Silk Roads

by GenderlessPerson

When the road you're on is already in the verge of crumbling, you could either choose to foolishly continue onward, or turn back and change paths. Harry decided on the latter. MoD!Harry, Slash, LV/HP, MPreg

3. Chapter 3

Summary: When the road you're on is already in the verge of crumbling, you could either choose to foolishly continue onward, or turn back and change paths. Harry decided on the latter. MoD!Harry

Pairings: Older Harry/Voldemort, other side pairings

Warning: AU, Time-Travel, Universe Hopping, New Identity, Slash (this means Boy/Boy), MasterOfDeath!Harry, Killings/Torture, Underage M-Preg, Mentions of Rape.

Disclaimer: If I were the author of Harry Potter, Dumbies would have chocked on a Lemon Drop and drop dead, not AK-ed. So no, I do not own Harry Potter.

"Speaking"

"Parseltongue"

'Mental telepathy'

"Spells"

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Chapter 3: Hogwarts Years

1st September 1955
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 1

The sorting continued in a similar fashion; calling of names, announcing of House, and of course the clapping. Oh he was so going to create a spell to reduce volume to one's own ears. Marcaunon could tell that the upper years (mainly sixth and seventh) were bored and hungry, though the house of Serpents was more subtle in their body language and expression.

In Marcaunon's original dimension, most Lions (he's being hypocritical since he was a lion as well) and Badgers (now he's a hybrid lioger) would think that Slytherins are for evil Dark Wizard and Witches. They would lie, cheat and take advantage of you. Of course that's somewhat true, but adults should not judge little eleven year olds. They're children and could not even place a proper mask on yet. It would take at least their reaching of fourth year to master their emotionless blank mask that many Slytherins wear.

He should really stop getting side-tracked.

His eyes scanned the head table. He recognized Horace Slughorn right off the bat; he was much younger looking due to his straw blonde hair (a little on the grey side, but he had hair!) and still plump in the belly. On first glance, he could pass as a pushover Slytherin, making people underestimate him whilst he analyzed them thoroughly. The glee on his face when he heard the name Gaunt didn't go unnoticed by Marcaunon, and he would be looking forward to having a nice chat with the residence Potions' Master.

Next was Armando Dippet. If he remembered correctly the Headmaster was three hundred and eighteen years old, and would be dead next year. This would lead to Bumblebee being chosen as Headmaster.

Lastly was Filius Flitwick. The half-goblin looked to be in his early twenties, and probably new towards teaching. Even though still young, Flitwick's dueling skill was not one to be underestimated. Marcaunon always wondered why Dumbshite never recruited Flitwick for his Order of Barbequed Turkeys. He made a mental note to gain Flitwick as an ally. As they say, one can never have too many allies.

His eyes swept the table once again to double confirm that he had not missed anyone else –which he didn't. The other professors were unknown and he would bet a knut (yess he was that stingy) that Voldemort had already cursed the DADA position. Perhaps he could amuse himself each year by having a hand in making the DADA professors leave early. Maybe he could even feed the Basilisk a professor or two as a peace offering! Isn't that exciting?

The sorting was finally finished –much to the starving students' happiness– and Dippet stood to give an opening and welcoming speech. It was so much better than Dumbafork's. At least he did not attempt to speak garbbish at the end of said speech. The Headmaster clapped his wrinkled hands once and everyone cheered (the first years startled) when the food appeared.

"Hello, I'm Promona Sprout. Hogwarts sure is beautiful, isn't it?" A slightly plump girl with brown hair and eyes, reddish cheeks and bright smile introduced herself to the group of Hufflepuff first years.

Hogwarts truly is a wonderful place he agreed.

"Beautiful? It's amazing! And I'm Arnold Walker by the way. I never knew that magic existed until I've gotten my letter from Professor Dumbledore." The boy sitting across from her replied with a grin on his face and a goblet of pumpkin juice in one hand. His head was a mess of dirty blonde whilst his blue eyes sparkle with happiness. He somewhat reminded Marcaunon of one of the Parasites he had played with. If he remembered correctly, it was a woman he nicknamed Mother, her name was lost to him after he left the Manor.

"A muggle-born? I am as well! My family and I were pleasantly surprised when the Professor dropped by and announced that there was a world of Magic hidden just under our noses. Are you one as well, Sprout? Oh and I'm Connor Hill, but Conner's fine." A boy with neat dark hair and eyes spoke. And as expected, his face was full of smiles. Merlin, he had forgotten that the Badgers are usually filled with mudbloods. They were lucky he refers from shedding Magical blood like Voldie does.

"Please, call me Promona. And pureblood. My family has been in Hufflepuff for generations." Sprout replied. That explained why she became the Head when she's older… Or perhaps being a Herbology professor comes with being Head Puff. Like how all the Potion Master in Hogwarts became Head of Slytherin, or Transfiguration Professors become Head of Lions, he noted.

"Do we have to wear these hats at all times? I'm Christopher Davies, muggle-born. Call me Chris." Another boy questioned. His chestnut brown hair parted sideways, none covering his dark green eyes watching the hats with exasperation.

"No, mum said that the hats are only for special occasions; such as the welcoming feast. This is my little sister Maria, and I'm the more stunning and attractive twin Ave. Our family –the Abbots– has been in all the houses apart from Slytherin." One of the twins answered. Both were identical and only a person that could sense their magical signatures could tell them apart. Marcaunon took note of both.

They had dark blonde hair and brown eyes, similar to an Abbott he knew of back then. Both were wearing identical grins on their faces.

"I am going to deny that my lovely sister being the more stunning twin, do call me Mia. Maria makes me sound like I'm in trouble!" The other twin chirped.

"You both look identical to me… Oh but thank heavens for small mercies. I doubt I could get used to wearing a pointed hat at all times." Davies sighed happily as he grabbed a spoonful of mash potatoes.

What is wrong with wearing wizarding hats!? Bloody Mudbloods are already forcing their traditions and beliefs upon Magicals –contradicting everything. Have they never read the Bible and Magical History!? It's common sense that our magic comes from Goddess Hecate.

Now they complain about our daily wear. What next? Force the Dark Families to tear down their Manors to make room for smaller houses? Making House Elves look Dark and Evil just because 99% of the wizards could never achieve wandless magic? Oh wait! It has already been done in his original dimension.

Marcaunon sneered inward at how pathetic the Ministry has fallen. They should teach Mudbloods about their history, not follow Parasite beliefs! Because of these types of people, Dark Lords were created and the civilians would suffer.

"I heard that Slytherin produces Dark Wizards and Witches. Is that true or are they just rumors? I'm Risa Edeson, call me Risa. I'm a half-blood." A girl sitting next to Marcaunon questioned curiously. She has dark brown hair that reached past her chin, and black sharp eyes that were shining.

Yess Slytherin produces Dark Magicians whilst Hufflepuffs produces splendid gardeners. Note the sarcasm.

"It's true. The very first Dark Wizard to be known was Salazar Slytherin himself. It is said that their common room is filled with Dark Tomes and Artifacts. I'm Suzzie McQuillen by the way. Pureblood." A girl with curly light brown hair and eyes confirmed with a somewhat solemn air that was ruined by her smirk. The rule clearly states that the students are not allowed to bring any Dark tomes or artifacts to school, and it's illegal as well.

He couldn't take this anymore!

Magic is magic; Dark, Light or Neutral. The school should be teaching them about all three, not become bigoted and define them with colors. Dark does not mean Black or Evil. Light does not mean White or Good. Neutral does not mean Grey or borderline Evil.

Dark Wizards don't make them evil, just as Light Wizards don't make them good.

There is no Good or Evil, only Magic.

As much as he wanted to correct them, he would not… Yet. He'll slowly break the children from the Ministry's influences and let them know the true history of Magic.

Once again, he got distracted and now they were all looking at him; waiting for him to introduce himself. He smiled politely back at them. It hasn't been an hour and his facial muscle was ready to collapse on him. He sincerely hopes that he doesn't look constipated.

"Nice to meet you all, I'm Marcaunon Gaunt. I'm sure we will get along nicely."

"Marh-cauw-naun?" Davies questioned, looking quite taken aback. He knew that Mudbloods would generally find these types of names odd.

"Marcaunon." He corrected patiently. "Our family has a tradition of naming their children with … unique names that begins with the letter M."

"What does your name mean, actually? Not to be rude or anything!" Walker asked.

"Ruler."

"What language is it from? I've never heard of such…"

Before Marcaunon could reply, Ave interrupted with a clear of her throat.

"Wow… Is your family uhm… full of dark wizards and witches? I-I mean because only Dark families like the Blacks name their children with … star constellations."

"Indeed they are rather… Dark. Rest assured that I am unlike them. My family and I are not on speaking terms." Because his father had no idea of his existence whilst there is a high percentage that he was forgotten by his mother.

They relaxed and chattered as they ate, him included. He didn't want to be an outcast and forced himself into smiling for social niceties. He wondered idly if there was a spell for making his corners of his lip stick upwards.

True to what others say, Hufflepuff was filled with friendly and cheerful –leftovers– people. Marcaunon almost retched at the sheer sweetness of these Hufflepuffs. He had lost his already small appetite in fear of getting diabetes.

"Did you notice that you have a few insects in your hair, Gaunt?" No, he has not noticed a few butterflies attached to his person all throughout his journey from the orphanage.

"I have. Butterflies have a tendency to flock me." He replied evenly.

"Really!? That's so cool! Did you put butterfly food all over your hair?" Why he was even bothering to give a reply, he would never know.

"Butterflies do not eat, they drink. They have a long narrow tube in their mouth called a proboscis that acts as a straw, and usually set themselves on flowers to drink nectar."

"So you put nectar on your hair?"

"Walker! Stop asking Gaunt such questions! He's embarrassed!" Sprout chided whilst Walker gave an apologetic look towards Marcaunon.

He was not embarrassed! His hair is nectar-free as well, thank you very much!

"It's been in…" Mia started.

"…our mind since…" Ave continued.

"…the boat ride…" They both turned towards him.

"Why are you not wearing shoes?" They asked in unison. "Does Hogwart even allow that? Won't the Headmaster scold you if you do not wear proper footwear?"

"There are no rules that specifically said that students are needed to wear covered shoes. The Headmaster is a busy man. We should finish our food before they disappear." He supplied and the group was quick to shove food into their mouth.

Soon they were finished with eating and the plates disappeared. The fifth year prefects kindly told the first years to follow them and off they went. He somewhat regret asking the hat to place him in Hufflepuff.

The entrance to their common room was a surprise to Marcaunon. Whilst he had the Marauder's Map back then, he had never had an excuse to seek out the Badger's domain. It was located beside the kitchens. They had to tap a rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff on a barrel –middle of the second row, two from the bottom– to reveal the tunnel. The prefects explained that they had a security device to repel non-Hufflepuffs, wrong barrel tapping, or tapping incorrectly. This would result in the lids bursting off and drenching the intruder in vinegar. They emphasized not to give away the secret to the other houses and demonstrated to the first years.

They entered a creepy tunnel that made the girls cling to the guys (he had discreetly retreated to use one of the guys as his personal meat-shield) whilst the prefects looked amused. When they entered the common room, the first years had awe filled eyes and dropped jaws –apart from Marcaunon of course.

