I'm baaack! And here are today's results!
Snarry: 32
Harrymort: 41
Threesome: 6
Harry/FemOC: 4
And as for Harry's magical association
Dark: 6
Light: 4
Grey: 19
Yup, it's looking like grey, since Grey is like WAAAY ahead. Sorry for all yall that were hoping for one way or the other but…I'm still taking votes so don't give up!
Also, it's going to be close for the ship! So keeping going!
Just want you do know that no matter what it seems like is going on in the story right now, I AM taking all of your ideas into serious consideration. Also, the more I'm thinking about the future, the more I'm torn. About Dumbledore, that is. Should he be evil and manipulative? Or well-meaning, but kinda oblivious about Harry's situation?
And to answer some questions in the reviews: Lord Voldy IS, in fact, the heir of Slytherin, though Hugo de Fole was another basilisk breeder, and so his descendants would be parselmouths too ;) Yes, it is possible for Harrymort AND Grey!Harry. I'm going to decide both the Ship and the MA on your votes, regardless of what they are. If the winning ship ends up being Harrymort, and the winning MA ends up being Light!Harry, I'd do that. Really, it all depends on your reviews.
Yes, Salazar WILL eventually get married and have other children. It's just that Sammael is his first, he wasn't ready to be married in the first chapter. However, I would like to point out that wizards live longer than muggles (I'm thinking the average would be around 300 years), at this point Sal is in his 40s, so he's still got a long life ahead. He's still a relatively young man. Especially since, if I'm remembering correctly, the average life expectancy in the 10th century was around 35-40. So when you put that in perspective…idk. I'm horrible at maths you figure it out. xD
I think that answered all the questions, if I missed one or you have another, let me know!
May the gods be ever in your favor!
-James
Sammael had never hated anyone before. Not Uncle Vernon who beat the crud out of him on a regular basis. Not Aunt Petunia who had simply stood by and watched. Certainly nobody he'd ever met in the last ten years…but he was certain he absolutely hated Lucetta Portia Tayte. He despised her with every fiber of his being. He stared at the gorgeous, dark beauty with her shapely body, long black curls and cow-like blue eyes. No, he wasn't staring. He was glaring, the look in his eyes literally sparking with angry accidental magic. He hated this witch…who had somehow enchanted his Papa.
He was sitting atop a tall ash tree, his phoenix perched on his shoulder and his basilisk familiar wrapped around his torso. Kai, his phoenix who had accepted him as a friend on his tenth birthday, sympathetically crooned, pulling at Sammael's hair with his golden beak. His brilliant feathers, under a disillusionment charm so that they were not spotted, flashed a melancholy muted orange and white, unlike his normally blazing reds and gold. Besnik, his familiar had been gifted to him when the serpent king was but an egg, once again on his tenth birthday. Salazar had taught him how to spell a toad to "warm" the egg, never moving from its spot. Besnik had hatched two months later, only five inches long, barely a centimeter wide. At birth, his scales had been a pale grey-blue. As he matured, they'd become a dark green. Now, the adolescent basilisk was almost six years old, nearing ten feet in length, and was as wide around as one of Sammael's thighs. Of course, this didn't stop the almost 100 pound snake from draping itself around his master's body.
Not that it bothered Sammael. Truly, he'd been blessed by the deities of luck in his tenth year, for that was truly the best year of his life. For after he'd been gifted the basilisk egg and the phoenix friend, he'd been offered the greatest gift he'd ever received: Salazar had blood adopted him. While he was still lithe and wiry, his body lean and graceful like a snake's, he was no longer small and pathetic looking. He, at sixteen years and ten months, was nearing six feet in height. Not a giant, but certainly not small. A good deal of muscle was packed to his frame. His skin was still pale, his eyes the same unnerving shade of "Slytherin Green". His hair was slightly less unruly, instead handing straight like his Papa's down his back, tied into a tail. He was a strong lad, influenced by his Uncle, he'd taken to physical exertion, enjoying long treks through the forest, climbing trees and bluffs, swimming in the lake and exploring the various caves. So he was well equipped to handle the heavy serpent who was muttering in his ear.
"I can eat her if you'd like" his loyal familiar told him, every bit of him deadly serious. Sammael considered the offer, stroking the underside of Besnik's jaw. Lady Tayte was laughing at something Papa had said, her arm looped through one of his own. For some unearthly reason, Salazar actually looked pleased. "Though I'll bet she tastes horrible."
"I appreciate your offer, my friend," said Sammael, responding in like tongue. "But I have the strangest feeling that Papa would resent that course of action." Kai scoffed at this, shuffling his wings. He could understand parseltongue, even though he couldn't speak it. Instead, he projected his thoughts directly into Besnik and Sammael's minds.
