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'

Chapter 10: Frustration, and a new Project

February 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Hidden Dungeon in the… Dungeons

Marchosias paced back and forth, his lower lip swollen due to the constant nipping of his teeth –he was beyond frustrated at the thought of Vevila invading their safe haven in Hogwarts. It was enough to make his blood boil and if doesn't cool down, all the red liquid in his veins would turn to gas, not to mention the urge to kill practically hitting its limits (she came second only after the Brat-Who-Lived-To-Annoy). All of it was thanks to Albus –he allowed that bloody bint to remain in their living quarters after she was accepted as Marcaunon's assistant.

A pitiful moan made him pause in his pacing, and he shook all the thoughts about Vevila out of his mind –that bint would be getting her deserves soon enough.

But for now…

"My dear, do you know the reason why you're here?" He smiled softly at the teenager dangling from the ceiling by chains around her wrists, her toes just grazing the floor – to lessen the strain on her arms. Merciful of him hm?

The blonde, quite a looker if you ignored all the crude carvings that littered her nude body, could only whimper in fear as she stared into his ruby eyes full of mirth –he had skimmed through her mind and found humor in what she was currently thinking.

"Shall I prove to you that this is in fact, reality?"

"No p-p-please… I never… Why are you…" She sobbed as tears rolled down her cheeks. "What w-would Professor G-Gaunt say?"

All humor was gone in an instance.

"Enlighten me, Emma." He titled his head to the side, so alike his mother. "What do you think Professor Gaunt would say if he saw what I do in my spare time?"

"He w-would be d-disap…pointe–"

She screamed as Marchosias Magicked all her nails from her toes to land in front of his feet, forcing her to pull her feet higher from the ground, and putting more strain on her shoulders, arms, and wrists. Like he would be merciful to people who touched what's his.

"Sorry could you repeat that?" He schooled his face into one of confusion, showing nothing but innocent child-like curiosity. "I didn't quite catch what you were saying over all the screaming."

"I… I… haa… haaa… I'm s-sorry. P-p-…please let m-me… unhg… g-g-go."

"Well… since you're sincere in your apologies…" He shrugged and used her wand to drag a long table in front of them both, but out of her reach just in case she tries to kick it away. There were many tools on it, and her eyes widened with horror. "I'll forgive you… But only if you give me the correct answer to my very first question."

"W-what?"

"My… how quick of you to forget. Shall I help you remember?" His left hand hovered just slightly above the handle of a rather heavy-looking hammer.

"No! I-I remem…ber!"

"Really? Let's hear it." There was only silence apart from her heavy breathing. "I am not a patient person, Marrone."

"I don't know Ok!? I don't know! What e-else do you… w-want from… me!?" She panted, half in pain and half out of breathe after her… rather enthusiastic respond.

"You don't have to be rude about it." He gave her a mock hurt look. "I think five would be a good number for your insolence."

Marchosias flicked Emma's wand, transfiguring it into a long barbed whip –oh and were they insanely sharp alright. He circled her slowly, loving the feeling of being in control, and stopped just behind her. He could see how she was straining to look over her shoulder, alarm in those chocolate orbs of hers. Humans are paranoid creatures; they would often than not try to keep an eye on their potential killer or tormentor no matter how terrified they are. Leaving their backs exposed and unguarded would make them feel all the more threatened, thus leading them to panic more than usual –this normally made his blood rush south (a quirk that he isn't too proud of).

"N-no! Please! No no… no!" She begged, not knowing that her pleas were music to his ears. If his body was that of an adult's (or teenager), he would be aching with hardness from such delightful sounds –though he had made it a rule to never touch his toys, it would dirty him.

He raised his arm and brought it down, almost expertly like he had done it all his life, on her naked back. There was a sharp snap before the sound of flesh being slapped was echoed alongside a shriek of pain.

"One." He gave a toothy grin that went unseen by the teenager as he counted. "I will make you wish you were never born, Emma Marrone."

"Two." He swung the whip once again, making sure to enhance his arm muscles with Magic this time –his first strike was simply pathetic (in his eyes). Marrone's skin tore under the sharp barbs, and unlike previously, she now let out a shriek that was almost inhumane, piercing through the empty dungeons and creating a tunnel of echoes. "Never touch what is mine."

"Three." He cackled as some of her blood splattered onto his person. "Know your place, girl –do you seriously think that He would ever look at you in that way."