The room felt welcoming and warm, the sunlight entering the windows and made the circular room looks quite cosy. If Marcaunon was a cat he would be basking in the sunlight whilst being sprawled on the grassy floor. The room was decorated with plants; giving it an earthly feeling. Some of the plants were even singing and dancing, much to the first year's amazement.

In the middle of the room was a fireplace, with sofas, armchairs, and bean bags littered randomly around.

They were soon introduced to their head of the house, Herbert Beery, before being ushered to their respective gender dorms. The boys would be sharing a room –similar to the Gryffindor dorms–and Marcaunon chose the furthest bed. Thank Merlin that the beds had curtains; the dorm was too sunny and bright for his taste (along with its occupants).

Whilst his dorm mates were still chatting with one another, he went to unpack his trunk. He place his book bag that was already filled with all his required school items on his nightstand, his potion equipment and ingredients inside said nightstand (after applying an expandable charm) and warded it. After finishing his task, he discreetly armed his bed with weapons that he took out from his trunk. One can never know if their roommates were hidden killers.

He kicked his trunk underneath his bed and warded his whole bed, making it almost as safe as Hogwarts itself. Blame his paranoia and those damnable Parasites whom have the habit –and suicidal tendencies– of dropping bombs on top of his cottage.

His dorm mates soon followed his example with unpacking and went to sleep earlier than he expected them to. Well, it was a long and tiring journey to Hogwarts.

He stripped and changed into his sleeping pants, checked that his glamours were still in place and closed the curtains surrounding his bed. As he was lying down, he closed his eyes and cleared his mind.

Marcaunon began his nightly chore of storing his new memories into orbs and placing them onto shelves inside his mindscape –eerily similar to the Hall of Prophecy. He strengthens his occlumency defenses and finally succumbed to sleep; his shields preventing him from having fits of nightmares.

OOOO

Marcaunon spread butter over his croissant whilst he nods or hums at appropriate times as his housemates converse.

"What do we have first?" Walker questioned them as he took a bite of bacon. Marcaunon wrinkled his nose in disgust at the oil splatters. How can one eat something that greasy early in the morning, he could never know.

He turned to look at the boy before he answered with a small upward tilt of his lips.

"First period is Herbology with Professor Beery, followed by a fifteen minutes break, and afterwards Potions with Professor Slughorn for second period. Both will be together with the Slytherins. We'll have lunch afterwards, and then free period until half past three. This will be followed by Flying lessons with Madam Hawk at the field, all the houses will be present. Astronomy with Professor Sora will be at midnight, so I recommend you all to take at least an hour's worth of nap time after dinner."

The group of first years stared at him with wide eyes.

"Do we have similar timetables?" Ave asked.

"Yess." He answered with a nod.

"Blimey, I believe we will not be needing our timetable with Marc here." Davies exclaimed whilst the others laughed.

Marc. He did not in any name or form give them permission to call him that –or even his first name actually. He withhold the desire to Crucio them into oblivion and smiled sheepishly whilst he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I heard that Professor Dumbledore plays favorites with his own house." McQuillen whispered to the group suddenly.

"We should not judge him based on rumors." Marcaunon chided her and hid a grimace behind his goblet. It was true. One of the reasons as to why he chose to become a Badger.

"You're right… Do we have Transfigure tomorrow?"

"Yess we do."

"If he does play favorites, we should trust Hogwarts rumor mill more often." Walker snorted.

"Hmm… May I ask you a question, Marc?" Mia asked with a tilt of her head.

"You already did, but go ahead."

She grinned as she spoke.

"What's your first language? I mean, your accent isn't like any I've heard before. They're somewhat… it's really pleasant to the ears." She blushed whilst most of the others laughed at her, much to his confusion.

He raised an elegant brow. Why was she blushing? It was only a question.

"English is indeed not my first language if that's what you're asking. We have fifteen minutes before first period starts. Shall we get a move on?"

"Ah! You're right. We should go in case we get lost on our way there." Sprout exclaimed as she stood up.

"Hey Ave, should I assume our dear friend Mr. Gaunt has already memorized the layout of the Castle?" Mia asked with a smirk.

"Well my dear adorable sister Mia, I have assumed as much. But why don't we ask him for confirmation?" Ave replied with a matching smirk.

The group turned towards him as they stood, much to his amusement.

"Your assumption is correct."

"How? You were with us the whole time, and we haven't had time to explore!" The twins demanded in unison.

"There's a map pinned beside the double doors of the Great Hall. I memorized the routes whilst the first years were waiting to be sorted." It was the truth –not all, but still the truth. There is indeed a map pinned outside the Great Hall, and he had also memorized the routes whilst he was waiting for the firsties to be sorted, just at a different year.

"W-what!? You memorized the entire castle grounds!? All seven floors!?" Sprout whispered –loudly– in amazement.

He shrugged and led them towards the greenhouse. Some of the Slytherin first years had overheard their not so quiet conversation and were following at a safe distance, not that the Hufflepuffs noticed. Marcaunon resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

After a few shortcuts, they were first to arrive followed by the Slytherin students. Said Slytherin students were all looking at him with calculating eyes and even without legilimency he could already guess what they were thinking. It seems like his group would be stalked if their houses were to have lessons together in the future.

Just a minute before the bell rang; Professor Beery arrived and led them into their classroom/greenhouse.

"Good morning class! You may all refer to me as Professor Beery. I'll introduce you all to the fine subject of Herbology–" He listened with one ear as the Professor explained what was required of them when they were in the greenhouse; like safety.

They soon donned on their gardening robes and gloves. Earmuffs were draped on their necks as the Professor told them about Mandrakes. After half an hour of explaining and warnings their earmuffs were safely covering their ears, and the class began to try and uproot the plants.

He was confused as he thought that they would be learning about Mandrakes in their second year, but he shrugged it off. His mind was soon drifting off whilst he worked. He could think of ways to use Mandrakes.

He could drop a tank full of adult Mandrakes in a village or city. Their cry can be fatal to any who hear it without protection. The Parasites do not know of them and before they could do anything, they would drop dead from prolong exposure of the cries.

Hell, if he can't convince the banshees to scream at those Parasites, he would just have to plant and nurture these plants himself. He was going to make a greenhouse in his backyard after moving into Death's cottage anyway. Maybe Death could help him look after his garden whilst he was in Hogwarts?

… It would be interesting to see if his plants would survive an exposure from Death.

After the end of the lesson with some of the students dropping the plants by accident, they had lunch before heading towards the dungeons. As expected, the Slytherins followed behind them at a safe distance. Was he their shortcut tour guide? Insert dramatic non-existing wind with his deadpanned expression here.

Just as they sat down, Slughorn entered with a jolly smile plastered on his chubby face. He introduced himself before demanding the students to partner up with the other house; much to the Serpent's house ire.

The day continued in a slow pace, and soon they were all in their respective beds. He rubbed his cheeks in a circular motion to try and get his numb facial muscles to feel once more.

His facial muscles were screaming at him in rage at their abuse. Smiling was the worst torture he has ever had the pleasure of experiencing. A couple of decades without moving said muscles apart from talking and eating –ignoring the time where he smiled for a short amount of time in satisfaction – would do that do any guy. Morgana have mercy on his lips.

"Having facial cramps?" His snaky companion asked in amusement.

Marcaunon groaned and buried his face into the pillows, thus missing his servant's amused expression as it exchanged looks with one of the butterflies surrounding his enclosed bed.

---

September 1956
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 2

The hall was filled with curious chatter and scandalizing rumors as the students wondered why Professor Dunderdoom was seated in Headmaster Dippet's throne-like chair. One even said that Dumplingboar had poisoned Dippet just so he could take over Hogwarts. That amused him so much that he couldn't hold back a snort. His Housemates gave him a weird look since he was always elegant and calm, but the rumor was almost spot on!

Marcaunon himself was bored as he waited for the sorting to finish. He was hungry and tired. His bad mood was sensed by the sensitive Puffs and for once, he was grateful when they do not try and engage him in conversations.

Albus with-too-many-middle-name Dumbledore stood up from his seat and the hall fell into silence. He coughed to clear his throat and put his –Marcaunon's actually– wand on his throat. Another mental task has been noted down: take back his Hallows.

"Welcome newcomers and welcome back old ones to Hogwarts! Before we begin, I have a few announcements to make. Armando Dippet had recently passed onto his next great adventure. Let us all give him a moment of silence."

The staff and students both lower their heads in respect.

"A great man, he was... I have been selected to be the new Headmaster of Hogwarts, whilst Professor Veridian shall be the Deputy Headmaster. And also, please welcome the new Transfiguration Professor, Minerva McGonagall. She will also be Gryffindor's Head of the House."

A very young looking Professor McGonagall stood up and bowed whilst the students welcomed her with their applause. The newly named Headmaster swept his arms and silence reigned once more.

"Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are; Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you." The senile old fart sat down and the tables were filled with food.

Marcaunon bemoaned how his future years would be filled with those exact same words every term and grimaced from behind his cup of pumpkin juice –even pumpkin juice is getting old. He should really create a volume reducer spell… Or perhaps a spell that mutes everything –turn themselves deaf.

"Did Dumbledore short-circuited his brain?"

"No… The better question is… Is he mad?"

"Mad? Yes, perhaps he is a little bit mad. Pass the salt would you, Marc?"

"A mad genius would be a better saying."

He passed the salt to his housemate and snorted. One can never underestimate the gossip mill at Hogwarts. Dundiedoo would be rumored to be insane by the end of the feast.

"Rumor's saying that he got his head hit by a bludger and became senile." Does Dumbles even play Quidditch…?

After the feast, they made their way to their respective dorms and began their duty of unpacking. As usual, he warded his bed as if it were a fort and closed his curtains before tossing a black mamba onto his pillows, whilst the butterflies on his person flutter and landed on the drapes.

It hissed a few words of complaint but didn't protest to the rough treatment; It was already used to Its Master's tough love. He stretched himself and yawned.

"Good night Death, my Sinners."

OOOO

The common room was noisy as usual as the Badgers chattered excitedly about the Quidditch tryouts. He remembered being a seeker once and to be truthful, he preferred flying without the aid of brooms.

He thought back to the time where he was forced to learn how to fly when he was thrown off a cliff by those blasted Parasites. Not to mention how they wrapped his hands, arms and legs together with chains –he couldn't even move a finger! His sight was blindfolded and he was gagged, not forgetting that they used some sort of neck restrains to deny neck movement. It was cruel and he suffered from constant nightmares due to their treatment.

At first he had done so on accident when he felt his life on the line, and he was all but stubborn. It took him a few months before he decided to throw himself off a cliff thinking that if he wanted to live, he better fly.

And fly he did.

He never wanted to repeat such training ever again. He had almost flattened himself since his magic didn't react until he was but a few feet from getting his innards splattered all over the rocks.

That moment where your life flashed through your eyes was the scariest thing in the world, he had to admit. It was such an eye opener that he was almost tempted to create his own Horcrux. Almost.

The scarlet eyed almost-teen snorted at his train of thought and repressed a shudder.

"Hey Marc! Let's go to the tryouts!" Davies yelled from across the room. Most of the Puffs turned towards him with twinkling eyes and he felt the need to bolt out of the room.

"I'm not really a fan of Quidditch…" Or flying on brooms.

"Oh come on! You'll love it! Promise!" A random senior said with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, you need some exercise and sun anyway. You're way too skinny and pale."

