Blood On My Name

by sadlybeans

Voldemort, the Dark Lord, was defeated as the prophecy tells, by a teenage boy who had nothing but love and friendship at his side, his reign of terror over in a single night. After darkness enveloped him, Tom Riddle woke up in his eleven year old body, with the knowledge of the future and his past mistakes… Now the question is, will that knowledge help him avoid his destiny?

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 Notes:

TW; as usual, mentions of death. Surprisingly, the only warning this chapter has.

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Doctor Evergreen dictated that while she thought Marzan would heal just fine from then on, it would still be severely unwise to set him to compete in the tournament as the stress of using too much magic could cause him to collapse again, but unfortunately he was tied down by a magical contract. Her suggestion was to immediately surrender once the third task began, thus completing the contract by technically participating, and he was very tempted to follow that advice because he didn't even want to compete in the first place… but he had to. If he didn't, he couldn't prevent that explosion, and many people would die. And it would happen, they were already starting to build the traps.

He had not yet communicated any of his fears to anyone, nor of his decision to compete, and instead chose to enjoy the last bits of normalcy he had left. Upon returning to the castle his friends and housemates had all welcomed him back warmly and he had hardly spent a waking moment alone, or even a moment alone in general since plenty of mornings had seen him wake to find Alphard curled up next to him.

He could say he was having fun, doing his best to ignore Death's constant presence, enjoying his simple life as a fifteen year old boy, something he had never appreciated before to the same extent. He could tell often that Death wanted to taunt him, but fortunately it remained quiet and let him be as he enjoyed the last months of his life.

Now, his main concern came to… once he died, what would happen with Dumbledore? With the defeat of Grinderlwald there would be no new Dark Lord on the rise, nobody who he could oppose for the 'greater good', nobody he could use to make himself look like the hero. Although, there was also no guarantee that Grindelwald would be defeated— now that he thought about it, Dumbledore's slip during his first year had cost him greatly; he had lost his prestigious spot as Head of Gryffindor, and was completely overlooked for the position of deputy Headmaster, which instead fell on the much more appropriate professor Merrythought. His grip on the ministry was in consequence much weaker, and his reputation had suffered from constant blows in general whenever people noticed that he had a (seemingly) one sided rivalry with Hogwarts' most brilliant student, a boy of all fifteen years old. All of this meant that his only saving grace would be to become the hero to defeat Grindelwald, or to join forces with his ex-lover once more so that they could rule the world together as they once wished… And so far this time around, nobody was begging him to take Grindelwald down.

And Grindelwald himself was— well, a variable he had hardly considered. Back then, it really hadn't been important… He was defeated while Tom Riddle was busy taking control over Slytherin and plotting to murder his muggle father, by the time he graduated and became Voldemort he had been rotting in Nurmengard for years. Matter of fact, he was likely still locked in that prison cell by the time Voldemort himself was killed, he hadn't made a huge impact on his life, all things considered. However, now that he had a new perspective of things he was slowly coming to realise that perhaps, they were much more similar than what he had initially believed; after all, hadn't Dumbledore been the one with the initiative, the one to create the cause? Grindelwald was brilliant on his own, but he wasn't as equally ambitious, he was simply infatuated and willing to do whatever the object of his obsession wanted… and in turn, Dumbledore had discarded him the second he had no use. And still all those fools who chose to follow him, the 'righteous' Order of the Phoenix, hadn't even realised that Dumbledore's motto, "For the greater good", was the exact same one that Grindelwald used now. Perhaps he had miscalculated then— It had never been a man playing hero, instead it was a Dark Lord using Voldemort as a smoke screen to conceal his true nature.

Years in the future magic would be threatened, little by little it would fizzle away with each community that was thrown in the open for the non-magic to discover, until there was nothing left of their people… That had been why Death sent him back, why he was pushed into his eleven year old body, why he was made to start from scratch. It could've never been Potter, because he would've never had the perspective to see the truth, nor would he have managed to set himself free of a lifetime of manipulation and brainwashing. No, it wouldn't have worked unless Death spelled it out for him, and even then the truth would have broken him…

Ironically, that moment of clarity made him feel— elated. Ecstatic, even. In a surprising display he had broken down laughing, sitting alone on his bedroom, hysterical and bordering on manic, until he had slid down from his bed to the carpet to lay beneath the crystal ceiling. Death had stood next to his shaking body, looking down upon him silently, and then it spoke for the first time in months. By then his chest was heaving in exhaustion.

Why does this thought make you happy?

Tom grinned, a smile full of teeth that was all too familiar.

"I've been going about this the wrong way"

Death shifted slightly, as if tilting its head.

"I have been so busy erasing the past, trying to be different… but nothing changes if I shove it down a box, the weight still trails behind me in a different shape" he slowly sat up and stared up ahead at the cosmic deity that was all, nothing, and both. His wide blue eyes had adopted a ring of red around the pupil. "I choose to be myself, to be all that I already am, but better. Tom Riddle, Voldemort, and Marzan Gaunt, all of them are me and I am them"

The swirls of void twitched slightly. Death remained silent, staring at him as their faces were but a few inches apart— or well, rather his face and its nothingness.

