As soon as I entered the carriage, I was struck by its opulence. The interior was lavishly decorated with deep crimson velvet drapes and gold embroidery, the seats upholstered in rich, dark leather. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, inviting glow over the polished mahogany woodwork. Intricate patterns adorned the carpet, and the air was filled with the faint scent of expensive cigars and aged whiskey.
Inside, I saw around thirty to forty people, all dressed in their finest attire, ready to party. The men sported tailored suits, some with waistcoats and cravats, while the women wore elegant evening gowns adorned with glittering jewels. Their clothes, a mix of deep blues, rich purples, and striking blacks, shimmered under the chandeliers' light.
All of them looked my way with a gaze that could only be described as having insane expectations.
We had this day meticulously planned out, but not the way Malfoy wanted it, nor how MoldyHead would love it to unfold.
This Day is truly going to go down in history as a BlackDay, and I will make sure of it.
Another tidbit of interesting information is how we managed to sway around forty Pure-blood families to my cause.
See, these people are simpletons, no offense. Well, maybe a little offense is well-deserved because it's simply the truth.
This group of spineless ass lickers does not want to join Moldy, the wannabe dark lord of our time, the man who thinks legalizing incest is a great idea, the man who wants to kill 99.9% of our people simply because they smell bad, or look ugly, or have two sets of rib cages instead of just one pair like any normal being.
In case you do not know what I am speaking of, I mean centaurs! The half human half horse abominations have two sets of ribcages. When I first read that shit, I couldn't come to terms with it, and now you'll have to bear that burden too just as I do. Knowledge is eternal pain.
Anyway, Moldy promised to come after these idiots too if they didn't bend the knee. I offered them an alternative—a much better one than what Gaydore proposed.
Gaydore's offer was simple: pull your trousers down and let me to dry fuck your arse till you bleed and die from an infection. He didn't say it that way, but that's pretty much what he meant!
The irony of the situation is that Moldy sells his faction as conservative while progressives refer to it as dark. However, all of his ideas are quite progressive, and he is approximately 4-6 decades ahead of our time.
In six decades, people want to dress up as dogs and go out and assault minors or even their own children. Minor-loving people will replace pedophiles, and such liberal nonsense is going to go viral, and Moldy only wants that for his buddies. Now instead of 40 to 60 years later, he's simply a man ahead of his time.
Now, the true liberal and "progressive" faction—dubbed the "light faction" by their opponents—wants to return humanity to what amounts to the Stone Ages. How and why, one might wonder.
Well asked, you my friend, are a reasonable person! They want to outlaw most of the things that set us apart from muggles, and Muggleborns, and put us all on an equal footing with those who are just beginning their magical adventure. To top it all off, they want to regulate the shit out of us, and control every aspect of our lives, including what and how we are allowed to research.
—So you can see the issue here if your brain is functioning properly, and is not rotten! In the event that research becomes centralized, those in power will always be in power, and everyone else will just become the working class, existing only in the delusion of equality and freedom.
Nevertheless, what good is it for me to be on par with another slave? Nah, fuck that! Magic is supposed to be the epitome of freedom, and I won't be another slave even though I have access to magic!
Now this is the problem I had to tackle head-on, and guess what? I offered them the ultimate solution to every fucking problem out there!
Yep, you guessed it right! Violence!
I'm planning to go full berserk on the Dark Lord's minions. All these folks have to do is swear their undying loyalty to little ol' me.
Whether I manage to take down the Dark Lord or not, it's a win-win situation!
All they really want is an alternative to that power-hungry archmage they call Gaydore! And to the dude who would have them live in a reality where any Pure blood Lord can simply come into your home fuck your family, and leave without any kind of repercussion.
Reality is a mess, and if you are clear enough to see it for what it is, you realise it is fugly and not even getting drunk on it can help you making it bearable. Reality is like a butterface when she turns around, reality is like post nut clarity, realit is like that hot bitch that gives you hell, you can hate it all you want, but we all know you will still hate fuck her anyway.
This is the truth! This is the gospel! This is reality!
As we finally rolled up to Black Manor, I couldn't help but smirk, feeling my heart beating as I heard the blood pumping through my veins.
*Crunch*
Stepping out onto the ground, I heard the snow beneath my feet crunching. We all walked towards the entrance, and the gates opened without us needing to do anything. Man, I love magic. Around thirty to forty individuals followed me as I entered, with Gramps close behind.