"Four." His eyes glazed with pleasure as she let out another throaty scream that could awaken the dead –it was that loud. "Don't worry Emma dear, I'll fix you right up afterwards." The words made her cry louder much to his sadistic glee.

Marchosias circled back to her front and stared hard at her nude form, the two lumps of fat on her chest was something most women would kill for –though he easily ignored them, he wasn't into rape back then and he won't start in this life as well. He frowned as he wondered why his mother would even consider going on a date with her –he ignored the fact that Sprout was the one who pushed his mother into agreeing, or the fact that his mother didn't know that it was a date not a shopping trip with a plus one.

He sighed, resigning himself to a fate of forever protecting his mother's innocence (even though he was once pregnant) due to Marcaunon's dense nature (it was both a blessing and a curse) and brought down the whip over her chest area, tearing one of her nipples in the process. The screech she let out made him wince and take a few steps back. What an amazing set of lungs –and he knows when to give compliments when it's due.

"Five. Have you learnt your lesson yet?"

He waited for any sign of acknowledgement, but none was said or shown. He made an irritated sound from the back of his throat after five minutes of her unresponsive self. Being ignored was something he despised with venom –Marcaunon had spoilt him rotten (not that he'll admit it to anyone) and being an ex-Dark Lord made him too important to be disregarded (he was the center of attention at all times).

"Another five for deliberately turning a blind eye to my presence."

That only made her wail harder in denial as she tugged on the chains, wanting nothing but to escape from him. Wishful thinking, but he will grant her that soon enough in the future. He needed more entertainment (and oh she is simply a marvelous entertainment value) before he was done with his newest toy (Emma dear) –and what better way than to sooth his sadistic nature than to watch her crawl to the exit, only for him to drag her back the very last minute? The hope crumbling in her eyes would be extremely pleasing to witness.

This time, he changed the barbed whip into a leather one that Muggles were so very fond of –he could never understand the reason as to why Muggles enjoy being flogged by these things in bed. A crack was heard as he brought the whip down sharply, leather hitting flesh. She screamed as her skin tore in a straight line from her left shoulder to her right hip.

"One. I would advise you to always acknowledge me in the future." He gave her a mocking smile. The teen's eyes suddenly rolled to the back of her head and she promptly went boneless –he could hear her shoulders popping out of place due to the sudden weight load. Marchosias clicked his tongue in annoyance before casting a Rennervate spell –she moaned in pain as she was forcefully awoken, crying as she noticed how her shoulders were dislocated.

"Don't fall asleep on me now, Emma dear." He chided the teen playfully with a wagging finger before bringing down his whip once more. This time her skin tore from her right shoulder to her left hip. He nodded to himself in approval at the perfect X he made. "Two."

"Y-y-you…" She bit her lower lip as a wave of pain washed over her. "Devil!"

"Try harder, deary –I've already heard that one before." He snorted, eyes alight with mirth. He remembered being referred to that by Mrs. Cole when he was Tom Riddle–only five when he was brought to his first exorcism (eidetic memory can be a curse at times). "Three"

He flourished the whip playfully, smirking cruelly as her body radiated trepidation. He lashed out forcefully on her left thigh, wrinkling his nose when she urinated herself. "Four… And now I have to clean you in case your wounds get infected. What a pain you're being, Emma dear."

He took out a wand that he had borrowed without permission from one of the Ravenclaws in the library just a few hours ago, and gave a few flicks and whispered words. She was unsoiled and the wounds on her legs cleaned before any infection could take place.

"Perhaps I should punish you for soiling yourself like a child…" He trailed off with a smirk, taking great delight in her look of despair. He snapped the whip to her right cheek, not enough to make her bleed, but enough to give her rope burn. "Five."

"I'm sorry." She crocked. "Please… ahhh!... I didn't k-know… Fo-forgive… me."

"Don't worry, Emma dear." He crooned lovingly. "Why don't you start by counting backwards… perhaps from a thousand?"

He saw a flicker of confusion on her face that was full of agony, and decided to kindly give her a starting push. Marchosias took a crimpling plier from the table and used his magic to lift her right leg towards him. He gave her an encouraging smile when she started to bawl and struggle (like a child going for an injection), and he hummed peacefully as he slowly crushed her little toe deliberately slow. "Start counting, Emma dear." Was said over her pained filled shrieks.

When she continued to only scream herself hoarse, he continued to the next toe.

