Silk Roads by GenderlessPerson-RifHHC82

Silk Roads
By: GenderlessPerson
When the road you're on is already in the verge of crumbling, you could
either choose to foolishly continue onward, or turn back and change paths.
Harry decided on the latter. MoD!Harry, Slash, LV/HP, MPreg
Status: ongoing
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2017-01-15
Words: 169723
Chapters: 25
Rated: Fiction M - Language: English - Genre: Adventure/Family -

Characters: [Harry P., Voldemort] Tom R. Jr. - Reviews: 1,342 - Favs: 3,883
- Follows: 4,037
Original source: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10678294/1/Silk-Roads
Exported with the assistance of FicHub.net

Silk Roads
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Rants of doom
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Christmas Special
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Valentine's Day Special
Chapter 20
Mother's Day Special
Chapter 21
Chapter 1
Summary: When the road you're on is already in the verge of
crumbling, you could either choose to foolishly continue
onward, or turn back and change paths. Harry decided on the
latter. MoD!Harry
Pairings: Older Harry/Voldemort, other side pairings
Warning: AU, Time-Travel, Universe Hopping, New Identity,

Slash (this means Boy/Boy), MasterOfDeath!Harry,
Killings/Torture
Disclaimer: If I were the author of Harry Potter, Dumble would

have chocked on a Lemon and drop dead, not AK-ed. So no, I
do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter 1: Traveling through space and time
In a barely lit room with only an unmade bed and a dark-tainted

window, there was a man sitting on a cushioned throne, simply
staring outside blankly. A stranger that has never laid eyes upon him
would even mistaken him for a doll, if his chest were not moving that
is.
Other than his youthful appearance of a late teen, he represents a

weary old man with jaded scarlet eyes behind those round framed
rose-tinted glasses perched atop his nose. His whole being ripples
with barely tamed power at random intervals, distorting the air that
surrounds him in an almost chaotic yet lazy manner.
The state of the air outside his homely wards were polluted, forcing
him to wear his neoprene half-mask that was charmed with an air-
ventilator charm -which he was currently laying on his nightstand- if
he wishes to go hunting for food or entertainment.
He missed the sky that was once upon a time blue-now an awful
shade of dark green with a tint of black, or the ocean that used to be
so vast and beautiful, now just a desolated wasteland of sand and
bones. He could no longer stand the sight of his crumbling planet, so
he hid the ugliness behind his rose-tinted glasses that he had stolen
many decades ago.
Gaia's fate had long been decided. She would crumble. No matter
how much she cried or pleaded with him in her bouts of insanity. He
had learnt the hard way how to ignore her pleas, lest She broke his
mind. Even with all the power the man held within the palm of his
hand, he could never produce an offspring to help his dying Planet
without a partner who isn't infertile. The other reason would be that
he fears being involved -not that he would openly admit it- as he has
not had any good human contact in his life; more so after being
forcefully restrained on a cold metal table where he was littered with
incisions on a daily basis.
He had developed a condition called merinthophobia, much to his

disgust and self-hatred.
The man -for that was what he is, and he could never be called a
boy even if he were to look the part- turned towards his only
companion on his lap; a common garter snake that he had stumbled
across, and started to hiss out a random conversation to distract his
wondering mind from those awful skin breaking wires they called
restraints.
Just as his state of mind began to waver in his usual bouts of

insanity, a dark mist started to form out of the corner of his eyes. This
caused his damaged mind sharpen and focus, wanting and sincerely
hoping that it was someone or something magical.
His wish was soon answered when a hooded figure was formed, its
cloak billowing eerily and its hood shading its features. The cloaked
figure was tall; around six three, and thin.
They both stared at one another behind their shades before the man
with the piercing scarlet eyes spoke up.
"State your name and purpose of your visit." His voice was raspy
from years of disuse, but it still came out strong and demanding. The
man's accent was unusual, if one were to not know he had talked in
the tongue of serpents for decades.
"I am Death." The cloaked being introduced itself with a somewhat

airy and carefree tone.
The man conjured a needle and nicked himself on his forearm. It had
itched. He dropped the needle and watched as it disappeared just
before touching the ground with disinterest.
"You are neither dreaming nor hallucinating."
"Why have you come? Are you here to take me away?" The man
questioned once more as his blazing scarlet eyes narrowed in
suspicion, yet there was hope as well. Hope that this being would
take away all his suffering and let him rest with his loved ones.
"Take you away? In a way." The being answered slowly.
The only indication that he was listening was the subtle twitch of his
crossed ankles. Death glided towards the seated man, and stopped
at an arm's length.
This made the man stiffen, but he refused to move away or show
any signs of weakness.
"You should have noticed by now, that you do not age like normal
humans, both Muggle -or Parasites by your dictionary- and Wizard
alike." The scarlet eyed man hummed his agreement, but remained
silent. "Death is eternal, and so is its Master. As I exist forever, so do
you, Master of Death."
"… Master of Death?"

Then it clicked.
"The Hallows…"
"Correct. Just like wands, the Hallows choose their rightful master;
you were and are the only one worthy enough to hold all three."
Death saw that its Master was unable to form words, so it dropped
the subject momentarily. "The humans are slowly dying, and so is
this Planet along with Magic. The road you walk is already on the
verge of crumbling. Will you go onwards, or will you turn back and
change paths?"
The newly pronounced Master of Death snapped from his daze-like

state. "Are you indicating that alternate universes do indeed exist?"
"Certainly."
A simple yet unnerving answer. The Master of Death continued to

look fixedly at his servant (?) before he furrowed his brows in
suspicion. The whole thing sounded too good to be true. He would
rather this being reap him and be done with it.
"What do you require in exchange if I were to agree?"
Death shrugged elegantly.
The man hummed in thought. He could recklessly agree and change

roads, or he could continue rotting away in this wasteland called
Earth. Tough choice. The scarlet eyed man snorted inwardly.
"I have questions."
Death gave a small nod.
"How are you going to move me if I were to agree?"
"As we will be staying for an unlimited amount of time, Master will

become an infant." Death simplified. They were silent for a few more
minutes before the man's brow twitched.
"It would be greatly appreciated if you were to elaborate."
Death chuckled lowly. It was not a pleasant sound and the scarlet
eyed man held back a shudder. It would take time to get used to that.
"Your body and soul are both well acquainted with one other. If I
were to force your soul to exit the body that it feels most safest, the
results would be… messy."
"I will assume that this is the reason as to why my body could still
function after my head has been severed from my neck."
"You assumption is correct, my Master. Your body is linked to your

soul, and your soul is linked to my person. The only way for you to
stay at an unfamiliar place and restart your whole life with your
current body is that I would have to force it into being a newborn."
"And this will lead me into being raised by matrons from an

orphanage." The scarlet eyed man spat with hatred.
"Please allow me to fully explain before that pretty little head of yours
even bring up the idea that I will allow my Master to be cared by
mere mortals." The man's shoulder relaxed slightly and he gave a
jerky nod. "Undisclosed blood adoption."
The man continued to wait for an explanation that would probably

not happen if he were to not ask.
"… Would it kill you to elaborate without my asking?"
"Perhaps it would."
The scarlet eyed man crossed his arms over his chest in a sulky way
that made his servant chuckle in mirth.
"Forgive me my Master, if you were as old as I am, you would find

entertainment in leaving out… details." The man pinched the bridge
of his nose in exasperation. "But as I am… fond of you, I will keep
this habit to a minimum."
"That would be much appreciated." He sighed.
"After your body's de-aging, I will need two Magicals of your

choosing into procrea-"
"What if I were to want parents that are non-existent?" The man

interrupted as an idea formed.
"… I assume you will want to be in a specific lineage?"
"The Gaunts." He agreed with Death.
"There are other universes where Marvolo Gaunt has siblings or

more children." The scarlet eyed man gave an upward tilt of the lips,
glad that Death picked up on his want to be related to the man he
highly respected.
"Where Marvolo has a sibling whom gave birth to a son?"
"There is."
"And others are the same?"
"Yes."
"Will I retain my looks?" The man traced his features with feather
light touches absentmindedly, as if to memorize them just in case.
"The blood adoption will not interfere with your current appearance,
but would you like me to remove all your scars?"
"No, these scars… Each one is a reminder of how weak I was,

without them I would lose my ambition of growing stronger and fall
into melancholia faster than anyone could draw first blood. Do not
mind them, please continue." The scarlet eyed man fingered the scar
that was wrapped around his neck -mockingly alike a collar- with
immense resentment.
Death eyed the scar, and underneath Its shadowed hood, Its eyes
flashed with murderous rage.
"Very well. Afterwards I will personally compel the two to have sexual
intercourse with one another before modifying your bearer's memory
of your birth. As much faith as I have with my magic that humans
have no way of detecting, it would be safer for them to act on it
rather than to have someone question your birth."
It waited for Its Master to digest the information for his plans before It
continued.
"I will be the one who cares for you whilst you are still a newborn."
The ebony haired man looked doubtful for a split second before
returning to his default, serene expression. Death either missed or
ignored it as It continued.
"I am in need of a few minutes to find such a universe."
"You may take as long as you need." Death closed Its eyes
underneath Its hood and relaxed Its body while remained standing.
Half an hour was passed with the scarlet eyed man petting his pet
before Death twitched.
"Master, I have found a place where Marvolo Gaunt indeed has a

little brother, Markos Gaunt. He ran away from home once he
reached seventeen and after killing his father. He then raped a
woman, leading to him having a son named Marbas. I have already
compelled him and your blood mother into having intercourse."
"And who is this blood mother?"
"Well Master, why not find out yourself?"

"Oh a mystery. Any more surprises?"
"Some people are not born, and some are. Some things have never
been discovered or made. The world has a lot of mysteries left
unsolved."
"So what you're saying is that… That universe is alike, but different
as well. This would mean that my information or history here should
be crossed referenced, lest I say things that have yet to exist."
The man placed his fingers on his chin as the thought out loud.
"And the date?"
"1943 of October."
"My birth will be around July of 1944? How coincidental." The scarlet
eyed man snorted as his servant shrugged.
"And you?"
"I can travel around without any restriction, Master."
"Then you would not mind holding onto my treasures while we travel
would you?"
"I would not."
The raven haired man waved his hand and an emerald green trunk
flew towards him, already shrunk and secured to the highest
possible level. All of his important items were already packed
beforehand in case of any emergency scenarios -even though his
wards are impeccable, one can never be sure. It seemed that his
previous mentor's word of Constant Vigilance has been drilled into
his mind the man mused.
Death accepted the miniature trunk with a tilt of Its head and stored it
inside Its cloak.
"Please hold on to it with care until I request of them."
"Yes, my Master. Before I forget once again, I have a gift for you."
"Oh?" A flash of surprise from the man's scarlet eyes came as fast as
it went.
Death pulled out a vial that was covered with scratch marks from Its
cloak. The inside was filled with a silvery mist. "The things I touch
usually tend to be damaged or rot away unless I wear gloves."
The man almost wanted to lean away from the entity. Almost.
"May I ask what that is?"
"A partially damaged glass vial; often used to store potions or

medication."
A frustrated sound was made by the man and he sighed in defeat.
"And what is inside said glass vial that you hold within your right
hand at this very moment?"
Death made an amuse sound from the back of Its throat.
"A soul."
"A soul?"
"Yes, a soul."
"And whose soul is that you are holding imprison?"
"One of its pieces used to be stored inside a black diary before I

forcefully sewn all of them together."
"Perhaps you are referring to a black diary, one with an initial of

T.M.R. on the cover and an inscription of T.M. Riddle inside the first
page of said diary?" It nodded to both his spoken and unspoken
question before handing the vial to Its Master. The man accepted it
and stared at it in awe.
It was really beautiful. Who would've thought such a corrupted soul

could be breath taking?
"Why are you giving me his soul? Will he be following us?"
"Indeed he will, but as he has no body, I am devastated to say that

you will need to provide him with one naturally."
"…"
"…?"
"… Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"If what you are saying is indeed what I am thinking then yes."
"You-.. That-.. Argh! I need to produce a body for him!? An actual

body that comes from myself !?"
"You have always dreamt of being a father… Was I wrong?"
"Of course not!" The scarlet eyed man's composure was destroyed
as he facepalmed with a pinched expression. "So I need to have sex
with a random someone before you could plant the soul inside a
developing fetus?" He couldn't contain a shudder at the thought of
being intimate with a stranger, or anyone in fact. He handed back the
fragile container and It placed the vial inside one of Its many
pockets.
"You will insert it, not I and before you ask, my Master, he will not
retain his appearance but would take much of yours."
"What do you mean I will implant the soul? And perhaps you do not
know, but we do look very much alike." Much to Ginevra's horror. He
could still remembered when his features had started to change after
he had hit his 17th birthday. Only the youngest Weasley knew whom
his features were turning into, and it had freaked her so much that
she almost drove a stake into his chest when he was having a sleep
over at the Burrow.
"Indeed I do know, as well as to the reason why."
He made an irritated sound and huffed out in frustration. It has been

so long since he showed any emotion other than boredom, rage and
bloodlust freely. In just over an hour, Death had already
accomplished the things that even his Parasite toys had failed to do.
Death stared at its Master as he continued to mumble out incoherent

hisses.
"What about his memories?" The man finally huffed out.
"All are intact."
"Would that not mean he will remember his life… and death?"
"Indeed he will."
"He would kill me once he finds out I was his killer."
"And he would not succeed."
The man sighed. He knew that even with the soul's memories intact,
he would still out-power the soul. He was a monster in human skin
after all. A man-made monster.
"Should I have a need to apparate all the way to -the ruined-

Gringotts for gold?"
"There would not be any need. Death's Vault has always been
everywhere and… untouchable."
"Excellent… Will I be getting my own name?"
"If you so wish to."

"Finally I get to choose a much better than my current mundane one!
Perhaps -"
As they continued their discussion, the scarlet eye man had thought
about the things he would be doing in the near future. The pros
definitely exceed the cons. He would've killed himself if he continued
to live… no, survive in the world he's currently in. The problem was
that he was just unable to remain dead for long.
Oh he tried killing himself plenty of times. From slitting his throat to

beheading himself. From holding his breath to drowning himself.
From setting his body aflame to throwing himself into a pit of lava.
Everything he tried had failed. When his limbs (and head) was cut
off, they would reattach themselves -he doesn't even know how-
even after he was halfway across the world. They would just pop up
the next day or something.
The first time he had to reattach his limb, he had screeched like a
little girl in the face of a pedophile. It was that painful. All the skin and
veins and nerves and muscles and bones and… everything,
connecting forcefully into one.
He had gotten used to the feeling with time and now he would just
feel an odd sensation if he were to accidently cut his fingers on
accident. Perhaps his reactions and feeling to pain were numb and
void. Perhaps he had acquired a medical condition called congenital
analgesia. What the medical crapping name means is that the
person cannot feel physical pain. He would only feel an itch or a
blunt force like when your friend pokes your sides.
Other than re-attaching limbs, if his lungs were filled with water, they
would force him to puke everything out, even his stomach contents.
It was unpleasant but bearable.
The most hated was his skin. His burnt skin would drop off, alike a
snake during their shedding. It was awfully itchy and would lead to
him scratching his skin off -which was counterproductive. Not tickly
itching, it was itching that you need to scratch to satisfy yourself. It
took a lot of control, but he managed after a few month of being a
no-skin human.
After finalizing everything to the tiniest details to avoid any potential

danger to his new identity, the scarlet eyed man narrowed his eyes
as he stroke his pet's head.
"When will we be leaving?"
"Now if you so wish it." It held out Its hand, waiting for the man to
accept it.
The man tilted his head towards the window and removed his
glasses as he fixed his gaze at the polluted green sky a last time.
The sky was one of the first things that changed after the air was
polluted by poisonous chemicals and gasses. Humans were forced
to wear masks to avoid would not miss such a sight.
He placed his smaller, scarred hand upon Death's bigger and pallor
palm.
As soon as the entity's fingers entwined with his, he felt his body
shudder. His scarlet eyes widen and brightened to crimson in
unmasked pain. It was a feeling he had become unfamiliar with.
Excruciating pain that he once felt when his equal tortured him, when
Parasites experimented on him.
He felt his bones, organs, innards and the like, melt and he couldn't
help but scream in distress. It was unbearable as he felt his skin
tighten, blood boiling, and muscles forcing themselves to break
apart.
His vision started spinning with rainbow colored laser beams,

everything became blurry as tears trail down his slowly fattening
cheeks. Just as inky black spots appear, an arm hooked around his
waist and he disappeared.
On the year 2157, Harry James Potter vanished, leaving only a
snake lying on a still warm throne.
A/N
My inspiration for writing this fic is due to: The beginning to the
beginning by HuskyWalker. For those people who love reading
TMR/HP time-travel fic, read it! I recommend it!
And please bear with me, the other chapters would be longer and
less boring. It will get better \(OwO)/
My apologies for grammar mistakes and spelling errors. My first

language is not English.
Rainbows and sunshine,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 2
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture/Child Abuse
Disclaimer: If I were the author of Harry Potter, Dumbies would

have chocked on a Lemon Drop and drop dead, not AK-ed. So
no, I do not own Harry Potter.
"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 2: Childhood Years
31 st July 1944
Location: Wool's Orphanage
A snake with unnaturally intelligent emerald eyes was observing a

woman, whom was crouching down in favor of scrutinizing a basket
that was surrounded by a flock of butterflies on the doorstep. She
gave a sharp inhale of breathe as she spotted a newborn inside.
Whilst she turned to shout out for the head Matron, the snake was
quick to enter the partly opened door and into the building.
Quick steps were heard heading towards the woman and the snake
hid behind a potted plant, completely out of view from the humans.
They talked for a few minutes before they accepted that they had to
keep the baby.
It didn't want Its Master to be raised in such a place, but It had no

choice. Harry had wanted a solid background, even if they were with
muggles. Its Master had grumbled for half an hour on wizard
stupidity, lack of common sense and magical orphanages.
"The letter says that his name is Marcaunon S. Gaunt." Woman

number one stated as she scanned the letter that the baby held.
"What do you suppose the S. stands for? And who in their right mind
would name their child Marcaunon? What does it even mean?"
Woman two questioned, looking rather annoyed.
They soon decided to leave it as it is and let the boy decide on his
own once he was older. The snake shook Its head at the show of
irresponsibility but decided that it was better than picking a random
name that would displease Its Master. It knew that Its Master would
look at It in disappointment when he finds out that It had forgotten to
write down Its Master's middle name.
The second woman, Mrs. Cole, instructed her employee to place the
newborn in one of the nurseries whilst she wobbled back to the hole
she came from. The snake followed and slipped into the room just as
the door closed, to witness the woman transferring It's Master
roughly from the basket and into the cot. It hissed in displeasure but
remained out of view.
Once the woman left, the snake was soon enveloped in a mist, and a
figure draped in a black cloak stepped out from within. It glided
towards the new resident of Wool's Orphanage and cradled the baby
to Its chest; checking for any injuries that he may have received from
the rough woman.
When It was sure that Its Master was unharmed, It removed the
sleeping spell that It had placed. The baby soon opened his eyes,
revealing dulled blue-scarlet. It whispered some words in a language
unknown to men, soothing the baby as well as improving his
eyesight and hearing.
"Master, the trip was successful and your body is all in working
condition. Nothing is amiss." The figure, also known as Death,
reported dutifully to Its Master while It placed feather-like touches on
the baby's cheek.
Said baby gave a somewhat jerky nod, and whined when his
muscles refused to cooperate. Death chuckled and continued to
sooth the baby, promising that It would take care of Its Master whilst
they were alone.
After much reassurance, the baby boy soon fell asleep, still in the
arms of his faithful servant. Death's emerald eyes soften as It
returned Its Master to his cot, and disappeared without a sound.
Only a summer azure butterfly was left to watch the newborn sleep.
December 1945
The orphanage was lively with the children's shouts and laughter, all
excited with the decorations surrounding the playroom. They were
crowded together, both young and old, around a big Christmas tree.
The caretakers had smiles on their faces as they pile up presents
underneath the tree, much to the children's glee.
In the darkest corner of the room, a toddler was sitting on the floor
with a serene expression, his aura practically screaming ' stay away'
. Many of the caretakers were wary of this little boy; he was
abnormally silent and a few white-winged butterflies would always be
present on his small shoulders or within the bird nest he called hair.
He never once cried out in hunger and his diaper was never in need
of changing. What the caretakers didn't know was that his servant
was the one who fed and changed him on a daily basis.
The orphans avoided him like a plague, knowing that he was not
your everyday baby. They believed that he was cursed. Not a single
child escaped his ire when they disturbed him. On the other hand,
the caretakers left him alone after a few weeks of his diaper clean of
any defecation.
The boy's name was mostly forgotten. The adults would normally
refer to him as 'that boy', whilst the children would call him freak . He
gave it no mind. He remembered once upon a time when he thought
his name was Freak. Only when he reached five he understood that
he was called Harry, eleven when he found out his family name, and
whilst reading, found out that his full name was Harry James potter.
He remembered clearly how hateful of his relatives he felt when he
found out his full name due to a book.
That boy's name was Marcaunon, and he was not a happy toddler.
Being forced to attend a Parasite holiday was not one of his to do
list. He would rather celebrate Yuletide with his servant (not that
Death wanted to) and ignore such a devastating holiday with snot-
covered children running around and screaming their lungs out. He
wished they would scream it out literally.
"Now children, gather around so we can sing some Christmas

carols!" One of the female caretakers declared, her wrinkled face
bright with laugh lines and the children cheered.
Marcaunon was traumatized severely when they sung. His eardrums

felt like they were about to burst at hearing tone-deaf singing voices
mashed together. He resisted the urge to clasp his ears with brutal
force (it was beneath him) and forced himself to tune out the noise.
"Beautifully sang, children!" Not bloody likely; it would even cause

corpses to turn in their graves in horror. "Now queue up so you can
receive your presents."
The children rushed and pushed one another brutally and
Marcaunon was glad that he was alone in the corner that he dubbed
as his. He was not about to get pushed and shoved for a mere
present that would likely turn out to be second hand toys or clothing.
Whilst he was busy picturing Death tearing the children slowly apart,
he missed the head Matron, Mrs. Cole, heading towards him with a
scowl on her ugly face. Her face was beyond saving even with
plastic surgery.
"Boy!" Said boy snapped his head towards the voice and forced the
hate in his eyes to dim. "Are you deaf boy!? Go and line up for your
gift. Not that you deserve anything at all."
Mrs. Cole grabbed the boy's skinny arm in an unforgiving grip -

forcing the butterflies to fly away- and proceeded to drag the boy
towards the other children.
Marcaunon didn't bother hiding his murderous glare whilst he was all
but hauled towards the others. The crowd split apart in fear at the
look both adult and child wore, not daring to make any noise that
could direct attention to them.
She took a random wrapped box and shoved it at the boy, and
walked off after sneering balefully at him. Marcaunon toddled away
after receiving his gift, and sat back down in his corner.
After a few minutes of silence, the other children went back in line
and they continued as if they were never interrupted. The scarlet
eyed toddler opened his gift in disinterest and scoffed. He was right;
inside was a second hand toy. The positive thing was that it was a
serpent.
The toddler observed it for a moment and decided that he rather like
his new toy. It was an albino plush, with beautiful ruby eyes and a
few stitches littering its body. He would ask Death to clean it before
sleeping with it though.
August 1946
The sound of bells could be heard throughout the building, indicating

that a family had arrived to look for a child to adopt. The children ran
down towards the adoption room in excitement whilst the teenagers
walked in a relaxed pace.
A toddler, not more than two winters, was seen staggering towards
the room with a badly contained grimace. His muscles were still in
the process of developing and he loathed walking -read; waddling.
He had always complained to his servant that it made him look like a
penguin.
Ever since he re-learnt how to talk, he had been moaning about how
his life is unfair. Death said he was whining, but he denied it with
venom. It was beneath him to whine.
Inside of the room, there was not one, but two sets of couples that
were looking for a child to adopt. They were quick to dismiss the
teenagers as they wanted a child that they could still cuddle. The
teens just shrug their shoulders in resignation and walked out.
"Jeremy, look! That girl's so cute!" One of the women cooed at a little
girl whom had just walked into the adoption room.
"I thought you wanted a boy, Charlet sweetie?" Her husband

questioned in amusement whilst she huffed out and slapped his arm
playfully.
The girl in question giggled and gave the bint her best puppy dog
eyes. The scarlet eyed toddler scoffed softly, knowing that the little
girl was a bully. She was always seen holding a stick and hitting it at
other children that were younger than her. Said stick closely
resembled a smelting stick that was once upon a time used by dear
Duddikins.
She had once tried to hit him with that stick of hers. He of course, did
not tolerate her presence or actions, and made her sprain her wrist
as she fell. She informed the caretakers that he bullied her, resulting
in her arm was broken afterwards as he was forced to listen to his
main caretaker, Linda, lecture him.
Whilst the first couple was cooing at the bully, the second couple
walked and observed the rest with critical eyes. They looked like the
strict type of parents than the first but their eyes showed their love
for children.
From his observation, the woman was probably a person whom

teaches children. A kindergarten teacher perhaps. The man was an
office worker, judging from his attire. He probably rushed from work
to fetch his wife before coming here.
When they reached Marcaunon, one of them made a move to reach

for him.
He was quick to take a step back to avoid the incoming appendage.

