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, 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"
Chapter 8: Malfoys, Malfoys… Oh and look, more Malfoys!
August 1966
Location: Ministry of Magic
They both walked towards the Minister's office contemplative silence. Marcaunon didn't bother trying to guess what the old coot was thinking about –probably the makings of Lemon Drops or what rot.
He didn't notice that they have arrived until they were ushered into the office by a blushing secretary. She was staring lecherously at Dumblewhore and Marcaunon had to hold back a grimace –she should learn occlumency and keep those thoughts to herself.
"Albus, I'm glad you could make it." Nobby Leach, the Minister of four years greeted with a broad smile. The man has bags underneath his dark eyes, laughs lines all over his face and goatee. He looked rather fit for a fifty something year old man with a desk job –though there was a bald spot on his greying head.
"Nobby! How are you, my friend?" They took a seat by the fireplace (different seats!) with Leach directly in front of them.
"Sadly tiring. Too many howlers for my liking."
"Pardon me, Minister. Lord Malfoy and Head Auror Moody have arrived." The secretary announced after knocking on the door.
"I hope you don't mind having them with us, Albus. Abraxas is here to represent the Wizengamot, and Moody is the Head Auror."
"Of course not, Nobby." The Headmaster's twinkle had dimmed a little. Marcaunon would've smirked at the old man, but he was dreading the encounter.
"Send them in, Ms. Sina."
The door opened and Leach greeted the newcomers with a smile. They were ushered to their seats, with Malfoy sitting to the left of him, and Mood to Bumblebee's right.
Abraxas was a tall man with long blonde hair and grey eyes. The blond was more muscular than his son, Lucius, and has the same handsome face that all other Malfoys have. He wore an elegant dark colored robe (the material looked expensive) that fit his body, showing how fit the man is. The canes all Malfoy Lords had was by his side and Marcaunon held in a snort at the design –a silver snake, how original.
He observed the Head Auror next, noticing that he looked very similar to Mad-eye. His father perhaps. The man was at an average height, and has average looks –one that he'll forget soon (the only reason why he remembered Mad-eye was because of his scars). The man wore the standard Auror uniform as he slouched in his seat, unlike the other men in the office.
"Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, and… I'm sorry young man, but I never got your name." The men turned to him and Marcaunon brought out his Hufflepuff friendly mask that basically shout out 'I'm innocent and defenseless'.
"That's because I have yet to be introduced, Minister."
Dumbles at least had the decency to look sheepish and cleared his throat to gain attention.
"Nobby, Lord Malfoy, Auror Moody, let me introduce to you my Potions' Master, Marcaunon Gaunt. Marcaunon, this is Nobby Leacher, Abraxas Malfoy, and Arastor Moody."
Marcaunon discreetly scanned their expression, noting no change apart from the Minister –there was doubt in his eyes. When his scarlet eyes landed on Abraxas, there was a small (too tiny to be noticed if one were not looking for it) expression of confusion in the blonde's eyes. He recalled that Abraxas Malfoy was infamous for his cruelty and known to be Voldemort's right hand man in the early 70s.
"I do not wish to be rude, young man… Albus… But isn't he too young –this is an unknown poison and –"
"Do not be fooled by his youthful face, Minister." Dumbles cut the Minister off with a chuckle.
"He could be no more than eighteen." Moody gruffed out. Marcaunon sighed under his breath. Mad-eye's father kept sending him suspicious looks, and it was beginning to annoy him –was the Moody family motto Constant Vigilance?
"I'm twenty-two, Auror Moody." He smiled softly at them. "My youthful appearance is all thanks to good genes, but we digressed from our original purpose. Will you let me examine the concoction, MInister?"
Leach handed a potion bottle filled with greenish-blackish bubbling liquid inside.
"May I know the effects…?" He asked absentmindedly as he examined the bottle. He swirled it around and with a heavy sigh, removed his glasses –the world was too rosy for him to make an accurate observation.
"The blood of the victim thickens at a painfully slow rate," Moody grumbled. "and the temporary solution is to place them in stasis charm."
"Only thicken?"
"It melts the skin as well as giving them blisters… Abnormal breathing, and they had vomited quite a lot."
"Any problems with direct inhalation?"
"None."
