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 Pairing: HP/LV (Marcaunon/Voldemort – not Chaos)

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 16: Chance Encounters

Date: 01 May 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Marcaunon's study

Marchosias sighed in disappointment as he has yet again failed to locate anything regarding his biological father. He closed his mother's desk drawer harder than intended due to the sheer frustration he had accumulated, and crossed his arms in thought as he leaned against the huge parchment filled desk.

The Goblins were out. Blood rituals were out. Ancestry potions were out. Britain's pureblood lords were out. Family tree tapestry was out. Asking his Godfather would be a useless waste of time on both their parts. The Gaunts had no other survivor except his other, younger yet physically older self, and Marchosias refused to believe that he was born from an incestuous relationship – Marcaunon wasn't the type that would fuck his own brother or father.

He raked a hand through his hair and pushed himself off the desk. Perhaps he could take a walk around to cool his head off – and to get more ideas of course. He knew that that slut Vevila would be searching for him soon, so he made haste as he wandlessly summoned the floo powder that was on the mantle of the fireplace (he would be taller than the damn fireplace soon) and threw a handful before stepping inside.

"Leaky Cauldron."

He stepped out from the pub's fireplace with no difficulty on his part, and wandlessly yet subtly vanished all the soot that had made home onto his clothing – no animal onesies thankfully, only a dark red shirt with a form fitting dark vest and pants. Even though he was feeling quite sullen, he schooled his features into one of carefree innocence with practiced ease and strode towards the entrance of Diagon Alley, intending on searching for other's misfortune – he wasn't shy to say that he was the type of person who took pleasure in the sorrow of others.

He stood in front of the entryway and just as he was about to tap the access pattern on the bricks with his finger, a man cleared his throat behind him to gain Marchosias's attention. He hid his irritation by smiling shyly up at the man. The man however froze in his place as his hazel eyes widened just a fraction. Marchosias didn't expect such a reaction but assumed that this was one of his mother's many acquaintances that didn't know of his existence – he did look eerily alike Marcaunon after all.

"Yes mister?" he tilted his head to the side cutely and forced his eyes to widened as if to show pure innocence on his part.

Whilst the man was busy gaping at Marchosias, his ruby eyes roamed the tall figure before him. He has short messy dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and was definitely well-build. The man looked to be in his middle to late thirties judging by the wrinkles carved into his face. There was a ring on his ring finger, proudly displaying that the man was married. Perched on his nose however was a circular framed eyeglass that was eerily similar to Harry Potter's. It made his blood boil just thinking about the brat that was listed on the top of his hit list before he firmly reeled in his hatred and anger. This wasn't Potter (he spat the name with acid even in his mind) for Morgana's sake. Just someone who looked eerily similar to that undying brat.

"Eh…" The Potter-look-alike cleared his throat once more before he smiled down at Marchosias. "Were you separated from your parents, little boy?"

"Daddy told me to wait for him at Flourish and Blotts, but I got curious and entered Leaky. Please don't tell him!" His eyes automatically watered and he stared up at the man with obvious guilt. Oh how he loathed using such a degrading form of manipulation, but alas, little boys were unable to charm adults without the victim appearing as though they were pedophiles.

"Fear not little one, we'll just have to keep this a secret from your… daddy then." The way the stranger said daddy was odd, and Marchosias stored it into his mental files just in case. "Though let's get you back to Flourish before your daddy finds out."

"But… Daddy told me not to follow strangers." He crossed his arms like a petulant child and gave the man an adorably pouty but suspicious glare.

"And your daddy is right… However I am no stranger." The man smiled and patted Marchosias's head as if he were a puppy. The temptation to cause harm, and maybe maim this fool was high but he continued his act. "I'm Charlus Potter, a… friend of your daddy's."

He inwardly grimaced at his streak of bad luck. No way in hell will he bloody go with a Potter of all people!

…That was what he would've preferred anyway, however he was curious as to his mother's and this man's relationship. Potter didn't conceal the guilty expression on his face quick enough when he had said friend.

"Really?" He drew closer and tugged on Potter's robe sleeve childishly as he peered into Potter's hazel eyes. "But why didn't daddy say anything about you?"

The man winced and in that very moment, he brushed against Charlus's outer layer of thoughts. The man's mind shields were moderate at best, but he wasn't called the most feared legilimens even in his younger days for nothing – the man wouldn't even feel anything unless Marchosias prodded deeper.

