Chapter One: The Blood of Gaunt
The ramshackle Gaunt shack stood like a derelict sentinel on the edge of Little Hangleton, its crooked walls and moss-covered roof whispering tales of a once-great lineage now lost to decay. Within, a flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the worn, wooden floorboards, illuminating the grizzled figure of Morfin Gaunt. His gnarled hands fumbled with a set of tarnished cufflinks, an ancient relic from more prosperous times.
"Corvinus!" Morfin's voice grated through the dimly lit room, the sharpness of his tone betraying his impatience. "Get in here, boy!"
From the corner of the room, a small figure emerged. Corvinus Marvolo Ominis Gaunt, a child of five, with a shock of dark, black-ish blonde hair and eyes that held a depth of melancholy unusual for his age. His clothes, though of fine material, hung awkwardly on his thin frame, a testament to the Gaunt family's fallen state.
"Yes, Grandfather?" Corvinus's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he approached Morfin.
"Stand still," Morfin ordered, a hint of frustration coloring his words as he adjusted Corvinus's collar with rough hands. "Tonight, you'll be among the purebloods. Act like it. Remember, we are Gaunts—proud and ancient."
Corvinus nodded, his mind drifting as his grandfather's words washed over him. He had heard tales of the other pureblood families, of their wealth and grandeur. He wondered what it would be like to meet the famous Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and his sister, Ivy. Their story was known to all, even to Corvinus, hidden away as he was. Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter, were renowned for their heroism and strength during the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. They fortunately, (or unfortunately, depending on whose side one was on), were on duty and away from their house at Godric's Hollow during Voldemort's attack; the assault claimed the lives of Euphemia and Fleamont Potter, who sacrificed themselves attempting to protect Harry and Ivy. Corvinus often imagined what it would be like to live in such a family, one bound together by such love rather than fear.
Morfin finished his task with a final tug at the collar. "Remember, you are to make connections. Speak when spoken to, and do not embarrass me."
"Yes, Grandfather," Corvinus repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
The journey to the Ministry Ball was a silent one. They traveled in an old, enchanted carriage, its once-gilded exterior now dulled with age. As they approached the grandiose Ministry building, Corvinus's eyes widened at the sight of it. The hall was a swirl of vibrant robes and glittering chandeliers, a stark contrast to the gloom of the Gaunt shack.
"Stay close," Morfin muttered as they stepped into the opulent ballroom. Eyes turned towards them, some filled with curiosity, others with thinly veiled disdain. The Gaunt name still held weight, though it was a burden more than a boon in a few of these circles.
Corvinus's gaze wandered, taking in the splendor. His attention was caught by a pair of children a few years younger than him, a boy and a girl, standing with a tall man and a red-haired woman. The boy had a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead—Harry Potter. Corvinus felt a pang of something he couldn't quite identify as he watched the family, so different from his own.
"Ah, Morfin!" A voice interrupted his thoughts. Lucius Malfoy, with his signature platinum hair and cold smile, approached them. "I see you've brought your grandson. Corvinus, isn't it?"
"Yes," Morfin replied curtly. "Corvinus, this is Lucius Malfoy."
"Hello, Lord. Malfoy," Corvinus said, bowing slightly as he had been taught.
"Charmed," Lucius responded, his eyes briefly flickering with interest. "I'm sure Draco will be eager to meet you."
Corvinus managed a small smile, though it felt strained. He watched as Draco Malfoy, a blond boy with a face that did nothing to belie his lack of comfort with the surrounding party, was ushered over with his mother.
"Draco, Narcissa, this is Corvinus Gaunt," Lucious said softly, his voice a tad more soothing speaking to his family.
Draco glanced up, his grey eyes meeting Corvinus's briefly. "Hello," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Hello, Draco, Lady Malfoy" Corvinus replied, offering a polite nod. The children's exchange was brief, their shyness creating a silent understanding between them.
"Enjoy the evening," Lucius said smoothly, before leading Draco and his wife away. Morfin's grip on Corvinus's shoulder tightened, a silent reminder to stay vigilant.