"AHHH! A..-alright… wai-… Ok! P-p-please… argh… st..stop! N..nine… h-hun..dred… and… Ahng… nine… ty… ni-… AHH… ne…"

Marchosias nodded and smile at her in a proud manner. The only reason why he asked (read: demanded) her to count backwards was because it would keep her brain active and mind thinking, thus preventing her from going insane –slowing the process actually. Every human has their breaking point.

"Nin..e… hundred… hu..rts… ninety-eig…ht…"

And after a week of counting only backwards, it won't be enough –so he would have her do additions and subtractions later on. After a month or so (depends on the person's will and mental prowess), Emma would have to start multiplication and division, before her sanity takes a tumble down at a rapid rate –and her death would be ensured then. He hummed at his genius (this method was created in his youth when he grew bored of his toys becoming a drooling mess of meat before their due time) and gave himself a mental pat on the back.

"I'll release you afterwards, Emma… But not yet. Just keep counting, my dear, and you'll soon be given a chance." He smiled cutely at the blonde, not noticing or minding how he was partially covered in blood –making him look far too much like a fallen angel in Emma's eyes. "After all, you have to first feel my displeasure."

Marchosias would forever deny the childish (and somewhat demented) giggle that slipped out from his lips involuntarily after he finished his sentence –Tom Marvolo Riddle does not giggle, chuckle yes, giggle no.

February 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Marchosias's bedchamber

Marchosias stared blankly at the parchment he had repaired from ash using his Magic –he had grown suspicious when he saw Marcaunon incinerate the parchment in a hurry the previous day. He could only focus on one sentence from the whole damn letter as it continued to repeat in his head word by word mercilessly; 'Honored that I am intending to give my youngest daughter's hand in marriage to your son… Give my youngest daughter's hand in marriage to your son… Hand in marriage to your son… Marriage to your son… Marriage…'

He ripped the letter apart, ruby eyes turning crimson in rage. How dare Cygnus Black even think about pushing Narcissa into marrying him!? Just thinking about it gave him shivers of disgust –just the thought of a blond mini Tom Riddle running around is enough to give him nightmares.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, knowing that his mother would never arrange or sign a marriage for him without his prior knowledge and agreement –Marcaunon was not like most Pureblood parents. Without his permission, his Magic had all but burned the parchment pieces into its original state of ashes.

Alright, maybe he wasn't as calm as he would like to be, but it was clearly justified. He started counting backwards from ten… make that twenty. Just as he finished, the door to his bedchambers (Marcaunon and Marchosias shared one) opened, revealing the current bane of his existence –Vevila Malfoy. His tranquil state was tipped off balanced and he could almost see his temper meter going up at a rapid rate. Get rid of one, and another one pops up from nowhere. Sometimes he resented Marcaunon's good looks.

"Oh, Marchosias." She looked surprised to see him, and a little disappointment though she hid it well –but not well enough for his perceive eyes. Marchosias had to forcefully restrain his snarl at being address so casually. "Do you know where your father is?"

"Not here obviously." He continued to smile cutely at her, his words not matching his expression.

"Alright then. Won't you join me to the Great Hall? It's almost dinner time."

"Sure." He grinned brightly at her with childlike innocence. The bint just gave him the perfect opportunity to coat her fingers with poison –and she doesn't even know it. She has a (rather stupid in his opinion) habit of playing with the rim of her goblet before drinking, thus making her an easier target for assassins. No wonder she was killed early before the first war.

He hoped off his bed and shoved his hands into his pocket as he walked beside her. They made small talk and when they were half way out the dungeons, he offered his hand to the bint –forcing his expression to one of innocent eagerness, as if he wanted her to hold his hand whilst they walk. Urgh… The things he does for Marcaunon.

She cooed at him with that horrible grating voice of hers before they continued their walk, hand in hand. Too easy, Vebitchla. Too damn easy. He hid a demented smile by covering it with his other hand, skipping as if he was on sugar-high.

After they were seated, he discreetly watched as she stretched out her hand for a goblet of pumpkin juice. Just before she reached her prize, his mother (what bad timing you have mother!) appeared and sat beside him, making the bint turn to them with a seductive smile on her pouty red lips (too much lipstick, woman), hand clasped tightly together on her lap whilst she pushed forward to make those chest fats women called breast look bigger.

