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?

16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 Notes:

We are back at it again—

CW; mentions of death, mostly murder. Also allusions to child abuse (Wool's orphanage).

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"Are you going to keep sulking for the rest of the year?"

Marzan didn't react to his father's merciless tease, stabbing his fork into his food. His head was being supported by his hand, an unusually unelegant gesture when he normally sat straight and well behaved. Nobody had told him off because it was just them in their private rooms, and because he truly hadn't been in a good mood for days.

"He's still mad at me" he mumbled, having no desire to eat.

"Well did you try to apologise like Alphard suggested?" Azure cheerily asked.

"I did" he unloaded his frustration against the poor mashed potatoes. "He slammed the bathroom door on my face"

His uncle couldn't help himself and started giggling, and Iraia slapped his twin's arm to make him stop. At the other side of the table, Nayaz leaned a bit towards Elerhys.

"Who is he trying to apologise to?" he asked in a whisper that everyone heard anyway.

"Abraxas Malfoy" Iraia pried the fork out of Marzan's fingers because he wasn't even eating his mangled food anyway, and sat it down on the table. "He probably needs space, dear. Just wait until the anger has worn off and try again"

That was easy to say, Abraxas was capable of holding grudges forever.

"Who is Abraxas Malfoy…?"

Right. His cousin had no idea of nothing just yet.

"One of my friends—"

"Marzan's boyfriend" Azure answered at the same time.

"—he got mad at me and—"

He paused, and then shot up abruptly, staring at his uncle who was casually eating his dessert. Everyone else at the table looked at him with mild concern or curiosity, but his brain was still trying to process and comprehend those words. He had heard it wrong, hadn't he? Why would Azure say that? It made no sense. Yes, it had to be that he was just thinking too much about it, that he was just too stressed to have a clear head.

"Marzan?" Iraia called softly.

He opened his mouth and then closed it again a second later, still having nothing to say. It was then that a flash of understanding crossed over Azure's empty white eyes.

"Oh! You're not dating yet, are you…? Oops"

"… I have to go"

Marzan stood up and half ran to the door, only hearing distantly how Iraia cussed at his brother in lightning fast mandarin before he closed the door behind him.

He walked in automatic back to the Common Room, for once his brain completely empty and devoid of thought. He didn't even speak the password, pacing up and down the corridor until some few younger students arrived, eyeing him strangely, and he walked in behind them. Everyone except the blond was there, even some of the girls of their year, and they all stared at him just the same when he paced a little in front of the couches before he stopped to face them.

"Are Abraxas and I dating?" he finally asked.

His friends and classmates exchanged glances.

"Well, no" Audrey Zabini cleared her throat, pushing her tight braids out of her face. "But you like each other. You knew that. Right?"

"We uh, we've been waiting to see how long it takes" Morgan Rosier admitted.

Marzan took a deep breath.

"Everyone knows" he said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah" a handful of them said in unison.

They all knew… but knew what exactly? That one day they would date, that they would… what? Have an affair, be some sort of—?

Marzan walked off towards the bedrooms.

He had always known too, deep down despite being too stupid to not see it. Abraxas had always looked at him differently, spoken to him differently. Even back then he had given him the entire world in a silver platter, let him take everything in his pointless goal to conquer the world, to the point he died for him. It was always him, looking at him over the rim of his cup while Voldemort laughed half inebriated that December 31st, a silent smile on his lips.

He stopped in front of their bedroom door.

Neither Hyperion nor Aliénor Malfoy had been any surprised that their son didn't want to marry Kseniya Vasilyeva, accepting it with ease. They never batted an eye when he dragged Marzan all over their beautiful manor, used to his quiet presence. Back then, Abraxas looked into his eyes and told him directly that he couldn't care less about that pretty girl… and he hadn't known what he meant by it. Not even when he was always nearby, correcting the slightest wrinkle of his robes and holding the weight of his body on a shared bed. Marzan knew those weren't normal things between friends, but he also didn't know… he just didn't know what they meant. He wasn't sure he truly knew what they meant now.

He opened the door and made sure it was closed behind him. Abraxas was laying on his bed with an open book he was holding above his head, already dressed comfortably to sleep. He didn't look up as Marzan crossed the room to stand next to him, still ignoring his presence as he'd been doing the entire week. His blond curls were spread around his head on the pillows like a golden halo, the living image of the angels and saints he grew up seeing in the church all the children at Wool's were taken to. But he was really a devil, born with enough poison in his veins to not bat an eye when Voldemort's hands were drenched in blood.

"I don't know if I like you"

Slowly the book was lowered, Abraxas' green eyes staring at him from above it while the open book covered the lower half of his face. Then he sat up, setting it aside on his nightstand, and Marzan sat at the edge of the bed to be face to face.

"I do know I can't, even if I did. There is a lot of things you don't know about me that I can't tell you, that I'll probably never tell" He couldn't know if he was even allowed to, Death had never said. He already was burdened with such guilt of keeping it a secret from his friends, his parents… but if he ever had a closer relationship with someone else, he could never stand to know he was living a permanent lie. "I'm sorry. I promise I will never worry you like that again"

For a moment they just looked at each other.

"You don't know that yet"

"I do. I'm not made for that- that stuff. I'm not someone made to love or be loved"

"That's not how the potion works, Marzan"

"I'm not talking about that, it's—! It's just me, It's just how I am"Marzan didn't really know what to do about the way he was looking at him. "I want you to get married to a girl from a good family, have a son, a normal life" he added in a whisper.