Marchosias's discovery almost made him AK the man that very instant. Oh he had other plans for this fucker rather than to grant him a quick and painless death.

Charlus trailed kisses onto the body of a slender and pale young man with messy dark hair, his hazel eyes not once leaving hesitant scarlet as he parted his bed partner's legs widely.

…

He forced the body beneath him to turn and pulled the pale man's waist up so that his rear was bared. He licked his lips in excitement and kneaded the rounded globes before him – he could feel his strained member wanting desperately to enter such a beautiful body.

…

"You want more don't you, you damn whore?" He huskily asked as he thrust deeper into the tight body, relishing in the moans the pale man beneath him let out. He observed how his one night stand had his hands gripped tightly (knuckle white) onto the sheets, and he whispered words into his bed partner's ear – words that he didn't know had hurt this man more than he knew.

"Scream for me."

…

He turned the pale man over and stared into the tear stained, yet deliciously blushing face. He smirked at the thought of him having the chance to dominate such a beautiful man and thrust in harder than entirely necessary, loving the sound of excited (pained) moans that this whore was giving him.

…

"S-stop…"

"I…know you love…this."

"N-no p…please… Ah!"

"You like that? You little slut…"

…

He caressed his bed partner's soft and silky dark locks, fascinated by how sexy this pale man was even when unconscious. He shook his head to rid of his dirty thoughts and quickly donned on his attire – he had to get back home to fetch his wife for their marriage anniversary soon.

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

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

Marchosias only blinked rapidly at the tragic news of him being a half-Potter (and Harry's fucking future uncle), not wanting to show any outward reaction that may bring forth suspicion – now was really not the time to be hysteric over his current body's sperm donor! He pushed the disturbing thoughts out of his mind. He had other things to think about, like how Charlus Potter had practically forced himself onto his (very unwilling) mother. Marcaunon would've never cried even under immense torture, his mother's pain tolerance was off the charts, so it was obvious that his mother didn't want Potter's fucking dick inside of him!

This fucking Potter however didn't stop even when he knew that deep inside, Marcaunon had wanted the man to stop. He just kept going because he was too sexually aroused – no consideration about his partner's, even if it was only for one night, pain and discomfort at all. Yes Marchosias was mentally scarred at seeing his mother with a dick shoved inside his arse, but this situation at hand took higher priority – he was already considered insane during his reign once upon a time after all. A little more mental scarring won't hurt him.

His blood boiled as his murderous intent spiked up to massive levels, however on the outside, he continued to smile innocently at the man, who had offered his hand to Marchosias with a kind smile. He took said appendage and walked with a skip in his step as if he was an excited child on a trip to a candy store.

Charlus Potter would rue the day he touched Marchosias's mother that way – Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt was his. His eyes narrowed dangerously and if anybody were to take a proper look into them, they would've fled the minute his ruby orbs had changed into crimson – madness was the only emotion that was recognizable, and they would've undoubtedly compared Marchosias Mort Gaunt to a beast hunting for blood.

Date: 01 May 1967
Location: Malfoy Manor, Conference room

The meeting proceeded soon after the man, whom Marcaunon wish wasn't who he knew that man was, sat at the head seat. Panic clawed at him, threatening to show on his face, however Marcaunon only rolled his shoulders as if to reduce an ache and thank Merlin that he actually wore a mask for this alias – he contradicted himself but his identity as a Gaunt was of a greater importance than eating (delicious looking) snacks.

"Gentlemen – and you as well, my Lady," His voice was that of a rich baritone, and Marcaunon saw Engel quiver from the corner of his eyes – perhaps in fear? "I thank you all for taking the time off your busy schedules to attend this meeting. I am called Voldemort, and I will be the future employer of my chosen two from this selection."

Marcaunon swallowed inaudibly at the confirmation that yes, this was Voldemort and not just a mere doppelganger. The others had no idea of what they were getting into – whichever two who were to be chosen would be marked for life. And he meant for life. The Dark Mark was so deeply engraved into a person's arm and Magical core, that any intention of cutting said arm would cause excruciating pain far worse than that of the Cruciatus curse – it may even lead to insanity.

How he now regretted Ignatius's fabricated trait of accepting shady job offers that seemed interesting and challenging enough. After this proposition was done and over with, he would head straight back to the guild master and announce that Ignatius Rose was on hiatus for an undetermined amount of time… but first, he would need to retrieve his invitation card from the guards – his Magical signature that was inserted into said card could be traced back to him.