"I do not see the appeal of this Tayte woman," he said loftily. "She's as shallow as a creek in drought. All face, no substance. But then, if Master Slytherin is only courting her to bare heirs that is a useful trait: No one likes ugly babies."
"My Papa already has an heir!" Sammael hissed, filled with hurt, envy and apprehension. "ME!" But what if he wasn't good enough for Papa? Of course Salazar would want his own flesh and blood to inherit his legacy. Who was Sammael, if not some urchin orphan taken in by a respected and kindhearted Lord? Adoptive children never became legitimate heirs…even if they were bound by magic and blood now, Sammael wasn't Salazar's true son. Sammael bit his lower lip, his heart clenching painfully. Kai hummed softly, nuzzling Sammael with his forehead. Besnik tapped his master's cheek with his nose, swiping the fair skin with his forked tongue, as if checking for any damage that was causing the obvious pain shown on the young man's face.
"What if we asked the centaurs to kidnap her?" suggested Kai.
"I thought phoenix kind were supposed to be wise," said Sammael sullenly. "That would start an unnecessary conflict."
"I have no love for Lady Tayte," said Besnik "But I do not see why you are so upset about her appearance. You father certainly seemed to appreciate her presence. And you love children, you get along so well with the students here. Why wouldn't you want siblings of your own?" Sammael sighed. As helpful as his two best friends usually were, they didn't understand many human concepts, such as heirs or family. Phoenixes didn't have flocks, and basilisks were solitary creatures when they were not in a familiar bond with a wizard. Even Besnik hardly interacted with Eadlin, Salazar's twenty-three-foot familiar.
"Because if they had any sons, I would become expendable" replied Sammael simply. It was the logical train of thought. The main reason why he was loath to call the witch 'family', no matter how his father felt about her. However, if he was truly being logical, he would admit to himself that Lucetta wasn't as air-headed as he liked to think, in fact she was a fairly intelligent and extremely powerful witch. Though, she was nowhere near the level either Sammael or Salazar were at. She wasn't even at Helga's level. So, clearly, any child she bore would be inferior to Sammael.
Not that Sammael would ever, ever voice his opinion to his Papa. He preferred the days of years prior, when Salazar ferociously shattered any thought of him ever marrying. When it was just the two of them…and Uncle God and his Aunties…and the fifty-some students who attended. Uncle God had been married when Sammael was eleven, to a pretty little witch named Sophitia. Helga was in an on-again off-again courtship with Lord Hugo. Even Rowena had married three years ago, to a man named Altair. Sammael was the proud "Uncle" of three children; A pair of twins from Godric: Gethin and Hume Gryffindor. And Rowena had a daughter named Helena.
Perhaps Salazar was feeling left out? Yes, that was why he was courting Lucetta. It would pass soon, it was just a fickle fancy. It would disappear like a bad dream and everything would go back to normal. After all, Salazar had no need of any heirs. Not when he had Sammael!
***1047***
(four months later)
Sammael kept his face a delighted mask as he watched the wedding ritual take place. He wore his best, white robes. Kai sat perched on his arm, which was elegantly held in front of him. Besnik was coiled up near his boots, which had been shined to perfection by the house elves. Nearly then entire wizarding community was in attendance at the wedding of Lucetta Tayte and Salazar Slytherin. The ceremony was nearly over; the vows had already been exchanged, the magic taken hold. All that was needed was the bride's accent.
"…to cherish and love, under guidance and protection of Magic, by the witnesses of those gathered, so mote it be?"
"So mote it be."
Cheers erupted all around. Uncle God was actually standing on his seat, throwing his hands up into the air. Sammael smiled at his father, and applauded lightly. Salazar was so preoccupied with his new bride, that he hadn't noticed the unnatural tightness of his son's lips, nor the tense stance he was holding.
Nor the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes.
His Papa wasn't his anymore. His Papa had promised himself to someone else, a virtual stranger no less. To Sammael anyway; he'd only known the woman for a few months, not even yet a year. But Salazar had known her in his youth, back when they were both persecuted for their abnormality. Sammael had never even spoken to her. In fact, he'd hardly spoken to his father since she happened. Sammael stroked his phoenix, feeling the calming magic take over him, giving him the strength he needed to manage his keep his composure the rest of the night. After all, there was still the ball he had to attend.