"I am not going to die"

Why?

"Because I don't want to. You brought me here blind counting on the fact that I would use this as my revenge, that I would turn what he did on him tenfold, but you underestimated me just the same as he did… You forgot that I am not the magnanimous hero that killed me; I would've always found the truth"

He couldn't tell if Death was surprised or amused, but it moved backwards to set more distance between them.

Your arrogance has certainly not changed, Lord Voldemort. But even if you were right… what do you pretend to do? Your magic is weak, and you are nearly back in my hands.

Marzan stood up and straightened his clothes, brushing off imaginary dirt.

"I'm the most brilliant student this castle has ever seen. If you think my condition is going to stop me, then you don't know me at all" he took a deep breath and looked up to the gentle light filtering down from the lake "this might be my only win against you, but I will make sure it is not less worthy"

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A week before the final task was set to take place, the castle became even fuller with visitors from all over the world. More than that, Hogsmeade was thriving with activity as students' families were coming in just as well. That meant that in those last hectic days he was pulled from side to side by his friends and classmates as their parents wanted to meet the champion of their school and congratulate him on his accomplishments. Even Ipatiy had dragged him to meet his mother and stepfather! That had been a pleasant talk despite his reservations, as Vasilyeva had remained quiet during their meal in the Three Broomsticks and he could wholly ignore her presence. Lord and Lady Black had also been delighted to have him for tea, and later Orion and Lucretia's parents also joined them… his last social gathering was with the Malfoys, a mere two days before the finale.

He was utterly surprised to see them arrive, as he couldn't recall if they had been there the last time around. At first he had seen Vasilyeva's father talking with Lord Malfoy and he just knew… he was trying to negotiate the engagement. He didn't know why, but the thought immediately set him in a sour mood— although, it was true that they had never liked each other and that he hated how much she looked down on him. If his memory was at least somewhat correct, Lord Malfoy had asked Abraxas for his opinion before he completely set the engagement into stone, as he truly did want his heir to not he miserable in his future marriage, and his petty side almost wanted to pester Abraxas with all the reasons why he should never consider marrying that awful woman… but his friend had no idea that his engagement was being discussed. It was maddening and he didn't want to think about it so he turned to walk away but ended up running into Lady Malfoy.

"Oh! What a happy coincidence, I was looking everywhere for you my dear" she chuckled delicately with a kind smile.

Aliénor Malfoy was a stunning woman, people inevitably turning to see her walk by. Marzan was sure she was a high elf, although she must've surgically altered her ears to appear as human, rather understandably so… Her golden curly hair spilled down her back to her waist, mostly unadorned except with the way it had been pinned out of her face with a silver brooch. Her eyes, green as a grassy field in spring, framed by long eyelashes and the tiniest hint of makeup. And much like her son, she favoured a rather simple style of clothing with a plain yellow dress that only brought out her natural beauty even more. She and Abraxas were nearly identical if not for the softer angles to her face and the fact Abraxas wore his hair short… and he knew too that she was very powerful given her actual heritage, although it was hard to tell how much since she wasn't too fond of making it known -yet again like her son. In his first life she had passed shortly after Abraxas, as he had been the last family she had left and her husband was already dead…

"Lady Malfoy, a pleasure to see you" he offered her a charming smile and kissed the back of her hand.

She smiled and playfully tugged at his cheek.

"Look at you, you've grown taller since the summer. How have you been? Abraxas tells us you've been having some health issues"

"Ah— it's nothing to worry about, Madam Magnolis did a wonderful job and in St. Mungo the doctor that saw me assured us I'd recover just fine" he placated her, and mostly it was true.

"That's a relief, I've grown rather fond of you" and he couldn't help but feel warm at her earnest response. "Are you free today, dear? I know you must be preparing for the task, but Hyperion and I were going to lunch with Abraxas and your company is always appreciated"

"I'd be more than honoured"

She smiled again and linked their arms together as they made their way down the stairs to the entrance of the castle. Lord Malfoy greeted them once downstairs, now accompanied by his son in the short time Marzan had taken his eyes off the scene. He shook his hand firmly, offering him a cordial congratulations on his hard work during the tournament, and after he passed on Lady Malfoy's arm onto him, they made their way to the carriages. The ride over was filled with small talk about their school year, and he was grateful that the matter of the tournament wasn't touched over more than briefly, instead the questions turning towards their schoolwork— Abraxas and Marzan shared the spot for top of their year, although Marzan undeniably had the best grades since he had never received anything short of an outstanding in any of his classes. The Malfoys presumably accepted their friendship given the good influence he proved to be in that area, or at least it used to be that way back in his childhood, although back then he wasn't close enough with the family as to go to dinner with them, given he was a mudblood.

Back into the Three Broomsticks for the nth time that week… fortunately, this time they went upstairs to a private room already prepared for them, and a waitress didn't waste any time in making her way up. Lord Malfoy ordered some assorted dishes that would be enough for all four of them, and then she individually took stock of their drinks.