"Oh, the Prince's have finally arrived?!"
"I feel tonight is going to be eventful!"
"Stuck-up bastards!"
"Why are so many following them?"
"Seems like tonight is going to be very entertaining."
I heard everything these pussies were saying, thinking themselves sneaky by whispering, but they were in the presence of a predator. Tonight, I would show them whom to fear and bow to.
"Lord Prince and Heir, welcome to the party," that bastard Orion who kicked me out into the rain at the last party spoke up.
"Where's Lord Black? Why are we being received by the likes of you?" I questioned him without politeness, seeing his face scrunch up in disgust, though he curbed his displeasure.
"Lord Black is occupied, young man. You need to work on your manners. Others might think your lackluster blood shows itself if you cannot address a proper pureblood with the respect worthy of his standing," his annoying wife injected venomously.
I looked her up and down with pure disgust in my eyes and retorted, "His standing? As far as I know, he is neither heir nor lord! So, enlighten me. What is your husband's standing?" I said, watching her face redden.
*Silence*
"Thought so!" I said with undisguised glee, before moving on and declaring loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Now, where's the guest of honor?! I've heard your Dark Lord will grace us with his presence!"
"Our Lord is discussing matters with Lord Black, Snape!" Lucius's voice cut through the crowd, and as if in a well-choreographed show, the people made way for him and his father.
"Oh, Lucius Lucius! I didn't think I'd see you here! And it is Heir Prince to you! Please, don't be a Moron." I remarked in an amused tone.
"And why would that be, Snape?" he spat out not changing his way of adressing me, proving he is a moron.
"Haha, thought your Lord would have screwed you over after my interview, for talking about him behind his back!" I said, fully aware he'd been punished for that even though he hadn't said a word about Moldy.
*Teeth Grinding*
"As cross as ever. What else can one expect from a dirty half-blood?" Malfoy Senior sneered with his nose in the air.
"Hoho, Abraxas, as always you are a lovely little cunt!" Gramps said, amused.
"Prince, I think I'll enjoy remembering today for a long time, and we will see who's a cunt before the night ends." Abraxas said, dripping with schadenfreude.
"Oh, is that so?" I queried.
"It is so, boy!" he affirmed.
Gramp's merely chuckled not bothered at all, he went off to get himself a drink, and chat up some people who actually have working brain cells.
"Well, whatever. I hope at least this Dark Lord isn't an idiot! I recently encountered some Dark Lord who was next-level stupid!" I remarked to Abraxas.
"Our Lord is a man of great genius, power, and heritage," Lucius said, clearly offended.
At that moment, I noticed a man with brown hair entering the hall alongside the elderly man I knew from the Great Hall encounter with Gaydore.
"Haha, I truly hope so! The cunt Lord I came in contact with called himself VomitRoll, or Voldemerde, or something stupid like that, and the idiot was dumb enough to rip his soul into pieces!" I said extremely loudly, fully aware the man would hear me, and as expected, I saw his face lose some color at the notion of his greatest secret being revealed.
"What?!" shocked voices rose from the crowd, unable to process the idea of the soul being a thing.
For all that it was worth, too many wizards and witches do not delve into magic as far as they should, and only a handful ever delve into the true nature of magic that is as much beautiful as it is horrifyingly ugly. But those who did were always, and will always be a force to be reckoned with and should not be provoked willy-nilly under any fucking circumstances — well, unless you are me or you wish to enact a bloodbath.
"Haha, yeah, pretty dumb! Most people don't know it, but centuries ago, some idiot named Herpo the Foul invented the means to tether one's soul to the mortal realm as a means to escape or evade permanent death!" I said to the now-intently listening audience. I was here to put on a show, and it would be a big one.
"And what exactly is the reason for you calling the man who basically invented magical immortality 'dumb'?" the brown-haired man asked me, changing the topic not allwong me to explain the true nature of an Horcrux.
'Pretty smart way to change the topic, bitch.' I think amused, but jump into it anyway.
'Also, I didn't feel him closing in on me.' I thought, a little annoyed. Seems like the little bastard had developed some serious skills after all.
