Slytherin Boys' Dormitory -- December 19th, Night
The castle felt quieter than usual.
Not the stillness of sleep or snowfall or the muted silence of exams-- this was the quiet that came before a storm. Before change.
He stood beside his trunk, folding his robes with practiced precision, each item arranged with military neatness. His wand case was already secured. Beneath the false bottom of the trunk sat his collected research: the Gaunt family records, stolen birth certificates, and maps of Little Hangleton.
The day is coming.
My birthright awaits.
But for once, his thoughts were... divided.
His hands paused over a silver-threaded scarf-- not because it was important, but because she had worn something of a similar hue the night of her party.
Layla.
Brilliant, ambitious, unpredictable Layla Grindelwald.
He had known for years that she was dangerous-- not because she threatened him, but because she might match him. She wielded charm like a weapon, wielded others like a queen. Her bloodline was impeccable. Her cunning, natural. And her pride... potent.
Exactly the kind of person he would usually destroy, or dominate.
But Layla was something else.
A partner. Or a rival. The line blurred.
Letting her into the circle last night had been no accident. She had been circling it for over a year, dancing in the shadows of Avery and Lestrange, always pretending to be above it all while sniffing around its edges.
She needed to see inside-- to understand what they were becoming.
What he was becoming.
That was why he had told them-- all of them-- the truth.
About his father.
It had shocked them, in the best way. Lestrange was gleeful. Avery was calculating. But it was Layla Tom had watched most carefully.
She hadn't recoiled.
She hadn't questioned the morality.
She had listened.
There had been something in her eyes when he'd said it-- not fear, not awe. Something worse. Recognition.
She understood.
And that was what he needed from her. Not obedience. Not worship.
Conviction.
The Knights of Walpurgis could not function on hollow posturing forever. If they were to be more than just boys playing at power, they needed a spark. They needed blood. And he... he would give it to them.
But Layla will be the one to spread the flame.
Not now. Not yet. She was still too proud, still too entangled in her relationships, her petty dramas and distractions. But she was close.
Close enough to taste the truth.
He folded the last of his clothes and closed the lid of the trunk with a soft click.
Soon, she would see what he saw-- that this world was not shaped by who deserved power, but who took it.
And when he returned to this castle after winter break, she would either be standing beside him...
...or beneath him.
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YOU ARE READING
My Dark Lord
FanfictionWhen Layla Grindelwald, daughter of the infamous dark wizard, arrives at Hogwarts, she intends to carve her name into history with ambition, power, and no apologies. But her plans are disrupted by the arrival of Tom Riddle-- an orphan with a danger...
