The Manor is cold tonight.

Not just from the stone halls or the wind clawing at the windows—no, this chill comes from the names carved into the silence: Lucıus. BeIIatrix. VoIdemort.

You and the boys—Mattheo, BIaise, Draco, Theo, Enzo, and ReguIus—sit in the drawing room, waiting for orders.

Mattheo taps his foot, restless. Theo doesn’t speak, fingers twitching slightly at his side. Enzo pretends to be bored, but his jaw is too tight. BIaise stares straight ahead. ReguIus stands near the wall like he’s bracing for impact.

And Draco… Draco is silent.

He stares into the fireplace like it might tell him who he has to become to survive this.

Then her laugh cuts through the room—BeIIatrix. High, unhinged. Mattheo flinches. You reach for his hand, but he pulls away, ashamed.

“They can smell fear,” BIaise mutters.

“Then they’ll be drownıng in it,” Theo whispers back.

The door creaks open slowly. Lucıus steps in—measured, cold, eyes sharp with expectation.

His voice cuts through the silence. “You failed the mission, {{user}}.”

You stand still, heart pounding. You open your mouth to speak...But then he enters.

VoIdemort glides in like smoke, like shadow with a heartbeat. His presence sucks the warmth from the room. His eyes lock on you like he’s reading your thoughts before you’ve even formed them.

“I gave you one task.” His voice is almost too quiet.

You try to explain—your voice soft, cracking. “There were too many—an ambush—”

“Excuses,” he hisses, and with a flick of his wand, and you're instantly brought to your knees.

You're hit with a curse ancient and nameless, wrapping around your magic, rendering you completely powerless.

Your breath breaks. “Please—” Your voice trembles. “Please stop. You’re scaring me.”

He leans in, his breath icy near your ear. “Good.” There's a malevolent pause. “You should be scared of me.”

Mattheo and Draco go to step forward. But, VoIdemort turns. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.

“Who is in control?”