Before he could deny the need to straddle a piece of wood, Edeson and McQuillen appeared and dragged him towards the exit. He protested half-heartedly and sighed in resignation when Walker appeared from behind just to confiscate his study material.

He sometimes wished that they know the real him. They would not even dare to touch him. Ugh cooties!

The group of Badgers that wanted to tryout made their way towards the field. The quidditch team was already waiting for them.

They were separated into which position they were trying by the captain. The group of wannabe seekers was the first to be called out. They were all given identical brooms and asked to catch one of the five snitches that were already flying throughout the field.

After that the five will be having a showdown for the fastest to be chosen and selected.

Marcaunon relaxed against the bleachers as he waited for his group to be called. Most of his second year mates were devastated when he announced not wanting to play seeker. If he would be forced to participate in the sport, he would have the right to choose the position he wanted. And he wanted the position that could hurt others in the name of sport.

Majority of the Puffs do not have the guts to hit another player with bludgers and that was one of the main reasons as to why they kept losing the Quidditch Cup to the other houses –especially the Slytherins. Snakes are ruthless.

He would paint the field with their opponent's blood, innards and brains. Not that the Puffs would know that it was intentional of course. He needed a physical outlet to vent his frustrations without his housemates thinking that he was violent. Once again, it's all in the name of sport.

After the seeker was chosen, a petite third year boy whose name he had missed, his group was called and his party of eight wished him good luck –not that he needed it. He mounted one of the brooms and was passed a wooden bat that was enchanted to not break upon constant contact.

He never really paid much attention to how a Beater would be chosen before, so he listened carefully and went into position. He would have to try and aim for the cardboard players and defend his team against any stray bludger.

He flew through the air and twirled the bat in his hand. The broom's speed isn't that bad and he could balance with one hand.

"Are you ready, Gaunt?" The captain shouted from below.

"Yess…" He drawled, removed his spectacles for a much better vision and narrowed his scarlet eyes.

He was oblivious of his Housemate's nerves upon seeing the color of his eyes, and continued to hit the bludgers that were shot from an enchanted shooting machine. It was similar to the Parasite version of a baseball pitching machine.

All the bludgers he hit knocked the cardboard players off their brooms and he never once missed when defending his team of cardboard mates. The captain whistled in appreciation at Marcaunon's batting skill.

If he was a Parasite, he would totally rule the baseball world.

After the machine stopped vomiting bludgers, he dived down without a second thought. He could hear shouting but ignored them in favor of feeling the cool air brushing against his reddened cheeks. He pulled up just as his broom brushed against the grass and exhaled softly. It had been so long since he flew.

He donned his spectacle and hopped off of his broom, only to be surrounded by the quidditch team members that were awed by his dive. The newly positioned seeker looked worried that he would be replaced and sent him glares every now and then.

"Merlin Marc! That was amazing!" The Abbott twins exclaimed with excited grins on their faces.

"Amazing!? It was insane! You could've broken your neck!" Sprout scolded as she placed her hands on her hip, frowning in disapproval.

"You have to admit it though, that was one bloody hell of a dive." Walker announced and hit him on the back playfully. "Nice going mate!"

"Want to try catching a snitch?" The captain said in a whisper, but they heard it all. The third year seeker's face was furious red and Marcaunon could practically see the smoke emitting from his ears.

He laughed it off and shrugged his shoulders.

After a few minutes of him giving non-answers, the captain announced that he still had another Beater position so they were quick to assemble. Marcaunon made his way to the bleachers and wished his party luck on their chosen positions.

The tryouts ended with only him being chosen from second year. His group congratulated him and stated that they would try again next year, which he gave a nod of approval. People who quit just because they lost once were better off not living.

Just as Marcaunon sat on one of the couches in the common room, a few older Puffs stood in front of him with determination in their eyes. He looked up at them in confusion.

"Can I help you?"

"We want to know if your eyes are really red." The leader said. "My father once told me that only wizards and witches that perform the darkest of the Dark Arts have red eyes."

"And we know that you're from a dark family, don't try to deny it! Only they name their children weirdly." Another spoke up.

Marcaunon arched a brow and chuckled in mirth. It was true that his eyes turned scarlet due to him playing around with Dark Magic, at its highest level that is. Soul and Death magic would of course change him. Luckily it didn't deform him into a snake man. He preferred having a full nose, thank you very much.

"It is indeed true. My eyes are red." The common room was silent as they listened to him. "But ever since my coming to this world, it has always been red."

"… So you were born with red eyes?" One of the older teens asked.

He smiled at her with a shrug, not agreeing or denying her question.

The Badgers convinced themselves that he was indeed born with red eyes and continued off where they left; chatting and playing exploding snap amongst themselves.

Marcaunon took out one of his tomes and started to read it absentmindedly. The Puffs were naïve and too trusting for his taste.

He remembered the words his former DADA Professor had once upon a time ingrained in him, quite literally he might add; I must not tell lies.

He was lucky that that Burdensome Jailer Dog had not forced him into writing 'I may not tell lies'.

Blood quills were usually used for unbreakable contracts, and have an instant effect once the writer's skin was permanently imprinted with a vow. If he were to mark himself with those damn words, he could never tell a single lie in his life, lest he wanted to become a Parasite.

It's too bad for her that his skin was burnt by acid and chemicals, resulting in him being scar free the next few weeks… Of course it ended when he was cut open once again.

His thoughts were pushed aside as a beautiful Summer Azure Butterfly landed on his arm and he gave it a small smile. He never noticed as some of the older teenagers blush at how cute his expression was.

---

1957
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 3

The soft almost non-existent sound of someone's bare feet was amplified throughout the corridors as Marcaunon walked towards the direction of the second-floor girls' lavatory. His housemates were hard to escape from and he only had time after curfew to place all the necessary charms inside Hogwarts. He's been doing for the past few months.

Once his map of Hogwarts is fully complete, he would make one for the Ministry, St. Mungo's, and Gringotts.

He suddenly thought about a song he used to sing when he was bored in his cottage-like fortress.

(A/N: I recommend going to Youtube listen to Cartoon Heroes whilst reading from this point!)

"We are what we're supposed to be…" He started singing whilst looking down at the newly made Marauders' Map, now simplified to Hogwarts' Blueprint.

"Illusions of your fantasy… All dots and lines that speak and say… what we do is what you wish to do~"

He drummed his finger on his thigh.

"We are the color symphony, we do the things you wanna see~ Frame by frame, to the extreme!"

He twirled around before he continued his walk.

"Our friends are so unreasonable~ They do the unpredictable… All dots and lines that speak and say… What we do is what you wish to do!"

He checked the map again when reaching a fork and turned right before holding his wand (11" Yew Phoenix feather) like a makeshift microphone.

"It's all an orchestra of strings… doin' unbelievable things… Frame by frame, to the extreme! One by one, we're makin' it FUN!"

He shouted the last word before slapping himself for being loud. He peeked at the map and sighed in relief when the patrolling Professors were not running towards him.

"We are the Cartoon Heroes… Oh oh ohhh~ We are the ones who're gonna. Last. Forever! We came out of a crazy mind oh oh ohhh~ And walked out on a piece of paper!"

He grinned and pointed his rolled up map upwards.

"Here comes Spiderman, arachnophobian~ Welcome to the toon town parteh! Here comes Superman, from never-neverland~ Welcome to the toon town parteh!"

He stopped at another intersection and peeked at his map before running left whilst still singing in his microphone.

"We learned to run at speed of light~ And to fall down from any height (here he jumped down from the top of the staircase to the bottom) It's true, but just remember that what we do is what you just can't do!"

He moved sneakily past a few non-sleeping portraits before skipping off.

"And all the worlds of craziness~ A bunch of stars that's chasing us~ Frame by frame, to the extreme! One by one, we're makin' it FUN!"

He posed at the last word with a peace sign beside his head and his tongue peeking out. It was a creepy cute pose that was often used by girls acting cute in a picture. He would be mortified if anyone saw him in such a pose, but he was enjoying himself too much to care.

It had been a long time since he felt so carefree.

"We are the Cartoon Heroes oh oh ohhh~ We are the ones who're gonna. Last. Forever! We came out of a crazy mind oh oh ohh~ and walked out on a piece a paper!"

He ignored his map in favor of skipping past a few statues whilst pretending that they were his audience, and winked at the lot.

"Here comes Spiderman, arachnophobian! Welcome to the toon town parteh! Here comes Superman, from never-neverland! Welcome to the toon town PARTEH!~"

He paused and saunter with a solemn air.

"You think we're so mysterious… Don't take us all too serious... Be original… And remember that… what we do is what you just can't do…!"

He suddenly smirked and sang smugly.

"What we do is what you just can't do~ What we do is what you just can't do~ What we do is what you just can't do~ What we do is what you just can't do!"

He took a deep breathe in.

"We are the Cartoon heroes oh oh ohh! We are the ones who're gonna last. For. Ev. Er. ~ We came out of a crazy mind oh oh ohhh~ And walked out on a piece of paper!"

He unrolled his map.

"There's still more to come, and everyone will be…! Welcomed at the Toon… Town… Paaaaarrrt– Holy crap!"

His eyes widen in horror when he took notice of the patrolling Professors' names that were right behind of him. He ever so slowly turned to them in a rusty robotic kind of way and saw that most of them were hiding their laughter behind their hand.

How long have they been following him!?

"Mr. Gaunt… As interesting as it is to watch you … skip and pull poses along the corridors, it is past curfew…" Professor McGonagall stated with a stern face. It was betrayed by the mirth in her eyes.

Marcaunon blushed furiously and hid his burning face behind his hands. How mortifying!

---

December 1958
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 4

"Welcome! I've heard a lot about you from both Mia and Ave." Mrs. Abbott greeted as Marcaunon came out of the floo.

"Thank you for inviting me to your home, Mrs. Abbott." He smiled and kissed her knuckle as a greeting.

Her face flushed in embarrassment and he could guess that she was not used to Pureblood greetings. Perhaps she was a Mudblood that married the scion of the Abbott family?

"Please, call me Jane. Mrs. Abbott makes me sound old. Follow me; I'll bring you to their room."

He nodded and followed behind whilst memorizing the layout of the manor. It was not as big as Malfoy Manor, but it was a decent size for a Light Pureblood Family, unlike the Weasleys. That reminded him, he had always wanted to know what wards were holding the Burrow together and wondered if a crack in such wards would lead the house to collapse on itself.

He complimented on her manor and received a stuttered thank you in return. The twins really take after her, especially the way the three of them blush.

His musings were cut short when Mrs. Abbott knocked on a pink colored door. Not any type of pink, it was neon pink. He looked at her with a face that expressed 'am I supposed to go in there?'

She gave him an 'of course' look. He swallowed a lump in his throat and opened the door slowly, as if a creature would jump on him if he were to startle the inhabitants of said room.

He was suddenly reminded of playing a game called Ju-on before. Every single time he opened a bloody door, a bloody hand would bloody grab him and make him scream bloody murder. Yes, there were a lot of bloody spouting from his mouth when he played that game.

Just as the door was almost fully opened, a hand shot from the shadows and grabbed his wrist tightly. He gave a girlish scream –that would be denied in the future– of bloody murder and started shaking his wrist fiercely whilst shouting for a knife to cut said wrist off, much to Mrs. Abbott's horror.

"Marc! Marcaunon! Relax, it's just me!" Mia was quick to reassure the hysteric scarlet eyed teen.

