Baby Harry was taking determined, tottering steps in the living room. Giggling happily, he reached his arms out for a laughing James, who was kneeling a few feet away from Harry. Lily laughed and took a photo of the two, the flash of the camera startling Harry and causing him to land on the ground with a soft thump. Surprised and irritated with his inability to walk as fast as he wanted, Harry pouted.
"It's all right, Prongslet. At least you're amazing with your toy broom; if you don't like walking, you can always fly everywhere." James said cheerfully, picking Harry up.
"James, don't give him any ideas." Lily scolded.
"He's a mini Marauder, Lils. He'll be wreaking havoc when he's older, with or without my help." James grinned, poking Harry's chubby cheeks. "Besides, it's not as though he'll understand or remember this later. He's only one year old."
Lily frowned admonishingly. "You're going to be such a bad influence on him. And I wouldn't be so sure that Harry's as uncomprehending as you think. Sometimes, I get the feeling that he's completely capable of understanding us." She said thoughtfully.
Harry watched this exchange with a smile. James and Lily were an adorable, loving couple and he felt a twinge of sadness knowing that they'd die soon. He didn't know how soon, since the calendar was kept in James's off-limits study room, but it couldn't be in too long. It was the fall of his first birthday already. To distract himself from this thought, he replayed the conversation he'd just heard. Really, Lily was quite observant because so far in all of Harry's lives, few of his parents had suspected that he was not your normal toddler. Of course, when he started talking and they heard his fluent English, it was a different matter and they quickly discovered that he was more than he seemed to be. He would have continued reminiscing for some while, but he heard James suddenly mention Voldemort. Snapping out of his thoughts, he returned his attention to his parents.
"-and I was speaking to Frank and Alice the other day, and he said they've heard the Death Eaters becoming more active too."
"James, what are we going to do? Hopefully they won't attack Sirius, thinking he's the Secret-Keeper, and I hope that Peter can remain hidden too. I don't even know why Peter agreed to it; he's never struck me as the type to risk his life, not that he's a bad person of course." She added hastily.
"No, you're right. I was also surprised when he said he would be the Secret-Keeper, but maybe the war brought out the best in him." James shrugged.
Harry started fussing, uncomfortable with talk of the soon-to-be betrayal. Whimpering a little, he tugged at James's hair.
"There, there." James soothed Harry, bouncing him up and down. "Things will be all right, my Prongslet, I promise."
When Harry continued to look unhappy, Lily left the room to find Harry's blanket and James set him down on the sofa and pulled out his wand. James started making puffs of colored smoke erupt from his wand, and Harry started laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in his small fist. Lily re-entered with Harry's blanket, leaning down to give James a quick kiss on his cheek and murmuring that she'd take Harry to his nursery now. James handed Harry over to her and gave her a peck on the lips before throwing his wand down on the sofa and stretched, yawning.
Harry suddenly realized with horror that he was seeing the same scene that he did in his nightmares seventh year after his trip to Godric's Hollow. He'd lost track of time, and Voldemort was coming to kill his parents tonight. His parents were going to die- but no, he was also going to see Tom again.
Torn, Harry considered revealing himself to his parents so that they could at least die knowing who Harry was. But no, it would take too long to explain and he didn't want to burden them like that. Instead, he settled for worming out of Lily's hands and grabbing Lily and James's arm.
"I wuv you, mumma and dadda." Harry lisped, speaking his first complete sentence.
Lily gasped, and picked Harry up in her arms. "James! Did you hear that?"
James hugged them, kissing Harry on the nose. "Lily and I love you too, Harry. We will unconditionally love you forever-"
"-and ever." Lily finished. "All right, James, I'm going to take Harry to bed now. He'll be tired."
She was already upstairs when the door was blasted open. Harry listened as James tried to warn Lily and hold Voldemort off, and listened as a regretful voice uttered the Avada Kedavra. Lily was screaming and trying to blockade the door, her wand also not in hand. Just then, the nursery door was forced open and the piled furniture cast aside with a single flick of Voldemort's wand.
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" She cried, throwing her arms wide to shield Harry from sight.
"Stand aside and you will not be harmed… stand aside, now."
"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead-" She begged.
"Stand aside. You need not die." Voldemort hissed.
"Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy.. Not Harry! Not Harry! Please- I'll do anything-"
"I will not kill Harry Potter." Voldemort said calmly.