As the night wore on, Corvinus drifted through the crowd, his mind a whirl of new faces and experiences. He caught glimpses of the Potters from time to time, always surrounded by admirers. There was a warmth and ease about them that he envied, a stark contrast to his own cold existence. Yet, his grandfather always steered him clear of the Potters and their "sycophants", as he put it.
"Mudbloods and blood-traitors, the lot of them." Morfin spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "That Potter fool disgraced his lineage by marrying that mudblood, Evans. His family's support of such a union was a disgrace. I am glad they're dead." Corvinus nodded mechanically, his eyes lingering on the Potters.
Finally, the hour grew late, and Morfin signaled it was time to leave. As they stepped back into the cool night air, Corvinus couldn't help but steal one last glance at the Ministry, its grandeur fading into the distance. He felt a strange mix of emotions—hope, longing, and a deep, abiding loneliness.
"Remember what you've seen tonight," Morfin said gruffly as they boarded the carriage. "This is the world you must learn to navigate, Corvinus. We are Gaunts, and we will rise again." Corvinus nodded, his eyes fixed on the stars above.
The Gaunt shack had seen better days, though no one alive could remember when those days were. The walls, once whitewashed, were now stained with grime and age, and the creaking floorboards spoke of years of neglect. The damp smell of rot and decay permeated the air, mingling with the faint, acrid scent of old spells and darker things.
Morfin Gaunt paced in the small kitchen, his face a mask of frustration and anger. His gnarled hands clenched and unclenched as he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting to the door every few moments. Corvinus was outside, as usual, playing in the overgrown garden that surrounded their home. It was the only place where he felt some semblance of freedom.
"Worthless," Morfin hissed to himself, stopping in front of the small, cracked window that offered a view of the garden. He watched Corvinus for a moment, the boy's dark ash blonde hair a stark contrast against the wild greenery. "Six years old and still no sign of proper magic. The blood of Gaunt runs through his veins, and yet…"
He turned away from the window, his face twisted with disdain. The weight of their family's legacy hung heavily on him, a constant reminder of their once-great status now reduced to ruins. He could not understand why Corvinus, a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself, had not shown any significant magical abilities.
"Corvinus!" Morfin bellowed, his voice echoing through the small house.
A few moments later, the door creaked open, and Corvinus stepped inside, dirt smeared on his cheeks and a cautious look in his eyes. "Yes, Grandfather?"
"Come here," Morfin ordered, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.
Corvinus walked over, his small frame tense. Morfin seized him by the shoulders, his grip almost painful. "You are a Gaunt," he growled, his eyes boring into Corvinus'. "You carry the blood of Salazar Slytherin. And yet, you have shown me nothing to prove it. Where is your magic, boy?"
"I—I don't know," Corvinus stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I try, Grandfather, but nothing happens."
"Try harder," Morfin snapped, shaking him slightly. "Our name means something. It commands respect, power. You must uphold it."
"Yes, Grandfather," Corvinus replied, his eyes downcast. He had heard these words countless times, each repetition a sharp reminder of his inadequacy.
Morfin released him with a frustrated snarl and turned away. "Go. Practice. Do not return until you have something to show me."
Corvinus nodded quickly and fled the room, his heart pounding. He ran back to the garden, the only place that offered him a semblance of peace. He knelt beside a patch of wildflowers, his hands trembling as he tried to summon any hint of magic. He whispered incantations, his voice cracking with desperation, but the flowers remained stubbornly still.
Tears of frustration pricked his eyes, but he blinked them away. He couldn't cry. Not here. Not where his grandfather might see. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He had to keep trying. He had to prove himself.
The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the garden. Corvinus continued his futile attempts, his mind a whirl of frustration and fear. He knew what his grandfather expected of him, and he felt the weight of those expectations like a heavy chain around his neck.
As darkness fell, he finally gave up, exhaustion overtaking him. He slumped against the trunk of an old oak tree, its twisted branches reaching out like crooked, distorted fingers. He stared up at the stars, feeling a profound sense of loneliness. He was a Gaunt, born into a legacy of power and pride, yet he felt like an outsider in his own family.
"Why can't I do it?" he whispered to the night. The stars offered no answer, their cold light a stark reminder of his isolation.
