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
Disclaimer: If I were the author of Harry Potter, Dumblekins 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"
-Line Break-
Chapter 4: Unexpected Surprises
December 1963
Location: Hogsmeade
The streets of Hogsmeade were crowded as students from Hogwarts scuttle around, pulling their friends into shops and cafes. The atmosphere of the village was filled with bubbly laughter, sparkly smiles of happiness, and no doubt would be refreshing for Marcaunon… If not for his son's constant glaring. He was imitating a basilisk apparently. It was a good attempt since the boy was wearing a black serpent onesie –it took awhile to force him into said outfit, nevertheless Marcaunon was nothing but persistent.
"Little one, cease your death glares this instance. Lest I force my spectacles on you." He murmured under his breath whilst still keep up his smiling façade.
The effect was instantaneous. Marchosias narrowed eyes became wide with innocence as he thrust his pudgy fingers into his mouth. The display made the school girls coo at the sheer cuteness emitting from his little one.
Marcaunon could only sighed inward.
The reason for his son's petulant attitude? The boy hated going out without Mort –in serpent form– wrapped firmly around his shoulders. With his servant looking (and being) deadly, most would be smart enough stay clear of him. Plus majority of the Wizarding World is still frightened of slithery snakes in general, especially if one is highly venomous.
Death had refused to accompany them. It had things to do, or so It says. Marcaunon sometimes had a hard time trusting anything that comes out from Its mouth. Like that one time It said that Its face was all boney and full of maggots… Which was obviously false since he already saw what was underneath. If Marcaunon wasn't asexual, he would've jumped and ravished his servant the moment Its hood was down.
It seems that he was rambling in his thoughts. Perhaps it's a sign of insanity… He should get back on topic.
Marcaunon knew that his reputation as a friendly loveable Hufflepuff whom gives awesome advice (his friend's words) led to a lot of his juniors wanting to get to know him, even if it is just for a moment. And to keep up such an image; small talks and advices are required. Thus Marchosias's current sulky attitude.
Today's plan was to buy a cake for Marchosias (his birthday) and the boy was looking forward to his celebration –not that he outwardly showed it. Invitations were already sent, answers were received, and the only thing left is cake.
Most of the guests would be from Hufflepuff of course, including their family members. But thanks to his popularity brought by quidditch, he made a lot of minio– friends. A lot of friends from different Houses.
After graduating from Hogwarts, Marcaunon had moved entirely into a cottage at the border of Hogsmeade. The view of Hogwarts was splendid from his bed chambers, and he would usually find Marchosias sitting on the windowsill just gazing at the magnificent castle. Often than not, he would have to carry the physically small child back to bed. He may be cold and ruthless, but he was not heartless to forbid his own son from wanting to look at Hogwarts at night –the view is amazing and it was their first home back in their world.
The cottage was actually owned by Death since the very beginning of the village, but nobody needed to know that piece of information. Most of his members had questioned him as to why he named such a lovely cottage Dormus Mortem, The House of Death. He of course had just shrugged it off and told them the previous owner named it as such, which was true.
When he finally reached Honeydukes after making a tactical retreat –he did not run away– from the crowd with his son sitting comfortably on his hip, he let out a sigh of relief.
His nose twitched from the smell of sweetness and his sight was soon filled with shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. He could already feel himself salivating. This was Heaven for sweet-tooths like him.
"Mama?" Marchosias's cute high pitched hissing brought him out of his fantasies.
"Yess, little one?"
"Why awe we hewe?" Even though his son's mental age is that of an adult (old man), his tongue and vocal cords were still young, thus leading to his difficulty in pronouncing proper words. If Marcaunon was a lesser man, he would've squealed –or blanch from hearing Minimort talk like that.
"Well, mummy has to restock his supplies." His stocks had mysteriously vanished overnight. Death was the main suspect, but Marcaunon couldn't think of any reason as to why the being would steal his sugar.
His son looked at him with disapproving ruby eyes.
"Youw teeth will wot one of these days."
"And that's where magic comes in." He stuck his tongue out childishly whilst his son looked none too pleased at his behavior.
"Act youw age."
"I'm not good at imitating dust, but I'll try just for you, my dearest." He chuckled at his son whose nose scrunched up for a second before turning to look around nonchalantly.
Marcaunon made his way around the store, picking up bags of candies along the way to add into the bottomless cart provided at the front. Just as he was about to add in another bag of chocolate frogs, the sound of someone clearing their throat made him and his son look over his shoulder with identical brows raised in question.
"Marcaunon my boy! What a coincidence."
"Professor Dumbledore! Indeed it is. Are you here to restock your lemon drops, sir?" Marcaunon plastered a smile on his face and pressed his son's glaring ones into his shoulder.
