I can't help it. This idea's been bugging me a lot lately so I just have to write it down.
WARNING: This is not your typical 'Who's the baby's real father?' type of story. Don't take what you read for granted. This is still a MYSTERY fic so feel free to read between the lines.
'Take a deep breath- in and out, in then out…'
Those words Abraxas Malfoy had been repeating in his head over and over for the last few hours were easier said than done. It was evident by the way he kept his head low as he paced around his study whilst wringing his hands. The shock didn't come to him until he finally returned to the manor and even more so when he remembered what day it was today. Specifically, who would be coming today in- he checked his pocket watch with a shaky hand- exactly five minutes.
No, it wasn't that he wasn't prepared. That meeting room had been rightfully reserved ever since they left Hogwarts specifically for times such as this. It was not the fact that he would be playing host to his esteemed lord- the most powerful wizard he had ever had the fortune to meet- that he can do, hosting that is, as easy as breathing.
It was also not because of the topics he knew would be coming. He had been involved in politics even before he graduated from Hogwarts. Nor was it the topic of dark magic that already ran through his veins before he was even born.
No. It was because he discovered something. Something he had absolutely no idea whether it be good or not, and that uncertainty alone unsettled him more than knowing he was going to commit something illegal.
Especially since this discovery greatly involved him.
Abraxas found himself gasping for air at the phantom heat that seared his left arm where his mark forever painted his skin. Even though the spell never activated anyway. With another shaking hand, he fished his pocket watch from the inner pocket of his vest.
'Take one big breath now- in and out…' willing himself to follow his words this time, Abraxas was able to collect himself to march his way to the meeting room and fixed his appearance just in time to greet the first of his guests.
.
"Abraxas."
The newly-named lord of the Malfoy house nearly jumped out of his skin. He felt his own blood grow cold within his veins knowing what's to come.
He cleared his throat, "M-My Lord?"
He winced at his own stutter but tried to keep any ounce of dignity he had left as he felt a weight come down on his shoulders. A weight made heavier not by the numerous pairs of eyes that shot towards him, but by the specific pair of black eyes as dark as the void of the man sitting at the head of the table.
"I can't help but notice…" Tom Riddle drawled, though pleasant it may seem, sent shivers down not only in Abraxas' spine, but also to the rest of the Death Eaters. The way he tapped his finger over the polished wood only unsettled them further. Knowing exactly what this action meant.
And it's never something pleasant.
"…that you seemed distracted throughout the meeting. Is there something you wish to share to us?" Tom continued; eyes only seemed to pierce him further where he sat.
Here he thought he was able to compose himself enough to disguise his nerves. He was able to participate just fine, and had given his report as intended, but it seemed that nothing really slips from the gaze of the dark wizard before him. Knowing there's no point in denying since he was already caught (try as he might to hide it), Abraxas weighed his options- more like, he scrambled his brain on how to properly say it since there's no easy way to deliver a proper sentence for what he saw.
"You hesitate," Tom followed with a nearly-imperceptible click of his tongue as Abraxas could only open and close his mouth pathetically without a single coherent syllable, "You dare withhold information from me, Abraxas?"
In an instant, red flashed Tom's eyes and everyone present froze in their seats. Some even sent pleading looks to Abraxas- who only became paler than he already was- to just spit out whatever he's keeping. No good ever came to anyone who crossed their lord. Especially when it's withholding information, no matter how trivial it may seem. To the Death Eaters, the fault of one is the fault of all, and Tom never had reservations when it came to inflicting punishments.
"No, my lord!" the Malfoy stood from his seat in alarm, finally finding his voice, "It's not like that at all!"
"Not like what?" Tom tilted his head dangerously.
"It's just… I d-don't know how to say…" his tone lowered, once more looking at his feet.
"Then if you can't say, then perhaps you should just show."
The blonde shot his head up, but before he could say anything, he froze. Quicker than the eye could see, Tom whipped out his wand and casted a silent Legillimens.
Abraxas smiled his practiced smile as he bid farewell to the Ministry official that had faithfully been under his thumb ever since the start of his career. As the one with the most connections in the inner workings of the Ministry, Abraxas made it a point to always check on his resources under the guise of catching up through lunches and small get-togethers in case there were any events just starting to simmer that may prove to be fatal or at least worthwhile to report to Tom. All for the sake of their cause.
Fortunately, apart from a small mishap on the appoint of the new Head of the Depart of Mysteries, there had been none.
For the most part, with Tom's frequent travels to who-knows-where lately, their cause had been playing it silent and subtle. Specifically in the world of politics where they aimed to instill the most of their puppets within the Ministry as much as they can.