The owner of said hand startled before she gave him a warm smile.
"No worries, little boy. Just pushing your hair aside."
She made a move once again, and he forced himself to stay rooted.
The woman tucked his curtains called hair behind his ear and looked
towards her husband.
"What do you think, dear? He will most definitely grow up into a

handsome lad." It was quite shallow of her to look for a child that
would be handsome or pretty once they grow older.
The scarlet eyed toddler knew that his looks were his selling point,
and usually uses them to his advantage. He had dark messy
shoulder-length hair that usually covers his doe like scarlet eyes,
which was enhanced by dark long lashes. A straight nose, high
cheekbones that were still engulfed in baby fat, pinkish cupid bow
lips, sharp chin, and a pale skin tone. Overall, his features were quite
androgynous.
He also knew that once he physically matures and reach the age of
sixteen, his looks will become more boyish. Patience is the key.
"Handsome? More like beautiful! I do believe that he'll be a

heartbreaker once he's older." Her husband replied with a small
smile. "What's your name, young man?"
Just as he opened his mouth to reply, a child next to him made a

dramatic effort to be cute. This distracted the couple as they cooed
at the child's cuteness. Yuck.
Marcaunon closed his mouth, relieved that he would not have to

speak with disgusting Parasites. Whilst they were busy, the first
couple came and the woman -Charlet was it?- rudely snatched his
spectacles from his face. This made him freeze and seethe on the
inside.
How dare this… this complete waste of oxygen that could be more
useful for fertilizer dare take what was his without his consent!?
"Honey! Look at this child! What a beautiful… boy. Or is it a girl?"

The woman grinned at her husband whilst waving his beloved eye-
wear around. "And you shouldn't wear such an ugly thing on such an
angelic face!"
This imbecile had the audacity to snatch his glasses, point at him,
called him an IT, and wave said glasses around without a care whilst
calling it ugly!? How bloody dare she!
"Now now, sweetheart. You shouldn't-" Her husband didn't get to

finish as one of the caretakers screeched and was quick to snatch
his eye-wear out of her hand.
The caretaker gave the toddler back his item before reprimanding
the adults that the children were possessive over their belongings,
and they would do well as to not take anything forcefully -especially
from orphans. She kept looking at him as he slowly cleaned his
glasses of any fingerprints and placed it back on his face.
Ah sweet relieve. His eyes were used to looking at the world behind
tainted glasses. The adults were confused as to where his specs
came from back then, but they summed it up to his oddities.
"Why don't you both look at others? This one's a trouble maker…"
She whispered to the couple with a worried voice.
Whilst they were ushered to look at other children, Marcaunon called

out his magic and placed an accident-prone curse at the bint whom
dare call him an it . He was not a genderless person. His magic was
quick to respond, almost eager like a puppy, and after a few minutes,
the first accident happened.
She had tripped over a toy truck and hit her head -rather hard- on
the wall, much to his sadistic pleasure. The children and staff shot
nervous glances towards the scarlet eyed toddler, used to people
having accidents when he was angry or bored.
The adults were quick to help the bint up. She reassured them that
she was alright, and they continued to survey the children.
Soon, three kids were picked in total. He was sadly one of them.
Whilst they were being moved towards Mrs. Cole's office, Charlet felt
a force similar to a push and she lost her balance just as she was at
the top of the stairs. She cried out and a second before she fell, she
saw the toddler that she wanted grin dementedly at her, his eyes
glowing molten red behind those rose-tinted glasses. She was
suddenly very frightened of that child.
The sound of bones snapping and different voices screaming was

heard all throughout the corridors, and this made them all, except
Marcaunon, pale.
Paramedics were soon called and Mrs. Cole informed the other
adults that they would have to come the next day to settle the
adoption papers. Marcaunon was banned from attending future
adoptions, and received punishment even without any evidence that
point out he was indeed the culprit. It was worth it in his eyes.
As the days passed by, he heard from one of the caretakers how
Charlet had died of internal bleeding whilst on her way to the
hospital. The news brought a slight upward tilt of his lips.
July 1947
The head Matron, Mrs. Cole, was busy drinking her beloved whisky
as she tried to forget her problems. She was stressed and shaken by
a memory of a similar boy that once stayed in the very same
orphanage and room as the current residence of room 27.
She had repudiated at first, but the signs were hard to miss. The boy
was eerily alike another young adult she knew. They are identical as
twins (only different in age-wise), and only because of the framed
glasses was she able to stand looking at the boy.
Whilst Tom -even his name brought a shiver down her spine- was a
neat boy who kept his appearance at top priority, Marcaunon refused
to wear shoes and brush the mess he called hair. He wore strings on
his toes that coiled -somewhat like a snake- all the way to his ankles.
She found out from one of her workers that they were called anklets
and toe rings; primarily used for decoration rather than protection.
She never did figure out how he kept the soles of his feet from being
dirtied by grass and mud.
Other than his appearance, Marcaunon Gaunt reminded her too

much of Tom Riddle in personality and demeanor.
He showed that he could hurt the other children just like Tom, and he
even demonstrated that by killing an adult. He was worse than Tom
could ever be as a child.
She remembered how she and her staff brought the children to
attend the usual Sunday Church Service, the Priest had all but
banned the messy haired boy from coming in the future. Whispers
reached her ears that the Priest had deemed him a devil's spawn.
She had once planned to banish the devil from within Tom Riddle,
but that didn't work out too well. The boy became colder and more
guarded then ever. Mrs. Cole was a religious woman, and she
believed that Marcaunon is a demon, not possessed by one. She
was a determine woman as well.
She had tried to bring the toddler to another Church just a few days
ago, but he refused and screamed at her; this made her suspect that
something was wrong (of course she didn't know that Death hated
the church). Whilst she was taking a walk in the backyard, she heard
him speaking in a devilish language with many hisses. It made her
tremble in fright at the sight, and her suspicions of him heighten.
The head Matron had already called a team consisting of ten

exorcists to eradicate the demon called Marcaunon from her
orphanage, and she would stop at nothing to see that monster gone
from her orphanage.
They promised that they would arrive tomorrow at noon with

equipment and would like her to remove the other children from the
building, perhaps take them to the park. She of course had agreed
whole heartedly.
Now she just had to wait for tomorrow to arrive. For now, she would
drink her worries away.
Marcaunon struggled as a man forced another bottle of holy water

down his throat yet again. He had no idea what had happened. A few
minutes beforehand he was sleeping in his room, but then a group of
men wearing black robes and crosses came towards him and hauled
him non to gently onto a metal table with restrains.
This had brought back unwanted and hidden memories of his captive
in his original universe and made his muscle spasm. It was a bad
move on his part.
They had restrained him. Reality and memory overlapped. The men
in black were slowly morphed into Parasites wearing white lab coats,
with green masks on their faces and scalpels in their gloved hands.
He screamed in panic, afraid that they would cut him open once
again. He didn't want to be their experiment any longer. He thought
his life as their test subject was over.
"No no no no! Please no more! Mercy… Please mercy!"
"A demon begging for mercy? You deserve, and we shall offer none!"
With that, the scientist continued to force water down his throat to
silence him.
Objects were soon flying around as his magic broke free from their
chains. His body trembled in fright as he could only see lab coats
and tools meant for cutting brought to him. They shouted at him,
demanding that he leave this plane and went back to where he came
from.
Why are they shouting? They normally just gag him before cutting
him up. He was confused and terrified of the voices. The child in him
screaming for him to wail and cry out for his protector.
The men didn't notice a beautiful translucent-winged butterfly in the

room had turned into a ball of blue light before disappearing.
Some of them hit and nudge him with silver rods, whilst others would
throw salt and water as they mumble incoherent things. He begged
them to stop -pride be damned- crying that he was human just like
the rest of them.
Of course they didn't.
They tore his clothes, stripped him naked to his birthday suit, and
drew symbols on his torso with a silver dagger. Even with his high
pain threshold, he cried out as he felt his blood flooding the table and
salt entering his wounds.
Why always him? Just because he was the only wizard left on Earth
did not mean they could do this to him. Just because he was
immortal does not make him less human. Just because his blood
could cure any disease does not mean they could use him as a
blood bank. He only wanted freedom, why could they not grant him
that. To be left alone.
Parasites fear what they do not understand, and because of this fear,
they wiped out Magicals.
He felt the sensation of someone using a blunt rod finally stop

drawing patterns across his torso. Blood was leaving him and his
mind thought back to the time where they drained him till he was
nothing but bones.
Just as the scientist (exorcist) was about to plunge a scalpel

(dagger) into his chest, the room became extremely cold; this made
them all freeze and shiver at the intense feeling. The adult part of
Marcaunon's brain analyzed that it was a similar feeling to that of a
Dementor. His child part shouted for the adult to shut up and scream
for help.
"You dare make my Master cry and bleed…" A soft yet chilly voice
echoed throughout the room.
"It came out!"
"Continue the prayers!"

"Hurry!"
"Be gone, Demon!"
They were quick to continue but it made no difference. Nobody can

chase Death away but his Master.
Suddenly, one of the exorcist's head flew and the floor was covered
in blood.
The sound of Marcaunon groaning drew the attention of Death, and

It froze. It turned Its head towards Its Master and the man closest to
him.
The man's arms were ripped apart by an unknown force and he

screamed just before his tongue was wrenched out, and his eyes
gouged from within its sockets. His body was soon littered with
holes. His heart was the last to be pulled out and crushed.
One of the remaining eight rushed towards the door, but it was
predictably locked. The man's body was split into two from head to
groin; painting the door and its surrounding area with blood and
innards.
The shouting became louder and two of them ran towards the
windows. They were unbreakable.
Death appeared behind them and crushed both their heads with Its
bare hands. This made their grey matter splatter all over the glass.
The sight would be gruesome to anyone.
Marcaunon's scarlet eyes glossed over as his mind continue to fight,

not knowing if this was all a nightmare or if this was reality.
Five were left and they were back to back in a circle, all of them
chanting uselessly. One of them was suddenly pulled by his ankle
towards Death. The man lost his bladder control in fear.
Death wrinkled Its nose in distaste at seeing a grown man wet
himself and decided to emasculate him as punishment. The others
that were staring in horror winced when their colleague had his
manhood ripped apart and testicles crushed.
The man was then left to bleed to his death whilst Death glided
towards the remaining four. They backed into a corner and one of
them was suddenly lifted by something invisible. His body started to
bend backwards rather slowly and after a minute, his spine was
broken and he lay folded on the floor just before his head exploded.
Just as sudden, one of the three remaining man was torn into two,
his upper body still very much alive while his lower lay on the floor
uselessly. He screamed as he felt his innards slowly being pulled out
of his body, and died a painfully slow death as his heart veins finally
snapped and plop to the floor, his body following soon after.
"M-m-m-m-monster." One of the last two men whispered.
The second last man's skin started peeling itself and he screamed
as salt began to enter his muscles. Soon after his skin was all over
the floor, his veins were slowly removed whilst he trashed on the
bloodied tiles. His muscles, fat and organs were followed soon after;
leaving only a stained red skeleton behind.
"I will see all of you in my Realm soon." Death finally spoke as the
last man shat himself, quite literally.
Death pulled out Its scythe and beheaded the man with a clean
swipe.
It made Its way towards Its Master in a hurried yet elegant manner,
and pulled the dagger out of his chest. This made Its Master cough
out more blood while staring at his servant dully.
"Forgive me for my delay, Master." It whispered as It started to heal

Its Master's body.
The wounds were all gone, but the symbols carve into his skin
remained a thin pale line, yet another reminder for the poor boy.
Death extended Its Master's glamour over them -It had lost count on
how many scars Its Master had hidden- and wrapped Its Master in a
blanket.
It soon cradled Its Master like It had always done during the night
and was hugged weakly in return.
"Forgive me Master…" It whispered yet again.
"T-there… is… no-noth… hing… to forgive…" Marcaunon replied

slowly as he closed his eyes. "Wh-where?"
"Orphanage. You're free Master. I won't allow them any more lab
coats to hurt you." It shushed.
"Sleep. I will stand guard." Marcaunon's half lidded eyes fell heavy
and before he passed out, he saw a blue light hovering at Death's
shoulder. He would have to repay his sinner afterwards.
Mrs. Cole regretted calling professional exorcists over to her

orphanage. The room they had used for their failed exorcism was
sealed off. The smell of blood refused to disappear. One of her
workers had stumbled across a strange rotting smell and went to
investigate, only to faint at the sight of what appeared to be a
massacre.
Police were soon called to investigate the matter and they had yet to
find the murderer, but she knew who it was; the demon. The case
was written off as a Cult Ritual since there were symbols drawn
around the room by the victim's blood.
After they had removed the body and innards, she had seen the little
demon at his usual corner with his arms hugging that creepy toy
snake -its eyes were glowing like rubies. He was smiling. A bright
smile like he had won the lottery.
It made her blood chill at how a small child could murder these
grown man and yet remained unaffected. He was definitely a
monster.
October 1948
" Master, since your hand is now strong enough to write -albeit
a little shakily, I will be teaching you the duties of being the
Master of Death." Death stated solemnly from behind its Master.
" Morgana's tits!" He squeaked as he laid a hand over his chest to

calm himself down. "Will you stop doi- wait… duties?"
" Yes, duties. The Master of Death is not just a mere title."
" Hm. What does being MoD have anything to do with being able
to hold a pen properly?"
Death didn't answer. It pulled out a stack of yellow folders -with the
Hallows' symbol in the middle and the words Confidential just below-
from within Its cloak (Marcaunon had to wonder how many pockets It
had) and placed them onto his small study table, if it could be called
that. He was now old enough -according to Mrs. Cole- to have his
own room. Said room was just big enough to put a single bed, a
small wooden table and chair, and a wardrobe.
" Please sit here, Master." Death waved Its arm towards the
wooden chair.
He sat at the indicated seat and Death stood behind him. Its long
fingers placed a bottle of green ink, fountain pen and a slim green
notebook beside the stack and It leaned down, just touching the
crown of Marcaunon's head with Its chest.
" This notebook has the information required for the completion
of these folders. Shall we go through them slowly?"
" On All Hallows' Eve…?"
" Now would be a good time, Master."
He nodded and opened said notebook reluctantly. Today was

supposed to be a holiday!
-Master of Death's reference book-
This notebook will be an important item for the newly made

Master of Deaths'. It contains all the required information that is
somewhat alike a teacher's guide for their student's exam paper
grading.
(Marcaunon stared at Death with a raised eyebrow before returning

his gaze on the notebook)
When working on the Deathfiles (paperwork), this notebook will

show you how many points to deduct or add to a soul's 'test'.
You are highly advised to ask Death a completed Deathfile for
an example before you start your work. But first, let us go
through the point system.
It is important that before you judge the soul based on how

many points you will be adding or deducting, read their life's
story and the reason as to why they committed a good deed or
sin.
Firstly, a soul will have 25 points in the beginning of its life.
To proceed towards the afterlife, or what mortals called Heaven,

one must have the minimum of 100 points. The Spiritual Realm
is where Team One is posted. If the souls wish to be reborn,
they will need the permission of the Marshal and then the
Master of Death or Death itself.
( "I have Teams that have sub-teams for each country. Team One is
the team that takes care of the souls that have not committed a lot of
sins in the Spiritual Realm. Team Two is posted inside the Astral
Realm, where souls await their rebirth. Team Three is posted to the
Nether Realm, where souls of the unworthy go to. Team Four is
posted to the Central Realm, where souls that are to await their
judgment linger. Team Five is posted here, in the Terra Realm; they
work the same as Obliviators from the Ministry. And lastly, Team Six
is posted in the Terra Realm as well; they collect the souls and pass
said souls to Team Four. Any questions, Master?" Marcaunon shook
his head as he continued to read.)
For a chance of being reborn, they will need a minimum of 700

points. Children under the age of five will be automatically
placed within the Astral Realm since they are exempted from
these rules, where Team Two is posted.
Whilst some are lucky to achieve positive points, there are

some unworthy ones. Once a soul's points drop to negative (-1
and below), they will be placed inside the Nether Realm. They
will then be punished by Team Three, and once the Marshal of
the Team decided that they have been properly disciplined; they
will then be brought to the Astral Realm. But before they could
have a chance of being reborn, the Master of Death (you), will
need to authorize it.
If the soul's points do not reach the minimum number to

proceed to the Spiritual Realm, but still remain positive , the
Master of Death could decide whether that particular soul could
be placed to either the Spiritual Realm or Nether Realm. This is
where the biography comes in, and if still unsure, the MoD
could interview the soul and decide upon finishing.
-Next Page-
Good Deeds
Sacrificing their life for a stranger: +8

Sacrificing their life for a friend: +7
Sacrificing their life for a family member: +6
Sacrificing their life because they felt it was their duty: +4
Sacrificing their life because they are in debt to them: +4
Sacrificing their life because they are told to: +2
Sacrificing their life unintentionally: +1
Sacrificing their life due to other reasons not stated above: Point
addition of your choosing
Saving a stranger's life with the risk of one's own life: +3
..
(It continued in that manner for at least another 100 or so pages,

much to Marcaunon's growing dread. "I have to memorize all of
them at some point of time, am I right?" "Yes Master."
"Merlin…")
-100+ pages later-
Sins
Committed genocide: -10
Committed genocide with the intention of saving one person: -9
Committed genocide due to orders: -8
Committed genocide due to peer pressure: -8
Committed genocide because they were forced to: -6

Committed genocide unintentionally: -5
Committed genocide with the intention of saving others: -4
Committed genocide due to other reasons not stated above: Point

deduction of your choosing
Committed patricide: -6
..
-Skip to the end-
As you may have noted, there are more sins committed than
there are deeds, and higher point deduction than the deeds.
Killing is sinful and usually comes with a high deduction rate.
It is highly advisable to memorize all the points listed above

since this notebook highly doubts that the Master of Death
wants to flip through more than half the pages just to find one
sin (Sucks to be you).
After adding or deducting points based on the soul's actions

(on the column beside said action), proceed to which Realm
they will be placed and sign your approval at the bottom of the
document. The signature MUST be corresponding, and must
NOT BE CHANGED at any given moment or time. Be sure to
place the correct document into the correct Deathfile.
Good Luck (you'll need it),
The handy notebook
P.S. If the documents shows a human that died at the age of 5

and below; skim through, sign, and move on. These souls are
exempted from the system, even if they were to commit murder
or suicide.
P.P.S. Souls with more than negative five hundred points will be
damned and remain with the MoD until further notice.
-End of Reference Book-
" Oh Salazar, my points would be more than negative seven

hundred." Marcaunon whispered as he closed the notebook.
" Do not fret, Master. You are unable to go to any of the Realms
stated other than mine."
" I don't know whether that was supposed to reassure me or

not, but forget it. I have a question."
" Yes Master?"
" Aren't souls supposed to be old and recycled? Why do we not

count the soul's age?"
" Majority are. Whilst these mortals advance in technology or

Magick, they commit more sins and end up in the Nether Realm.
The balance would be disrupted if new souls were not made.
We do not count the age of these souls, but the age they lived
whilst they are alive."
" Who creates the new souls?"
" The Creator."
" There are other… omnipotent beings?"
" Indeed there are, but they do not care of what mortals do.
Usually Fate and Destiny are the nosy ones."
" Why are young children exempted?"
" They have no definition of right and wrong."
"… I see… What now?"

" I have already placed one of the completed folders on the very
top."
Marcaunon opened said folder -Deathfile- and spread the documents

on his table. There was indeed a full photo of the person, their time
and date of death, and the reason of their death in one page. The
other pages are all and -luckily- organized by the sins and deeds
they committed as well as their life details.
" These papers have the name, picture, biography, sins

committed, deeds committed, date & time of death, and reason
of death." It pointed out each document with its finger. "If you have
any questions, do not hesitate to ask."
He bobbed his head and scanned through the documents. Death's

signature made him pause.
" Death?"
" Yes Master?"
" Why am I doing the paperwork when you've already been

doing them for perhaps, millenniums?"
" I will be out reaping souls together with my minions. After you
have signed these papers, I will then send them towards Team
Four."
" Why can't you keep doing it?" He asked sulkily with a pout that
he would later deny.
" It would lessen my workload if you were to help me with some

of the paperwork."
" Some?"
" Yes, some. After reaping, the team's Marshal would be the one
to put all the soul's information onto papers and into folders.
They will then be passed to you for signing."
He sighed.
" Am I supposed to sign my full name or…"
Death took the fountain pen and dipped it into the ink bottle, before
writing down on a blank piece of paper.
Marcaunon S. Gaunt
::Signature::
Master of Death
" Do not mind that your signature would be a little shaky, since
you are still four years old. And be sure to sign it on the first
document below. Magic is repelled from the paper, so you are
unable to copy and paste." There goes that idea.
" I see." He nodded his thanks, arranged the documents and placed
it within the folder. "I'll try one now." Death hummed Its agreement
and leant closer to look over Its Master's shoulder.
It took far longer than Marcaunon had thought. He had to flip through
the notebook for every action the soul committed and write down the
exact points. If he made a mistake, Death would point it out to him
and he would have to once again flip through the notebook for the
correct points. Death was stingy and didn't want to tell the points for
each action.
A total of thirty seven minutes, fifty three seconds and seven

milliseconds for a folder was not something he would be proud of.
"An acceptable time, but perhaps we will continue this once Master
has memorized everything on the notebook?" Death asked drily.
Marcaunon leaned back against his seat with exhaustion.
" Agreed." He hissed tiredly.

June 1949
Time has its own amusing concept. It sometimes slows down or

speeds up, depending much on the person in question.
Marcaunon learnt that the hard way as he waited for yet another
year to pass. Ever since he was locked inside the orphanage with at
least one staff keeping him under close observation, he had taken to
watching the wall to pass time -not a very good way to pass, mind
you.
Once when he had Death bring him a book about… well, death itself;
his guard dog had paled and told him with a rather forced smile that
he was not to read such stories, as it was hard for him to understand
due to his lack of experience and age, and give said book to the
guard.
He was of course, very not amused, but not wanting to antagonize

his probation officer -lest he rot indoors till he reaches the age of
eleven- gave the book away and continued on with his wall staring.
He had learnt from experience that this applied to all the books he
read. Mind, he did read gruesome subjects but he was a bitter old
man! All the child stories about princes coming to save their beloved
princesses from towers or dragons were disgusting in his opinion. He
would rather fight one in real life than read about a hero complex guy
saving a worthless lump of meat before they fall in love and engage
in making babies. Insert shudder here.
After thinking that books about death or torture methods were not
allowed, he had asked Death to smuggle him a few books about
Necromancy. He had always been fascinated by them.
That didn't work quite as planned.

