Date: February 17, 1981
The snow had melted, giving way to waterlogged ground where twisted roots stretched like black fingers. The lake of Hogwarts reflected a steel sky, and a glacial bite still permeated the air. But in the depths of the castle, where torches exhaled a sickly yellow light, winter had never ceased to reign.
Marius walked through the deserted corridor leading to his sanctuary. His steps were measured, his hands clasped behind his back. Each of his movements exuded mastery. Yet beneath this calm facade, a tide rumbled. He had crossed a threshold in January: the corruption of the elf. The creature was not perfect, but it testified to the power still intact within him, even in this frail body.
Tonight, another step would be taken.
First Oath
In the room sealed by forbidden charms, the greenish flames came back to life upon his arrival. The metallic, acrid smell saturated the air. The steel fragment lay at the center, glowing faintly, imbued with the runes he had traced.
Two figures were already waiting: Cassian Mulciber and Selwyn Travers. Two young Slytherins, from families where the shadow of dark magic had stretched for generations. They had been chosen not for their courage, but for their ambition and thirst for power.
Marius stopped before them, his gaze burning with an intensity that made them lower theirs.
"Do you know why you are here?" he asked, his voice soft but sharp as the blade he was about to forge.
"To... to learn," Cassian murmured, his throat dry.
"To serve," added Travers, more boldly.
An imperceptible smile brushed Marius's lips. "Serve. Yes. But serve whom?"
A heavy silence fell, broken only by the crackling of the flames. Then Mulciber responded in an almost devout voice:
"You, Marius."
The answer drew a cold satisfaction from him. They know nothing of my true name... and that is better thus. For now.
"So swear an oath. Not to a simple boy... but to something greater than yourselves. To a cause that will transcend the centuries."
He traced in the air a glowing sign, a ring of fire that did not burn but seemed to draw in the light. The two students fell to their knees, fear and exaltation mingled.
The words of the oath resonated, ancient, torn from an age when the world trembled under a single name. And when the fire went out, two invisible marks bound their souls to his.
The Forge
When their oaths were sealed, Marius turned to the crucible. He plunged his hands into the greenish fire, insensitive to the illusory pain he projected to impress his new loyalists. Under his fingers, the metal vibrated, imbibed with his essence.
A dagger slowly emerged, slender, elegant, but imbued with a palpable darkness. It was not a mere object: it possessed an embryonic will, a hunger. It was not yet a Ring... but it was a first step.
He handed the blade to Cassian. "Carry it. And remember... it will remind you of me. Always."
Cassian took the dagger with a mix of fear and desire. His fingers whitened around the handle.
Travers, on the other hand, received a promise: "Your blade will come. But prove your worth to me."
Defense Class
The next day, the winter sun bathed the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom in cold light. Professor Merrythought announced the exercise: controlled duels.
James Potter, wand in hand, smiled with the confidence of those who had never known defeat. His eyes were already seeking Marius.
The duel was set: James against Marius.
The students gathered, eager for a spectacle.
"Ready?" James launched with a glint of challenge.
"Always," Marius replied, impassive.
The signal sounded. James attacked first, swift, precise. Disarming spells, blocking spells, whirling like blades. But Marius parried each strike with cold grace, his movements minimal, calculated.
Then he attacked in turn. A simple "Sectum" whispered, so soft it seemed a caress. James barely dodged, the sleeve of his robe tearing. An electric tension ran through the room.
"Enough!" ordered Merrythought, but their gazes remained locked, two wills clashing without a word.
Soon, thought Marius. You will learn what it means to defy a Lord.
Final Scene: The Beast
The following night, in the sanctuary, the corrupted elf crawled towards him. Its transformation had worsened: skin hung in tatters, eyes glowed with a sickly light. It was stronger, faster.
"Master... hunger..." it moaned in a guttural voice.
Marius smiled. "You will have food. And soon... you will not be alone."
His fingers brushed the dagger, now as black as night. An obsessive thought pulsed in his mind:
One to rule them all... but first, there must be blades, souls, armies.