Descent - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter three

May 11th , 2 a.m. - Peverell's estate

They were here. They came sooner than we thought.

Panic assaulted my senses as the realization hit me. We were not prepared. All the situation briefings, all the planning, everything we had discussed just a few hours ago was suddenly completely worthless. We hadn't expected them to come so quickly. We thought we still had time, could still train, could still prepare ourselves properly for the lurking danger.

We were the ones who were supposed to know everything. Who, because of our long and strong bloodline, were supposed to have a superiority that could withstand any irregularity, any threat. We were the ones who would defy death, as our most famous ancestors had already done.

But all that was shattered in one fell swoop when Lord Voldemort himself, with a retinue of witches and wizards in black robes and silvery masks, burst into our, for decades so well-hidden, so well-protected home.

I grabbed my wand from my bedside table with a shaky hand, conjured a dual armor on my body and ran out of my room. I was scared, I had never felt weaker than I did at that moment, but now was the worst possible time for it. We would have to fight, because it was a do or die situation from which there was no other way out.

My family and our allies were already gathered in the entrance hall. Everyone wore a serious expression, cold and resolute, ready. But the fear in their eyes was as recognizable as the approaching war.

"I cannot divulge much more," my father's voice was grave, his words measured. "What we anticipated has come sooner than expected. We must now give our all. Remember our discussions, summon your strength and energy, and do not falter. We will not surrender what they seek without a fight."

With those final words, my father pushed open the large double doors, leading the others out. Just as I prepared to face the chilling night air and the impending danger, my father paused, holding me back for a moment.

"You are capable of this, Lucia. I have faith in you. You must have faith in yourself as well."

I looked at him and swallowed hard, then nodded. If believing in myself was the solution, I should never have had any problems... but it wasn't that simple.

But now was not the time for any kind of discussion. This was probably the last conversation I would have with my father, so I gave him the approval he expected.

I stormed out, only to stand rooted to the spot. The Death Eaters were there, a lot of them, taking up half of our lush grounds. But instead of attacking, instead of a fight breaking out right away, they just stood there, staring at us.

They clearly outnumbered us; we would probably go down in a fight. He didn't even have all his followers with him... since Harry Potter's death there had been so damn many.

We had powerful forces, but would they still be enough with such an array?

My father stepped out of the house behind me and took a few steps forward. He stood in front of the rest of us now, my mother and my brother Caleb right behind him.

At that moment, someone snaked out from between the death eaters. Chalky white skin, leathery. Red eyes that pierced the darkness of the night even from a wide distance. He had a downright terrifying grin on his lips, his hands playing with the wand in them. "Well, well, well..." an inhuman voice rang out, interrupting the temporary silence in an attempt, to start a conversation.

None of us made a sound, my father withstood the gaze of the almost serpentine figure who had proclaimed himself a Dark Lord.

"The Peverell family... or at least what's left of it. How utterly .... exciting..." he continued, a slight chuckle going through his entourage. They hung on his lips as if he were a god.