Eventually, he dragged himself back inside, his steps heavy with defeat. Morfin was waiting, his eyes narrowing as he took in Corvinus's disheveled appearance.
"Well?" he demanded.
Corvinus shook his head, unable to meet his grandfather's gaze. "I couldn't—nothing happened."
Morfin's face twisted with rage. "Pathetic," he spat. "You are a disgrace to our name. Get out of my sight."
Corvinus fled to his small room, his heart heavy. As he lay on his narrow bed, he vowed silently to himself that he would find a way to make his grandfather proud. He had to.
The Gaunt shack was as decrepit as ever, its walls groaning in the chill of the early evening. Morfin Gaunt stood in the dimly lit sitting room, adjusting the collar of his threadbare dress robes. His face was set in a perpetual scowl, the lines of bitterness etched deeply into his skin.
"Corvinus!" he barked, his voice reverberating through the small house. "Hurry up, boy. We cannot be late."
Corvinus emerged from his room, his dark ash blonde hair neatly combed, his small frame swallowed by the oversized robes Morfin had forced him into. He moved cautiously, the tension in the air as thick as the dust that coated the shack's surfaces.
"Yes, Grandfather," Corvinus said quietly, his eyes downcast.
Morfin scrutinized him, his gaze lingering on the boy's slender hands, hoping to see some sign of magic, some flicker of the power that was supposed to run through their bloodline. But there was nothing. There was always nothing.
"Remember what I told you," Morfin said, his voice low and dangerous. "Keep your mouth shut and stay out of sight. If anyone asks, you've been showing signs of magic. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Grandfather," Corvinus replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt the familiar weight of shame settle over him, as if he were a burden too heavy to bear.
The journey to the Ministry Ball was silent, the air in the old, enchanted carriage heavy with unspoken words. Corvinus stared out of the window, his mind once again drifting to the Potters and their 'sycophants'. He wondered what it would be like to live without the constant fear of disappointing those who were supposed to care for him.
They arrived at the Ministry, its grand facade glittering under the lights of the evening. The ballroom was a whirl of color and movement, the sound of laughter and music filling the air. Morfin's grip on Corvinus's shoulder tightened as they entered, a silent warning to behave.
"Remember," Morfin hissed in Corvinus's ear, "you are a Gaunt. Act like it."
Corvinus nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He followed his grandfather through the crowd, his eyes darting nervously around the room. Nearby, proud parents were conversing, sharing stories of their children's accidental magic.
"Just last week, Daphne turned the family cat purple!" one mother exclaimed, her eyes shining with pride. "And little Theo made all the flowers in our garden bloom in winter," another parent added, beaming.
Corvinus listened quietly, feeling a pang of envy. He had never experienced such things, and he wondered if he ever would.
"Morfin, good to see you," came a cold, familiar voice. Lucius Malfoy approached, his platinum hair gleaming in the light, Narcissa by his side. "And young Corvinus. How are you, lad?"
"I'm well, Mr. Malfoy," Corvinus replied, bowing slightly as he had been taught.
"Good to hear," Lucius said smoothly, his eyes briefly flickering with interest. "Draco has been asking about you. I'm sure you two will have much to discuss."
Draco appeared at his father's side, his expression guarded. "Hello, Corvinus."
"Hello, Draco," Corvinus said, forcing a smile.
"Go on, Corvinus," Morfin said, giving him a gentle shove. "Go and socialize."
Corvinus joined Draco and the other children, his movements stiff and uncertain. He observed as the children played games and exchanged stories, their laughter echoing in the grand hall. Corvinus felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension, knowing he had to navigate this social terrain carefully.
"What do you like to do for fun?" asked a girl with pigtails, Pansy Parkinson, her eyes bright with curiosity.
Corvinus hesitated, feeling a pang of nervousness. "Um, I like exploring," he replied tentatively, trying to think of something safe to say.
The chubby boy named Vincent Crabbe nodded enthusiastically, his stocky build and wide grin giving him a jovial appearance. "Exploring sounds fun! We should explore the Forbidden Forest someday!"
Corvinus forced a small smile, relieved that his answer seemed to suffice. He listened as the children shared tales of their adventures, feeling a sense of camaraderie begin to form.