His probation officer took note of the title and got this far fetched idea
that he would raise the dead. He was not far from the truth, but he
was a Parasite. He does not have a clue about the magical world.
This had confirmed Marcaunon's theory about the staff being
prejudiced about him. The other confirmation was that he saw his
book being read by one of the teenagers. Blasphemy!
Whilst he was frustrated, he had told Death to bring him the Tales of
the Three Brothers. As he had predicted, it was confiscated as well.
This did not bode well for him and he had hit his head for hours with
a smelting stick that his cousin was so fond of. The reason for his
self-inflicted injury was that he had forgotten that it was possible to
change the cover of a book with a spell.
The same staff took the book as well. This made Marcaunon
confirmed his other theory that they didn't want him to read anything
lest he outsmarts the other orphan children -which he already has.
The conclusion for the overall week was that he was not allowed to
read anything remotely knowledgeable. He was only allowed to read
brain-cell damaging books such as Snow White for a day or so
before they were confiscated as well. Sprouting reasons such as him
having ideas about poison apples.
But at least he had an hour or so to read his green notebook in the

morning before he was forced out of his room by the guard. He didn't
want to lose his beauty sleep reading all night.
The second thing he tried -and failed- was playing with toys. It was
mind numbing to have to talk to oneself with different voices for
different toys. The ultimate reason as to why it failed wasn't because
it reduced his much needed brain cells -anything was better than
staring at unattractive grey walls- but him talking in parseltongue for
his snake toys. This made the children and staffs alike almost go into
cardiac arrest, not that he mind. He had only one snake toy left in his
possession because of his judgmental error. This of course led him
into another day of wall watching.
Marcaunon has always been a stubborn person. He was not one to
give up just because the situation called for it. No, he would have
something to do by the end of the month or his good intentions
would all be for naught.
He tried different methods of passing time. One of them was helping

out in the kitchen. The kitchen lady was first doubtful but after much
convincing, she agreed to his help. On the first day of work,
everything was going on smoothly… until he had mistaken some sort
of chemical or poison for ingredients.
It was not his fault that the lady placed them side by side -he had no
idea as to why they even did that- with containers that look exactly
the same. The children were lucky that the kitchen lady tried tasting
the food he made before distributing it out.
She was on the floor foaming for a minute before another staff called
an ambulance to take her away. He was kicked out of the kitchen
ever since. He was forced to look at walls for at least three days
when others look at him with suspicion in their eyes; like his plan
was to supposedly poison the kitchen lady. If he did want to poison
someone, it would not be the one whom cooks for them; they had to
live off canned food for a week before a new kitchen lady was hired -
the previous one quitted after ranting about demon child.
The next plan was to help out with things that do not need
consuming; such as cleaning. What could go wrong with cleaning?
He had done that when he was but a child whilst under the care of
his relatives. This made him make a mental note to kill the Dursleys
after Duddikins was old enough to comprehend what torture is -might
take a while since his brain was lesser than a flobberworm's.
Back to cleaning; he messed up big time. He thought that the

cleaning solution had always smelled foul. He couldn't be blamed
since he did his chores with magic for decades. Much to the people
living in the orphanage's horror, he had somehow mistaken a
flammable liquid as the cleaning solution. Again, it was in the exact
same container and was side by side.
Just as he had finished with mopping the entire orphanage with said
liquid, a group of passerbys flicked a still lit cigarette through one of
the open windows just for kicks. They ran away the moment they
saw flames consuming the floors at a rapid pace.
Whilst he was whistling and thinking about how dragon blood is an

effective oven cleaner, he was oblivious to the damage he had
unintentionally done.
The fire brigade got an unknown call -he assumed from the guilty
party- and hurried to the orphanage, which was halfway covered with
burning flames. They managed to tame the fire and put it out, but a
toddler was unlucky to have gotten locked in one of the rooms and
suffered from second degree burns.
Mrs. Cole found out the reason soon after one of the fire brigade
pointed out that the floors were covered with high flammable liquid
called alcohol . As predicted, she blamed Marcaunon but the police
wasn't convinced and said it might be unintentional -which it is- since
he was but a little boy. Mrs. Cole threw a fit and locked him in the
playroom for a week. The joy of wall watching, once again. He would
bet a galleon that the alcohol was owned by the owner of said fit.
Once again, he had to think about the reason as to why a (giant)

flask of alcohol -consumable- was next to another (giant) flask of
cleaning solution -not consumable- inside a cleaning cupboard.
This made him continue his self-inflecting head hitting for an hour
before resuming to glaring daggers in the same wall he had the
pleasure of viewing for months.
So for now, he would have to enjoy the greying sight for a little longer
before his brain could think of yet another ingenious plan to pass the
time, he needed his rest. He should remove all the plans that relates
to helping or good will.
Who would have thought that the idiom The Road to Hell is Paved
with Good Intentions were indeed accurately true.
April 1950
April fools. The most horrible day the Parasites made. Marcaunon
could still remember being pranked by two devil redhead twins; their
name had left his mind. He remembered that they were called the
Weasel twins or something similar.
He remembered when once upon a time, when his mind was

clouded with only a tiny bit of insanity, he made most of his so called
friends (insert sneer here) ran away shouting that he was a budding
Dark Lord. It was just a prank for Merlin's sake.
He had built a warehouse that was big enough to hold his pranking
materials, and after a full day of building it from scratch -thank Merlin
that magic made everything faster and easier- he started to paint the
outer walls a beautiful shade of emerald green, whilst the roof was a
dark brown. It looked somewhat like a treehouse on land.
He took a few days off from work the very next day to complete his
ultimate prank. He killed some animals -he apologized whole
heartedly before stabbing them- and drained them dry by hanging
them from a ceiling, with a bucket that was covered with preservation
charm below. There was of course some spells to make the blood
drain faster, but he was busy with other things.
He made sure that all the materials needed to build a few golems
were indeed present before he started. It took him roughly ten hours
to make the golems, before he retired for the night.
The next day, he colored the golems and molds their expression to
one of horror. Some were missing a few limbs, and some had holes
and slashes. He then tipped a few buckets of animal blood all over
the stone hard floor and placed a preservation charm all over it.
Slowly, he began moving and positioning the golems so that they
were laid broken, hanging down the ceiling, or chained to the walls.
Overall, it looked like a perfect torture chamber with dead prisoners
in it.
It took much longer to slowly make the golem's wound look real
while applying animal blood splotches over the body . Seeing that
everything was in position, he then started to pour some sort of liquid
that makes the whole warehouse smell like rotten meat and human
waste. He surrounded the whole building with preservation charms
once more before he made his exit. He had other things to bring.
The following day found Harry in Knockturn Alley's potion shop. He

was searching for some parts needed for his prank, and this place
surely had some. He spent an hour or so as he slowly picked all the
necessary ingredients.
Afterwards, he went back to his warehouse and started to throw the

ingredients at random. It was time for his prank to commence, and
just one time as well; 1st April!
He called his (ex) friends over and they all stood outside the
warehouse. Some of them were excited since he told them that he
found this warehouse full of ancient things inside. The group consists
of a family of redheads, bar their parents, a bushy haired woman, a
dark haired man and another few that he couldn't remember. It did
happen quite long ago.
As he opened the double doors, he heard a sharp gasp from behind

him but didn't turn around. The inside of said warehouse was full of
mingled corpses, the walls and floor painted with blood and viscera,
animal and human carcass hanging from the ceiling; still dripping
blood every so often into a bucket. The only spine-shivering thing
was that the corpses had a look of horror on their very familiar faces.
Harry had then turned around to shout ' April's Fool! ' but what he
saw made him frown in confusion. The group was pale and some
even looked ill. They each looked at their wives/husband's carved
faces onto the corpses', said corpses (golems) mouth opened for a
silent scream whilst each eyes were reflected with horror and fear.
Without another word, a few of them retched and dry heaved (some
of them even vomited) at the smell and sight that was presented to
them. The youngest red head rushed inside, afraid that her husband
was tortured, and after reaching noticed that the bodies only looked
life like. They were fake.
They had all fled the very next second, leaving a bewildered Savior
behind, his shoes covered with bile and undigested food. The next
day, they had flooed over to his home and demanded an
explanation; which he answered with ' It was my April's Fool prank' .
That made them screech and shout at him, calling him an insane
psychopath before fleeing.
He had felt hurt and betrayed over their false accusation and actions,
and was depressed for a week before they came back and asked for
his forgiveness. He was blind and didn't notice that they had an
obvious fake smile plastered on their faces. If he had looked for it, he
would have seen the disgust, hatred, fury, fear, and terror reflecting
in their eyes. Alas he didn't, and he had paid the price for it in the
future.
He shook his head to disperse the memory and threw a life-like

looking cockroach towards a seven year old girl; it landed right into
her hair. She cried in terror as she thought it was real and rolled
around the floor like a lunatic. He gave a mirthful chuckle -he denied
that it came out as a giggle- as he looked at the scene playing in
front of him; children screaming and trying to help her whilst the staff
edge away from said girl, afraid of touching such a disgusting bug
that was in her hair.
Perhaps he could come to love April's Fool day, after all pranking
always made him gleeful.
January 1951
Location: Seaside somewhere in London
The staffs had decided that they would take the children out on a trip
to the seaside since it was New Year's. The children were excited
and were told to pack some spare clothing for swimming. For once,
Marcaunon was glad that he was allowed to follow.
After a certain massacre, Mrs. Cole had forbidden him to accompany

them to trips. This would usually make him happy, but after four long
years of house arrest; he deserved to breathe in fresh air once more.
The reason as to why the Head Matron allowed him was because
the staff had gank up on her in telling that she was being unfair; he
wasn't even allowed outside in the backyard. They had forgotten all
about their feelings of wrongness when they were near to him, his
innocence shining.
He didn't mind.
A tall hooded figure with his hood up stood in the middle of an empty
beach, his unwavering gaze was intent on the waters as he was lost
in memories.
The figure was soon forced into focus as the sound of children
noises that people call laughter, started to increase. He had a feeling
that they were nearing him. He moved behind a boulder and saw
something that made him sneer.
Grey familiar uniforms followed by familiar matrons made him show

his disgust underneath his shadowed hood. Just as he was about to
leave, he felt a magical presence; it made him pause and observed
the children once more.
The signature was familiar.
His eyes focused on a dark haired child wearing hideous round rose-
tinted glasses with a butterfly resting atop the frame. The child
looked to be around seven, his petite frame was drowned by the
bigger children near -but still giving him a wide berth- him. The boy -
though looking quite gender confusing- looked somewhat familiar,
but he couldn't quite place where he had seen it before. The child
was holding what looked to be a stuffed toy white snake and the
hooded figure hid an awkward smile.
He remembered owning such a toy once upon a time.
The child was soon grabbed by the Head Matron and dragged
reluctantly towards the boulder. He already had a habit of surpassing
his magic so he was not worried about being sensed.
Both woman and child soon stopped just near enough for the wizard
to make out their facial expression, but he was unable to eavesdrop.
He spotted a growing hand-shaped bruise just as the woman let the
child's arm go. The boy idly glanced at the bruise before returning his
attention to the matron.
The woman's mouth started to move at a rapid pace, and he saw the
boy's mouth curl into a sneer. Just as suddenly, the woman brought
her hand up as if to slap the boy, but hesitated and brought the
wayward appendage to her side.
"Admit it!" He heard her scream.
They both talked a bit more before the Matron glared at the boy and
walk off.
The boy stood in silence, his back straight and his face showing no
emotion. The silence was prolonged and the only background noise
you could hear were the sound of waves crashing onto the shore.
Soon the boy trembled. He thought that the boy would start to cry but
one look at the boy's face said otherwise. The child was trembling
with barely contained rage.
After a few minutes of deep breathing, the child calmed down and
turned to stare at the vast sea in awe. Like it was the first time he
had seen the ocean -much his amused understanding.
He couldn't quite shake the feeling of familiarity. Was this child's

parent one of his former schoolmates? After observing the child's
face once again, he turned around and made his way towards a
nearby cave; he had work to be done.
If he had stayed for another second, he would have seen the boy's
partly hidden face by the mess he called hair, and the somewhat
ugly round spectacles.
Marcaunon stared at the vast ocean in awe, he had long to see such
a sight; the deep blue ocean, with strong drifting waves that push the
tiny little cargo ships. He remembered the sandy wasteland and dark
green clouds back then, and was quick to take his spectacles off; not
minding the disturbance he caused for his companion. His rose-
tainted view was soon replaced by beautiful blue and wondrous
yellow.
It was the color of happiness, of magic .
He felt the breeze push his hair out of his face and smiled at the cool
feeling of his slightly redden cheeks.
His mind cleared whilst he focused on the breath taking sight once
more, implanting the image into his memories forever, and perhaps
he could recreate it in a form of a mural.
It was amazing. A far cry from the wasteland he called his own world.
It was like comparing a basilisk to a flobberworm.
His previous frustrations were erased and he relaxed completely, for

once he could break away from prying eyes and let his tears flow
freely down his cheeks. He could taste his own salty tears and
chocked on a sob.
It truly was a beautiful sight to behold.
November 1952
Today was the anniversary of Araminta Meliflua's Muggle-hunting

proposal, and Marcaunon announced to Death that it was an
important event that was meant for celebration. Although the Ministry
had turned down her idea with their explanation of ' breaching of the
International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy ' and considered
inhumane -he thought they were just unable to hold their stomachs-
in their eyes, Marcaunon wanted to have at least a day to continue is
Parasite killings. Why not honor her whilst doing what he enjoyed
doing back then?
Killing two hornbills with one spear.
After receiving his weapons -although slightly smaller due to his age-
from Death, he sneaked out in the middle of the night after donning
on his black cloak with his hood shadowing him from sight. He
stalked his way through the streets -far from the orphanage,
searching for prey to have some fun with.
His hour long wait was rewarded with a small group walking towards
him. It was a family of five; consist of a set of parents, two daughters
and a son.
He licked his lips in excitement, and brought out his hand. Five red
lights flew out from his palm and hit them straight on the chest. The
family collapse as one and he nodded to himself.
He made his way towards the group and placed a stone on the
ground. He shifted around until the Parasites all had one of their
fingers touching the rock. A soft hissing filled the air and the group
disappeared with a pop.
Marcaunon landed on his feet gracefully, not minding the bodies that
fell limply on the ground. The rock was soon kicked into a dark
corner and transfigured into an armchair. He sat on his newly made
chair and crossed his legs.
The location he had chosen was special to him, and perhaps he

would continue to use it if the results are great. The manor was
enormous. The room -a guestroom- they were in was only dimly lit
by a candle-filled chandelier, furnished only with a moderate sized
bed and a nightstand. He had made sure to cut the electricity to
prevent them from flicking the lights on beforehand.
Perhaps the only lighting they would have outside this room was the
moonlight.
Coughing a few times to clear his throat, he casted Enervate on the

group. As they began to stir, he put on his Cheshire grin and
removed his eye-wear. His eyes glowed eerily in the dark and he
made sure that they were slitted.
"Ugh… What… What happened?" The son groaned as he held his

head, as if he was having a migraine.
"Caine? Where are we?" The youngest daughter asked as she

scooted closer to her brother.
"Is everyone here…?" Father dearest commanded as they all stood

up, supporting one another. How sweet.
"Yeah…"
The family soon started looking around and finally, their eyes landed
on him. He was hidden by the shadows and he knew that they could
only see his whitened teeth and glowing eyes.
"Will you play a game with me?" His made his voice as innocent as
possible.
"Who are you?" The father demanded.
"Will you?"
The group shifted uncomfortably.
"W-what sort of g-game?" The younger daughter stuttered.
So the bravest is the daughter? Who would have thought.
"A survival game."
Parasite hunting was his joy, and it would be boring if they were to sit
still and wait for their deaths. This was one of the reasons as to why
Marcaunon usually offered them a chance of freedom.
"If you survive for seven hours, you may walk out of this place alive."
"Don't joke around, boy! I'll call the bloody police!" The father roared
in anger. His face was a dark purple as he moved towards
Marcaunon.
Father was rewarded with a tsk and a magical binding. He howled in

pain as the invisible binds squeeze him, bruising at least a few ribs in
the process.
"There are no rules. You may aim to kill or disable me. You can
choose to split up or stay together. You will of course try to survive.
Any questions?"
The family were frantically trying to find what was wrong with their
father/husband. Marcaunon's grin stretched wider, if that's even
possible, and released the man from his bind.
"Wi-will we really g-get out if we s-survive for s-s-seven hours?" The

wife asked.
"Of course."
"W-why seven?"
"It's a powerful number."
The family looked at each other with terrified eyes.
"Before we can play, we should get to know one another, so please

tell me your names."
"What!? Why? I won't-"
The father was interrupted when a vase exploded, showering the

family with cuts. It was a warning.
"Ah… I-uhm.. My name is Caitlin." The elder daughter said in fright.
"C-c-cailyn." The younger sobbed. She looked as if she could wet

herself at any given moment.
"Caine." The son stated with confidence.
Marcaunon stared him in the eye and read his outer most thoughts;
which was beyond amusing. He was confident that they could
overpower a child.
"Calandra." The mother said whilst tears trail down her cheeks.
"Cadmus." Lastly, the father grunted out. He was obviously in pain

judging from the way he held his sides.
With their names, Marcaunon would have thought they were

Purebloods. Or perhaps an offspring of a squib. He scrutinized them
once again to be sure that they had no magical core. It would do no
good to hunt Magicals, no matter if they could control their magic or
not.
What most Purebloods forget is that Squibs still have a core. Their
pathways are just blocked, thus leading them unable to perform
Magic.
"Pleased to meet your acquaintance. My name is Marcaunon Gaunt.
I'm sure we'll be great playmates." He smiled cruelly.
The son kept thinking him crazy and that made Caine into the first to
die list for tonight.
"Now… I'll give you four hundred and twenty seconds of head start.
Let's begin!"
None of them moved.
"One… Two… Three… Four… Five…"
They all ran out the door as if their lives depended on it. Well, it
actually did.
Marcaunon grinned dementedly as he counted. What sort of method

should he kill them using? He didn't want them to have a quick and
painless death. Parasites don't deserve an AK to the head. Perhaps
he could kill them without the aid of magic? Crucios gets tiring once
you used them for so long.
He decided that for this particular day and activity, he would refrain
from using any type of offensive magic and only use muggle-means.
He made a mental note to start a Muggle-Hunting-Gaunt-Family-
Tradition. His future son would definitely enjoy it. This would be a
good father and son bonding experience.
"Seven minutes has past, ready or not… Here I come." His

demented cackling could be heard all throughout the manor
(sonorous is a blessing), making the family member's shiver at the
sound.
He hummed and sauntered out of the room, into the hallway. Left or
right…? Marcaunon's eyes took in all the details, before he focused
on a piece of hair on the floor. Right it is.
The padding of feet could be heard echoing throughout the corridor
as he walked none too gently. A few minutes passed by with nothing
in sight and Marcaunon grew bored. Just as he was about to give up
and use a spell to locate his victims, he heard a gasp from his right.
He didn't stop or show that he took notice, and made his way over.
He entered a theatre, much to his revelation. He never once noticed
that this manor had a bloody theatre, and by the looks of it for opera.
The ceilings were high and had a few crystal chandeliers hanging
from above, the walls were a dark shade of gold, with red curtains
and seats. The room had three levels! Marcaunon ignored the stage
in favor of staring in horror at the rows of seats littered everywhere. It
would take a while to find anybody in this room…
He knew that the father, Cadmus, would insist that his family stay
together. If he found one, he would find all. That would be boring so
he'll just drag them one by one until they get the idea that staying
together is counterproductive, if they are smart enough of course.
Merlin knew Parasites have smaller brains and intellect.
Suddenly, he remembered something and grinned dementedly.
Marcaunon took a deep breath and let out a high pitched whistle.
The sound echoed and he closed his eyes and concentrated. He
continued to whistle and walk. He remembered mastering this
technique when his eyes were melted and he was in a facility
building that absorbed magic. If he wanted to move around freely, he
would have to use sound to see.
Slowly he begin heading towards the second level. He saw a few

things moving restlessly and made sure that no sound could be
heard from his feet.
As he opened his eyes, he spotted the party of five huddling behind

one of the curtains. This is ridiculously easy. He inward sighed at
their incompetence and wondered if they were abysmal in Hide and
Seek.
With a flick of his wrist, the curtain moved to the corner sharply and
the ladies screamed in surprise. Father and son both stood bravely
in front of the girls and they had a grim frown on their face, eyes
filled with determination.
He raised a perfectly shaped brow at them.
"As much as it pains me to say so, the hiders would usually split up.
Finding all in one swoop isn't as pleasing as you would think it is."
They didn't reply. Father -he had already forgotten their names, darn-
had a wooden rod in his hands. Seeing that one of the chairs is
missing a leg, he's guilty.
"Any closer and I'll bash your head in, boy!"
Marcaunon didn't deem to give him any reply. He raised his left hand
-just for dramatics- and closed it into a fist. He blew out a puff of air
and grinned at them whilst tilting his head. The fist was then pulled
towards his chest and Son was hauled to him like a puppet on
strings.
Daughter Two latched onto her brother but it did no good.

Marcaunon raised his other hand and flicked it, just as he would a fly,
making the others fall to the ground.
Whilst they were disorientated he was quick to disapparated to his

favorite room in the manor. The dungeon cell.
Son's face was contorted in a grimace, still dizzy from the trip. He
used this time to magically hang the teen. His wrists were chained to
the ceiling and his toes were just grazing the floor.
"Hello there."
That seemed to snap the teen out of his daze and he glared at
Marcaunon balefully.
"Let me the fuck down!"

Marcaunon tutted.
"Do you remember my name?"
"And why the fuck should I remember the name of a snot nosed
shite like you?" Brother sneered haughtily.
"Wrong answer. It's Marcaunon!" He sing-song childishly.
A snap could be heard echoing before a scream followed closely.

One finger broken.
"For every wrong answer, some things will break… or rip away!"
"Ha.. haa.. Y-you're… fuckin' sick…" Brother grunted as sweat

started to form on his forehead.
"I'll take that as a compliment. How old am I?"
"S-seven.."
"Hmmm… Seven is a brilliant number I must admit…" Brother sighed

in relief. "But no, I'm eight."
The teen's face changed into horror and an apology was on the tip of
his tongue before two of his fingers broke. He screeched before
gritting his teeth.
"Y-y-you said… you'll… haa.. break… one of… my bones."
"Oh you misunderstood. I said that if you answered wrongly, your

bones will break. I didn't really specify the number of bones."
"Fuck…"
"Language. Teenagers these days! What time do you think it is?"
"Night time."
"I would take points for cheekiness, but I guess that answer is
alright…" Marcaunon hummed as he observed his captive. The teen
was panting and using his tippie toes to hold most of his weight. Pain
would make his mind unable to focus… So we can't have that can
we.
"What does is Voldemort in English?"
"Is… Is that French?"
"Indeed it is. Oh and I forgot to say you have only ten seconds to
answer."
"What!? Uhm… ugh… I-.."
With a snap of his fingers, Brother's toes were broken and he

screamed as he tried to pull his weight up with his wrist.
"Time's up! It means Flight of Death… but can also mean Theft by
Death as well. That was a two answer question! You could've saved
yourself from harm if you said either one."
Marcaunon's only reply was panting.
"Burdensome Jailer Dog is an anagram of someone's name. Tell me

whose!"
"Err… Julian… haa… Ru-"
All of Brother's ribs were snapped into two and it took a few minutes
for him to stop screaming bloody murder. Marcaunon giggled.
"Doleres Jane Umbridge. She's a bitch who loves pink too much. I'll
be sure to paint her body red; it's a much better color. Anyway, what
does emasculate mean?"
"R-remov-val of.. the… ugh… balls?"
"Correct!" Brother's shoulder relaxed. "But not entirely!" he chirped.