"I- don't kill him and I will be forever in your debt." She pleaded.
"It will be all right, mother." Harry piped up from behind her, not bothering to fake the lisp. "He will not kill me because he is not my enemy, and nor am I one to him."
"Wha- Harry?" Lily turned to stare at him.
"I have been reborn, mother." Harry said softly. "Voldemort will be good to me, and remember that I love you and father forever and ever too." Once he'd finished speaking, he made eye contact with Voldemort and jerked his head in a tiny nod.
In a split second, Lily was dead. Using his powers as the Master of Death, he gathered the souls of Lily and James and channeled his power into them so that they could take on a hazy appearance.
"Mother, Father, I'm sorry that I did not stop your deaths. Fate herself told Death that you two must die no matter what in this life, and I assure you that Voldemort didn't want to kill you either."
James smiled sadly. "That's all right, Harry. We knew what we signed up for when we chose to take part in this war."
"But can you still love me, knowing that I won't fight on the side you chose? I meant it when I said that Voldemort and I are not enemies." Harry pressed, both afraid to hear the answer but also couldn't not know.
"Unconditional love, Harry. Or should we call you Master of Death? This is your life." Lily said firmly, James nodding too.
"Thank you." Harry whispered.
With a sound like the soft release of a breath, Lily and James faded away to the afterlife.
"Sorry about that." Voldemort said hesitantly.
"Don't worry, Fate did tell me that their deaths should not be stopped. It was one of the few things truly set in stone for this timeline." Harry reassured him truthfully. "Besides, you tried to set Lily's worries aside."
"That I did." Voldemort nodded, surprised with himself.
"See? You can be sweet sometimes." Harry said with a half-smile to lighten the mood. "Anyways, we need to get started on creating your first Horcrux." Harry said with a shrug. "Death!" He called into their mental link.
"Hello Master." Death said as he materialized next to them.
"Remember what we talked about? Time for you to recreate something similar to a Horcrux in me without actually splitting Tom's soul." Harry said to Death, pointed to his forehead.
"What do you mean by 'something similar'?" Tom frowned. "Which characteristics?"
"All the characteristics that a normal Horcrux would have, excluding the pain when we touched and the fact that I had a piece of your actual soul. Basically, it'll feel as Dark as a Horcrux to magically sensitive people. Also, we can still enter each other's minds, see visions, possess each other, blah blah blah." Harry waved his hand.
"That's interesting." Tom commented.
"All right, I'm going to do it now." Death interrupted them. "It's going to hurt." Death said, and that was all the warning they received. With a blinding flash, Harry felt a searing pain stab through his forehead and gingerly raised his hand to feel the newly created lightning-shaped scar.
"Whew. Do I still have my mother's protection? Dumbledore will be suspicious if I don't." Harry stated.
Death touched Harry's scar with a single, skeletal finger. "Done."
"All right, Harry. I should probably leave now." Tom said, already raising his wand.
"But what about the Dark Mark? Won't your Death Eaters and Snape be able to tell that you're not gone?" Harry questioned.
Death grasped Tom's left forearm and pressed into the mark. "There. It'll remain faded. You can still call your precious little 'Death Eaters' whenever you want, but it won't return in full force until you want it to. I'll leave you to your own devices to figure out how to swear the traitor Death Eaters into silence. Also, I've changed the timeline so that Dumbledore himself finds you at this house. Speaking of which, he'll be here in minutes." Death popped away after that.
"Got it." Voldemort nodded before apparating out of the home.
Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore was filled with trepidation and anticipation. He had been waiting for either the Longbottoms or the Potters to be attacked, and finally, his plans came to being. The alarm had just been sounded for the Potters' house, and he rushed over immediately. This moment would either confirm or negate his suspicions regarding the prophecy, and his heart leapt at the thought of Lord Voldemort no longer terrorizing the war-torn magical society of Britain.
He strode into the house and felt something crumple inside him when he saw James Potter, one of his favorite former students and more recently a close friend, lying dead on the ground. He was spread-eagled, eyes glassy and unseeing, features contorted and forever frozen in fear. Shaking his head mournfully, he made his way up the stairs to the nursery room. Lily Potter was also dead, a look of shock on her tear-stricken face. He prepared himself as he walked towards the crib. If the prophecy was true, the boy would be alive, and his parents' death would not have been in vain.
