Sequel to Modification
Estela's going back. Back to where it all started. Back to the place where everything changed. She's returning to resume the task she was given six years ago, and this time she isn't going to let anything stand in her way of...
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The Daily Prophet slammed onto the table before Albus Dumbledore, the various trinkets on his desk shuddering from the force. "He murdered them! In cold blood! Two innocent men!"
"I know-"
"They did nothing to him! Nothing! Yet he defiled their bodies like a monster just to prove a damn point! Just to prove that he's not a force to be reckoned with!"
"Alden-"
"I could have stopped him! I should have! And what infuriates me the most is that the Ministry can't find a single trace of evidence. Not one! Just like what happened with Michael..."
"Alden I understand what you're feeling-"
"Do you?" he snapped, turning on him, his eyes a green rage. "Do you really, Albus? Do you know what it's like living with them all? Obeying Riddle's every command like some little pet, doing his dirty work, seeing innocent people being blackmailed, tortured and now murdered! Do you know what that's like?" Dumbledore did not speak, he merely regarded him with poised tranquillity. Alden shook his head and let loose a long breath. "I'm sorry. I'm just-" He trailed off and slumped into a nearby chair, rubbing his temples with his fingers as though to soothe his racing mind.
"You're under a lot of pressure, Alden, I understand." Dumbledore's voice was soft when he spoke. "You've taken on a substantial duty, but you must remain strong. It is crucial if we are to have any chance of stopping more things like this from happening."
Alden nodded idly, running a hand through his hair. "When are the others arriving?"
Dumbledore looked down towards a strange little silver device on his desk that was humming and whirring wildly. "I should think they'll be here any moment now."
And surely, the door opened not a second later and in came a small group of people. Alden greeted them all in turn:
Alastor Moody, Caradoc Dearborn, Edgar Bones, Gideon Prewett and Marlene McKinnon.
They were a small bunch; after all, it was difficult to recruit members for the Order when you were fighting against a cause that hadn't truly begun its terror yet. But these people held Albus Dumbledore in such a high regard that they took his word as law, and trusted in him that they were here for a cause worth fighting for.
"So?" Alastor mumbled, staggering into the centre of the room and scanning every single inch, a mighty scar running down the side of his face. "Was it him, then? The two who were murdered today. Was it him?"
"It was Riddle, yes," Dumbledore replied calmly.
Marlene McKinnon raised a hand to hide the gasp that escaped her mouth, her eyes falling to the ground.
"Bloody monster," Alastor Moody growled, clenching and unclenching his large, scarred fists. "Sickening what he did to them. You should have seen the bodies – mangled and burnt to the crisp-"
