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

Echoes of Immortality

Marvolo Slytherin sat at the head of the long, dark table, his face unreadable, though the tension in his posture was clear. The Death Eaters around him were whispering amongst themselves, stealing glances at their master. The meeting had concluded, yet he hadn't dismissed them. His mind was elsewhere, far from the room, far from their schemes. He was consumed with thoughts of Cassopiea.

He had tried everything—legilimency, magical scrying, even their shared connection through the Horcrux. But it was all futile. Something ancient, powerful, and divine was blocking him. His frustration grew with each failed attempt. Shambhala, he thought grimly. A place he’d dismissed as myth when he'd first read about it in obscure magical texts. Now it seemed all too real, and it was keeping her from him.

The thought of her, pregnant and alone in such a place, gnawed at him. Five months along, and he hadn’t been able to protect her. He clenched his fists, his mind racing for solutions, when Bellatrix approached him.

"My Lord," she purred, holding out a glass of amber liquid. "You seem... troubled. Perhaps this will help."

He barely acknowledged her, taking the glass from her hand without a second glance. "Thank you, Bella," he said curtly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

"Are you worried about Potter?" she asked, her tone casual, though her eyes glittered with malice. "Don’t worry. We’ll take care of her. Finish her, as you wish."

Something snapped.

Marvolo moved so quickly that no one saw it coming. One moment Bellatrix was standing smugly, and the next, his hand was around her throat, lifting her slightly off the ground. His eyes burned with a fury that froze everyone in the room.

"Don't even think about harming a single hair on her body," he hissed, his voice low and venomous. "I swear to God, Bellatrix, if I ever find out that you—or any of you—" he turned to glare at the rest of the inner circle, who shrank back in terror, "—so much as touch her, I will hunt each of you down. I will kill you, revive you, and kill you again. Then I will turn you into inferi and burn you alive with Fiendfyre."

The room was deathly silent. Bellatrix’s eyes widened in shock, though a glimmer of something else—perhaps satisfaction—lingered there. Marvolo released her with a shove, causing her to stumble back, gasping for air. Without another word, he downed the drink in one gulp and stormed out of the room, his robes billowing behind him like a stormcloud.

As the door slammed shut, the corners of Bellatrix’s lips curled into a smirk. Her plan had worked. His reaction had confirmed everything she suspected—and now her time will come.

Cassopeia sat cross-legged on the floor of the cave, her eyes focused intently on the Bhagavad Gita in front of her. Her pregnancy was now undeniable, and with each passing day, the weight of the small life growing inside her became more real. Her baby’s movements had become more pronounced, and she cherished each flutter, even as the weight of the situation seemed to press down on her. Yet, despite everything, the one thing that felt like a steady anchor in her turbulent world was this book.

She had been reading it for over a week now, and something about the words seemed to reach into the deepest parts of her mind. The teachings of Krishna resonated with her more than she could have imagined. She wasn't sure why, but it felt as though everything she had been feeling, every doubt and uncertainty about her purpose, was reflected in the words of Arjuna and Krishna. "When situation goes out of hand, when you are not able to do anything with peace, Krishna says you should do one simple thing... Mam smar, yudh kar, take my name and fight the war." Those words were etched in her mind.

It felt like a lifeline—something to hold onto when everything felt so out of control. There was something about the notion of duty, of swadharma, that struck a chord with her. Her duty was above everything. But what was her duty? Was it truly to fight, to become the savior they called her, or was it something more?