Darkness and Devotion - A Tom Riddle Story

The Dark Days

"IT'S BEEN THREE DAYS!" Tom roared as he smacked the Death Eater closest to him. The thunder boomed loudly as lightning struck close to where he stood. His voice lowered to a deadly cold tone that had everybody trembling. His rage—that fiery inferno where he yelled and hit them—was far less terrifying than the calm persona made of ice. "Where. Is. She?"

A younger Death Eater, a half-blood, stepped forward from the group. "My Lord, we've looked everywh—"

But he didn't get to finish his sentence before Tom cruciated him. The rest of them didn't flinch while the man writhed in pain. They were too busy fearing that they would be next. Many of them had found themselves at the wrong end of Tom's wrath.

"This is what she is going through while you are being useless! This is what your Dark Lady is being put through," He seethed as he looked over the group of pathetic imbeciles not even capable of tracking one of their own. Thunder boomed overhead. 

A storm had perpetually covered the area. It only got darker the longer Tom went without Evelyn. It was as if the weather responded to his rage. It had already killed several people with its high winds, strikes of lightning, and dark clouds. Muggle news stations thought that it was the most peculiar and unexpected storm to ever grace Scotland.

The Hogwarts students just referred to it as "The Dark Days". Several weeks of dark terror whilst surrounded by violent storms and an even more violent man. Somehow, they knew Tom was the cause of it, though none of them were brave enough to face him to find out.

He stopped his torture momentarily to smooth his hair and calm his expression, though his jaw was perpetually clenched, just as it had been for two days. "Now," he said quietly, "does anyone have anything useful to say?"

Tom calmly walked around, circling the group like a pit viper looking for its prey. They were fools who served his father and now him. Perhaps they were regretting the oath they took. The mark on their arm would never let them forget it.

Tom had called on his army the moment he returned to Hogwarts to find Evelyn nowhere. He thought that perhaps she had escaped back to the bedroom—something that irked him but something he could forgive nonetheless. But when he returned, she wasn't anywhere. Not the library nor their room, not the Great Hall nor the shores of the Black Lake. Mattheo hadn't seen her anywhere and neither had his friends. 

It was then that Tom attempted to pull at the bond between them only to find that it was blocked. At first, he thought that it had snapped, broken forever. He'd panicked for several hours before realizing that he faintly felt it. It wasn't dead. He couldn't track it, speak to it, or feel her but he knew she was alive. For now, that would have to be enough.

Tom pressed his wand to his arm and called his army to the Scottish Highlands. They appeared by the dozen until several hundred wizards with widened eyes stared at their new Dark Lord for the very first time.

It was then that Tom assumed his rightful position of power.

"Earlier this evening," Tom had boomed, "Evelyn Black was abducted from Hogsmeade by a group of radicals who think it wise to question my power. Your task is to bring her to me unharmed. Do this and you shall be rewarded."

A woman raised her hand. "My Lord, who is Evelyn Black?"

His jaw ticked. "My future wife and your future queen."

"But, sir,—"

A flash of green appeared and in seconds, the woman was dead. Tom's face remained cold as he once again addressed the group. "Do not question me or my power. If you do, your fate will be the same as hers. Find her. Now."