Heart beating quickly, he almost collapsed when he saw the boy's eyes closed. Sure, Voldemort wasn't in sight and was probably defeated for now, but what if the boy had died too? Had he been wrong?
But then, with a wave of relief that almost brought him to his knees again, he almost wept with happiness when he saw the tiny chest flutter as Harry took small breaths. He had been correct about the prophecy! This boy would be the one who held the power to defeat Voldemort! Euphoric, Dumbledore picked up the sleeping figure of the boy and frowned when he noticed the scar. With a sharp intake of breath, he realized that there was an undeniably dark trace of magic in the scar, interwoven with something that he recognized as being impossibly light.
Glancing at Lily's corpse, arms still outstretched in a protective manner, he realized that the light magic was something like a mother's sacrifice. The dark trace of magic, on the other hand, was certainly where the killing curse had struck Harry. But something seemed off about the curse scar. Perhaps the unusually potent, malignant nature of the magic emanating from the scar was due to the hate behind the killing curse, but he was wary and sensed that it was likely something more.
Deciding to investigate the scar to the best of his abilities later, he returned his attention to the boy in his arms. He felt sorrow and guilt with what he was about to do. Lily's protection magic would only work if he was placed with family of Lily's blood. He closed his eyes and murmured "forgive me" before apparating to the Dursleys. After a brief conversation with a sobbing Hagrid and sorrowful Minerva, he conjured a box and swaddled Harry with a blanket, placing a note on top of it all. Finally, he apparated away with a small pop, leaving the child alone in the cold and dark.
Dumbledore didn't even notice that the boy had been faking sleep ever since he'd entered the nursery.
0-0
"Vernon!" A shriek tore through the silence of the early morning. The piggish, beady-eyed man hurried over, turning purple when he saw the thing at his doorstep.
"What tramp dared put that thing here?" He demanded, jabbing an accusatory finger at the seemingly asleep baby, who was neither asleep nor a truly a baby.
Petunia bent down and picked up the note on the blanket, turning pale. "V-Vernon, it's the freaks."
"What?!" He squawked, grabbing the note in his pudgy fist from her hands. His eyes grew comically wide and his face ashen as he read the note.
"We'll have to take the freak in." Petunia whispered, thunderstruck.
"No we bloody well won't! They can't tell us what to do." Vernon spluttered.
"Vernon, the man who wrote this letter is powerful." Petunia swallowed. "And, our Dudders will be protected if we agree to the man's demands. We cannot say no. They will not let us."
Vernon growled and thrust the boy down forcefully into a boot cupboard under the stairs. "We'll make sure that our Dudders will not be tainted by the vermin."
"Of course, Vernon dear." Petunia agreed.
"Boy!" Vernon called out. Harry had finally been old enough to reach the stovetop if he stretched his hand far enough, and Vernon decided that now would be a good time to start having Harry do his proper share of work in the house. "Make us breakfast!" He commanded.
The four-year-old stood at the doorway, head tilted to the side as he regarded Vernon with those weird, unnaturally green eyes. "Well?" Vernon snarled, not expecting the boy to answer. He hadn't spoken this entire time, anyways. Serves to show what kind of freak he was.
"I think not, Vernon." The child said smoothly.
Vernon gasped and flailed backwards before regaining his temper and flushing angrily at his shock. The boy just spoke for the first time, and Vernon didn't like what the freak had said. "What did you say to me, boy?" He roared.
"Are you stupid? I said no." The boy repeated coolly.
"Wha- Petunia!" Vernon stuttered.
"Yes, dear?" She appeared to Vernon's side.
"The freak spoke, and for the first time! And he said he wouldn't do the chores. I'm going to teach him a lesson." Vernon blustered furiously, pulling out a belt and advancing upon the boy.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Uncle dearest." The boy shot him a terrifying smile, his voice still creepily calm.
"Stop taking like that!" Vernon shouted, bringing the belt down with a crack. Instantly, there was an explosion that sent Vernon crashing against the opposite end of the house. Blinking as he cleared his disoriented shock, he purpled as he saw the boy standing stoically without having moved an inch. Bellowing furiously, he charged like a crazed bull. Last second, he was thrown to the side with a painful snapping sound as his ample backside hit the countertop. Groaning, he tried to stand, but felt something invisible putting weight on his shoulder.
