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
Main Pairings: Harry/Voldemort (Marcaunon/Voldemort)
Side Pairings: Pending
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 11: You-Know-Who, and Disaster field trip
April 1967
Location: Slytherin Manor
Sitting near the fireplace with a glass of firewhisky in hand, Voldemort stared into the flickering flames deep in thought, the fire creating shadows around the dimly lit room. His face held no semblance of emotion, and with his too still form, one would think him a doll –a very handsome realistic one.
With elegance that many would envy, he lifted the glass to his lips –lips that many could only dream of kissing– and took a sip, relishing the burn his alcoholic beverage provided.
Abraxas seemed to have everything going well for him in his political career, and Voldemort had ordered his blonde ex-schoolmate to court the members of the Wizengamot into siding with him, and also introducing him into the world of politics. There were bills Voldemort wanted them to approve of –like Wizarding orphanages for starters.
He would be playing in both fields –politician and Dark Lord.
If the blonde were to fail his given task, Voldemort would make an example out of him, though Abraxas would only be losing a limb or two seeing that his heir was still too young to be of any real use.
Whilst still on the thought of the Malfoy family, Voldemort lips twisted in displeasure. Vevila, the Malfoy matriarch, was becoming more than a little infuriating. Every time he called his inner circle for a meeting, she would openly ogle him. It was disturbing and even after a round of Crucio, her disrespect still showed in the form of a lecherous stare.
He was tempted to mind rape her, but she still has her uses –being his Potions' Master and infiltration specialist. Her mediocre potions' skill would only worsen and he had no other followers that could best her in potions' making just yet. It was not as if his skills were inferior to hers, quite the contrary actually, but he was just too busy to brew potions all day in preparation for any injuries in the future. He made a mental note to get a list of competent Potions' Masters from Vevila the next day.
With a slight tilt of his head, a few strands of his dark locks came loose and brushed against his cheek. His long fingers tugged the wayward strands and slipped them behind his left ear smoothly as his lips formed a slight smirk at the thought of his non-human allies.
The Dementors were excited and Voldemort was slightly put off at the cause of it. He had of course made a visit to Azkaban a few weeks ago to speak with the Lord of Dementors, but the answer he received was a highly disturbing one –Master is providing us with more brothers and sisters. But since those cloak wearing positive emotion stealers were still upholding their part of the bargain (their aid in exchange for souls of those who defy him), he just shrugged it off (though still cautious) and decided that it was just a Dementor thing.
The Werewolves on the other hand were a headache to deal with. The few times he visited, he had to glare those overgrown mutts into submission when they persisted in trying to convince him that being a werewolf would only benefit him –they conveniently forgotten that he would lose his mind during the full moon, not to mention the pains of transformation. Fenrir would only bark out a hideous laugh as he watched on at the sidelines –the Alpha was carefree and would do absolutely nothing unless one of his packmates were bold enough to attack Voldemort, and vice versa of course.
They were easy to convince, seeing as they only wanted a land that they can call their own to roam free without restrictions (a reserve for when they transform), and that their kind could walk in the streets without getting killed (basically Werewolf legalization). They also wanted their young ones (that were Magical) to be able to attend Hogwarts, which he didn't mind except on one condition, they had to be locked up in the dungeons when it's the full moon –they agreed, albeit reluctantly.
Just thinking about those idiots was enough to form a headache of epic proportions. He drained his drink to clear his thoughts and just as his lips left the rim, it was refilled –disciplining his houseelves had been fun, but now they don't make even the slightest of mistakes, much to his great disappointment.
He batted away the thoughts concerning Giants, because let us all admit it, they were dunderheads and would follow Voldemort without a thought just because he had offered them their very own (giant) mountain if they were to give him assistance. After he became the ruler of the Wizarding world, it would be easy to keep his part of the bargain. Everyone knows that Giants made excellent meat shields with their thickened hides, and the Light Side would never lower themselves into casting the Killing Curse –he chuckled lowly at the thought (a very seductive sound that could send pleasurable shivers down one's spine).
