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'

Christmas Special Chapter!

Date: 25 December 1975
Location: Hogwarts, Slytherin Dormitory, Chaos's room

Marchosias lay on his back with his hands behind his head, waiting impatiently for the last of his roommates to leave the bathroom. He was usually an early riser and the first to use the showers, however he had returned to the dorm early into the morning and stupidly fell asleep without setting his alarm clock. He rolled over to one side with still heavy eyelids and buried his face into his bolster – it was too comfortable and warm to be ignored.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made him perk up. Finally. He shuffled out from underneath his covers and enveloped his feet with layers of warming charms before he dared to venture out of his bed. He should really remind his mother (again) to bring in fluffy warm carpets for the winter time – the dungeon floors were just too cold for this season, or any season really.

His roommate smiled and gave him small greeting as they passed each other by, and he returned in kind, albeit a little more huskily than intended to. He firmly ignored the way his roommate had turned bright red and closed the bathroom door behind him – it wasn't his fault that his voice was deliciously sexy after waking up. Even his godfather had commented that it would be easy for him to attain a lover – not that he didn't already know that. His mother on the other hand wasn't pleased and had hugged him tightly whilst muttering about murdering any hormonal teenagers that would try to jump on his 'cute little baby boy'. Marchosias snorted at the reference.

He swiftly unbuttoned his green silk pajama top and slipped out of his clothing before stepping into the shower stand. The hot water that cascaded down his body made his muscles unwind, and he tilted his head upwards with a relaxed sigh.

He didn't know how long he was in there for, but when he was finally done, his fingertips were all pruney. He wiped himself dry and donned on his winter uniform and Slytherin robe, forgoing his shoes as per usual – he was powerful enough to make warming charms that last the whole day without tiring. Even though school was out for this day, he was still uncomfortable in wearing anything but his uniform within the walls of Hogwarts – or perhaps he was just tired of his mother's constant whining of 'you look so much cuter with onesies, Chaos dear'.

When he stepped into the Slytherin common room, all eyes were instantaneously upon his form. He withhold a sigh and strode confidently forward, intending on getting some breakfast for his visit to his mother – he might not seemed like the type, but he wanted to receive his gifts from Marcaunon and Mort without further delay. He absently fingered the onyx pendant that was given to him by his mother on his forth birthday and smiled slightly in remembrance. It was a happy occasion for him, and even if all the gifts he had received from his two guardians were useless, he would still treasure them like they were one of his Horcruxes. He suddenly scowled. Was he turning soft?

OOOO

"Good morning, Salazar." He greeted the portrait of his ancestor as he stood in front of his mother's private quarters, a paper carry bag containing food in his left hand.

"Why if it isn't young Marchosias." The elder Slytherin crossed his right leg over the other as he leaned back on his throne arrogantly – it was an endearing sight he has long gotten used to. "You're late for an early riser."

"I overslept. Is mother still in?"

"He is." Salazar suddenly gave him an amused smirk that made Marchosias's instinct scream out that something was wrong. "Along with another man."

He narrowed his ruby eyes in suspicion, not liking the way his ancestor's green orbs were shining with mirth.

"Open."

"Do try to control yourself." Was what he heard as he stepped through the portrait slash entrance.

He strode forward and just as he turned the corner, his whole body stilled. There, on the settee, was his long term antagonist, Tom Riddle, Marvolo Gaunt, or Voldemort – the man changed names depending on the situation. He bristled like a cat when his physically older self smirked in what was known to be haughtiness at Marchosias as he brought the wine glass to his lips.

"Riddle." He hissed with narrowed eyes, feeling quite satisfied when Voldemort's grip on the glass tightened – Riddle wasn't something the both of them liked to be called by. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here. One would think that a man of your stature does not have much free time – or am I wrong in thinking that you hold even a candle to your political colleagues?"

"Oh Chaos," His most hated person in the world cooed mockingly. "your painfully obvious expression of hatred brings great pleasure to my already festive spirits."

This cheeky (and not in a good way) little… Marchosias gritted his teeth in frustration and schooled his expression into one of bored indifference. His younger and much arrogant self would always cause his childish emotions to appear at the most inconvenient of times – stupid bothersome uncontrollable teenage hormones they are.

