflict to achieve it. The halls were cold and void of joy or delight, men and women dressed in dark clothes passed by occasionally, whispering and glancing at the pair as they proceeded towards large black doors. The doors swung open on his nervous accomplice's word and a icy shiver gripped onto his spine when he caught a glimpse of his summoner. 

Lord Voldemort. Known by most as 'The Dark Lord' and deeply feared across the world. He sat at the head of an empty table, bony, pale hands clasped together. Upon seeing him, The Dark Lord beckoned the visitor to the chair on his left. "Nicholas, so good to see you. You must be wondering why I have called you here, I presume?" 

Nicholas nodded, "Yes my Lord, although I only felt honour at your summoning of me. What is it you wished to discuss?" The Dark Lord replied, "You have been a valuable member of my organisation for many years, and I can recall you being but seventeen when you first joined. Despite your loyalty over time, I have a request regarding your daughter - Ophelia, I believe?" Nicholas' heart sank. His precious daughter, she had only turned twelve four days prior and is about to begin Hogwarts. What could the Dark Lord possibly have in mind regarding her? 

"Yes, my Lord, her name is Ophelia. What about her?" Nicholas asked, quietly tapping his foot on the hardwood floor in apprehension. "Well, I'm sure that you are aware of the fact that when the time comes, she must become one of us. She must take up your legacy eventually, as my son must with mine." This was what Nicholas had been afraid of. He'd wanted to protect his daughter for as long as possible, yet there was nothing he could do. The Dark Lord's word was non-negotiable, so he must go against his own will. "When this time presents itself, I would like to request an alliance. One involving our two children, for the greater good." He continued. 

"My Lord..? What do you mean by an alliance?" Nicholas inquired, his hands shaking. "A relationship, Nicholas. This will be beneficial for all of us." Suddenly, the gut-wrenching sound of a tortured scream echoed from above and bounced off the walls in the room. Nicholas flinched, but The Dark Lord didn't react. For a moment, a triumphant look brushed over his face but in an instant it was gone. "Something wrong?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No... nothing of importance." Nicholas tilted his chin upwards proudly, remembering how privileged he was to be in the presence of an amazing Wizard. He ignored the remnants of pained shouts and cries, and left the vacuous manor with relief.

608 words