"And what may the young ones want?" she smiled at them.

"Honeybrew, please. He'll have a water" the blond answered lightly.

The waitress left after that and Lord Malfoy gave him a scolding glare.

"Abraxas!"

Ah, there— both of them had the same temperament and strong character, despite hardly looking alike; Lord Malfoy had silky straight silvery hair as was the signature for their family, and pale grey eyes in a face marked by sharper features of which his son only inherited some.

"He doesn't mind it" Abraxas answered without shame.

Lord Malfoy let out a sigh, and if he hadn't been a lord with a reputation to uphold it might've been tinted with the signs of long suffering.

"I apologise for his behaviour" he told Marzan.

Tom himself tried not to laugh, although his amusement was evident both in his eyes and the smile tugging at his lips. Lady Malfoy had hid her giggling behind her hand.

"Apology accepted, Lord Malfoy"

He had long since become completely used to the way Abraxas seamlessly ordered everyone around, and so had all their classmates to be honest… he simply had that way of saying things that made it impossible not to listen, an invaluable skill that not many others had. Well. Actually he couldn't say he had ever met someone who did it quite as well.

"You could start to learn from your friends" the man shook his head towards his son "your uncle has spoiled you too much during your time in France"

"Yes, father"

By the tired glance and Lady Malfoy's shining eyes, and also just the way he knew the Malfoy heir, it was a completely untrue statement. Abraxas could be much more poised and well versed in everything compared to their classmates, but at the end of the day he was a pureblood heir that had been spoiled since the day he was born. It was almost frustrating how nobody could resent him for that, given he was so… nice? Polite, rather.

The waitress brought up their food and drinks not too late after and the boys were encouraged to serve themselves well, especially Marzan as he was 'too thin' in Lady Malfoy's words, and still in recovery. He took it in stride without protest, as it was good food either way and by the way he had been raised, he wasn't in the habit of wasting anything.

"What was that earlier, dear?" Lady Malfoy asked a while later "When you were talking to the Russian gentleman?"

Ah, so she had noticed too. Marzan tried not to lose appetite at the thought. Lord Malfoy set down his fork.

"That was Vassili Semyonov, his stepson is competing in the tournament as well— what's the boy's name?"

"Ipatiy Yevstigneyev" Marzan offered.

"Yes, yes. He approached me in behest of his daughter. As he's told me, she has been spending time with the boys during the year"

Marzan and Abraxas shared a look. The truth was… yes and no. Most of the time she inserted herself during their meals and shared classes, and tried to follow them in whatever activities they did all five of them together in the hopes she could tug Abraxas away to spend alone time. It never really worked for multiple reasons; one, the five of them hardly coincided during their classes and liked to spend their shared free time as a group, two, Abraxas was mostly only ever polite to her and never truly friendly, and three… well, she was always interrupted in the worst timing by literally anything and everything, which was undoubtedly amusing. Marzan hadn't ever intervened, as much as he'd like to take credit, but he enjoyed when it happened nonetheless.

"Somewhat" Abraxas finally answered, and then directly as ever… "why?"

"He's looking for a suitable match for her"

"A match? This early?" Lady Malfoy took a sip of her wine. In magic England it was already very unusual, but he imagined for elven customs even more so given they could live highly extended lives. "They're barely children still"

"I told him I had to consider it" her husband quickly placated her, evidently unable to ever deny her anything.

"Is she a good lady?" she asked, directly addressing the boys.

Her son paused for a moment.

"She conducts herself the expected way for a lady of high society" he replied bluntly, in a barely disguised dig at her air of superiority and arrogance.

"She's a good student?" Tom added, struggling to find anything good to say. Not that she was any better than either of them…

Both adults exchanged a glance before Lord Malfoy addressed his heir once again.

"Would you be willing, then, to agree to the match?"

It had to be noted that he seemed to be expecting anything but a yes. And Abraxas did look at his father as if it was something utterly ridiculous to ask.

"No"

"Very well, then" Lord Malfoy sighed, and the topic was changed towards something lighter.

Later that night when they were returned to the castle safe and sound, his friend tugged him to a stop in the empty corridor before they said the password to their common room. Tom had turned to see him, confused by the sudden stop, and found his light green eyes staring intently at him.

"I don't like her, you know?"

"What?"

"Kseniya. I don't like her"

Marzan tried to think of any reason why that would be relevant.

"Ok" he answered either way, because he had no reason to doubt him.

A smooth satisfaction crossed Abraxas' face.

"Good. Let's go"

Marzan promptly forgot about the whole thing once he laid to sleep.

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The next morning he found that the champions were supposed to meet with their families and have another photoshoot before the big day. As it turned out Morfin didn't bother to show up so he was completely alone during said photos, but he was mostly relieved that he was absent because he truly had no time to deal with his childish attitude and whining. Was it still humiliating to be the orphan child? Yes, but at least he was used to it. The rest of the day they were brought to a private little wing of the school where they could stay in isolation and prepare both mentally and by practicing their spells, which he was immensely grateful over because the nightmares had returned with vicious intensity and he almost fell like throwing up constantly in the hours leading up to the morning. He was absolutely not ready to step into that damned platform, and instead of sleeping much he found himself reading again through wards and ways to contain dragon's breath despite knowing all the information by heart.