With that, he pulled out the cork and took a whiff. There was definitely Monkshood in there as well as Nerium Oleander –two very poisonous plants. He frowned and pulled out his potion equipment and laid them on the table surrounded by the men in the room.
The first thing he would have to do is to separate the components inside. He suspected one or two snake venoms in there, but he was no expert on serpents –apart from Basilisks apparently. He didn't mind that the men were talking to one another, probably discussing about the raid and how to catch the mastermind, and focused on the potion at hand.
It was something he had never encountered before, even in his original world –maybe the victims died and there was no cure found, so they labeled it as unknown. Marcaunon idly wondered if Voldemort was the one responsible… It wasn't his style and he would definitely be more subtle in the beginning. Voldemort is a genius strategist, he would never order his minions to raid half-heartedly. There weren't even that many casualties –and no deaths, shocker!
Voldemort appeared in the late 1960s to terrorize the community when his bills were denied by the Wizengamot (majority supported the Light blindly, the proposals were great actually), before the Ministry announced war around the early 1970s.
He battered the thought away and proceeded to the next step, identifying the ingredients used. It took him quite long but he thankfully noted down that no, there were no basilisk venom used. The only way to counter them was to use Phoenix Tears, which was a rarity itself –phoenixes do not shed their tears without reason. Fawkes was still a wild Phoenix, not yet bonded to Dumbles –he never figured out why sure a pure creature would want to remain with Dumbledore of all people.
The final step was to figure out how to recreate the concoction (by trial and error) so that he could brew an antidote. Marcaunon excused himself from the circle and stood in the middle of the office, glad that at least it was wide and spacious enough. He enlarged his Potion-making kit and conjured a fire pit table.
He was grateful that he remembered to restock his kit a week ago and arranged all necessary ingredients on the tables.
"May I ask for the progress, Mr… Gaunt?" A smooth male's voice drawled and he saw Malfoy stepping beside him to observe his work.
"All is well, Lord Malfoy, though I would recommend that you take a few steps back." He smiled at the blonde as he poured water into the cauldron. "The heat will become much unbearable."
"Are you able to create an antidote this very day?" The tone was polite, but Marcaunon could hear the hidden doubt in it.
"Hmm…" He hummed as he worked. "It's definitely a challenge."
"A Mastery at the age of Twenty-two is an incredible feat itself –curious that nobody knows." Marcaunon inward sighed at the interrogation he was receiving. Could this blondie not see him working?
"Thank you, Lord Malfoy. The passion I have towards Potions made me what I am today. The guild I am in tends to keep their members anonymous."
"Most guilds often brag about their members."
"Is that so?" He replied idly as he stirred.
"Indeed." Malfoy cleared his throat and moved on to another topic. "How's Hogwarts these days?"
"Great. The number of students attending is increasing each year."
"Do you like teaching, Mr. Gaunt?"
"I do, though grading essays is not one of my favorite things to do." He added a few drops of King cobra venom. "Were you in Slytherin, Lord Malfoy?"
"Indeed I am. May I ask why you're asking?"
"Hmm… No reason, my Snakes would sometimes talk about you."
"Oh? I do hope they didn't say anything unfavorable."
Marcaunon faked a realistic chuckle and smiled at the blonde.
"Not at all. The bills you present were always a discussion in the common room."
They continued conversing for another half an hour until the other men in the office joined them to observe and ask a few questions regarding the antidote. He was annoyed at their impatience and wanted nothing then to announce that there was no cure just so he could watch the Minister's reaction.
It seemed that Leach's wife was one of the victims and the reason why the man had bags underneath his eyes. A pity.
September 1966
Location: Hogwarts, Near Slytherin Dungeons
"My father will hear about this!" That phrase made Marcaunon's lips twitch uncontrollably for a few seconds before he smoothen his expression into a serene mask. It seemed that Lucius and Draco Malfoy have the same bratty personalities when they were younger, including the most infamous words of 'My father will bloody hear about this'.
He was already worried about his freedom after meeting Abraxas, and now he had to deal with Lucius?. If his son was here… A future confrontation between him and Voldemort would be inevitable once a letter to home is sent (he had tinkered with Abraxas's mind a little on his way back from the Ministry). He would need to intercept Bleach-brat's letters from now on.
