February 18, 1981 – Hogwarts
The Winter of Silence
Cold had descended upon Hogwarts with a rigor that seemed borrowed from an older world. The surrounding hills were draped in snow, and the Forbidden Forest, frozen under ice, cast eerie shadows. In the Great Hall, flames danced in massive fireplaces, casting a golden light on tables laden with food. But this warmth failed to dispel the strange sensation that gripped Marius each day: that of a vulnerable world, malleable... ready to be shaped.
Seated at the Slytherin table, he observed silently. His eyes, a dark gray, seemed deeper than ever, like two wells reflecting a distant light. Before him, a cup of hot chocolate steamed, but he paid it no attention. His mind was elsewhere, traversing memories that belonged to no eleven-year-old child.
The Order was born from chaos. It will be reborn here, in flesh and fear.
He slightly raised his head. At the Gryffindor table, James Potter laughed heartily, his insufferable confidence flooding the room like harsh light. Beside him, Sirius Black wore his eternal mocking smile, while Remus Lupin, more discreet, seemed always to be analyzing. Peter Pettigrew, the faithful shadow, drank in every word with admiration. And Lily Evans... radiant, her red hair capturing the candlelight like flames, listened to James with a half-annoyed, half-amused expression.
She does not yet know that she will be his weak point, Marius thought coldly. And every being has a weak point.
Lessons and Contempt
In the morning, snow was still falling as they took their seats in Charms class. Professor Flitwick, tiny but energetic, twirled his wand with the enthusiasm of a conductor.
"Very well, young wizards! Today, we tackle advanced levitation spells! A crucial step before learning to manipulate animated objects."
The students took out their wands. Murmurs filled the room. James, already confident, joked with Sirius:
"Watch and learn, Black. I'll make this table fly better than anyone."
"Or blow up the ceiling," Sirius retorted with a wink.
Marius remained silent. His wand lay before him, but he felt no attachment to this fragile tool. He had forged weapons that could enslave nations, he had shaped the very essence of matter... and they expected him to make feathers float?
Miserable charade.
When Flitwick passed by him, he raised his hand, performed the required gesture, and murmured the formula with chilling naturalness:
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The feather rose at once, but instead of floating docilely, it coiled upon itself as if trying to escape, then froze ten centimeters from the ceiling. The aura it emitted made Flitwick shiver without knowing why.
"Very... impressive, Marius. But... a bit too intense. Remember: control is key!"
Marius lowered his eyes, hiding a cold smile. Control... They have no idea what that word means.
Rising Tensions
After class, in the corridor, James Potter waited for him, leaning against the wall.
"You, the little prodigy," he said with a sneering smile. "Impressive, really. You planning to make us believe you'd never waved a wand before Hogwarts?"
Marius stopped. His gaze, calm but sharp, met James's.
"Some don't need years to understand simple things."
Sirius burst out laughing behind James.
"Ouch, Potter. The Snake has fangs!"
James narrowed his eyes. Behind his bravado smile, a shadow of mistrust was born.
"Stay in your corner, Slytherin. And avoid playing the smartest."
Marius did not respond. He walked past him, his step gliding on the stone floor. But within him, a certainty crystallized: this boy would become an obstacle. And obstacles are destroyed or bent.
The Forgotten Room
That night, when the castle sank into silence, Marius left his dormitory. Drapped in a dark cloak, he moved like a shadow among shadows. The corridors stretched, deserted, punctuated by torches whose flames flickered.
He entered an abandoned room he had discovered weeks earlier. The walls were cracked, but the space exuded an ancient, almost sacred fragrance. On the floor, he had carved perfect circles, intertwined with runes traced by the tip of his will.
On a central slab lay a silver cup, filled with a blackish liquid that seemed to swallow the light. Beside it, a fragment of pure silver and dust of precious stones awaited.
He knelt. His fingers caressed the cup. Then he spoke. Not in the language of men, nor in that of wizards, but in the black tongue, matrix of all corruptions. The syllables rose, rough, sharp, like blades striking rock.
"Nai gurthûkûrz naltâ. Nai saurikûn ghâsh."
The room trembled. A livid flame burst from the liquid, cold, but devouring to the soul. The silver he plunged into it twisted like a living thing, screaming in unbearable silence.
This is not yet the Ring, he thought, but it is a beginning.
When he closed the box containing this now tainted fragment, he felt the shadow within him thicken. The magical world still did not know that its destiny had just shifted.
The First Servant
The next day, in the corridors, he crossed paths with a house-elf. Small, thin, carrying a cloth marked with the Slytherin crest. Its huge eyes betrayed absolute servility.
Marius crouched down.
"You serve the Slytherins, don't you?"
"Yes, master," the creature replied, trembling.
"Do you wish to serve even better? More freely... more strongly?"
The elf's ears quivered. An instinctive fear ran through it, but also a dark curiosity.
"Yes... if master wishes..."
Marius's smile was almost tender.
"Then swear an oath. Not to Hogwarts... to me alone."
The words flowed like sweet poison. And when the elf whispered its oath, the room seemed to darken. Its skin took on a gray hue, its eyes lit up with a sickly yellow glow, and its fingers, claw-like, brushed the stone as if to gnaw at it.
Here is the first Orc of this world, thought Sauron. And it will not be the last.
James's Suspicions
That evening, James Potter spoke to his friends in the Gryffindor common room.
"I'm telling you, there's something off about that guy."
"Potter," Sirius sighed, "you just can't stand that he's doing better than you in class."
"No. It's not that. Every time he enters a room, I feel like it gets colder. As if... as if the air belonged to him."
Remus looked up from his book.
"I've noticed it too. He's... different. And not just because he's brilliant."
James clenched his fists.
"I'll keep an eye on him. If he's planning something shady, I'll be there."
Sirius burst out laughing, but a glint of concern flashed in his eyes.
The Dawn of Shadows
That night, Marius stood at the window of the Slytherin dormitory. Outside, the snow reflected the lunar glow. He clutched in his hand the small box where the draft of his regained power lay dormant.
Everything begins with a whisper. Soon, this castle will be my first Mordor. And you, James Potter... you will learn what it means to defy the Lord of Shadows.
The wind howled against the windows as if to approve his silent oath.