With that, Brother's manhood was ripped brutally apart. The screams
bouncing on the walls were heaven to Marcaunon's ears.
Humming could be heard as Marcaunon made his way to the dining

room. His arms were covered in blood, but he paid it no mind, loving
the feel of watery stickiness on his fingers. He wasted an hour
playing Q & A. The answers that Brother said were sometimes cute,
but not enough for Marcaunon to grant him release. They had played
until the teen had bled to death.
Father would have to be last sadly. Mostly, the women would lose
their will to live if they do not have a strong figure to lead them. Of
course not all, but those three were in the first category. He had seen
how a determined pregnant soon-to-be mother had fight till her last
dying breath, even after her husband had abandoned her and ran
with his tails in between his knees. He could respect that, but not
enough since she's still a Parasite. They bred enough.
This place had too bloody many bed rooms to count and remember.
Marcaunon whistled a few times as he moved along the corridors.
Suddenly, he facepalmed himself. How could he see through the

doors with only whistling!? Damn him for getting distracted. He
shook his head and concentrated on finding the Parasites. Better
make a move on before the night's over.
A few minutes of silence before he heard the sound of hands rubbing

against one another. His face turned slowly towards the direction of
the sound and saw a sofa just to his left. He dropped to his knees
and hands. His head was tilted to the side, wondering how he had
not noticed the human shaped shadow that was painfully hard to
miss.
He crawled slowly towards the chair and finally peeked at the side.
He came face to face with a petrified face.
"Hello." Marcaunon said softly, as if to not scare her -which failed
miserably since she looked as if to faint at any moment. He knew he
was an intimidated sight to see, with him crawling towards the girl on
his hands and knees, like something akin to Parasite ghosts. "Don't
be frightened… I won't kill you… yet."
"AAAHHHH! MUMMY DADDY! HEL-"
A silencing charm was casted at Daughter One to cut her screaming,

and he clasps the ankle that was in front of him. He used his magic
to strengthen his limbs as he avoided her free leg that kicked at him.
He dragged her across the room and headed towards the dungeon.
"Off to the dungeons we go!"
"I can't take it any longer… thought that we were stronger! All we do
is linger slipping through our fingers… I don't wanna try now! All
that's left's goodbye to find a way that… I… can… tell… you…" The
last part of Marcaunon's singing was said softly as he saw Mother
stiffening at his appearance when he turned the corner.
"I hate this part right here… I just can't take your tears… I hate this
part right here…"
The moment was broken when he continued to sing and Mother

made a dash towards the other side of the door. Before she could
get far, Marcaunon jumped and rugby tackled her to the floor. Her
white flowery pattern dress was soon turned crimson with all the
blood he had accumulated on his body.
"Please! You don't want to do this. What would your mother think?"
She tried as she struggled to get away from his enhanced strength.
"The dead don't speak… or think."
He silenced and turned her so that her back was to the ground. A
sticking charm was placed on her wrists and he forced them above
her head. Not wanting her to try and kick him, he straddled her waist
and licked his lips at the sight.
She was indeed a beauty, with beautiful doe-like blue eyes and
blonde hair. Too bad he despised being intimate with someone, even
if it's raping them. And his body was eight for Morgana's sake!
"The dungeons would ruin your beauty… we'll just have to make due
here."
His only answer was a silent scream.
Three down, two to go. Now that's left is Father and Daughter Two.
He'll just have to see whom he would cross first.
A full body mirror was in front of Marcaunon, and he tilted his head at
how delicious he looked. With his hair that was matted with blood,
pale face in contrast to the crimson red mess that was on his
cheeks, blood splotches on his clothing, and arms fully covered with
unidentified pieces of meat.
He flicked both hands and the meat flew across the floor. Giggling at
the mess he made, he continued stalking down the halls.
"Come out come out wherever you are…"
"HAA!" A male's voice alerted him from behind and he turned too
late.
His head was bashed by some kind of pole and he was knocked to
the floor. Father wasn't discourage and continued to hit his limp
body.
After a few more minutes of feeling his bones breaking, organs

rupturing and skull cracking, the man stopped. Not at all bothered by
the damage done by Father, his upper body sat upright and he gave
a demented grin at the startled man.
Father was foolish enough to drop his weapon and took a step back.
Seeing a chance, Marcaunon jumped on the man and bind the
gorilla with his magic. One has to wonder how someone so obese
could be with Mother -a beauty.
"That kind of hurts… Like when you scrape your knee."
"M-m-m-m-mmmonster! Get off me! Get off you devil child!"
"Tsk! Rude. Just like your son."
The man stopped struggling and glared at Marcaunon with fury in his
brown eyes.
"What have you done to Caine!?"
"He's with Daughter Two, hanging at the dungeon." Pun fully

intended!
"How dare you kill my children! I'll fucking murder you once I get
free!"
"The same mouth as your son. No wonder that boy kept on cursing.
You're a bad parent."
Marcaunon used his fingers to pry Father's mouth open, and forced
his free hand into the wet cavern. With his grip fully on the tongue,
he pulled with all his magic induced strength.
"Punishment for teaching children how to swear, Mr. Cadmus."
"Tempus."
Marcaunon chuckled when he saw that he was only left with a

minute left. Hope was a beautiful thing to shatter.
"Point me… What was her name again… Ah yes! Point me Cailyn."
The wand on his hand swirled around before settling to his left.
Carefully, he followed his beloved Elder Wand and was unable to
hold a grin back when he saw her waiting at the main entrance of the
Manor, looking at her watch with anticipation, hope and desperation.
"Come on… Come on!" She whispered softly to herself as she paced
quietly.
Just as a few seconds was left, he apparated in front of her with a

loud crack. She screamed in fright and turned frantically towards her
wrist watch. One second more and she would have escaped!
"Too bad, isn't it… Miss Cailyn. A second more and you would be
home free."
"Please… Make an exception?"
"I'll think about it."
"W-where's my family?" She backed from his slowly, hoping to

distract him from noticing her approach to the door. She failed.
"Brother and Sister One are currently hanging at the dungeons.

Mother's in the kitchen. Father's near the basement."
She choked a sob.
"D-dead?"
"Don't worry… You'll join them soon enough."
With that, they were both engulfed in black flames.
Marcaunon felt as if he was in cloud nine whilst he made his way

back to the orphanage. His cloak was covered in blood and gore,
and he basks in the feeling of it. He had always had a fascination
with blood; ever since his town was turned into a bloodied battle field
painted in red.
He grinned as he reached the gates of his current accommodation. A
group of teenagers that were making their way towards the gate
hadn't noticed his presence and continued their discussion about
homework and projects to be done later at school.
They were wearing the typical uniforms that indicate their school,
carrying books and bags. One of the boys gave a sudden stop and
paled when he spotted Marcaunon. The rest followed his gaze and
one of them even fainted when they caught the metallic tang of blood
and rotten meat.
Marcaunon gave them an upward tilt of his lips as he brushed past

them. Just as he entered the orphanage, he heard their screams
when they realized the mess he had left on their clothes.
He chuckled at their dramatics and made his way to his room. Time
for a warm bath.
March 1953
Contrary to what the children believed, Marcaunon does not torture

poor little animals that stroll into the orphanage doors. He was not a
monster to these loveable creatures.
He looked up from the newspaper in his hands when he felt an

unfamiliar warmth against his ankle. Whilst he sat in his corner with
his legs crossed, a stray puppy had lay down near his feet. He
almost wanted to coo at the cute ball of fur right there and then, but
resisted as he had an image to uphold.
The other residences of Wool's were giving pitying looks at the

oblivious puppy, much to Marcaunon's amusement. He discarded the
papers aside to bend forwards and place the puppy in his lap for
petting.
It gave a yap of surprise but otherwise remained still.
He sighed in momentary contentment and blissfully thought; animals

are so much better than humans.
December 1954
Have you ever heard the concept of Love at First Sight? Yes? Then
you my dear friends have been dropped by your caretakers when
you were but a babe. A pity.
As many orphans came to know, Marcaunon was a beautiful

specimen to the human race. His aristocratic structured face, those
silky black yet messy nest he called hair, the pinkish kissable lips
that could make anyone's heart race with just a small tilt of it, and not
forgetting those devilish scarlet eyes surrounded by long thick lashes
behind his -very ugly, not that the orphans would say that out loud-
round rose tinted glasses. His body was petite and thin yet not overly
so to mistaken him for a girl, but it would take a moment of time to
distinguish his gender from appearance alone. He always had a
butterfly or two on his shoulders, spectacle or within his crown, and
they definitely enhanced his beauty. When he spoke, his voice alone
could silence a room full of snot-nosed orphan children; it was too
bad that they never heard him laughing whole-heartedly before. His
posture was perfect and if one were to put a stack of books atop his
head, it would stay perfectly still whilst he walked.
Most girls thought him to be the perfect fairytale knight, whilst guys
imagine him to be a damsel in distress -or a person to bully- due to
his somewhat fragile appearance. Those were the opinions of
outsiders that have never come into contact with him for a prolong
amount of time. The orphans and staff knew the real him, the
dangerous young man -for he could not be mistaken as just a boy -
that hid behind those angelic outer features.
Whilst Marcaunon was ten, there was a new arrival. The teenage
boys had hearts in their eyes whilst the little girls announced this
arrival as their new idol. Her name was Amanda Wakefield. She was
a natural redhead with long wavy hair that reached her lower back,
and bangs that cover her forehead. Her face structure covered for
her somewhat dull brown eyes and lesser eyelashes. She was tall
and her assets were in the process of maturing, much to the
hormone filled orphan boys' delight.
Amanda was 13, and she fell in love with a boy three years younger
than her.
Whilst this girl was busy making friends with both older and younger
children, Marcaunon was locked in his room by Mr. Smith; his
probation officer that had wrongly accused Marcaunon of killing the
orphanage's pet snake that was brought by Martha for the younger
kids to ogle . Insert snort here.
He was insulted that that man would ever think he would kill his own
Family and House mascot. Mr. Smith didn't hear his reasons and
stated that he could do it in the night when others were sleeping.
Marcaunon gave a list of reasons as to why his reasoning was
idiotic; his reward was being tossed inside his room. This was his
last day of wall-watching and he was filled with a week's worth of
energy to burn off. His room was too small to pace around, much
less to exercise.
He heard his guard's footsteps even before the door clicked open,
and was dragged towards the dining hall. His guard left after placing
a bowl of grey matter on his table, much to his relief. He hated
Parasites touching -dragging- him.
The somewhat edible substance that they called food was

unappealing and he still bemoans the fact that the newer kitchen
lady had terrible way of making porridge. Even he knew that porridge
was not supposed to be hard.
"Hi!" A cheerful voice greeted from in front of him. It was overly
cheerful and his porridge suddenly felt too sweet for his taste.
As always, he ignored the children whom were brave -stupid-

enough to even consider talking to him. The lesser species seemed
to not understand that she was being ignored and cleared her throat
rather loudly.
"Hello!" She greeted once more, with much more enthusiasm as she
sat down.
He continued to eat for the sake of it. He would have to tell his
servant to bring him some edible food; perhaps Chinese. He
suddenly had a craving for-
"Heyy! I know that you're hungry, but a lady is talking to you." She
interrupted his thoughts that were much more important than her.
Marcaunon placed his spoon down and wiped his mouth with a piece
of tissue elegantly, as if to prolong the inevitable; he drinks a cup of
water as well.
The girl waited patiently -while drumming her fingers against the
table impatiently - for him to finish before she spoke.
"So… Who are you?"
"It's only proper to introduce yourself first before asking."
She waved it off.
"We're still children. Don't mind don't mind. Now who're you?"
"If you so wish to not introduce yourself, you might as well not ask."
"Ughh fine! You should relax more. Name's Amanda Wakefield. I'm
13 and just arrived a week ago. I didn't see you around… Are you
new as well? We could explore this place together."
He sighed under his breath before glancing at the teen -that was
forcing her lips into a pout gone wrong that he almost grimaced- and
replying with serenest.
"A pleasure, I'm sure."
"Well?" The girl, Wakefield, demanded impatiently.
Marcaunon was not amused.
"Pardon?"
"I already introduced myself, now it's your turn. And I asked you if
you are also new." She stated snottily.
He resisted the urge to sneer at her and droned out in a somewhat

polite way.
"I have been here my whole life and you may call me Gaunt."
"Gaunt? That's your name?"
"Family name."
"What's your name?"
"You may call me Guant."
"The name your parents gave!" She snapped whilst he hid his
amusement by taking a sip from his cup.
"I wouldn't know if my given name was truly the name my parents
have given me."
"Then tell me your given name!"
"Given by whom exactly?"

"Stop it! Just tell me your name already!" He could tell that she was
on the verge of physically demanding answers from him, if the fists
that were clenched are any indication.
"If you insist."
"Yes I do!"
"Marcaunon Gaunt."
"Wha? What does that mean?"
"My name of course."
She let out a huff of air before composing herself and smiled sweetly
whilst batting her -non existing- lashes.
"Uhm… Will you show me around the orphanage, Marc?"
"I'm sure you have had enough opportunities to explore, this building
could never be considered a labyrinth. And I have not given you the
permission to call me by my name, much less a petname." He
drawled.
"I -I'm not really good with um.. directions! And don't be so stiff, it's
only a name!"
"Then perhaps you are in need of a map and not a tour guide." He
smiled politely before he got up and left a sighing teen behind.
He had assumed that she would leave him alone after that
conversation . He was of course, wrong. He was sure that the
orphanage was cursed to always prove him incorrect.
Wakefield would pop up at unexpected places each day, and babble

at him like your average typical teenage girl. She gossiped and tried
to start a conversation with him. All was shot down by a typical one
respond answer such as….
"Hey Me- Gaunt. Uhm, have you… err do you like anybody?"
"No."
"Really? Are you sure.. I mean, I won't tell anyone."
"No."
Or…
"Do you like books? I always see one with you everywhere."
"Yess."
"Uhm.. What sort of books do you like?"
"Any."
"Oh.. Err.. Ok…"
Or…
"Why don't you want to be called by your given name?"
A shrug.
"Then is it ok if I -" she winked but he interrupted.
"No."
And conversation closed.
She was persistent and it was driving him up his watching wall. He
had no such clue as to why she would want to waste his time by
talking to him. He could be doing a much more interesting thing such
as wall-watching without interference.
He could tolerate her presence fairly enough, but he reached his limit
when she decided to drop into his safe haven (room) without an
invitation.
She had the nerve to picklock his door -where in Morgana's saggy
tits did she learn that- and strode in like she owned the place. He
had gotten up from bed and told her as politely as humanely possible
to get the fuck out. But of course she played dumb -or perhaps she
was indeed dumb- and sat on his bed to continue her useless
babbling.
His rage meter reached the top and burst into shards, leading to his
door slamming shut on its own accord. She shouted in fright and
went to hug his arm, which was a bad move on her part. He locked
the door with a twitch of his finger and grabbed her by her neck.
She started to struggle but he made her limp with his magic.
"I have had enough of your fantasies. I am not your knight in shining
armor. I am not someone you could demand things from. I am not a
patient person, and tolerated you just because you were new and
curious. You have now made your presence most unbearable for me
and I could literally feel all my intelligence draining away with every
action and word you utter. Be honored that I will be the one to end
your pitiful existence." He hissed out, his accent was notable when
he was furious.
He had spent most of his life speaking in the noble tongue of snakes,
even before his time in the orphanage. This made him have a
somewhat hissing accent that could be considered quite erotic if you
were not looking into his enraged eyes.
He casted a few wards in place before letting her neck go. She was
unable to move or form coherent words other than a few wrecked
sobs.
Marcaunon took his spectacles off his face and brought out a dagger
from underneath his pillow. Just as he leaned closer, his glamours
dropped, showing his scarred features and marred skin that were not
covered by cloth.
"Shall we begin?" He asked innocently with a cruel smile playing on
his lips.
Wakefield screamed, but it went unheard by the other residence of

Wool's Orphanage.
The next day found Marcaunon in the playroom, reading through the
newspaper when he caught sight of an article that made him chuckle
under his breath. It indicated that the police had found a teenage girl,
kept barely alive whilst her assaulter brutally cut her open and
plucked her organs one after another. Her innards was placed in the
middle of a symbol and drawn in her blood. The police were
mystified as to why she was still alive after they found her, but soon
she died on her way to the hospital.
Clergymen were persistently telling the police that this was the work
of a demon, since his symbol was drawn beside the teenage girl's
body. The officers ignored them and stated that the culprit was the
same as another similar case called Cult Ritual. The symbol was
indeed identical and was not shown on the news back then. They
promised the people that the culprit will be brought to justice soon.
Marcaunon laughed dementedly outright after he had finished

reading said article. This made the orphans scatter away and flee
from the room he was in. They knew who was last spotted with
Amanda Wakefield and they will never reveal anything to the police,
lest they find their limbs scattered across the country. They had also
learnt to inform newly orphans that Marcaunon was off limits if they
didn't want to be buried six feet under.
**July 1955 **
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Armando Dippet
Dear Mr. Gaunt,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a
list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begin on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July.
Yours Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Deputy Headmaster
Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc, Chf. Warlock, Supreme

Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards
-Second Page-
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
By Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
By Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
By Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration
By Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Hurbs and Fungi
By Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions
By Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
By Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
By Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set of brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK
Yours Sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions
An old man with greying long beard, floppy hat, orange colored suit
and unicorn patterned tie stood outside the high gates of Wool's
Orphanage yet again.
Same orphanage, check.
He looked at the letter in his hand, ignored the forbidding feeling of

dread, and proceeded to walk towards the familiar building that Tom
Riddle once used to live at. He greeted Mrs. Cole with enthusiasm
while she sputtered and gapped at him.
"Mr. Dumbesdoor! W-what? Tom doesn't live here any longer." She
stuttered.
Same head Matron, check.
"Dumbledore, and I'm actually here for Mr. Gaunt." He said slowly,
gouging the reaction from the woman.
She looked confused for a minute before paling. This did not bode
well for Albus.
"Is something the matter?"
"No of course not. He has never had any visitors before… And I'll
have to assume that you are here for the same reason as Tom?"
"Correct!" Albus replied cheerfully while she led him towards the
stairs. "Will you tell me about him?"
"Strange things often happen around him, very nasty things."
Same answer, check.
Before he could question more, she stopped in front of Tom's room,

much to Albus's confusion. The confusion left soon after as she
knocked and spoke.
Same room, check.
"Marcaunon? You have a visitor." She told the boy, the same words
as she had said all those years ago. The boy's name even made the
professor's heart race for unknown reasons.
"How are you, Marcaunon?" Albus greeted as he entered and closed

the door.
The boy in question just stared at him as he sat at the seat where
Albus remembered little Tom sat once upon a time. He made himself
comfortable on the bed and faced the child. He ignored the
butterflies that were all over the room -and the boy himself; but at
least they weren't dead or pinned up.
"You're a doctor aren't you?" He questioned.
Albus's stomach performed some rather complicated acrobatics.
"No… I'm a professor."

"I don't believe you. Mrs. Cole wants me looked at. They think I'm…
different."
Albus wanted to retch but held it.
"Well perhaps they're right." Dejavu.
"I'm not mad." The boy announced forcefully.
"… Hogwarts is not a place for mad people. Hogwarts is a school,

school of magic."
The boy frowned, but just for a second before it disappeared.
Same reaction, check.
"You can do things, can't you Marcaunon?" Albus nodded once.

"Things that other children can't."
The boy observed him. Perhaps to see if he was speaking the truth.
"I can make things move with just my thoughts. I can make animals
do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen
to people who're mean to me." This time, Albus almost shat himself
at the answers. "I can make them hurt… if I want. Who are you?"
Same answers, check.
Albus gasped softly before he replied, trying to keep his voice

steady.
"Well I'm like you. I'm… different."
Albus begged to the omnipotent beings that the boy won't ask him to
prove it.
"Prove it." Merlin…

He made the very same wardrobe light up in flames, and the same
reaction was followed to the T. The boy's eyes widen behind his
glasses as he looked towards the wardrobe in horror.
"I think there's something in your wardrobe trying to get out,

Marcaunon." Don't tell me he's a thief as well!?
The boy stepped towards the wardrobe with caution and opened it,
revealing a box that was eerily similar to the one Tom once
possessed. The flames were extinguished and Albus moved to allow
him to lay the items on the bed.
Same bad habit, check.
Albus scanned the items and his heart began to run wild. They were
the exact same items; a collection of yo-yos. Trophies.
"Thievery is not tolerated in Hogwarts, Marcaunon. At Hogwarts you

will not only be taught how to use magic, but how to control it. You
understand me?"
"Of course, sir."
Albus handed him the letter and explained to him how to get to
Diagon Alley, the Platform and any questions he had. It was starting
to freak Albus out on how similar the boy was to Tom.
Same questions, check.
Albus fled the room with as much dignity as he can. At least he didn't
ask if wizards could talk to snakes!
After he made his way out of the orphanage, into an empty alleyway
and apparated back home, he choked on the lemon drop he had just
popped into his mouth and spat it out quickly. He now remembered
why the boy looked so familiar.
He looked exactly like how Tom was when he was younger. This
information made the soon-to-be-Headmaster faint right there and
then.
Same appearance, check.
1 st September 1955
Location: King's Cross Station
The walk across King's Cross Station towards Platform 9¾ was a

long one. It made Marcaunon, whom had been stuck inside the
orphanage building ever since his trip to the seaside, pant and sweat
rather inelegantly.
He entered a restroom near 9¾ to regain his breathing, wipe his

sweat and fix his appearance.
" Master your stamina is much to be desired." Soft hisses could

be heard from within the boy's robes. He ignored his servant for a
little as he was busy trying -and failing- to tame his messy black hair.
He gave up and shrugged.
" I was confined by an imbecilic woman, remember?"
" Indeed I do. Is Master… Happy?"
" I am content."
The snake stopped its hissing at its Master's satisfaction. Most

people would miss it, but it knows its Master well.
Marcaunon left the restroom and made his way towards the ward-
covered pillar. He leaned casually onto it and appeared on the other
side. The boy scanned the crowds for any familiar faces but
dismissed them for the Hogwarts Express.
The train looked as brilliant as it had been in his memories, albeit

having lesser scratches.
It was one of the few things that the Parasites disposed of whilst the
Wizarding world was still trying to negotiate a peace treaty. This
magnificent piece of art was bombed, killing young wizards and
witches along with it.
Marcaunon was saddened over the fact that the train was destroyed
more than the lives that were lost. Years of prolong war exposure
does that to people.
Before he could go sentimental over a train -of all things- he went

onboard to search for an empty compartment. After finding one in the
middle, he sat down; not bothering to un-shrink his trunk only to
place it elsewhere. He would rather have it on his person.
Come to think of it…
" Are snakes even allowed at Hogwarts?"
" They never did write anything about not being allowed to bring
other pets other than the three listed."
" Hmm, true."
Marcaunon gave a small wave of his hand to place a locking and

silencing charm on the door.
" Now that we won't be interrupted…" He mumbled as he pulled

out a book and opened the window partly for his little sinners to
enter.
Death slithered off of him and onto the windowsill. It hissed in

contentment, much to Marcaunon's amusement. They both ignored
the others that came knocking on the door and continued to do their
own thing.
After a peaceful train ride, Marcaunon walked a millimeter above the

muddy ground; making it seem as though he was gliding rather than
stomping through the muddy ground. He had learnt this little trick
whilst he was trying to cross a field full of mine-bombs without his
broom (it was destroyed when he crashed landed).
"Firs' years! Firs' years!" A familiar voice boomed and all the firsties
turned towards the half-giant, before they made their way to him.
"Four ta a boat!"
Whilst others wobbled onto their unsteady boats, his didn't move
while he boarded it; much to his boat-mates' jealousy. They could
suck on boogers for all he cared. They weren't the one whom almost
lost a leg due to some bombs. Not that it would be permanent, but
the pain wasn't worth it.
Marcaunon placed his fore and middle finger on the lake's surface,
not minding when the giant squid started to play with him -wrapping
a tentacle around his wrist. The other first year mudbloods and half-
bloods stared in horror whilst the purebloods hid it partially well.
Soon enough, they all arrived without a problem -except for one
student falling into the lake- and Hagrid introduced Dumb-as-a-door.
The old man smiled happily at the amount of mudbloods attending
the school.
Don't get him wrong, he had no problems with mudbloods -except for
their parents being Parasites- but in the olden days, the word
Mudblood was not used as an insult. It was like calling a species of a
cat. All cats can't just be cats can they? So of course they're called
differently. Burmese… Himalayan… Munchkin… Sphynx -he wished
Death was one, this IS his favorite animal- but he digressed.
Bumblybare continued to babble the usual speech of sorting and

etcetera. Marcaunon kind of tuned him out after seeing his wrinkly
face.
A thousand years or more ago