He didn't really have to worry about Bellatrix and Andromeda reporting back to their parents about anything, since he had skimmed through their mind and found out that they know nothing about his family name. It was a little odd for them not to know Slytherin's descendants, but that could be Voldemort's doing.
He never heard of any Blacks apart from Bellatrix inside of Voldemort's inner circle. Maybe the Blacks didn't support Voldemort since they know he's a Half-blood…? Walburga attended school with Tom, didn't she? If only he could ask his little Chaos about that!
He inwardly shook his head and focused back onto Bleach-brat.
Marcaunon had yet to personally meet the boy; he wasn't in the Sorting Ceremony since he was busy making more antidotes on the Headmaster's request (order). Just as he turned the corner, he saw something he would have preferred to avoid.
Bleach-brat was being pinned to the wall by a fifth year Gryffindor. The location left much to be desired. The foolish Lion should have known better than to confront a Snake in its own territory. Alone.
Before he could wonder about the existence of bleach hair dye for wizards, the fifth year boy with chestnut colored hair and black eyes placed his wand underneath Malfoy's chin. He had no choice but to intervene before anything escalates and Bleach-brat whines to daddy dearest –no need to have Abraxas visit Hogwarts just because of this little thing.
"What is going on here?" He questioned whilst narrowing his eyes at the Gryffindor. "And unhand him this instance!"
The red robed teen was quick to push away from Bleach-brat, as if disgusted, and looked sheepishly at Marcaunon.
"Professor."
Bleach-brat fixed his collar and turned his nose upwards, looking down at them both. Oh the nerve of this brat! Only two minutes and he already made a first bad impression on Marcaunon. He was tempted to dunk the boy's head in pink dye just because.
He ignored the urge in favor of staring both teens down. A few moments passed by and he could see them squirming under his unnerving gaze. Marchosias did say something about how creepy people thought their eye color (red) was.
"Jordon Lacer. What is a fifth year Gryffindor doing all the way down here in the dungeons… assaulting one of its inhabitants?"
"Err… I-it wasn't my fault Professor! Malfoy here kept on calling me a M-m-mudblood!"
"And pray tell why you are in the dungeons whilst supposedly being at your Tower?"
Lacer had no answer and looked down, probably finding his shoes interesting.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for the inability to follow instructions thoroughly, Mr. Lacer."
He gaze was still sharp on Lacer. The teen intended to inflict damage on one of his Snakes just because the Bleach-brat called him what his species were usually called? Ignorant fool.
From the corner of his eyes, he could see that Bleach-brat was expecting him to give Lacer a detention as well. Oh he would be giving detentions alright.
"Ten points from Slytherin for that comment, Mr. Malfoy." The brat did a double take and gap at him inelegantly. It was expected that a normal eleven year old not having much self-control –unlike his son– over their reaction and tend to give way too much.
"What!? How dare you take points from me! Don't you know who I am?" The brat sneered at him. Even Marchosias could sneer better at the puny age of four. "Wait till my father hears about this!"
"Another five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy. Does your father not teach you respect?" He mocked with a polite closed eye smile.
Bleach-brat looked gobsmacked and was about to retort yet again. Oh he would not risk his House Cup –Slytherin had won for three consecutive years– just because this bloody brat could not keep his mouth shut. The solution was to interrupt before he accumulates to a negative hundred point in day one.
"And for you, Mr. Lacer… Twenty points from Gryffindor for assaulting a first year." Hah! Now Gryffindor has negative thirty! But seriously, the first day and already he had handed out point deductions.
"B-b-but! But Malfoy insulted me! He used the M word at me!" Lacer waved his hands towards the brat. M word… Marcaunon recalled how his dear uncle used to say that in reference to Magic.
"No excuses Mr. Lacer. For even pointing a wand at a first year who knows no spells–"
He was rudely interrupted and could feel a tick forming on his temple.
"He's a Dark Wizard! He's evil like every other slimy snake sorted into Slytherin! He of course knows tons of Dark spells to counter me!"
"Does that give you an excuse to point your weapon at an un-armed child? Just because you assume that he learnt Dark Arts from his parents?" He cut in and the boy held in a flinch. Marcaunon continued on mercilessly.
"Are you also accusing me of being an evil overlord as I am Head of House for evil slimy snakes?" His smile turned feral and could see that Lacer had paled, forgetting that he was indeed the Head of Slytherin. "Another twenty points from Gryffindor for insulting a Professor, Mr. Lacer."
