Dark Ascendancy | Tomarry

| Shadows of Doubt

As the day of the gathering approached, whispers grew louder within the ranks of the Death Eaters. Speculation swirled like dark tendrils, curiosity mingling with apprehension. Among them, Bellatrix Lestrange harbored doubts that whispered like ghosts in the corridors of Malfoy Manor.

Bellatrix sought an audience with Tom and Harry, her eyes ablaze with fervor and suspicion. "My Lords," she began, her voice a sharp edge, "there are murmurs among our ranks. Whispers of doubt, of uncertainty."

Tom regarded her with a measured gaze, his demeanor as composed as ever. "Explain, Bellatrix," he commanded, his tone carrying a weight of authority that brooked no argument.

"The wedding," Bellatrix spat out the word as if it left a bitter taste on her tongue. "Some question its timing, its motives. They see it as a distraction, a vulnerability."

Harry, usually the more temperate of the two, felt a flicker of irritation at the implication. "Our unity is our strength," he asserted, his voice firm. "The ceremony is a symbol of that strength, not a weakness."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed, but she held her ground. "Forgive me, My Lords, but not all see it that way. Some wonder if sentiment clouds judgment, if personal matters overshadow our cause."

Tom's expression darkened slightly, a storm gathering behind his eyes. "Our cause is clear," he stated, his voice cutting through the tension. "And those who question it will be reminded of where their loyalties lie."

The meeting ended with a tense air lingering, shadows of doubt cast but not yet dispelled. As preparations continued, whispers grew louder, echoing the uncertainty that threaded through the ranks.