Marcaunon only smiled back at her, the flirting flying right above his head without any sign of recognition. Marchosias shook his head at his mother. How someone in his mid-twenties be so pure was beyond him.

"Professor…" The bint purred. "I've been looking for you."

"You have? My apologies, I was with Pomona."

He tuned them out, disgusted by the obvious one-sided flirting. He couldn't wait until her untimely demise. With a minuscular scowl on his face, he stabbed his salad harder than intended. The other Professors seemed to disapprove the new assistant's boldness (she's a married woman for Salazar's sake) –and there was a hint of pity in their eyes when looking at her, knowing that her advances were all for naught.

Marchosias's eyes sharpened when he saw her making a grab for a goblet, anticipation almost making him bounce on his seat impatiently. Stupid childish tendencies were hard to ignore when your physical body is that of a seven years' old.

As expected, she played a little with the rim as she continued to talk with the adults. The goblet was raised to her lips and his grip on his salad fork increased in pressure. Hurry hurry hurry! She finished her drink after a few gulps and he hid a grin around his tiny fork. It should make her heart fail after a few minutes of consumption.

He waited with bated breath… and was thoroughly disappointed when nothing happened after ten minutes had passed by. He frowned and tried to figure out what went wrong, before noticing that he had actually placed the poison on her wrong hand. Bloody hell. He couldn't believe it –he was actually getting rusty (of all things) in his skill of killings!

He groaned, not minding that Marcaunon was looking at him with an elegant raised brow in question –he had suffered through hand-holding with that wench for absolutely no reason at all!

March 1967
Location: Diagon Alley

He tilted his head upwards, gazing blankly at the slanted white building –home to all money loving wrinkled midgets. Marchosias was tired of not knowing who his father was, and the easiest way would be to do a ritual via blood magic. It was too bad that the law stated that only Goblins were allowed, and any Wizards caught would be sent to Azkaban for a minimum of one year. He knew that there was only a 0.01% of him being caught in the act, but going to Goblins was a lot easier.

… Alright he'll admit that he was too lazy to draw the ritual circle, but who cares. A mistake could cause an explosion of a magnitude scale and he did not want to leave Hogwarts because of his sperm donor. It just wasn't worth it.

He spared his pocket watch a glance and decided that he had better get a move on –his mother would be suspicious if he wasn't back by dinner. He nodded to the two Goblin guards, which shocked them for a second before they returned the gesture in kind. Being respectful to these gold diggers was something he learnt back in his mid-twenties. They are warriors that demanded absolute respect, and because Wizards and Witches thought them lesser due to them being non-human, they tend to deceive humans of their gold.

They were uneasy allies (business partners) –same goes to Vampires, Giants and Werewolves.

He stood on his tippie-toes, hating the fact that he was not as tall as he used to be, in front of a counter. Whilst he despised not being paid any attention to, he knew that Goblins loathe being interrupted when they're doing paperwork –so he waited.

The Goblin finally noticed him, and the creature raised a brow when Marchosias actually waited for him to finish up, unlike many others –he could hear other arrogant Wizards demanding attention from Goblins at the other counters.

"May your gold flow and your enemies bleed rivers, Elder Goblin." He could never force himself to say Master Goblin. "I made an appointment with Bloodmace to see who my birth parents are and my inheritance via Blood tests."

"May your gold flow and enemies bleed rivers, young one. May I have your name?" This is the reason why he preferred being respectful to Goblins –they don't sneer… much, and asked questions politely (as much as a Goblin can).

"Marchosias Gaunt."

The Goblin barked out in Gobbledygook to one of his colleagues.

"Very well then, Mr. Gaunt. Morningstar will lead you to Bloodmace's office."

Marchosias thanked the Goblin before following the younger looking one. There was no need for small talk, but the Goblin seemed curious as to why such a young Wizarding child would be alone at Gringotts.

After arriving, he knocked on the door (basic courtesy) and entered once a rough voiced called out.

"Mr. Gaunt." Bloodmace greeted with a sneer as he perched his glasses onto his pointy nose.

"Bloodmace." He smiled politely and took a seat.

The Goblin placed a bowl with runes carved on the bottom, and a silver dagger on the side. Bloodmace explained everything to him with a snarl here and there for effect, and a wicked grin with far too many teeth for intimidation, but Marchosias took it in without mind –he already knew the protocol and was too used to Goblins to feel offended. Though he would've if he was still young–not to mention his habit of Crucio (or AK) first, ask questions later.