"Well, Mister, I didn't get your name," I said, waiting for him to introduce himself. Because I had called Voldemort an Voldemerde, and VomitRoll, he couldn't go on to declare himself as Voldemort, that one would be adead giveaway that I have met his soul piece, and so as expected, he introduced himself under an alias. " You can call me Slytherin. I am Thomas M. Slytherin," he said, flaring his ridiculous amount of magic at me.
"Well, how peculiar. I didn't know the founder's line was still ongoing, but who am I to judge a man by his name? No matter how ludicrous it may sound. Anyway, for those uneducated fools and Mudbloods, this idea of immortality might be great, and they'd jump at it like a starved dog at a bone. But for a proper pureblood, it will never be an option," I said, smirking as I took a drink from one of the passing flying plates.
I could feel Riddle growing angrier by the second because I was dodging his question, and passively insulting him.
"Why is that?" he asked through gritted teeth, still managing a deceptive polite smile.
"Well, because you lose a part of yourself with each use, or rather with each piece you rip out of your soul!" I said, noticing he didn't get it.
"Humility, Kindness, Patience, Diligence, Charity, Temperance, and Chastity! Tell me, Mister Slytherin, what remains of a man or woman who has none of these values to counterbalance their very human nature?" I asked, seeing him contemplate but not knowing the answer.
Rarely did people contemplate what they were giving up while indulging in sin. Rarely did they get the enlightenment that perhaps it just wasn't worth it. But this was the very trap a human was destined always to fall into.
"No worries, Mister. You not knowing the answer isn't an issue. In fact, I'd bet taht most people do not know the answer. What remains if you take all these out of a man is an empty husk. After the first piece is gone, what remains is a prideful man unable to see what he has lost, and what he is becoming, destined to fall deeper into the quagmire. After the second piece, what remains is an envious man, hating everyone for what he himself doesn't have. After the third piece, he will turn into a wrathful man, angry at everyone and everything, unable to quench his never-ending rage, flying off the handle at the smallest things. From here on, it becomes theoretical, as only a talented lunatic would go past this step, but surely some idiot will go on and try it because he is pissing himself out of fear of death." I say with as much glee as possible in my voice.
"Do go on, and stop wasting our time!" Orion commanded me, but I looked at him without amusement.
"Yeah, suddenly I don't feel like talking anymore!" I replied, seeing him get triggered.
"Please, Heir Prince, this topic is so refreshing you couldn't possibly be petty enough to stop your narration just because you want to annoy a single person," Mister Slytherin said, using his Legilimency on me to prompt me to talk more.
"Haha, seems like you have the wrong image of my personality, Mister!" I said, amused, chuckling. Suddenly, my eyes sharpened, and I looked him dead in the eyes. "I am petty as fuck!"
*Pin-drop silence*
I knew Moldy wanted to know what he had gotten himself into, but I wasn't obliged to help him or solve his mess.
"Oh, okay then. But how did this whole conversation come about anyway? I only got half of it." he asked when he saw I didn't want to continue.
"I found an item that was used as one such tether in Hogwarts, and the little piece of the idiot's soul within declared himself a Dark Lord. So, I told lil' Luscious Lucius here that I hope his Lord isn't a moron of the same magnitude as the idiot who created a Soul Anchor," I told Mister Slytherin with much glee.
"Can you perhaps showcase this soul piece to us?" Mister Slytherin asked after a moment of silence.
"Haha, no, sadly I cannot! The little shithead annoyed me so much I decided to get rid of it. But the only two methods I found are either Fiendfyre or some poison from an extinct animal," I told him.
"So, did you use Fiendfyre?! That's a pretty dark piece of magic! I didn't think the Prince Family would be delving so deeply into dark magic?" he said, shocked.
"Oh, no, no, no. I didn't use that! That would be an utter waste of a good piece of soul!" I replied, watching him release a held breath. But before he could speak, I added, "I sold that little piece of shit's soul to a demon!"
I saw the whole hall fall silent. If Fiendfyre was dark, any transaction was outright black!
Mister Slytherin's face twisted into one of fury, and I expected him to blow up and attack me. Instead, he simply replied, "Oh, did you now?" and turned to Orion.
"Weren't we planning an honor duel for this evening?" he asked curiously, but it was more like a command at this point.
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I just published Chapter 59 on my Pa***n, and if you want to read ahead go there and read it, but you do not have to. I will be posting irregularly anyway, and it is only for people who can afford it and do not have high expectations.