Marcaunon swore that his soul had almost left his body in fright.

"Hey… Who knew Marc was such a scaredy-cat!" Hill laughed whilst Ave patted Marcaunon's back in comfort.

He would not be frightened if he didn't think about that wretched game in the first place! All thanks to the bloody neon pink door! Who colors their door pink anyway!? If he one day becomes the Minister, he would force everyone to use a sliding door that can only be opened by a wand.

"Ok that's enough from you guys! Can't you see he's already pale enough as it is!?" Sprout scolded them.

Just four years in Hogwarts and he had already changed so much. He was growing soft in his old age. At least he knew that he won't lash out and slice a person in half if they were to attempt to sneak behind him.

"Fine fine. Sorry 'bout that. You're usually calm, and it was hard to see you lose your cool. It isn't an excuse to keep on scaring you… But who knew you were afraid of Ghosts! I mean, Hogwarts is full of 'em!" Hill exclaimed.

"…I played a horror game once. Other than the spirit grabbing your wrist at random times when you open a door, it crawled on floors and walls as well." Marcaunon murmured softly. He sat in between the twins… Just in case.

"That does sound scary…" McQuillen squeaked. "W-What's the title of the game?"

Ju bloody On.

"I can't remember. I only played it once."

He really was growing soft! Bloody horror games and their jump scares. Now he'll have a hard time opening doors manually when in Hogwarts. The Castle already has the creepy feel to it at night… Now how was he supposed to take his nighty stroll alone!? Screw that, he would be avoiding the Chamber of Secret's entrance! Who knows what could crawl up such a tunnel… Add in shudder here.

---

1959
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 4 (going 15 years old)

He was drinking his beloved cocoa whilst savoring its sweet taste when he was unceremoniously shoved out of his seat. This led to how his fingers slackening, his hand unclenching, and his wrist bent in an abnormal angle upon impact. The easier way to describe the outcome from such an unfortunate accident was that he spilled his beloved drink all over himself whilst sustaining a broken wrist.

"Ah.." A voice behind him spoke in surprise. "Errr, are you ok? I-it wasn't on purpose, honest!"

Marcaunon slowly stood up from the floor to turn at the speaker. Said speaker was a Gryffindor –judging by the tie– student, looking to be around his physical age. He arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly to his wrist and spilled drink.

"I-I'll pay for your drink! Is… Is it broken?" The boy stuttered out as he fumbled around for his money pouch.

"It's fine. May I ask how you could accidently push a person that was sitting –on a wide and long bench– in a very vast and secluded area?" He questioned slowly as he tried to smile politely. Tried was the keyword. He probably looked constipated and on the verge of committing homicide.

"Uhm.. uhh… You see.. Uhm my friends… and I wanted to … err we were wondering if you wanted to join us?" He laughed awkwardly whilst rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. His face was crimson as he stared at Marcaunon.

It gave him the shivers.

He resisted the urge to throttle the boy. Hogwarts does not supply their students with cocoa and he could only damn well enjoy sipping his beloved drink at Hogsmeade on weekends. ONLY.

"I would love to" The boy perked up. "but I should go visit Madam Isabell to get my bone fixed." He deflated.

"Ah… I'm sorry! I-I was running at full speed and was unable to stop in time. Err… sorry!"

"No no. We all have our moments of clumsiness." Marcaunon waved it off. "I should be going."

"What about next week?"

"Forgive me, but my fellow Puffs and I have already agreed –"

"Then the week after?" The young Lion interrupted with an eager face.

"Do. Not. Interrupt. Me. Again." He empathized each word with an increase of Magic Pressure.

The young Lion looked ready to pass out, but squared his shoulders and showed his bravery –stupidity– by opening his mouth yet again.

"Sorry mate! We Gryffindors just talk this way. Hahahaha…" He was not his MATE!

"It's fine. My wrist is beginning to hurt real badly… So if you'll excuse me…" He swiftly made a beeline towards an empty alleyway and disapparated to another alleyway.

He ranted in his head for a good five minutes before he snapped his bone back in place and vanish the chocolate mess on his robe. Just as he was about to disapparate again, he was stopped by a hand that tightened on his forearm.

He turned to give the person a good tongue lashing, but startled in surprise.

"…What are you doing in a place like this, Death?" He hissed softly at the cloaked figure.

"Isn't this a good opportunity to bring Him into this world?" It released his arm but remained in his personal space. Death had no idea of it by the way. It would usually step into people's personal bubble and act as if it's the norm.

"W-what? Are you crazy!? I'm fifteen for Merlin's sake." He removed his spectacle and proceeded to rub the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He just wanted to drink his favorite drink in peace, was that so hard?

Death ignored him and snapped Its fingers. His school robe was replaced by an elegant dark red robe with black lining whilst his not-shoes were changed into proper covered shoes, much to his chagrin. The changes led to his butterflies fluttering away.

"What the bloody hell are you doing…?" He gritted out slowly.

"The pub's just up ahead." It stated and pushed its Master out into the open.

Marcaunon looked up towards the sign; Drinkzard. What kind of name is that? These wizards have no idea how to name their stores, or books, or schools, or… anything actually.

He sighed and was just about to place his spectacles back in place when it was snatched by Death's long digits. It gave him that bloody 'This-spectacles-is-ugly' Look which he bristled at, highly insulted. He sighed –he's been doing that a lot recently– once more and walked into the pub with his head held high.

Most of the occupants were purebloods by the looks of it. He scanned his surroundings and made his way towards one of the open stools.

"What can I get for you, sir?" The barman asked politely.

"Swott Malt and coke, single tall." The barman lifted an elegant brow but went to prepare his drink.

He leaned against the counter and clenched his wand subtly. Just as he was about to search for a strong wizard, a man with messy brown hair and hazel eyes sat beside him. He was well-build and looked to be around his early thirties, but with wizards it was hard to confirm. They do age slower than Parasites.

The man ordered a glass of firewhisky and turned to Marcaunon.

"You look rather young to be drinking." The man spoke with a deep baritone.

Marcaunon arched a brow and took a sip of his drink before he deemed it long enough to reply.

"A wizard's appearance doesn't match their true age sometimes." He purred out.

"Good genes and magic you are blessed with." The man took a sip before he continued. "May I ask for your name?"

"Is it not customary here to introduce one's self while inquiring the identity of another?"

The man chuckled and smiled seductively at Marcaunon.

"Forgive my mannerism. Call me Charlie."

"A pleasure I'm sure. And you may call me Markos." Charlie took Marcaunon hand before lightly kissing his knuckles.

"A… pleasure indeed." He gave Marcaunon a loop-side grin but didn't release his hand. "Do you come here often?"

He smiled back politely and attempted to retrieve said hand from the man. It didn't budge. Cooties!

"No. I have only heard of this place. They say it has a lot of entertainment value."

"Indeed it has. I myself come here often for such."

"Oh? And what sort of entertainment do you… appreciate?"

Charlie swirled his drink around and took a sip.

"Would you care to find out?"

"Do you let anybody who comes here know?"

"Only the special ones." The man eyed his body. Marcaunon shivered in disgust but Charloe seemed to think it otherwise as he began to rub circles on Marcaunon's knuckle. He felt oddly violated and self-conscious.

Their conversation –one sided flirting– continued for another hour or so as Marcaunon drank at a constant pace. He was getting tired of the man's not-so-subtle hints. After returning to his beloved bed at Hogwarts, he was going to violently murder Death.

Charlie had waved to the barman, and received a key, before ushering him upstairs. The room was of moderate size, with a door leading towards the bathroom and a Queen sized bed. The room was colored Gryffindor style and he wondered if this room was especially for Charlie –he came to know that that man was a Gryffindor – or the rooms are normally decorated in blinding red and gold.

He excused himself and entered the bathroom. Death was unsurprisingly waiting for him inside.

"Good to know that my Master knows how to get a bed partner." It stated with a mock solemn air. "They grow up so fast."

"… Stop being absurdly sentimental... I don't think I can do this." He leaned against the door and covered his face with his hands.

"You can, Master. You were once a Gryffindor yourself."

He shakily stood up with his servant's help.

"Death… The hat wanted me in Slytherin…"

"Well, you ended up in Gryffindor anyway. So gather up your scattered bravery and fight on."

He gave Death a weird out look and started to shake rather violently.

"Death?"

"Yes Master?"

"The ground's shaking."

"The ground is perfectly stable, unlike your legs."

"I can't do it! This is too much! I feel… no, I am going to faint! This is overly repulsive! I'm gunna puke…"

"Pull yourself together, my Master, this experience does not need to be a repeated occurrence." Death's voice was surprisingly soft as it spoke.

"You are not the one getting someone's filthy meat-stick shove up your arse, Death!" He almost shouted hysterically at the omnipotent being. He covered his eyes with the heel of his hands in anguish. "I have never attempted to find pleasure in anything sexually related… after what had happened in the labs."

So much for keeping it cool. He had not had any sexual contact for decades. Those scientists had made sure of that. Even his hand was not well acquainted with his member. Even thinking about getting penetrated made him shiver in fear.

"If a mortal's sex organ does penetrate my current body, the object in question would drop off –quite literally– but if you insist that I bend over and–"

"No, it's fine! I do not want or bloody need to have that image in my mind, thank you very much."

Death sighed and shook its head.

"If you are quite finish, I have much work to be done. Mortals won't stop dying just because I am taking a short break. If you'll excuse me, Master…"

"Y-you're leaving!? You can't leave me here alone!" Marcaunon grabbed Death's sleeve; like a child who wanted their parents to stay.

"On the contraire, I do not wish to … be a spectator of your bedding."

"You don't have to be so… crude. Forget it."

There was a silence before Death released a somewhat inpatient sound from its throat.

"Well?"

"Uhm… It's… Just that…"

"Yes?"

"He won't cut open my pelvic area up just to squeeze my rectum to him feel more pleasure will he?" He blurted out. "Or cut off both my arms so I could do nothing but watch as he forces metals and unidentified objects inside me will he? Or –"

"No Master. The person outside… He is not Them. He won't do anything but impregnate you."

"Then… I will feel… good?" Marcaunon hated how meek he sounded.

"It depends on your partner's skill –or lack thereof."

"On my partner? I thought you've never…"

"Of course I have, just not in this body, but I digress–"

"Now you've peaked my curiosity."

"You will experience pleasure or pain all by depending on your partner's knowledge, past experience, age, and perhaps size." It continued like it didn't get interrupted by its Master.

"I beg your pardon?" He blinked.

"For example, the person you chose as your partner is somewhat young and supposedly –actually– straight."

"You won't know that for sure…"

"In fact, I do know the man waiting for you is straight. You're the first man he'll have intercourse with. Anyway, there's a high probability that it will bring slight discomfort."

"Perhaps I should wait for another–"

"You've had worst."

"I know alright! But I'm only reaching fifteen! Underage person right here!"

"Technically you're 177, but never you mind, my Master. Sooner or later you will have to face your fears. Not all at once, but one at a time."

"Why do I have to be the one to carry the fetus anyway!?" Being the one who fucks is better than being fucked. Even though he had never had the chance of burying his member into anyone, he would guess that being the one who does is better than being done.

Wait… Does that mean he's considered a virgin if he's straight?

"We have already gone through this before, Master." It started to sound exasperated.

"Then please explain it to me once more because everything has fled my mind."