He would be expecting a visit from Minerva this evening it seems. Bleach-brat was looking at him with wide eyes, ashamed that his own Head had taken points from him on the very first day.
"Detention with Mr. Apollyon Pringle next Sunday. The both of you. Return to your respective common room, and follow me Mr. Malfoy."
Before they could even open their mouths, he turned around swiftly and glided down the dungeons; his cloak billowing behind him similar to a certain dungeon bat. Sometimes he regretted being a Professor, teaching dunderheads and hormone filled teenagers that think only with their lower region were awfully tiring.
He heard tiny soft footsteps behind him. At least the brat had followed him without another prompting. The brat cleared his throat.
"I apologize for my unsightly behavior. May I ask for your name, Professor?"
"Marcaunon Gaunt. I sincerely hope you have a good explanation as to why you were not in our common room?"
"G-gaunt…?" Bleach-brat whispered to himself in disbelief.
"Mr. Malfoy, I'm still awaiting an answer. I do not have all day for you to gather what little of your intellect together."
"P-pardon me Professor Gaunt. I was on my way to visit our Head of the House, you actually."
"May I ask why you didn't wait in the common room? I would be giving first years their welcoming speech right about now."
"It was personal."
"…Very well. I expect you to follow quickly after my speech. Parseltongue."
They entered the common room and he waved for Bleach-brat to join his fellow First Years. He stood in front of them, a serene expression on his face. Outside of Slytherin, he would always be the cheerful and friendly Professor, but with his Snakes, he demanded absolute respect from them with narrowed eyes and death glares. The upper years know of course, but First years are always questioning him because of his masks. His acting was too brilliant it seems.
"I am your Head of House and also Potions' Professor, Marcaunon Gaunt. If you are in need of help or even a person to talk to, feel free to seek me out… I will not turn any of you away –we take care of our own. The Password will be changed weekly, and I or one of my prefects will announce it in the common room the day before the change –most of the time after dinner." He made eye contact with each person, pausing only for dramatic effect.
"I welcome you all to the greatest of the Hogwarts' four, and commend you for your cunning and ambitious nature. There are, of course certain expectations that will need to be followed within Slytherin." He gave them all his signature closed eye smile.
"All confrontations will be done within these walls and never outside the House. If it escalates, I expect one of you to fetch me, lest you lose a limb or two… permanently. Always assume that your fellow Snakes have the same or more knowledge regarding Arts that are left questionable at best." He could see majority of them swallowing but kept their expression blank. Good.
"Always remain in groups to show a united front. The other Houses –especially Gryffindors– would prefer tossing you lot into the Forbidden Forest rather than letting you attend classes with them. Refrain yourselves from being a tyrant and commenting on your schoolmate's blood purity –or lack thereof." He smirked when the little eleven year olds snickered into their palms at his jab on Mudbloods. "Some will use wands rather than words when humiliated, so take heed and make a tactical retreat when threatened. I would rather my Snakes be cowards than land themselves in the infirmary."
He paced slowly, with his hands behind his back, in front of his newest collection of Snakes as he let them absorb the fact that he needed them to have self-preservation instincts to survive in Hogwarts.
"Also, I would advise you to check for potions and poisons before consuming anything edible. You may think Hufflepuffs as the left-overs, but if any of them were to be bullied by one very foolish Snake –no matter which year, the whole of Slytherin will have their food be infected by fungi and viruses." Many of them paled and he gave a feral grin.
"There will be rumors about how I was once a Hufflepuff, and I will tell you now that all those were regrettably true. I was placed there for reasons I will not disclose to you, but let me warn you… Show me disrespect and even sleep will come difficult for you. Remember that Honey Badgers have a tendency to eat live snakes, my cute little Serpents."
Marcaunon released a small portion of his (very) Dark Magic, potent enough to make them breathless but not enough to bring them to their knees. He observed how the majority of them trembled in pleasure as their eyes glazed over and stood on shaky legs. Without even a change of expression, he suppressed his Magic and smiled dangerously at them.
"Let this be a reminder to you all that I will not tolerate rule-breakers in my House. Never be tardy and if anyone dares to lose more than fifty points… My prefects will show you to your sleeping quarters." With that, he motioned Bleach-brat to keep up as made his exit, leaving behind a group of Magic-frenzied firsties.
