Numbness. That was all he felt as he gazed ahead onto nothing in particular, the drink in his hand swirling with the promise of relief it was never going to give him.
A few days ago, if someone had told him he'd be feeling like this... If someone had told him he would've had a drinking fit like a disgruntled spoiled little pureblood shit, he would've tortured the source and had it shipped off to Azkaban with a message.
He'd been at the entrance to what should've been the highlight of the recent couple of years for him. A meeting with several pureblood family heads that had been rather keen for an alliance to topple down the Blacks- Evidently, the promise of that had somehow grown more important than the so-called political atmosphere changing to favor mudbloods. He'd been on a power high, on the cusp of finally bringing his plan to it's starting stage. His previous actions in attacking the castle even seen in a good light to them, given it showcased his willingness to see things through.
Hell, the alliance had been suggested by the ring leader of the Black Family's current biggest rival in politics. Or rather, the biggest roadblock in truth.
The Lestranges.
A family that had recently swept the Malfoy's into their corner, further placing their... Worth up rather greatly in his eyes.
And yet, when he'd arrived, he'd been greeted by a house-elf that had informed him the promise of the alliance had quite swiftly died down faster than a bottle of fire whiskey.
He'd been quite simply put, vastly pissed off.
And it only got worse from there.
When he'd returned from said canceled meeting, he'd found his own base of operations abandoned. Every trace of magic, whether the wizards or witches that had been recruited earlier on or the magical creatures he'd cowed into submission had all disappeared. The only thing left in their wake? The emergency paper that had come out moments before he'd left for his canceled moment of triumph.
The news that had swept the country in a mad frenzy had been the cause of both.
The news that had revealed the very last thing he'd wanted known. A secret only he knew, having forcefully gleamed it from his own father moments before he'd killed him. A secret shared by him and his two dead parents.
A secret that Sirius Black had somehow found out.
His origins. The blight that had destroyed any hopes he might've had of succeeding.
The very name of the cause... Couldn't even get a rise out of him anymore in truth.
Whatever delusions he'd had of gaining power, of taking over the Ministry and then world... Whatever hopes he'd had of attaining the greatness he'd been promised so long ago... Was simply gone.
For the truths that had come after had painted a crystal clear image for him, one that had in essence finally woken him up to the truth of his situation.
To the truth of what it would take to win.
The truth of Sirius Black himself.
A child, backed by the most powerful family in the country. A child with the kind of talent that borderlined insanity. A child that could see the future as clear as water. That could read the present like it was an open book. That could see through the past as if he had lived through it himself.
The truth had cowed the Black family's enemies with more fear than even he could've set. For what was the point in backstabbing someone that could see you do it long before you entertained the thought?
The truth that had finally shown a light on how and why Orion Black had become so suddenly successful in the recent years.
A child that even Albus Dumbledore himself found himself outwitted against at every turn. Something that would've brought him immense joy once- to see the headmaster so out of his depth as he dealt with Pure-and-half-blood families that decried him for favoritism, for trying to hold the knowledge promised by the young little shit to himself and peers he chose- Knowledge that the most respected researchers would walk through Fiendfyre itself to get a glimpse of.
For trying to stifle knowledge that the young Black was absolutely willing to share with any who listened.
A 'crime' that had almost bordered his own 'terrorist' attack, for while he'd threatened the present, the old man had supposedly threatened the future.
For all that Albus Dumbledore avoided the pitfalls of politics... He'd blundered into the biggest one since Gellert Grindelwald made his own play. According to the Prophet.
Purebloods. Half Bloods. Mudbloods.
In a single moment, Sirius Black had gained the allegiance of all three.
The Purebloods were ecstatic for the simple fact he represented everything they'd been steadfastly proclaiming for the past century.
The Halfbloods idolised him for the sheer opportunities he'd set his own father on providing them- Orion Black proclaiming it himself following the enormous accusations laid out by the man's son.
The mudbloods loved him for being the first Ancient Family heir to openly give them the chance they craved- For what else could one call not only going against his entire family's wishes but actively making a statement by publicly allowing his cousin's marriage to one of them to go through? Not only that, it was proclaimed after he'd publicly canceled his other cousin's marriage to a Malfoy.
What should've been an enormouspolitical blunder had been grasped as theGolden Snitch of the decade.
In one fell swoop the child had managed to slip the entire country into the palm of his hand, with his smug shit-eating grin conveying the simple fact that he knew it.
For all the anger he felt... For all the disapoinemnt... For the sheer darkness that had swept around him-
All he was left with was numbness as he stared at the child that had practically been born with a crown in his hand.
It was as if Magic itself had decided to go against his dreams directly.
Every gap he'd seen when he was younger... All the avenues he'd thought once gave him the opportunity to slip through... They had all disappeared.
There was only one way for him to have a glimpse of a chance at what would most likely be pyrrhic victory... And that was to kill Sirius Black himself.
And for all that he would've worked towards it... For all that he should've...
For all his power and knowledge...
The boy hadn't even tried and the only base of support that could've made a difference had disappeared from his grasp.
The boy that had laughed at him as he faced the might of six dragons and triumphed- Even waiting for his arrival beforehand.
The boy that had almost destroyed Albus Dumbledore's credibility with the current crop of magical families.
Every plan, every route, every path he'd considered taking... Had all but disappeared, his sense of survival taking hold. His sense of urgency taking root.
Every idea disappeared until only one remained. Until only one fact made itself expressitly clear to him.
Magical Britain was lost to him, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Time was all that could undo it.
Whether it took decades or centuries, it would be time he still had... Even then the thought that he might win in the end, if he simply waited the blasted brat out, tasted like ash in his mouth.
He idly stood up, his muscles creaking at the action as he stared ahead, his mind ignoring the interview blaring to life in the fireplace behind him. The words echoing through ignored, the laughter and smiles not registering even as the foolish interviewer took Bellatrix Black's confident claim of her little cousin's inevitable take over of the world in stride.
And with a final, oddly relieving, sigh... Volde-
No.
Tom Riddle.
For the name he'd once chosen with glee, had found its true meaning come to life, and he found himself hating the feeling it left behind.
He had no true destination in mind... His only intent was to get away from the ignorant country happily dancing into the palms of a monster.
And so, he simply apparated away, his hopes of conquering Magical Britain dying down as naught but the proud laughter of Bellatrix Black echoed out in the background.
For even in his own exit of the country he'd been born in and once cherished... A laughing Black was all he heard.