"Are there only two vacancies?" Kiriwar asked with a confident grin as he crossed his arms over his muscular chest.

"Indeed." Voldemort took out a quill, an inkpot, and a folder from who knows where and placed it atop the table in front of him. "Now if each of you were to inform me of the reasons as to why you were recommended by your guild master, Jellal, I would be most pleased."

Alright, a chance has presented itself. His acting was top notched and he could downplay his skills without much suspicion. Voldemort's eyes landed on Iunius first, and he took out a blank parchment from within the folder. The pot belly man seemed to get the hint as he brushed the crumbs off of his robe before speaking.

"I am called Iunius. I've been a Potions' Master for… 17 years. I created many Temperature Protection potions, as well as boil cures. I specialize in health potions."

The chubby man's length of experience did not fulfil to his achievements good enough for him to stand out amongst his rivals. Many competent Potions' Masters would be able to achieve much more in seventeen years. Marcuanon mentally crossed Iunius out from the list and gnawed his bottom lip worriedly – the rest would hopefully be better to gain the attention of Voldemort. Hopefully.

"People call me Kiriwar. Two years since I became a Master. I created the Night vision eye drops. My specialty lies in Perception Increase potions."

Perception Increase potions were definitely difficult for even Masters to brew. If they were to even stir in the incorrect direction, the results could prove harmful to the user. They could turn blind, or deaf, or mute, or all three actually. He mentally highlighted Kiriwar's name on his list, however his attitude could use some work.

"Felix Weasley. Four years since I've attained my Mastery. I created the Nightmare potion, and I also enhanced the Aging potion to last slightly longer. I specialize in mind effect concoctions."

Now this was a (pleasant) surprise. Albus would be weeping right about now if he were to find out that one of his beloved Weasleys had created such a deadly potion – the creator of these types of potions were normally only known by the guild master of the creator's guild. The Nightmare potion was mainly used for mental torture since its time of creation, and even after decades had passed by, it was still a popular choice for Dark Wizards – especially Death Eaters. He had to give credit to this man – definitely someone who will be hired, even if he was from a Light oriented family.

"Engel Souen!" Engel's face was beet red as she stared dreamily at Voldemort – Marcaunon was briefly reminded of Luna. Maybe Engel was a seer as well as a Potions' Mistress? "I have twenty years of experience in being a Potions' Mistress, and my most accomplished enhancement was Amortentia – my recipe prolongs the potion's effects. My specialty is creams – anti-wrinkle creams, skin bleach creams, and fat-burning creams to name a few."

Marcaunon blinked owlish at the only woman in the room before he crossed her name from the list instantly – even if it was pretty impressive of her to enhance such a delicate potion, Voldemort hated Amortentia more than anything in the world (for Chaos it had to be Harry Potter though). The future Dark Lord was born from his mother dosing his father with Amortentia after all.

He idly wondered how old Engel was underneath all that makeup of hers – probably older than Iunius. Marcaunon could never cease to be amazed at how women were similar to metamorphmagus with their makeups. But twenty years of experience in making beauty products… Now she was definitely someone who would die with youthful, wrinkle free features.

"Adalbert Grantz. It's been six years since I held my Masters' certificate. My specialty lies in hair potions. I enhanced the Eye-correction eye drops as well as the Pepperup potion."

He shook his head slightly at the blonde – do all blondes have hair obsessions? He recalled the time when he sneaked into Malfoy Manor and swapped all (there was a room specifically for hair products) their branded hair products with hair thinning potions. That day, he was hunted down like a criminal by the entire Malfoy family. It was one of the still fond memories he had of his own ruined world.

Although the Malfoy family would love nothing but to hire Adalbert, Marcaunon was unsure if Voldemort was the type to be caught up with his looks – he did after all sacrifice them for immortality. Adalbert Grantz was crossed out from his mental list as well. Voldemort would undoubtedly be hiring Felix and Kiriwar – they were the most beneficial to his cause.

"You're next whitey." Kiriwar grinned roguishly and slouched forward onto the table. He mentally rolled his eyes at the uncouth bloke.

"Ignatius Rose." He drawled with boredom. There were a few sharp intakes of breaths, but he ignored them – it was an expected reaction. "I attained my Mastery last year–"

"Prove that you're actually Ignatius Rose and not someone pretending to be him." Kiriwar gave him a dangerous grin with narrowed eyes – eyes that were filled with jealousy and denial.