"… The reason as to why you will need to be the carrier is because after the body is prepared, you will be the one to put the soul into said body. Since a piece of the same soul has been with you for seventeen years, it would trust you to put it inside a body made from your very own flesh and blood."

"I seriously doubt it, but fine! You have to stay with me and give me moral support though!"

"As I previously said, I do not wish to witness my Master's supposedly making of my future godson."

It turned around and disappeared without another word or sound.

"Traitor!" He cried out and ranted for a few minutes before remembering that the man outside had already waited for at least fifteen minutes.

"Nothing left but to do it… Perhaps I could demand –read; beg– Death to obliviate me of this unpleasant experience afterwards."

He stepped into the room and was surprised to see that Charlie was standing in a daze. Death must've known that he would be hysterical and needed time to prepare. What a good servant It is!

Charlie soon snapped out from the state he was previously in and leered at him. He gave a strained smile in return.

He was soon pulled towards a firm chest and kissed on the mouth roughly. Marcaunon resisted the urge to gag and opened his mouth to allow entrance into his cavern. Whilst the tongue eagerly mapped his mouth, Charlie had pushed him backwards and he bounced onto the bed.

A body was soon on top of him and hands began roaming his and he shuddered in disgust, which earned a needy thrust from the man above him. Marcaunon could feel the hazel eyed man's hard covered length against his thigh and clenched his fists in an effort to stop himself from throwing the body off of him.

At least Charlie wasn't into bondage.

The man withdraws his tongue and instead latched onto Marcaunon's neck. His skin was crawling and he moaned in distress. The hands were quick in stripping him bare of any clothing and he felt powerless; a feeling that he had not felt for a very long time.

The mouth soon travelled lower and sucked on one of his nipples. They were only hard due to the cold, unlike his limp manhood.

It was then pinched and pulled brutally and he arched at the uncomfortable sensation. The man above him shrugged off his robe and shirt before trailing down kisses until he arrived just above Marcaunon pelvic area.

Marcaunon startled in surprise when he was turned onto his stomach, and forced to bare his arse in the air. It was a mortifying pose and he trembled in shame –which was mistaken for excitement on Charlie's part.

His buttcheeks were kneaded and his legs spread apart. He allowed this action to take place and buried his face into a pillow that was conveniently placed in front of him.

He knew that he was a sight to see and subtly placed a pillow underneath his hip to hide his flaccidness.

A finger was soon circling his entrance and he braced himself mentally for what was to come. The digit was at least covered in lubricant and he forced himself to remain relaxed, lest it would hurt more if he resisted. He learnt that the hard way.

The finger was pushed forward, passing the tight ring of muscles. It was joined by another, followed by another and soon they were stretching him. He could feel tears gathering and blinked. They rolled down his flushed cheeks and he moaned unexpectedly when a finger brushed against his prostate.

"You like that?" Charlie's voice was rough from lust.

He didn't deem it worthy of a reply and clenched his muscles when the bundle of nerves was pushed again. He felt himself growing hard, much to his mortification, and quickly bit his lip to stop any needy noises from being heard.

The man above him chuckled and muttered about him being cute before pulling his fingers out. A sound of belt un-buckling was heard before a hot and hard flesh was pressed onto his entrance. His grip on the pillows tightened.

Charlie entered his body slowly and his mouth opened into a silent scream. He felt fully stretched and his breathe came out as short pants. The man behind him groaned in satisfaction and moved without waiting for Marcaunon to adjust.

His thrusts were forcefully hard, going deep and fast. Marcaunon felt his insides were on fire. Didn't Death say he would feel good!?

Just as suddenly, he cried out when his prostrate was pressed on.

"Ahh..!" It was painful yet his body was trembling with pleasure. He was confused and frustrated. His body's reaction was unexpected and he lay there panting with need.

The brutal pace was continued and the man groaned together with him.

The feeling of repulsion could be identified from the back of his mind and he was brought back to how the scientist would jeer and call him names when his body reacted to such an act back then.

He had always shied from human contact, and now he was even going as far as to lay naked underneath a stranger just so he could create a child. It was just his luck that his body was experimented on and made into something that could get impregnate, even though he was male.

The pace was getting faster and some of his saliva had leaked out of his mouth when he mewled and whimper.

"You like that? You little slut…" The man whispered and licked the shell of his ear. "M-moan louder… for me… will you?" Each word was said with a hard thrust, and Marcaunon cried at the intense feeling building at his lower regions.

Charlie soon grabbed Marcaunon's manhood and began pumping it. Not long, he came at the double sensation and clamped on the dick inside of him, his back arching like a bow.

Charlie came inside and fell on top of him. They both lay panting in exhaustion. The man removed his limp member and Marcaunon grimaced at the feeling. His thighs felt sticky and uncomfortable, but he was too tired and resigned to move.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, just before he was turned onto his back. The hazel eyed man kissed him on his lips once more and before he knew it, he felt blackness invade his vision and fell into unconscious.

OOOO

Charlie recovered soon after and groaned in satisfaction when his muscles stretched in pleasure. He felt pleased, before remembering that he had made a reservation at a fine dining restaurant for his marriage anniversary with his wife.

He checked the time, cursed softly and began to fumble for his clothes.

The hazel eyed man looked towards his one night stand's features and couldn't help but stare entranced at the sight. The young man had a beautiful face, and he looked innocent when he was asleep. His body was petite, but covered with lean muscles. Charlie could estimate that the young man was around 165cm. Quite short for someone whom he assumed to be around mid-twenties.

His hair had spread out on the pillow like a halo, dark lashes brushing over flushed cheeks; from their earlier activity, and those irresistible soft lips that parted as the young man breath evenly. Not to forget how pale his bed partner's skin was. It was easy to put marks on his chest and neck.

There was an urge to kiss and continue ravaging his one night bedmate, but he resisted.

Charlie shook his head and groaned when he felt his member half-hardening in remembrance at being buried balls-deep within that delectable arse. He quickly donned on his attire and made sure there were no signs that could suspected him of committing fidelity.

He took out his wand and pointed it at the young man's head.

"You were a good lay, but my wife would kill me if she were to find out what happened between us. No hard feelings eh? Obliviate."

The man returned his wand into his holster and bent down to steal one last kiss (he couldn't resist!) from the young man before disappearing through the door.

OOOO

Marcaunon woke up at the feeling of his arse throbbing and he shuffled through his memories for an explanation. He bolted up, only to yelp and fall back down, when he remembered what had occurred in this very bed and groaned.

He closed his eyes and began creating an orb from the memory and noticed a foreign magic in his mind. He looked at it for a while and gritted his teeth in rage. The nerve of that man to try and obliviate him! He had mixed feelings about not losing his memories but continued to curse the man to hell and back.

He would keep this memory just to find the man and black mail him with it, if he has a family that is. Bloody jerk.

He expelled the foreign magic and continued his task of locking the memory away to the deepest part of his mind. After much intense concentration, he opened his eyes and noticed that his vision was blurred by tears.

Marcaunon didn't bother to hold them back and covered his mouth as a choked sobbed broke out. He felt disgusted with himself. He felt dirty and used. He felt like he had betrayed himself. Not wanting to make himself depressed, he changed his thought process (hooray for occlumency).

"… Wait a minute… How am I supposed to continue with school when I'm pregnant…?" The scarlet eyed teen grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled. How could he forget such an important detail!?

---

1959
Location: Wool's Orphanage
Year: 4 5

The familiar sound of an owl pecking a window was heard and a cocooned figure on top a bed groaned. A mop of messy black bed hair was first to appear before a face, followed by arms that threw the quilt off of him.

Marcaunon groaned once again when his vision was filled with bright rays of sunshine. It was too bloody early –for him– to wake up when he wasn't in school. He turned to glare at the owl and scowled when it continued to peck without mercy on his window glass. Mrs. Cole would throw a fit if it broke.

"Am commin' you damn bird." He mumbled venomously and crawled out of bed sluggishly.

He opened the window and untied the letter that was on the bird.

Mr. M. Gaunt
Room 27
Wool's Orphanage

There was a Hogwarts emblem on it and Marcaunon opened the envelope with care.

Dear Mr. Gaunt;

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to be one of the Fifth year Prefects for the House of Hufflepuff. Your school record shows that you have exhibited quick-thinking in stressful situations, the ability to lead others, and the hard-working quality that Hufflepuffs have long been lauded for.

We are certain that you will continue to be a model for your peers and take your new responsibilities seriously. Enclosed please find your Prefect's badge, which should be worn on your school robes at all times. Congratulations.

Sincerely,
Herbert Beery
Head of Hufflepuff House

He turned the envelope around and a badge fell from within. His lips twitch upwards before pushing the owl out of his window. It hooted in protest but flew off anyway. It seemed that his tutoring and polite act did help him achieve something after all.

He rubbed his still growing baby bump and the fetus within him kicked at the rubbing hand. He smiled fondly and chuckled. Ever since he had place the soul inside, it had responded with kicks when he touched his baby bump.

It seemed that He was impatient with being stuck inside. Marcaunon kind of pitied Him for being conscious even though He had yet been born. Death had just waved it off as a miscalculation. He didn't trust words such as error or miscalculation or side effects from Death's mouth.

---

1960
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 5

He was the only one who sat in a relaxed manner in the Dining-turned-exam-hall. His party of eight were in front of him in rows, yet he could clearly see them sitting stiff back whilst sweating. The other houses that were seated in other rows were showing nervous habits such as nail biting or quill chewing. He shook his head softly and waited for the parchments to appear.

He subtly rubbed his hidden baby bump (covered by layers and layers upon layers of glamour) and hoped that Death would at least give him a back and feet rub afterwards. His bloody feet were killing him. How did Molly Weasley stand being pregnant seven times, he will never know.

His respect for women had tripled ever since his pregnancy. Hecate bless their souls.

One of the Wizarding Examinations Authority announced the beginning of the O. exam before the parchments magically appear –quite literally– on their desks. He sensed an anti-cheating spell all over his given quill, desk, chair, and parchments. Suspicious much…?

He read through the whole list of questions before writing the answers non-stop. He had learnt how to instant memorize the written information on parchments due to Death's huge stack of paperwork. An administrator spotted his non-stop writing and made her way to stand behind him to see if he was cheating in any way possible.

He ignored the worker and continued. He was done in ten minutes and placed his quill down. The worker looked at him with barely concealed amazement and he handed her his parchments. She looked through it as he made his way out of the hall.

Most of the Ravenclaws were in denial and he could see without even looking into their minds that they think he wrote random answers. He closed the doors behind him and made his way towards his dorm. Death will have to seriously rub his feet, it really was killing him.

The two weeks of continuous O. exams were finished in a similar fashion with him being done within ten minutes when they were tested on theory, whilst he practically breezed through practicals without a hitch.

OOOO

1960
Location: Wool's Orphanage
Year: 5 6

Once again, he was interrupted by the familiar sound of an owl's beak pecking glass. His hormones were already messed up and he didn't hesitate to open the window and force the bird inside with his magic. It squawked in fright but he paid it no mind.

He untangled from his quilt and willed the letter over to him. Just as his letter reached his person, his magic lashed towards the bird. This resulted in an explosion of confetti…

The bird exploded like a balloon which led to its blood splattering across the walls, window, door, wardrobe and bed. Marcaunon himself was safe from the mess due to his magic shielding him. He cursed his untamable hormones that were affecting his magic and moods. Even Death had stayed far away from him when he had started sobbing or shouting at random moments.

