The Chosen One (MattheoRiddle x Ophelia)

Chapter 32

The scene was surreal, as the tension in the room was palpable. "Enough!" The woman's voice was incessant and grating, piercing the air with its annoyance. Suddenly, she rose from her seat, her wand appearing in her hand, pointed directly at me. It was as if she was ready to unleash all of her anger and frustration upon me, using every spell in her arsenal. Surprisingly, even the monster, Voldemort did not warn her, as if he had grown tired of her ceaseless complaints.

Reacting swiftly, I reached for my own wand, feeling the weight of its significance grip my hand. Almost involuntarily, in a husky voice I thundered "Sectumsepra". The spell erupted from the tip of my wand with such a force that before my eyes could snap, she stumbled backward, her body collapsing to the ground, as a macabre fountain of crimson began to pour forth.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was as if time itself had halted, holding its breath in anticipation of the somber scene that was unfolding before my very eyes. The gravity of the situation was palpable, and the air was thick with a sense of foreboding.

The intensity of the moment heightened, my father's gaze upon me, a blend of astonishment, admiration, and confusion. The situation was truly a harrowing one. Narcissa rushed over to the woman who was on the brink of death, and cradled her head in her lap. She tried everything in her power to stop the bleeding, but it was to no avail. The scene was one of pure horror, and I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of hatred towards everything the place, the situation, and the people involved.

In the depths of bewilderment, I found myself at a loss for understanding. The strength of the spell was far beyond the realms of my imagination. The weight of its consequences crashed over me like a dark tidal wave.

Like apparitions from the darkest corners of a haunted tale, two masked men came into existence before my eyes. Sinister intentions etched on their features, they walked towards the bloodsoaked body and swiftly lifted the woman and carried her away to an unknown destination. Within the whisk of the wand, Narcissa casted a spell and the floor returned to its original polished black shine.

Despite the shocking events that had just taken place, the meeting resumed as if nothing had happened. It was as if the horrifying scene had been nothing more than a fleeting nightmare, quickly forgotten.

The sinister grin reappeared on Voldemort's thin and gaunt lips, his cruelty and ruthlessness were palpable, radiating precisely from his very being. "I must say, I am quite proud of you, my dear Ophelia," he exclaimed, raising a glass that contained either wine or an ominous drink one could only speculate about. The air was tinged with an unsettling sense of unease, as if everything had taken an eerie turn.

Voldemort motioned for me to stand beside him, and a shiver of fear coursed through my veins. My trembling fingers nervously fidgeted with one another as I timidly positioned myself next to the royal chair on which he sat. His wand, ominously clutched between his bony fingers, moved towards my forehead in an attempt to brush away a lock of hair. My heart pounded with anxiety, yearning to rip that wand from his grasp and shatter it into countless pieces. But I couldn't allow my fury to consume me once more.

Satisfied that my face was unharmed, he tucked his wand back within the depths of his flowing black cloak. In this tension-soaked atmosphere, Voldemort's cold and commanding voice echoed through the dinning hall "Ophelia," he hissed, his voice laced with venom, "Remember your allegiance. Your loyalty to the Dark Lord shall be absolute. Fail me, and the consequences shall be dire, indeed."

A sense of dread settled deep within my core as I swallowed the bitter taste of fear. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.

I obediently took my seat next to Voldemort, my body trembling with both terror and apprehension. The meeting continued, but the words he spoke held no significance for me. My mind was consumed by fear, engulfed in a swirling tempest of dread. While the nightmares were certainly frightening, the reality of the situation was far more distressing.

In the midst of my turmoil, my eyes caught sight of Matthew, his gaze fixed upon me with an intensity that sent chills down my spine. His cold and emotionless eyes locked onto my own. His piercing brown eyes seemed to dilate as he narrowed his gaze upon me. I was utterly devastated and felt completely shattered. My only wish at that moment was to escape and let my tears wash away my pain.

As the meeting drew to a close, an eerie silence settled, signaling the departure of the death eaters. I was about to flee that horrid place when a cold, harsh voice called out to me, "Ophelia." I froze in my track only to turn around and find my father standing there. He gripped my forearm and dragged me to one of the spare rooms of the Malfoy Manor.