When I was newly sewn,
There lived four wizards of renown,
Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shares a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers
Thus Hogwarts School began.
Now each of these four founders
Formed their own house, for each
Did value different virtues
In the one they had to teach.
By Griffindor, the bravest were
Prized far beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
Would always be the best;
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were

Most worthy of admission;
And power-hungry Slytherin
Loved those of great ambition.
While still alive they did divide
Their favorites from the throng,
Yet how to pick the worthy ones
When they were dead and gone?
Twas Gryffindor who found the way,
He whipped me off his head
The founders put some brains in me
So I could choose instead!
Now slip me snug about your ears,
I've never yet been wrong,
I'll have a look inside your mind
And tell where you belong!
Marcaunon snapped out of his daze when he heard the end of the
sorting hat singing, and clapped along the other students.
"Now when I call out your name, please come forward and sit on this
stool." Dumberdoor cheerfully stated as he began to call out the
names in alphabetical order.
The scarlet eyed boy tuned out Doublebone's voice yet again. He
couldn't help it. He loathes that man enough to freak said man out by
imitating Tom Riddle's posture, tone of voice, questions and
reactions. Let's not forget the items he had stolen just a day before
Bumblyburp came, and he made sure that all were frighteningly
similar.
"Gaunt, Marcaunon." Said student focused back once his name was
called and glided towards the stool. He noticed that there were…
none of Voldemort's followers' children at the Slytherin table. How
lucky!
He sat gracefully onto the stool, straight back and waited for the old
man to place the sorting hat on his head, which he did a second
later.
' Oh my, I have never sorted out the Master of Death before.'
' Hm, I would think Death would be picky when choosing someone to
bond to.'
' Indeed he must be, but you are quite interesting yourself, young
world hopper.'
' My, you're making me blush.'
' Even atop your head, I could tell that your cheeks are not red.'
' I have good control over my body.'
' Indeed. Well, shall we begin the sorting?'
' Take your time. I rather enjoy seeing Dundledone sweat.'
' I imagine so. Hmmm you used to be Griffindor… You are indeed
brave, but you would rather push a person in front of you to save
your own skin; too much self-preservation for being a noble martyr."
' Yess… I admit that I would rather throw everyone into the sea than
let the boat sink. Everyone betrays; its human nature.'
' Your quote of Knowledge is Power definitely fits Ravenclaw. If you
were to become Ravenclaw, your housemates would constantly be
jealous of your vast collection of unworldly knowledge.'
' Because I've lived long enough to surpass Doodiedums's age, I

could say I have spells that are unknown or undiscovered to this
world. Knowledge comes with experience. And with experience
comes power.'
' You are indeed a hardworker… Actually you're quite lazy without
Death persisting for you to do paperwork.'
' Nobody likes paperwork.'
' Your loyalty to yourself is remarkable… albeit self-centered, and if I

could roll my eyes, I would. The badgers would be eaten alive with
you in their garden. Especially with someone with such a bothered
mind.'
' Ah but you forget that I am polite. If you do not love yourself, you
cannot love others ( here the hat snorted) . And my mind is perfectly
sane, thank you very much.'
' And that is what worries me, both with being polite and actually
sane enough to think. You could build an army of loyal hardworking
people who do not even know the word betrayal!'
' True.'
' Lastly… Slytherin. You are of course cunning and power-hungry,

though you lack the ambition.'
' I do have an ambition that I work hard for!'
' Planning Muggle-genocide when you are bored isn't called

ambitious.'
' Perhaps… By the way, did you know that Honey Badgers love to
eat Snakes?'
' Ah? Oh! I see I see. Well, I don't want to be the one to ruin your
masterplan -and get shredded in the process- so… you will do well
in…'
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
' Thank you. Perhaps we could converse some more in the future? A
camping or fishing trip would do wonders!'
' Of course, young badger.'
Dumbiedoor looked at Marcaunon with a shocked -and suspicious-

expression as he freed his head from the hat. He estimated that he
took quite some time but brushed it away and head towards the
badgers that were cheering and clapping.
The transfigure professor had assumed that he would be sorted into

Slytherin -which was not exactly false- and be the exact copy of Tom
Riddle. Marcaunon knew that Dumpleboar was neither blind nor
dumb, and no doubt thought him the second coming of a Dark Lord
whom came from the very same line as the Heir of Slytherin. He
supposed he had played the Riddle role too flawlessly back in the
orphanage.
Too bad for Bumbiepoo that Marcaunon had other much more
important matters to tend to. And that he is a magnificent actor.
If he were to follow in Tom Riddle's footsteps -tempting but not worth

it- just to see Dumbolduck try to dispose a bud in the making… The
goat could either get lucky and actually get rid of him or hinder him in
staying at his dream home.
But he digressed once again.
His robes and tie changed their colors to match the house of
badgers and he felt weird being made to wear them. He knew that
green and silver matched him far better than yellow and black.
He shook his head to clear the thoughts of what he would look good
in, and buckled his mask in place; smiling at his new housemates.
Time to begin his new life in the Magical World.
Finally, a fresh start!
A/N:
IMPT: Tom from Harry's original world will be Harry's bio son, and
they will not end up together . They will have a normal (as much as
two killers can be normal) father/son relationship. As for the pairing,
it's LV/HP. Not TMR/HP. I'm pairing up Voldemort from "this" world
with Harry. It'll still be long before they meet, so we'll all have to be
patient. Heck, even I haven't met him and I have already pre-written
future chapters.
The name Marcaunon is Sindarin, an Elvish language from LOTR,

and the meaning behind that name is Ruler. The meaning behind the
name of Harry is Ruler as well, and I thought that it'll match with the
other Gaunts. M a R volo, M o R fin, M e R ope…. M a R caunon. \
(o3o)/
Take note that I am not making fun of any religion. Oh and I don't
really know what they do in exorcism other than throwing holy water
and chanting/praying… Forgive me for my lack of knowledge.
I'll start calling Older!Harry as Marc or Marcaunon from now on, even
in A/Ns. Not to confuse you all… and myself.
**Some lines in the year of 1955 is from Harry Potter and the Half
Blood Prince, where Dumbledore shows Harry his memories of
meeting young Tom Riddle. I wanted Marc to repeat what Tom said
just to make Dumbles shite himself.**
I want to thank you all for reviewing/favs/follows! Every time I get a

notification, I have the motivation to write more (even though editing
something this long is a pain).
Rainbows and popcorns,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 3
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture, Underage M-Preg, Mentions of Rape.

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
" Spells"
Chapter 3: Hogwarts Years
1 st September 1955
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 1
The sorting continued in a similar fashion; calling of names,

announcing of House, and of course the clapping. Oh he was so
going to create a spell to reduce volume to one's own ears.
Marcaunon could tell that the upper years (mainly sixth and seventh)
were bored and hungry, though the house of Serpents was more
subtle in their body language and expression.
In Marcaunon's original dimension, most Lions (he's being

hypocritical since he was a lion as well) and Badgers (now he's a
hybrid lioger) would think that Slytherins are for evil Dark Wizard and
Witches. They would lie, cheat and take advantage of you. Of course
that's somewhat true, but adults should not judge little eleven year
olds. They're children and could not even place a proper mask on
yet. It would take at least their reaching of fourth year to master their
emotionless blank mask that many Slytherins wear.
He should really stop getting side-tracked.
His eyes scanned the head table. He recognized Horace Slughorn

right off the bat; he was much younger looking due to his straw
blonde hair (a little on the grey side, but he had hair!) and still plump
in the belly. On first glance, he could pass as a pushover Slytherin,
making people underestimate him whilst he analyzed them
thoroughly. The glee on his face when he heard the name Gaunt
didn't go unnoticed by Marcaunon, and he would be looking forward
to having a nice chat with the residence Potions' Master.
Next was Armando Dippet. If he remembered correctly the

Headmaster was three hundred and eighteen years old, and would
be dead next year. This would lead to Bumblebee being chosen as
Headmaster.
Lastly was Filius Flitwick. The half-goblin looked to be in his early

twenties, and probably new towards teaching. Even though still
young, Flitwick's dueling skill was not one to be underestimated.
Marcaunon always wondered why Dumbshite never recruited
Flitwick for his Order of Barbequed Turkeys. He made a mental note
to gain Flitwick as an ally. As they say, one can never have too many
allies.
His eyes swept the table once again to double confirm that he had
not missed anyone else -which he didn't. The other professors were
unknown and he would bet a knut (yess he was that stingy) that
Voldemort had already cursed the DADA position. Perhaps he could
amuse himself each year by having a hand in making the DADA
professors leave early. Maybe he could even feed the Basilisk a
professor or two as a peace offering! Isn't that exciting?
The sorting was finally finished -much to the starving students'

happiness- and Dippet stood to give an opening and welcoming
speech. It was so much better than Dumbafork's. At least he did not
attempt to speak garbbish at the end of said speech. The
Headmaster clapped his wrinkled hands once and everyone cheered
(the first years startled) when the food appeared.
"Hello, I'm Promona Sprout. Hogwarts sure is beautiful, isn't it?" A

slightly plump girl with brown hair and eyes, reddish cheeks and
bright smile introduced herself to the group of Hufflepuff first years.
Hogwarts truly is a wonderful place he agreed.
"Beautiful? It's amazing! And I'm Arnold Walker by the way. I never
knew that magic existed until I've gotten my letter from Professor
Dumbledore." The boy sitting across from her replied with a grin on
his face and a goblet of pumpkin juice in one hand. His head was a
mess of dirty blonde whilst his blue eyes sparkle with happiness. He
somewhat reminded Marcaunon of one of the Parasites he had
played with. If he remembered correctly, it was a woman he
nicknamed Mother, her name was lost to him after he left the Manor.
"A muggle-born? I am as well! My family and I were pleasantly

surprised when the Professor dropped by and announced that there
was a world of Magic hidden just under our noses. Are you one as
well, Sprout? Oh and I'm Connor Hill, but Conner's fine." A boy with
neat dark hair and eyes spoke. And as expected, his face was full of
smiles. Merlin, he had forgotten that the Badgers are usually filled
with mudbloods. They were lucky he refers from shedding Magical
blood like Voldie does.
"Please, call me Promona. And pureblood. My family has been in
Hufflepuff for generations." Sprout replied. That explained why she
became the Head when she's older… Or perhaps being a Herbology
professor comes with being Head Puff. Like how all the Potion
Master in Hogwarts became Head of Slytherin, or Transfiguration
Professors become Head of Lions, he noted.
"Do we have to wear these hats at all times? I'm Christopher Davies,
muggle-born. Call me Chris." Another boy questioned. His chestnut
brown hair parted sideways, none covering his dark green eyes
watching the hats with exasperation.
"No, mum said that the hats are only for special occasions; such as
the welcoming feast. This is my little sister Maria, and I'm the more
stunning and attractive twin Ave. Our family -the Abbots- has been in
all the houses apart from Slytherin." One of the twins answered.
Both were identical and only a person that could sense their magical
signatures could tell them apart. Marcaunon took note of both.
They had dark blonde hair and brown eyes, similar to an Abbott he
knew of back then. Both were wearing identical grins on their faces.
"I am going to deny that my lovely sister being the more stunning
twin, do call me Mia. Maria makes me sound like I'm in trouble!" The
other twin chirped.
"You both look identical to me… Oh but thank heavens for small
mercies. I doubt I could get used to wearing a pointed hat at all
times." Davies sighed happily as he grabbed a spoonful of mash
potatoes.
What is wrong with wearing wizarding hats!? Bloody Mudbloods are

already forcing their traditions and beliefs upon Magicals -
contradicting everything. Have they never read the Bible and Magical
History!? It's common sense that our magic comes from Goddess
Hecate.
Now they complain about our daily wear. What next? Force the Dark
Families to tear down their Manors to make room for smaller
houses? Making House Elves look Dark and Evil just because 99%
of the wizards could never achieve wandless magic? Oh wait! It has
already been done in his original dimension.
Marcaunon sneered inward at how pathetic the Ministry has fallen.

They should teach Mudbloods about their history, not follow Parasite
beliefs! Because of these types of people, Dark Lords were created
and the civilians would suffer.
"I heard that Slytherin produces Dark Wizards and Witches. Is that
true or are they just rumors? I'm Risa Edeson, call me Risa. I'm a
half-blood." A girl sitting next to Marcaunon questioned curiously.
She has dark brown hair that reached past her chin, and black sharp
eyes that were shining.
Yess Slytherin produces Dark Magicians whilst Hufflepuffs produces

splendid gardeners. Note the sarcasm.
"It's true. The very first Dark Wizard to be known was Salazar
Slytherin himself. It is said that their common room is filled with Dark
Tomes and Artifacts. I'm Suzzie McQuillen by the way. Pureblood." A
girl with curly light brown hair and eyes confirmed with a somewhat
solemn air that was ruined by her smirk. The rule clearly states that
the students are not allowed to bring any Dark tomes or artifacts to
school, and it's illegal as well.
He couldn't take this anymore!
Magic is magic; Dark, Light or Neutral. The school should be

teaching them about all three, not become bigoted and define them
with colors. Dark does not mean Black or Evil. Light does not mean
White or Good. Neutral does not mean Grey or borderline Evil.
Dark Wizards don't make them evil, just as Light Wizards don't make
them good.
There is no Good or Evil, only Magic.
As much as he wanted to correct them, he would not… Yet. He'll

slowly break the children from the Ministry's influences and let them
know the true history of Magic.
Once again, he got distracted and now they were all looking at him;
waiting for him to introduce himself. He smiled politely back at them.
It hasn't been an hour and his facial muscle was ready to collapse on
him. He sincerely hopes that he doesn't look constipated.
"Nice to meet you all, I'm Marcaunon Gaunt. I'm sure we will get
along nicely."
"Marh-cauw-naun?" Davies questioned, looking quite taken aback.

He knew that Mudbloods would generally find these types of names
odd.
"Marcaunon." He corrected patiently. "Our family has a tradition of

naming their children with… unique names that begins with the letter
M."
"What does your name mean, actually? Not to be rude or anything!"

Walker asked.
"Ruler."
"What language is it from? I've never heard of such…"
Before Marcaunon could reply, Ave interrupted with a clear of her

throat.
"Wow… Is your family uhm… full of dark wizards and witches? I-I
mean because only Dark families like the Blacks name their children
with… star constellations."
"Indeed they are rather… Dark. Rest assured that I am unlike them.
My family and I are not on speaking terms." Because his father had
no idea of his existence whilst there is a high percentage that he was
forgotten by his mother.
They relaxed and chattered as they ate, him included. He didn't want
to be an outcast and forced himself into smiling for social niceties.
He wondered idly if there was a spell for making his corners of his lip
stick upwards.
True to what others say, Hufflepuff was filled with friendly and
cheerful -leftovers- people. Marcaunon almost retched at the sheer
sweetness of these Hufflepuffs. He had lost his already small
appetite in fear of getting diabetes.
"Did you notice that you have a few insects in your hair, Gaunt?" No,
he has not noticed a few butterflies attached to his person all
throughout his journey from the orphanage.
"I have. Butterflies have a tendency to flock me." He replied evenly.
"Really!? That's so cool! Did you put butterfly food all over your
hair?" Why he was even bothering to give a reply, he would never
know.
"Butterflies do not eat, they drink. They have a long narrow tube in
their mouth called a proboscis that acts as a straw, and usually set
themselves on flowers to drink nectar."
"So you put nectar on your hair?"
"Walker! Stop asking Gaunt such questions! He's embarrassed!"

Sprout chided whilst Walker gave an apologetic look towards
Marcaunon.
He was not embarrassed! His hair is nectar-free as well, thank you

very much!
"It's been in…" Mia started.
"… our mind since…" Ave continued.

"… the boat ride…" They both turned towards him.
"Why are you not wearing shoes?" They asked in unison. "Does
Hogwart even allow that? Won't the Headmaster scold you if you do
not wear proper footwear?"
"There are no rules that specifically said that students are needed to
wear covered shoes. The Headmaster is a busy man. We should
finish our food before they disappear." He supplied and the group
was quick to shove food into their mouth.
Soon they were finished with eating and the plates disappeared. The
fifth year prefects kindly told the first years to follow them and off
they went. He somewhat regret asking the hat to place him in
Hufflepuff.
The entrance to their common room was a surprise to Marcaunon.

Whilst he had the Marauder's Map back then, he had never had an
excuse to seek out the Badger's domain. It was located beside the
kitchens. They had to tap a rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff on a barrel -
middle of the second row, two from the bottom- to reveal the tunnel.
The prefects explained that they had a security device to repel non-
Hufflepuffs, wrong barrel tapping, or tapping incorrectly. This would
result in the lids bursting off and drenching the intruder in vinegar.
They emphasized not to give away the secret to the other houses
and demonstrated to the first years.
They entered a creepy tunnel that made the girls cling to the guys
(he had discreetly retreated to use one of the guys as his personal
meat-shield) whilst the prefects looked amused. When they entered
the common room, the first years had awe filled eyes and dropped
jaws -apart from Marcaunon of course.
The room felt welcoming and warm, the sunlight entering the
windows and made the circular room looks quite cosy. If Marcaunon
was a cat he would be basking in the sunlight whilst being sprawled
on the grassy floor. The room was decorated with plants; giving it an
earthly feeling. Some of the plants were even singing and dancing,
much to the first year's amazement.
In the middle of the room was a fireplace, with sofas, armchairs, and
bean bags littered randomly around.
They were soon introduced to their head of the house, Herbert

Beery, before being ushered to their respective gender dorms. The
boys would be sharing a room -similar to the Gryffindor dorms-and
Marcaunon chose the furthest bed. Thank Merlin that the beds had
curtains; the dorm was too sunny and bright for his taste (along with
its occupants).
Whilst his dorm mates were still chatting with one another, he went
to unpack his trunk. He place his book bag that was already filled
with all his required school items on his nightstand, his potion
equipment and ingredients inside said nightstand (after applying an
expandable charm) and warded it. After finishing his task, he
discreetly armed his bed with weapons that he took out from his
trunk. One can never know if their roommates were hidden killers.
He kicked his trunk underneath his bed and warded his whole bed,
making it almost as safe as Hogwarts itself. Blame his paranoia and
those damnable Parasites whom have the habit -and suicidal
tendencies- of dropping bombs on top of his cottage.
His dorm mates soon followed his example with unpacking and went
to sleep earlier than he expected them to. Well, it was a long and
tiring journey to Hogwarts.
He stripped and changed into his sleeping pants, checked that his
glamours were still in place and closed the curtains surrounding his
bed. As he was lying down, he closed his eyes and cleared his mind.
Marcaunon began his nightly chore of storing his new memories into
orbs and placing them onto shelves inside his mindscape -eerily
similar to the Hall of Prophecy. He strengthens his occlumency
defenses and finally succumbed to sleep; his shields preventing him
from having fits of nightmares.
Marcaunon spread butter over his croissant whilst he nods or hums

at appropriate times as his housemates converse.
"What do we have first?" Walker questioned them as he took a bite

of bacon. Marcaunon wrinkled his nose in disgust at the oil splatters.
How can one eat something that greasy early in the morning, he
could never know.
He turned to look at the boy before he answered with a small upward

tilt of his lips.
"First period is Herbology with Professor Beery, followed by a fifteen

minutes break, and afterwards Potions with Professor Slughorn for
second period. Both will be together with the Slytherins. We'll have
lunch afterwards, and then free period until half past three. This will
be followed by Flying lessons with Madam Hawk at the field, all the
houses will be present. Astronomy with Professor Sora will be at
midnight, so I recommend you all to take at least an hour's worth of
nap time after dinner."
The group of first years stared at him with wide eyes.
"Do we have similar timetables?" Ave asked.
"Yess." He answered with a nod.
"Blimey, I believe we will not be needing our timetable with Marc

here." Davies exclaimed whilst the others laughed.
Marc. He did not in any name or form give them permission to call
him that -or even his first name actually. He withhold the desire to
Crucio them into oblivion and smiled sheepishly whilst he rubbed the
back of his neck.
"I heard that Professor Dumbledore plays favorites with his own
house." McQuillen whispered to the group suddenly.
"We should not judge him based on rumors." Marcaunon chided her
and hid a grimace behind his goblet. It was true. One of the reasons
as to why he chose to become a Badger.
"You're right… Do we have Transfigure tomorrow?"
"Yess we do."
"If he does play favorites, we should trust Hogwarts rumor mill more
often." Walker snorted.
"Hmm… May I ask you a question, Marc?" Mia asked with a tilt of
her head.
"You already did, but go ahead."
She grinned as she spoke.
"What's your first language? I mean, your accent isn't like any I've
heard before. They're somewhat… it's really pleasant to the ears."
She blushed whilst most of the others laughed at her, much to his
confusion.
He raised an elegant brow. Why was she blushing? It was only a

question.
"English is indeed not my first language if that's what you're asking.

We have fifteen minutes before first period starts. Shall we get a
move on?"
"Ah! You're right. We should go in case we get lost on our way

there." Sprout exclaimed as she stood up.
"Hey Ave, should I assume our dear friend Mr. Gaunt has already
memorized the layout of the Castle?" Mia asked with a smirk.
"Well my dear adorable sister Mia, I have assumed as much. But
why don't we ask him for confirmation?" Ave replied with a matching
smirk.
The group turned towards him as they stood, much to his

amusement.
"Your assumption is correct."
"How? You were with us the whole time, and we haven't had time to
explore!" The twins demanded in unison.
"There's a map pinned beside the double doors of the Great Hall. I
memorized the routes whilst the first years were waiting to be
sorted." It was the truth -not all, but still the truth. There is indeed a
map pinned outside the Great Hall, and he had also memorized the
routes whilst he was waiting for the firsties to be sorted, just at a
different year.
"W-what!? You memorized the entire castle grounds!? All seven

floors!?" Sprout whispered -loudly- in amazement.
He shrugged and led them towards the greenhouse. Some of the

Slytherin first years had overheard their not so quiet conversation
and were following at a safe distance, not that the Hufflepuffs
noticed. Marcaunon resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
After a few shortcuts, they were first to arrive followed by the

Slytherin students. Said Slytherin students were all looking at him
with calculating eyes and even without legilimency he could already
guess what they were thinking. It seems like his group would be
stalked if their houses were to have lessons together in the future.
Just a minute before the bell rang; Professor Beery arrived and led
them into their classroom/greenhouse.
"Good morning class! You may all refer to me as Professor Beery. I'll
introduce you all to the fine subject of Herbology-" He listened with
one ear as the Professor explained what was required of them when
they were in the greenhouse; like safety.
They soon donned on their gardening robes and gloves. Earmuffs

were draped on their necks as the Professor told them about
Mandrakes. After half an hour of explaining and warnings their
earmuffs were safely covering their ears, and the class began to try
and uproot the plants.
He was confused as he thought that they would be learning about

Mandrakes in their second year, but he shrugged it off. His mind was
soon drifting off whilst he worked. He could think of ways to use
Mandrakes.
He could drop a tank full of adult Mandrakes in a village or city. Their

cry can be fatal to any who hear it without protection. The Parasites
do not know of them and before they could do anything, they would
drop dead from prolong exposure of the cries.
Hell, if he can't convince the banshees to scream at those Parasites,

he would just have to plant and nurture these plants himself. He was
going to make a greenhouse in his backyard after moving into
Death's cottage anyway. Maybe Death could help him look after his
garden whilst he was in Hogwarts?
… It would be interesting to see if his plants would survive an

exposure from Death.
After the end of the lesson with some of the students dropping the
plants by accident, they had lunch before heading towards the
dungeons. As expected, the Slytherins followed behind them at a
safe distance. Was he their shortcut tour guide? Insert dramatic non-
existing wind with his deadpanned expression here.
Just as they sat down, Slughorn entered with a jolly smile plastered
on his chubby face. He introduced himself before demanding the
students to partner up with the other house; much to the Serpent's
house ire.
The day continued in a slow pace, and soon they were all in their
respective beds. He rubbed his cheeks in a circular motion to try and
get his numb facial muscles to feel once more.
His facial muscles were screaming at him in rage at their abuse.

