The Allure of Darkness

Prisoner

Riddle Manor [August 10th]

Hadrian Riddle passed through the halls of Riddle Manor, dragging his feet and digging his heels into the expensive marble floors. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his father, not now, not ever. Despite knowing that the Dark Lord was not a patient man, Hadrian intentionally took the long route across the massive estate, purposely doing all he could do delay the meeting.

When he crossed through the entrance to his father's wing, Hadrian Riddle stopped in his tracks. He could feel the dark magic nearly suffocating him the minute he stepped through the wards. His father wasn't simply angry. He was furious.

Hadrian considered his chances of turning and trying to floo back to the Lestrange Estate, where he had been hiding out for the summer. He even took a step back; only to run into the ward his father had put up once more to keep intruders out.

Or perhaps to trap him in.

The thought caused Hadrian to stiffen in undeniable fear. Shaking his head, he decided he really had no choice other than to answer to his father's summon. Sucking in a shaky breath, Hadrian forced himself to control his outward appearance. His father was already in a bad mood. Cowering in fear would only cause his father to become more enraged.

He reached his fist up to knock on the doors to his father's personal study. When the doors did not immediately open, Hadrian grew steadily more worried. Steeling his shoulders back, he straightened his cowering posture and pushed open the all too familiar double doors.

"Hadrian." His father greeted from the chair behind the impressive desk that was facing the window. Hadrian attempted to decipher his father's already blank expression, but the shadows from the window made it nearly impossible to tell what his father was thinking. "Sit."

It was a command, not a suggestion.

Hadrian hastened to throw himself into the stiff chair facing his father's desk, all the while trying to appear unfazed by the terrifying man in front of him. Hadrian fought to still the tremor that threatened to run through his entire body. He could nearly feel the crackling magical energy surrounding his father. Oh yes, the man was enraged.

There was a long moment of silence–long enough for Hadrian to nearly quiver in fear of what was to come–and then his father spoke.

"You..." he began quietly, "have murdered a part of my soul. You attempted to hide the fact that you destroyed part of my immortality. And in the process of this...conspiracy... you have ruined about seven of my future plans." The Dark Lord turned around slowly in his chair, staring at Hadrian with a deceptively calm expression. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Hadrian Riddle was not fooled by his father's bland expression. Though Lord Voldemort's voice was hardly above a whisper, Hadrian could easily detect the simmering rage that boiled just barely underneath his seemingly composed tone.

"Hadrian?" His father inquired sharply.

He winced, his gaze never straying from the dark marble floor. "Er... I'm sorry?"

It was apparently, not the right thing to say.

"Crucio." His father spoke, rising up from his desk to watch his son fall to the floor in silent screams.

Hadrian dug his nails into the cold floor, feeling the intense pain of his father's favorite curse–after the classic killing curse, of course– press into his body. He felt like the walls were closing in on him, and his vision became blurred with tinges of red. He closed his eyes, refusing to scream aloud; he knew screaming would only incite his father into increasing the intensity of the curse.