When the sun started filtering through his curtains he stood up and stretched his sore body, taking a long cold shower before donning his new set of clothes in green and silver, a sports outfit that was of good quality and made to resist full blows and most corrosive substances. His wand was tucked into his sleeve as he preferred to do, and later he ate a solitary breakfast by his desk, giving one last reading to his notes for the next couple hours. Shortly after a very light lunch, someone knocked on his door and he stepped out to see Ipatiy and Maynard waiting just as anxiously. Professor Merrythought collected them and brought them to the arena.

The place was full, to the last bit of available space, and Marzan had to swallow back his nausea as they waved and smiled for the crowd. It was a beautiful day with clear skies and a wonderful view from the open side of the stadium, where in the raised platform the cup had been placed atop a pedestal, catching the light in the translucent surface. As the previous time he completely missed headmaster Dippet's speech, although this time it wasn't exhaustion but the choking panic that he felt at the sight of the platform. In an of itself it looked simple; seven concentric circles divided in smaller sections that rotated in different directions and speeds. Each section could be either a safe spot to stand or a trap that activated something nasty to surprise them with. Unlike his memory where they had to reach the centre for the cup, they had to accumulate points in their way to the centre and then race back out towards the cup, which upped the difficulty and made his life harder by a huge margin. He knew where the faulty mechanism laid at least vaguely, but he had no idea of if them running around the other sides of the platform would set it off.

To start them off they were made to file into the rotating sides, with Marzan on the third one closest to the centre as he was currently in first place, Maynard behind him, and Ipatiy last. The cannon was set off, and suddenly he was being pulled and jerked in place as he was deposited at about five o'clock, using the open side of the stadium as 12 o'clock. No time to waste…

He fully stepped forwards and was nearly hit with an expulso, but he managed to roll out of the way before it was fully set off— he landed on a pressure plate that opened up and tried to bite off his leg. He hissed an 'arresto momentum' and scrambled off of it, moving forwards. It was— it wasn't easy even with his wicked fast reflexes and wide repertoire of spells, as nearly all the sections were traps with advanced spells that constantly made him move out of the way sideways into more traps, halting his path forwards. And just when he thought he might be able to reach the fourth ring the stupid platform decided to rotate and send him to about 8 o'clock, close to where Maynard stood.

As much as all three champions got along, they were all competitive and both older boys had learnt that Marzan wasn't defenceless or to be taken lightly— Maynard immediately attacked him and he was forced to return fire as they devolved into a short duel. A light cutting jinx hit him on the ribs and made him step back on the third ring, where the pressure plate sank and then swapped with the second ring— he didn't even have time to swear for his terrible luck when the ring moved at high speed back to where he had begun counterclockwise, and deposited him at 3.

Five, ten, fifteen… half an hour was spent and he was surprised to note that none of them had ever gotten any closer than the fifth ring before they were distracted by either a duel or the stupid traps yanking them back. He had to admit that it was a good damn exercise, and he would've had fun if he wasn't so irritated by the way it worked; he could memorise where the traps had been, since they wouldn't simply be spent after being set off once, but given how much the rings shifted, there were hundreds of possible combinations and patterns that he simply didn't have the time to deconstruct.

Unfortunately, he had just been tossed backwards by a moving pressure plate, and he landed on the second ring, again. Counterclockwise he went, landing on 1. Instantly, he heard the light crack of wood and he slowly looked downwards… oh. Oh no… He was above the faulty trap, it still existed even here, and he couldn't tell which one was it, but that sound hadn't been too encouraging. Any move in the wrong direction and— red mist. Screams. He blinked, looked upwards, and saw Ipatiy and Maynard engaged in a duel. While he hadn't deciphered the pattern, he did notice that the rings moved from the inside out first, and with a space of a few seconds of stillness before they did. The seventh was about to move. There was no time.

Marzan raised his wand.

"Expulso!"

Maynard flew towards Ipatiy just as the seventh ring started to shift. He would've liked to not have to show this to anybody while he was still 'just fifteen', but he apparated directly towards them and instantly off the platform towards the cup, throwing a wandless spell for the platform while the crowd suddenly went wild at the strange action. The voice narrating had only started to wonder what had happened when Marzan reinforced his first spell, the third ring shifting, and then the second—

Everything shook with the strength of an earthquake and he was half blinded by white before all he saw was vibrant orange red splintering the platform, the chain reaction spreading outwards through the entire space, and the ward he had hastily made around the arena burned in his core as it started splintering, his jaw tightening as the strain became unbearable. Thankfully, the professors and adults in the crowd reacted quickly between the terrified students that screamed and held to their seats and friends, and rays of light came raining down from the audience as the fragile barrier he had put up was replaced with multiple layers of blue light.

It took nearly a full ten minutes for the last explosion to subside, and only then he let his trembling arms lower, shaking in place. It had… it hadn't happened. Nobody was dead. His stomach settled down, but his heart was burning as his nearly fully healed core ironically attacked him.