OOOO
"Mo–… Dad. Who's this?" He stopped halfway from calling Macaunon Mother when he spotted mini-Lucius eyeing Salazar's portrait.
"Chaos dear, please take Mr. Malfoy to my office. I'll be back in a few minutes." His mother said as he head towards their bedchamber. The door clicked close, leaving only the two children staring at one another.
He turned on his heels and made his way towards his mother's office where Slytherins would often come when they were being bullied or in need of help. He didn't bother checking to see if mini-Lucius followed. He opened the door and rounded the desk. He sat with elegance on the chair behind it, whilst motioning for mini-Lucius to take a seat in front of him.
Once he did, Marchosias smirked whilst mini-Lucius sneered.
"What's your relation to Professor Gaunt?" The blonde dared to demand. Marchosias narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Does your pitiful excuse of a mind not recall my calling of him Dad?" He mocked as the Malfoy heir sputtered in indignity.
"I was merely confirming! Who're you?"
"Is it not polite to introduce yourself before asking? Or have you not been taught proper etiquette by daddy dearest?" Mini-Lucius was up on his feet in a second and pointing his wand at Marchosias.
He didn't even blink and tilted his head to the side –a habit he gained from his mother. The door opened silently and he saw Marcaunon freeze at the sight of him being threatened (as if) by mini-Lucius.
"Mr. Malfoy… What in Merlin's bloody sacks do you think you're doing!?" Mother growled out and mini-Lucius paled. He was probably remembering Marcaunon's welcoming speech. It was rather intimidating. "Put your wand away before you accidently poke my son's eye out."
He observed how the Malfoy heir pocketed his wand and apologized stiffly to both him and his mother. Marcaunon rubbed the bridge of his nose and made his way towards Marchosias, making shooing motions for him to get off his seat.
He huffed and did so, but took a seat on his mother's lap afterwards. Marcaunon didn't seem to mind and hugged Marchosias closer to his chest.
"Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy, and you better have a good explanation for your violent behavior, lest I take more points from you." Oh? So mini-Lucius already placed Slytherin in the negative point zone?
"I… Your son insulted me, sir–"
He zoned out (but still keeping an ear open since this could prove to be blackmail material) as he played with one of his mother's summer azure butterflies. They were a pretty bluish-white in color and he always wondered why they flocked around Marcaunon. He had of course let his curiosity get the better of him and asked if his mother had placed nectar on his person. The results made him wince internally at the phantom pain on his head where a bump used to be and tugged on the butterfly's wings.
Another curious thing was that no matter how hard he pulled, these flying insects were unbreakable. They didn't even seem bothered that he tried to detach their wings from them. Knowing that he was fighting a losing battle, he started pulling the antennas next.
The butterfly in hand started squirming and he tilted his head in curiosity. Unbreakable, but pulling the antennas bring them slight discomfort. He continued pulling and tied the two into a knot. The butterfly soon became disoriented and fell from his palm and onto the floor, much to his amusement.
His nose was flicked lightly in warning by his mother at his animal abusive tendencies and he shrugged. At least his mother's butterflies were indestructible. Once again, he was curious why the butterflies didn't seem to die even after years of being with them –weren't their lifespans short?
With only a thought, another butterfly landed onto his palm. He was amused at how these tiny brain insects know when Marchosias called them to him.
This time he unrolled its proboscis and curled it around his finger. If butterflies had faces, it would be scowling at him right now. He made an amused sound from the back of his throat and continued to play with the butterfly, not minding how childlike he was acting.
"–having taken twenty five points from you. If you continue losing me points, I would force the hat to resort you into Gryffindor, Mr. Malfoy." Now that was an amusing thought. A Malfoy in Gryffindor was like putting a butterfly with the bees. They won't last long that's for sure. "Let me re-introduce to you my son, Mr. Malfoy. Marchosias say hi to Lucius."
"Hi Lucius." He greeted cutely as he shoved the butterfly to the physically elder child's outstretched hand. Like hell he would shake his (future) minion's hand.
Mini-Lucius looked confused and before his mother could warn him, the butterfly attacked the child with zeal. Its companions all fluttered towards the terrified blonde and Marchosias laughed cruelly as mini-Lucius was covered head to toe by them.
