Title: Showmen
Pairing: HP/TMR, HG/RW, DM/LL, BB/TMR
Disclaimer: I don't really own Harry Potter or the circus. I high-key love circuses despite the...many ethical issues surrounding them. Yup. Circuses are my problematic fave.
Showmen
Prologue
He stood in the center of a ring.
The silence was deafening. He couldn't hear the shifting of the wooden planks. He couldn't hear the creaking of metal above him. His chest was hollow. He dipped his head forward, reaching one hand up to draw his fingers across the brim of his top hat. He imagined that they were screaming. Screaming in anticipation. Screaming for his blood. He couldn't hear anything.
He couldn't even hear his own breath.
And then, he lifted his cane, yanking the top off. His yew wand shone like a beacon in the dim tent. He centered himself, crimson eyes gleaming. He held as still as possible, building anticipation.
Lights.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've been waiting for," he called softly. Never rising into a shout. He didn't need to. They felt the silence too, cutting through as sharp as a knife.
Red sparks shot out from the end of his wand, and the beams exploded into being, circling his ring. He took a deep breath and slowly lifted his head, crimson irises peering out at his audience. They stared back at him—wizarding and Muggle alike—entranced by him as he strutted forward, cutting through the air as if he were nothing but magic personified.
The back of his neck beaded with sweat. His bones ached as the wind picked up, whistling gently through his arena. The magic descended and he threw his arms open as if to embrace them into the fever dream of his making. His lips curled into a terrible smile—one of malicious charm, biting at them, eating at them. It was a smile that demanded surrender.
Magic.
He turned on his heel, strode up to the center and spun, a booted heel kicking up the sand, his wand pointed out.
Color exploded. The back doors swung open with a clang, revealing the shadowy group. A single rope descended from the sky, swinging down next to him. He grabbed it, looping it around his wrist, waiting for his act. His muse.
And the freaks appeared, slinking out from the shadows. He could hear them now, their hisses and their taunts, their lips curled into terrible smiles. He looked up and watched Ginerva walk along the tightrope, using her broom as a balancing pole, her bare toes curling around the wire like talons. She looked regal in her gold leotard.
Barty backed up, kicking up sand in a cloud. And then he catapulted through, flipping through the air as easily as a monkey might. He tumbled through the air, using his hands to propel his body one more time through the air. He landed easily on the back of a hippogriff, riding it around the ring with a feral grin on his face. He passed by Ronald who towered over everyone easily, his gaunt six foot seven form striding forward, Hermione perched on his shoulder, balanced on her forearms, her legs writhing through the air. She slunk down his body, curling and contorting her body until she landed on all fours. Bending backward, shoving her face out between her legs, she grinned, her wild curls surrounded her head like a lion's mane.
Speaking of...he grinned as a roar ripped through the circus tent, and out leapt the chimera, Newt on her heels, skidding through the sand as he raised his wand, attempting to calm her. His striking blue cloak flapped around him and he shrugged it off, swinging it around in an attempt to grab the chimera's attention. The swooping evil burst from his shadow, spiraling through the air, circling Ginevra as Ginevra flipped over, straddling the wire and hung down, using her leg as a hook. Brown eyes met crimson and she smirked, saluting him and she turned to look at the diving board that extended out from the back of the tent. She lifted the broomstick out in front of her, perpendicular to her body and slowly let go, watching it float in the air under her command.
He was coming.
The ringmaster spun, bowing as Hagrid lumbered from the doorway, leading the paired graphorn and tiger forward. The twins ran out, fire exploding in their hands, breathing the flames between the pair of them. Their freckles stretched with the obscenity of the grins as they waved their wands, sending the fireworks high above them.
Yaxley grinned as he strode out, the color canvas inked across his chest telling the world his inspiration. He turned to the young woman that stood in the light and bowed. Luna Lovegood took his hand and strode forward, escorted as the finest lady would be. Draped in white—a white as white as her skin, as silvery as her hair—she gave a tranquil smile. Yaxley spun off his cloak twirling it over her and then pulled it away.
There were gasps as his great snake, Nagini, appeared, draped over her shoulders and curled around his waist at least three times. Luna walked forward, pushing up on her toes in her white satin pointe shoes, bourréing forward, her arms waving as though she waded through water. Nagini slowly unraveled herself as Luna landed next to him.
"My sweet," he hissed.
Nagini lifted her head, her yellow eyes boring into his. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the air.
"Master," she hissed back in greeting.
Luna giggled and she bowed to him and then pirouetted away, pointing up at the roof of the tent. The performers all froze, redirecting their gazes to the diving board.
He looked up. His muse. Leaping, running, sharp green eyes crucifying the crowd. He nearly couldn't tear his eyes away.
Nearly.
Nearly, because he heard them.
The silence peeled away and he heard the screams of adoration.
It was everything he'd ever wanted. It was everything that he'd ever needed. And here it was, all in front of him.
Tom Riddle was once a nobody. A monster.
A freak.
He looked around at his kingdom, grinning madly. The Muggles and the wizarding alike were under his spell, enchanted and bewildered by his spectacle.
No one had known Tom's name before.
They would know. They all would know, and they would remember.
The King of Nobodies. The King of Monsters. The King of Freaks.
He would claim that title. Better to reign in hell than to serve in Heaven.
Everything he'd ever wanted. Everything he'd ever needed...
Green eyes flashed as the Phoenix took flight, and the circus exploded.
:::
A/N: I literally can't not write fanfiction. Here's ANOTHER unfinished one. This will REALLY take a backseat to both Fairest and Diagnosis. I think. I love all of them pretty equally, but I feel I should finish Fairest at least. Anyway, here's a prologue. I love circuses despite their problems. I acknowledge my fave is problematic, but it's so indicative of my childhood. So, here it is. The opening is heavily inspired by "The Greatest Showman". Sorry, not sorry. Don't be a dick in the comments. THANKS FOR READING!