"I warned you." The boy said in an eerily soft voice.
"F-freak! Stay away from us." Vernon cowed.
The boy's eyes turned icy hard. "Petunia, call over Dudley." He said without looking over his shoulder.
"But-"
The boy snarled and sent Dudley crashing through the ceiling where his bedroom was and landing on the ground with a heap. "M-mummy!" He howled, tottering towards Petunia, who was rushed over to him.
"Silence." The boy said chillingly, and Dudley found his vocal chords muted. His mouth worked furiously, but nothing came out.
"Excellent. Now that we've had a proper family reunion, I think it's time that we established some ground rules." Harry said coldly. "First, you cannot say the word 'freak' in this house. Second, you will treat me as you would if the Child Services were breathing down your neck at every second. In short, you will not force me to do the chores and you will not abuse me in any manner. You're adults; you can take care of the cooking and cleaning around here. Third, you will not ever speak word of me to anyone. Ever. Fourth, you will not monitor my goings or in any other way interfere. Leave me alone and I will leave you alone. Even if I disappear for days at a time, don't do anything about it. Oh, and don't even think of enrolling me in school. Any transgressions and you will be severely punished."
"But the government officials will know you exist and aren't at school." Petunia pointed out fearfully.
"I've already taken care of that." Harry said indifferently. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be moving into the empty bedroom."
"That's mine!" Dudley howled, Harry having just removed the silencing spell. Harry spun around, his eyes terrifyingly intense. He grinned maniacally as he walked over to the furious Dudley. Without even moving, he was able to send Dudley reeling backwards with a slap that left a dark red handprint on his fat face.
"M-mummy! Freak hurt me!" He cried.
Harry's gaze turned murderous. "What did I say about using that word?" He said a dangerous edge to his words. The idiot Dudley didn't think, shouting a "Freak!" In Harry's face.
Quicker than the blink of an eye, Dudley was tossed against the wall, an invisible force pinning him by the neck. "You. Will. Listen. To. Me." Harry said clearly, and with each word, a forceful slap sent Dudley's head careening to the side. "The only reason why you haven't been castrated yet is because you're five. Even still, you should have some sense of humanity. Precious cousin, are you listening to me now?" Harry said sweetly.
Dudley nodded hastily, tears streaming down his red cheeks.
"Good, because I'm not going to repeat this again. Leave me alone and I won't make you carve the word 'freak' into your own flesh. Petunia and Vernon, see to it that your fool of a son doesn't make me kill him." He said with a freezing finality, releasing the boy with a twitch of his fingers. Petunia was sobbing.
"Oh, and because I know you'll probably go squealing to someone about me in hopes of getting me away from this home, I've made it so that you literally cannot speak of my existence, hint towards it, or communicate anything about me in any way. That includes trying to speak about what I've done to you or done in your presence, such as our current conversation. If you want to test it, try writing my name. You'll feel a choking sensation until you desist." Harry smiled with cruel amusement before striding upstairs.
"Mummy, will we have to listen to Ha- " He gasped, feeling the choking sensation. "I mean, frea-" and the choking sensation intensified. Only when he'd stopped trying to mention Harry did the choking subside.
"Vernon," Petunia uttered, terrified. "He really meant it, then-" And she felt her throat constricting.
"That littl-" And Vernon was clutching at his throat as well. Refusing to believe it, he tried to write expletives about Harry on a piece of notebook paper, but was seized by spasms that almost made him black out when he tried to do so. Resigning himself to his fate, he slumped against the wall. What had they awoken in the boy?
Harry Potter was very satisfied with the ways things had turned out. Smirking maliciously, he recalled the look of terror on the Dursleys' faces. He would never allow them to abuse him this time. Casting a disillusionment spell on himself, he willed his body into his 'eternal form' that Death mentioned, taking upon the appearance of his twenty-year-old self. Knowing that the Trace didn't apply to deliberate, wandless magic, he apparated without a worry into the back of a shop at Diagon Alley. Before he undid the disillusionment spell, he willed his features to shift slightly, as Death promised he was capable of doing. His eyes faded into a more grey than green color, jawline softened, hair turned blonde and somewhat less untamable. In his eternal form, his body was free of any flaws, which meant even his poor eyesight was fixed. Stowing the glasses in a pocket, he strode out into Diagon Alley after making himself visible again.