"I created the Liquid Happiness or Felix Laetificans." He continued as if Kiriwar had not said anything. He saw the man twitch at being ignored and only smiled smugly underneath his mask –getting onto other people's nerves was a trait and hobby of Ignatius Rose… though they amuse Marcaunon as well.

"I've yet submitted any enhanced potions before, and I am still unsure about my specialization due to my inexperience." There. He was definitely not getting the job now – nobody would hire someone without previous experience in enhancing and no specialty whatsoever.

Everyone was silent for a moment before Kiriwar stood up angrily with his hands slammed against the tabletop – quite forcefully he might add.

"He's definitely a fake! Ignatius Rose's specialty is potions creation – everyone in the guild knows that! It's common knowledge!" Kiriwar barked and glowered at him with hateful eyes.

Marcaunon wondered if the roguish man was a fan of his – many of the Department of Inventions personnel were sorely disappointed when they found out that he was indeed Ignatius Rose, mainly due to his arrogant demeanor and his habit of talking over someone he deemed unworthy. He only studied his nails with bored scarlet eyes, knowing that this would further irk the hot tempered male further.

"Hey! Are you listening to me, huh!?"

Kiriwar's voice softened and became background noises to Marcaunon, as they entered his right ear and exited his left almost instantly. He idly thought back to what his little Chaos was doing – the little tyke was definitely bored out of his mind, and a bored Chaos was a destructive Chaos. Marcaunon hoped that his bedchambers would still remain intact after he had returned from this uneventful meeting. He didn't know why that child wanted to know who his fath–

"Whitey! Hey! Don't ignore me you bloody–"

–er was badly. It wasn't as if his son's sperm donor was important, and Marcaunon would rid of Charlie soon enough. He was just delaying the inevitable because of all the paperwork that had accumulated whilst he was busy with something far more important. That was the only reason. It was not like he was avoiding his one night stand. Pssh. Like real. He sighed at his thoughts and absentmindedly scratched Suki's head. Maybe he should order Death to kill that bastard?

"It would be wise of you to take a seat, Mr. Kiriwar… Before I lose more of my patience." Voldemort's sharp and cutting tone brought him back from his inattention and he focused back to the meeting.

Kiriwar reluctantly sat back down, however he continued to bore holes into the side of Marcaunon's head. He expertly and with practiced ease disregarded Kiriwar's attempts of murdering him with the glare of a basilisk's, and lowered his head slightly. It made his fringe fall into his eyes, and even though he could still partially see, it was better than nothing – his heart was hurting with guilt (something he previously thought he had discarded) every time he looked at Voldemort. It was ultimately Harry Potter's fault for killing the Dark Lord and dooming his world into a desert wasteland.

A parchment soon appeared in front of each of them, and they picked it up to read. Marcaunon blinked at what was written on it before he looked up, only to regret it a second later. Voldemort was staring at him intently, and it made his heart beat faster if that was even possible – as if he was experiencing cardiac arrest. He loathed the feeling and wondered if Voldemort would cover his face with a paper bag if Marcaunon were to ask nicely.

"Pardon me for asking, but have we met before, Mr. Rose?" Voldemort whispered softly to him whilst the others were still busy with reading their parchment, those narrowed crimson eyes taking in every detail of his reactions.

"I'm sure I would've remembered someone as charismatic as you, Mr. Gaunt, if we were to have met before." He whispered back after a second, and made sure that his hands were nowhere near his mask – people tend to cover or scratch their lips when they tell a lie. He needed to time his answers perfectly so that he would not appear suspicious in Voldemort's eyes – instant replies would convince Voldemort that he was lying, whilst delayed replies obviously meant that he was making shite up.

Voldemort only continued to gaze at him attentively. He was beyond unnerved at this point and decided to pull the man's wondering thoughts into getting back on track.

"May I ask for an explanation regarding this?" He spoke louder so that everyone would be able to hear his question, and tapped the parchment gently with a sharpened black polished nail.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed slightly at him (calm down heart!) before he blinked and looked away – it reminded him eerily of Chaos. He was barely able to contain in his relieved sigh at having those crimson orbs away from him.

"Certainly. I require all of you to brew the potion written on your respective parchments. This will allow for me to access your practical skills."

"How long do we have?" Iunius asked as he rubbed his stubble chin in thought.

"However long you may require. I have already prepared a lab for each of you." Voldemort stood up and waved them to do the same, which they did. "You will each be observed by my men."