Maybe a wife that he would actually talk to. A son he would actually love. Abraxas tilted his head slightly.

"So is that all you want to say?"

"Can we not talk about it anymore?"

Another short silence, and then he leaned forwards. Not once did he break eye contact.

"Alright" he agreed. "Give me a kiss and I promise everything will go back to how it used to be. I won't burden you with my feelings anymore"

Marzan felt his face burn, and he quickly looked away. Of course he would ask, he had no shame in expressing what he wanted, that was Abraxas. But he didn't know what his confusing feelings meant at any point in time, and he had never even kissed anyone— not in this life, not in the one that had come before.

"You're ridiculous"

"It's just a kiss"

He didn't know what a kiss was supposed to be like.

"Why should I kiss you if we're going to forget about it?"

Abraxas moved closer until their knees were touching.

"Because that's what I want"

His fingers brushed against his jaw, sliding up until he was cupping his face and forcing him to turn to face him, and then his lips were on Marzan's. Just a fleeting touch that then deepened as his lips moved to claim his mouth. He accepted it, not moving and not knowing what to do he let him take the lead as he did with everything else. It was always just easier to agree to Abraxas' whims… so he allowed himself to be pushed down on the bed easily, finally answering clumsily and without rhythm, his fingers twitching where they grasped at the blond's nightshirt.

They could've laid there for a minute, or five, or twenty. It wasn't just a single kiss like Abraxas had asked for, but it also wasn't anything more than that. Eventually they parted, he looked up to his green eyes, and he still didn't know anything about his own heart.

"Goodnight, Brax"

Abraxas' fingers brushed against his lower lip and then he pulled his hand back.

"Goodnight, Marzan"

He sat up and left the bed, gathering his night clothes and going to their shared bathroom. When he stepped out and left his clothes on the laundry basket the other boys were all getting ready for bed as usual. They gave him curious looks, Alphard even looked a bit worried, but he only waved silently and bid them goodnight before he left the room wrapped in his cloak, silently leaving the now empty Common Room before curfew hit.

All the lights were already off in his parents' private chambers. From the living room he could see into Nayaz's room through the open door and he saw his cousin fast asleep, curled on his side and snoring softly. Marzan stopped for a second on his doorstep and turned off the dim light of the vanity, closing the door before he walked to the end of the hall, ignoring his own private bedroom that laid empty most of the year. As he expected, Elerhys was sat in bed reading a book in pitch darkness -he was a vampire, he rarely slept-, while Iraia stirred when he heard him come in, sitting up with a yawn.

"Marzan?" his baba asked sleepily.

"I've heard children tend to climb into their parents' beds"

Elerhys rolled his eyes and Iraia smiled, peeling back the covers. Marzan accepted the invitation, crawling to lay between the both of them. Iraia brushed his hair with his fingers, a gesture that inevitably helped him relax.

"I take it your conversation didn't go as planned?" he asked gently.

Marzan let out a small sigh.

"It went well, I guess" he closed his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it"

"You're not dating then?" Elerhys asked, his cold fingers pulling the long hair on his neck back. The movement was unexpectedly refreshing.

"No" he burrowed his nose into his baba's shoulder. "I told him no"

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Abraxas didn't look at him any differently the next day and Marzan sat with him as he always did, and let him fuss over his uniform as always, and let him be demaning like always too. What had changed, at the end of the day? Marzan still couldn't understand what he felt even when it was staring at him head on, he had grown feeling nothing and being nothing. He might've had a new life now, a better life, but the scars of the past would never be erased, they were part of who he was and what formed him into what he was today. Beneath the princeling with a good name and a good family laid the mass murderer who had broken the world to pieces, and beneath him laid the worthless orphan boy who had been convinced since the very beginning that he was a cold unfeeling statue who could do and feel nothing but pure evil. He couldn't understand empathy, kindness, compassion. He could feel guilt at least, and he could yearn for things he didn't deserve, but love? He couldn't love anything, not even himself. Especially himself. Maybe Abraxas did love him, but if he did then he deserved better, and Marzan wasn't willing to sacrifice him again. He wouldn't let him.

"You're being silly" Walburga had told him one day while they coincided in the prefect's bathroom. "You need to stop overthinking things. That's now how romance works"

"I only know how to overthink" he huffed in turn. "How's Prince?"

Walburga narrowed her eyes at him and then continued folding her clothes, already wrapped in a towel for the bath.

"Eileen is doing a bit better. I know she does want help, but she's used to being alone and invisible… it'll take time before she understands she deserves better. That she's stronger than she thinks"

Hopefully she would in time.

"Abraxas is a good choice, Marzan" her grey eyes focused on his. "Even if you don't end up loving him. You'd want for nothing, live in a beautiful house with house elves to do everything. You won't even have to give him children yourself. He'd be a good husband, especially for you"

Marzan looked down and then back up at her.

"I think you're a practical and intelligent woman, but you're still a woman. Your world is different from mine, and we won't ever understand how each other lives"

Walburga snorted.

"Right, you are" and she let out a long sigh, turning to see the bubbling water. "Even in this modern world, we still have to think about which husband would be less worse than the next"

Could he actually make the sacrifice all the girls in that school would do? … No. He was a boy, and he never had to sacrifice anything if he didn't want to. But it made him think a bit more about what all of it meant. Relationships could be only companionship, not commitment. Then he remembered an insipid and unloved Lucius Malfoy, and he discarded that train of thought.