It was Tom's brilliant plan to choose and cultivate individuals with potential to their cause under the guise of sponsorships. So far, everything had been smooth sailing but they knew better to be complacent too early in the game. Especially not since Dumbledore's still around.
Abraxas passed through the busy street of Diagon Alley, smiling back and making small talk to those whom he was familiar with. He had a reputation to uphold and keeping a healthy relationship with his contacts was important after all. One can never know when he'd be needing to use them in the future.
He paused momentarily in front of the Quality Quidditch Supplies where he peered through the glass to see their newest display of Quidditch kit for children. His son's birthday was still two months away, and based on what his associate told him who worked in the leading company making the best brooms to date- the newest broomstick wouldn't be out in another month.
Thinking of just going ahead and buy the kit now and hide it until the new broom arrived (he had already pre-ordered, and to be given to him a week earlier than the release date), Abraxas was literally inches away from the doorknob when his whole body froze from shock as if someone had splashed him with freezing water.
There, on the reflection of the glass display, a little boy just passed by.
Alarmed and not believing what he just saw, Abraxas whipped his head around it nearly cracked his neck at the direction the boy just went off to. With the need to settle his nerves, he followed after the boy who went inside a bookstore.
Grabbing a random book to make him look less suspicious, he opened it to a random page as his eyes fixed on the back of the boy's head perusing through the shelves. Once he saw something that caught his eye, he picked it up and started reading through the first pages. Abraxas moved across the wide middle aisle to get a better look of the boy's face. Thankfully, the boy took out a book from a low shelf and true enough, Abraxas was able to get a full view of the boy's face.
He nearly dropped his book from the shock.
The boy- based on his height and features, looked no older than ten- the same age as his own son, Lucius. He was neatly dressed in a matching pair of vest and trousers of the darkest blue it was almost black over a long-sleeved white shirt, and a pair of polished black shoes. His black, wavy hair, was combed in a way it was parted from the side some fell stylishly over his forehead. He was lean but still had hints of baby fat over his cheeks that made him look angelic, and his skin had a healthy tinge of light peach. A button nose, pressed lips, and black eyes darker than the night sky, only the blind wouldn't be able to notice how angelic the boy looked.
However, it was that exact face look that made Abraxas' blood run cold.
He felt like he had been transported back in time. Back when he himself was just a little boy- wide-eyed and excited as he stepped inside the grandness that was Hogwarts for the first time.
Back when he first met a certain Tom Marvolo Riddle for the first time.
Abraxas felt himself swallow a lump he hadn't known that formed in his throat.
There was no mistake.
He had grown up with Tom. Was in the same dorm as him, went to most of the same classes, all through seven years.
And even if he wasn't, he would bet a thousand galleons that anyone who knew Tom and saw this boy, would be able to say the exact same thing.
"They look exactly alike."
As soon as it came, it ended. Abraxas fell back hard in his seat. His once kept hair amess and sweat poured from his temples from both pain and exhaustion for having his mind forcibly invaded. Tom Riddle was a master Legilimens. Many a times he would will himself into the minds of many with ease and peruse through their head as he would casually skim a book. Most did could not even notice his coming and going, and only the rare gifted Occlumens and those trained in it can feel his prodding as swift as the sharpest blade. However, the fact that Tom wrenched free with the brutality of a crude axe was indicative enough that what he saw in Abraxas' mind unsettled him enough to break from his perfect control.
True enough, when Abraxas finally managed to lift his head up and clear the bit of haze from his vision, Tom Riddle sat there in his chair. One hand gripping the arm till his knuckles turned white, while the other held his own face. His eyes widened till the whites filled more than his dilate pupils. The most expressive his followers have ever seen of him apart from anger.
Abraxas wasn't sure whether to be afraid of his Lord's impending wrath, or for the boy that mirrored his likeness who could only be his son.
Tom sharply tugged on his robes and adjusted the cravat on his neck. He paid no heed as his magic thrummed all around him, mirroring his ire.
It had been a week- an entire week since he saw the boy from Abraxas' memories.
That boy who looked exactly like him he almost thought he was seeing a past memory of himself. The rage and shock that swelled within him couldn't compare.
Tom Riddle hated being caught off-guard, and the boy's existence was certainly a factor he never dwelled nor expected in his grand plan. And any unknown factor might cause a major rift that could be a problem later on.
If there's one thing he doesn't like, it's that Tom despises not being in control.
Five days have passed and it seems that this sudden turn of events would prove to be a bigger nuisance than he thought.
He had ordered his followers to tail and gather whatever information they have on the boy, declaring it as their number one priority. Thus, plans have been held back indefinitely, and Tom even had to cancel his plans of continuing his travels learning about magic around the world.