Marchosias looked a little too much like mini-Tom Riddle, but with messy hair –Chaos was devastated when his hair stubbornly remained disorderly. He remembered howling with laughter at the look Marchosias sprouted, like it was the end of the world.
The old man's eyes zoomed towards his little Chaos.
"Indeed my sherbet lemons have all been used up! My, what a handsome young man! Your little brother?"
"Your addiction to lemons even exceeds my own to chocolate, Professor. And no, this is my son." This made the smile on the old man's face strained.
"Adoption?"
"We look too alike for adoption, Headmaster." And blood adoption is illegal by law –he wanted to shove a giant wand up the minister's arse for making such a rule.
"Isn't he a little too old…?"
Marcaunon stroked his son's hair in an almost rueful manner whilst warping his face into one of contrite, but not too much regret, and a tinge of happiness. It took him weeks (forcing himself to ignore Death's blunt comments) of looking into the mirror trying to perfect this expression.
"Indeed he is…"
The old man seemed to understand –what he did, Marcaunon didn't know– something and patted Marcaunon's shoulder in sympathy.
"If you are in need of any help, you can always come to me, dear child. My doors are always open."
"I could never intrude on you, Professor!"
"Of course not! And please call me Albus. You have already graduated, with the highest score at that!" The old man cheered.
"Yess, thank you Prof–Albus." He gave a grateful smile.
The meddler turned towards Marchosias and smiled brightly, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacle.
"May I ask for your name, young man?"
"What's youws?" The boy countered childishly. Marcaunon almost tsked at his cheek.
The man just chuckled and pinched the boy's cheek, much to said boy's chagrin.
"Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts."
"Mawchosias Gaunt, fouw yeaws old."
"It's nice to meet you, little one!" The headmaster cheered. The blue eyes scrutinized Marchosias and Marcaunon almost wanted to hide his boy. "You look adorable in that… outfit. A snake?"
"Yess. Papa bought it fow me."
Marcaunon grinned and flicked one of the stuffed fangs inside the hood. He couldn't resist the temptation of buying some animal hoodies and forcing his boy into them. It was perfect blackmail material for when Marchosias was older!
"Your papa has interesting taste." He turned towards Marcaunon and questioned. "What have you been up to these days, my dear boy? A ministry job?"
Marcaunon chuckled and shook his head softly, his feather-like raven hair fluttering around before settling down to frame his face.
"The year has been kind to me, but I am unemployed at the moment."
"Oh? An excellent student such as yourself is currently unemployed?" There was a note of curiosity in the meddler's voice. Marcaunon knew that he had scored the highest of his year and was awarded for it. Many have indeed owl him, especially the Ministry, to work for them.
"I have always been interested in Potions… and have entered a Potions' Guild to obtain my Potions' Master qualification certificate." He informed slowly and dropped the bag of chocolate frogs into his cart.
The old goat moved together with him and they stopped just as they reached the shabelot lemon candy container. Both Marcaunon and Dimpledick grabbed a few handfuls of lemon drops to add in their cart.
As much as he hated the old goat, he sometimes craved sour sweets whilst he worked on Deathfiles. Lemon drops is something that would not ruin his work if he were to accidently knock the bowl down.
"Which guild did you enter, my boy?"
"Cauldron Fever, sir."
"Hmm…" Dimpledog tugged on his beard in thought. "I heard much about them. They have indeed produced excellent Masters! Horace came from the very same guild as well."
"So I've heard. Professor Slughorn was the one who introduced me to the guild."
"I'm sure he did. How are you managing?"
They moved onto another shelf filled with all type of marshmallows and Marcaunon grabbed each one of them, much to the old man's amusement and Marchosias's distaste. Marchosias had regained control of his anger at the old man's company and did his best to acting shy around strangers.
"And perhaps you could recommend a Master –"
"Pardon me, Professor Dumbledore sir." The owner of Honeydukes interrupted the Headmaster. The old man looked irritated underneath his grandfatherly smile. Good! "Got a letter fer Marcaunon here."
Mr. Flume handed the letter with the guild's emblem (a dark blue cauldron surrounded by green fire) and walked back to the counter after Marcaunon thanked him. Both the Headmaster and he had a curious expression on their faces. Marcaunon looked at his son with an apologetic expression and turned towards the Headmaster.
"Forgive me Albus, but will you hold him for me?" Marchosias's ruby red eyes widen in horror and the look of betrayal on such a young face almost made Marcaunon broke out in laughter. Almost. No need to antagonize his little Chaos any further. And boy, he could hold a grudge.
The old goat was oblivious to Marchosias unease and was quick to agree with a wide smile on his wrinkly face, his love for children showing through his eyes. He handed his son –which was squirming to get free– over and carefully opened the letter.
P.M.A.A.T.