"You think we will cheat?" Kiriwar sneered as he tilted his head slightly upwards, as if looking down on Voldemort.

"Just standard precautions." Voldemort might have seemed nonchalant to the eyes of strangers, but Marcaunon had known him long enough to know that Voldemort was putting in effort to rein back his temper due to Kiriwar's unmarked status – it wouldn't be good to scare of potential minions after all.

The crimson eyed man turned on his heels and moved further into the conference room where a dark, almost unnoticeable door was at. They followed behind Voldemort and after they have entered, noticed that there were six more doors – their respective names already carved onto each door.

Voldemort only smiled charmingly as he waved for them to enter their designed labs.

OOOO

He crossed his right leg over his other as he flipped through yet another magazine he had brought with him just in case – people tend to stop trying to talk to him once he pretended to be reading intently. He had finished his potion, Veritaserum, ages ago. However he knew that an average person would take more than just fourteen days to brew such a complex potion. Twenty eight days, or one lunar phase, was the usual amount of time needed for completion for most, if not all.

After he had walked into the lab he was provided with, he ignored his examiner and summoned one of his beloved butterflies to give Death a message to pass onto Chaos, and his son to Albus. Vevila would likely be substituting his classes until his task was completed, and he knew that Albus would understand because Potions' Masters usually accepted a job or two from their guild every year – Slughorn was the same of course.

Chaos though… He was worried about his son. His butterfly came back only after a week had past, and reported to him that Chaos had returned to Dormus Mortem covered with layers of blood on him. He had all but ordered for the butterfly to keep an eye on Chaos, and to report back to him if there was something amiss.

Fifteen days had passed and he was utterly bored out of his mind. He had casted a Confundus Charm on his examiner, and it made the Death Eater (mask and all) a little dazed and unresponsive… Fine, a lot dazed and totally unresponsive. Again, he should emphasize how bad he was at mind arts – legilimency was easy to him because he just had to shatter all their shields and basically mind rape them. He would think of something afterwards of course – he did not know whether or not this particular Death Eater was important, and he did not want to take any risk.

"Thirteen days to go…" He murmured solemnly as he ran a hand through his still bleached white hair. "Thirteen days until I am able to remove this bloody god forsaken mask off of my face."

His whole body twitched when his nose begun itching yet again. If only he could just… scratch… that… itch…! He slammed his hands onto the stone table, which had scattered empty glass bottles on it as well as his finished truth serum, and stood up from his seat. His mask was definitely something to be thrown into his fireplace afterwards.

Perhaps he could do something else, other than reading, to busy his mind with. Making another batch of Veritaserum was out, since Voldemort only provided the necessity amount for one bottle, and conversing with Suki was also out in case someone overheard them.

"Why you gotta be so rude?~ Don't you know I'm human too?~ Why you gotta be so rude?~ I'm gonna marry her anyway~" He sang softly as he crouched down with his elbows rested firmly on his kneecaps whilst he observed his familiar, strangling a rabbit he had pulled out from his emergency supply bag, with boredom.

... Parasite songs were so catchy even after a century has passed by – Magicals should really improve their music standards.

"Nice to meet, where you been? I could show you incredible things~" He chuckled at Suki as the serpent gave an impression of a glare when Marcaunon begun poking the rabbit that was halfway through his familiar's jaws.

"Magic, madness, heaven, sin… Saw you there and I thought… Oh my God, look at that face~ You look like, my next mistake~ Love's a game, wanna play?~"

"I sincerely hope that you're only taking a break, Mr. Rose."

He was instantaneously a few steps away from his previous spot, twirled around, and in a stance with his right arm horizontally across his chest and his left tucked sharply backwards – both hands held daggers that were pointed to the intruder as if preparing for an instant kill.

He only managed to stiffen further when he recognized the intruder to be Voldemort, who had his head tilted to one side. He recognized the gesture as one of Chaos's unconscious habit he always exhibited when intrigued. Marcaunon forced his body into a relaxed state as he straightened up after hiding his daggers up his sleeves.

"I am." He murmured and shifted subtly to stand in front of his finished concoction.

Voldemort's sharp eyes followed his backwards steps up until his back touched the stone table, and with no further prompting needed, the future Dark Lord stalked forward. Marcaunon held his ground as his cousin stopped just in front of him, Voldemort's chest almost touching his unmoving (frozen actually) body. He flinched when a pair of long arms trapped him against the table, and shifted shyly away from those arms that touched his sides – or tried pointlessly in this case.