"My god, how did you—?" Maynard sounded faint "You saved us…"

Marzan tried to settle down his racing pulse but then he gasped and nearly let go of his wand. It was back! The pulse beneath his fingers and the flickering light, almost like… His eyes widened. It was almost like a beacon—

The earth shook once again and he looked up in a panic but the platform was destroyed and the dragon's breath spent, it was coming from behind them. He turned, still half sprawled on the ground, and beyond the cup in the beautiful view of the forest the mountain shattered and boulders flew out crashing into the trees. Ipatiy held onto him and all three of them were unable to stand as the shaking continued on and on in a true earthquake, a deafening rumble echoing in the valley— but that wasn't rock moving, it was not the mountain splitting open.

He could hardly believe his eyes as the creature broke out of its lair, a long slender body of scales that shimmered like opalite under then sun, a majestic beast that was as long as a train and moved as fluid as the wind and the currents of a river. The wand pulsed quickly under his fingertips and all of sudden he knew why… Ollivander had said it before, he hadn't been able to tell what exactly was used as its core… but once, four outstanding witches and wizards set a dragon to sleep beneath the mountain, and Marzan imagined Slytherin had taken with him something more tangible. The wand had never reacted before, but he had fallen directly onto its lair with Ipatiy, they had been close enough for it to finally feel its presence, to waken it fully at last.

He broke out of his stupor just when the dragon loomed over the stadium, although he had completely tuned out the audience, and he pushed Ipatiy and Maynard behind him as he stumbled forwards and up to his feet, running to the edge of the platform to prevent the dragon from crashing into the entire structure.

When the dragon lifted its head to be at the same level, it truly left him speechless. The eyes were molten gold, slit pupils staring down at him stretched to a thin line, and teeth the size of his own leg and torso lining a mouth huge enough to swallow all three of them whole.

"You"A single word said in a language he did not speak, but that immediately sounded somewhat like parseltongue, lined with venom and anger. "You stole from me"

Marzan parted his lips, but not even he was strong and fearless enough to confront the dragon. It took him a second to collect himself.

«I… I did not» he wet his lips quickly, wondering if it could understand him as much as he did «I- I apologise, oh great dragon… but you h-have mistaken me for someone.. someone else»

The long tail of the creature slapped harshly against the ground, sending a tremmor through the area that nearly made him stumble.

"Do not test my patience" the dragon snarled "I smell […] on you"

He could not gather what exactly the dragon spoke about, but he hesitantly looked down at his palm, where the wand had stopped pulsating altogether, back to its resting state.

«My ancestor, he— he and three others sought out your lair» he replied slowly «… They took your home, set you to sleep, didn't they? That was long ago. You've been asleep for centuries»

The dragon growled, a noise from deep inside its chest, and Marzan's knees trembled.

"Why […] believe you?" it screamed, loud and clear.

He tried to breathe… it wasn't easy. He was still full of adrenaline from the explosion, and he was rightfully terrified of this ancient being that now demanded answers from him, knowing well that this could mean it wouldn't be happy with his andwers and simply…. get rid of them. It was an ancient dragon, nobody present was strong enough to do anything to stop it.

«Look at this place… back then, there was no students. Look at me; I am not like Salazar Slytherin. My name— My name is Marzan Gaunt, and he was my ancestor, but I never knew him»

The dragon's head lowered, fangs showing still in a feral snarl, and looked at him as directly as it could given their difference in size that impeded them from seeing eye to eye.

"Then shouldn't you […] ancestor's […]?"

Marzan lost much of what it said, but he got the gist of it. He had to pay for Slytherin's offence.

«What about the school?» he asked fearfully.

The dragon stared at him for a moment.

"I will burn […] ground"

Marzan tightened his fist around his wand like a lifeline.

«You can't! They— they're innocent, all of them! They don't… they don't have anywhere else to go» his eyes stung with unshed tears and he didn't glance backwards knowing he would lose all his courage if he did «out there humans wage a war that has killed millions, they aren't safe… when my ancestor set you to sleep, he was wrong! He was… he was wrong. But what he did also brought good; this school saved the lives of hundreds of children, it still does»

He tried to be any braver, but he had never been much of that.

«You deserve to be angry… but they have done as little wrong as you. Please»

The dragon started to lift its head.

"Your kind knows […, only selfishness"

Marzan looked up at the golden eyes of the dragon and though he did not see it anywhere, he could almost hear Death laughing.

«… Then burn me. If your fire pierces my flesh, you can take my life as revenge and do as you please. But if I live, you will stand down and give me a chance to show you differently»

The dragon stared, but it did seem to be considering it, and after a long while of silence it slid upwards to loom over him, the air turning dry and hot, and Marzan's eyes widened.

"Then, burn"

The dragon's mouth opened and in that moment… nothing else mattered.