In the meantime, he had busied himself with the Malfoy's pensieve to pilfer through his memories of previous liaisons. Tom was sure, he always made sure, that the witches he used to sate this annoying physiological need were protected exactly for the sole purpose of preventing this. When that failed, he scoured each of his memories to find any sort of mismatch, anything that seemed remotely off that allowed this possibility to slip under his nose. By estimate, the boy could only be younger than ten, but as precaution, Tom made sure to see through the start of his forays in sex.
However, much to his anger and frustration, he found nothing.
There was no evidence of his mind being tampered, his memories were fully intact. There wasn't even any evidence of spells or potions backfiring that could cause this. There had been a handful of witches whom he had caught using an amortentia on him, but he made absolutely sure that they were severely punished.
Was this what they called fate's irony?
Up to now, he could still vividly recall the day he laid waste on his poor excuse of a father. He had relished the look of Tom Sr.'s despair with his magic fueled by wrath and bitterness. If only he could do the same to his equally pathetic and disgusting mother. A witch- no, a squib who might as well be the vilest of them all for resorting in something so cowardly as using a love potion and for being so weak as to succumb to death, leaving him at the mercy of wretched muggles until he found magic.
It doesn't matter who the boy is, whether he's really his bastard son or not. He must be removed.
And as for the witch who birthed him? Well, death would be too merciful.
Tom halted in his steps as soon as he saw them.
Much to his displeasure, his followers found nothing on the boy and his apparent mother. There were no recordings of any documents and his familial background might as well be nonexistent. The most they could tell him were their reports on the boy's daily activities as he ordered them to tail him.
True enough, at around noon, the boy and his mother would appear at the Fountain of Eternal Spring in Wizarding London. He observed them keenly. This would be the first time for him seeing the boy with his own eyes and even he can't deny the uncanny resemblance. The only good thing he had gotten from his father were his looks and that apparently held strong if it carried even to his apparent progeny.
If he didn't know any better, the boy might as well be his twin, but that theory couldn't be anywhere near plausible. He had checked. Tom Sr. had lived a life of celibacy ever since he broke from his mother's spell. Furthermore, the timeline wouldn't add up. The boy couldn't be any older than nine or ten. There were also no relatives. Apart from Tom, the Riddle bloodline might as well be extinct.
Regardless, there's a part of him, the ever-insatiable curious side, wanted to know more about the boy. Marriage, much less having a child, had never been part of his plans. He saw no need of it, found it a nuisance even, especially in his pursuit of immortality. There would be no need of any descendants if he were to be immortal.
If this boy really was his own flesh and blood, then what will it say about his magical prowess?
But then there's the boy's mother.
The nameless witch he had apparently impregnated and bore him his 'son'.
His dark eyes narrowed at the bushy brown curls atop her heart-shaped face.
She was another factor he never anticipated. Not only for the current circumstance, but also because he doesn't remember anything about this witch, let alone bedding her. Even if she was just some random romp he snagged on a drunken night, he would still be able to recall her. However, his memories have turned up nothing. Thus, inserting another mystery in the equation.
His blood boiled at the possibility of this slip of a witch somehow tricking him and getting away with it. His search may have proved null but he still couldn't rule out the possibility that his memories have been tampered with one way or another. She had done something. Surely, she must've! What other reason could there be?
And after all this time, why appear now?
Tom watched as the witch and her son stop at a spot by the fountain, other wizards and witches passing by became a blur as his sights focused solely on them. His dark pools narrowed in disgust at their carefree smiles as she cupped the boy's cheeks in her gloved hands. The witch's lips moved, whatever it was being inaudible at his distance, to which the boy nodded obediently. She then bent down to press a kiss on his forehead before touching their noses in eskimo kisses. He was certain they were even laughing between their grins.
Then they parted. The witch pulled up the hood of her cloak and gave the boy a final wave before turning on her heel and slip through the crowd.
When he first saw the pair, he had also ordered his men to tail her, capture her even, but as much as they tried, they couldn't.
As soon as the witch turned a corner, she vanished- apparated, he surmised. To where, none of them knew. To work? Probably. But Abaraxas has yet to fully comb through his resources to know her place of employment. For one thing, she did not work in the ministry or in any of its departments.
How irresponsible of her. To leave her own child in a busy area.
But the witch can be dealt with later.
For now, he'll make do with what he has in front of him, and the boy is certainly an easier target.
.
Diagon Alley was certainly an intriguing place.
Of all the places he had ventured in Wizarding London so far, this shopping area might be his most favorite place yet. Numerous shops of various kind filled the place and its many shoppers made the cobblestone alley even festive.