"My, you're quite bold today. Did those useless maneuvers you called schemes finally attain good results?" Voldemort's mask cracked and Marchosias grinned gleefully. "Oh wait… He thinks of you as only his cousin. Nothing more… nothing less. How pitiful. I would offer you solace, but alas, I have no sympathy for a conceited gentleman such as yourself."

The glass in Voldemort's hold shattered into a thousand pieces, and Marchosias's grin turned deranged as he watched his younger self waved a negligent hand to clean the mess he had caused, before standing up with a cold expression on his beautifully sculptured face – the same face he saw in the mirror every morning with only a few slight differences to tell them apart.

"Watch your tongue, Marchosias Gaunt. Your mother would grieve if you were to lose it due to your carelessness with words."

"And you should watch where your hands roam, lest they become affected with gangrene."

Marchosias hated the way Voldemort touched his mother. A friendly pat to Marcaunon's shoulder would turn into an intimate caress of his mother's arms – Voldemort doing the caressing and Marcaunon just smiling innocently back. It was downright infuriating to watch such a thing without being able to do anything – his mother would always give him a disapproving gaze when he openly forced his counterpart to back away via physical or Magical means.

"Mother complex." Voldemort only laughed without a hint of emotion.

He twitched, yet still maintained his gleeful grin. He could kill his younger self without much problem, seeing that he would soon be reaching his Magical majority. He was already powerful as it is, seeing that he was a reincarnated soul – adding in his vast amount of knowledge, he could literally take over the Ministry with sheer force alone.

"At least I have a mother," a low blow even for him, though totally worth it when Voldemort's lips twisted into an animalistic snarl. "and was not conceived by a love potion."

"Mark my words, Marchosias Gaunt. I will painfully kill you someday."

"And I shall grant you something far worse than even death could provide." Like forcing Voldemort into nothing but a pitiful wraith – preferably forever.

They glared at each other, both their crimson (he was beyond furious) eyes glowing with power just waiting to be released. How he wished Mana was here – he would've sicked his serpent onto his younger self. Voldemort was lucky that she was currently hibernating together with Suki inside the Chamber of Secrets – Jormy was tasked to guard them every year during winter.

"Marvolo," The exasperated voice of his mother made him school his features. It wouldn't be good to look so murderous so early in the morning after all. "have you seen where I put my glas–oh… Good morning Chaos dear. Did you have a good night's sleep?"

Marcaunon went up to him and he habitually bent forward so that he was closer to his mother's height. Marcaunon planted a kiss on his forehead and smiled lovingly at him.

"I did. And good morning to you as well, mother. I brought breakfast." He took ahold of his mother's elbow and led him away from Voldemort, and towards the small dining area – where they usually ate if they didn't want to dine at the Great Hall. "Did you sleep well?"

"Thanks, love. I'm starving. And I couldn't sleep – all nighter sadly."

"Where's your assistant? I don't see him anywhere."

"On leave. You know that his family wanted him home to celebrate Christmas." His mother sneered out the holiday as if it was something disgusting. Nothing unusual about that.

"And why is that waste of space here?"

"I don't understand your constant animosity to your uncle…"

"Because."

"Because…?"

"Just because."

Marcaunon only shook his head as if resigned, and sat down at the seat he was led to. Their dining area contained a four seater wooden table, and he sat at his mother's right. Voldemort, being the detestable person he was, followed after them and sat opposite of him to his mother's left. It was wishful thinking on his part that Voldemort would get the clue (oh Marchosias knew that bastard did) that he wasn't wanted anywhere near them.

"Pardon me for not bringing your share as well, uncle dearest." He smiled charmingly as he removed the plates of food from the paper bag. "I, after all, had no idea that you were lurking around here like a stalker."

"You need not be apologetic, Chaos. I could always share with your mother."

"I'm actually on a diet right now. So you can be eternally grateful with having half of my share."

"I prefer turkey–" Marchosias swapped his chicken wrap with Marcaunon's turkey wrap, ignoring the way his mother had closed his eyes as if praying for patience.