Not to mention the bloody cravings. He had once demanded Death to bring him some cheese flavored ice-cream. It wasn't so bad if he didn't add in salmon and durian in it as well. He didn't even want to know how his taste buds had survived such a flavor and just enjoyed the taste.

He looked at the letter in his hand.

Mr. M. Gaunt
Room 27
Wool's Orphanage

He opened it with a scowl. Stupid letters keeps on reminding that he's still in a bloody orphanage. Bloody letter. Bloody school. Damn everything to hell.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS

Passing Grades:
Outstanding [O]
Exceeds Expectations [E]
Acceptable [A]

Failing Grades:
Poor [P]
Dreadful [D]
Troll [T]

Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt has achieved the following O. :

Ancient Runes – O
Arithmancy – O
Astronomy – O
Care of Magical Creatures – O
Charms – O
Defense Against the Dark Arts – O
Divination – Not Taken
Herbology – O
History of Magic – O
Muggle Studies – Not Taken
Potions – O
Transfiguration – O

Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin First class, Grand Sorc, Chf Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

He banished his O.W.L.S result inside his trunk and stretched. He was satisfied with his results and if he were to achieve lower, he would die of humiliation. Perhaps he should get some brunch… after cleaning up his room of course.

---

1st September 1960
Location: King Cross Station Platform 9¾
Year: 6

The day of finally getting out of that wretched orphanage has come. Marcaunon, with his miniature trunk inside his pocket, Death in Black Mamba form wrapped around his body underneath his robe, and butterflies inside his hair, made his way towards the Hogwarts Express.

He was trying his damned hardest to walk elegantly like usual, but his swollen ankles were giving him a hard time. It was oh so tempting to just waddle his way through the crowd, but he persisted. He wished that he could give birth in nine months, but alas male pregnancies take longer. His trick with floating a millimeter above ground doesn't work as his magic was being a bitch. If he were to cast Lumos, it would have probably blinded anyone near him. He would not risk himself getting blown away just because of swollen bloody ankles.

His respect for women had gone up so high. If he became Minister, he would make a rule about pregnant people being respected as gods.

It was lucky he came earlier than necessary. Most of the compartments were empty and he made his way towards the nearest. Just as he sat down –oh his ankles were crying in joy– the door slid open, and much to his exasperation; it was the former third year seeker –now seventh year captain.

"Gaunt." The captain scowled.

*"Snuggerud. To what do I owe this displeasure?" He drawled with a sneer. Unlike his other house mates, the captain was always suspicious of him.

"You're in the wrong compartment. This is mine."

"Perhaps you are the one mistaken. I do not see your name on the door or any of these seats."

"I have always sat here since first year. Do not think yourself as somebody important enough to steal another's compartment."

"It matters not to me if you were born in this very compartment itself."

Snuggerud glowered at him whilst Marcaunon remained his serene self. The captain took a menacing step forward but was stopped when they heard voices coming towards them.

"There there! I spotted Marc, guys!" He recognized the voice as his fellow year mate, Risa Edeson.

She made a beeline towards him with all her luggage glory. She pushed the captain out of the way and sat beside him with a grin. They were soon joined by his other year mates within Hufflepuff.

"What's Snuggerud doing here?" Walker questioned just as he sat down.

"No idea. He was just leaving, wasn't he?" Marcaunon smiled at said person.

Snuggerus glared hatefully at him before he left, but not before slamming the door close. They winced at the loud sound but ignored him nonetheless; used to his temper tantrums around Marcaunon.

"Guess what!? Promona got selected to be prefect." Mia cheered. Sprout blushed and thanked them when they offered her congratulations.

"I would bet a galleon that Marc's the male prefect for Hufflepuff." Her twin chirped.

They turned towards him and he nodded. They congratulated him and demanded to see his results. He took out his parchment and hand it towards Walker.

"W-w-w-what the! Merlin's beard!" Walker exclaimed.

"Hmm? What's wrong?" McQuillen asked in confusion.

Walker ignored the question and passed the parchment over. McQuillen's eyes widen in shock before the parchment was snatched by the twins. They gasp in surprise and soon his group had seen his results.

"How in Merlin's left testicles did you achieve 10 O's!?" The twins exclaimed in shock.

He shrugged his shoulders. It would be weird if a bushy know-it-all could achieve such a result and he could not.

They all exchanged results whilst he stared outside the window.

Sprout soon informed him that they were needed to sit in the prefect's compartment to be informed of their duties, and proceeded to drag him. His ankles were once again abused and he groaned at the feeling.

"Merlin Marc, did you gain weight?" The slightly plump teenager asked him as she continued to drag him.

"… You think I'm fat!?" He screeched. "I'm not fat! I'm a growing boy! This is muscles I tell you, muscles!"

Oh damn his hormones!

"Sorry, I'm just tired."

She looked at him in worry but accepted his pathetic reason of an excuse.

He would have to inform the Quidditch team that he would have to take the year off. How could he possible fly with his condition? It seem like the puffs would have to pull their own weight since he won't be there to knock the opponents down their brooms.

OOOO

Marcaunon wiggled and rolled around in bed, trying and failing to find a comfortable position. Finally after half an hour of turning, he gave up and padded towards the common room. He sat himself upon his favorite deep brown armchair near the fireplace and sighed to himself.

Lost in thoughts, he startled when a person sat on a chair opposite of him. They stared at one another (the teen with a smile) before Marcaunon decided to break the silence.

"Why are you not in bed?"

"Couldn't sleep. I thought relaxing in the common room would do me good. And you?" Marcaunon ignored the question in favor of scrutinizing the teen.

The teen has a healthy head of blond hair, just reaching his chin, with narrowed brown eyes. His aristocratic face belonged to the many pureblood children – high cheek bones, angular face, and straight nose. A good looking lad, but could never compare to the Malfoys or the Blacks.

Marcaunon quickly flipped his mental notebook for the senior's name, but could only come up with his family name. He was not proud to admit that he had forgotten due to the boy's unnoticed presence.

Deciding that it would be rude to stay silent any longer, Marcaunon gave a lazy and tired upward tilt of his lips. A barely there smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Just restless. I'm sure it'll pass. Would you like something to drink, Macmillan?"

The blonde tilted his head to the side in curiosity, but nodded with a confused grin.

"Warm milk…?"

"Whisper."

A pop could be heard, startling the senior. They both turned towards the House-elf.

"Will you fetch us both a glass of warm milk please?" Marcaunon asked politely.

The elf, Whisper, stared wide eye at the both of them –perhaps wondering why they were up at twilight but not daring to ask– whilst nodding fervently. She popped away for only a few seconds before returning with two glasses of milk. It floated to their respective hands.

"Is Young Master Marcaunon sir bes wanting anything else?"

"That will be all, thank you." The elf squeaked and blushed heavily under Marcaunon's bright smile of gratitude before popping away once more.

"We could call House Elves?" Macmillan whispered softly to himself in bewilderment.

"Technically no."

"Huh?" Marcaunon inward snorted. He calls himself a pureblood? At least say Pardon or something.

"You need to build a rapport before you could ask anything of them."

"Really? I never knew that."

"Most don't even know that it was House Elves whom made our food."

They both sipped their respective drinks as they continued to converse softly. Marcaunon's smile never dimming whilst the boy continued to beam as he talked rapidly. Not much later, Macmillan excused himself since he was getting tired. They both said their good nights and Marcaunon stared at the blonde's retreating silhouette.

"Whisper."

The unique sound of an elf popping was heard as she bowed to him and asked if he needed anything.

"Please bring me a jar of pickles, a bowl of melted chocolate, cheese, and chili sauce."

Whisper looked at him oddly but complied. He thanked her and dipped a pickle into each respective three bowls and ate with gusto. His cravings have really turned weird.

---

31st December 1960
Location: Dormus Mortem
Year: 6

Marcaunon sat in his favorite cushioned throne that looked quite similar to the Game of Throne. He had this throne made into an exact replica actually. He hummed to himself as he signed yet another parchment inside the Deathfile.

Paperwork was going to be the death of him. Just as he thought about the ways to torture his servant, he stiffened at the feeling of his abdomen muscles contract and water bag burst. He felt his thighs and legs downed in water and the pain was quick to make him grimace.

As he held out a finger, one of his butterflies landed on it and he whispered to it. It soon disappeared in a flicker of blue light.

He groaned and tried to stand up, only to fall back on his throne. A cold feeling passed through the room and within a second, Death appeared in all Its cloaked-like glory.

"Master, you called?" It bowed.

"Y-yess. I think I'm in labor."

"… We haven't thought about how to bring the baby out… Have we?"

"No you idiot! Are you that dumb!?" He gritted his teeth and counted backwards from ten to calm himself down. It wasn't Death's fault that his mood just went down the drain.

Death understood his concerns and shook Its head when Marcaunon shot him an apologetic look. It swept the smaller male into Its arms and glided towards their chamber. It placed Its Master onto the bed and helped Its Master to strip.

"We didn't … think this… through… did we?" Marcaunon panted as another wave of contraction came.

"I'm afraid not, Master. I'm not an expert in bringing life."

"Any of your minions … have experience… in childbirth?"

"… They are unable to reproduce."

"Fucking great!" He moaned in pain whilst shooting Death another death glare. "Do something! It bloody hurts! Oh god! How do women do this!? Madness I tell you."

Death covered Its Master with some blankets before disappearing. The butterflies surrounding the bed were fluttering their wings in an almost nervous gesture as they waited for Death to reappear.

Not another moment had passed before Death appeared with a freaked out healer under Its arm.

Marcaunon groaned and covered his face. He was sweating and he wanted the bloody baby out of him. "I don't care anymore! Get it out already!"

The healer took notice of the large baby bump and struggled to get herself free from Death's grip. She had forgotten that she had been kidnapped and ran towards Marcaunon. A true healer.

"W-what..? I've never heard of a male being pregnant before!" The healer cried in shock, but was quick to pull her wand out to cast some diagnosis spell on him.

She took out a trunk from within her robe and brought out the required equipment and potions in case she would need to cut him open.

"Argh! Dammit… Please be patient you damn baby…" He cried out as another contraction hit him. "Fucking demon I tell you! I'll kill him once he's out! Ah!"

Death was soon by his other side and held his hand inside Its much bigger one. It wiped the sweat that was accumulating at Marcaunon's forehead whilst the healer tried to figure out how to get the baby out without endangering the mother's (or father's) life.

"Well?" Death questioned when It felt Its Master squeeze Its hand tightly.

"I-I… I have to cut him open. There's no way out since he doesn't have a vagina–"

She was interrupted as he shouted.

"Do it then! Just hurry the fuck up!" A nearby lamp has burst when his magic lashed out, much to the healer's horror. She knew that only strong mothers could use or produce accidental magic when they were in the process of giving birth. She idly wondered if the cloaked male was the patient's husband.

"M-may I ask how old you are?" She asked suddenly when she paused at his face. He groaned and glared at her.

She startled back when she saw how his eyes glowed bright crimson in anger.

"Are you seriously intending to delay getting this devil out just to ask me my bloody age…?" Marcaunon gritted out in barely contain rage.

"O-of course not, s-sir! I'll have to put you to sleep–"

"No. You may numb the area where you will be cutting." He interrupted and prompted her to do as such as he scowled at the feeling of Him kicking to get out. Fucking impatient little shite.