Grade 3
~Cauldron Fever's Insignia~
(Potions' Master Advanced Aptitude Test)
Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt
-.-.-.-.-
This is to certify that you have passed P.M.A.A.T. Grade 3 and have been awarded the classification of:
OUTSTANDING
-.-.-.-.-
You have passed the final and most difficult P.M.A.A.T. and are to be highly commended. Many of your fellow candidates were less than fortunate. Your new qualification will stand you in good stead should you wish to join any of the Wizarding World's Potions' Master positions. Congratulations.
Test taken on:
01/11/63
Member Identification Number:
M13-1-18-3
Jellal F. Frost
~Signature~
Cauldron Fever Guild Master
Marcaunon stared at it for a minute in shock whilst the old man and his son looked over his shoulder.
"Oh my! It only took you a year to complete all three tests? I commend you! Most would take years just to pass the first." The Headmaster exclaimed in surprise before he beamed at Marcaunon, joy and pride radiating from him. His eyes were twinkling like mad and Marcaunon hid a frown. It was suspicious.
Marchosias's eyes widen before they looked towards him with satisfaction, confidence and pride. Marcaunon snatched his son from the old man's winkled arms and hugged the child to his chest. His face broke into a grin and he twirled them both around.
"I did it!" He cheered and kissed his son's forehead in happiness, not minding that the other occupants of the store were staring strangely at them.
Marchosias giggled together with him. The proud boy would venomously deny it later though. His mood was broken when his shoulder was patted by a winkled hand, though he didn't show it. He smiled towards Dumiespore.
"Congratulations, my boy! That reminds me… Horace had asked that he retire early due to some unforeseen circumstances just the other day. I was on my way towards a Potions' Guild to find a replacement after restocking… but…" The blue twinkles in his eyes brightened. "Would you like to apply for the job of Potions' Master at Hogwarts?"
Marcaunon pretended to think for a moment and looked at the Headmaster insecurely.
"Sir… As much I would love to accept your job offer, I can't possibly leave my son to work at Hogwarts." He frowned and brushed a few strands from Marchosias's face.
"Fear not, my boy. I'm sure I could make an exception and allow both of you to live in the Castle."
Marcaunon schooled his face to one of surprise before smiling gratefully at the old man.
"Then… When will I have to drop by for an interview?"
"Are we not having an interview at this very moment?"
"Indeed…"
They both chuckled and continued to converse whilst Marcaunon resumed his candy dropping into his cart. After buying all almost all the candy in the store, they both paid for their purchases and head towards the cake shop.
Since the Headmaster's schedule was empty, he offered to accompany Marcaunon to the cake shop. Not having any reason to deny, he nodded and after a few more minutes of trying to find his way out, he gave up.
For a bloody Gryffindor, Dumbles sure knows how to slither his way into people's business. Marcaunon had no choice but to invite his employer to his son's birthday party, much to Marchosias's horror.
After reaching their little cottage, the Headmaster helped him finish his last minute decorations whilst they wait for the others to arrive. Marchosias continued to sulk and sauntered –very much like him– into the library to ignore the old man's presence.
The guests soon arrived and the Headmaster seemed surprised to see that there were not only Hufflepuffs invited, but Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin as well. Some of his guests brought their young ones with them, and were sent to play with Marchosias.
Marcaunon knew that his son always dreaded playtime (and playdates with other kids) but showed politeness that made the adults and graduates compliment on how his son was so much like his father. They thought that young Chaos would be sorted in Hufflepuff when he reached eleven, but Marcaunon knew otherwise. No matter what his son's name was currently, he would always have Tom Riddle's pride of being a Slytherin's decendant and is always ambitious beyond belief. Too ambitious and cunning for any other Houses.
Marcaunon would support whatever his son's decision would be, even if their plans for the future were different. He would try to improvise and formulate another if their ideas clash, no matter what. He knew that in the future, the current Tom Riddle –Lord Voldemort– would find out about him and his son.
He would not know if they would be captured or forced to join the Dark Lord or given permission to make their own decision, but they would never be left alone. Tom Riddle in his original world had always wanted another speaker to converse with –not that he openly admitted it, but since they had a mental connection it was quite obvious. That was one of the reasons as to why Voldemort always demanded Harry Potter to join him.
The thought almost made him grimace in distaste. He hoped that Voldemort won't feel his position as the Dark Lord being threatened. As much as he didn't want to kill Voldemort, he would be forced to if his son's life was threatened.
The party went by smoothly with Marchosias receiving a lot of presents. His son was looking at him with barely hidden disappointment when Marcaunon failed to present him a gift. Marcaunon hid a smile behind his cup of cocoa. No matter how much the boy acted irritated by his childish behavior, Marcaunon knew that he cares.
The day finally turned to night and soon, their guests had left. He turned towards his son.
"Happy Birthday, love." He swept his little boy into his arms and kissed both of Marchosias's chubby cheeks.