He sat to dinner with his parents, uncle and cousin every night, seeing as he tutored Nayaz in his free time too, and started at their dynamics intensely while trying to understand it. There truly was nothing special to how Elerhys and Iraia acted, they were like two old friends to him. Maybe they were a bit more touchy, but rarely to the point a stranger would look and think they might be together, and if they did it was a small peck, a half hug, something fleeting and brief. They loved each other, Azure said it was in their eyes, but Marzan didn't know what people's eyes said unless he got into their heads and he hadn't used his legilimency on anyone since his past life. He had asked about it and got some vague poetic lines that meant nothing to him. Then he asked Nayaz, who shrugged and said he had 'no bloody idea', to which Iraia had scolded him for his language, and pinched Marzan's ear when he commented that wasn't a real cuss word. They were sent to study without dessert while Azure laughed.

Nayaz was smart, even if he was inexperienced and young. He had gone to school only until sixth grade, and he couldn't read or write fluently, much less with a quill, so most of their review of the first years books were done orally before they spent an hour each night to practice writing. Marzan had gotten him a fountain pen to get him used to the feeling of writing with ink before a quill, and tried to teach him all the tips and tricks to get the hang of it quickly.

"I can't even understand what you write" he had said frowning. "It's all swirly and confusing"

Nayaz' letters were spaced apart, often not written continuously and big. Next to it, Marzan's were an elegant hand in fluid calligraphy.

"I've practiced for years. When I first took up a quill it was just as hard. Try doing the warmups, and repeat it all until it feels natural. You have to loosen your wrist, be in control of your hand" He turned to lay on his back atop his cousin's rug, staring at the dark ceiling. "How are you doing in potions?"

Nayaz sighed and stood up to grab a phial from his shelf.

"Elerhys said it's not the worst he's seen, but that I need a lot more work" he explained as he showed him the pale yellow liquid.

Marzan grabbed it and swirled it to see it against the light.

"Remember what I told you; don't think about the result, think about the steps. In fact, block away all the indicators in the instructions. If you don't know what colour it should look like, you'll have a lot less anxiety about meeting those goals" he gave it back. "And don't rush. Breathe deeply, relax, and do it at your own pace. All the potions that are time sensitive are far above your level, and when you get to them you'll be good enough to handle them. I promise"

His cousin grabbed the phial and looked at it as he analysed his words.

"You're a good teacher" he finally said after a minute.

Marzan laughed and looked up at the ceiling again.

"I wanted to he a professor when I was a naive little kid"

Now he'd grown too far and seen too much.

"I wanted to be a pilot. The planes never scared me even with the bombings… but you don't have planes here"

Marzan turned his head towards him, feeling a lot more grim out of sudden.

"It's going to be over soon"

"Well I hope so" Nayaz started back up with his calligraphy. "I definitely don't want to see more war. But I heard you have it here too"

"Ugh" he grabbed a book from their pile, a second year transfiguration one. "Grindelwald is an unoriginal idiot who was born with far too much privilege to understand what the fuck he's doing"

Nayaz burst out laughing.

"Marzan Gaunt, watch that mouth!" Iraia called from the living room.

"I didn't say anything bad!"

"Rhys, see how your son behaves"

"He's like that because you coddle him"

They heard Iraia smack him and Elerhys' vague protest, and both of them laughed quietly to avoid another scolding. If Marzan ever spoke with the accent of his childhood and the filthy words he'd learnt in that orphanage, Iraia would likely wash his mouth with soap and ground him for the rest of eternity.

"And what does Grindelwald do?"

Marzan looked at him. He was only sixteen. He wished he had never been born in these times, but which times were any better?

"They hunt muggles for sport, and for pleasure" he replied softly. "His followers believe wizards are superior, that if we had control of the world we could fix it. He insists he doesn't hate them, that he doesn't want to eliminate them, but he's working towards a genocide too. He's no different from Hitler"

Nayaz was pensive for a second.

"And do many people believe in him?"

"A lot, but not enough. He's getting desperate, careless. Soon he will make a fatal mistake"

He just hoped he would not fall to Dumbledore now. He couldn't stand to think of the damned goat becoming a hero again… but the clock was ticking. Next year, things would start to get bad and they wouldn't get any better until 1945.

"Do you think there'll be peace then?"

Voldemort wouldn't exist here, but anyone else could take his place. Even Dumbledore.

"I don't know. Maybe"

Soft steps made it towards the door and they both turned. Iraia offered them a soft smile.

"It's late. You both have a lot to do tomorrow. Will you sleep here tonight, Marzan?"

It was already past curfew, but he had a prefect badge anyway.

"It's fine, I'll go to the dorms. My things are there and my uniform too"

He stood up and helped gather the books from the floor before he walked to the door.

"Night, Nayaz"

"Goodnight"

Iraia kissed his temple when he walked out of their rooms, watching from the doorway until he disappeared down the hall.

In the dorm everyone was asleep. Marzan stared at Abraxas' back for a long time before he finally closed his eyes that night.

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Dear Marzan,

I apologise for how long it has taken me to pick up this pen to write to you. After sixteen years of absence another couple months seem insignificant, and yet they only remind me of how much I have missed already. I admit our last meeting left me confused and thoughtful about many things, but that is no excuse.