Personally, he favored Sugarplum's Sweet Shop and Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour the most. His mother had permitted him to indulge this time as a reward for behaving and he'll surely take advantage of it.
Making use of his small and agile body, he snaked between the witches and wizards coming up and down the alley, his mind set on the shop painted pastel pink practically emanating a bewitching scent. His nose was assaulted even more when he entered the shop.
He left with a bag full of cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, liquorice wands, and Droobles Best Blowing Gum. The store owner always gave him more than necessary, especially when he said his mother allowed him to sate his sweet tooth this time. He had only intended to buy some cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs but then again, it wasn't like he was complaining.
Who is he to deny such generosity anyway? It's not like he charmed them or something.
With the treats secured in his messenger bag, he fished out one of the chocolate frogs. After learning his lesson since the first time he was introduced to the treat, he immediately grabbed the enchanted chocolate inside before it even moved. The frog squirmed in his hold between his forefinger and thumb. Its croak broke half-way when its head was suddenly bitten off. The magic dispelled instantly and its limbs no longer moved as it turned into ordinary chocolate.
His dark, bottomless eyes peered down the wrapper where a collectible card of a supposedly famous witch or wizard came with it.
Albus Dumbledore, it said.
He dumped the wrapper and the card along with it into the nearest trash bin before resuming his walk down the alley. Biting off more pieces from the chocolate in his hand with a satisfied smile on his face.
Maybe he could convince his mother for them to eat out for dinner and then have their dessert at the ice cream parlour? She promised she would come home early today since her workload have been easy so far. Not that she would leave him be on his own for too long. His mother always made sure to come home as early as she can.
He paused for a moment when his eyes caught with one of the animals at the window of Magical Managerie. It was a Ball Python. Its forked tongue slipping in and out to taste the air as its large eyes fixed on him. He stared back just as intently and for a moment, his left thumb caressed the ring around his left middle finger- a gift his mother gave him on his birthday. Dark eyes focused on the python's a few seconds more before he broke it to fish out another chocolate frog, biting its head off first yet again.
The bell rang overhead the second he opened the door and the shop owner's head snapped up from where he was reviewing his ledger behind the counter.
"Alduin m'boy!" Garrick Ollivander greeted exuberantly.
Alduin flashed his pearly-white teeth at the wandmaker, "Hullo, Mr. Ollivander. I hope your day has been well so far?"
"It certainly has been. How's your mother?" he asked as he let him slip around the counter to follow him at the back where his workshop was.
Although his mother would fuzz about leaving him on his own whenever she had to go to work, her worries can be appeased by befriending a local whom they can trust to look after him. Fortunately, Alduin was inherently curious and insatiable when it comes to knowledge (courtesy of his mother, probably). So he has no qualms in being left alone with a wandmaker since Mr. Ollivander, the jolly and enthusiastic man that he was, was more than happy to share his knowledge and passion in the art of wand-making.
Although Alduin has no plans of making wands, yet, he was interested in the crafting and lore behind said wands as well as the ingredients used in them. Just like last time, when he would listen to the teachings of a Potion Master during their stay in Louisiana.
"She's been well, thank you for asking," he answered, "Oh I also brought you something, Mr. Ollivander. It isn't much but I do hope you will accept them."
He pulled from his bag a dozen pumpkin pasties he had asked the shop owner to place in a separate paper bag.
The wandmaker's eyes widened at his gesture, "Oh Alduin, you didn't have to m'boy! I never asked for anything when I agreed to your mother that I would watch over you."
"I know, but I couldn't possibly let your goodwill go unrewarded at the very least! I may be young but I know at least it's wise to do a favor from a stranger so easily. Please sir? It would make me really happy if you accept this. Think of it as a small token of appreciation for the knowledge you've shared me so far. I certainly wouldn't know all about the art of wand-making from a book alone!"
"That's very sweet of you, Alduin, but…" the ravenette looked up at him with a coquettish tilt of his head, and purposely widening his eyes with a wide smile of his lips it pushed his cheeks up that it curved his eyes adorably. The moment the man sputtered; he knew he won. This tactic hasn't failed him yet and only his mother has the ability to resist this look, occasionally. Apparently, to the general public, he looked like an angel. "Oh alright! You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Granger. I just hope you won't cause Miss Hermione any trouble in the future."
"I couldn't possibly do that! I promised mother I would be a good boy, after all," he gasped, mocking affronted before breaking out into a laugh as he handed the bag of pasties.
He then made his way to the small stool and desk across the man's worktable and took out a quill and ink bottle, as well as a leatherbound journal his mother gave him, as if he was a student eager to start his lessons.