***1047***
It was nearing midnight, and the ball was still in full throws, not showing signs of stopping anytime soon. But Sammael had left the party. He'd gotten sick of having random Lords, Barons and Counts come up and introduce their progeny—usually their daughters, but there were a fair few sons—all of whom were marrying age. It was to be expected, really, now that Sammael was 17. He was a man. It was his duty to marry and carry on the Slytherin line.
But did he really need to? After all, new heirs were bound to follow this union between his Father and the witch he'd chosen as a bride. Sammael lay on his bed. Kai was sitting on his perch, preening. Besnik lay stretched out on top of Sammael, knowing that the 'cuddles' brought the young man comfort. Sammael's fingers lazily drew patterns in the smooth scales.
He was so trapped in his thoughts, he hadn't realized anyone had entered his room until his Father seated himself on the edge of his bed. A warm, loving hand rested upon Sammael's forehead, slowly smoothing the hairs back. "Little Snake," Salazar said quietly. "Why are you hiding?"
"What makes you think I am hiding, Father?" came the reply. "It is late, and I grew tired. Surly you cannot fault me that."
"No," agreed Salazar. "But I can fault you for avoiding me these last few months" he said in English. "I've missed you, my Little One." No emotion registered on Sammael's face, but painful turmoil raged just beneath the surface. Salazar pretended not to notice, continuing to card his fingers through his son's soft hair. "Why do you not speak to me anymore? Why haven't you joined us with meals? You're outside more often than naught, and you've stopped coming down to my Chamber to help me with potions."
"You've no need of my help," Sammael said, his voice steady only through extreme power of will. "You've your Lady Wife." Salazar was silent, his hand moving from his son's hair to the pale cheek, which he stroked with a finger. His brows were drawn, his lips in a tight frown.
He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his son's face, before slowly standing. Just before he left the room, he turned to face his son. "No matter the blessings that I have been given, nor the treasures I shall receive," Salazar's face grew uncharacteristically soft. "Always know, Little Snake, that you were the first."
***1047***
(Four years later)
Sammael, a handsome, well-accomplished, renowned and respected wizard of twenty-one years, chased his little brother around the room, laughing like an idiot. Selwyn, a toddling three-year-old, shrieked in glee as he flew on his miniature broom. Synnove, a beautiful baby girl of eighteen months, watched her brothers with wide eyes from the high seat she was stuck to with a Sticking Charm.
"I've got you!" Sammael declared, scooping up his brother, tossing him high up into the air. Selwyn wriggled and giggled, flapping his arms like he was trying to fly.
"KILL YOU!" cackled the tiny boy. Sammael grinned. His baby brother was already showing signs of being a psychopath, and he couldn't be prouder. Of course, he'd been the one to teach his brother to shout random threats in parseltongue. It's what any responsible big brother would do when his younger siblings first started showing signs of being able to communicate in a dead tongue.
The fact that their mother couldn't understand a word made it that much better.
Sammael no longer despised the thought of his step-mother, in fact he found she made for good conversation once he'd decided to try speaking with her (the first time was about half way through her first pregnancy). Much to his Father's delight, Sammael took his role as big brother very seriously (well, enthusiastically, anyway.)
"Ssh" came the irritated voice of Kai, who was nearing his Burning Day, and therefore very irritable. "I'm trying to sleep…"
"Lazy old fire goose," yawned Besnik who was stretched out in front of the hearth.
The lot of them stayed like that for a good while: the humans playing and the two beasts lounging about. Until a sound of intense arguing reached his ears. "I'm not saying that!" Salazar's voice echoed in the corridors. "I ask you to not place words in my mouth for me, Brother!"
"Then tell me, Brother," came Godric's voice. "Just what ARE you saying?"
"That they shouldn't be allowed to LEAVE!" Salazar roared. "It's not safe! Burnings are happening everyday!"
"So?" came Godric's irritated voice. "Mundane fire holds no harm for our kind!"
"So" mocked Salazar "The Mundanes are catching on! They aren't just BURNING anymore! They are decapitating! Draw and quartering! Spearing, drowning, locking up and STARVING the magical children! And then they are burning the bodies! What? Did you really think that a fact as obvious as fire not harming certain children would go unnoticed for long?"
"We can't just take them away from their families."
"YES! YES WE CAN! WE'VE GOT A BLOODY CASTLE! THERE'S PLENTY OF ROOM TO HOUSE THE MUNDANE-BORNES!"
"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU SARDING WELL KNEW IT!"
Sammael, as much as he wanted to know what was going on, didn't want his siblings to hear their father this out of control. He cast a Muffliato at the door, then turned back to his sister, who had started to cry, startled at the noise.
"It's fine, Synnove, I promise. They'll stop soon," Sammael cooed to the baby, silently praying that what he spoke was true.