You must be back in school, and I imagine you must be very busy… you said you were a prefect after all, and that you had important exams coming up. Make sure to study well, although I already have seen for myself just how brilliant you are.

For me, things are as simple as ever. My life is wholly uninteresting and repetitive, an endless cycle I cannot break. I have thought about your mother a lot these past weeks, about how we met and how I left, about what could've been if I had tried to stand her presence and stayed. But the more I look at myself in the mirror the more I realise I am a broken man that could've never been the father you truly deserve. That has only become more evident seeing you with your family, with two parents that know what they are doing. I looked for you to soothe my parents' urges, to find a connection by blood because of misconceptions and unfounded prejudices, and in the process I hurt you and brought a stain on your life that was already good and perfect.

I don't know if you can ever forgive me… I don't think you should.

I haven't known you for long, but the fire you have in you is powerful enough to change this world. Whenever you speak you have the eyes of every person in the room, you hold their very hearts and minds in your hands to use as you please. You never say empty meaningless words, only truths even if others aren't prepared to hear them. I want to learn from that, I desperately want to understand how you can trust yourself and hold yourself high with confidence… because I can't. I confess I still feel like a seventeen year old boy, alone and confused in a world where I don't belong, yet unable to reach out for the door that leads out. I haven't found joy in this life again since then, I haven't been able to leave this primordial fear behind and instead I have let it drag me down until everyone I knew ran ahead and left me in the dust.

I am scared. I don't think I can be anything for you except a useless shadow… But I want to try. I have to try. I promise I will try to get better, that I will try to understand and learn to catch up with you.

I would very much like it if one day I could call you my son.

With love,

Tom Riddle

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Another week gone. February was nearing its end when Marzan received the first letter from his biological father. It'd been read both by Lucille and his parents before they approved of giving it to him, and he'd spent an entire hour sprawled on the couch of their quarters analysing every word until he decided he would answer. He had needed some help to make it less blunt and a little softer, but he hoped it would be good enough… for now this was how they would communicate, by letter. Once summer break started he would consider if they could meet in person again, but for now it was a possibility. After all, this time he had been the one to make the effort without his grandparents interfering, so he had some hope of making it work.

He had spent a lot more time tutoring Nayaz, occupying his hours with all the things he needed to do and not that kiss(es) he shared with Abraxas. And well, he mostly succeeded, until he went back to the dorm rooms early one afternoon to find Alphard and Orion sprawled on the latter's bed— he had turned around immediately and seen nothing inappropriate, but suffice to say he was once again thinking about it, the one thing he did not want to do.

He had nobody to talk to, not when he had so many thoughts about the past… the only one who knew was HanQiang, but they didn't have the sort of relationship where he could vent his deepest secrets. The dragon cared about him to an extent, but he was still a dragon and he didn't understand human emotions any better than he did. Then was the obscurial, half sentient and half not, able to have enough independence to have its own whims and expressions, but evidently it didn't go much further because when he had tried asking he only got a confused squeeze back. And so one night after tutoring he didn't go back to the dorms, instead slipping down to the Chamber.

Salazar had thrown the mess on his desk all over the ground, and put a cauldron on top of it instead. By now Marzan had learnt that he had, miraculously somehow, linked the entire studio to his portrait which meant that in a way the entire studio was the portrait. Every book and every paper put in the real desk would appear inside the painting, and every ingredient and potion made was just the same… which meant that when he walked in he had to carefully step over loose documents and books that had ended up in front of the door. The real life ingredients and ladle were moving in the air too, mirroring Salazar's movements.

«Ah, if it isn't the little demon» Salazar commented without looking up. «You hadn't come visit in some time»

«Hello, grandfather» he sighed, dropping his weight on the chaise. He had resorted to calling him that for simplicity's sake. «I'm sorry, I was a lot busier than I expected. A whole lot of things have happened the past few months»

Salazar made a vague hmm sound.

«What sort of things?»

Marzan turned his head to look at him better. Salazar's hair was always in the same style, gathered at mid back because his ribbon would slide down and he never fixed it, although he was wearing a robe that day, one in deep red richly embroidered with gold, the ample sleeves being rolled back as to not obstruct his hands since it was big. It dragged on the floor too, so it did not belong to him.

«My biological father found out I exist. We met, it was very awkward… we are exchanging letters now. He's a muggle and he doesn't understand this whole thing, and he's very afraid of magic too. Then when I thought that might be the craziest thing that could happen to me I find out I have a cousin I had never met, who's exactly my age and who knows nothing of the magic world. And as if that wasn't enough then I found out my best friend likes me and I let him kiss me even though I rejected his feelings and I can't stop thinking about it»

Salazar's eyebrows rose as he rambled, and eventually he pulled out his wand to put a stasis spell on the potion, walking forwards to the foregeound of the painting. Marzan made sure to repeat the spell because unlike physical things moving, spells inside the portrait were not real, and the potion in the real study was bound to explode otherwise.

«That… does sound like a lot of usual teenager drama»

He let out a humourless laugh.

«Yeah well that's the thing, I'm not a teenager» he mumbled, staring at the messy floor.

«You're sixteen, aren't you?»

Marzan hesitated, left a second or two of silence for Death to intervene if he truly wasn't supposed to say it, and then figured it was fine when it didn't.