After Bloodmace had finally stopped explaining (thought he left many out), he took a needle from his inner pocket, completely ignoring the dagger beside the bowl. The Goblin raised a bushy brow, but kept quiet. Marchosias pricked his forefinger and made sure that only two drops of blood landed into the bowl, no more no less. There were rituals that could be done with three drops and he would not risk it. He also ignored the silver dagger because even if he cleaned it, there could still be leftover blood residue.

The runes glowed red as his blood started to become gas-like, and Bloodmace placed a blank parchment on the top of the bowl. After a few minutes, the runes turned back to normal and the Goblin took the parchment, scanned it, and handed it over to him.

He couldn't hide his eagerness as he read through the results.

Name: Marchosias Mort Gaunt

His eyes twitched at his middle name, almost chocking on his own spit. How ironic. Voldemort to Marchosias Mort –he ignored the rational part of his mind that pointed out that he was named after his godfather, Mort. He idly questioned Marcaunon's sanity for naming his son death in another language, before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He didn't come to Gringotts for his middle name.

Blood-status: Pureblood

Age: 6 / 77

This would be awkward to explain if anyone took a peek at his results. Physical age 7 (he was seven this year!), whilst mentally 77. He would have to incinerate this parchment as soon as he finished reading it.

Parents: Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt (Maternal Father – UNKNOWN), BLOCKED (Paternal Father – ALIVE)

Marchosias's left eye twitched violently for a few seconds before he forced himself to remain calm. He should analyze this properly before making any assumptions. Let's see… The test said that Marcaunon is his bearer (which he knows), but his status of being alive is unknown (weird), and his sperm donor… is alive but unknown.

He growled when realization smacked him in the face. He had read about a (illegal) ritual that could block a person's biological parents, and the only way to unblock it is to make the person responsible to do the counter ritual. Damn his mother for being so throughout!

Counting backwards from twenty, he missed how the Goblin had looked at him with amusement –he had lost control of his facial muscles for a few respectable seconds, but it was clearly justified.

Godparent(s): Mort (Godfather – UNKNOWN)

This is getting ridiculous. Seriously. Does his godfather not even have a family name? Really?

Inheritance Results:
Direct Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt by Blood
Direct Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of BLOCKED by Blood
Secondary Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin by Blood, Soul, and Magic

Marchosias took a deep breath in… and promptly let loose a string of curses in all the languages he knew –and yes, that's a lot.

OOOO

He stabbed his salad with a salad fork petulantly. Marchosias wasn't a very happy seven year old right now thanks to his discovery –the visit to Gringotts was a complete waste of time.

And like any other seven year old that was unhappy with their parents, he gave his mother the silent treatment and the evil eye. He viciously attacked his plate of steak with a knife and his handy dandy salad fork.

He decided that nothing will improve even if he continued to act like a petulant kid, and forced himself to calm down. He analyzed and dissected all information he had gained from his visit as he tore his steak apart without a change of emotion on his face. The inheritance results showed that his father is a Lord –and he was the direct heir. Now he would just have to research all the current Lords (and oh Salazar there were a lot if he included the other countries) and see which one of them could be his father. Maybe a few characteristics were passed onto him on his father's side of the gene pool; since his mother looked far too feminine… he should have inherited his father's masculinity.

Not that he wasn't an exact replica of his mother –just that he looked more… manly…

Moving on.

He (luckily) isn't a blonde, so Abraxas is out from his list of potential fathers. He doesn't have the Blacks' signature curly/wavy hair, or any of their more prominent features (Black genes were usually dominant). He mentally canceled out Cygnus from the list as well, thankfully.

Marchosias paused in his stabbing when he thought of Crabbe and Goyle… Never mind, he would've turned out a drooling fool if one of them donated their sperms to his mother. He shuddered at the thought and quickly ate his potatoes.

A trip to the library for some research it is.

March 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Great Hall

"Marchosias dear." The overly sweet voice of one Vevila Malfoy made Marchosias cringe inwards. What was she doing here?

"Madam Malfoy." He turned and smiled at her. "Is there something you needed?"

She stared at him unnervingly and Marchosias resisted the urge to hex her into oblivion. The words whispered under her breath almost made him sneer. Almost. "Certainly inherited his father's beauty…"

He cleared his throat and politely repeated his question, which she finally answered to.

