Riddles Past and What's Behind It (Demo)

Involuntary

3 WEEKS LATER...

The Dark Lord Voldemort stood on the outskirts of the Russian city of Krasnodar, his crimson eyes scanning the horizon. He had come to this remote region to seek out new allies for his cause, to expand his ranks of Death Eaters and gather more power.

As he made his way through the city, he came upon a grand estate nestled in the hills. It was a sprawling complex, with high walls and imposing gates.

Voldemort felt a familiar pull, a sense that there were powerful wizards within. He approached the gates, his wand at the ready.

But as he approached, he was met by a group of wizards, their wands drawn and aimed directly at him. They wore the crest of the powerful Vassilev family, one of the oldest and most respected wizarding families in Russia.

"What business do you have here, Dark Lord?" one of the wizards asked, his voice cold and menacing.

Voldemort sneered, his wand hand twitching with anticipation. "I am here to speak with the leaders of this family," he said. "I seek their support in my quest for power."

The Vassilev wizards exchanged a knowing glance. They had heard of Voldemort's exploits, of the destruction he had wrought throughout Europe. They knew that he was a dangerous and unpredictable force.

But they also knew that they could not deny him entry. To do so would be to risk his wrath, and the wrath of his Death Eaters.

They opened the gates, allowing Voldemort to enter the estate. He made his way through the grand hallways, his footsteps echoing off the marble floors.

Finally, he came upon the head of the Vassilev family, a tall and imposing wizard named Ivan.

"What do you want from us, Dark Lord?" Ivan asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

"I seek your support," Voldemort said. "I am building an army, and I believe that your family could be a valuable asset to me."

Ivan considered Voldemort's request for a moment, his eyes narrowing. He knew that aligning himself with the Dark Lord was a risky proposition, but he also knew that the Vassilev family could benefit greatly from such an alliance.

"I will consider your proposal," Ivan said. "But know this, Dark Lord. If you betray us, if you bring harm to our family or our interests, we will not hesitate to bring you down."

Voldemort smiled, his eyes glittering with malevolent glee. "I understand completely," he said.

As he left the estate, he knew that he had gained a powerful new ally. But he also knew that he could never let his guard down, that he would have to remain vigilant if he was to achieve his ultimate goal of domination and control.

After his successful meeting with the Vassilev family in Krasnodar, Voldemort made his way to the Azerbaijani capital of Baku, determined to continue his search for new allies and supporters.

As he walked the streets of the city, he came upon a large family gathering, with dozens of wizards and witches celebrating a wedding in a grand outdoor courtyard.

Voldemort approached the family, his wand hidden beneath his robes. He introduced himself as a powerful wizard seeking new followers, but the family patriarch, a proud and defiant man, refused to join him.

"We will never bow to your tyranny, Dark Lord," the patriarch declared, his voice echoing across the courtyard.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. He had little tolerance for those who dared to defy him.

"You will do as I say," he hissed, pulling his wand from his robes. "Or you will suffer the consequences."

The family stood firm, their resolve unbroken. They would not bow to Voldemort's demands, no matter the cost.

With a flick of his wand, Voldemort cast the Imperius Curse on the patriarch, bringing him under his control. The man's eyes glazed over, and he began to nod his head in agreement.

"Excellent," Voldemort said, a cruel smile playing across his lips. "You will follow me, and you will do my bidding. And if any of your family members attempt to stop you, they will suffer the consequences."

The family members watched in horror as the patriarch, now completely under Voldemort's control, turned and followed him out of the courtyard.

They knew that they had just lost one of their own, and they feared that they would lose more before Voldemort was through with them. They vowed to stay strong, to resist the Dark Lord's tyranny and fight against his oppression.

But deep down, they also knew that they were up against a powerful and dangerous foe, one who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. They wondered how many more would fall before Voldemort's reign of terror was brought to an end.

NEXT DAY...

Voldemort stood on the sun-drenched beaches of Cyprus, his eyes scanning the horizon. He had come to this idyllic island nation to gather supplies and resources for his growing army of Death Eaters.

As he walked the streets of the capital city, he came upon a small shop tucked away in a quiet alleyway. The sign above the door read "Magical Supplies and Provisions".

Voldemort stepped inside, his wand at the ready. He was greeted by the shop's proprietor, an old wizard with a long white beard and a twinkle in his eye.

"Welcome, Dark Lord," the old man said, his voice warm and friendly. "What can I do for you today?"

Voldemort eyed the shelves, taking in the vast array of magical items and provisions. He knew that he needed to restock his supplies if he was to continue his quest for power.

"I require a great deal of supplies for my army," Voldemort said. "Everything from wands and potions to weapons and armor. Can you provide me with what I need?"

The old man nodded, his smile unwavering. "Of course, Dark Lord," he said. "We pride ourselves on having the best selection of magical supplies and provisions in all of Cyprus."

Over the next several hours, Voldemort and his Death Eaters combed through the shop, selecting everything they needed for their upcoming battles. They stocked up on potions and spells, wands and brooms, and a variety of enchanted items designed to aid them in their conquest.

The old man watched as the Death Eaters gathered their supplies, his heart heavy with sorrow. He knew that he was helping a dangerous and evil force, but he also knew that he had little choice in the matter. To refuse Voldemort's requests would be to risk his own life and the lives of those he loved.

As Voldemort and his Death Eaters left the shop, their arms laden with supplies, the old man couldn't help but wonder what kind of world they were creating. He feared for the future, for the safety and well-being of all those who would stand in Voldemort's path. And he knew that he could only do so much to stop the tide of darkness that was sweeping across the wizarding world.