"Thank you, Mama."
"Happy Birthday, young Lord."Death appeared suddenly, making said birthday boy jump in surprise.
"Young Lord? Well, he certainly acts like a one." Marcaunon chuckled whilst his boy glared at him in annoyance (Marchosias fumed, he was not spoilt).
"Thank you, Mowt. Whewe have you been?"
"Here and there. I brought you a gift." Death took out a wrapped box from within its cloak and placed them into Marchosias's palm. It exited the living room, but not before hearing Its godson's soft expression of gratitude.
"Open it open it! Mort has always brought interesting things back home." Marcaunon demanded childishly.
His son rolled his eyes but complied. Inside was a beautifully crafted silver pocket watch with ruby stones forming a triangle, circle and a straight vertical line in the middle behind. It was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. Marchosias's chubby digits traced the symbol with feather like touches and looked at him in askance.
"What does this mean? This symbol..?"
"It's Mort's mark... I can sense layers of protection spells placed there, so it would be wise to have it on your person at all times."
Marchosias slipped the watch into one of his inner pockets. Marcaunon had to wonder if onesies came with pockets.
"Mowt's symbol?"
"Yess, Mort's.
"His family's?"
Marcaunon gave his son a mysterious smile and stood up.
"Here's my gift to you." He handed a box to his son. It was opened without prompt.
On the inside was an onyx pendant held by a silver dragon claw. There were squiggly lines engraved on the stone and Marchosias looked towards him for an explanation. Marcaunon chuckled.
"The protection runes are written in Parselrunes." He explained in his lecture voice. "When we speak in Parseltongue and imbue magic into our words, they become Parselmagic. From this concept, I thought that if we could invoke magic just by using words, why not write them? Unlike normal Parselscripts that could be used as coded messages to other Speakers, Parselrunes are meant for creating wards, runes and charms. When you're older, I'll bring you to see the Ward Stones protecting this cottage. Perhaps you could understand better with practical rather than theory."
Marchosias scowled and Marcaunon just knew that his boy was thinking about how he's actually more than seventy years old, stuck inside a body of a child.
"Patience sweetie." He winked at his son and kissed him on the forehead. "Now off to bed, I'm sure you're tired from such an exhausting day."
Marchosias nodded and stood up to hug him, much to his surprise.
"Thank you, Mama."
"You're very much welcome, my dearest." Marcaunon whispered and closed his eyes in contentment.
-Line Break-
Location: Hogwarts
Just the previous day, Marcaunon had questioned his loyal servant of Its method on dealing with his previous Potions' Professor. He still marveled at the fact that Death –that bloody workaholic– would take a day off to arrange everything for him. Even though his question was unanswered, he would not look a gift in a thestral's mouth.
Both he and his son looked vacantly at the giant looming gate of Hogwarts with an air of impatience.
"Remember to be on your best behavior." The scarlet eyed teen turned towards the child sitting comfortably on his hip. "And to speak properly, for you can never know who would be listening."
The ruby eyed child gave a small nod and rested his head on Marcaunon's shoulder. They were waiting for the Headmaster and the elder of the two almost snapped at how late the old man was. Does the fool not know that time was precious –especially his.
Marcaunon turned his head to the direction of where a powerful Light magical signature came from and was rewarded with blinding neon orange and pink. He hissed under his breathe and could feel how his son scrunched up his nose in distaste as the child hid his face into Marcaunon's robe.
The teen gave the eccentric old man a closed-eyed smile and prayed that he could hopefully convince said old man to change –burn– his wardrobe in the near future. He would not want his and his son's retina to be incinerated by those things the old man called clothes.
"Marcaunon my boy! Forgive an old man's lateness. Hagrid –you remember him don't you?– was in need of convincing that… babying dangerous creatures was not something to do. Almost poisoned in fact!" The Headmaster greeted with twinkling blue eyes.
"No problem, Albus. The sight of Hogwarts is something to admire. Is Hagrid alright?" He asked in concern.
Dumpodour waved his concerns off with a bright smile.
"No worries, it would take more than a three-headed snake to bring down the big fella. Let us be on our way!"
He lifted an elegant brow and hid his amusement when his mind brought an image of their friendly resident half-giant snuggling a poor runespoor whilst making cute babying sounds. Perhaps he should introduce his little Chaos to some of Hagrid's… pets.
They were led inside the castle and Marcaunon was unable to hold a small smile from appearing on his lips. He had missed his first true home. He whispered to his son about the hidden corridors, portraits and statues within the castle, with Dumbodie adding his fair share.
The threesome soon arrived within the dungeons and stopped in front of a portrait of a pale, black haired man with dark green eyes and a large green serpent coiled around his shoulders. It hissed profanities at them and Marchosias let out a bell-like giggle when said snake kept insulting the Headmaster.
