His wide brown coloured eyes looked fearful, his mouth slightly agape. A teenager, around the age of sixteen, looked in shock as he stood, face to face, with a devilish man, whom was tall and skeletally thin with a face whiter than a skull and livid scarlet eyes. Thunder boomed in the distance, creating a vast darkness and a sense of immense danger.
The boy's eyes turned slightly from the man in front of him. He glanced around the foyer of the handsome manor house. There were several dark figures gaping at him, silent as if waiting for something. And yet, the boy's gaze fell upon a spot just above the devilish man. Peering up at the stairs, he saw a blonde teenager his age, holding his wand shakily in his pale hands.
The face of Draco Malfoy was only just seen amongst the shadows when lightening lit the night sky through the windows, and rain poured down in torrents from the heavens.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The boy was pushed forward by the cruel man behind him, whom he was ashamed to call father. His golden brown eyes turned back to the devil, he tried to yell, but his father clapped a hand over his mouth. His dark, chestnut hair fell down, almost obscuring his limpid brown eyes from view. His gaunt, pale white skin was sickly in colour, making him look extremely ill.
"Be silent, boy," his father hushed in an angry whisper. "The adults are talking."
With a look of cruel satisfaction, the man with vivid scarlet eyes surveyed the boy. A lecherous grin stretched across his face. His evil smile and the dark twinkle in his eyes unnerved those closest to him. Despite his father's wishes, the boy struggled, twisting around he punched madly.
"Enough!" his father barked, gripping his son's wrists harsher, causing the boy to wince. "You're making a fool out of yourself in front of greatness." He met the devil's intruding red eyes, and bowed, "My Lord."
"Hawthorne," the boy heard the Dark Lord snarl with pure venom. "We've been expecting you."
"I'm here, my Lord," his father said shakily, although his grip on his son's wrists didn't loosen. "As you've requested... and I've brought the boy."
"I see," affirmed the cold, dark voice of the devilish man. The boy could almost feel his father flinch at the tone of the Lord's voice.
It was impossible to ignore the look that the boy was receiving from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as his crimson eyes bored into the side of his head in search of answers that he struggled to find.
"Charles, my boy," Voldemort whispered, his face contorting into a sinister smile. "It's so good to see you again. Thought twice about joining our ranks, have you?"
Charlie looked terrified, but stared at Voldemort, not moving back despite their close proximity. He had yet to say anything when the door of the manor opened, and the familiar scowling face of Professor Severus Snape appeared in the doorway. Billowing black robes made him seem even paler than usual as he walked in, but when he saw the imprisoned Hawthorne boy, he seemed to get even paler still. He took a step towards Charlie, but seemed to catch himself, and redirected his attention to the Dark Lord.