"Your father was called to the Headmaster's office. I am unsure as to the reason, but it seemed urgent." He has a suspicion that he will not be liking whatever he's about to hear soon. "By the Professor's request, I'm here to escort you to your Muggle School." Great…

"That's kind of you, Madam Malfoy, but I'm sure you must be busy with your students' essays."

"I can't possibly allow a six year old to go into Muggle London all alone!" She looked scandalized.

"I ensure you I rather go alone then with you." He whispered under his breath. She took his hand and proceeded to drag him along, much to his irritation.

Just before they managed to pass through the Hogwarts' gates, the bint bodily turned him to face her –looking quite disapproving at him.

"Where are your shoes, dearie?"

He looked down at his bare feet, not seeing any problem –shoes were constricting things and his toes preferred their freedom.

"No idea." He had all but kicked his shoes away after the dinner at the Malfoy's –so it was probably in the dungeons near Slytherin territory.

OOOO

After a long droning lecture from the bint about how shoes were made to protect people's feet, she finally apparated him to his Muggle school. Thank Salazar for small mercies.

The class was as noisy as ever, and thanks to his lovely (vengeful) mother, he was dragged back into his age group. He now has to persevere with drooling, loud, non-disciplined, dunderheaded seven year olds that were running around the classroom, throwing spitballs at one another (disgusting flobberworms) for entertainment.

He of course threw a massive tantrum worthy of an ex-Dark Lord, but because of the promise he had made to himself to never hurt Marcaunon again… He couldn't do anything else but try to make his mother change his mind –which failed spectacularly since he's still here. Lord Voldemort keeps his words, and Marchosias Gaunt will as well.

At long last, Ms. Austin arrived with a cheerful smile on her face. His classmates finally settling down and they did their customary greeting.

"Good morning class!" She chirped happily, one of her hands already reaching for her pointer stick on her desk.

"Good morning Ms. Austin!" They greeted back loudly. One of the reasons as to why Marchosias hated attending school here was because he would have to place a child's mask constantly to avoid suspicion –albeit a mature one. The other reason was because there were Muggles everywhere. Everywhere!

"Now boys and girls… Today we're going to have some new friends!" His teacher announced happily. Right on cue, the door opened and in came three young children. Marchosias cocked his head to the side, intrigued at what he was seeing.

The tallest of the three was a thin boy, with pale skin, and a hooked nose. His shoulder-length black hair framed his face in curtains, though they didn't hide his dark penetrating black pools and frowning brow. The boy's lips were curled in an almost grimace as he stared at his soon to be classmates' eager faces. Marchosias could spot a few fresh bruises on his legs (shorts were made as uniform) and some on his face, partly hidden behind his hair, and he had a suspicion as to where they came from. He also knows that the teachers would only assume that he was an energetic child whom constantly tripped or got into fights often, not child abuse. Never child abuse. Marchosias's lips twitched downwards for a split second in displeasure –Muggles were oblivious creatures that needed exterminating.

The girl beside him was the shortest out of the three newcomers, with light skin, and a cute button nose. Her dark red hair came down in elegant curls to her waist, and she made a perfect picture of what a Muggle fairy tale princess would look like. Her green eyes shined brightly, but it didn't come close to the beautiful shade he had come to known with Potter (or the Killing Curse). She smiled sweetly at the children, making many of the boys swoon –weren't they too young to be attracted to the opposite sex? Marchosias knew that she would grow into a beautiful woman, and she would still appear attractive even when her eyes dimmed due to death.

The last was a tall, thin girl, with nearly twice the usual amount of neck a normal person should have. Marchosias could only describe her as a two-legged horse in human skin, wearing a ponytail dark blonde wig that reaches just pass her middle back. Her eyes were dark, and he could make out a small pursing of her thin lips, making her look more like a horse than ever with her bigger than average front teeth. The only redeeming quality on her face was her nose, which was straight and triangular –like she had done plastic surgery but that was impossible due to her young age.

They three wore the school's uniform and were welcomed with loads of clapping on his classmates' part.

"Now now class, settle down." The teacher called out. She turned to the closest –the shortest, and smiled reassuringly. "Why don't you three introduce yourselves to your new friends?"

"Hi! My name's Lily Evans." The red hair girl introduced herself with a sweet shy smile that made the teacher coo. "My favorite color's pink and I like to read. I'm sure we'll all be good friends!" The class cheered and clapped loudly, much to the teacher's amusement.