"You may change the password afterwards, but for now; Potions."
They entered the moderate sized room, with walls covered in earthly green and black. The room was furnished, and linked with three additional doors. The headmaster clarified that the black door leads to his personal potion's lab, the green door to his and his son's bedchambers, and the brown door to his personal study. After setting his son on an armchair near the fireplace, he took a look around –noticing a map atop said fireplace that shows the layout of the dungeons.
He soon entered the green door to place both his and his son's shrunken trunks inside and promised himself to unpack after dinner. He closed the door and made his way towards the fireplace where Albus was smiling at the squirming child on his lap. He grimaced and shot the boy a pitying look.
"Is this place to your liking?"
"It is, thank you."
Marchosias hopped off the old man's lap in relief and waddled towards Marcaunon with his arms outstretched. He snatched the boy from the floor and placed the grimacing child on his hip.
Soon they were on their way to the Great Hall for dinner, after visiting his future classroom and shown the entrance to the Slytherin common room.
OOOO
The students in the hall were whispering to one another, the upper years clearly recognizing Marcaunon whilst the lower years listen to their senior's story about him. Dumiepoo ushered him next to his own seat on the left.
Marcaunon took it with a polite nod and placed his son on his lap. The Headmaster soon introduced the professors and explained that Marchosias would be staying together with him, since he was a single father.
Some of the Professors looked at him with disdained. They probably thought that he had knocked up some poor girl.
Dumbles continued to instruct him on what his duties were (brewing Potions for the Medi-witch when her stocks are halved), explaining as to why he became the Head of the House for Slytherin (tradition for Potion Masters to become one) and if he wanted, bring Marchosias to his classes. But only if Marchosias kept away from boiling cauldrons, dangerous ingredients, and the such –not that his son would be foolish enough to endanger his own life, too much self-preservation.
The feast soon began after the Headmaster had made his announcements. The professors conversed softly, mostly about how young or uncontrolled he was to be having a son at such an age. Marcaunon had to grit his teeth to refrain his magic from lashing out when one of them called Marchosias a bastard child.
"It's good to see you again, Mr. Gaunt." McGonagall said. Her eyes softened as she looked at both of them.
"Likewise, Professor McGonagall."
"Please, call me Minerva. We're co-workers are we not?"
"Then Marcaunon to you, Minerva."
"For me as well, Marcaunon. If you would allow me to?" A squeaky voice said and he turned towards the half goblin.
"Of course, Filius. May I introduce you both to my son, Marchosias? Greet the Professors little one."
"Salutations." Marchosias said distractively as he struggled to scoop some beans.
"My… What a clever boy. Much like you, Marcaunon."
"Thank you Filius. Marchosias loves reading so perhaps he would end up in your House in the future."
"Oh I can't wait! A Raven in the making hm?"
Marcaunon chuckled at the half-goblin's excitement as he questioned little Chaos on the books he had read.
"May I ask… where his mother is?" McGonagall asked softly, as if to not want his boy to hear. It was a futile attempt since Marchosias unconsciously tilted his head in her direction –he would have to fix that habit soon. He could see there was only curiosity and he unintentionally grimaced as he remembered how Charlie had Obliviated him after they had… exercised.
Marchosias had a dark look on his face when he spotted Marcaunon's grimace.
"Alive if you're wondering. She… doesn't want him."
"My apologies. I didn't mean to bring it up…"
Marcaunon shook his head to the woman and smiled at her. They continued their small talk whilst they ate, and he noticed how the others apart from McGonagall and Flitwick glared at him. He could practically taste their jealousy and disgust.
"Albus?"
"Yes, my boy?" The wrinkled old man raised an eyebrow in question.
"Is it possible to have a high-chair next to mine in the future? As well as a plastic spork?"
"Of course it is. I'll be sure to inform the elves."
Marcaunon thanked the Headmaster and patted his son's fluffy hair. Now that he had his dream job –and a first class seat to watching Dumbledork squirm in the future fight with Voldemort– he was content for the time being.
-linebreak-
Location: Hogwarts, Potion's Classroom
Marchosias was sitting on his mother's desk in the Potion's classroom, waiting for the students to finish their breakfast to attend. He looked up from one of his mother's potion tomes when he heard the door slamming open.
The high and childish voices of eleven year olds were heard through the door and soon, they started heading towards a random seat. After much time, they finally noticed him sitting on their professor's desk, staring at them with unnerving ruby red eyes.
He questioned why his eyes were red once, but Marcaunon only wrinkled his nose and told him it was genes.
He noticed that this class was filled with all four Houses. Perhaps this year's first year had too little numbers to be separated into two houses each. Getting annoyed at their constant bickering over useless books and subjects, he closed his book; leading to a deafening silence heard after a loud bang when more than a thousand pages closed together.