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In the past few months he never had a chance to try and break free of the healing potions, and the obscurial had grown too weak to even attempt to break out on its own, but at that moment he had no choice. Later, he would look back and think just how utterly stupid he was for doing it, but in that split moment shattering his own magical core was just about the only thing he could do. The pain was unbearable, but that huge crack right down the middle set free the darkness agonising under his skin and a storm of black and red smoke exploded outwards, throwing back the other two champions and leaving only himself in the platform as the cup flew somewhere else; the swirl surged out just as an unbearable heat rained down on him like molten lava and the fires of hell, and the obscurial tightened around him like a cocoon, pushing back on the stream of unrelenting flame to keep his fragile human body from burning. One, two… five, ten… he lost count and could only lay like a limp puppet in the craddle of the obscurial as it swallowed the stream of dragon fire.

Flashes of things that did not make sense invaded his senses, a feeling of helplessness and unending exhaustion that would not let him open his eyes, and the almost real smell of something that screamed intruder, followed by the same thing in a much lesser intensity and the feeling that a part of him lay somewhere nearby, but where? Was that… how the dragon had felt as it was laid to sleep and in the years since? Marzan was hardly aware of the world as he opened his mind in turn, sharing the memories of the radio that played in the coffee shop in Little Hangleton, telling of the war and the endless lives wasted in it, the sight that greeted him whenever he arrived at King's Cross of boys that were barely older than him dressed as soldiers, the helplessness of being beaten and abused for being different in a world without magic— he knew too that more things bled through, like the sight of Voldemort in the mirror and the piles of dead bodies he had laid in his wake, as well as a baby with green eyes, and a boy all grown sending him to his doom… but for once, it was alright. This would be his end, and he didn't really know if Death didn't want him to share his past.

He was never aware of the fire ending, or the obscurial falling down as mist around him. He didn't remember hitting the platform unconscious, nor the dragon looming over his intact body.

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For once he didn't wake up in the hospital wing, but on a tent that had been set up just outside the arena, since that way injuries could be treated quickly before the closing ceremony and then just touched up back in the castle. He was laying in a cot, far less exhausted that he expected, and with a buzz of energy that indicated the obscurial was back at full strength. Reluctantly, he had to admit he had missed it… he could almost swear he felt it squirm with a smug air.

"… a tragedy…"

He heard voices just out of sight.

"A miracle, you mean!" was that headmaster Carmine? "An obscurus child reaching fifteen years of age is essentially unheard of!"

"There is no miracle" Madam Magnolis cried out "It will kill him sooner rather than later! The poor boy probably doesn't even know that!"

Her care was heartwarming, but he did know, it was ok.

"The obscurial never manifested through these past years in school…" he heard professor Staghart's voice. He sounded so heartbroken and terrified, and Marzan immediately felt like scum for worrying him so. "Could it be a recent development? Maybe— Maybe we caused it with his treatment?"

"Wouldn't it had been evident in that case, during his checkups?" headmaster Dippet asked.

"Obscurials are extremely hard to detect, given they are a separate entity" professor Dracul answered somberly. He sounded just about close to snapping. "Without the visible outbursts, there is virtually no other sign"

Marzan slowly sat up but his body just felt marginally tired, and he found he could stand just fine. His boots had been removed but the grass beneath his socks was somewhat warm as he made his way to the entrance of the tent.

"What can we even do, then?"

"Nothing, it's… there is no known cure" Madam Magnolis said "We can only let him know and do our best to care for him until the end. Oh Merlin! How are we even going to tell him?"

Marzan took a deep breath.

"It's alright"

All the adults gathered outside fully flinched at hearing his voice, even Elerhys Dracul who had been too busy glaring at the ground to hear the shift in his breathing and when he walked outside. Not only were his professors and the headmasters present, but also a few other men that had come from the ministry, one of which was an auror, another a representative of some sort of department related to international relations, and the last must've been called as he slept because she was definitely from the Child Protection Department.

"I already knew" he clarified before anyone could start feeling pity. "Since I was eleven"

The silence that followed was charged with tension.

"You… knew you were an obscurus?" Madam Magnolis asked to clarify.

He nodded.

"Yes. I knew how to keep it under control, it never became an issue once I started school" he paused and then looked down "I hoped… I thought that maybe the treatment to heal my core would help get rid of it, so I didn't mention its existence. And it did— or well, it was slowly killing it, but it also… it hurt a lot. I didn't want to say it because I wanted it to work so badly, but I think— I think both of us are too connected. If the obscurial dies, so do I"

That revelation didn't make things any better. If anything, it just seemed they felt even more devastated and professor Staghart looked just about to break down in tears. Professor Dracul held him by the shoulders and forced him to turn towards him.

"You could've died today!" he snarled "In fact, you're still dying right now!"

Marzan blinked.

"Actually I feel rather fine" he confessed "I know I should be exhausted, but my magic is just fine"

"Mr. Gaunt" headmaster Savasin levelled him with an incredulous look. "About an hour ago, you were under an actual dragon's fire breathing"

Marzan blinked again.

"I was?" the memories of what just happened started rushing back "I was! What happened, is everyone alright? What about Gerard and Patya!?"

Professor Dracul looked like he wanted to yell at him some more but he took a deep breath. This was easier to deal with than his incurable disease.

