A Story of a Short Ending | T.R

Chapter 52 - The Judge, the Jury and the Executioner

Concerto Grosso for Strings "Palladio": I. Allegretto

They were actually going to do it. They were going to kill Dumbledore.

The thought was so insane that most of them still couldn't come to terms with it even hours after Riddle called them all together and announced their next mission. They sat dumbfounded in the dining room, as Riddle spoke with such passion and emotion that their first thoughts were to check if that was actually Riddle or did Lestrange had somehow transformed himself into him for jokes. But even Lestrange didn't have so much cruelty in him as did Riddle while talking about this.

He was going to kill Dumbledore and make sure his army was broken into pieces, as he gave them a clear instruction. They kill everyone in that house, not bothering with the details or reasons for them being there. If a mailman came in for a glass of water, he was not going to come back out.

His words stunned them for a good, long moment while they listened and wondered if Riddle was in a daze and didn't know what he was saying. Getting rid of a figure that was threatening everything Riddle worked for and attempting to get rid of the Death Eaters present in the room was one thing, but killing people whose only sin was believing what Dumbledore told them was out of the ordinary even for Riddle.

Riddle spoke, his eyes sparkling in the dim room, as the passion rolled off of him in waves. He was never so enthusiastic; he had never spoken with such emotion. He was a version of himself that pushed the mask away and was now ever so close to showing off his real colours. Perhaps he himself didn't realise, and even the confused looks of his followers didn't stop him, didn't make him pause and for a minute think why are they suddenly off.

He was getting ever so close to the first big step of his life's work. Not the one he fed everyone around him to keep them close and by his side, no, it was the true reason he always scribbled somewhere in his diaries, no one could know but him. Now, he knew they were too deep to step back and choose something else; they've tortured for him, killed for him, they've done too much to simply back out. Even if he wasn't yet ready to tell them the truth, he knew that once they found out, they would stay.

The preparations were a blur; the plan that came together in his mind appeared in a blur. Everything was a blur; he was a mess, and even his vision was blurry, but not on the day that mattered. The day he looked forward to, the day he was going to put himself in consideration, the day when he was going to prove that he is worthy, when the world would face him and his wrath, and it was going to start with Dumbledore.

At this point, he knew the old man's routine; he knew how he operated and what he valued. He knew they didn't have much time and that the reveal of the headquarters was like a wake-up call, a warning and a challenge. A challenge to see if they were stupid enough to stay and face their fate or run, run far away from the man who ruled that townhouse and everyone in it.

Dumbledore had similar thoughts. Was he a fool for staying and keeping his people there? What was the right course of action? When he encountered the challenges that were too hard for him, he always had his mentors to look up to, to ask for guidance from. Now, he was the mentor, and he had to get himself out of his biggest challenge yet. What started with an innocent-looking boy, all alone in an orphanage, has now turned into a threat to the entire world and he was partially responsible for everything that was going on. If more people died, it was on him; if the world collapsed because he overlooked the danger sitting right under his nose, it was on him. He didn't enable him, no, but he didn't do everything he could to stop him. He believed in second chances and possibly even third and fourth if one proved to be willing to change. That was not Riddle, and yet, he was too lenient with the boy, who was now hunting him every minute spent awake and even asleep. How many times has Dumbledore dreamt of being murdered, how many times has he awoken in cold sweat and with a rasp in his throat from feeling his own life leave him?