WARNINGS:
Homosexual (Explicit) relationships, Heterosexual (Mentioned) relationships, Somnophilia, Pedophilia, sexual intercourse, masturbation, Voyeurism, Aromantic (lack of romantic attraction), Troilism (watching partner have sex), arranged marriages, extreme but unnoticed age gap, Somnophilia, Non-consensual, slightest of mention of: Anthropophagolgnia and Erotophonophilia, explicit homosexual relationships, Anthropophagolgnia, Dacryphilia, Torture, smoking, Dacryphilia, Chronophilia, Pedophilic intercourse, Biastrophilia, death, suicide, self-mutilation, mass character death, major time jump, slight abuse, snapshot story, attempted murder, thoughts of suicide(sort of), amnesia, infidelity, language, mentions of Pedophilia
Prologue
Chapter Warning: Too many children? Major time jump? Because DAMN son…
Voldemort stared down at the broken form of his teenage enemy.
All around him were the mutilated and blooded bodies of both ally and foe, but Voldemort could not find a shred of remorse in himself for his loyal followers, the blind sheep that they were. They were useless, extendable. They held no purpose to him other than to help further his own goals.
But not him.
Harry Potter.
Even now, with everyone he cared about, everyone he loved, dead, and he, himself, struggling to hold on to consciousness, he still refused to give up. To give in to him.
How disgusting.
"When are you going to quit? What's the point in continuing on?"Voldemort questioned curiously. "There is nothing to fight for anymore. I've destroyed everything you've stood for."
There was no way that the light could win now. They had already lost, they were already gone; Harry was now just a final loose end. Once he was gone, the light side would be a long forgotten memory of a group of fools who thought that they could oppose him and ended up being obliterated.
"Don't you know when you've been beaten Harry?"
Voldemort moved closer, bending down slightly to see his opponent's battered face. Harry's lip was split in at least three places, his left eye, black, with a deep laceration under the lower lid. Voldemort could barely see the boy's pale skin beneath the dirt and blood of the fallen victims that lay around him.
"Why don't you just die already?"
Harry's head turned to the side, away from Voldemort's curious gaze, so that he stared at the Dark Lord's robed legs, before his eyes traveled back up to meet Voldemort's.
"Why don't you just kill me, Tom?"
-562 years later-
Armand Crabbe hated the hand he was dealt in life. Yes it was a relatively fair hand compared to some others, but he still highly disliked it.
You see, Armand was a high three-quarter blood. A wizard specifically breed for a specific reason.
His mother, Amelia Kardney, was a half-blood; born between a powerful mud-blood and a moderate pure-blood. His father, Ranneth Standlin, was a low born pureblood. Both had done something in their miserable lives to be punished and lowered to nothing more than genetic breeding ground.
Armand, and others like him, were born solely to marry a pureblood and invite genetic diversity into the gene pool without dirtying the wizarding blood too much.
As you can very well guess, Armand did not take kindly to being a breeding mule. Perhaps he felt this way because he was raised as a pure-blood, and did not feel that one of his station should have to be something so barbarian. But, Armand wasn't a pure-blood. He was a product of selective breeding.
He had never actually met his parents. He wasn't entirely sure if they were actually married or if they were repeatedly paired off with random others to create more three-quarter-bloods (as that was their only apparent purpose now) until they could no longer have children and began working as slaves or servants.
He didn't much care to be honest.
The only families Armand knew were the LeStrange Family, his adoptive family, and the Crabbe Family, his wife's family.
Which brought Armand back to his current dislike for his fortune.
Armand was waiting impatiently for his wife to give birth. Abelina Crabbe was a very beautiful woman. Make no mistake, Armand did not love her, and she did not love him. But he did not regret having her chosen as his wife. Or perhaps it was it more accurate to say that he did not regret being chosen as her husband. No matter what their feelings were for the other, they still had a duty to each other.
As per the agreement of their marriage, Armand and Abelina had had three pureblood children. The only problem was that each of the children were girls. Well, that wasn't necessarily a problem, per say. Hania, Kryspina, and Tacita were all beautiful, bright, and all around excellent heirs to the Crabbe Family.
But Armand and Abelina's marriage agreement stated that of the three children, there had to be at least one girl and one boy.
So Armand and Abelina had had another child. And another. And another. At the present, Armand had a total of twelve daughters: Hania(16), Kryspina(15), Tacita(13), Belva(10), Quin(9), Prima(8), Primrose(8), Maia(7), Candida(5), Rubi(3), Rosemary(3), and Rosalba(3).
Armand did love all of his daughters, but he was at his wits end. He prayed to the Emperor that number thirteen was a boy.