"They're just fine. After you collapsed the dragon didn't attack anybody else, but given none of us can speak with it, we do not know what transpired. For starters, when did you learn to speak with a dragon?"

He sighed in relief and then shrugged after he processed the information.

"I spoke in parseltongue, their language is somewhat similar… a lot of words were lost in between, but I think we each had a good idea of what the other was saying"

The representative from the ministry cleared his throat.

"And what did you say to each other, Mr. Gaunt?"

He thought it was best to not mention the exchange of memories, but everything else was alright.

"They were put to sleep by the founders, before Hogwarts opened its doors; draco dormens nunquam titillandus… that comes from somewhere, you know? I think Slytherin might've used their blood as the core for his wand? Either way, they are not very happy about being put to sleep for close to a thousand years, they confused me for him because of the scent of my blood. When… When Patya and I fell into the caves they were alerted of my presence, they must've been sleeping somewhere inside"

The explanation did thankfully make sense for the adults, and headmaster Dippet let out a grave sigh.

"This is indeed harsh news… this could mean the closure of the school, if the circumstances come to it"

Marzan winced, but it was true. The dragon was a wild variable not good to have next to a school full of children and a town with a decent population such as Hogsmeade. Moreover, there was little to no doubt that the Ministry wouldn't want to kill off the dragon as it was such an old and ancient creature that, on top of all, had been living in that valley long before Hogwarts came along. Also even if they tried to run it off or kill it, that would only anger it. Unlike modern dragons, the serpents of old were nigh indestructible and thought methods used to exist to destroy them, they had been thankfully lost to time.

"I could try and talk to them again?" he offered.

Madam Magnolis seemed like she wanted to throw him back in the hospital wing forever, but surprisingly it was professor Staghart who stopped her.

"That would be ideal"

If anything, he seemed eager to not think about the fact Marzan was dying. Feeling awfully guilty, he let him guide him into the tent and let him help put on his boots again, and he also never protested when an arm was wrapped around him and he was brought back to the now empty arena— everybody was likely back at the castle. Elerhys hovered just behind them with the rest of the delegation lagging behind to give the creature space, and upon reaching the platform he saw the dragon laying with its head facing the sky, and he felt certain pity since it must've been long since it last gazed upon it. When it noticed them standing there it rose and once again looked down on him—

This time the dragon's eyes were different, no longer two thin slits of black amongst gold. It was no longer snarling and intimidating, instead seeming calm.

"You were almost dead" it said bluntly.

Marzan almost laughed but managed not to.

«Yes, I guess so. You saw all my memories?»

"Not all of them. Enough to understand what you are and who sent you here"

Suddenly the realisation hit him and his eyes widened.

«I can understand you now!»

The dragon huffed and the current of air that came through its nose nearly made them stumble backwards.

"Yes, obviously. If you die it would be a waste" the huge head lowered and the tip of its nose nudged him backwards in a shove, with his professor catching his weight. "You would never live long on your own, and soul bonds are easy enough to do"

It took him an embarrassingly long second to figure out what it meant, but once he did his mouth slacked open.

«You bound yourself to me? But I'm just… me? Wait, is that why my magic feels just fine?»

"I'm the last of my species, and sooner or later all things come to an end" the dragon answered with ease, only marginally lined with certain sadness and resignation. "Your existence as it is now is a rarity of one in billions, that is good enough for a dragon to accept the bond… and yes, your magic will feed off of mine, to an extent. It is not an eternal source, you cannot handle my true strength even with the aid of your strange companion"

Right. Marzan had a dragon familiar, absolutely and completely normal. He was definitely not panicking about it.

«And… the school?»

"… Once, my kind lived in harmony between humans. I can learn to do so again"

There was just one problem now; Marzan had no idea of how the fuck he was going to convey any of that to the adults waiting.

.

.

He spent a grand total of one day in the hospital wing before they considered transferring him to St. Mungo, but since nobody knew the ins and outs of his sudden bond with a dragon, the healers from the hospital had come to see him instead. Even with their intense research they couldn't find anything in concrete about his condition, but they did remark that it was absolutely unusual just how good of a control he had over the obscurial, and how well they managed to work together despite the odds, which they credited for the fact that he had lived so long already. Moreover, they came to the conclusion that while they didn't have solid evidence, it was more than reasonable to believe that his new bond with the dragon would be enough to keep him alive for a good few years… and by that they meant well over the average for a wizard. It was excellent news that had sent both Madam Magnolis and professor Staghart into tears, and then also all of his friends when they came to visit and yell at him for never telling any of them. He did take the yelling humbly without protest, it was the least he could do. As a side note, he had also been told the Unspeakables would begin to research if younger obscurus children would be able to be cured like he almost was, before the obscurial took full root.