As the children chattered on, Corvinus found himself relaxing into the conversation, his initial unease giving way to genuine interest. He may not have magical abilities to showcase, but he could still find common ground with his peers.
"What about you, Corvinus?" one of the children asked, turning to him with curious eyes. "Do you have any siblings?"
Corvinus shook his head, feeling a twinge of sadness at the mention of siblings. "No, it's just me," he replied quietly.
The children exchanged nods of understanding, their curiosity satisfied. Corvinus felt a sense of belonging wash over him, grateful for the chance to connect with others his age.
Despite his initial reservations, Corvinus found himself enjoying the company of his newfound friends. As they continued to chat and laugh together, he felt a sense of hope begin to blossom within him. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't need magic to fit in after all.
Ivy Potter skipped through the corridors of the Ministry, her heart light with the thrill of her current adventure. She had grown tired of the stuffy ballroom and the endless stream of guests, longing for a moment of freedom amidst the chaos to explore.
As she rounded a corner, Ivy caught sight of a solitary figure leaning against the wall, his dark blonde hair tousled and his expression pensive. Intrigued by the sight of someone else seeking solace from the festivities, Ivy approached him with a smile.
"Hello," she said, her voice ringing out in the quiet corridor. "Are you lost?"
The boy shook his head, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment as he met Ivy's gaze. "No, I just needed some fresh air," he replied, his voice soft but steady.
Ivy nodded understandingly, her curiosity piqued by the mysterious stranger. "I'm Ivy. What's your name?"
"I'm Corvinus," he said, offering her a tentative smile.
Ivy returned the smile, a sense of excitement bubbling up inside her. "Do you want to play a game?" Corvinus hesitated for a moment, his uncertainty evident in his expression. But there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes, a spark of adventure that mirrored Ivy's own.
"Okay," he said, his smile growing wider. "What game?"
Ivy's grin widened into a mischievous smile as she thought of the perfect game to play. "Let's play hide and seek," she said, her voice filled with excitement.
With a nod of agreement, Ivy led Corvinus down the corridor, her laughter echoing in the empty halls as they disappeared into the shadows.
As they played, Ivy felt a sense of joy wash over her, grateful for the chance to connect with someone new. She couldn't help but wonder at Corvinus's quiet and gentle demeanor, finding comfort in his presence amidst the chaos of the Ministry ball.
As Ivy and Corvinus emerged from their hiding spots, laughter still dancing in the air around them, their joyous moment was abruptly interrupted by the sharp sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor. Corvinus turned pale as he recognized the familiar stride of his grandfather, Morfin Gaunt.
"Corvinus Marvolo Ominis Gaunt!" Morfin's voice boomed, cutting through the playful atmosphere like a knife. His eyes narrowed with disapproval as he marched towards them, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the children.
Ivy's smile faltered as she watched Corvinus tense up, his shoulders hunching instinctively as if bracing for impact. She took a step back, unsure of how to respond to the sudden change in atmosphere.
"What do you think you're doing?" Morfin demanded, his voice laced with anger. "Associating with a blood-traitor like her!"
Ivy's heart sank at the venom in Morfin's words, her confusion giving way to a sense of hurt. She had never been called such a thing before, and the accusation stung more than she cared to admit.
"Grandfather, I—" Corvinus began, his voice trembling with fear.
"Silence!" Morfin snapped, cutting him off with a sharp gesture. "From now on, you will remain firmly by my side. I won't have you associating with filth like her."
Corvinus lowered his gaze, his expression clouded with shame as he nodded obediently. Ivy watched in silence, feeling a surge of anger and frustration building inside her. She wanted to speak up, to defend her newfound friend, but the words caught in her throat, choked by the weight of Morfin's disapproval.
As Morfin led Corvinus away, his grip firm and unyielding, Ivy was left standing alone in the empty corridor, her heart heavy with disappointment. She knew that their brief moment of friendship had been shattered before it could even truly begin.
Ivy approached her family, her heart heavy with the weight of what she needed to share. She found her parents, Lily and James Potter, along with her twin brother Harry, surrounded by their friends and fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix. "Mum, Dad, Harry," Ivy began, her voice quiet but determined. "I need to talk to you."