He hummed as his mind drifted off to the more bloodthirsty of his allies, the Vampires. It had taken him years to court those blood suckers to his side –and he had to remain in Albania because of that. But at least he managed, and he did learn a lot of both Dark and Light Magic there. With debates and arguments that would often than not lead to bloodshed, the Vampires finally agreed to feed from blood banks –Wizard edition of course. Building a blood bank and making a rule that every Wizard and Witches were required to donate their blood weekly would definitely be enough for them (of course there would be a contract stating that the Vampires will only be using their blood for feeding, and not others such as rituals).
Vampires don't really need blood daily to sustain themselves unlike what those Mudbloods love to think (they should remove all their Muggle beliefs already once they stepped into HIS world), they just prefer it because it makes them feel alive. Those cold blooded creatures crave for warmth, similar to serpents –they're just unlucky that sunlight burns them rather than take away their coldness.
His last, but never final, non-human allies are the Goblins. Bargaining with them was simple enough (shockingly), since he knew from the start what they wanted the most. Freedom. Voldemort would allow them to run their banks independently from the Ministry, unlike those Light Wizards –especially those who are biased in thinking that non-human equals to evil.
Just the previous day, he had gathered all his non-human allies' leaders into one room and had a meeting with them. Everything was up for debate as he told them his plans for the Wizarding world –not all mind you. Everyone was agreeable (after a few glares and death threats if they were to raise their weapons) and they would be striking soon –he already made plans for raids in the very near future.
All the (nightly) planning for this year is about him gaining the title of Dark Lord, and since he's as ambitious as his ancestor, he has already made plans for the upcoming years –he'll be forming international human allies (which he already formed for some when he was traveling the world).
His smirk became feral as he cackled. War will soon arrive, and many would fear even mentioning the name of Lord Voldemort.
April 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Great Hall
Marcaunon watched his son from within the shadows, slightly disturbed at how… happy he appeared. Marchosias would usually tend to brood for reasons unknown to Marcaunon, but now, he seemed… light –there was no other wording to describe it (he was bloody bouncing in his steps for Salazar's sake!). It was downright creepy and Marcaunon wanted it to be stopped (or put a stop to it).
His scarlet eyes followed how his son's lips twitched upwards into something akin to a smug smile before it was replaced by the usual mask of boredom. How terrifying! Marcaunon shuddered. Whatever that boy's planning, it doesn't look good.
He gnawed on his lower lip as he fretted about the possibility of his son turning into a Parasite lover –which was 0.01%, but who knows!?
"Marcster." His beautiful constant companion hissed in question, his scaly nose brushing against Marcaunon's cheek in a tender way. "What ails you so? Will my venom aid?"
"I'm sure Chaos would mind being bitten, my sweet." Marcaunon smiled fondly at Suki and kissed the snake's triangular head.
"Is little Master being difficult again?"
"Not at all, pet." He stroked his companion's dark scales as his eyes lingered on his boy. "He's only… making me paranoid." Marcaunon was awfully worried at his son's change of attitude. What if he fell in love with a Mudblood attending Parasite school…? He's 77 year old and that would be called pedophilia –which Marcaunon won't accept even if his son is mini-mort!
Before he could continue with his (sorely mistaken) train of thoughts, McGonagall spotted him and decided to drag him to the head table for some breakfast –which he allowed her to since he was indeed feeling quite ravenous. Suki had returned to being his scarf, much to his amusement. His lovely pet loathes humans, with Marcaunon and Marchosias being the only exception (he was terrified of Death, like all animals were).
"What were you doing lurking in the shadows, Marcaunon?" She looked at him with disapproval as they sat at their appointed seats.
"I wasn't lurking." He retorted and gave the witch a playful glare.
"Any young lady you find fancy? Or maybe a bloke?"
"None whatsoever, Minerva." He paused in his meal to stare at her incredulously. "And why a bloke?"
"Most women prefer to have men that don't look prettier than them." He sputtered. Again with the jokes about his looks. He didn't really look that ugly… right…?