Nonverbally casting notice-me-not charms, he walked towards Gringotts and wove around the hordes of shoppers.
"Good afternoon, Griphook." Harry bowed towards the goblin that he recognized from so many lives ago.
The goblin stiffened, curious that a wizard would take the time to know a goblin by name and show respect. "I do not know you." He said bluntly. "How do you know me?"
"I would be glad to explain if we could find somewhere private." Harry said, gesturing towards the other patrons at the bank.
"Follow me." The goblin said after a pause. Once they were situated inside his well-sealed office, he turned to the strange man. "Speak." He commanded.
Harry smiled. "Goblins do not take sides in wizarding squabbles, correct?"
"Obviously." Griphook sneered at the thought.
"I am also neutral in the unfinished war, and my… position would prove to be dangerous if others knew of my identity. So I trust that this will be a confidential matter between us, then?" Harry continued.
"Of course." Griphook smirked, intrigued.
"Thank you, Griphook. If you could bring out the inheritance test, you will find the name of my true identity." Harry offered.
Griphook complied, and Harry cut himself with the magical dagger, placing a drop of his blood in the bowl. They watched as a piece of parchment began filling with words. "Harry James Potter, Master of Death…" Griphook breathed, haughtiness forgotten.
"The one and only." Harry grinned.
"How did your disguise not register when you walked into Gringotts?" Griphook asked.
"Master of Death, remember?" Harry pointed towards the parchment. "Anyhow, I would like to reclaim ownership of my vaults. Albus Dumbledore has held the key to my accounts for some time as my magical guardian, but he has never come to see me, has not raised me, and didn't even tell me about the magical world. I dumped me with my magic-hating muggle relatives." Harry said with a derisive snort.
"That would render him no longer legally your magical guardian." Griphook said slowly, looking over the regulation about magical guardianships. "But you are not of age to claim your vaults."
"Check the age listed on the parchment." Harry said cheerfully.
Griphook's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "4044 years of age." He gasped.
"I actually thought I was a couple decades younger than that, but it's hard to keep track." Harry said offhandedly. "Never mind that, I'll erase my true age and the 'Master of Death' title from that parchment and replace it with my biological age."
Griphook's eyes narrowed. "You cannot change bank records."
"This isn't me being a pompous wizard looking down upon you, Griphook. If I remember correctly, the sixteenth clause of Goblin Nation law number two hundred and twenty four allows for records to be changed under certain extenuating circumstances. One of those circumstances is when it will put a wizard in mortal danger due to a pre-existing condition, and that the wizard is innocent of the consequences imposed upon him. Me being Harry Potter and the Master of Death, something that Dumbledore once craved, would make me a prized weapon for both sides of the war due to a prophecy made about me and the Dark Lord." Harry stated factually and without hesitation.
"That is true." Griphook admitted begrudgingly. "All right. I will change the records as you wished. While you will be able to take ownership of your vaults, the Ministry will be curious when they see that a four-year-old has been cleared to own his family vaults and emancipated."
"Ah, but that's where two important things come into play. First, it is a law of pureblood customs and in turn, the Ministry, that if the Heir is the last of his family and there are no adults or Lords of his name remaining, he becomes the Lord if the previous Lord consents. This is where the second thing comes into play. If you read my parents' will, Lord James Charlus Potter and my mother made it clear that I cannot be placed with Petunia at all costs, should my parents die before I do. They listed four other guardians possible, and my magical guardian has willfully disobeyed their wishes. If you'll note what Lily Potter wrote beneath her statement about her sister, she said that if I ever was forced to go to her sister's, I would be officially emancipated so that I would not be made to endure Petunia as a guardian. Hence, I am emancipated, and by Pureblood custom, I am also the Heir. My status as a legal adult also elevates me to the rank of Lord Potter, putting me in effective control of all the Potter vaults and anything else left to me." Harry listed casually.
Griphook was gazing at Harry with growing awe. "Those are all in compliance with wizarding, pureblood, and goblin regulations. And your mother did say so in her will."
"I have one thing to ask of you, though; would you consent to be my manager of all my vaults at Gringotts?" Harry posed the question respectfully.
Griphook flashed him a sharp smile. "I would be honored to, Lord Potter." And he handed over the Lordship ring, which Harry took gladly.