He heard Marcaunon whisper something about 'dastard child' and decided to ignore his mother in favor of watching mini-Lucius squirm like the worm he is.
October 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Marcaunon's Study
"Death?"
"You called, Master?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong… But isn't Damocles Belby the inventor of Wolfsbane Potion?"
"You are indeed correct, Master."
"Then why is it that he died seventeen hours ago from a potion's explosion?"
"Different dimension."
"The potion is important for my plans… I could always pretend to invent it… But I don't really want to bring unwanted (Voldemort's) attention onto myself. A potion that relieves the symptoms of lycanthropy is quite noteworthy."
"Relieves symptoms? But Master, didn't you achieve in creating a cure for lycanthropy when you saw your Godson miserable back then?"
"Indeed…"
"Master could always create another identity… perhaps an anagram?"
"… Death you're a genius!"
"I try."
OOOO
He stalked his way through the halls as he thought about his name. It was difficult and he couldn't think of anything cool like how Tom did it. Tom Marvolo Riddle, I am Lord Voldemort. How bloody awesome is that?
Marcaunon sighed and grumbled… before he remembered that Marchosias was actually Tom Riddle. If he could think of such a cool anagram for himself, he could definitely think of an amazing one for Marcaunon!
With that thought in mind, he bounced towards the library in search for his bookworm of a son.
Lo and behold, a small figure was dwarfed by stacks upon stacks of books surrounding him. Marcaunon could only shake his head with fondness.
"Marchosias?" His boy looked up with annoyance, but smiled when he saw was it was Marcaunon calling him.
"Yess Dad?"
"Are you busy?"
"No, not at all. Anything the matter?" His boy tilted his head cutely to the side.
"I am in need of… assistance." He said the last word with a grimace, as if he swallowed a raw lemon. Marchosias closed his book (without marking) to pay full attention to Marcaunon. "I am unable to think of a nice anagram for myself."
Whilst Marcaunon was talking, he didn't notice his son choking on his own spit. His boy cleared his throat.
"Dad... Why would you require an… anagram?"
"I created a potion that could help werewolves have control over their inner wolf." Marchosias nodded with ease, but he could see how shocked his boy was. Maybe telling Marchosias about the Wolfsbane potion wasn't a good idea. He was from Marcaunon's original world afterall. "And I prefer not being known by… someone."
"Fair enough… Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt…"
"I'm actually thinking to remove my first name. In case anyone figured out it's an anagram." Voldemort would.
"Then only Seirios Gaunt?"
"Yess…"
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes until Marchosias spoke up.
"How about Ignatius Rose?"
"… That isn't half bad… But why Rose? It sounds… girly."
"Dad… Please extend your hair and look into the mirror."
Marcaunon scowled at his boy and crossed his arms with a huff. Ignatius Rose… It wasn't a bad name. It's similar to Ignotus Peverell and he recalled reading about someone named Ignatius Theophorus, or Ignatius of Antioch.
"It's… a good name. Thank you my dearest." He kissed his son's forehead before bouncing off towards his personal lab. He had a potion to brew.
October 1967
Location: Ministry of Magic, Department of Inventions (I created this! Don't mind!)
"T-this is poison!" The head of the department, Albert Storm, declared with accusing eyes.
"Once again, I assure you it is not, Mr. Storm. This potion is a suppressor of sorts."
"Forgive me for not believing you, Mr. Rose. But surely you can see that Aconite is a very poisonous plant."
He was beginning to tire of this repeated conversation.
"Firecall a competent Potions' Master to ask their opinion." For the love of… This man would be brutally killed if he weren't trying to preserve the Wizarding Community.
"Perhaps…" The mouse of a man proceeded to firecall and Marcaunon wanted to castrate him there and then. He had already demanded for Storm to call a Master for their opinion when he arrived. But noooooo~ Stubborn bastard.
Soon, a woman with dark wavy hair that reached mid back with grey eyes, a face thick of make-up and pale skin came out from the fireplace. Marcaunon discreetly perched his rose-tinted glasses atop his nose and messed his hair so it was covering most of his face.
It was Vevila Malfoy née Lestrange, Abraxas Malfoy's bloody wife. What bad luck! First it was Malfoy Sr, then Bleach-brat and now this woman.