«Actually…» he sat up, still looking at the floor. «I'm eighty seven, if we count all the years I've been alive. Several millennia if we count those I spent dead»

The study was silent except for the sound of the fire in the chimney and below the cauldron, and he didn't dare look up to his ancestor either. He didn't really know if he wanted to see what someone's reaction to the news was.

«Wait here for a moment»

Marzan actually looked up, but Salazar was already disappearing at the edge of the portrait, and he sank back on the chaise for a moment. Was that good? Bad? Maybe he should've waited to see his face and his expression because he hated not knowing. One minute passed, then two, then three… about seven minutes later, Salazar reemerged from the left side of the portrait and gestured to him.

«Stand up, go to the wall opposite to the door»

Confused, he stood up and made his way over. The wall was completely smooth.

«Tap the stone with my wand twice at your chest level, directly in front lf your right shoulder»

Oh.

Marzan tapped the stone wall as asked, and the wall seemed to move in a ripple. He didn't need to be told to step forwards and walk through it. At the other side was a small corridor and a door, which opened easily as he pushed it to find that he was in a new chamber…

This room was very nice and spacious, a wide circle with clear pools surrounding a platform where a nice table for tea rested, topped with a spotless white mantle and a fancy tea set. The ceiling was glass much like the dormitories in Slytherin were, except this room had a nice chandelier casting a warm light. There were four doors that led there, and in one part of the wall in perfect view and mirror of the chamber, there was a huge painting of the very same table, although instead it was resting in a nice sunny garden. Salazar entered the painting through the right side, now completing the sight of… well… all four founders.

Next to Salazar was Godric Gryffindor, a very tall and slender man of very few expressions, having semi curly dark red hair that spilled down to his shoulders and that he had half gathered atop his head as a small ponytail with a black ribbon. He wore semi casual clothing, although he was missing a robe, which he immediately knew was the one Salazar was wearing— he looked almost like a child in it because Godric was a full head taller than him, and despite being slender he still had a broader frame. He was very handsome, with intense golden eyes. After him was Rowena Ravenclaw, an elegant woman of raven dark hair spilling loose down her back, dressed in a blue summer gown adorned with stars. She had a sharper face with bright blue eyes, and she wore fine sapphire earrings that complimented them very well. She too was taller than Salazar by an inch or two. Lastly was Helga Hufflepuff, matching Salazar in height but with a fuller figure than Rowena, her dress being a nice green with ample white sleeves. She had very light brown hair, curly and gathered with lace in a braided crown, and her face was very kind, her amber eyes expressing warmth.

"Oh, there he is! Look at him, he looks exactly like our Salazar" Helga brought a hand to her chest. She had the courtesy of speaking Latin, being their only shared language.

Marzan felt severely underdressed and unprepared as he walked to the platform and bowed.

"Um, it's an honour to meet you, Lady Hufflepuff…"

"No need for formalities! We are all family here" and she turned towards Salazar, speaking a bit softer. "He's adorable"

He felt himself blush and he half glared at Salazar in reproach, who waved it off casually.

"He has told us a lot about you, young Marzan" Rowena spoke. Her voice was deeper than he expected, calm and soothing. "He may not say it but he is proud of having you as his descendant"

"Oh. I… thank you"

"Come, sit with us, let's have some tea. I'm afraid you'll have to summon your own, but we can accompany you…" Helga gestured for him to grab one of the many chairs. "I apologise for our lack of amenities, but at least it must be better than Salazar's mess of a room"

"It's not a mess, I know exactly where everything is" he clicked his tongue.

"On the floor?" Godric asked dryly.

Helga, Rowena and Marzan all laughed at that while Salazar kicked him under the table. Marzan summoned himself some water and a bag of tea from the kitchens, preparing his tea in one of the available cups.

"Ah, it is nice to have a guest with us" Helga sighed. "The last time we ever had visits was from Salazar and mine's children. An awful long time ago!"

"At least our portraits are linked to each other, we'd have been driven insane otherwise" Rowena pointed.

"I can't imagine" he commented. "Being here in these empty rooms that nobody knew existed"

They nodded a bit somberly.

"It has been quite a lonely existence" Rowena confirmed. "But, that is enough of us for the time being… Salazar said something was troubling you. He said you needed someone to talk to"

That, he did. Marzan looked at the four of them and… he found he didn't mind this. They were earnestly and honestly glad to meet him, and even interested in what he had to say despite only meeting him moments ago.

"Well— Yes. I suppose he told you that I'm not exactly a sixteen year old boy"

Godric nodded silently.

Marzan sighed and took a sip of his tea.

"I guess I should start from the top" The very first beginning… "December 31st, 1926, at exactly 18:47 in the afternoon, when Merope Gaunt gave birth in London at Wool's Orphanage. She only lived long enough to hold her child once, and she named him Tom, after his father, Marvolo, after her father, and gave him the last name Riddle from a paternal family that would never want him. In a way it was convenient that she gave birth there, he had nothing else in the world anyway. Tom Riddle was added to the rest of the unfortunate children staying there" And what a sad existence it was. So few of them ever got adopted, most of them simply aged out. "And from day one, he was the devil itself… that's what magic looks like to muggles anyway. There was something utterly wicked with him ever since he was a mere babe, and no amount of beatings or exorcisms could take it out of him. The other children hated him in the same amount that they were afraid of him, the same way they were afraid of how he had hung that rabbit from the roof, and how he had broken those two boys during that trip to the beach… so they were all happy when eleven years after that December 31st a strange man came to deliver him a letter, and he was gone to school"

In his mind he could see Tom Riddle, malnourished and weak, worth less than dirt.