The healer started shooting spell after spell and soon he could see himself being cut open. It took longer than he thought, but she was able to carefully bring the bloodied baby out of his body whilst ensuring that he did not bleed to his death –not that he would.

Soon the room was filled with soft gasping of breath as He struggled to clear his lungs. The healer examined the bundle in her arms and gave an odd sound from the back of her throat.

"Why isn't he crying…?" She whispered to herself, but everyone heard.

Marcaunon could see the babe trying hard to see through his blurry blue eyes.

He nodded towards Death and soon, Death's magic was casted to Him. The eyes were soon cleared and the babe took in the scene of Marcaunon getting his incision healed whilst Death murmured softly in Its Master's ear.

"There! All done… Now we have to inform and register–"

Death cut her off by knocking her out.

"At least do it after leaving the room." Marcaunon murmured softly as he held his son in his arms. The babe was looking around with wide eyes, as if not believing that he was indeed finally free.

"Forgive me, Master." It bowed in apology and Marcaunon had to resist the urge of rubbing his throbbing temples, lest he drop his son. "I have removed her memory of this experience."

One of the butterflies landed on the unconscious healer and both disappeared after a second.

"Forget it. Now then… Have you prepared all the necessary paperwork required for home-birth?"

The babe turned to look at his mother (or father) whilst Marcaunon spoke. He felt his little one's gaze and smiled at the small newborn in his arms.

"Hello there little one." He whispered softly. The babe gargled a greeting and he chuckled.

Was this how a mother felt for their child? Happiness, pride, protectiveness…? Marcaunon was afraid of damaging such a small being, and was slightly terrified of accidently breaking the little one's neck. His little boy was tiny, soft, pruney and pinkish… but he was perfect in Marcaunon's eyes.

"Yes Master. Everything is in your office."

"Good work. And write a letter to Hogwarts that I will be unable to attend for a week or so."

"Of course, Master."

"Now… How am I supposed to take care of my little one when I still have a year left of school?" He tilted his head and scowled. "Any of your minions know how to take care of newborns?"

"They are worse than I am, Master."

"… Merlin. I have no choice but to let you handle him huh…?." Marcaunon kissed his son's chubby cheeks. Morgana, he is just too cute with all those baby fat!

"Master's faith in me is duly noted."

"Oh hush you. Isn't Chaos beautiful?"

"Chaos…?"

"You can't expect me to call him by his full name, Marchosias, all the time would you?"

"Then why did you give him such a long name?" It deadpanned.

Marcaunon grinned. "Family tradition."

"Ah yes… To answer your previous question, he's wrinkly and weirdly colored."

Marcaunon stared drily at Death whilst the newly named Marchosias gargled and spat incoherent words at the unintentional insult he received.

---

March 1961
Location: Dormus Mortem

A few months has passed since Tom Marvolo Riddle, now known as Marchosias, was brought into this world. He much prefer his current name. He shivered as he remembered the time when he was stuck inside his mother's… father's… womb. It was dark, cramped and made him develop a major case of claustrophobia. Other than his newly named weakness, his parent was a cause of bewilderment. How did a male get pregnant anyway? Did a Severus invent a male pregnancy potion before he died?

He had first believed that his father was the cloaked figure on first glance, but he was sorely mistaken when the hooded male called his mother his Master. Was his mother a Dark Lord?

Did he become one after his –Voldemort– death?

Judging from his mother's young appearance and how he was still a Hogwarts student –since mother is currently in Hogwarts at the moment – Marchosias concluded that he was from the wedlock. He sincerely hoped that his current mother didn't dose his current father with love potions. He would have to kill them if that was the case.

He had yet known his family name (and middle), but he assumed that he was taking on his father's. The cloaked man's name was still unknown to him as well. He hated being clueless.

He was not really neglected, but the cloaked man was awkward with him. He had a lot of time to think of how he had actually come into this world. He remembered his years clearly until his demise (he still grimaced at the thought of it) from the hands of Potter brat, and still in denial at how someone so young could defeat him.

The thought of Potter brought out his anger and he was ashamed to say that he could not control the tears of rage. Damn baby body!

Perhaps he went through the process of being reincarnated, but since he was not a whole soul, he remembered his past life. Weird, but he was still in shock to come up with a proper theory.

After a few weeks, he became awfully confused over the date. He had seen the calendar when his mysterious caretaker had brought him into his mother's office when said caretaker wanted to do some paperwork whilst feeding him.

It was 1961. He wondered if he had travelled back in time or if he was in another dimension altogether. The theories were endless. He made a mental note to research alternate universes as well as Time Travel and groaned when he felt his stomach grumbling. Where was his caretaker anyway?

He heard the floo and assumed that his caretaker had returned from his daily trip to work. The door to his nursery was silently opened and his eyes focused on his mother's lithe form. He was dressed in his school robes, but what Marchosias wondered was the color of his tie indicated that he was from Hufflepuff. He knew that his mother didn't care about people in general since his first thought on solving a problem was to get rid of said problem. That means killing.

He was kind of glad that he's related to someone whom doesn't condemn on killing.

Marchosias had only known him for a week but was already fond of his –blood thirsty– mother.

"Ah. You're awake." And his mother always spoke to him as if he were talking to an adult. It made him wonder at times if he knew that Marchosias understood him. Also, the hissing accent of his mother made him wonder if Marcaunon knew parseltongue. It was highly arousing if he weren't in the body of a baby. "I couldn't find where your temporary caretaker is… So I assumed he took you out on a walk or something…"

He saw the air surrounding his mother rippled with power, much to his amazement. He always appreciates power. Judging by how much his mother has, he anticipated his new body to be just as powerful, if not more.

"But that dunderhead actually left my little boy alone. In a house full of strangers. Alone." What his mother didn't know was that he already knew that those so called strangers were Muggle prisoners brought by the cloaked man. He even had the pleasure of witnessing the cloaked figure dragging a muggle by a leash, very much like a dog.

The air cleared just as suddenly and he released a disappointed sigh. "Well never mind. Mort has always been awkward."

Mort? His caretaker was named after death? That was creepy even for him. He loathes death and would do anything to escape the concept entirely.

"I have the week off since its Holy Week. Perhaps I could tell you a story to pass time." His mother picked him up and cradled Marchosias to his chest. "Let's move to my office, little Chaos."

His nickname was something that he liked as well –excluding being called little. If he were to aim to become a Dark Lord once more, he would name himself Lord Chaos. Doesn't that just sound devious? But before that, he would have to find out if Lord Voldemort exists or if his birth was delayed. Oh and kill Harry Potter after that brat was born. This time he would strangle the child using Muggle means.

They made their way towards his mother's office and settled on a sword throne. It was amazing, with real made goblin swords framing said chair. Mort had always sat in this very seat together with him whilst doing a mountain of paperwork, so he had time to scrutinize the swords. He wondered what occupation his mother and caretaker are to be doing stacks of paperwork. Daily.

"Hmmm… How about mummy's school?" Actually, most people would let their children know how their parents met. Or who their other parent is.

"When Dumbiedork came to my orphanage at the year 1955, I was sceptic when he revealed himself as a Professor –I mean, who wears clothing that bright and mismatched? I thought that he had wanted to drag me into the looney bin. He explained and answered all my questions patiently, and I was excited by the prospect that Magic was real."

Yes he remembered when the Transfiguration professor came as well. Even if he loathes that old fool, he could respect the power Albus has.

If only Albus was not a Muggle-loving simpleton, with his merry band of Weasels. The family was massive and if you killed one, another would appear as a replacement. They're endless. Like cockroaches. Annoying insects.

"I fell in love with Hogwarts as soon as I lay eyes upon her. She was magnificent and I'm proud of calling her my first home." His mother gave an upward tilt of his lips in remembrance. "I'm sure you would love her as well.

Marchosias almost scowled when he saw Marcaunon smile. He would be sure to scare off any potential lovers that crowd his mother –oh he so love making grown men cry.

Marcaunon was his, and nobody could change that.

Again he questioned from which Dark Family he came from… He looked up at his mother and squinted his eyes. Perhaps he could see if there's any Black or Lestrange blood inside his mother –the two were rumored to be insane just like Marcaunon.

What he saw almost made him reel back in shock. His mother looked like a replica of his teenage self. He was sure that he was the last of the Gaunts, apart from his uncle in this year. Sure his mother had softer and a much more feminine touch to his features, but they could pass off as twins.

Perhaps this really was an alternate universe… He needed to find out their Family name! How he wished he could talk. But alas, he gargled in frustration. He hated being a baby. They were dependent and he was ashamed at having his diapers changed.

Once he grew older, he would definitely research and try to invent an enchanted diaper that could automatically remove body waste by itself.

"Are you hungry, little one? It is indeed past your lunch time…" Marcaunon rose from his seat and made his way towards the kitchen. "I am so going to hang Mort by his toes. Does he starve my son or what?"

Marchosias heard his mother's grumbling and snorted –still having a hard time controlling his outwardly body. His caretaker had never once missed his feeding or changing time. He was not sure if all mothers were like this, but he could make an exception for Marcaunon from his 'hate-all-humanity' list. And perhaps Mort as well, even if Marchosias hated that cloaked-bastard's name.

---

December 1961
Location: Dormus Mortem
Year: 7 (18 years old)

"Zero."

Marcaunon looked up from his paperwork as Death sauntered into his study with a curious looking Chaos in Its arms. His son had grown bigger whilst he was in Hogwarts. He wondered if Chaos had already started saying words.

He took note that Death was using the gloves that prevent him from rotting anything he touched… luckily.

Death had once lectured him on the reason as to why It had always remained in Its realm. Anything Death touched would literally rot or die within a few hours. To put the insanely long lectured into a brief summary, Death's flesh has too much "Death Magic" and it would either make cells grow older thus rotting them, or life force being drained. In theory, Death could take a person life force, and implant it into another if he so wish to. Of course It took no heed and was too lazy to test that out.

"Mm?" He grunted distractedly.

"A big, bloodied, zero." It repeated slowly.

" Hmm.." Marcaunon continued to sign the Deathfiles absentmindedly. It would be Chaos's birthday soon… What should he buy?

"Master!"

"Yess?" He arched a brow in question.

"What is this!?" It slammed a parchment in front of him and onto his documents.

He scanned the parchment and deadpanned at Death.

"My test."

"And pray tell WHY you scored ZERO for something as basic as this? Did the grey matter your call your brain finally lose all its cells!? Have your intelligence that you so boast about left you hanging!?" He noticed his son was looking at him with disapproving ruby eyes and he felt a twitch at his brow. At least this wasn't his N.E.W.T's!

"Of course not. I'm just too lazy to show my genius."

"… This is unacceptable, Master!"

"I am a busy person, Mort. With people dropping dead every minute my paperwork increases, thus resulting in my lack of sleep. How was I supposed to know that they were going to have a surprise mock test when I was dead to the world?" Yess he so love making death jokes.

"Then stop delaying the inevitable. The paperwork won't disappear just because you pretend it doesn't exist!"

"I'm not delaying it. Just prolonging..."

"That's the same thing, Master!"

Marcaunon sighed. He snatched his son from Death's arms and kissed the baby's frowning brow. His little Chaos was just too cute!

"Master… Even if you are too lazy to show your genius –as you so eloquently put it– you should at least make an effort to pass; even if it's minimal! A zero in Ancient Runes when you practically build wards based on them…"

"Actually, I'm more of a practical than theoretical kind of guy."

