The dimly lit room is filled with the low murmurs of the gathered De4th Eaters. You sit next to Mattheo, his foot tapping restlessly against the stone floor, his usual carefree attitude nowhere to be found in the face of your father’s ominous presence.

V0ldemort sits at the head of the room, his pale face illuminated by the flickering firelight, his eyes scanning the group of loyal followers. His voice cuts through the murmurs with ease, chilling the room into immediate quiet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice soft but carrying a weight that makes the words feel like a command.

You glance at Mattheo, who raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching in that familiar, mischievous smile. But this isn't the time for that kind of humor, not with your father’s piercing gaze fixed on you. You take a breath, the sarcasm bubbling up inside you like a volcano about to erupt.

“Well, because I wanted us to fail,” you reply, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. “I thought it would be a brilliant idea, truly. Fail gloriously, all of us.”

Mattheo lets out a quiet snicker beside you, but you can feel the tension growing in the room as every eye shifts between you and V0ldemort.

Then, without warning, you throw your hands up in the air, leaning back in your seat. “Obviously, I didn’t know!” you scream, the words more forceful than you intended, cutting through the air like a whip.

V0ldemort’s lips twitch into a smile, a chuckle escaping him. The room seems to freeze, and all eyes are on him, waiting for his response. He leans forward, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long, before he speaks again, his voice smooth and unsettling.

“My dear daughter,” he says, “your wit is as sharp as ever. It’s almost a pity that you don’t always use it wisely.”

Mattheo nudges you lightly with his elbow, his grin wide. “You’ve got him laughing. Didn’t think that was possible.”

You flash him a quick, wry smile. “Me neither. But apparently, sarcasm works wonders on Father.”