"He was sorted into Slytherin, where all the purebloods heirs spat on his worthless mudblood face… but that boy was the devil. He never let anyone walk over him, his wickedness could work even against wizards, and year by year, word by word he had their necks laid beneath his feet. Even those who still hated him knew that they were not good enough to defeat him, and could only seethe in silence from afar. His first true evil was that young third grade Ravenclaw… Myrtle Warren. An accident, but one that would change everything forever. The first of many… the first of seven horrocruxes, seven mutilations to the soul" Marzan closed his eyes for a second, and opened them again. "The next year when he was sixteen, he murdered his father and his family, and made the second one. With the fall of Grindelwald rose the next Dark Lord, the worst Magical Britain had seen in modern history; Lord Voldemort. He was monster, a true horror, and he was brought down by his own hubris reflected in the form of a child he had tried to kill once. And who knows… maybe that same boy turned out to be his heir as well. I don't know, I was dead"

He looked at the lukewarm tea, pushing some warmth to his fingertips with his magic until it was steaming once again.

"I don't know how long I drifted in the Void. It was at least long enough for all my anger to subside, for myself to finally mature and see beyond my stupidity. When I did, It came for me. Death, Magic, the Universe, whatever you wish to call it. It gave me a purpose, a new goal; go back and change it all, prevent the end of the magic world as we know it. The next thing I knew I was laying in the ashes of Wool's Orphanage at eleven years old…"

The painting had other noises, he noticed. Birds chirping, the far away sound of running water from a fountain.

"I did a lot of terrible things, far more than I even remember. Ever since I came back I slowly started to realise how guilty I felt for all of it, how much I regretted letting myself be used for others' purposes and games. I tried to move past it, tried to learn to be human in a way I could never be before, but I still can't understand. I don't know how to do this, especially when every person I care about doesn't know about the massacre I have in my hands. Even if I say I'm trying to be better, I'm still living as a liar" He looked down at his hands, slender boney fingers and old faded scars. "I don't even know what I actually am; part of me is the sixteen year old boy with a family and friends, the one who can have a normal life and enjoy it. But the other is a calamity that still loves the scent and taste of blood, just observing what it shouldn't have from beneath the surface, like a wild animal incorrectly rewarded after mauling an entire village"

Voldemort's hands had been even thinner and deathly pale, but who cared if they looked different? They were one and the same. He hadn't forgotten all the ways he could kill a man with and without his wand, nor any of the bloody rituals he had learnt from the most obscure books in the world.

"Hmm, this is truly fascinating…" Salazar mumbled to himself, tapping at his chin and lost in thought.

The four of them were pensative, although they didn't look disgusted or anything of the sort. They should, but they didn't.

"You have truly done a lot of things that cannot be taken back or fixed" Rowena finally spoke after a moment, taking her cup to her lips calmly. "Even if you were to apologise for them it would he pointless… but this miraculous second chance you have been given means you can atone for those crimes. The fact that you feel burdened by all of those memories is already a step in the right direction; you made the choice of being a different man. Carrying them will be your penance, and it will all depend on how you act from here on"

He hadn't thought of it that way, but she was right. Being unable to forget was the very least he could do… what right did he have to forget? He had chosen to commit all those crimes, feeling guilty was the bare minimum.

"And what an opportunity it is!" Salazar nodded quickly. "Death itself… There isn't even a single record of rumour to record such a thing happening ever before. Granted, it could've still happened, but as far as we know you are the first. And it was not anyone else, it was you. I would say that speaks a lot about what you are capable of doing if you only channel it into the right place"

"Are you saying I am capable of being good?" he asked, a bit hesitant.

Helga gave him a compassionate look.

"That girl you mentioned, Myrtle Warren… where is she now?"

"I taught her how to throw a punch and told her to stand up to her bullies" he confessed, embarrassed.

"Would you have done that before, in that other life?"

"No" he said without hesitation. "Never"

She gave him a knowing look and he smiled sheepishly. Alright, maybe he wasn't as terrible as he thought he was.

"Is this why you rejected the boy who told you he liked you?" Salazar asked casually.

"Oh, there's a boy!" Helga said, delighted.

Marzan blushed yet again.

"Grandfather!" he protested out of principle.

"Well, is it or not?"

He covered his face with a hand, mortified.

"Yes… But it's not the only reason! I barely understand my emotions, I don't even know how they're supposed to work, it just wouldn't be fair"

"That is understandable" Rowena nodded. "A romantic bond is very close, and you don't want to hurt him by accident"

"He said it's fine if we don't talk about it, but now it's in my head" he sighed, sinking down on his chair.

"Then don't think about it" Godric offered, speaking up for the first time since the beginning. "Shove it in a box and lock it up—"

"Godric, repressing our emotions is not good" Helga protested.

"Will you let me finish?" he replied, giving her a vaguely annoyed look.

She raised her hands innocently and Marzan managed a small smile.

"What I was going to say next is that you lock up that box and make it so that you can only unlock it once you're ready to confront it"

Hmm, shoving them aside for the more important things until he could have enough time to analyse it and truly decide if he could reciprocate. It wasn't a bad idea at all.