Smiling was the worst torture he has ever had the pleasure of
experiencing. A couple of decades without moving said muscles
apart from talking and eating -ignoring the time where he smiled for a
short amount of time in satisfaction - would do that do any guy.
Morgana have mercy on his lips.
" Having facial cramps?" His snaky companion asked in

amusement.
Marcaunon groaned and buried his face into the pillows, thus
missing his servant's amused expression as it exchanged looks with
one of the butterflies surrounding his enclosed bed.
September 1956
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 2
The hall was filled with curious chatter and scandalizing rumors as
the students wondered why Professor Dunderdoom was seated in
Headmaster Dippet's throne-like chair. One even said that
Dumplingboar had poisoned Dippet just so he could take over
Hogwarts. That amused him so much that he couldn't hold back a
snort. His Housemates gave him a weird look since he was always
elegant and calm, but the rumor was almost spot on!
Marcaunon himself was bored as he waited for the sorting to finish.

He was hungry and tired. His bad mood was sensed by the sensitive
Puffs and for once, he was grateful when they do not try and engage
him in conversations.
Albus with-too-many-middle-name Dumbledore stood up from his
seat and the hall fell into silence. He coughed to clear his throat and
put his -Marcaunon's actually- wand on his throat. Another mental
task has been noted down: take back his Hallows.
"Welcome newcomers and welcome back old ones to Hogwarts!

Before we begin, I have a few announcements to make. Armando
Dippet had recently passed onto his next great adventure. Let us all
give him a moment of silence."
The staff and students both lower their heads in respect.
"A great man, he was… I have been selected to be the new

Headmaster of Hogwarts, whilst Professor Veridian shall be the
Deputy Headmaster. And also, please welcome the new
Transfiguration Professor, Minerva McGonagall. She will also be
Gryffindor's Head of the House."
A very young looking Professor McGonagall stood up and bowed

whilst the students welcomed her with their applause. The newly
named Headmaster swept his arms and silence reigned once more.
"Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And
here they are; Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you." The
senile old fart sat down and the tables were filled with food.
Marcaunon bemoaned how his future years would be filled with

those exact same words every term and grimaced from behind his
cup of pumpkin juice -even pumpkin juice is getting old. He should
really create a volume reducer spell… Or perhaps a spell that mutes
everything -turn themselves deaf.
"Did Dumbledore short-circuited his brain?"
"No… The better question is… Is he mad?"
"Mad? Yes, perhaps he is a little bit mad. Pass the salt would you,
Marc?"
"A mad genius would be a better saying."
He passed the salt to his housemate and snorted. One can never
underestimate the gossip mill at Hogwarts. Dundiedoo would be
rumored to be insane by the end of the feast.
"Rumor's saying that he got his head hit by a bludger and became
senile." Does Dumbles even play Quidditch…?
After the feast, they made their way to their respective dorms and
began their duty of unpacking. As usual, he warded his bed as if it
were a fort and closed his curtains before tossing a black mamba
onto his pillows, whilst the butterflies on his person flutter and landed
on the drapes.
It hissed a few words of complaint but didn't protest to the rough

treatment; It was already used to Its Master's tough love . He
stretched himself and yawned.
" Good night Death , my Sinners."
The common room was noisy as usual as the Badgers chattered

excitedly about the Quidditch tryouts. He remembered being a
seeker once and to be truthful, he preferred flying without the aid of
brooms.
He thought back to the time where he was forced to learn how to fly
when he was thrown off a cliff by those blasted Parasites. Not to
mention how they wrapped his hands, arms and legs together with
chains -he couldn't even move a finger! His sight was blindfolded
and he was gagged, not forgetting that they used some sort of neck
restrains to deny neck movement. It was cruel and he suffered from
constant nightmares due to their treatment.
At first he had done so on accident when he felt his life on the line,
and he was all but stubborn. It took him a few months before he
decided to throw himself off a cliff thinking that if he wanted to live,
he better fly.
And fly he did.
He never wanted to repeat such training ever again. He had almost

flattened himself since his magic didn't react until he was but a few
feet from getting his innards splattered all over the rocks.
That moment where your life flashed through your eyes was the
scariest thing in the world, he had to admit. It was such an eye
opener that he was almost tempted to create his own Horcrux.
Almost.
The scarlet eyed almost-teen snorted at his train of thought and

repressed a shudder.
"Hey Marc! Let's go to the tryouts!" Davies yelled from across the
room. Most of the Puffs turned towards him with twinkling eyes and
he felt the need to bolt out of the room.
"I'm not really a fan of Quidditch…" Or flying on brooms.
"Oh come on! You'll love it! Promise!" A random senior said with
enthusiasm.
"Yeah, you need some exercise and sun anyway. You're way too
skinny and pale."
Before he could deny the need to straddle a piece of wood, Edeson

and McQuillen appeared and dragged him towards the exit. He
protested half-heartedly and sighed in resignation when Walker
appeared from behind just to confiscate his study material.
He sometimes wished that they know the real him. They would not
even dare to touch him. Ugh cooties!
The group of Badgers that wanted to tryout made their way towards
the field. The quidditch team was already waiting for them.
They were separated into which position they were trying by the
captain. The group of wannabe seekers was the first to be called out.
They were all given identical brooms and asked to catch one of the
five snitches that were already flying throughout the field.
After that the five will be having a showdown for the fastest to be
chosen and selected.
Marcaunon relaxed against the bleachers as he waited for his group

to be called. Most of his second year mates were devastated when
he announced not wanting to play seeker. If he would be forced to
participate in the sport, he would have the right to choose the
position he wanted. And he wanted the position that could hurt
others in the name of sport.
Majority of the Puffs do not have the guts to hit another player with
bludgers and that was one of the main reasons as to why they kept
losing the Quidditch Cup to the other houses -especially the
Slytherins. Snakes are ruthless.
He would paint the field with their opponent's blood, innards and
brains. Not that the Puffs would know that it was intentional of
course. He needed a physical outlet to vent his frustrations without
his housemates thinking that he was violent. Once again, it's all in
the name of sport.
After the seeker was chosen, a petite third year boy whose name he
had missed, his group was called and his party of eight wished him
good luck -not that he needed it. He mounted one of the brooms and
was passed a wooden bat that was enchanted to not break upon
constant contact.
He never really paid much attention to how a Beater would be

chosen before, so he listened carefully and went into position. He
would have to try and aim for the cardboard players and defend his
team against any stray bludger.
He flew through the air and twirled the bat in his hand. The broom's
speed isn't that bad and he could balance with one hand.
"Are you ready, Gaunt?" The captain shouted from below.
"Yess…" He drawled, removed his spectacles for a much better

vision and narrowed his scarlet eyes.
He was oblivious of his Housemate's nerves upon seeing the color of

his eyes, and continued to hit the bludgers that were shot from an
enchanted shooting machine. It was similar to the Parasite version of
a baseball pitching machine.
All the bludgers he hit knocked the cardboard players off their
brooms and he never once missed when defending his team of
cardboard mates. The captain whistled in appreciation at
Marcaunon's batting skill.
If he was a Parasite, he would totally rule the baseball world.
After the machine stopped vomiting bludgers, he dived down without

a second thought. He could hear shouting but ignored them in favor
of feeling the cool air brushing against his reddened cheeks. He
pulled up just as his broom brushed against the grass and exhaled
softly. It had been so long since he flew.
He donned his spectacle and hopped off of his broom, only to be

surrounded by the quidditch team members that were awed by his
dive. The newly positioned seeker looked worried that he would be
replaced and sent him glares every now and then.
"Merlin Marc! That was amazing!" The Abbott twins exclaimed with
excited grins on their faces.
"Amazing!? It was insane! You could've broken your neck!" Sprout

scolded as she placed her hands on her hip, frowning in disapproval.
"You have to admit it though, that was one bloody hell of a dive."
Walker announced and hit him on the back playfully. "Nice going
mate!"
"Want to try catching a snitch?" The captain said in a whisper, but

they heard it all. The third year seeker's face was furious red and
Marcaunon could practically see the smoke emitting from his ears.
He laughed it off and shrugged his shoulders.
After a few minutes of him giving non-answers, the captain

announced that he still had another Beater position so they were
quick to assemble. Marcaunon made his way to the bleachers and
wished his party luck on their chosen positions.
The tryouts ended with only him being chosen from second year. His
group congratulated him and stated that they would try again next
year, which he gave a nod of approval. People who quit just because
they lost once were better off not living.
Just as Marcaunon sat on one of the couches in the common room,

a few older Puffs stood in front of him with determination in their
eyes. He looked up at them in confusion.
"Can I help you?"
"We want to know if your eyes are really red." The leader said. "My
father once told me that only wizards and witches that perform the
darkest of the Dark Arts have red eyes."
"And we know that you're from a dark family, don't try to deny it! Only
they name their children weirdly." Another spoke up.
Marcaunon arched a brow and chuckled in mirth. It was true that his
eyes turned scarlet due to him playing around with Dark Magic, at its
highest level that is. Soul and Death magic would of course change
him. Luckily it didn't deform him into a snake man. He preferred
having a full nose, thank you very much.
"It is indeed true. My eyes are red." The common room was silent as
they listened to him. "But ever since my coming to this world, it has
always been red."
"… So you were born with red eyes?" One of the older teens asked.
He smiled at her with a shrug, not agreeing or denying her question.
The Badgers convinced themselves that he was indeed born with

red eyes and continued off where they left; chatting and playing
exploding snap amongst themselves.
Marcaunon took out one of his tomes and started to read it

absentmindedly. The Puffs were naïve and too trusting for his taste.
He remembered the words his former DADA Professor had once

upon a time ingrained in him, quite literally he might add; I must not
tell lies.
He was lucky that that Burdensome Jailer Dog had not forced him
into writing 'I may not tell lies' .
Blood quills were usually used for unbreakable contracts, and have
an instant effect once the writer's skin was permanently imprinted
with a vow. If he were to mark himself with those damn words, he
could never tell a single lie in his life, lest he wanted to become a
Parasite.
It's too bad for her that his skin was burnt by acid and chemicals,
resulting in him being scar free the next few weeks… Of course it
ended when he was cut open once again.
His thoughts were pushed aside as a beautiful Summer Azure

Butterfly landed on his arm and he gave it a small smile. He never
noticed as some of the older teenagers blush at how cute his
expression was.
1957
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 3
The soft almost non-existent sound of someone's bare feet was

amplified throughout the corridors as Marcaunon walked towards the
direction of the second-floor girls' lavatory. His housemates were
hard to escape from and he only had time after curfew to place all
the necessary charms inside Hogwarts. He's been doing for the past
few months.
Once his map of Hogwarts is fully complete, he would make one for
the Ministry, St. Mungo's, and Gringotts.
He suddenly thought about a song he used to sing when he was

bored in his cottage-like fortress.
(A/N: I recommend going to Youtube listen to Cartoon Heroes

whilst reading from this point!)
"We are what we're supposed to be…" He started singing whilst

looking down at the newly made Marauders' Map, now simplified to
Hogwarts' Blueprint.
"Illusions of your fantasy… All dots and lines that speak and say…
what we do is what you wish to do~"
He drummed his finger on his thigh.
"We are the color symphony, we do the things you wanna see~
Frame by frame, to the extreme!"
He twirled around before he continued his walk.
"Our friends are so unreasonable~ They do the unpredictable… All

dots and lines that speak and say… What we do is what you wish to
do!"
He checked the map again when reaching a fork and turned right
before holding his wand (11" Yew Phoenix feather) like a makeshift
microphone.
"It's all an orchestra of strings… doin' unbelievable things… Frame

by frame, to the extreme! One by one, we're makin' it FUN!"
He shouted the last word before slapping himself for being loud. He
peeked at the map and sighed in relief when the patrolling
Professors were not running towards him.
"We are the Cartoon Heroes… Oh oh ohhh~ We are the ones who're
gonna. Last. Forever! We came out of a crazy mind oh oh ohhh~
And walked out on a piece of paper!"
He grinned and pointed his rolled up map upwards.
"Here comes Spiderman, arachnophobian~ Welcome to the toon

town parteh! Here comes Superman, from never-neverland~
Welcome to the toon town parteh!"
He stopped at another intersection and peeked at his map before

running left whilst still singing in his microphone.
"We learned to run at speed of light~ And to fall down from any
height (here he jumped down from the top of the staircase to the
bottom) It's true, but just remember that what we do is what you just
can't do!"
He moved sneakily past a few non-sleeping portraits before skipping

off.
"And all the worlds of craziness~ A bunch of stars that's chasing us~
Frame by frame, to the extreme! One by one, we're makin' it FUN!"
He posed at the last word with a peace sign beside his head and his
tongue peeking out. It was a creepy cute pose that was often used
by girls acting cute in a picture. He would be mortified if anyone saw
him in such a pose, but he was enjoying himself too much to care.
It had been a long time since he felt so carefree.
"We are the Cartoon Heroes oh oh ohhh~ We are the ones who're
gonna. Last. Forever! We came out of a crazy mind oh oh ohh~ and
walked out on a piece a paper!"
He ignored his map in favor of skipping past a few statues whilst

pretending that they were his audience, and winked at the lot.
"Here comes Spiderman, arachnophobian! Welcome to the toon

town parteh! Here comes Superman, from never-neverland!
Welcome to the toon town PARTEH!~"
He paused and saunter with a solemn air.
"You think we're so mysterious… Don't take us all too serious… Be

original… And remember that… what we do is what you just can't
do… !"
He suddenly smirked and sang smugly.
"What we do is what you just can't do~ What we do is what you just
can't do~ What we do is what you just can't do~ What we do is what
you just can't do!"
He took a deep breathe in.
"We are the Cartoon heroes oh oh ohh! We are the ones who're
gonna last. For. Ev. Er. ~ We came out of a crazy mind oh oh ohhh~
And walked out on a piece of paper!"
He unrolled his map.
"There's still more to come, and everyone will be… ! Welcomed at

the Toon… Town… Paaaaarrrt- Holy crap!"
His eyes widen in horror when he took notice of the patrolling
Professors' names that were right behind of him. He ever so slowly
turned to them in a rusty robotic kind of way and saw that most of
them were hiding their laughter behind their hand.
How long have they been following him!?
"Mr. Gaunt… As interesting as it is to watch you… skip and pull

poses along the corridors, it is past curfew…" Professor McGonagall
stated with a stern face. It was betrayed by the mirth in her eyes.
Marcaunon blushed furiously and hid his burning face behind his
hands. How mortifying!
December 1958
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 4
"Welcome! I've heard a lot about you from both Mia and Ave." Mrs.
Abbott greeted as Marcaunon came out of the floo.
"Thank you for inviting me to your home, Mrs. Abbott." He smiled

and kissed her knuckle as a greeting.
Her face flushed in embarrassment and he could guess that she was
not used to Pureblood greetings. Perhaps she was a Mudblood that
married the scion of the Abbott family?
"Please, call me Jane. Mrs. Abbott makes me sound old. Follow me;
I'll bring you to their room."
He nodded and followed behind whilst memorizing the layout of the

manor. It was not as big as Malfoy Manor, but it was a decent size
for a Light Pureblood Family, unlike the Weasleys. That reminded
him, he had always wanted to know what wards were holding the
Burrow together and wondered if a crack in such wards would lead
the house to collapse on itself.
He complimented on her manor and received a stuttered thank you

in return. The twins really take after her, especially the way the three
of them blush.
His musings were cut short when Mrs. Abbott knocked on a pink
colored door. Not any type of pink, it was neon pink. He looked at her
with a face that expressed ' am I supposed to go in there? '
She gave him an ' of course' look. He swallowed a lump in his throat
and opened the door slowly, as if a creature would jump on him if he
were to startle the inhabitants of said room.
He was suddenly reminded of playing a game called Ju-on before.

Every single time he opened a bloody door, a bloody hand would
bloody grab him and make him scream bloody murder. Yes, there
were a lot of bloody spouting from his mouth when he played that
game.
Just as the door was almost fully opened, a hand shot from the
shadows and grabbed his wrist tightly. He gave a girlish scream -that
would be denied in the future- of bloody murder and started shaking
his wrist fiercely whilst shouting for a knife to cut said wrist off, much
to Mrs. Abbott's horror.
"Marc! Marcaunon! Relax, it's just me!" Mia was quick to reassure
the hysteric scarlet eyed teen.
Marcaunon swore that his soul had almost left his body in fright.
"Hey… Who knew Marc was such a scaredy-cat!" Hill laughed whilst
Ave patted Marcaunon's back in comfort.
He would not be frightened if he didn't think about that wretched

game in the first place! All thanks to the bloody neon pink door! Who
colors their door pink anyway!? If he one day becomes the Minister,
he would force everyone to use a sliding door that can only be
opened by a wand.
"Ok that's enough from you guys! Can't you see he's already pale
enough as it is!?" Sprout scolded them.
Just four years in Hogwarts and he had already changed so much.

He was growing soft in his old age. At least he knew that he won't
lash out and slice a person in half if they were to attempt to sneak
behind him.
"Fine fine. Sorry 'bout that. You're usually calm, and it was hard to
see you lose your cool. It isn't an excuse to keep on scaring you…
But who knew you were afraid of Ghosts! I mean, Hogwarts is full of
'em!" Hill exclaimed.
"… I played a horror game once. Other than the spirit grabbing your
wrist at random times when you open a door, it crawled on floors and
walls as well." Marcaunon murmured softly. He sat in between the
twins… Just in case.
"That does sound scary…" McQuillen squeaked. "W-What's the title

of the game?"
Ju bloody On.
"I can't remember. I only played it once."
He really was growing soft! Bloody horror games and their jump
scares. Now he'll have a hard time opening doors manually when in
Hogwarts. The Castle already has the creepy feel to it at night…
Now how was he supposed to take his nighty stroll alone!? Screw
that, he would be avoiding the Chamber of Secret's entrance! Who
knows what could crawl up such a tunnel… Add in shudder here.
1959
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 4 (going 15 years old)
He was drinking his beloved cocoa whilst savoring its sweet taste
when he was unceremoniously shoved out of his seat. This led to
how his fingers slackening, his hand unclenching, and his wrist bent
in an abnormal angle upon impact. The easier way to describe the
outcome from such an unfortunate accident was that he spilled his
beloved drink all over himself whilst sustaining a broken wrist.
"Ah.." A voice behind him spoke in surprise. "Errr, are you ok? I-it
wasn't on purpose, honest!"
Marcaunon slowly stood up from the floor to turn at the speaker. Said
speaker was a Gryffindor -judging by the tie- student, looking to be
around his physical age. He arched an eyebrow and looked
pointedly to his wrist and spilled drink.
"I-I'll pay for your drink! Is… Is it broken?" The boy stuttered out as
he fumbled around for his money pouch.
"It's fine. May I ask how you could accidently push a person that was
sitting -on a wide and long bench- in a very vast and secluded
area?" He questioned slowly as he tried to smile politely. Tried was
the keyword. He probably looked constipated and on the verge of
committing homicide.
"Uhm.. uhh… You see.. Uhm my friends… and I wanted to… err we
were wondering if you wanted to join us?" He laughed awkwardly
whilst rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. His face was crimson
as he stared at Marcaunon.
It gave him the shivers.
He resisted the urge to throttle the boy. Hogwarts does not supply
their students with cocoa and he could only damn well enjoy sipping
his beloved drink at Hogsmeade on weekends. ONLY.
"I would love to" The boy perked up. "but I should go visit Madam
Isabell to get my bone fixed." He deflated.
"Ah… I'm sorry! I-I was running at full speed and was unable to stop
in time. Err… sorry!"
"No no. We all have our moments of clumsiness." Marcaunon waved

it off. "I should be going."
"What about next week?"
"Forgive me, but my fellow Puffs and I have already agreed -"
"Then the week after?" The young Lion interrupted with an eager
face.
"Do. Not. Interrupt. Me. Again." He empathized each word with an

increase of Magic Pressure.
The young Lion looked ready to pass out, but squared his shoulders
and showed his bravery -stupidity- by opening his mouth yet again.
"Sorry mate! We Gryffindors just talk this way. Hahahaha…" He was

not his MATE!
"It's fine. My wrist is beginning to hurt real badly… So if you'll excuse

me…" He swiftly made a beeline towards an empty alleyway and
disapparated to another alleyway.
He ranted in his head for a good five minutes before he snapped his
bone back in place and vanish the chocolate mess on his robe. Just
as he was about to disapparate again, he was stopped by a hand
that tightened on his forearm.
He turned to give the person a good tongue lashing, but startled in

surprise.
"… What are you doing in a place like this, Death?" He hissed
softly at the cloaked figure.
" Isn't this a good opportunity to bring Him into this world?" It
released his arm but remained in his personal space. Death had no
idea of it by the way. It would usually step into people's personal
bubble and act as if it's the norm.
" W-what? Are you crazy!? I'm fifteen for Merlin's sake." He
removed his spectacle and proceeded to rub the bridge of his nose
in exasperation. He just wanted to drink his favorite drink in peace,
was that so hard?
Death ignored him and snapped Its fingers. His school robe was
replaced by an elegant dark red robe with black lining whilst his not-
shoes were changed into proper covered shoes, much to his
chagrin. The changes led to his butterflies fluttering away.
" What the bloody hell are you doing…?" He gritted out slowly.
" The pub's just up ahead." It stated and pushed its Master out into
the open.
Marcaunon looked up towards the sign; Drinkzard. What kind of

name is that? These wizards have no idea how to name their stores,
or books, or schools, or… anything actually.
He sighed and was just about to place his spectacles back in place
when it was snatched by Death's long digits. It gave him that bloody
'This-spectacles-is-ugly' Look which he bristled at, highly insulted.
He sighed -he's been doing that a lot recently- once more and
walked into the pub with his head held high.
Most of the occupants were purebloods by the looks of it. He

scanned his surroundings and made his way towards one of the
open stools.
"What can I get for you, sir?" The barman asked politely.
"Swott Malt and coke, single tall." The barman lifted an elegant brow
but went to prepare his drink.
He leaned against the counter and clenched his wand subtly. Just as
he was about to search for a strong wizard, a man with messy brown
hair and hazel eyes sat beside him. He was well-build and looked to
be around his early thirties, but with wizards it was hard to confirm.
They do age slower than Parasites.
The man ordered a glass of firewhisky and turned to Marcaunon.
"You look rather young to be drinking." The man spoke with a deep
baritone.
Marcaunon arched a brow and took a sip of his drink before he

deemed it long enough to reply.
"A wizard's appearance doesn't match their true age sometimes." He

purred out.
"Good genes and magic you are blessed with." The man took a sip
before he continued. "May I ask for your name?"
"Is it not customary here to introduce one's self while inquiring the
identity of another?"
The man chuckled and smiled seductively at Marcaunon.
"Forgive my mannerism. Call me Charlie."
"A pleasure I'm sure. And you may call me Markos." Charlie took
Marcaunon hand before lightly kissing his knuckles.
"A… pleasure indeed." He gave Marcaunon a loop-side grin but

didn't release his hand. "Do you come here often?"
He smiled back politely and attempted to retrieve said hand from the
man. It didn't budge. Cooties!
"No. I have only heard of this place. They say it has a lot of
entertainment value."
"Indeed it has. I myself come here often for such."
"Oh? And what sort of entertainment do you… appreciate?"
Charlie swirled his drink around and took a sip.
"Would you care to find out?"
"Do you let anybody who comes here know?"
"Only the special ones." The man eyed his body. Marcaunon
shivered in disgust but Charloe seemed to think it otherwise as he
began to rub circles on Marcaunon's knuckle. He felt oddly violated
and self-conscious.
Their conversation -one sided flirting- continued for another hour or

so as Marcaunon drank at a constant pace. He was getting tired of
the man's not-so-subtle hints. After returning to his beloved bed at
Hogwarts, he was going to violently murder Death.
Charlie had waved to the barman, and received a key, before

ushering him upstairs. The room was of moderate size, with a door
leading towards the bathroom and a Queen sized bed. The room
was colored Gryffindor style and he wondered if this room was
especially for Charlie -he came to know that that man was a
Gryffindor - or the rooms are normally decorated in blinding red and
gold.
He excused himself and entered the bathroom. Death was

unsurprisingly waiting for him inside.
" Good to know that my Master knows how to get a bed

partner." It stated with a mock solemn air. "They grow up so fast."
"… Stop being absurdly sentimental… I don't think I can do

this." He leaned against the door and covered his face with his
hands.
" You can, Master. You were once a Gryffindor yourself."

