After Cyrus's display and the wand-maker's grave warning, Snape seized the boy around the wrist and pulled him along none too gently across the threshold of the shop.

"Hey! Let go of me!" Cyrus exclaimed, struggling and squirming trying to get out of the older man's grip.

A loud cracking sound filled the air as the duo disapparated. Cyrus's ears rung, not from the sound of disapparating, but the haunting feral screams that they had left behind. He had no time to regain his bearings however as the back of his neck tingled.

Danger!

The professor grabbed him again and they vanished once more. The screams, the feral intensity had followed them and they were much closer this time. The game of hunter and prey would continue as teacher and student made random jumps across the country. The monsters would follow each and every time and through the screaming and the overwhelming sense of dread and fear the boy could make out a singular word.

Hydrus.

They had finally came to a stop in some sort of spacious wooden cabin. As soon as his feet found solid ground Cyrus vomited violently all over the expensive looking hardwood floor, bile burning in his throat as he had nothing in his stomach to throw up. He continued to retch and cough for a while, occasionally wiping the reflexive tears away that came with being sick. After a few minutes the young wizard had finally collected himself and turned to look at the professor that had brought him to this place.

Except the man standing before him wasn't Snape at all. Being short of stature, with thinning facial hair, sickly pale skin, and clouded eyes the man looked exactly like-

"Mars? What the fuck?" Cyrus's voice was scratchy and raw.

"Hey kid. I know you're wondering what's going on and I promise to answer any questions you have, after you get some rest." Cyrus could only stare at the man as anger and betrayal churned within him. His anger burned, and burned transforming into fury. His hands started to shake, his eye twitched, and his head made sporadic jerking motions.

There was a brief moment of silence.

Cyrus lounged as he screamed, sounding eerily similar to screams they had escaped from. His magic rushed through his body like a water would a broken damn, boosting his physical attributes, and when he lashed out it was with all the combined speed and strength of ten men.

GONG! He had slammed face first into a translucent blue barrier that Mars had cast preemptively. The boy was not to be deterred however and he slammed his fist into the shield over and over again until with a horrible sound he broke his hand upon it. Even then that could not stop his mad high as more power flowed through him, overriding his pain and common sense and as he broke his other hand still trying to smash his way through it. Despite the pain, the rush wouldn't end and Cyrus began to slam his head into the shield, desperate to reach the man on the other side, his rage completely murderous.

Mars could only watch as Cyrus completely succumbed to the Black Madness that was so prevalent on his mother's side of the family. The Madness was a tricky beast that many members of the Black family had to either overcome or succumb to. It provided an addictive endorphin rush and boosted the rate of mana flow throughout the bloodstream, meaning the witch/wizard in question had a lot more access to their hidden depths of power. It came with a terrible trade off; however, important aspects of human intelligence went right out the window. Things like, impulse control, long and short-term decision making, and self preservation.

The older wizard could have restrained the boy at any time but didn't, purposely. Cyrus needed to know of the strength of the Madness, needed to crave the addictive adrenaline rush that came with it. Things had to happen this way. So even as the boy continued to throw himself at his shield, Mars did nothing but watch.

The boy's madness had only lasted about two minutes or so before his body failed him, unable to concentrate Cyrus couldn't hold onto the feelings that had triggered the episode and the magic that flowed filled every inch of him dried up. He reared his head back in an attempt to headbutt the barrier once more but fell and landed on his back, totally unconscious.

With a flick of his wand Mars levitated the boy to the living room and lowered him gently onto the loveseat. "Ossis reparo." Mars made several passes over the boy's fingers and wrists with his wand as the healing magic repaired most of the damage the young wizard had done to himself. From the pocket of his robes he withdrew a phial filled with a aint glowing green potion. Wiggenweld, a powerful restorative that would fix any damage he may have missed and would cure the concussion the Cyrus had no doubt given himself.

After pouring the potion down the boy's throat Mars collapsed into the luxurious leather recliner adjacent from where Cyrus slept with horrible wet coughing. Using so much magic today had taken its toll on him as his body had been failing him for quite some time. That didn't matter to Mars however, the sacrifices he had made were well worth it. He relaxed into his chair and closed his eyes, intent on catching some sleep while he could.