"And I have turkey."

They both continued to smile at one another, neither planning on giving in. He would rather die than approve of his younger self's intentions towards his mother – it was already a shock to find out that he had a counterpart in this alternate universe. Having said counterpart court his biological mother? Over his fucking dead body. It was not happening. Nope. Never. Ever.

"Do you both have to bicker like children so early in the morning?" Marcaunon sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And have you seen my glasses, Marvolo? They're missing. Again."

"We were just conversing, Marc. And no, I have not."

Marchosias snorted softly. What a liar Voldemort was. It was obvious that his counterpart had destroyed that abomination Marcaunon called glasses – which he grudgingly approved of. He tore the turkey wrap into two halves and threw (hard) one at Voldemort, who caught it with no problem. He clicked his tongue in evident annoyance and took a bite out of his wrap violently, yet still looking graceful. His younger self only smirked at him whilst Marcaunon shook his head at their antics.

"Why are you here anyway?" Being straight forward was the only way he could gain an answer from Voldemort.

"I'm merely spending Yule with my family, is that so wrong, dear Chaos?"

"Your date is what's wrong, uncle dearest. Are you growing senile?"

"I was unable to be here at the 21st. I'm sure you understand that I'm a busy person – you will soon turn fifteen after all… Though I highly doubt you're mentality is of that age just yet."

"Oh? At least I don't have an appearance of an old man." He beamed at Voldemort as he stabbed his salad with a salad fork harder than required.

"My, your eyes must be in poor condition to mistaken my youthful appearance for such. Perhaps I should help gouge your eyeballs out and exchange them for better ones?" Voldemort smiled back patiently as he used his spoon to violently scoop out a portion of mashed potatoes from Marcaunon's plate.

"Alright that's enough!" His mother sharply cut in before he could hurl yet another insult at Voldemort – the cycle of endless bickering. "Merlin… Just… Eat your breakfast."

He scowled as he nibbled the disgusting broccoli on his fork – it wouldn't be good to waste good food, no matter the horrid taste. He swallowed with a slight grimace and put his fork down, already losing his appetite just by Voldemort seating together with them.

"Where's Mort, mother?" He questioned as he lifted his beloved coffee mug to his lips.

"I haven't the faintest idea." Marcaunon hummed in thought before he continued. "Though he should be arriving soon."

Breakfast continued in that fashion, with him and Voldemort trading barbs at one another. Marcaunon just ignoring them after a few number of times trying and failing to get them to stop. When the three finally finished with their food, they made their way towards the lounge. He made sure that Voldemort was seated on the armchair whilst he and Marcaunon sat at the settee.

"Little Lord." Chaos looked over his right shoulder and raised a brow – Mort was always appearing at random moments behind the person being spoken to. "Your present."

His godfather dropped a small box wrapped in black on his lap and ruffled his hair with a gloved clad hand. He thanked the mysterious man and pocketed his gift – he was so not opening it in front of Voldemort.

"What about me?" Marcaunon said with wide puppy dog eyes.

Even though Mort's face was shadowed as usual, Marchosias just knew that Mort was avoiding looking into Marcaunon's eyes. He only spun on his heel and walked away, but not before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Meanie…" His mother pouted and huffed as soon as Mort was gone.

"I did get you something, Marc." Voldemort purred as he stood in front of Marcaunon (when did he get there!?) before leaning forward, their noses almost touching. "Though I would rather give you something bigger and more pleasurable."

A tic appeared on Marchosias's temple and he took a deep breath to keep his calm. Voldemort was just taunting him – his counterpart knew that those kinds of innuendos would lead him nowhere when dealing with Marcaunon. A medium sized rectangular box wrapped in Slytherin green was handed to his mother and Voldemort (finally!) backed off to return to his previous seat.

"Thank you, Marvolo." Mother beamed at Voldemort with a slight reddening of his pale cheeks, and Marchosias could practically see what kind of thoughts his arrogant younger self was having. "May I open it now?"

