Marked • Tom Riddle

His Death Eater

   When I woke up, I was immediately filled with dread. It was my 18th birthday, and soon to be one of the scariest days of my life. Today was the day I became a Death Eater. My parents, the Rosiers, were more than overjoyed, but I was trembling. Although it wasn't as nearly as risky as it used to be, as becoming a Death Eater was no longer a taboo. Not since Grindelwald and Lord Voldemort joined forces and defeated the muggle race. Now becoming a Death Eater was a privilege, one of the highest honors wizards could be bestowed with, or in my case a birthright.

   I tried to fall back asleep in hopes of escaping the reality of my life for a moment longer, but my attempts were useless so I gave up. I trudged out of bed and into my bathroom to dress and ready myself for the eventful day.

   After making myself appear presentable, I returned to my bedroom and frowned at the sight of the object on my bed. My mother had gone through the trouble of picking out my birthday and ceremony dress; a knee-length, black dress that was very obviously tight at the waistline. She'd always loved the shape of my body and always wanted me to accentuate my figure, which made me uncomfortable, as when I did the men stared, and not very subtlety either.

   Nevertheless, I forced myself into the dress and admired my mother's choice. It didn't look half bad, it looked rather beautiful with its lace detailing. I paired my dress with a pair of classic Mary Janes and my emerald pendant, a Rosier family heirloom.

   "Are you ready, Miss?" Betsy, my maid and probably one of my closest allies, knocked on my door.

   "Be down in a moment," I replied. I spritzed myself with some lavender perfume and headed downstairs. I didn't bother with my hair, it was always perfect, a gift that all the Rosier women were blessed with, perfect, long, raven hair.

   "Happy birthday, darling," Mother smiled through her signature red lipstick as she poured my father another cup of coffee, my father drank a lot of coffee. "You look beautiful. I just knew that dress would suit you." My father looked up from his paperwork and waved me over with a slight smile.

   "How's my birthday girl?" He said, sensing my nervousness. I was daddy's little girl, what could I say.

   I frowned and walked further into his office. His office was strangely one of the most comforting places in the world. Although it did not seem like it, with its wooden flooring and tough, dark furniture; I had grown accustomed to it and eventually in love with it. I loved everything from its consistent smell of coffee, to its dusty and large bookshelves.

   "Eager for her present," I replied, in hopes of lightening the mood. My father smiled while sipping from his coffee and my mother just shook her head.

   "After the ceremony darling," Mother said, but my father caved in.

   "Give it to her, it'll calm her down," Father said, winking at me. "We don't want her fainting, now do we?"

   That convinced my mother. "Oh alright!" She opened one of my father's drawers and pulled out a beautifully wrapped, silver box. Father stood up and the two handed me the present.

   "Happy birthday, Karina," Father said. I carefully unwrapped the box, I wanted to rip into it, but Mother would not accept that kind of behavior. Inside was another box, but this one was wooden and red and carved with beautiful branch-like designs. I opened the box and peeked at what was inside. My jaw dropped.

   Potions.

   Inside, in tiny viles on blue satin, lay potions. But not just any kind of ordinary potions. These potions were rare and impossibly difficult to make, yet here they all were.