As for the triwizard tournament, it concluded without a set winner. Theoretically and since the task was never finished, they could count the points from the previous rounds which set him as the winner, but he already had too much attention set on him and instead he asked that all three of them receive equal honours— the cup wouldn't be going home to either of all three schools, and the cash prize was divided equally between all three of them. In a way, the best reward he had gotten out of it was the friendship formed with the other champions, as corny as it sounded; Ipatiy and he had bonded ever since the caves and they got along swimmignly, but Gerard had also thanked him profusely for saving his life and assured him if he ever needed anything, he could just ask.

There was a lot of work that the school needed to do before next year in between figuring out where they could set a dragon loose, so the year was cut short and the students mostly left with their parents in the aftermath of the tournament, all starry eyed and talking excitedly about the dragon and just how cool the whole thing had been. He was already dreading the publicity it was going to get. But, the end of the year meant that he had to return home. Or rather, be sent to a new home as he knew the CPD would no longer leave him with Morfin; his uncle hadn't come to the school even after the multiple revelations surrounding him, and that was the last straw that cemented their decision. He didn't know what awaited him that summer, but he could hardly be upset about it since he didn't really like his uncle or his shitty house.

His friends left a week before him and they all basically threatened him to write during the summer, which left him to pack all his belongings calmly. When the day came, Rai was resting sleepy on his shoulders and his bags were set at the grand entrance. Not too far off from the courtyard outside the gates, the golden eyes of the dragon were watching curiously.

"All ready to leave?"

He turned and found in surprise that it was none other than his two favourite professors, also ready to return home for the holidays.

"I guess" he shrugged vaguely, unable to hide the uncertainty in his voice.

Iraia looked like he wanted to say something but didn't quite know how. Luckily, at that moment the CPD representative came from within the castle as well.

"Good morning, Mr. Gaunt. How are you this morning?"

"Good morning… I'm ok"

She at least offered a small smile.

"I'm sure this year has been very rough for you, and this sudden change in your housing situation cannot be easy" he shrugged again and she cleared her throat. "Your situation was a bit delicate, but after going through all the required paperwork with your uncle, he has given up all rights to your custody…"

Not surprising at all. In fact, he had expected it to happen sooner.

"Growing up as you did, I'm sure you're aware most children aren't lucky to find a new home. However, I'm pleased to say there was a couple fully wishing to adopt you"

Adopt him? At 15? As slow as he could be for certain things -mostly anything remotely related to interacting with people-, he wasn't stupid at all. His wide eyes turned to look at both of his professors, to see that they looked at him expectantly and dare he say, with hope.

"Seeing as your professors did an excellent job of housing you over the last summer, the CPD was comfortable considering this situation. You'll be visited over the next few months to monitor how you adapt, but nobody expects any issues to arrive. That is… if you're willing"

If he was willing?

He thought back on tiny Tom Marvolo Riddle sitting in that sad orphanage, looking at the very few families coming by and knowing none of them would ever choose him. How many times had he almost been adopted, only for them to realise there was something utterly wrong with him that could never be fixed? Too many to count. Even worse were those three times that he had been taken, those times he had almost believed it was over, only for his things to be packed swiftly in the next few days so they could drop him back at Wool's. He remembered seeing the normal children come and go, the families walking by the street and in the station whenever he walked alone to catch the train to and from school, how his classmates received mail every week and he remained completely alone. He had grown up unwanted and so he never expected otherwise, but even if he were prideful enough to never admit it, he desperately craved the idea of just being… normal. He thought back to that night the past summer, and his childish wish of what he wanted his non existent family to be like.

He blinked to hold back tears and nodded, his throat feeling too constricted to talk. The CPD worker smiled at him but he didn't really know if she wanted to say anything else because soon after he was wrapped in the arms of his professors— of his new family, and a weight he never knew he was carrying lifted off his shoulders.

He was going home, finally.

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.

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* In canon there was no indication that anybody else came to watch the tournament beyond the students and their guests, but I'd imagine it would be a rather grand occasion and many more would want to see it when the tournament was at its peak, so I've included a much wider audience even if they did not get screentime. Marzan would not focus on them either way, since he just wanted to survive.

* I did always intend for the dragon to make an appearance— is this way too much? Perhaps, but believe me when I say this is the last of Marzan's troubles in general. I did include some clues about it, in the shape of the acting up of his wand and also the section of the story itself where I explained why there was a dragon in the mountain to begin with. It is not very obvious, but his wand's core contains the blood of the dragon.

* I also did hint at the fact his professors acted much like his parents. That was indeed foreshadowing. While I appreciate some fics in which he remains by himself, I firmly believe he always deserved to have a family and to feel wanted after so many years of being tossed aside.

* While I do not know if many people will wonder, some may ask themselves; why would the Ministry accept a vampire adopting him? Well, short answer is that this is my fanfiction and I can do what I want. Long answer is that I'd imagine you can't just say no to an elder vampire— I only vaguely implied it once, but Elerhys is somewhat famous and as anyone would imagine, very powerful both in money and magic. And also they did prove they could take care of him without issue (and that Marzan fully trusted them), and the CPD would at least consider that.

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With this, part 2 is over, and we move onto fifth year. You will, absolutely, not believe what happens next.

As always, thank you very much for your support and time in reading this, it does mean a lot to me. I shall see you, hopefully, soon.