He grumbled as his colleague giggled. She continued to poke fun about his looks until Marchosias cleared his throat to point out that he needed Marcaunon's signature for a field trip. He could only stare at his boy with a 'What the fuck?' look, his eyes comically wide with disbelief.
Marchosias was always the first person to throw away any consent forms –to be free from any trips the school may have planned for their students. It was mind boggling that Marchosias, a psychopath and a sociopath, wanted to attend an excursion filled with gaggling children.
"Please tell me that that's an April fool's joke." He deadpanned.
He was given a similar deadpan in return. Marchosias didn't even deem his question worthy enough for a reply. He only paced a piece of paper in front of his mother and pointed at the blank space. Without thought and on reflex (due to years of paperwork), Marcaunon signed it, much to his horror.
Before he could erase his signature, the paper was snatched back by a smug looking little boy –oh you evil, evil reincarnated devil. Marcaunon narrowed his eyes behind his rose tinted glasses. He would get to the bottom of this phenomenon, or his name isn't Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt.
April 1967
Location: London, Aquarium
Marcaunon made a very convincing imitation of a fish out of water, before he rubbed his eyes, and became a fish some more. He just couldn't believe what he was seeing. His facial muscles spasm as he stared at the boy whom was a smaller and non-greasy version of Severus Snape.
He took a deep breath in and held it for ten seconds before releasing. Marcaunon repeated that a few more times (uselessly) before his knees wobbled and he quickly leaned onto the pillar beside him for support –his legs felt like jello.
The feeling of his nails cutting into his palm brought him back from his state of shock. He was luckily out of sight of any of Marchosias's classmates. His hands shook as he covered his mouth to contain a squeal that almost slipped out of his parted lips. Mini-Snape looked so cute –with cheeks that were still clinging to some baby fat he had and child-like doe eyes. Who would've thought that Snape's eyes were huge before he got into the habit of narrowing those orbs in irritation? Well, dunderheads could do that to people.
He hummed in thought before his face split into a shit eating grin. He schooled his expression into one of boredom –similar to Marchosias– and sauntered towards the party of four his son was in. The two girls had their backs to him, so he didn't really recognize them –but luckily they felt Magical, though the blonde felt more like a squib.
Marchosias was the first one to spot him, and Marcaunon had to force down his amusement when his stoic son actually did a double-take at seeing him here in person. Snape looked at Marchosias weirdly before he tried to turn towards Marcaunon's direction.
Tried was the keyword.
Marchosias had turned on his heel and ushered his three company away quickly without making it seemed like he was running aw–ah sorry, making a tactical retreat. His son doesn't flee after all.
Unlucky for them, their legs were shorter than his and after a few more strides, he was directly in front of mini-Snape. He smiled pleasantly (creepily) at the dark haired boy, whom took a step back in alarm, and parted his lips to speak.
"Hello." He greeted, his smile growing larger when he saw Marchosias's expression out of the corner of his eyes. "What a cute little boy… Are you perhaps Chaos's boyf–"
"What a… lovely surprise, father." Marchosias brutally cut in, his smile becoming similar to Marcaunon's. "Though I would rather have you seated behind your desk of never ending paperwork than here actually."
"Ah but Marchosias, my desk is perfectly clean of any paperwork" My eyes were practically shining behind my rose tinted glasses. "and since I needed some fresh air, I decided to go out on a stroll. You can't imagine how surprised I was to seeing my adorable son in the same location!"
"Indeed… How curious that you've decided to take a stroll in an aquarium of all places."
"Perhaps I needed a change of… ah, scenery."
They both smiled at each other pleasantly for a few minutes before their impromptu staring (glaring in Marchosias's part) contest was interrupted by one Severus Snape.
"Your father, Marchosias?" The childish voice of Snape made him snap his gaze towards the child and smiled broadly. How adorable!
"I am indeed Marchosias's father, Marcaunon Gaunt. You may call me Marcaunon or Marc for short." I extended my hand towards Snape, which he took and shook politely.
"It's nice to meet you, sir. I'm Severus Snape, your son's classmate."
