Descent - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter seven

Mattheo

May 12th, 11:30 a.m.

I hadn't seen fit to visit the witch in the dungeons again, neither last night nor today. Allowing her time to stew would be the first step in breaking her and making her compliant.

After rising from bed and taking sustenance, I found myself making my way to the library. I had research to undertake before attending to my own endeavors.

The library at Hogwarts, once a sanctuary of knowledge and learning, had been also transformed under Voldemort's reign. Dark shadows loomed in the corners where once there had been light, and the air was heavy with the scent of decay and musty tomes.

Books on the darkest of arts now lined the shelves, mingling with volumes that once held the school's proud history. The absence of a restricted section spoke volumes about the library's new purpose; there were no longer boundaries to knowledge, only depths of darkness waiting to be explored.

The once orderly rows of books were now interspersed with scrolls, their ancient parchment crackling with malevolent energy. Some scrolls seemed to writhe with a life of their own, whispering forbidden incantations to those who dared to draw near.

Amidst the chaos, a new section had emerged, filled with folders and dossiers detailing information on enemies and wanted individuals. Here, Death Eaters could find the latest intelligence, strategies, and targets. It was a chilling reminder of the power Voldemort held over the wizarding world, his influence seeping into every corner of the once hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

A few Death Eaters were there, guarding the writings as if anyone would ever dare to even consider trying to enter the castle. Since my father had taken over Hogwarts and made it his headquarters, no one had dared to even venture into the immediate vicinity of the former School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It would have been nothing but their clear downfall.

As even Death Eaters would not miss the opportunity to sire successors to the pureblood rule, every corner of the library was teeming with children engrossed in their own studies, or at least pretending to be so as not to succumb to the wrath of their elders. Even though Hogwarts had long ceased to be a school, children were still being taught within its walls whenever someone had the time to spare. Of course, it was mainly about the dark arts because anything else would have been a waste of time. Knowledge of 'normal magic' was only passed on if it could spread destruction and pain in some way. In any case, most studies only consisted of spending hours immersed in heavy books and scrolls. Only those who could work and educate themselves were worthy of working under the Dark Lord and his persecutors, it was the survival of the fittest. It was not uncommon for those who did not deliver what was expected of them to be thrown out or killed outright.

We were in an eternally war, those who showed weakness were of no use.

My footsteps echoed a little, but I didn't make the slightest effort to be unfortunate. If you didn't want to be disturbed, you shouldn't be disturbed, it was quite simple. Some of the young, aspiring Death Eaters gave me grim looks as they were distracted from their studies, but a threatening glance from me was enough to see them disappear behind their books again.

When I reached my destination, the department where all kinds of files and dossiers were piled up, Élodie Laurent greeted me. She was in her early twenties, from France and as pure-blooded as almost everyone who now moved within the crumbling walls of this castle. She had come here with her family when I was in my sixth year, and she had been stalking me for about as long. She had the ridiculous notion that I would develop a romantic interest in her, but that was as unlikely as the resurrection of Harry Potter. The idea of being weak and open with someone made me sick, let alone getting closer in a way that could go beyond physical touch. The whole concept of what people labelled with the word love was nothing but a ridiculous trick of the mind to make something more out of interpersonal relationships than it is. Apart from that, Élodie Laurent was the definition of an exhausting ballast that served nothing more than to drive someone mad. This woman was probably beautiful in many men's eyes, but she would never really rise above the average. Not one interesting word had ever left her lips, and sometimes the words that did come out made one doubt her intelligence. For bearing the name Laurent, which in France had become a great and impressive, prestigious name in the history of the magical world, she was nothing but a sad shadow of a woman who always tried to bask in the light of others.