GAMES OF FATES (H.P/T.M.R)

Beginning of a Storm

As Marvolo Slytherin strode through the dimly lit corridors of the Ministry of Magic, a sense of anticipation thrummed through him. Today marked a pivotal moment in his grand design, the first Wizengamot session in nearly thirty years. With the cunning assistance of the goblins, he had meticulously forged an identity for himself as the grandson of the infamous Lord Voldemort. The name Marvolo Slytherin echoed in his mind, a symbol of dark legacy and power, named in honor of his great-grandfather, Marvolo Gaunt.

His backstory, simple yet potent, unfolded like an intricate tapestry. His mother, a pureblood witch seduced by Voldemort’s charm thirty years prior, had been left alone, her identity reduced to a mere footnote in the annals of extreme pureblood history. Her abandonment had stung like a venomous snakebite, driving her to Bulgaria, where Marvolo was born and raised. At Durmstrang Institute of Magic, he honed his skills, shaping himself into the dark wizard he was destined to become.

Clad in an impeccably tailored ensemble, Marvolo's attire was a statement of his intent. He wore a deep emerald waistcoat, finely embroidered with intricate patterns of serpents, their scales glistening as he moved. Beneath it, a crisp black shirt contrasted sharply, accentuating his presence. His cuffs were adorned with snake-shaped cufflinks that glinted ominously, each twist of his wrist revealing a shimmer of danger. Over his shoulders, a flowing cloak billowed dramatically, clasped with a serpent brooch that snaked around the fabric, holding it in place like a guardian of his secrets.

Marvolo's appearance was striking—his sapphire blue eyes sparkled with a cunning intelligence, a stark departure from the menacing red that had once terrified his followers. The blue was disarming yet captivating, a façade that concealed the chaos and darkness brewing within him. With every step towards the grand hall of the Wizengamot, he exuded an aura of confidence and ambition, his mind calculating every potential alliance and betrayal.

As he entered the opulent chamber of the Wizengamot, the atmosphere crackled with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. The room was vast, adorned with high ceilings and richly woven tapestries depicting the illustrious history of wizarding politics. The members, seated in a semicircle, represented a fragmented society—each faction poised to defend their beliefs with fervor.

Immediately, his gaze landed on Albus Dumbledore, the chief warlock presiding over the session. A flicker of hatred ignited within him; Dumbledore had always been a significant obstacle in his path. Memories of their last encounter surged back—he had been young and unprepared, stumbling through the political landscape, while Dumbledore had wielded power like a seasoned sorcerer. But Marvolo was no longer the novice; he had gathered strength, followers, and most importantly, wisdom in the art of manipulation.

The Wizengamot was a microcosm of the wizarding world, divided into three factions: the Light, the Grey, and the Dark. The Light was led by Dumbledore himself, with prominent members like the Weasleys, Prewetts, and Shacklebolts at his side. Their loyalty was unwavering, their ideals steadfast, and they stood as a barrier against the resurgence of darkness. In stark contrast, the Grey Faction, headed by Lord Jonathan Greengrass, was a wild card—respected yet ambiguous, with members sympathetic to the Dark Side. Marvolo had a begrudging respect for Greengrass; he was a pragmatist who understood the complexities of power dynamics.

And then there was the Dark Faction, currently commanded by Lucius Malfoy. Marvolo's lips curled into a smirk at the thought; Lucius was a loyalist, a puppet eager to dance to his tune. The Dark Faction was a congregation of the Sacred 28, with names like the Malfoys, the Blacks, the Lestranges, and the Mulsibors—all staunch supporters of Voldemort's legacy, willing to pledge their allegiance once more.

Marvolo had a plan, one that involved claiming both the Slytherin and Ravenclaw seats, solidifying his influence in the Wizengamot. The Slytherin seat was already aligned with the Dark Faction, a mere formality for him. The Ravenclaw seat, however, was a challenge; it lay with the Grey Faction. In his mind, he envisioned a coalition—one that would solidify his dominion over the wizarding world.