Venenum

Oxyuranus.

Hello, guys!

-The story and characters of the "Harry Potter" saga belong to the writer JK Rowling

-All chapters have been or are being edited to improve readability. Although English is not my first language, Severian Matachin patiently and carefully edited the chapters, resulting in a beautifully edited work.
I am grateful for her efforts. I would appreciate any recognition you might give her.

Thank you, Severian Matachin, for your hard work.
Thank you so much for being my beta reader! Your dedication and hard work are truly appreciated. I also wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude for your friendship.

Prologue - Oxyuranus

Edited January 2024

The tension was palpable in the Room of Requirement. The students who will become the future Death Eaters looked at each other, sucking in their breath as they waited for their leader. There were accusatory glances, each searching for a possible culprit that would explain why they were all gathered, yet everyone within shared a common emotion: fear.

They could taste the fear on their tongues, they felt their heart hammering in their chest. Each beat aggravated their affliction. The silence was so vast that a pin could be heard if any fell on the floor.

How bad is it going to be? They wondered similarly. Mercy. Who would not want to receive mercy in this situation?

The door opened abruptly, announcing His infuriated arrival. Some of the future Death Eaters cringed, watching the door slowly close and with it the tension within the room growing as they witnessed their only means of escape disappear. In this conjured room there were no windows, no doors and their only way to escape had been vanished by Him. They were trapped. Trapped with imminent death, torture and sadism, all embodied within a young man whose contrasting physical appearance was deceivingly handsome, almost unearthly. A Fallen Angel.

Tom Riddle entered like a hurricane, rage flickering across his face. He walked with firm, quick steps, his teeth sawing in frustration. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbow, the Slytherin's tie hanging slightly loose, having forgone the rest of the official uniform attire.

The Knights of Walpurgis upon seeing their leader's wrath quickly moved away, trying to recede from Riddle's field of vision but nothing and no one could save Alphard Black.

"Riddle..." Alphard begins, but is abruptly stopped by Tom, who pulls him by the collar of his shirt, slamming Alphard's back against the wall, then punching the pit of his stomach.

Tom, in all his psychotic and princely aura, watched his servant slide down the wall, place his hand on his stomach to futilely appease his own pain and fall on his knees. Through the tousled hair obscuring his vision, Alphard glanced and raised his chin up defiantly, awakening Tom's berserk fury. Tom's hands trembled as he gripped them into tight fists, the strong, dark, vengeful magic revolved around him, red light crossing through his eyes. A bestial roar welled up in Tom's throat as he glanced at Alphard Black, any trace of coherence was lost and then he lunged at the boy. What came next was brutal.

Even Alphard - who had a brave, almost Gryffindor spirit - couldn't contain his screams. The sequence of punches on his face and kicks in the ribs dazed him and he was rendered unable to defend himself. Tom's angry magic permeated and smothered the room, and as if it were alive when Alphard tried to drag himself away, his magic intensified.

He will beg.

He will not run away.

Tom dragged Alphard back by his legs and then punched him again. He gritted his teeth and must have cast some spell unconsciously, as irregular cuts opened the skin on Alphard's face. Tom wished to undo Alphard's face, because the image of him smiling at her was still fresh in his mind, and all he wanted was to make it impossible for Alphard to smile ever again.

He would ingrain it in Alphard's mind that every time he tried to approach her, this would be the consequence of overstepping such boundaries. And punishments would get worse and worse and worse. And they would have more blood and more blood and more blood.

Tom felt a fury so blinding that when a crack was heard, he seemed to awaken from a trance. I broke something. What was it? The nose? No, no. I broke that when I hammered his face against the wall. Ah, the jawbone. You can't smile now, can you?

He stood up slowly. There was a splash of blood on his alabaster face, on his white shirt and on his long slim hands, his knuckles were sore and Alphard's face was unrecognizable, yet it was still not enough.

He looked at his servants, watching intently their horrified and fearful expressions. Tom laughed. He actually laughed out loud as if he was privy to a secret joke. An involuntary tear appeared at the corner of his right eye and he wiped it away before it was released, his hand staining his pale face with more blood and then he fixed his gaze on Alphard, who was sprawled on the ground, unmoving except with involuntary spasms and the occasional grunt of pain.

Isn't he a treacherous one? Trying to steal from me and right under my nose. How dare he try to take her away from me? Tom stopped and pondered. To kill or not to kill?

Tom's hand twitched. Oh, how he'd like to squeeze his throat and see his puny life slowly leave him, to watch his skin turn purple from breathlessness until nothing was left of him. It was tempting indeed but the Black family was one of the most important connections he could have in the Wizarding World and also, it would be bothersome to deal with another murder after what happened to Myrtle. This time there would be no Hagrid to blame, not that this was the problem, he could find another victim of his manipulations. The problem was all the work that would have to be done and well, he didn't have the patience for it. On a more important note, this was a Black. Investigations would certainly carry more weight simply because of the damn surname Alphard carried.

Tom placed his hands on his hips and stared at the ceiling of the Room of Requirement and took a deep breath. Fuck, I cannot kill him!

He couldn't kill him, but it wouldn't mean that he couldn't impart a remembrance, a reminder. Tom then stepped slowly and hard on the fingers of Alphard's hand. Alphard tried to make some sound, a cry of pain, but his broken jaw wouldn't let him even obtain this small relief and if he tried, the more pain he would feel.

Another 'crack' was heard throughout the room, and everyone knew that Alphard's fingers were broken. Nothing could be darker than the smile that Tom Riddle had on his face in that moment. After what seemed to be an eternity, Tom stops stepping on Alphard's fingers and gives a final kick to his stomach, indicating the end of the punishment.

It was certainly ironic that the Dark Lord, a powerful wizard with extraordinary dark magic, chose such muggle methods to deliver retribution on someone. Yet he wanted to feel the blood on his hands and to show that even without the use of his unparalleled magic, he was superior in every way. He drew back, his footsteps were the only noise in the Room of Requirement, his servants stood frozen, staring at the floor as if it was the most interesting thing they had ever seen, just to avoid his gaze. Tom stored his wand in his pocket and with a graceful hand movement, the blood stains on his clothes, hands and face disappeared. He could not wander the halls of Hogwarts with anything less than an impeccable appearance.

He glanced over his shoulder, "Clean this mess." It was an order, his voice cold enough to make his servants shudder. "I hope you have understood what happens when you practice Quidditch. Someone always falls off the broom."

There it was, the lie everyone would tell. Tom left the details for them to handle. Without further ado, the door of the Room of Requirement appeared, and Tom Riddle left.

When that door disappeared again, they all descended into hysteria.