"…I will not have a Master that flunks his test due to paperwork. Manage your time properly!"

"Then perhaps you should stop delivering them to me when I am in school."

Death rubbed its temples and sighed in defeat. It turned and left, cloak billowing behind It in an eerily similar fashion to one of his previous Potion Professor. He would never admit to Death that he thought It cute for throwing such a tantrum. Perhaps he should try destroying the Deathfiles just to aggravate It.

He snorted and flicked his wrist to close the double doors of his study.

"I pity Mort for having to put up with me sometimes." He whispered under his breath, not noticing that the baby in his arms nod solemnly in agreement; ruby eyes filled with comprehension in Death's departing direction.

---

June 1962
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 7

The seventh years were all seated in the hall, the air much tenser than when they were taking their O.W.L's. Some were biting their quill as they try to recall the materials whilst others look extremely pale and ready to faint. Nobody made any sounds apart from the occasionally groans of frustration or gaging sounds; as if they were going to puke at any given moment.

Marcaunon hid a grin behind his hand. Whilst others were waiting for the administrators, he was thinking of home. This was the last paper before they could return to their families and he couldn't wait to hug his beloved son.

His little Chaos had said his first words, from what his butterflies had relayed. They denied him the knowledge of what exactly was his son's first word, but he was happy nonetheless. He hoped that it was Mama or something similar, but he squashed it down.

He knew that he was not always with his son due to school, and if Chaos was a normal baby, he would have already forgotten Marcaunon.

The double doors slammed open and most of the students flinch at how loud it was. The administrators strode in and began casting anti-cheating spells on them. He could taste how the air turned thicker with nerves.

A few more minutes passed in silence before an administrator flicked his wand and a parchment appeared on their table. That was their cue to begin and Marcaunon scanned through it.

The questions were indeed difficult for your average seventh year, but to him it was as if taking chocolate from a baby.

He grabbed his quill and began scribbling the answers in a fast pace. He wanted to see his son –and Death as well, but he won't admit that– as soon as possible. As usual, an administrator would stand behind him since he didn't look to be struggling, but breezing through as if he had an answer sheet next to him.

He placed his quill down and scanned through the parchment to check for any errors or mistakes. After he confirmed that the answers were all indeed correct, he handed it to the administrator behind him and stood up. Many heads turned towards him but he ignored them and sauntered out of the hall and towards his dorm.

It was time to grab his trunk and apparate back home.

-Line Break-

August 1962
Location: Dungeons underneath Dormus Mortem
Year: Graduated

"I want Ice cream." Marcaunon suddenly stated whilst he watched Death poke a few prisoners with Its scythe. In his arms was a toddler biting on a teething ring that was charmed to remain cool.

"I'm sure that your cravings have disappeared once that brat of yours has entered our lives." It replied without turning to look when said brat made a scoffing sound.

"I have not had Ice Cream in ages." Marcaunon turned to head towards the exit of the dungeon. The prisoners behind him begged to be released but they were ignored as per usual. Death trailed behind him after locking the dungeon doors. "Let's go to Florean's Parlor."

Death sighed and transformed into his black mamba form, much to Chaos's shock. They had never left the house since Marcaunon was busy with paperwork whilst Death was busy reaping. Death slid onto his Master's shoulders and rested its head atop of Chaos's.

The toddler didn't show signs of protest but petted the entity with his chubby fingers. Without warning or turning, Marcaunon apparated silently in mid-step, only to appear at Leaky Cauldron to continue walking as if it was a natural occurrence.

Many of the occupants in the pub stared at him in awed shock before changing to horror once they noticed a snake wrapped nicely around his shoulders and neck. A black mamba was easy to recognize and the species was indeed highly venomous, so he didn't blame them if the people around him took a step back to get out of range.

His rose-tinted glasses glinted in the sunlight as he emerged from the pub and into Diagon Alley. He waved his butterflies off and glided towards the direction of the much awaited ice cream parlor. Death was enjoying his son's petting and if a snake could purr, it would be purring like an engine in full blast.

"Excuse me!" He turned and raise a questioning brow at the stranger.

"May I help you?" The one that had called him looked familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen him before.

"Mar- Mr. Gaunt! I didn't know it was you. How are you doing these days?" The stranger knows him?

"Indeed it is. I'm doing good, and you?"

"Fine, fine. Just on duty you see."

"Duty? Ah you're an auror! You finally gotten your dream job eh?" Marcaunon faked a chuckle whilst the guy blushed.

"Y-you remembered!"

"Indeed. It was hard to forget." Now if only he remembered who exactly this person is.

"Haha… Yeah I used to shout it out loud back then in the halls."

"Is work treating you well enough?"

"Oh yes! What about you, Mr. Gaunt? I've heard from one of my friends working as a NEWTs administrator that you breezed through."

"Well, I'm still waiting for my results."

"Will you be working for the Ministry as well? The law department were buzzing at wanting you there."

"We shall see. I'm still unsure about what jobs to choose…"

"I would be happy to recommend you some!" The man grinned goofily whilst eyeing Marcaunon. "I could owl you."

"That would be much appreciated. Thank you."

"Oh no problem at all… anything for you…" He whispered out the last part.

"It's been a pleasure catching up, but if you'll excuse me, I have a prior engagement to attend to." Marcaunon smiled at him.

"Sure. Sorry for holding you up." The still man beamed at him.

The stranger soon waved and went back to patrol with his senior. Marcaunon turned and quickly made way towards his original destination. He shrugged it off as not important and entered the store upon arrival.

He missed the way Marchosias narrowed his eyes at the stranger.

OOOO

"What's got you so red faced, Sean?" The gruff Auror questioned his junior.

Said junior blushed harder, if that was even possible, before answering with a shy smile.

"I used to have a crush on him back when I was in Hogwarts. Majority of the students did."

"Judging by your face, you still do… Have you warned him?"

The older Auror raised a bushy brow. Wasn't school meant for study not romance?

"Huh? About?"

The answer made him face palm.

"… The snake. You were supposed to warn him about it being a danger to the public."

"AH! I forgot!"

"Clearly." The older stated drily.

OOOO

"Good day, sir. Flavor?" The young man behind the counter asked with a smile.

"It is a splendid day is it not? I would like a large bowl of chocolate and hazelnut please." Marcaunon turned to his son. "And you, young prince?"

The toddler removed his teething ring to reply.

"'ohee."

"A small bowl of coffee flavor ice cream please."

Before the young man could speak about coffee being too bitter for a toddler's taste, he placed the required amount of coins on the counter and strode towards one of the empty tables. He knew that his son hated sweet food with passion.

He fondly remembered how Chaos's nose scrunch up cutely when he took a sip of Marcaunon's cocoa. His brain decided not to remember how his cup of cocoa was overly sweet with more sugar than chocolate content.

"Oh! Mort do you want ice cream as well?" He whispered to the snake.

"No, but thank you for asking, Master." It replied and snuggled closer to him to gain warmth.

"I wonder… Little prince, do you understand me?"

The toddler nodded with wide eyes and started to make hissing noises as if to test if he could speak parseltongue in his young age (what Marcaunon didn't know was that Chaos had finally discovered why his mother's accent was so seductive and wanted such an accent himself, it would do good as a manipulating tool). Marcaunon chuckled at the attempts and looked up when an owl carrying a Ministry letter landed in front of him.

He untied the letter and the owl flew off without prompt. Just on time as two bowls of ice cream appeared on his table.

He placed his son onto a baby high chair next to him before setting down the smaller bowl with a plastic spoon onto the mini table that was connected to the chair. Chaos grabbed the spoon with his shaky fingers and concentrated on scooping some ice cream.

Marcaunon smiled fondly at the toddler's attempts of independence and opened the letter whilst still keeping an eye on his son.

Wizarding Examination Authority
Ministry of Magic, Educational Division
Jennifer Banks, Head Examiner

NASTILY EXHAUSTING WIZARDING TESTS

Pass Grades:
Outstanding [O]
Exceeds Expectations [E]
Acceptable [A]

Fail Grades:
Poor [P]
Dreadful [D]
Troll [T]

Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt has achieved the following N.E.W.T's:

Ancient Runes – O
Arithmancy – O
Alchemy – O
Care of Magical Creatures – O
Charms – O
Defense Against the Dark Arts – O
Herbology – O
History of Magic – O
Potions – O
Transfiguration – O

"How did you do?"

"Good." Marcaunon replied as he took a spoonful of ice cream in bliss.

---

A/N:

And finally we are finished with the back story of how Marc spent his childhood and Hogwarts years. Do take note that in this fic, male pregnancies are longer than female…. Ok fine, I mixed up the dates up and it turned twice as long, I was too lazy to fix it!

Marchosias is 'A great and mighty marquis of Hell, commanding thirty legions of demons'. I found it whilst browsing through demonology.

Hufflepuff Firsties:
-Promona Sprout (Female/Pureblood)
-Ave & Maria Abbott (Female/First-generation Pureblood)
-Suzzie McQuillen (Female/Pureblood)
-Risa Edeson (Female/Half-blood)
-Arnold Walker (Male/Muggle-born)
-Connor Hill (Male/Muggle-born)
-Christopher Davies (Male/Muggle-born)
-Marcaunon Gaunt (Male/Pureblood)
And yes, I noticed that the females are full of purebloods. Once I reread the first year, I was taken aback but was too lazy to change them. At least there is one Half-blood… Insert sweatdrop here.

When I was listening to songs on Youtube, I came across Aqua – Cartoon Heroes. It was such an old song and I remembered how I used to listen to this when I was in Primary school. Ah, the good old days! So no, I do not own the song Marcaunon was singing at his third year. Though I recommend reading said part whilst listening to the song!

Before I wrote about the Abbott Manor in Marcaunon's fourth year, I was watching PewDiePie play Ju-On (I wrote each year when I feel inspiration). It made me wary of opening doors to my room or … actually any doors. It took me a week to open the door normally, without turning the knob and backing a few steps away whilst waiting for said door to open (very slowly I might add). I know that his attitude is beginning to seem OOC, but fear not! Hogwarts is his home and he feels protected and safe when he's there. That's one of the reasons as to why he's somewhat soft. Let us not forget that he despise Muggles only, not wizards.

The sex scene was kind of rushed but I can't really have the imagination for it when Marcaunon's partner is … I don't want to spoil so I won't say a thing. But it creeps me out too much to make a better scene. So… Forgive me? ~(T-T)~ I promise to make a better sex scene between Voldie and Marc.

Family tree of Voldemort and Marc!
MaRvolo – MeRope – Tom MaRvolo
MaRkos – MaRbas – MaRcaunon – MaRchosias
Oh and MoRt is a honorary Gaunt in Marc's eyes.

If you guesses Marc's name correctly for Marcaunon S. Gaunt, you get a cookie! Seirios is actually Sirius, in honor of Harry's Godfather.

*Snuggerud is pronounced as snugger-rude (he used to be a pro hockey player!) by the way.

Thanks to all the people who reviewed/follow-ed/fav-ed! I don't mind being given advice and would be grateful if you would correct me if I was wrong.

Story recommendation for today: Surge de Hydra from Watermelonsmellinfellon. It's about Harry going into his creature inheritance (A Hydra) and learning what Tom fought for. TMR/HP pairing, included M-preg.

Rainbows and daisies,
GenderlessPerson