"Excellent. In that case, I would like to have a full account statement and a list of all properties I inherited." Harry grinned. "I would also like to invest in Tesla, Maserati, Harcourt Publishing company, The New York Times, The Daily Prophet, Flourish and Bott's, Honeydukes, and also in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes when it starts up."
"Here is your statement and list and I have bought near-majority or majority shares in your invested companies." Griphook handed over a another long piece of parchment. "Lord Potter, would like to claim ownership of all titles?"
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, puzzled.
Griphook only pointed at something below the large figure listing the number of galleons in his vault. Harry stared that space that Griphook was pointed at, shocked.
Account balance: 2,843,902,048 galleons, 13,139 sickles, 1,033 knuts
Families and Lordship status:
Potter- Lordship claimed
Peverell- Lordship unclaimed
Black- Heir status unclaimed
"Wow." Harry mumbled under his breath. "I had not checked my lordships during my first life. Hey Griphook, why does it list me as the unclaimed Lord of Peverell? Wouldn't they have more direct descendant that would be the Lord instead?"
"Not quite. You are part of the main branch of Peverells, though. Any other descendants would not have as strong of a claim to the seat. There is a currently living descendant of an older Peverell brother, but the descendant has made it clear that he will not claim the Peverell status." Griphook stated.
"Currently living descendant of an older Peverell brother who ceded the Lordship position?" Harry echoed, thinking. "Oh. I should have known. It's Voldemort, isn't it?"
Griphook's mouth twitched with amusement. "Apologies, it's confidential bank matter."
Harry laughed. "All right then. I'll claim my Peverell Lordship and Black Heir status."
"There is no Peverell Lordship ring left in any of your vaults, Lord Potter-Peverell." Griphook noted, surprised. It was rare for a family to not store their Lordship rings at Gringotts when waiting for an Heir.
Harry almost snorted. "Yeah, I think I know where it is, though." He said fondly, thinking of the ring and the resurrection stone inside.
Half an hour later, Harry left his vaults with a bottomless, featherlight, undetectable extension charmed bag filled with a couple thousand galleons. This would be enough to last him for a solid decade, but at the moment he just wanted to buy everything he needed.
To start, Harry bought an extendable trunk to store all his purchases inside. He cleared out a good portion of Flourish and Bott's, his newly bought books lining the shelves to the side of the trunk's interior. He also bought the finest potion supplies and all sorts of ingredients, planning on having a little fun with brewing when back at the Dursleys. In addition, Harry also purchased several magical instruments, including some handy and professional rune-carving supplies. He also went to Madam Malkin's and bought a fully-furnished set of the finest, most expensive and fashionable clothes for his eternal body self, and several sets of excellent robes for his biological body that would grow with him. Harry was planning to grow tall and fill out nicely in this life, unlike his first time's malnourished self.
Once done with these more mundane purchases, he left for Ollivander's. Ollivander looked confused by Harry's appearance, as though sensing something was off but didn't question it.
"Greetings, Mr…?" Ollivander looked at Harry inquisitively.
"Charles Smith. I'd like to purchase a wand since my previous one broke." Harry lied smoothly.
Ollivander blinked. "My apologies, I did not recognize you. What was your previous wand?"
Harry only shrugged. "It was my great-grandfathers. Beech and dragon heartstring, ten and a half inches. We got it from a private maker in France."
"I see. Did it work well?" Ollivander asked while the measuring took recorded different lengths.
"Somewhat. Never felt like it truly recognized me, though."
"Family wands do have that issue often." Ollivander agreed. "All right, you're all set. Try this one: cherry and dragon heartstring, twelve inches, firm and unyielding."
It didn't work.
"Perhaps ash and unicorn hair, nine and a half inches would work better, loyal and strong."
This one didn't respond either.
"Fir and unicorn hair, decisive and focused."
Nope.
And on and on it went, until there was a pile of boxes to Harry's left almost as tall as the pile he remembered from his first life.
"-and perhaps this one will work." He had tuned out Ollivander before listening again.
Harry sighed at the silver-black wand, wondering if this one would blow up in his face like the last one did too. He was waiting for the phoenix feather wand.
Harry took the offered wand and tiredly swished it. To his great surprise, he felt an instant surge of magic that seemed more powerful than he'd ever felt with his original phoenix wand.
"What wand is this?" Harry asked in wonder.