"Now, where were we?" Ollivander hummed after swallowing a pasty.
"You were talking about the yew wand, sir, and how it's known for making heroes and villains."
"Ah yes! The yew wand! Made from the long-lived trees-"
Hours passed with most of it spent Mr. Ollivander just talking. Once in a while, Alduin would ask a question or two to which he would jot down notes while also taking a bite off the treats he brought with him. Fortunately, school season wasn't near yet so apart from the occasional customer coming by his shop, Mr. Ollivander was free to do his craft. When he wasn't lecturing him about the properties of wood and core ingredients, he would do a demonstration of making a wand.
Alduin always found this more intriguing than lectures, not that it wasn't welcomed. For people to harness such power through a stick… well, his mother rarely used hers whenever she's at home. Since there's nothing for her to use it on anyway. Although she had shown him hers when he asked once. A vine wand with a dragon heartstring core, its carved vines snaking around the length weathered through time.
He bid the wandmaker farewell and a promise to return tomorrow at the same time. The raven-haired wanted to stop by Eyecatcher's before going back to the fountain where his mother would always meet him after work. He has about two hours to spare and that was enough time to peruse the shelves and read a few that caught his fancy. His mother may be a bit strict on his diet but she has absolutely no problems if he spends his allowance on books. Maybe there's something there he could get her as well. That book shop may not primarily display the most newly released books but his mother taught him that the hidden gems are always found in these places.
'Who knows what books people sold, not knowing their true value?' She once said.
Amidst his thoughts Alduin unceremoniously stopped in his tracks no thanks to the figure he accidentally bumped into. No, not accidentally. The man in the hooded cloak purposely stepped into his path at the last second.
"Watch where you're going, brat! Now look what you've done!" the toxic green color of the cauldron cake's filling stained the man's robes. His hand caught his much smaller wrist and the way he yanked it up made him drop the half-eaten cake from his hand. "Do you have any idea how expensive this robe is?!"
Alduin only looked mournfully at his wasted cake.
"Where are your parents, boy?! I demand compensation!" the man shouted at his face, intending to make himself look intimidating. His shouts have already started to gather looks from the crowd and while most of them looked aghast and pitying, Alduin knew no one would step in unless there happened to be an Auror among them.
Instead of shaking in fear however, the raven-haired only gave him a dark look.
"You shouldn't waste food," he said.
Slightly taken aback from his unusual reaction, the man tightened his grip on his wrist and further shouted, "Are you deaf?! I said, where are your pa-!"
His tirade was cut short as something heavy and wooden fell on top of his head. He cried out in pain from the impact, making him bend over and let go of Alduin's wrist.
"OW! What in Merlin-" the man was once more interrupted when a peddler's cart suddenly came rolling down the sloping cobblestone, startling the owls as it passed by Eeylops Owl Emporium, before crashing squarely on his back, making him fall face first on the ground.
Amidst the chaos, Alduin stealthily slithered to the nearest alley between two shops and let the shadows between the buildings hide him.
He took a peek from his hiding spot and couldn't help smiling triumphantly as the man was then bombarded by other wizards asking him for compensation this time.
"My, my."
A deep drawl came from behind him, making Alduin snap his head back. He watched as silent footsteps came forward from the dark end of the alley. The shadows stretching as another wizard, this time in complete black robes that blend with the darkness around them, levelled him with a look. Alduin straightened his back to meet the man's equally dark eyes.
"Tell me boy," he began, "How is it that such… misfortune came upon that man at such an opportune time?"
"I wouldn't call it a misfortune, sir. Luck was certainly on my side."
"Luck? Yes… how lucky you are that the chain of the shop's sign and the wheel on the peddler's cart suddenly broke off and hit that man. Such accident could've been yours instead if he weren't there to take the brunt of it instead."
Alduin shrugged noncommittally. That's when the stranger took a few steps closer until he was only a few feet away from him. The light from the setting sun that snuck between the buildings gave enough light for him to see his features.
He couldn't help tilt his head curiously.
"What is your name, boy?"
"My mother told me it is proper manners to introduce yourself first before asking a name," he answered instead.
Red flashed from the stranger's onyx eyes but was gone as soon as it appeared. It only made him more curious.
"Of course, my apologies," he gestured to himself with his hand before motioning towards him, "My name is Tom Riddle, and you are?"
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Riddle. I am Alduin Granger."
'Ah, I do believe mother mentioned that name once.'
AGAIN, please read between the lines, and yes, I borrowed the name 'Alduin' from the dragon in Skyrim.
Will continue depending on the comments.
Ciao~!