"Severus Snape." His future Potions Master stated moodily, and Marchosias could see that many were intimidated by his mere presence. The clapping wasn't as boisterous, but majority of the girls were whispering to one another, and he could lightly make out the word fanclub. Marchosias didn't know whether to grimace or laugh at the sheer idiocy –again, weren't they a little too young to think about relationships?

"Hello, I'm Petunia Evans. I hate freakish things and people." The horse-like girl glared at her younger sister when she spoke the last part, making Marchosias tilt his head to the other side. She was that type hm… Jealousy is unbecoming of a lady (not that she could be one), dear Petunia. The class clapped politely, but most of them looked confused at her choice of words.

"They'll be with us until their school has finished rebuilding –"

"Why?" One of his classmates shouted curiously.

"Billy, you should raise your hands next time." She chided lightly.

"Sorry Ms. Austin."

She smiled at the boy and gave him a pet on the head, making him grin brightly in response. "Their school was… burnt down. So the children are transferred to schools near them whilst they wait."

After a few more minutes of his classmates questioning the new kids, Ms. Austin ushered the three to their seats. Severus was placed next to him, and Lily just in front –he didn't bother checking where the horse sat. It seems that Muggle School had just became interesting this year. Perhaps he could make a pet project to kill time…? Operation Ensure-Snape's-Undying-Loyalty commence!

A/N:

As always, I would like to thank everyone for such wonderful reviews. Such joy it brings to my aching heart when I see positive comments and feedbacks. Also, I would like to dedicate this chapter to my favourite reader and fellow writer; Of Stories Told.

It has come to my attention that I have never told you readers what Marchosias's middle name is… So there we go. He was named after his godfather (Death!) and because Marc thought it would be funny to name Marchosias after a shorter version of Voldemort.

*As to clear up any misunderstandings on the pairings, this will be LV/HP, not TMR/HP. This means that Marcaunon will end up with Voldemort(LV), not his son Marchosias(TMR). Marcaunon and Marchosias's relationship will be purely father-son love.*

For those who think that it's weird for Dumbledore to go along with the truth serum thingy and not defend his Lion much more fiercely, remember that Marc is his favoured employee and he trusts Marc explicitly due to his Hufflepuff nature and friendly status (even if he's currently Head of Slytherin and related to Slytherin himself). Besides, Voldemort has yet to start terrorising the public –Dumbledore has no real reason to mistrust Marc.

Now we get to see how protective and possessive of his mother Marchosias really is. Emma won't be found any time soon… Being in a body of a six–sorry, seven year old could be extremely stressful. He needs something to vent on hm? Insert evil cackle here.

Lastly, I inserted Severus, Lily and Petunia in this chapter because when I was busy browsing through Youtube, I came across a video of British people celebrating the burning of Guy Fawkes (I was looking through celebrations and holidays). I was thinking that maybe a fire would destroy a school and some transfer students could arrive for Marchosias to make friends with –and who better than those three? I actually thought about making James Potter to be one of the transfer students, but it would be weird since he's a Pureblood and would probably be homeschooled until he's eleven. Pity.

Oh yeah, before I forget… I moved Snape's generation to becoming a year younger, so they're born at the year 1961, and will be attending Hogwarts with Marchosias. Since Mini-mort's birthday is on the last day of the year, he would have to attend Hogwarts when he's reaching 12 (just like in the canon!). So yeah, I miscalculated and had to bring the Marauder generation back one year than their original age. Also, I'm making it so Petunia is Lily's half-sister, so their age doesn't have much difference, only their birthdates. Tunie's a squib since only one half of her parents came from a Wizarding family, whilst Lily on the other hand is a descendant of squibs –thus making her a First generation Pureblood. It's confusing but it will be explained further in the future.

Story recommendation for today: My Brother, the Hero: Version 2-point-0h by FalconLux. I actually preferred the first version rather than the second, but since Falcon will be updating number two, I'll have to recommend this~ This is the usual Twinfic where Harry's not the BWL(I'm unsure if it's WBWL or not). Harry isn't really neglected in this one, but… How do I put it…? He's expected to be the evil twin just because he's sorted into Slytherin and has Voldie's brother wand. I love how Falcon made Harry's character out to be, sarcastic and brilliant. LV/HP pairing. Oh I can't wait for the update. Insert twinkling eyes here.

Rainbows and Dungeons,
GenderlessPerson