He could sense Voldemort's enticing Dark magic on Malfoy's left forearm and resisted the urge to reach out and caress the Mark. He could literally visualize how the Serpent tattoo would hiss at him in pleasure as he mixed their Magic together –oh so very tempting.
"Madam Malfoy, so glad you could make it. I would like your opinion on this potion, if you will." Storm said joyfully whilst handing Marcaunon's vial over to Madam Malfoy. It took quite long for her to examine the potion as she brought out her equipment.
"I am… unsure of what this is."
"Is it poison, Madam Malfoy?" He asked with a soft smile on his features.
She stared evenly back at Marcaunon and replied with caution after a few more minutes of testing. At least she was professional.
"No. It looks to be poison, but the effect was counteracted."
Marcaunon turned towards Storm and bared his teeth into a more feral smile. His patience with this man was already thinned.
"Did I not say that already, Mr. Storm?"
"Y-yes you did… But you're still young and could be mistaken–"
"I have already gotten my Mastery, Mr. Storm."
"Well… Why don't you tell me the exact details to your invention and we'll test it out and see if it's good enough to receive an Order of Merlin."
Good enough…? GOOD ENOUGH!? Oh for Merlin's sake! His brewing skills are top class whilst the potion itself was used in his old dimension. His anger meter was beginning to rise at an epic rate.
"I assure you it will be… good enough… for your Order of Merlin." He gritted his teeth and gave the man a deranged smile. Storm looked paler but he didn't care. He was beyond pissed -and he always had anger management issues.
"It's called Wolfsbane. Aconite and Hellebore would counteract each other whilst retaining their basic components, thus this is not a poison," He spat the last word, loving how Storm had flinched at his murderous tone. "Bloodroot would force the drinker to remain calm, whilst Moonstone would allow for balanced emotions and in combination with Ginger Roots would repress natural impulses. Liquid Silver is not actually a liquidity state, but mercury, and its attribute are very different even to be the exact opposite."
"A suppressor…? Not for a human, but for the instincts of an animal?" Madam Malfoy questioned in astonishment. Her Slytherin mask dropped a little and allowing Marcaunon to see the greed, respect, and something he couldn't quite identify in those grey orbs.
"Indeed. Wolfsbane does not cure, but relieves the symptoms of Lycanthropy. It allows one to hold onto their mental facilities after transformation… However it can be disastrous if not brewed correctly."
"Has it been tested yet?"
"In theory, it should work."
Marcaunon was given a parchment entailing the things that would be done, and whilst he was reading, he was oblivious to Madam Malfoy's eyes roaming his body and those grey orbs darkened with desire.
A/N:
Sorry for the late update, I was kind of busy (T3T). I would like to thank the people who reviewed, and to those who gave me tips on how to improve.
The whole time I was writing this, I had the picture of Frank Dillane (Teenage Tom Riddle's actor) beside my Word doc. Yess I'm creepy and I don't know why his face gave me inspiration. Maybe it's because I was imagining him crucio-ing Hermoine into insanity whilst smiling that sinful smile of his. *cough* Anyway, we're getting closer to Voldie! Are you exited!? ~(O3O)~
I'll be putting in more backstories about Marc's original world, and can only say that it'll not be in the form of a dream –too mainstream for me sorry! I'm glad many of you enjoyed the therapy session.
I'm sure many of you would want to see Marchosias's reaction to people chasing after Marc's hand in marriage (or body), so I'm putting in some one-sided romance. Tell me my fellow readers, who would you like to see being crucio-ed by Marchosias? Put it in the reviews! I forbid anyone from putting Dumbledore by the way!
P.S. For those who have noticed that Principal Skinner is from Simpsons, I GIVE THEE A COOKIE!
Story recommendation for today: Schooled by WyrdSmith. This is the Marauder's Era I think… Harry (or Hadrian Morgan) is a bastard son of the Potters, and is sorted into Ravenclaw. He's orphaned and dirt poor, so the Gryffindors bully him (with James as their leader). When he found the opportunity to get his revenge (like a true Slytherin) he embarrassed the whole lot of Lions and got the attention of one Marvolo Slytherin. TMR/HP Parings. AU.
Rainbows and Fungus,
GenderlessPerson