Cyrus woke with a groggy start. He groaned as he sat up feeling incredibly lethargic.

"How do you feel?" The boy looked to his side and instantly the memories came rushing back. His lips pulled back in a snarl, reflexively.

"How do I feel!? How do I feel!? I feel like you fucking lied to me for several years. I feel like I should kick your ass! That's how I feel." Cyrus struggled to sit up, desperately trying to call upon the strange power he used yesterday, hungry for the strength it gave him.

"You're right. But I assure you it was for your own good, and if you sit still and promise to listen I'll answer your questions." Cyrus got into a comfortable position, crossed his arms, and glared spitefully. "Who are you really? And why are you so interested in me? And what do you mean for my own good.?"

Mars snapped his fingers and a frosted glass filled amber liquid appeared as if out of thin air. The man took a long sip before he spoke.

" My name is Rodolphus Lestrange and I can see the future, your future." Cyrus bit his lip nervously, a whole new host of questions now on his mind. He opened his mouth to ask the one on the tip of his tongue but Rodolphus beat him to it.

"No, I'm not your father."

Cyrus opened his mouth again to ask a different question and once again he was beaten to the punch.

"Yeah I knew both of them pretty well. Your mother is a woman named Bellatrix Black and your father was a man named Thomas Gaunt. We all used to work together." The boy's eye twitched, in a tell of annoyance. He waited just a bit before he thought of his next question, determined to catch Rodolphus off guard. Cyrus opened his mouth and for the third time it was answered before he could ask it.

" No I'm not reading your mind, yes I know I'm annoying, and you really shouldn't tell people to go fuck themselves, it's rude."

" Go fuck yourself!" Cyrus said vehemently, before he blinked in surprise clearly not expecting the man to anticipate that. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to push his anger and annoyance down and found for whatever reason it was much harder than it usually was. It took a few tries before the chilling sensation of cold hard focus washed over him, and when he opened his eyes he was finally fully ready to listen. Rodolphus took another swig of his drink and made a 'go on' motion.

" What's a Hydrus?" Rodolphus looked at him, finally seeming serious. " It's a constellation found in the southern hemisphere, depicting a legendary water snake. It's also your name. Hydrus Cepheus Gaunt. That's the name you were born with." Cyrus, now Hydrus, took the man's words in stride and asked the penultimate question.

"What happened to my family?" Hydrus's voice was filled with desperation, filled with a need to know where he came from. Rodolphus downed the last of his beverage and gave a sigh.

"It's a long story, but it goes something like this."

Dec 31 1979, a few minutes or so before the new year

Thomas Gaunt aka Dark Lord Voldemort made his way through the now familiar halls of Lestrange Lodge, filled with annoyance and a bit of anxiety. His son was about to be born and Bellatrix had requested that he be here for it. It had been the only thing his protege and most faithful servant had ever asked of him. The Dark Lord had allowed each member of the Inner Circle one favor from him as a reward for their competence and loyalty and he was a man of his word. But it wasn't the fact that he was about to become a father that filled him with anxiety. No, it was something far more important. The Great Prophecy. The one Rodolphus, his oracle, had made almost nine months ago.

Had it been a normal prophecy the Dark Lord would have made preparations to weather the storms of fate and ensure his goals. But it was not an ordinary prophecy. It was a Great Prophecy, it was a foretelling of an event or sequence of events that permanently altered the fate of the planet.

The words of the prophecy played on replay within his mind as bypassed the members of the Inner Circle who had gathered to celebrate the birth of his son.

Lucius Malfoy and his wife Miranda Selwyn

Severus Snape

Robert Greengrass

Edmond Parkinson

Amelia Bones

And his current favorite, Rodolphus Lestrange.

They bowed and parted way, clearing the path to the private room where Bellatrix and her sisters awaited. Turning the handle and opening the door he was greeted with Bellatrix screaming and cursing.

"YOU! YOU DID THIS TO ME! I SHOULD FLAY YOU ALIVE AND FEED YOU YOUR OWN ASS!"

"You're almost done, Trixie. Just a little more and you can rest." Narcissa tried reassuring her eldest sister. It was a futile attempt.