"It would be pwoductive if you tuwn to page five and wead whilst waiting."
Majority of the class made cute cooing sounds at him, whilst the others lifted their noses to look down on him. He did not appreciate that one bit. Just as he was about to give them a very thoroughly tongue lashing, he halt and remembered Marcaunon telling him about acting his age –and most kids don't read dictionaries just because they were bored.
Sometimes he wondered if Marcaunon was oblivious and ignorant about children or he just didn't care about Marchosias's adult-like behavior.
He ignored them in favor of reading the tome on his lap, not minding that it was half his size and dwarfed him cutely.
The door slammed open and he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at how his mother made his cloak billow dramatically. He could see how everyone's eyes were trailing after Marcaunon, and he could not fault them. His mother's presence always demanded attention even without words.
Marcaunon stood before the class, hand behind and back straight. Looking like a perfect pureblood lord rather than a mere Potion's Professor.
"My name is Marcaunon Gaunt, and the child sitting on my desk is my son, Marchosias. Due to some circumstances that are not any of your concern, he will accompany me in lessons…" His mother scrutinized them and smiled softly. "Keep your wands as there will be no wand waving or incantations in this class."
Some of them hesitated, but was quick to keep them when Marcaunon's smile became sweeter. Yes, his mother had a dangerous smile that he often used when Marchosias was stubborn. He looked intimidating without his rose-tinted glasses to hide those beautiful yet deadly scarlet red eyes.
Perhaps he should flush those hideous things down the toilet just to prevent Marcaunon from wearing them once more.
"I am well aware that you have already… been taught by your previous professor, Horace Slughorn. My methods and his differ. We will begin from the beginning, and I assure you that you will not fall behind." Marcaunon assured them as some Ravens began to protest. They were silenced with a look.
"I know for a fact that many of you would prefer waving your wands to making potions… Since only complicated ones would need magic. As such, it is understandable that majority do not appreciate the exact art of potions making. However for those… few… who possess the predisposition…" His voice became hard, and most of the students held their breath. Some even shivered at the passionate look his mother's eyes were sporting. "I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses."
Marchosias saw his mother cross his arms and lean on the desk, just beside him, completely relaxed. The children were waiting for him to continue with eagerness. A complete one eighty from their bored expressions before.
"I can tell you how to bottle fame… brew glory and even put a stopper in death…" The scarlet eyes lit up and Marchosias could hear some of the girls sighing their love sick sighs that he often heard when taking a stroll with his mother outside their home. "But then again… Can someone please wake her up? Yess, the girl at the back."
The closed-eye smiled was deadly and Marchosias shivered in remembrance.
Most of the class turned to one Slytherin girl that was yawning and rubbing her eyes, as if she had just woken from a short nap. The person beside the girl nudged her arm and she startled into focus.
"Miss…?" Marcaunon asked slowly as he stared directly at her.
"Black. Bellatrix Black." The girl with wayward brown curls sneered at his mother.
Marchosias looked at her in interest. He remembered the insane witch that he had taught once upon a time. He now had the opportunity to see how she grew into being one of the best duelers in his circle of followers.
"Tell me Ms. Black… Perhaps you have come to Hogwarts in possession of ability so formidable that you are confident enough to answer some of my questions… since you were obviously not paying attention?" Marcaunon questioned softly, his smile turned innocent.
"Go ahead." She sniffed haughtily with her nose held up high. "Sir."
"What would I get if I added powdered rooted Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?" Marchosias almost snorted out loud. That was sixth year material if his eidetic memory served him right.
The students looked flabbergasted and even the Eagles don't seem confident enough to answer. Bella shook her head with a scowl.
"You don't know? Well let us try once more. Where… Ms. Black would you look at if I asked to find me a bezoar?" If Bella was smart enough to read before class, she would know –it was on page five– that the answer was clearly printed there.
Once again, the foolish girl shook her head, her face going red in anger. Marchosias wondered if the reason why she was captured and shoved into Azkaban for thirteen years was because of her pride of her being superior to those with dirty-blood.
In his four years of reincarnated life, he had learned that blood wasn't everything thanks to his mother. He had been in denial first, but then thought back to how the strongest wizards were always Half-bloods. Albus Dumbledore (as much as he hated to admit it), Harry Potter… And him, Tom Riddle.
Marcaunon gave him a book once to prove that new blood was required and Purebloods should stop fucking their close cousins/sisters/brothers (his mother's words, not his). Marchosias snapped back into focus as Marcaunon questioned Bella once more.
"And what is the difference between Wolfbane and Monkshood?" They're one and the same… Clearly her dueling skills came from practical and not theoretical.
Yet again, she shook her head. This time her face turned an ugly shade of purple, almost as she was about to explode. Judging from his mother's sadistic –yet hidden– smile, he knew exactly what would happen after he spoke the next word.