He shakily stood up with his servant's help.
" Death… The hat wanted me in Slytherin…"
" Well, you ended up in Gryffindor anyway. So gather up your

scattered bravery and fight on."
He gave Death a weird out look and started to shake rather violently.
" Death?"
" Yes Master?"
" The ground's shaking."
" The ground is perfectly stable, unlike your legs."
" I can't do it! This is too much! I feel… no, I am going to faint!
This is overly repulsive! I'm gunna puke…"
" Pull yourself together, my Master, this experience does not

need to be a repeated occurrence." Death's voice was surprisingly
soft as it spoke.
" You are not the one getting someone's filthy meat-stick shove
up your arse, Death!" He almost shouted hysterically at the
omnipotent being. He covered his eyes with the heel of his hands in
anguish. "I have never attempted to find pleasure in anything
sexually related… after what had happened in the labs."
So much for keeping it cool. He had not had any sexual contact for
decades. Those scientists had made sure of that. Even his hand was
not well acquainted with his member. Even thinking about getting
penetrated made him shiver in fear .
" If a mortal's sex organ does penetrate my current body, the

object in question would drop off -quite literally- but if you
insist that I bend over and-"
" No, it's fine! I do not want or bloody need to have that image in
my mind, thank you very much."
Death sighed and shook its head.
" If you are quite finish, I have much work to be done. Mortals
won't stop dying just because I am taking a short break. If you'll
excuse me, Master…"
" Y-you're leaving!? You can't leave me here alone!" Marcaunon

grabbed Death's sleeve; like a child who wanted their parents to
stay.
" On the contraire, I do not wish to… be a spectator of your

bedding."
" You don't have to be so… crude. Forget it."
There was a silence before Death released a somewhat inpatient

sound from its throat.
" Well?"
" Uhm… It's… Just that…"
" Yes?"
" He won't cut open my pelvic area up just to squeeze my

rectum to him feel more pleasure will he?" He blurted out . "Or
cut off both my arms so I could do nothing but watch as he
forces metals and unidentified objects inside me will he? Or -"
" No Master. The person outside… He is not Them . He won't do

anything but impregnate you."
" Then… I will feel… good?" Marcaunon hated how meek he

sounded.
" It depends on your partner's skill -or lack thereof."

" On my partner? I thought you've never…"
" Of course I have, just not in this body, but I digress-"
" Now you've peaked my curiosity."
" You will experience pleasure or pain all by depending on your

partner's knowledge, past experience, age, and perhaps size." It
continued like it didn't get interrupted by its Master.
" I beg your pardon?" He blinked.
" For example, the person you chose as your partner is

somewhat young and supposedly -actually- straight."
" You won't know that for sure…"
" In fact, I do know the man waiting for you is straight. You're
the first man he'll have intercourse with. Anyway, there's a high
probability that it will bring slight discomfort."
" Perhaps I should wait for another-"
" You've had worst."
" I know alright! But I'm only reaching fifteen! Underage person
right here!"
" Technically you're 177, but never you mind, my Master. Sooner
or later you will have to face your fears. Not all at once, but one
at a time."
" Why do I have to be the one to carry the fetus anyway!?" Being
the one who fucks is better than being fucked. Even though he had
never had the chance of burying his member into anyone, he would
guess that being the one who does is better than being done.
Wait… Does that mean he's considered a virgin if he's straight?

" We have already gone through this before, Master." It started to
sound exasperated.
" Then please explain it to me once more because everything

has fled my mind."
"… The reason as to why you will need to be the carrier is

because after the body is prepared, you will be the one to put
the soul into said body. Since a piece of the same soul has been
with you for seventeen years, it would trust you to put it inside
a body made from your very own flesh and blood."
" I seriously doubt it, but fine! You have to stay with me and give
me moral support though!"
" As I previously said, I do not wish to witness my Master's

supposedly making of my future godson."
It turned around and disappeared without another word or sound.
" Traitor!" He cried out and ranted for a few minutes before
remembering that the man outside had already waited for at least
fifteen minutes.
" Nothing left but to do it… Perhaps I could demand -read; beg -
Death to obliviate me of this unpleasant experience afterwards."
He stepped into the room and was surprised to see that Charlie was
standing in a daze. Death must've known that he would be hysterical
and needed time to prepare. What a good servant It is!
Charlie soon snapped out from the state he was previously in and
leered at him. He gave a strained smile in return.
He was soon pulled towards a firm chest and kissed on the mouth
roughly. Marcaunon resisted the urge to gag and opened his mouth
to allow entrance into his cavern. Whilst the tongue eagerly mapped
his mouth, Charlie had pushed him backwards and he bounced onto
the bed.
A body was soon on top of him and hands began roaming his and he
shuddered in disgust, which earned a needy thrust from the man
above him. Marcaunon could feel the hazel eyed man's hard
covered length against his thigh and clenched his fists in an effort to
stop himself from throwing the body off of him.
At least Charlie wasn't into bondage.
The man withdraws his tongue and instead latched onto

Marcaunon's neck. His skin was crawling and he moaned in distress.
The hands were quick in stripping him bare of any clothing and he
felt powerless; a feeling that he had not felt for a very long time.
The mouth soon travelled lower and sucked on one of his nipples.
They were only hard due to the cold, unlike his limp manhood.
It was then pinched and pulled brutally and he arched at the

uncomfortable sensation. The man above him shrugged off his robe
and shirt before trailing down kisses until he arrived just above
Marcaunon pelvic area.
Marcaunon startled in surprise when he was turned onto his

stomach, and forced to bare his arse in the air. It was a mortifying
pose and he trembled in shame -which was mistaken for excitement
on Charlie's part.
His buttcheeks were kneaded and his legs spread apart. He allowed
this action to take place and buried his face into a pillow that was
conveniently placed in front of him.
He knew that he was a sight to see and subtly placed a pillow

underneath his hip to hide his flaccidness.
A finger was soon circling his entrance and he braced himself

mentally for what was to come. The digit was at least covered in
lubricant and he forced himself to remain relaxed, lest it would hurt
more if he resisted. He learnt that the hard way.
The finger was pushed forward, passing the tight ring of muscles. It
was joined by another, followed by another and soon they were
stretching him. He could feel tears gathering and blinked. They rolled
down his flushed cheeks and he moaned unexpectedly when a
finger brushed against his prostate.
"You like that?" Charlie's voice was rough from lust.
He didn't deem it worthy of a reply and clenched his muscles when

the bundle of nerves was pushed again. He felt himself growing
hard, much to his mortification, and quickly bit his lip to stop any
needy noises from being heard.
The man above him chuckled and muttered about him being cute
before pulling his fingers out. A sound of belt un-buckling was heard
before a hot and hard flesh was pressed onto his entrance. His grip
on the pillows tightened.
Charlie entered his body slowly and his mouth opened into a silent
scream. He felt fully stretched and his breathe came out as short
pants. The man behind him groaned in satisfaction and moved
without waiting for Marcaunon to adjust.
His thrusts were forcefully hard, going deep and fast. Marcaunon felt
his insides were on fire. Didn't Death say he would feel good !?
Just as suddenly, he cried out when his prostrate was pressed on.
"Ahh..!" It was painful yet his body was trembling with pleasure. He
was confused and frustrated. His body's reaction was unexpected
and he lay there panting with need.
The brutal pace was continued and the man groaned together with
him.
The feeling of repulsion could be identified from the back of his mind
and he was brought back to how the scientist would jeer and call him
names when his body reacted to such an act back then.
He had always shied from human contact, and now he was even
going as far as to lay naked underneath a stranger just so he could
create a child. It was just his luck that his body was experimented on
and made into something that could get impregnate, even though he
was male.
The pace was getting faster and some of his saliva had leaked out of
his mouth when he mewled and whimper.
"You like that? You little slut…" The man whispered and licked the
shell of his ear. "M-moan louder… for me… will you?" Each word
was said with a hard thrust, and Marcaunon cried at the intense
feeling building at his lower regions.
Charlie soon grabbed Marcaunon's manhood and began pumping it.

Not long, he came at the double sensation and clamped on the dick
inside of him, his back arching like a bow.
Charlie came inside and fell on top of him. They both lay panting in
exhaustion. The man removed his limp member and Marcaunon
grimaced at the feeling. His thighs felt sticky and uncomfortable, but
he was too tired and resigned to move.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, just before he was
turned onto his back. The hazel eyed man kissed him on his lips
once more and before he knew it, he felt blackness invade his vision
and fell into unconscious.
Charlie recovered soon after and groaned in satisfaction when his

muscles stretched in pleasure. He felt pleased, before remembering
that he had made a reservation at a fine dining restaurant for his
marriage anniversary with his wife.
He checked the time, cursed softly and began to fumble for his
clothes.
The hazel eyed man looked towards his one night stand's features
and couldn't help but stare entranced at the sight. The young man
had a beautiful face, and he looked innocent when he was asleep.
His body was petite, but covered with lean muscles. Charlie could
estimate that the young man was around 165cm. Quite short for
someone whom he assumed to be around mid-twenties.
His hair had spread out on the pillow like a halo, dark lashes
brushing over flushed cheeks; from their earlier activity, and those
irresistible soft lips that parted as the young man breath evenly. Not
to forget how pale his bed partner's skin was. It was easy to put
marks on his chest and neck.
There was an urge to kiss and continue ravaging his one night
bedmate, but he resisted.
Charlie shook his head and groaned when he felt his member half-
hardening in remembrance at being buried balls-deep within that
delectable arse. He quickly donned on his attire and made sure there
were no signs that could suspected him of committing fidelity.
He took out his wand and pointed it at the young man's head.
"You were a good lay, but my wife would kill me if she were to find
out what happened between us. No hard feelings eh? Obliviate ."
The man returned his wand into his holster and bent down to steal
one last kiss (he couldn't resist!) from the young man before
disappearing through the door.
Marcaunon woke up at the feeling of his arse throbbing and he

shuffled through his memories for an explanation. He bolted up, only
to yelp and fall back down, when he remembered what had occurred
in this very bed and groaned.
He closed his eyes and began creating an orb from the memory and
noticed a foreign magic in his mind. He looked at it for a while and
gritted his teeth in rage. The nerve of that man to try and obliviate
him! He had mixed feelings about not losing his memories but
continued to curse the man to hell and back.
He would keep this memory just to find the man and black mail him
with it, if he has a family that is. Bloody jerk.
He expelled the foreign magic and continued his task of locking the
memory away to the deepest part of his mind. After much intense
concentration, he opened his eyes and noticed that his vision was
blurred by tears.
Marcaunon didn't bother to hold them back and covered his mouth
as a choked sobbed broke out. He felt disgusted with himself. He felt
dirty and used. He felt like he had betrayed himself. Not wanting to
make himself depressed, he changed his thought process (hooray
for occlumency).
"… Wait a minute… How am I supposed to continue with school

when I'm pregnant…?" The scarlet eyed teen grabbed a fistful of hair
and pulled. How could he forget such an important detail!?
1959
Year: 4 5
The familiar sound of an owl pecking a window was heard and a

cocooned figure on top a bed groaned. A mop of messy black bed
hair was first to appear before a face, followed by arms that threw
the quilt off of him.
Marcaunon groaned once again when his vision was filled with bright
rays of sunshine. It was too bloody early -for him- to wake up when
he wasn't in school. He turned to glare at the owl and scowled when
it continued to peck without mercy on his window glass. Mrs. Cole
would throw a fit if it broke.
"Am commin' you damn bird." He mumbled venomously and crawled

out of bed sluggishly.
He opened the window and untied the letter that was on the bird.
Mr. M. Gaunt
Room 27
Wool's Orphanage
There was a Hogwarts emblem on it and Marcaunon opened the

envelope with care.
Dear Mr. Gaunt;
We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to be one
of the Fifth year Prefects for the House of Hufflepuff. Your school
record shows that you have exhibited quick-thinking in stressful
situations, the ability to lead others, and the hard-working quality that
Hufflepuffs have long been lauded for.
We are certain that you will continue to be a model for your peers
and take your new responsibilities seriously. Enclosed please find
your Prefect's badge, which should be worn on your school robes at
all times. Congratulations.
Sincerely,
Herbert Beery
Head of Hufflepuff House
He turned the envelope around and a badge fell from within. His lips
twitch upwards before pushing the owl out of his window. It hooted in
protest but flew off anyway. It seemed that his tutoring and polite act
did help him achieve something after all.
He rubbed his still growing baby bump and the fetus within him
kicked at the rubbing hand. He smiled fondly and chuckled. Ever
since he had place the soul inside, it had responded with kicks when
he touched his baby bump.
It seemed that He was impatient with being stuck inside. Marcaunon

kind of pitied Him for being conscious even though He had yet been
born. Death had just waved it off as a miscalculation. He didn't trust
words such as error or miscalculation or side effects from Death's
mouth.
1960
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 5
He was the only one who sat in a relaxed manner in the Dining-
turned-exam-hall. His party of eight were in front of him in rows, yet
he could clearly see them sitting stiff back whilst sweating. The other
houses that were seated in other rows were showing nervous habits
such as nail biting or quill chewing. He shook his head softly and
waited for the parchments to appear.
He subtly rubbed his hidden baby bump (covered by layers and

layers upon layers of glamour) and hoped that Death would at least
give him a back and feet rub afterwards. His bloody feet were killing
him. How did Molly Weasley stand being pregnant seven times, he
will never know.
His respect for women had tripled ever since his pregnancy. Hecate
bless their souls.
One of the Wizarding Examinations Authority announced the
beginning of the O. exam before the parchments magically appear -
quite literally- on their desks. He sensed an anti-cheating spell all
over his given quill, desk, chair, and parchments. Suspicious
much…?
He read through the whole list of questions before writing the

answers non-stop. He had learnt how to instant memorize the written
information on parchments due to Death's huge stack of paperwork.
An administrator spotted his non-stop writing and made her way to
stand behind him to see if he was cheating in any way possible.
He ignored the worker and continued. He was done in ten minutes

and placed his quill down. The worker looked at him with barely
concealed amazement and he handed her his parchments. She
looked through it as he made his way out of the hall.
Most of the Ravenclaws were in denial and he could see without

even looking into their minds that they think he wrote random
answers. He closed the doors behind him and made his way towards
his dorm. Death will have to seriously rub his feet, it really was killing
him.
The two weeks of continuous O. exams were finished in a similar

fashion with him being done within ten minutes when they were
tested on theory, whilst he practically breezed through practicals
without a hitch.
1960
Year: 5 6
Once again, he was interrupted by the familiar sound of an owl's

beak pecking glass. His hormones were already messed up and he
didn't hesitate to open the window and force the bird inside with his
magic. It squawked in fright but he paid it no mind.
He untangled from his quilt and willed the letter over to him. Just as
his letter reached his person, his magic lashed towards the bird. This
resulted in an explosion of confetti…
The bird exploded like a balloon which led to its blood splattering
across the walls, window, door, wardrobe and bed. Marcaunon
himself was safe from the mess due to his magic shielding him. He
cursed his untamable hormones that were affecting his magic and
moods. Even Death had stayed far away from him when he had
started sobbing or shouting at random moments.
Not to mention the bloody cravings. He had once demanded Death

to bring him some cheese flavored ice-cream. It wasn't so bad if he
didn't add in salmon and durian in it as well. He didn't even want to
know how his taste buds had survived such a flavor and just enjoyed
the taste.
He looked at the letter in his hand.
Mr. M. Gaunt
Room 27
Wool's Orphanage
He opened it with a scowl. Stupid letters keeps on reminding that

he's still in a bloody orphanage. Bloody letter. Bloody school. Damn
everything to hell.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS
Passing Grades:
Outstanding [O]
Exceeds Expectations [E]
Acceptable [A]
Failing Grades:
Poor [P]
Dreadful [D]
Troll [T]
Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt has achieved the following O. :
Ancient Runes - O
Arithmancy - O
Astronomy - O
Care of Magical Creatures - O
Charms - O
Defense Against the Dark Arts - O
Divination - Not Taken
Herbology - O
History of Magic - O
Muggle Studies - Not Taken
Potions - O
Transfiguration - O
Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin First class, Grand Sorc, Chf Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
He banished his O.W.L.S result inside his trunk and stretched. He

was satisfied with his results and if he were to achieve lower, he
would die of humiliation. Perhaps he should get some brunch… after
cleaning up his room of course.
1 st September 1960
Location: King Cross Station Platform 9¾
Year: 6
The day of finally getting out of that wretched orphanage has come.
Marcaunon, with his miniature trunk inside his pocket, Death in Black
Mamba form wrapped around his body underneath his robe, and
butterflies inside his hair, made his way towards the Hogwarts
Express.
He was trying his damned hardest to walk elegantly like usual, but
his swollen ankles were giving him a hard time. It was oh so
tempting to just waddle his way through the crowd, but he persisted.
He wished that he could give birth in nine months, but alas male
pregnancies take longer. His trick with floating a millimeter above
ground doesn't work as his magic was being a bitch. If he were to
cast Lumos, it would have probably blinded anyone near him. He
would not risk himself getting blown away just because of swollen
bloody ankles.
His respect for women had gone up so high. If he became Minister,

he would make a rule about pregnant people being respected as
gods.
It was lucky he came earlier than necessary. Most of the

compartments were empty and he made his way towards the
nearest. Just as he sat down -oh his ankles were crying in joy- the
door slid open, and much to his exasperation; it was the former third
year seeker -now seventh year captain.
"Gaunt." The captain scowled.
*"Snuggerud. To what do I owe this displeasure?" He drawled with a

sneer. Unlike his other house mates, the captain was always
suspicious of him.
"You're in the wrong compartment. This is mine."
"Perhaps you are the one mistaken. I do not see your name on the
door or any of these seats."
"I have always sat here since first year. Do not think yourself as
somebody important enough to steal another's compartment."
"It matters not to me if you were born in this very compartment itself."
Snuggerud glowered at him whilst Marcaunon remained his serene

self. The captain took a menacing step forward but was stopped
when they heard voices coming towards them.
"There there! I spotted Marc, guys!" He recognized the voice as his

fellow year mate, Risa Edeson.
She made a beeline towards him with all her luggage glory. She
pushed the captain out of the way and sat beside him with a grin.
They were soon joined by his other year mates within Hufflepuff.
"What's Snuggerud doing here?" Walker questioned just as he sat

down.
"No idea. He was just leaving, wasn't he?" Marcaunon smiled at said
person.
Snuggerus glared hatefully at him before he left, but not before

slamming the door close. They winced at the loud sound but ignored
him nonetheless; used to his temper tantrums around Marcaunon.
"Guess what!? Promona got selected to be prefect." Mia cheered.

Sprout blushed and thanked them when they offered her
congratulations.
"I would bet a galleon that Marc's the male prefect for Hufflepuff."
Her twin chirped.
They turned towards him and he nodded. They congratulated him

and demanded to see his results. He took out his parchment and
hand it towards Walker.
"W-w-w-what the! Merlin's beard!" Walker exclaimed.
"Hmm? What's wrong?" McQuillen asked in confusion.
Walker ignored the question and passed the parchment over.

McQuillen's eyes widen in shock before the parchment was
snatched by the twins. They gasp in surprise and soon his group had
seen his results.
"How in Merlin's left testicles did you achieve 10 O's!?" The twins
exclaimed in shock.
He shrugged his shoulders. It would be weird if a bushy know-it-all

could achieve such a result and he could not.
They all exchanged results whilst he stared outside the window.
Sprout soon informed him that they were needed to sit in the
prefect's compartment to be informed of their duties, and proceeded
to drag him. His ankles were once again abused and he groaned at
the feeling.
"Merlin Marc, did you gain weight?" The slightly plump teenager
asked him as she continued to drag him.
"… You think I'm fat!?" He screeched. "I'm not fat! I'm a growing boy!
This is muscles I tell you, muscles!"
Oh damn his hormones!
"Sorry, I'm just tired."
She looked at him in worry but accepted his pathetic reason of an

excuse.
He would have to inform the Quidditch team that he would have to

take the year off. How could he possible fly with his condition? It
seem like the puffs would have to pull their own weight since he
won't be there to knock the opponents down their brooms.
Marcaunon wiggled and rolled around in bed, trying and failing to

find a comfortable position. Finally after half an hour of turning, he
gave up and padded towards the common room. He sat himself
upon his favorite deep brown armchair near the fireplace and sighed
to himself.
Lost in thoughts, he startled when a person sat on a chair opposite

of him. They stared at one another (the teen with a smile) before
Marcaunon decided to break the silence.
"Why are you not in bed?"
"Couldn't sleep. I thought relaxing in the common room would do me

good. And you?" Marcaunon ignored the question in favor of
scrutinizing the teen.
The teen has a healthy head of blond hair, just reaching his chin,
with narrowed brown eyes. His aristocratic face belonged to the
many pureblood children - high cheek bones, angular face, and
straight nose. A good looking lad, but could never compare to the
Malfoys or the Blacks.
Marcaunon quickly flipped his mental notebook for the senior's
name, but could only come up with his family name. He was not
proud to admit that he had forgotten due to the boy's unnoticed
presence.
Deciding that it would be rude to stay silent any longer, Marcaunon

gave a lazy and tired upward tilt of his lips. A barely there smile, but
a smile nonetheless.
"Just restless. I'm sure it'll pass. Would you like something to drink,
Macmillan?"
The blonde tilted his head to the side in curiosity, but nodded with a
confused grin.
"Warm milk…?"
"Whisper."
A pop could be heard, startling the senior. They both turned towards
the House-elf.
"Will you fetch us both a glass of warm milk please?" Marcaunon

asked politely.
The elf, Whisper, stared wide eye at the both of them -perhaps
wondering why they were up at twilight but not daring to ask- whilst
nodding fervently. She popped away for only a few seconds before
returning with two glasses of milk. It floated to their respective hands.
"Is Young Master Marcaunon sir bes wanting anything else?"
"That will be all, thank you." The elf squeaked and blushed heavily
under Marcaunon's bright smile of gratitude before popping away
once more.
"We could call House Elves?" Macmillan whispered softly to himself

in bewilderment.
"Technically no."
"Huh?" Marcaunon inward snorted. He calls himself a pureblood? At

least say Pardon or something.
"You need to build a rapport before you could ask anything of them."
"Really? I never knew that."
"Most don't even know that it was House Elves whom made our
food."
They both sipped their respective drinks as they continued to

converse softly. Marcaunon's smile never dimming whilst the boy
continued to beam as he talked rapidly. Not much later, Macmillan
excused himself since he was getting tired. They both said their
good nights and Marcaunon stared at the blonde's retreating
silhouette.
"Whisper."
The unique sound of an elf popping was heard as she bowed to him
and asked if he needed anything.
"Please bring me a jar of pickles, a bowl of melted chocolate,

cheese, and chili sauce."
Whisper looked at him oddly but complied. He thanked her and

dipped a pickle into each respective three bowls and ate with gusto.
His cravings have really turned weird.
31 st December 1960
Location: Dormus Mortem
Year: 6
Marcaunon sat in his favorite cushioned throne that looked quite
similar to the Game of Throne. He had this throne made into an
exact replica actually. He hummed to himself as he signed yet
another parchment inside the Deathfile.
Paperwork was going to be the death of him. Just as he thought

about the ways to torture his servant, he stiffened at the feeling of his
abdomen muscles contract and water bag burst. He felt his thighs
and legs downed in water and the pain was quick to make him
grimace.
As he held out a finger, one of his butterflies landed on it and he

whispered to it. It soon disappeared in a flicker of blue light.
He groaned and tried to stand up, only to fall back on his throne. A
cold feeling passed through the room and within a second, Death
appeared in all Its cloaked-like glory.
"Master, you called?" It bowed.
"Y-yess. I think I'm in labor."
"… We haven't thought about how to bring the baby out… Have
we?"
"No you idiot! Are you that dumb!?" He gritted his teeth and counted
backwards from ten to calm himself down. It wasn't Death's fault that
his mood just went down the drain.
Death understood his concerns and shook Its head when Marcaunon
shot him an apologetic look. It swept the smaller male into Its arms
and glided towards their chamber. It placed Its Master onto the bed
and helped Its Master to strip.
"We didn't… think this… through… did we?" Marcaunon panted as

another wave of contraction came.
"I'm afraid not, Master. I'm not an expert in bringing life."