"My, what a polite young man." He crouched down to Snape's eye level and smiled –though for people who are close to him, they would see it as a smirk. "Chaos should learn from you."
"… Marchosias is already polite enough, sir." Snape's cheeks were tinted with red as he ducked his head down.
Marcaunon suddenly had the urge to squeeze the future Potions' Master to death for sheer cuteness –it was illegal to be that adorable. Why couldn't Chaos be this way? He inwardly pouted at the way Marchosias behaved on a daily basis –which consisted of reading, eating, reading, and did I mention reading?
As if sensing his thoughts, Marchosias cleared his throat and glowered at Marcaunon before smiling at the two girls that were standing behind them.
"Father, let me introduce you to Lily–" He turned towards the two ladies. "and Petunia Evans."
His smile froze and he felt as if time was slowing down as he stared into his childhood tormentor –that fucking child abuser. He saw them curtsied and their lips moving, but his ears refused to cooperate with his brain. The shy blonde child in front of him overlapped with the image of a sneering Petunia with a frying pan in hand, holding it up as if she were ready to strike him at any given moment.
("You freak! If only you've had died with my whore of a sister!
"P-please aunt P-petunia… I'm hun-… I haven't e-eaten in three days…"
"Then make yourself useful and die from starvation somewhere else, boy!"
"Aunt–"
"I AM NOT YOUR AUNT! NO FREAK IS A FAMILY OF MINE!"
"B-b-but–"
"VERNON! GET THE BELT, THE FREAK IS DOING SOMETHING FREAKISH AGAIN!"
"N-no! I didn't! It's not me! I –")
OOOOO
Marchosias blinked owlishly when his mother froze at the sight of the two-legged horse –she wasn't that ugly… was she? Well, maybe she was.
His vacant eyes were staring beyond the girl's as if seeing someone else in Petunia's place. Marchosias crossed his arms when he felt his very core freezing, his breaths coming out in puffs of air –with everyone in the area looking more or less terrified of what was happening. Some were even running around in panic.
The lights flicked a few times before they darkened and the feeling of happiness (which he didn't have much so he wasn't as affected as the rest of the Muggles and his soon to be minions were) seemed to be sucked from the air –the atmosphere was colder than in the winter time and he swore to Merlin he saw frost on the aquarium glasses.
The Muggles surrounding them suddenly collapsed, one by one, as they screamed and groaned in despair –they all appeared depressed and grief stricken.
Dementors were the first thing that came into Marchosias's mind, but those cloaked creatures don't stray far from Azkaban unless they were ordered by the Ministry (or him… or the other him actually). Something in his mind clicked into place and he turned towards his mother.
The ground Marcaunon was standing on was frosted and Marchosias actually felt something similar to fear when he saw the crimson glow in his mother's eyes. Those were the eyes of someone who was enraged and full of uncontrollable anger. Someone who would let their anger control their actions to the level of insanity. Marchosias feared it like no other because that was something he experienced on a daily basis during his previous life as Voldemort.
He remembered looking into the mirror in his previous life –looking into those very same eyes every day. He saw the Evans sisters on the floor as they hugged each other for warmth and Severus already on his knees, his hands holding his head as he mumbled out incoherent words.
He stood in front of Marcaunon and cupped those soft cheeks with his (shaky) hands. Marcaunon didn't even notice him.
"F-father." He called out uselessly. "Mother… mother, stay with me!"
Suki slithered on him in a hurry and when the snake coiled around him, he felt the poor snake's freezing body. He whispered a warming charm under his breath for his two cold blooded companions and hissed reassurance to them.
"Mother! Mum! Please… Please come back to me. Don't lose your sanity… Why are you even losing it in this type of place, mum!? What has you so distressed…?"
He gnawed his bottom lip, knowing what he'll have to do. A butterfly landed on his hair.
"Fetch Mort."
If a butterfly could salute, it would've done so. Rather, it burst into blueish particles and not before long, Mort's inky black portal appeared, followed by said person. There were no words exchanged as the man rushed towards them.