"Pity. Clearly blood isn't everything… Is it… Ms. Black?" The way Marcaunon spoke the word Black was mocking and Marchosias had to bite back a giggle.
"You dare!?" She screeched. "You filthy…! Says the Mudblood who knocked up a girl. She probably dumped her son on you since he's a filthy burden. Clearly we can all see how he has come from the wedlock." If he wasn't feeling homicidal right now, he would have been amused at how an eleven year old girl knows what knocked up means.
Alas, he gritted his teeth to prevent himself from snarling right there and then. Before his mother could retort (oh he could see how Marcaunon's eyes burned), he had already jumped down the high desk and stalked towards the young and so very foolish Bella. He dragged a stool, not minding that the noise made most of the students cringe, in front of the girl's desk and stood on it. He glared at her.
"Fow youw infowmation… Miss Black." He hissed, forgetting that he was not a Dark Lord, but just a child of four winters. "Asphodel and Wowmwood makes sleeping potion so powewful it is known as the Dwaught of the Living Dead. A bezoaw is a stone taken fwom the stomach of a goat, which would save you fwom most poisons. Though I highly doubt that you awe smawt enough to wecognize the telltale signs of being poisoned."
He did not notice how Marcaunon's eyes glinted in pride, nor how the students gap at him in astonishment.
"As fow Monkshood and Wolfsbane, they awe the same plant which also goes by the name of Aconite." He mocked the bristling girl in front of him as he jumped down from the stool. "Oh and insulting a fellow puweblood? Foolish giwl." He hoped that he was pureblood, since his father is still unknown to him. And he doubted that Marcaunon would ever willingly become intimate with a Muggle –Parasite by his mother's dictionary.
Bella screeched and jumped over the table, her hands shot out towards his neck and he stumbled back, his child side wanting to cry out for his mother whilst the adult part snarled at her daring.
Before she could even reach for him, she was forced back onto her chair and silenced without even a word. He heard his mother moving and stalked towards him. As he reached near, he was placed on the desk and Marcaunon turned towards the class once again.
"Well… Why aren't you all copying this down?" The class went into motion and Marcaunon narrowed his eyes at Bella. His mother was furious and he could see how deadly his closed-eye smile is becoming.
How he wished he was older so he could Crucio that bitch into oblivion. Even with his prowess in wandless, he was not at the level of throwing Unforgivables without a wand.
"And Slytherins… Note that fifty points will be taken from your House due to your classmate's… cheek… disrespect… and attempted assault."
The Slytherins glared at Bella whilst they continued to write down what Marchosias had explained. The board soon had his mother's familiar cursive writing, written instructions to be followed by expected time.
As soon as they had placed down their quills, Marcaunon begin to explain the ingredient's attribute, the reasons as to why said ingredient was needed, and how to properly brew the potion step by step.
Some Ravenclaws were promptly shot down after they tried to correct Marcaunon's teaching, saying that the book wrote otherwise. Even if his mother had an infinity amount of patience for Marchosias and Mort, he was snappish and positively rude when his methods were being questioned just because it was not written inside the school book.
Marchosias snorted. How his mother was sorted into Hufflepuff was beyond him. He was clearly Slytherin.
-Line break-
Location: Hogwarts, Marcaunon's study
"Death?" Marcaunon whispered out as he continued to stare at the documents spread out on his desk.
"You called, Master?" Was the carefree reply as the entity appeared without Its cloak. It was wearing dark colored Parasite clothing (shirt and jeans), and Marcaunon stared gobsmacked.
"… What are you wearing?"
"It's obvious isn't it?"
"I mean… Why in Merlin's saggy testicles are you wearing that?"
"I was taking a walk in the park. Weekends are supposed to be relaxing is it not?"
"… Forget it. I called you here not to question what wear on your free time, but about this."
He pointed at the parchments and stared at Death in enquiry. It picked a few up to read and raised an elegant brow at Marcaunon. Its Avada eyes glowing with question.
"There's nothing wrong with these documents."
"Well… Yeah… But I'm wondering why I would always get twins in one folder, even if they were to expire on separate dates. The documents say that this one, Alice, died nine years ago, and her twin died just a few hours ago. Why do I receive Alice's documents nine years later?"
"Ah. As you know, Master, Deathfiles are for you to judge which soul goes to where, am I right?"
"Yess…?"
"Is that a question or a statement?"
"A statement of course."
"If you say so, Master. Twins are Natural Horcrux."
"… I beg your pardon? It seems that my hearing is failing me in my old age… I thought I heard you say twins are Horcrux."
"Natural Horcrux, but yes you heard correctly, though if you insist that your hearing is –"
"I get it! I really wonder why you would insult your own Master sometimes."
"Shall I explain then?"
"Yess, please. What do you mean by Natural Horcrux?"