"Postponing it until I know how feelings are supposed to work…"

"Precisely"

Rowena sighed.

"Well, that is a very unhealthy way to cope with it, but given that young Marzan is new to all of this, it'll work. And if he's anything like Salazar, it will suit the way his brain works"

She hadn't meant it as a compliment, but Salazar looked pleased nonetheless. He smiled and nodded.

"Thank you, truly… this helped me clear my mind a lot. I didn't know how badly I needed to talk to someone about it"

Godric nodded, his golden eyes staring at his.

"Keeping secrets can be overwhelming. They always fight and struggle to get out"

Well, he would know best. Nobody had any clue about his past, not even his closest friends, and as evidenced by their nonchalance about said statement they had given up on asking long ago.

"I hope you're not leaving yet, the loneliness gets to us" Helga sighed.

"It must be late already" Rowena shook her head.

Marzan calculated according to his internal clock. It was, a bit, but he wasn't very sleepy.

"I can stay for a while longer. I'm glad to make you company, it is an honour for me"

"As is for us! You're the first of any descendants we've ever seen since our own children were here" Helga served another round of tea for them as she spoke, a bit nostalgic about the past. "Tell me, is there any more in the castle?"

Marzan felt a bit sorry inevitably.

"I'm afraid it's only me and my cousin. Your bloodline… the last one is a woman called Hepzibah Smith, she's old and has no more family, and I believe she's only a distant relative. And as for… uncle? Godric, it is also only far away relatives, in the bloodline of Ignotus Peverell, of which their living descendants are the Potters. They have two boys my age, twins called Charlus and Fleamont"

Godric didn't look too upset, although Helga did give a sad sigh.

"I see… ah, it's a shame… but nothing is meant to last forever. At least I can comfort myself knowing my legacy lives on in this castle"

"And that you lived a happy life" he offered tentatively.

Helga smiled gently.

"Just so"

At the other side of their table Salazar had reached to drink the tea, holding his hair away from his face with a hand. The two women looked at him with fond annoyance, and Godric wordlessly reached over to untie his ribbon. With a fascinating familiarity he gathered Salazar's silky smooth hair, spun it over and folded it into a little loop at the base of his neck, where he tied it off again now successfully pulling it back.

"How are you the eldest?" he mumbled, complaining about his carelessness.

Marzan smiled and raised his own cup to his lips.

"You were like family"

Rowena looked at him and nodded, suddenly a lot more sad.

"We were… are still, in what way we can be. And there was a time, short as it was, when we had the entire world"

Helga and Godric placed each a hand on her shoulders in support and Marzan put his cup down, standing from his chair and pulling a different one closer to the portrait, turning it to face it and sitting with his legs up to his chest.

"You listened to me, the least I can do is listen to you"

Salazar offered him a small smile, proud of him and also grateful. He was the first to stand up and sit down on the grass in front of the table, folding his legs in a lotus position. Eventually the other three discarded all formality and followed, with Rowena tucked at Godric's side, who sat with his back leaning on the table's leg and his legs extended forwards.

"Hogwarts was our pride and joy" Salazar said, fingers fidgeting with his burrowed robe. "It was a new beginning for all of us, and united us as a single strong family. At the beginning the only child in it was Helena… she was just three when we met her, but she was a joy"

"They all raised her. We did it together" Rowena added quietly.

Salazar nodded as he looked down at the grass.

"Eventually all of us had our own children, all of them a beautiful addition, and in those golden years we felt invincible. But then… then Helena left"

Rowena closed her eyes and Godric squeezed her hand.

"We looked for her, we never stopped looking for her" Helga sighed. "But we never found a trace. We couldn't move on, but we still moved forwards as best as we could, trying our best to keep it together for the children we had left. And then—" she made a wounded sound and sobbed. "Then Salazar vanished"

He didn't raise his head and Marzan saw him reach over to hold her hand. In this portrait they were so young, likely taken before any of their children but Helena existed, and they had only observed it all from the outside, but they knew and they felt it anyway. They were still an imprint of who the founders had been, a reflection of their soul left behind.

"We had to accept he was gone when his youngest son brought back his wand" she continued, sniffing quietly. "But it was too much for Rowena. She couldn't handle any more pain… I thought maybe Godric and I could rely on each other, but eventually he got sick"

"Nobody had seen it before" Salazar tore a few blades of grass from the ground in frustration. "He got sicker and sicker in that hospital bed, and where was I? To what use was my supposed genius if I couldn't be here for my friend when he needed me? This version of myself is young and inexperienced, he needed the real me, and I wasn't here"

"It was not your fault, Sal" Godric evidently didn't blame him at all. But Salazar did.

"Helga lived the rest of the life we didn't live" Rowena finished. "She fulfilled our dreams and took care of Godric and Salazar's descendants"

Listening to that tale, he could tell they had a lot of old regrets… while their story had certainly been happy, it had also been painful. It had started at a hard point in time, and despite how hard they worked to make the world a better place, they still had their hearts broken and their family torn apart by cruel fate. But there was— Marzan thought it over, about everything they'd said.

"You said Helena went missing?" he asked to corroborate.

Rowena nodded silently.

"My real self never found a trace of her, never"

What? But that couldn't be. Marzan frowned.

"But she's in the castle"

To that she shot up, and all of them turned to him with wide eyes.