Concern flickered in her parents' eyes as they turned their attention to her, sensing the seriousness in her tone. "Of course, sweetheart," Lily said, her voice gentle.
Taking a deep breath, Ivy recounted the unsettling encounter she had just experienced with Corvinus and his grandfather, Morfin Gaunt. She described the harsh words spoken and the tense atmosphere that had hung between them.
As Ivy shared her unsettling encounter with Corvinus and Morfin Gaunt, Lily and James listened intently, their expressions growing increasingly grave with each passing moment. Lily's eyes narrowed with disapproval, while James' jaw tightened with anger.
"Ivy, darling, I'm so sorry you had to endure that," Lily said, her voice laced with concern. "But you need to understand, the Gaunts... they're not like us. They have a twisted ideology, one filled with hatred and prejudice."
James nodded in agreement, his tone tinged with frustration. "They're dangerous, Ivy, Harry," he said, his voice firm. "They believe in blood purity, in the superiority of pureblood wizards over all others. It's a vile ideology, one that has caused immeasurable pain and suffering."
Ivy felt a chill run down her spine as she listened to her parents' words. She had never heard of the Gaunts before tonight, and their extreme beliefs left her feeling unsettled.
"They're not safe company for you to be around," Lily continued, her voice filled with a painful soberness neither of the twins had heard except for when they asked their parents about grandma and grandpa. "We need to make sure you steer clear of them, Ivy, Harry. Promise us you'll stay away."
The two nodded, Ivy's heart heavy with the weight of their words. She couldn't help but feel a sense of doubt creeping in, her brief experience with Corvinus casting a shadow of uncertainty over her parents' warnings. But as she pushed those doubts aside, knowing that her parents only wanted to protect her, she made plans to think about it all later.
As the night wore on, Corvinus drifted through the crowd, avoiding his grandfather's piercing gaze. He caught glimpses of the Potters, always surrounded by admirers. James and Lily Potter stood tall, their presence commanding respect and admiration. Harry and Ivy played happily, if a little subdued from their conversation earlier, yet still their laughter a sharp contrast to the anxiety that gnawed at Corvinus's insides.
"Corvinus," came Morfin's voice, sharp and impatient. "It's time to leave."
Corvinus nodded, making his way back to his grandfather. As they left the ballroom, Morfin's grip on his shoulder was painfully tight.
"You did well enough," Morfin muttered as they climbed back into the carriage. "But you need to show magic soon, Corvinus. Our family's honor depends on it. And no more associating with blood-traitors." he said sharply.
"Yes, Grandfather," Corvinus replied, his voice hollow. He stared out of the window as the carriage rattled away from the glittering lights of the Ministry, feeling the weight of his grandfather's expectations like a chain around his neck. He vowed to himself, once again, that he would find a way to manifest his magic, to prove that he was worthy of the Gaunt name. But deep down, he couldn't shake the fear that he never would.
The rest of the carriage ride back to the Gaunt shack was silent, save for the creaking of the old wood and the occasional heavy sigh from Morfin. Corvinus sat beside his grandfather, lost in his own thoughts, the weight of their family's expectations heavy on his young shoulders.
"I don't understand it," Morfin muttered, breaking the silence. "You should be showing signs by now. You're a Gaunt, damn it!"
Corvinus flinched at the harshness in his grandfather's voice, but he remained silent. He had no answers, no excuses to offer.
As they reached the shack, Morfin ushered Corvinus inside, his mood darker than ever. The air in the small kitchen was thick with tension as they sat down at the worn wooden table.
"We'll figure this out," Morfin said, more to himself than to Corvinus. "You're going to make us proud, boy. I won't accept anything less."
Corvinus nodded, his heart heavy with guilt and uncertainty. He wanted nothing more than to fulfill his grandfather's expectations, to prove himself worthy of the Gaunt name.
As the night stretched on, Corvinus lay awake in his small, cramped room, the weight of his failure pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He tossed and turned, his mind racing with thoughts of magic and destiny.
But no matter how hard he tried, sleep eluded him, leaving him alone in the darkness with nothing but his own doubts and fears for company.