"What happened?" His godfather demanded as he touched Marcaunon's shoulder tenderly. His mother suddenly went limp and fell into Mort's awaiting arm.
"Mum suddenly froze when he saw Petunia–"
He was cut off.
"I understand. Act as if this has never happened." Mort raised a hand and without further ado, snapped his fingers. Marchosias felt a wave of unknown Magic wash thorough the whole aquarium and the surrounding became normal again, though everyone's eyes were glazed. "I've already altered their memories. I'll be taking Master back to our cottage for today."
"Is mother…?"
"He'll be fine. Keep a butterfly with you at all times, it'll take you back to the castle by your command –better than any portkey."
He could only stare as Mort walked through the inky portal with his mother carried bridal style. What happened? Why did Marcaunon react negatively when he saw Petunia? Did they have history together? Why did it feel as if his mother was a Dementor? Who the hell is Marcaunon Gaunt –why wasn't he there in his first life?
Why was his mother such a bloody enigma!?
OOOO
"Are you well now, Master?"
Marcaunon sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.
"I am. Thank you for that, Death. I would've murdered that bitch the very moment I came out from my memories."
"Give me an order and I'll make her disappear."
"I'll do it myself, Death, but not yet. I need her alive for Dudley to be born." He got up from Death's lap and smiled bitterly at the immortal being. "It seems like my emotions are harder to control in the face of my tormentors than I had originally thought."
"Marchosias will want answers." Death paused before It continued. "I apologize for not altering his memory, Master. A master Occlumens would know something is amiss even if he can't break free of my alternation."
"He will, won't he?" He murmured. "Don't worry about it, I've got it covered."
"He'll find out soon enough, Master. He's Tom Riddle after all."
"I know… But I'll prolong the inevitable as much as I can." Marcaunon turned away from the entity as he closed his eyes tightly. "I'm not ready to be hated by him just yet, Death."
A/N: More like rants. Insert sweatdrop here.
Well… I am ashamed to say due to my sleep deprived carelessness, I accidently deleted the whole chapter that I've already fully edited. I was so shocked that I stared at my laptop's screen for an unknown duration of time before I let out a blood curling scream of despair. Yes, it was so loud that it woke my brother up (and he's a heavy sleeper that could sleep through tons of alarm clocks). I was so devastated that I could only brood all day and night, trying and FAILING to recall the proper contents to this chapter.
Anyway, on to the lighter side of things, I managed to piece everything together to form a… somewhat close enough chapter to the original. Yay… though with lesser words. Damn it! At least we now get to see what Voldster's been doing! Insert grin here.
I thank you all for the reviews and I hope to see many more from you!
For those who are asking about Marchosias's pairing… I am unsure and hesitant in giving him one. Perhaps I could put up a poll for when he's older or something. Maybe I'll even make Lucius/Chaos just to annoy everyone! Gehehe! But for now, I'll be concentrating on the main pairing… which has yet to even start!
Oh and I'll be putting up a [Torture Warning] next time before I do a torture scene, since we all have different tastes. Those are usually not important to the plot anyway –it's my way of venting my inner sadist.
For those who really can't take my grammar, use your mind to reform the sentences/words so that it'll be up to your standards (I do that to some other fics with really horrible grammar… I'm a hypocrite gehehehe!). I am not planning on getting a beta anytime soon.
Story recommendation for today: Of Sin and Blasphemy by Of Stories Told. This fic was actually the one that gave me the idea of making Harry becoming Tom's biological father. It was something I've read a long time ago so I didn't really remember the title of said story to put it in my prologue. Only when I was browsing through my 'alerts' section did I spot it. This fic is post-war, and Harry is pregnant with… Voldemort's child or reincarnation –I still have yet to figure it out but I'm betting on the latter. I am unsure of the pairing, but young Tom seemed to be overly possessive over Harry, so I'm guessing that it'll be incest (I don't know!). Contains MPREG so if you're not into guys being pregnant, don't bother reading this –though it's kind of like a onetime occurrence.
Rainbows and Mermaids,
GenderlessPerson