Ollivander turned his eerily pale, grey eyes on Harry. "I remember every wand I've sold and made, Mr. Smith, and this one is not entirely my creation. A French wandmaker associate sent me the core. This is a yew and thunderbird feather wand, thirteen and a half inches."
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Thunderbird feather? I didn't know that it could be a wand core."
"There are very few thunderbird feather wand cores, Mr. Smith. My French associate experiments with wand cores, and so far, none of his experimental wands have found a master."
"Interesting. Do you happen to know the properties of this wand core?" Harry asked, twirling the wand in his hand.
"Thunderbird feathers are difficult to procure, as thunderbirds do not shed and only offer a feather if they know it will be used well. These magical beasts are of immense power and fierce will, and they are a close relative of the phoenix. For this reason, wands with thunderbird feathers are unusually receptive to strong magical cores, and their owners are typically as much of a force of nature as the thunderbird." Ollivander answered calmly.
Harry gave the wand an appraising look. This was an interesting development. Harry thanked the man, paid for his wand, and apparated to Riddle manor.
He found himself pinned to the wall with a wand at his throat, his purchases cast to the side. "Who are you?" Voldemort hissed. Harry noted with faint surprise that Tom was as handsome as before, though looking to be in his middle thirties.
"Tom, it's Harry. I just did a little bit of modification to my eternal form."
"Prove it." He commanded, not moving the wand.
Harry sighed and undid the modifications until he was in his natural eternal body. "There. Happy?"
Tom growled and lunged forward, pressing his lips to Harry's. He pulled at Harry's lip, drawing a little blood as he sucked at his skin. Harry moaned into Tom's mouth as Tom drew closer, positioning him firmly against the wall. Tom was still pinning Harry's wrists above his head, which Harry found oddly erotic as he leaned into Tom's insistent, warm body. Tom's dominant posture was demanding and authoritative, two traits that Harry found extremely attractive.
"Harry." Tom rumbled between passionate kisses. "I've missed you so much." He emphasized each one of his words, trailing kisses down Harry's jaw and neck. Harry instinctively bared his neck to Tom's lips, and his eyelids fluttered as Tom reached his collarbone. Each spot that Tom kissed left a tingling sensation. The hand that wasn't pinning Harry's wrists to the wall crept up Harry's shirt, Tom's long fingers probing Harry's tightened torso. Harry let out a little gasp as he arched his back, planting his chest over Tom's.
Their magics swirled and reacted with one another, roiling like the waves of a tempestuous ocean. Both wizards were extremely powerful, and the combination of their auras was enough to saturate the very air with tangy, sweet, magic. The surges of magical power further heightened their senses, and their magical auras were like a caress and sting all at once.
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[There's a smut scene here, but it's been removed due to FFN's policies.
You can find it on Ao3 at Eternal Hilarity's second chapter under the username Queenfic]
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When he'd recovered, he pressed a deep, longing kiss against Tom's, enjoying the calming feel of Tom's presence. Finally, with great willpower and self-control, Harry pulled away after several more minutes of pleasure. "Tom," he sighed, heart still beating furiously in his lust. "I want you to hold me."
Tom understood, cleaning their mess with a flick of his hand and drawing Harry into an embrace as he apparated into the master bedroom. They lay side by side and facing each other, Tom's leg over Harry's and entangled in the soft covers. Harry cupped Tom's cheek and pressed his forehead against Tom's.
"It's been almost six decades." Tom murmured. He gazed at Harry with hunger, holding on to him as if he would disappear.
"I wanted to come to you the moment I was dropped off at the Dursleys, but I needed to ensure that they wouldn't tell the old man that I periodically went missing." Harry explained.
"Did they hurt you this time around?" Tom asked, concerned.
"No, I got them to leave me alone." Harry smirked.
"That's my beloved." Tom smiled fondly.
Harry buried himself into Tom's shirt. "I've missed this so much." He admitted, voice slightly muffled by the fabric.
"As have I." Tom reassured Harry, pressing his thigh firmly atop Harry's. "Every waking moment I thought of you. When I struggled to find a place to sleep after leaving the orphanage, I thought of your warmth. When my followers tired me I thought of your wit. When Dumbledore saw me as a monster I thought of your love. You have kept my soul alive, Harry." Harry met Tom's eyes with a blazing, protective love, and he tightened his arms around Tom.