He mentally soothed himself into believing that he only felt unbearable with Voldemort's close range due to his Ignatius Rose's dislike for human contact persona, not because Marcaunon himself was feeling impossibly unnerved.

Did Voldemort figure out that Ignatius Rose was only an alias? Why was the future Dark Lord standing so close to him? Did the man want to intimidate him with his bigger and taller frame? All these questioned that raged through his mind made him almost sneer at how pathetic he was being – he was not someone to be intimidated that easily. He was the Master of Death, an immortal person with unlimited amount of power.

Marcaunon narrowed his eyes into a dangerous glare as he tilted his head upwards (he only reached Voldemort's shoulders) to meet the man's gaze. Just as he parted his lips to demand the man to back the fuck off (politely of course), Suki reared his head up and bared his venomous fangs at Voldemort.

"Despicable two legged hairless monkey! How dare you touch my Marcster so casually!?" He almost chocked on his own spit when Suki called Voldemort a frickin hairless monkey of all animals. Voldemort on the other hand, only raised an elegant brow as he made an amused sound from the back of his throat. "Shall I sink my fangs into this insolent two legged, Marcster?"

Marcaunon only blinked without even a hint of comprehension to what his familiar had voiced out. Ignatius wasn't a Parselmouth, so he should not be able to hear anything other than incoherent angry hisses. Hopefully his familiar would get the clue and keep those jaws firmly shut – why he didn't take precaution to inform Suki not to speak to him was a mistake on his part. Mad-eye would've been sorely disappointed in him if that one-legged man were to find out.

Voldemort ignored the irritated snake and reached behind Marcaunon before he took a step back. This however did not reassure him nor did it make his shoulders relax. In his cousin's right hand was his finished bottle of Veritaserum. The man surveyed the glass bottle for a moment as he hummed lowly in thought.

"It took you fifteen… no… less than fifteen days to complete such a potion. I would've declared it impossible if it were done by anyone other than you, Mr. Rose."

Marcaunon didn't know how to reply to that, so he only gave a clueless expression, or tried to – his mask was still very present on his face.

"Also, I do have to ask about what you did to my… employee over there." Voldemort gestured towards the dazed Death Eater.

He weighed the pros and cons of telling the truth before he sighed and patted Suki's head soothingly to calm the serpent. It would be useless to lie about the Death Eater's condition. Voldemort would undoubtedly be fixing his minion afterwards and find out what Marcaunon did anyway.

"A Confundus charm gone wrong I'm afraid." He indifferently stated as he shrugged his delicate shoulders. "I dislike being watched whilst I work."

Voldemort gave a lingering glance at his minion before he turned on his heels and headed towards the door, but not before demanding that Marcaunon follow. He gathered his familiar onto his shoulders and fell in step behind Voldemort, feeling dread radiating from his gut.

A/N: There's a link at my profile if you wish to join my FB group.

…Ok fine I admitted that I intentionally delayed Voldemort's chapter intro because I was on a sadistic streak. I'll stop being so cruel and evil (as you all so eloquently put it) and make it so that MoD!Harry with insanely amount of power and able to enter Death's realm to transport himself anywhere… conveniently forget said power. See? I'm so nice! Tell me I'm nice!

I can't believe it! I actually hit the 4 digit number for followers! Oh Merlin! When I posted this fic, I only estimated that I would only get a maximum of 200 ~ 300 followers. You know… bad grammar and all… But I think I improved quite a lot (maybe…perhaps…). I really thank you all for supporting me, and for those who asked me how long this fic will be… I'm not really sure. I didn't know that my average per chapter would be 4k words, so I guess it's a lot?

Story recommendation for today: Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus by The Carnivorous Muffin. This fic has tons of humor in it. As much as I hate reading Fem!Harry, I love Muffin's writing style too much to ignore such an awesome fic just because Harry's a female. Lily (Harry's counterpart) thinks that magic is a glitch and that the voice in her head is called Wizard Lenin, who is a revolutionist and not a Dark Lord. She visits Death (the original Harry) every Sunday and in order to visit him, has to kill herself. No she's not suicidal, she just loves visiting her uncle Death. I think there's time travel inside if my theory is right, but who knows? Still thankfully ongoing. TMR/FemHP pairing. AU. Death!Harry and Death!Lily.

P.S. I just noticed that I should've recommended Holiday Spirit during a Christmas chapter on the 25th… Grrrr…

Rainbows and Encounters,
GenderlessPerson