"First, let me explain about twins. They are literally one soul with two bodies. The soul splits exactly in half, before they enter their respective bodies that were meant for them when they're inside their bearer. To answer your first question; twins or triplets or any that come from the same womb, will always share a soul, thus leading them to have the same Deathfile no matter if one were to die earlier than the other."
"So… If Twin A were to die a minute after birth, the soul would still be here? But won't that mean that due to Twin B, Twin A could come back to life? I have never heard of twins being immortal."
"That's why they're called Natural Horcrux. They will still die due to severe injury or old age, and they have no option in controlling their spirit's movement until their counterpart dies."
"Will that mean that Twin B can't bring Twin A back to life?"
"Exactly. Since to create a Horcrux using Soul Magic, the person would need to perform a ritual. This ritual will prevent the vessel from dying from natural causes, and allow them control over their spirit. The person whom has done this ritual could possess a person and create a new body from scratch."
"Ah I get it. To put it simply, a Natural Horcrux is a soul split into pieces because they have two or more bodies made from their mother, but unable to resurrect the other(s) if one were to die, whilst ritual Horcrux is… well, the Horcrux Volds used to assure his immortality."
"Yes. This is the reason as to why twins would often than not have mental connections; they can talk to their counterpart or feel what the other is feeling. I'm sure you know what I'm speaking of, Master, since you yourself used to have a mental connection with Tom Riddle… Do you still have it?"
"Yess actually. Did you forget that Tom's soul was with me for seventeen years? A very small portion of his soul was merged with mine, and if it were to have more than seventeen years back then, Tom and I would have…"
"Indeed… I have watched as you cried yourself to sleep each night after killing your soul-brother, Master. You never stopped grieving for him even after a century has passed. He was the only one you still remember with clarity."
"This is making me depress… Even though I logically know that there are two Tom Riddles running around (Dumbles would have a heart attack if he knew)… And one of them knows that I killed him. If Tom… No, Marchosias ever found out… If he were to look at me with hatred in his eyes, I could never stand it."
"Master…"
"Look at me now, Death. Love has made me weak. Ever since Chaos came, I have shown more emotions than I would have liked. One day, he would leave me. One day he would die. I… Even thinking about it…" Marcaunon choked on a sob. Death was the only one who would never laugh at his show of weakness.
Death pulled him into a hug and Marcaunon buried his face into Its chest. His arms wrapped around Death's middle whilst Its hands were stroking through his unkempt hair.
"Shhh… It's alright Master. I may not be able to prevent him from dying, but I can be sure to extend his lifespan."
"But the balance…"
"Nicolas Flamel lived up to six hundred years of age with the damn stone. I believe another person would not matter."
"He won't die of old age…?"
"Never, Master. But he will die when fatally wounded."
"I'll protect him."
"As will I, Master. I will not be much of help since if I kill too much, the balance would be disrupted, but I will watch him as I have watched you."
Marcaunon chuckled weakly and tilted his head to stare into those beautiful emerald eyes, his chin resting on Its strong chest. Sometimes he hated not being able to reach Death's shoulders with his height.
"Let us avoid this topic in the future. Having a breakdown at my age is beyond embarrassing."
"As you wish, Master. Now you know why twins are placed into one folder, no matter if one were to die before another."
"Yeah… Will you head back?" He pushed himself away from the entity reluctantly and stood with his back straight.
"Yes. If that's all Master?" Asked Death as It wiped some of his tears that were on his cheeks with Its long fingers.
Marcaunon nodded and Death vanished into the shadows. He smiled softly as a few butterflies landed on his person, and whispered to the empty room.
"Thank you, Mort, my dearest companion."
-Line Break-
The questions that were asked by Marcaunon, and answered by Marchosias were from HP and the Sorc Stone. I'm trying (and I think I'm failing) to imitate Unohana Retsu's scary smile and putting it on Marcaunon when he's angry at his students.
For the people who have given me advice, I thank you and will work hard to improve on my mistakes. And for those who have guessed who Marc had slept with, congrats –you have officially broken my heart! Messy hair and Hazel eyes are a dead giveaway huh…? For those curious people: Yess Chaos's sperm donor will make an appearance in the future.
I must thank you all for reviewing. Every time I opened my E-mail and see alert or comments, I just want to throw my hands in the air and shout BANZAI!~
Sorry for such a short chapter… (T_T)… And if any of you have questions, feel free to drop a review or PM.
Story recommendation for today: Rebuilt by Terrific Lunacy. The world was in a crisis with not much food/water… Humans group up into gangs, finding territory etc etc. Tommy-boy became a Lord, whilst Harry is an oblivious mad genius inventor whom tries (and fails) to stay neutral. The fic's funny and awesome. TMR/HP pairing.
Rainbows and unicorns,
GenderlessPerson