They basked in each other's presence in silence before Harry thought of something. "How come I was able to apparate directly inside your manor?"
"I keyed your blood inside the wards. But, when someone who looked like a stranger appeared, I was understandably wary. The only reason why I didn't shoot a killing curse at the intruder first thing was because there was a chance that it was you." Tom answered.
"I'm touched that you didn't try to kill me." Harry said dryly.
"You should be. That's already one big difference from now and the first time." Tom pointed out.
"Yes, it definitely is." Harry laughed softly. He propped himself up on an elbow and gazed at Tom with a mischievous grin. "However, I can think of several other things that I'll want to change."
Tom's eyebrows shot upwards in anticipation. "Oh? Do tell."
"When are you going to call your Death Eaters to you? Let them know that you've returned from your 'defeat'?" Harry inquired.
Tom was thoughtful for a moment. "Not certain. I've already established a false identity as Caius Tomae Valerius in Wizengamot before my official return as Lord Voldemort."
"What's the story behind the name?" Harry inquired.
"Valerius is an ancient pureblood family in Italy, and has existed since the Golden Era of Rome. Their line is rumored to have disappeared, but because the Valerius family has been secretive and hidden from the public for a good few centuries, most believe that there still is a Valerius alive. Interestingly, the Valerius family married Salazar Slytherin's second grandson, which is why I can legally claim descent from the Valerius family." Tom explained factually.
"Are there any other Valerius members known or alive today?" Harry wondered.
Tom smirked. "Actually, no. That means I'm Lord Valerius, which is most convenient for my prestige, especially considering that I have emerged from nowhere."
Harry gave Tom an impressed look. "That's pretty nice. Did Death have a hand in this?"
"Maybe." Tom said smugly. Upon Harry's incredulous look, he elaborated. "Fine, Death did establish this fake identity and altered my bloodline slightly to make my Valerius heritage more significant. He also took care of any concerns Gringotts would have, and I'll have you know that the vaults that I now own under the Valerius name are enough to rival even the Malfoys."
"So you're a rich kid now, huh? Just like your Malfoy heirship in our twentieth lives." Harry teased. The Valerius properties and gold, added onto the Riddle land and muggle money would indeed make Tom a 'rich kid'.
"You're one to talk. Your Potter fortune is one of the greatest amongst all purebloods in Britain." Tom pointed out.
"Fair enough." Harry sighed. "What are you going to do as a politican?" He prompted.
"Subtly influence the Wizengamot to see the err of their narrow-minded faith in the Light." Tom replied promptly. "Though, I'll be hard-pressed to find the patience to deal with the sniveling Ministry officials." He sneered.
Harry laughed and poked Tom in the side. "Honestly, I wouldn't be able to stomach their little games and groveling either. But if anyone could handle them, you and your charisma would be the one."
Tom sighed irritably. "Yes, I can play them easily, but it doesn't mean that I have to enjoy their presence. All this talk about politics is souring my mood. Distract me- what did you say you wanted to change in this life?" He shifted the topic.
Harry hummed as he mentally went over his plans. "I was thinking that you should summon your Death Eaters soon, and you could introduce me as a partner Dark Lord." He said gleefully, eyes glinting.
"A little bit presumptuous to assume that you'll be my fellow Dark Lord." Tom drawled.
"Please, you know that you love my Dark Lord persona." Harry grinned, baring his teeth in a devious smirk.
"That I do." Tom conceded. "Have you thought of a name for your Lordship title?"
Harry's smile turned feral. "I was wondering when you'd ask. What do you think of 'Lord Diabolus'?"
Tom gave Harry a deadpan stare. "Diabolus? Really?"
Harry sniffed. "We couldn't both have French-inspired names."
"So you chose Latin?" Tom quipped.
"Well, what about your name? Honestly, it's a miracle that no one's called you Moldyvort yet." Harry snorted in a dignified manner.
"Careful, beloved, I might just curse you for that." Tom warned Harry with mock seriousness.
"Poor Moldyvort. Don't like being laughed at?" Harry tilted his head in a false pout. Laughing, he leapt off the bed to duck the crucio curse and continued to giggle maniacally as Tom chased him out of the bedroom with hex after hex.
"Love you!" Harry shouted faintly from somewhere down the hallway, still cackling.
Tom sighed in amused exasperation before shooting a final curse at Harry's retreating figure.