Voldemort nodded and crossed his right leg over the other, the sight similar to his ancestor's portrait, however he didn't feel even an ounce of affection for this man. His mother was careful with unwrapping the box, and only after a minute had passed did they manage to see what was inside. Marchosias shifted closer as Marcaunon took out a silver briefcase from within the box. They both looked at Voldemort with identical raised brows, however Voldemort only gestured for his mother to open said briefcase.

The silver briefcase clicked opened and both their eyes widened. Inside was filled with all sorts of weirdly shaped knives – mainly to bring forth excruciating pain rather than to cut cleanly. He blinked rapidly in disbelief and deadpanned at Voldemort. His counterpart actually gave knives used mainly for torture as a Yule present. He knew what his mother's reaction would be like and cursed his younger self to hell and back.

"Oh Marvolo… I'll be sure to use it frequently!" Marcaunon's eyes were bright with excitement as he fingered a crude looking bone knife.

"I'm glad you like it. I did have a hard time picking a present for you." Voldemort's eyes were uncharacteristically soft with fondness and Marchosias avoided looking into those crimson orbs. He knew that his own eyes turned that way when he was in the presence of Marcaunon as well. Maybe it was not only him who was turning soft around Marcaunon.

"Thank you so much, Marvolo." Marcaunon set aside the briefcase and skipped to Voldemort. He twitched violently in his seat when his mother hugged his most hated foe tightly, which was returned with eagerness.

Voldemort, that arsehole, was peering at him from Marcaunon's shoulder with a pleased expression. He gritted his teeth and glared at that bastard when those fucking hands of his shifted lower. It was time to intervene!

"Mother I have a gift for you as well."

It was an instant reaction that made Voldemort glower at him. His mother released his physically older self and skipped towards him in anticipation. He pulled his mother onto his lap and wrapped an arm around Marcaunon's waist – he needed to replace Voldemort's cooties with his. With his free hand, he took out a small sized circular box and handed it to his mother. Marcaunon immediately opened the lid, revealing a black flask bangle inside.

"It's filled with chocolate liquor. And it will refill as soon as it is empty."

"Thank you, Chaos dear. Now I can finally appease my cravings during class!" His mother wrapped those pale scarred arms around his neck and kissed his cheek in gratitude.

He shot his glowering counterpart a shit-eating grin and wrapped his arms tighter around his mother. Hah! Of course chocolate was Marcaunon's favorite thing in the world – and not even torture tools could hold a candle to his mother's incomparable sweet tooth.

"Oh I have a present for the both of you as well."

Marcaunon jumped out from his lap and took two presents from who knows where, but not before he slipped the flask bangle through his left wrist. He then plopped a crimson red wrapped box onto Marchosias's lap, before doing the same to Voldemort. "I hope you both'll like it." Marcaunon returned to his seat and beamed at them.

He unwrapped the present and blinked owlish at what was inside the box. It was a shrunken espresso maker. He took it out and waved a hand over it to return it to its original size. He tilted his head curiously and turned to his mother.

"Will this work even in Hogwarts?"

"Yess." Marcaunon nodded proudly. "I tinkered with it a little so that it works with Magic no problem."

"Thank you, mother." He smiled softly and kissed his mother's cheek in appreciation. He was glad that he could use Magic on this machinery to prepare coffee whilst he was busy with taking a shower.

He turned to Voldemort when he heard a rattling noise and almost choked at his own spit. In his counterpart's hold was a long spiked chain that could be used as a means to hold a person in place… with no way of escaping. Ever. His head mechanically turned to his mother and twitched when he saw his mother's eyes looking eagerly at Voldemort. Marchosias had once upon a time heard that a psychopath would tend to give presents that they usually would like – so if it was rejected, the gifter would get to keep said present for himself. He made a mental note to buy for his mother more restraining torture devices for his birthday.

"This could be useful for disciplining those incompetent idiots that called themselves my followers…" Voldemort murmured as he examined the spiked chain. "Thank you, love."

Marcaunon beamed, and he could see a tint of red creeping onto his mother's cheeks. He scowled. His mother may be dense, but his feelings for Voldemort were painfully obvious – even if he did say that Marcaunon liked Voldemort as only a cousin.

"You're welcome! I'll go get some eggnog." Marcaunon bounced away.