"She is?" she urged him, a certain desperation lining her voice.

"Yes, she— she's known as the Grey Lady, her ghost wanders around the Ravenclaw tower. They call her the ghost of their house"

They exchanged glances.

"But that's… she never came back while our known descendants were alive" Helga muttered.

"Ghosts don't always come back immediately" Salazar blurted out, as always quick with his encyclopedic knowledge. "Even though the choice to stay would be instantaneous to them, research suggests time moves in a different manner for the dead, and it could be years before they appear in the world of the living"

Oh, but then… Marzan felt a knot in his throat.

"She… she died when she left" he said quietly.

Silence. He took a shaky breath.

"She was already dead, she was the first to die" he repeated, not any happy to have to tell them about it. "I spoke to her back when I was Tom Riddle, she told me about it when I asked. She ran to Albania, and that man who used to like her and wanted to marry her, he followed her. He wanted to convince her to come back, but she was ashamed of having stolen from you, she didn't want to face you. He flew into a rage and… and after he killed her, he took his own life"

For a second they were all too shaken to react, but then Rowena covered her face with her hands and let out a heart wrenching wail, sobbing desperately. All that time she had looked for her daughter hoping that she'd find her, and she had been gone already. If Helena had just been mad, if she simply hadn't wanted to see her family anymore, then Rowena would've been able to live with that… but not this. No mother could handle to hear a truth as horrible as that.

"His ghost is here too" Marzan said quietly, hugging his knees a bit tighter. "They call him the Bloody Baron, the ghost of Slytherin House"

Slowly, he saw something new form in the face of his ancestor. Marzan had only known him for a short time, but he had only seen him be kind and friendly. Not now… the murderous rage in his eyes could rival the one Voldemort used to see in the mirror.

"The ghost… of my house?" he asked through gritted teeth. "The murderer of my beloved niece?"

Marzan nodded slowly.

Salazar's green eyes were almost glowing, an invisible breeze rustling his hair. There was no breeze in the painting.

"Has Lord Voldemort ever killed a ghost?"

Hmm. Not that he remembered…

"There's a first time for everything"

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"You've been acting strange"

Marzan looked up from his book. His friends were all staring.

"I'm just a bit busy. I have some notes to make for professor Merrythought and patrol later tonight" he explained as he made another quick annotation on his parchment, the last to complete the citations on his homework. "I'll probably sleep in my parents' rooms"

He started to put everything away and once he was done he turned to smile at them.

"Why don't we go to Hogsmeade this weekend? There's someone I'd like you to meet"

They exchanged glances and Abraxas stared at him in silence as if trying to peer into his thoughts. Marzan offered him a reassuring smile.

"Alright" he agreed. "This weekend"

"I'll see you later then"

Most of the prefect rounds were short, so he had to work quickly. In less than a week he'd memorised exactly where and when the Bloody Baron would be; ghosts in general followed patterns and old habits that they had when they were alive, and he wasn't any different. The silencing wards were set at both ends of the chosen hallway, exactly where he knew that nobody was going to come at night, and just in case he set an alarm in case anyone did, which he severely doubted. A part of him was giddy. He still liked this, he missed the thrill of a hunt and the intoxicating rush of power felt when one takes a life. Well, death in this case…

The Bloody Baron appeared at ten fifteen through one of the walls, completely ignoring Marzan at the end of the hallway as he continued floating down his path. Then, he froze entirely mid air and became wide alert, but he could do nothing to interact with the glowing runes carefully drawn on the floor.

"Don't bother, it can only be broken by a living being"

The head of the ghost snapped towards him. Marzan had his wand in hand as he calmly walked up to him, watching him squirm uselessly. The baron had been young when he died, a bit handsome he supposed, with blood always dripping down his hair and face. Whether it was his or Helena's, he couldn't tell.

"You see, a common misconception people tend to have is to think ghosts are immaterial and impossible to be interacted with" He started to say calmly, twirling his wand between his fingers. "But ghosts are just wandering souls. And I happen to be very well knowledgeable on the matters of soul trapping magic"

He stopped a few steps away, letting him stew in the fear and uncertainty. He considered letting him know exactly why he was doing this, but honestly… did he really deserve it? It was much better to strike without warning.

The last thing the Bloody Baron saw before he ceased to exist was the glowing red eyes of Lord Voldemort and his hand reaching out towards him.

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* The lore of the founders is a topic that fascinates me, as I have made evident multiple times in this fanfic. One instance that never left my mind was the story of Helena Ravenclaw, and how she lives in a castle with her literal murderer, and somehow that is never addressed. But alas, it has been a long time since I last had any faith in canon being any good. The story I have given them now is very tragic and sad… a lot of loose ends and unanswered questions remain, but we can't always have perfect answers for everything.

* How ghosts work is never explained fully, but it is mentioned that upon dying they can choose to remain… or at least that is what I remember. I may have read it on a fanfic for all I know. Either way, I have chosen to interpret it that way and ghosts are thus souls who refuse to move on… and souls can be destroyed, as proved by a certain Potter.

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Well! Another chapter down.

Oh? What's that? You thought Marzan had figured something out? Ha! No, don't give him any credit, he's still on square one. I guarantee you he will likely even forget all this even happened by the end of the year.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I certainly did writing it— finished it in a single sitting in fact.

As always comments and kudos are appreciated, and I shall see you -hopefully- soon!