Voldemort stood off to the side in silence with his hands folded behind his back as he watched the spectacle trying to ignore the strange feelings that were starting to bubble up inside of him. Bellatrix gave a final scream and one last push and at the exact stroke of midnight Jan 1 1980, Hydrus was born, his cries filling the air. Andromeda cut the cord, cleaned the amniotic fluid off, wrapped the crying child in a blanket and handed him back to his mother all with her ever present blank expression.

At the same time this was happening, something was happening to the Dark Lord. It felt like every cell in his body was on fire as he bore witness to the birth of his son. He crossed the room and with surprising gentleness took the boy from his mother. As Voldemort held his son and committed his features and magic to memory the horrible pain within him grew. He quickly handed the bundle of blankets to the nearest person, Narcissa, and fled the room. He ignored the crying of his son, ignored the concerns of his followers as he moved as quickly as possible without outright running, knowing that he wouldn't be able to hold it together much longer.

Crossing the wards he apparated to one of his safehouses where he could finally let out the pain filled scream that he had been suppressing. The Dark Lord screamed and for six days and six nights he screamed still as his soul was aflame. On the dawn of the seventh day the pain finally faded, the screaming stopped, and Lord Voldemort was left with a deep inescapable realization.

He loved his son.

It was that realization that he had ignored that had caused him so much pain. Even if his heart and mind could ignore the overwhelming feeling, his fractured soul could not. Voldemort could feel his soul super gluing itself back together, could feel his horcruxes become inert, could feel his immortality unravel and slip away.

For the first time in many years Lord Voldemort was mortal once more. His soul becoming whole again had significant changes on his body and mind. Gone was the appearance of the snake demon he had transformed into, and in its place was the handsome and serious face of Thomas Gaunt. From his mind the ever present bloodlust and desire for chaos and domination faded, and the lightning-quick, cold machine of logic and strategy that was his brain returned. But all of that was insignificant, next to meaningless compared to the last change he had undergone.

His power had reached levels unprecedented, unrivaled even by Dumbledore.

The demon persona that was Voldemort still lingered of course, as the most powerful dark wizard in history it would be beyond foolish to think that Thomas Gaunt was somehow reformed or fixed. He had simply been filled with a different purpose. His son. Thomas had never known love, so it was completely expected that he didn;t know how to show it either. So he chose to emulate the one person in the world who was capable of loving Hydrus more than he, his mother Bellatrix.

It was a shame that Bellatrix's love was a horribly toxic thing just as twisted as she was. It was a love that was corrupted by possessiveness, obsession, and extreme incestuous lust.

Thomas and Bellatrix argued constantly about who Hydrus belonged to, who loved him more, and who could shower him with the rarest and most expensive gifts.

Bellatrix used her power and influence among the Death Eaters and as the current head of House Black to procure dozens of magically binding contracts, essentially enslaving several pureblood witches and their daughters, nieces, cousins, and even her own sisters to all be Hydrus's playthings.

Thomas, not one to be outdone, made every single Death Eater swear an Unbreakable Vow to protect and serve his son even from himself should the worst happen. He had given Hydrus an extremely powerful, and unquestioningly loyal army.

Bellatrix, in an attempt to one up the Dark Lord, traveled all of Europe and returned with one of a kind rare magical artifacts of immense power. There had been violent and inconclusive duels between the two after that. Their feud had lasted all till early April when they had agreed to give their son, their crown prince, a gift that neither could give to him on their own.

The World.

The two parents called a truce and turned almost all their effort and attention to conquering not just the magical world, but the muggle one as well.

Deep Within The Department of Mysteries: Early April

Within the hall of prophecy on a large stone pedestal, an orb easily the size of a semi-truck tire pulsated with a celestial light and gave off a whispering wind. Rodolphus, the semi-permanent guardsman, slit his wrist and offered the orb his blood and life-force. Magic accepted his sacrifice and he once again became a vessel for cosmic destiny. He saw the various timelines and pathways on how the Great Prophecy could come to pass. Rodolphus Saw that the threads of destiny sprung from a very early event that happened across all timelines that had the Great Prophecy.

The bodily destruction of the Dark Lord.