"… As much as I loathe be doing this, you are a Gaunt as well." Voldemort spoke and threw something at him.

He caught it and stared at the rectangular thin gift that was wrapped with Slytherin green, resting innocently on his palm. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He really hated how alike their thought process was.

"And I as well." He threw a circular shaped small box at Voldemort, which the man caught, and tore open the gift he had received.

He shot a look at the man as his finger traced the letter T.M.R. on the cover of a very familiar looking black diary. Was Voldemort trying to drain out his life force using the Horcrux he had made from Myrtle's death? Voldemort on the other hand, fingered the Slytherin crest cufflinks with a serene look on his face.

"That diary contains a portion of my memories when I was a teenager. If you have trouble with schoolwork, it is not shameful to ask – or in this case, write – for aid." Voldemort said slowly and stared into Marchosias's eyes for a moment before he continued. "I would ask that you not rid of it, and to keep it safe from those who wish it harm."

His hands tightened on his previous boyhood diary and struggled to keep the confusion off of his face. Why was Voldemort handing over one of his Horcruxes so easily? There was a chance that Marchosias would use it against him if he were to find out. What Voldemort didn't know however… was that he could never destroy any of the man's Horcrux – it felt wrong to destroy a piece of his own soul. So he only nodded and pocketed the diary into his shoulder book bag.

"I will guard it."

"I'm counting on you then."

They didn't thank one another, only remained uncharacteristically silent the whole time as they waited for Marcaunon.

"I'm glad to see that this place hasn't been destroyed by the both of you." Marcaunon stated airily as he came back with three goblets and a jug full of eggnog.

He chuckled and smiled as he stood up to help his mother with the heavy looking jug of eggnog. Just another ordinary year of celebrating Yule with his dysfunctional, psychopathic, yet endearing family members. And yes, he counted in Voldemort as well – only at times like this though.

A/N: There's a link to my FB group at my profile. Join if you feel like it~ Oh and, Merry Christmas everyone!

Hope you all enjoyed this Christmas Special chapter! This is also a sneak peek into the future to see the three Gaunts' relationship with one another. It might take a while for Voldemort and Marc to be together with Chaos's constant interference, but Voldie's a persistent bloke hm?

Now it's time to answer some reviews! Thank you for saying I am 'nice' and not 'evil' by the way. Buahahhaa!

Yes I… am not really good with names, so I decided to borrow some from animes – like Adalbert von Grantz (Kyou Kara Maou) and Kiriwar (Togainu no Chi). Felix is from Pewdiepie by the way Hahahaha~ It took me too long to think of a name, so I just said heck it and googled for some of my favourite characters and people. For those who are curious about the song Marc was singing, yes it's Rude and Blank Space. I just can't get them out of my mind! I mean… WHY YOU GOTTA BE SOOO RUUUDE~ It's soooooo catchy!

Now that everyone knows that Chaos is a half-Potter… What do you guys think? Isn't it ironic for him to come from a line that he loathes with all of his might? I'm sure you all know who exactly the Potter Heir is between James and Chaos. It's written in… chapter 10 if I remember correctly.

Also… I received a fanart from The-Living-Shadow, featuring Chaos in a cat onesie! It's so cute that I had to stare at it for… Well I don't really know how long I stared at it, but I was dancing in joy at receiving her fanart. The link is in my profile by the way! I did also receive a wonderful sketch of Marc as well (I squealed and almost died of a heart attack), however I am unsure if I should provide the link because the drawer is shy. So… We'll see!

Story recommendation for today: Necromancers Anonymous by The Iza. This story is about a Necromancer!Harry. Lots of humour and I guarantee that anybody will be laughing soon after they start reading. Harry is a… slightly unusual child that has an interest in dead things – and his definition of cute is a little skewered. His idea of him being the ruler of the whole world is amusing and I cannot fathom how he mixed up the definition of minion with boyfriend/girlfriends. It just cracks me up every time Draco mistook their relationship for 'boyfriends'! Anyway, this is a LV/HP fic, though it's rather slow in updating, it's worth the wait.

Rainbows and Mistletoes,
GenderlessPerson