"Any of your minions… have experience… in childbirth?"
"… They are unable to reproduce."
"Fucking great!" He moaned in pain whilst shooting Death another

death glare. "Do something! It bloody hurts! Oh god! How do women
do this!? Madness I tell you."
Death covered Its Master with some blankets before disappearing.

The butterflies surrounding the bed were fluttering their wings in an
almost nervous gesture as they waited for Death to reappear.
Not another moment had passed before Death appeared with a

freaked out healer under Its arm.
Marcaunon groaned and covered his face. He was sweating and he

wanted the bloody baby out of him. "I don't care anymore! Get it out
already!"
The healer took notice of the large baby bump and struggled to get
herself free from Death's grip. She had forgotten that she had been
kidnapped and ran towards Marcaunon. A true healer.
"W-what..? I've never heard of a male being pregnant before!" The

healer cried in shock, but was quick to pull her wand out to cast
some diagnosis spell on him.
She took out a trunk from within her robe and brought out the
required equipment and potions in case she would need to cut him
open.
"Argh! Dammit… Please be patient you damn baby…" He cried out

as another contraction hit him. "Fucking demon I tell you! I'll kill him
once he's out! Ah!"
Death was soon by his other side and held his hand inside Its much
bigger one. It wiped the sweat that was accumulating at
Marcaunon's forehead whilst the healer tried to figure out how to get
the baby out without endangering the mother's (or father's) life.
"Well?" Death questioned when It felt Its Master squeeze Its hand
tightly.
"I-I… I have to cut him open. There's no way out since he doesn't
have a vagina-"
She was interrupted as he shouted.
"Do it then! Just hurry the fuck up!" A nearby lamp has burst when
his magic lashed out, much to the healer's horror. She knew that
only strong mothers could use or produce accidental magic when
they were in the process of giving birth. She idly wondered if the
cloaked male was the patient's husband.
"M-may I ask how old you are?" She asked suddenly when she
paused at his face. He groaned and glared at her.
She startled back when she saw how his eyes glowed bright crimson
in anger.
"Are you seriously intending to delay getting this devil out just to ask
me my bloody age…?" Marcaunon gritted out in barely contain rage.
"O-of course not, s-sir! I'll have to put you to sleep-"
"No. You may numb the area where you will be cutting." He
interrupted and prompted her to do as such as he scowled at the
feeling of Him kicking to get out. Fucking impatient little shite.
The healer started shooting spell after spell and soon he could see
himself being cut open. It took longer than he thought, but she was
able to carefully bring the bloodied baby out of his body whilst
ensuring that he did not bleed to his death -not that he would.
Soon the room was filled with soft gasping of breath as He struggled
to clear his lungs. The healer examined the bundle in her arms and
gave an odd sound from the back of her throat.
"Why isn't he crying…?" She whispered to herself, but everyone

heard.
Marcaunon could see the babe trying hard to see through his blurry
blue eyes.
He nodded towards Death and soon, Death's magic was casted to

Him. The eyes were soon cleared and the babe took in the scene of
Marcaunon getting his incision healed whilst Death murmured softly
in Its Master's ear.
"There! All done… Now we have to inform and register-"
Death cut her off by knocking her out.
"At least do it after leaving the room." Marcaunon murmured softly as

he held his son in his arms. The babe was looking around with wide
eyes, as if not believing that he was indeed finally free.
"Forgive me, Master." It bowed in apology and Marcaunon had to

resist the urge of rubbing his throbbing temples, lest he drop his son.
"I have removed her memory of this experience."
One of the butterflies landed on the unconscious healer and both

disappeared after a second.
"Forget it. Now then… Have you prepared all the necessary
paperwork required for home-birth?"
The babe turned to look at his mother (or father) whilst Marcaunon
spoke. He felt his little one's gaze and smiled at the small newborn in
his arms.
"Hello there little one." He whispered softly. The babe gargled a

greeting and he chuckled.
Was this how a mother felt for their child? Happiness, pride,
protectiveness…? Marcaunon was afraid of damaging such a small
being, and was slightly terrified of accidently breaking the little one's
neck. His little boy was tiny, soft, pruney and pinkish… but he was
perfect in Marcaunon's eyes.
"Yes Master. Everything is in your office."
"Good work. And write a letter to Hogwarts that I will be unable to

attend for a week or so."
"Of course, Master."
"Now… How am I supposed to take care of my little one when I still

have a year left of school?" He tilted his head and scowled. "Any of
your minions know how to take care of newborns?"
"They are worse than I am, Master."
"… Merlin. I have no choice but to let you handle him huh…?."
Marcaunon kissed his son's chubby cheeks. Morgana, he is just too
cute with all those baby fat!
"Master's faith in me is duly noted."
"Oh hush you. Isn't Chaos beautiful?"
"Chaos…?"
"You can't expect me to call him by his full name, Marchosias, all the
time would you?"
"Then why did you give him such a long name?" It deadpanned.
Marcaunon grinned. "Family tradition."
"Ah yes… To answer your previous question, he's wrinkly and

weirdly colored."
Marcaunon stared drily at Death whilst the newly named Marchosias
gargled and spat incoherent words at the unintentional insult he
received.
March 1961
A few months has passed since Tom Marvolo Riddle, now known as
Marchosias, was brought into this world. He much prefer his current
name. He shivered as he remembered the time when he was stuck
inside his mother's… father's… womb. It was dark, cramped and
made him develop a major case of claustrophobia. Other than his
newly named weakness, his parent was a cause of bewilderment.
How did a male get pregnant anyway? Did a Severus invent a male
pregnancy potion before he died?
He had first believed that his father was the cloaked figure on first
glance, but he was sorely mistaken when the hooded male called his
mother his Master. Was his mother a Dark Lord?
Did he become one after his -Voldemort- death?
Judging from his mother's young appearance and how he was still a
Hogwarts student -since mother is currently in Hogwarts at the
moment - Marchosias concluded that he was from the wedlock. He
sincerely hoped that his current mother didn't dose his current father
with love potions. He would have to kill them if that was the case.
He had yet known his family name (and middle), but he assumed
that he was taking on his father's. The cloaked man's name was still
unknown to him as well. He hated being clueless.
He was not really neglected, but the cloaked man was awkward with
him. He had a lot of time to think of how he had actually come into
this world. He remembered his years clearly until his demise (he still
grimaced at the thought of it) from the hands of Potter brat, and still
in denial at how someone so young could defeat him.
The thought of Potter brought out his anger and he was ashamed to
say that he could not control the tears of rage. Damn baby body!
Perhaps he went through the process of being reincarnated, but

since he was not a whole soul, he remembered his past life. Weird,
but he was still in shock to come up with a proper theory.
After a few weeks, he became awfully confused over the date. He

had seen the calendar when his mysterious caretaker had brought
him into his mother's office when said caretaker wanted to do some
paperwork whilst feeding him.
It was 1961. He wondered if he had travelled back in time or if he

was in another dimension altogether. The theories were endless. He
made a mental note to research alternate universes as well as Time
Travel and groaned when he felt his stomach grumbling. Where was
his caretaker anyway?
He heard the floo and assumed that his caretaker had returned from
his daily trip to work. The door to his nursery was silently opened
and his eyes focused on his mother's lithe form. He was dressed in
his school robes, but what Marchosias wondered was the color of his
tie indicated that he was from Hufflepuff. He knew that his mother
didn't care about people in general since his first thought on solving
a problem was to get rid of said problem. That means killing.
He was kind of glad that he's related to someone whom doesn't

condemn on killing.
Marchosias had only known him for a week but was already fond of
his -blood thirsty- mother.
"Ah. You're awake." And his mother always spoke to him as if he

were talking to an adult. It made him wonder at times if he knew that
Marchosias understood him. Also, the hissing accent of his mother
made him wonder if Marcaunon knew parseltongue. It was highly
arousing if he weren't in the body of a baby. "I couldn't find where
your temporary caretaker is… So I assumed he took you out on a
walk or something…"
He saw the air surrounding his mother rippled with power, much to
his amazement. He always appreciates power. Judging by how
much his mother has, he anticipated his new body to be just as
powerful, if not more.
"But that dunderhead actually left my little boy alone. In a house full
of strangers . Alone." What his mother didn't know was that he
already knew that those so called strangers were Muggle prisoners
brought by the cloaked man. He even had the pleasure of witnessing
the cloaked figure dragging a muggle by a leash, very much like a
dog.
The air cleared just as suddenly and he released a disappointed

sigh. "Well never mind. Mort has always been awkward."
Mort? His caretaker was named after death? That was creepy even
for him. He loathes death and would do anything to escape the
concept entirely.
"I have the week off since its Holy Week. Perhaps I could tell you a
story to pass time." His mother picked him up and cradled
Marchosias to his chest. "Let's move to my office, little Chaos."
His nickname was something that he liked as well -excluding being

called little . If he were to aim to become a Dark Lord once more, he
would name himself Lord Chaos. Doesn't that just sound devious?
But before that, he would have to find out if Lord Voldemort exists or
if his birth was delayed. Oh and kill Harry Potter after that brat was
born. This time he would strangle the child using Muggle means.
They made their way towards his mother's office and settled on a
sword throne. It was amazing, with real made goblin swords framing
said chair. Mort had always sat in this very seat together with him
whilst doing a mountain of paperwork, so he had time to scrutinize
the swords. He wondered what occupation his mother and caretaker
are to be doing stacks of paperwork. Daily.
"Hmmm… How about mummy's school?" Actually, most people

would let their children know how their parents met. Or who their
other parent is.
"When Dumbiedork came to my orphanage at the year 1955, I was

sceptic when he revealed himself as a Professor -I mean, who wears
clothing that bright and mismatched? I thought that he had wanted to
drag me into the looney bin. He explained and answered all my
questions patiently, and I was excited by the prospect that Magic
was real."
Yes he remembered when the Transfiguration professor came as

well. Even if he loathes that old fool, he could respect the power
Albus has.
If only Albus was not a Muggle-loving simpleton, with his merry band
of Weasels. The family was massive and if you killed one, another
would appear as a replacement. They're endless. Like cockroaches.
Annoying insects.
"I fell in love with Hogwarts as soon as I lay eyes upon her. She was
magnificent and I'm proud of calling her my first home." His mother
gave an upward tilt of his lips in remembrance. "I'm sure you would
love her as well.
Marchosias almost scowled when he saw Marcaunon smile. He

would be sure to scare off any potential lovers that crowd his mother
-oh he so love making grown men cry.
Marcaunon was his, and nobody could change that.
Again he questioned from which Dark Family he came from… He

looked up at his mother and squinted his eyes. Perhaps he could
see if there's any Black or Lestrange blood inside his mother -the
two were rumored to be insane just like Marcaunon.
What he saw almost made him reel back in shock. His mother
looked like a replica of his teenage self. He was sure that he was the
last of the Gaunts, apart from his uncle in this year. Sure his mother
had softer and a much more feminine touch to his features, but they
could pass off as twins.
Perhaps this really was an alternate universe… He needed to find

out their Family name! How he wished he could talk. But alas, he
gargled in frustration. He hated being a baby. They were dependent
and he was ashamed at having his diapers changed.
Once he grew older, he would definitely research and try to invent an

enchanted diaper that could automatically remove body waste by
itself.
"Are you hungry, little one? It is indeed past your lunch time…"
Marcaunon rose from his seat and made his way towards the
kitchen. "I am so going to hang Mort by his toes. Does he starve my
son or what?"
Marchosias heard his mother's grumbling and snorted -still having a

hard time controlling his outwardly body. His caretaker had never
once missed his feeding or changing time. He was not sure if all
mothers were like this, but he could make an exception for
Marcaunon from his ' hate-all-humanity' list. And perhaps Mort as
well, even if Marchosias hated that cloaked-bastard's name.
December 1961
Year: 7 (18 years old)
"Zero."
Marcaunon looked up from his paperwork as Death sauntered into
his study with a curious looking Chaos in Its arms. His son had
grown bigger whilst he was in Hogwarts. He wondered if Chaos had
already started saying words.
He took note that Death was using the gloves that prevent him from
rotting anything he touched… luckily.
Death had once lectured him on the reason as to why It had always
remained in Its realm. Anything Death touched would literally rot or
die within a few hours. To put the insanely long lectured into a brief
summary, Death's flesh has too much "Death Magic" and it would
either make cells grow older thus rotting them, or life force being
drained. In theory, Death could take a person life force, and implant it
into another if he so wish to. Of course It took no heed and was too
lazy to test that out.
"Mm?" He grunted distractedly.
"A big, bloodied, zero." It repeated slowly.
" Hmm.." Marcaunon continued to sign the Deathfiles

absentmindedly. It would be Chaos's birthday soon… What should
he buy?
"Master!"
"Yess?" He arched a brow in question.
"What is this!?" It slammed a parchment in front of him and onto his

documents.
He scanned the parchment and deadpanned at Death.
"My test."
"And pray tell WHY you scored ZERO for something as basic as
this? Did the grey matter your call your brain finally lose all its cells!?
Have your intelligence that you so boast about left you hanging!?"
He noticed his son was looking at him with disapproving ruby eyes
and he felt a twitch at his brow. At least this wasn't his N.E.W.T's!
"Of course not. I'm just too lazy to show my genius."
"… This is unacceptable, Master!"
"I am a busy person, Mort. With people dropping dead every minute
my paperwork increases, thus resulting in my lack of sleep. How was
I supposed to know that they were going to have a surprise mock
test when I was dead to the world?" Yess he so love making death
jokes.
"Then stop delaying the inevitable. The paperwork won't disappear

just because you pretend it doesn't exist!"
"I'm not delaying it. Just prolonging…"
"That's the same thing, Master!"
Marcaunon sighed. He snatched his son from Death's arms and

kissed the baby's frowning brow. His little Chaos was just too cute!
"Master… Even if you are too lazy to show your genius -as you so
eloquently put it- you should at least make an effort to pass; even if
it's minimal! A zero in Ancient Runes when you practically build
wards based on them…"
"Actually, I'm more of a practical than theoretical kind of guy."
"… I will not have a Master that flunks his test due to paperwork.
Manage your time properly!"
"Then perhaps you should stop delivering them to me when I am in

school."
Death rubbed its temples and sighed in defeat. It turned and left,
cloak billowing behind It in an eerily similar fashion to one of his
previous Potion Professor. He would never admit to Death that he
thought It cute for throwing such a tantrum. Perhaps he should try
destroying the Deathfiles just to aggravate It.
He snorted and flicked his wrist to close the double doors of his
study.
"I pity Mort for having to put up with me sometimes." He whispered

under his breath, not noticing that the baby in his arms nod solemnly
in agreement; ruby eyes filled with comprehension in Death's
departing direction.
June 1962
Location: Hogwarts
Year: 7
The seventh years were all seated in the hall, the air much tenser
than when they were taking their O.W.L's. Some were biting their
quill as they try to recall the materials whilst others look extremely
pale and ready to faint. Nobody made any sounds apart from the
occasionally groans of frustration or gaging sounds; as if they were
going to puke at any given moment.
Marcaunon hid a grin behind his hand. Whilst others were waiting for
the administrators, he was thinking of home. This was the last paper
before they could return to their families and he couldn't wait to hug
his beloved son.
His little Chaos had said his first words, from what his butterflies had
relayed. They denied him the knowledge of what exactly was his
son's first word, but he was happy nonetheless. He hoped that it was
Mama or something similar, but he squashed it down.
He knew that he was not always with his son due to school, and if
Chaos was a normal baby, he would have already forgotten
Marcaunon.
The double doors slammed open and most of the students flinch at
how loud it was. The administrators strode in and began casting anti-
cheating spells on them. He could taste how the air turned thicker
with nerves.
A few more minutes passed in silence before an administrator flicked

his wand and a parchment appeared on their table. That was their
cue to begin and Marcaunon scanned through it.
The questions were indeed difficult for your average seventh year,
but to him it was as if taking chocolate from a baby.
He grabbed his quill and began scribbling the answers in a fast pace.
He wanted to see his son -and Death as well, but he won't admit
that- as soon as possible. As usual, an administrator would stand
behind him since he didn't look to be struggling, but breezing through
as if he had an answer sheet next to him.
He placed his quill down and scanned through the parchment to

check for any errors or mistakes. After he confirmed that the answers
were all indeed correct, he handed it to the administrator behind him
and stood up. Many heads turned towards him but he ignored them
and sauntered out of the hall and towards his dorm.
It was time to grab his trunk and apparate back home.
-Line Break-
August 1962
Location: Dungeons underneath Dormus Mortem
Year: Graduated
"I want Ice cream." Marcaunon suddenly stated whilst he watched

Death poke a few prisoners with Its scythe. In his arms was a toddler
biting on a teething ring that was charmed to remain cool.
"I'm sure that your cravings have disappeared once that brat of yours
has entered our lives ." It replied without turning to look when said
brat made a scoffing sound.
"I have not had Ice Cream in ages." Marcaunon turned to head
towards the exit of the dungeon. The prisoners behind him begged to
be released but they were ignored as per usual. Death trailed behind
him after locking the dungeon doors. "Let's go to Florean's Parlor."
Death sighed and transformed into his black mamba form, much to
Chaos's shock. They had never left the house since Marcaunon was
busy with paperwork whilst Death was busy reaping. Death slid onto
his Master's shoulders and rested its head atop of Chaos's.
The toddler didn't show signs of protest but petted the entity with his
chubby fingers. Without warning or turning, Marcaunon apparated
silently in mid-step, only to appear at Leaky Cauldron to continue
walking as if it was a natural occurrence.
Many of the occupants in the pub stared at him in awed shock before
changing to horror once they noticed a snake wrapped nicely around
his shoulders and neck. A black mamba was easy to recognize and
the species was indeed highly venomous, so he didn't blame them if
the people around him took a step back to get out of range.
His rose-tinted glasses glinted in the sunlight as he emerged from

the pub and into Diagon Alley. He waved his butterflies off and glided
towards the direction of the much awaited ice cream parlor. Death
was enjoying his son's petting and if a snake could purr, it would be
purring like an engine in full blast.
"Excuse me!" He turned and raise a questioning brow at the

stranger.
"May I help you?" The one that had called him looked familiar to him,
but he couldn't quite place where he had seen him before.
"Mar- Mr. Gaunt! I didn't know it was you. How are you doing these
days?" The stranger knows him?
"Indeed it is. I'm doing good, and you?"
"Fine, fine. Just on duty you see."
"Duty? Ah you're an auror! You finally gotten your dream job eh?"
Marcaunon faked a chuckle whilst the guy blushed.
"Y-you remembered!"
"Indeed. It was hard to forget." Now if only he remembered who

exactly this person is.
"Haha… Yeah I used to shout it out loud back then in the halls."
"Is work treating you well enough?"
"Oh yes! What about you, Mr. Gaunt? I've heard from one of my
friends working as a NEWTs administrator that you breezed
through."
"Well, I'm still waiting for my results."
"Will you be working for the Ministry as well? The law department
were buzzing at wanting you there."
"We shall see. I'm still unsure about what jobs to choose…"
"I would be happy to recommend you some!" The man grinned

goofily whilst eyeing Marcaunon. "I could owl you."
"That would be much appreciated. Thank you."
"Oh no problem at all… anything for you…" He whispered out the

last part.
"It's been a pleasure catching up, but if you'll excuse me, I have a
prior engagement to attend to." Marcaunon smiled at him.
"Sure. Sorry for holding you up." The still man beamed at him.
The stranger soon waved and went back to patrol with his senior.
Marcaunon turned and quickly made way towards his original
destination. He shrugged it off as not important and entered the store
upon arrival.
He missed the way Marchosias narrowed his eyes at the stranger.
"What's got you so red faced, Sean?" The gruff Auror questioned his
junior.
Said junior blushed harder, if that was even possible, before

answering with a shy smile.
"I used to have a crush on him back when I was in Hogwarts.

Majority of the students did."
"Judging by your face, you still do… Have you warned him?"
The older Auror raised a bushy brow. Wasn't school meant for study
not romance?
"Huh? About?"
The answer made him face palm.
"… The snake. You were supposed to warn him about it being a
danger to the public."
"AH! I forgot!"
"Clearly." The older stated drily.

"Good day, sir. Flavor?" The young man behind the counter asked
with a smile.
"It is a splendid day is it not? I would like a large bowl of chocolate

and hazelnut please." Marcaunon turned to his son. "And you, young
prince?"
The toddler removed his teething ring to reply.
"'ohee."
"A small bowl of coffee flavor ice cream please."
Before the young man could speak about coffee being too bitter for a
toddler's taste, he placed the required amount of coins on the
counter and strode towards one of the empty tables. He knew that
his son hated sweet food with passion.
He fondly remembered how Chaos's nose scrunch up cutely when

he took a sip of Marcaunon's cocoa. His brain decided not to
remember how his cup of cocoa was overly sweet with more sugar
than chocolate content.
" Oh! Mort do you want ice cream as well?" He whispered to the
snake.
" No, but thank you for asking, Master." It replied and snuggled
closer to him to gain warmth.
" I wonder… Little prince, do you understand me?"
The toddler nodded with wide eyes and started to make hissing
noises as if to test if he could speak parseltongue in his young age
(what Marcaunon didn't know was that Chaos had finally discovered
why his mother's accent was so seductive and wanted such an
accent himself, it would do good as a manipulating tool). Marcaunon
chuckled at the attempts and looked up when an owl carrying a
Ministry letter landed in front of him.
He untied the letter and the owl flew off without prompt. Just on time
as two bowls of ice cream appeared on his table.
He placed his son onto a baby high chair next to him before setting
down the smaller bowl with a plastic spoon onto the mini table that
was connected to the chair. Chaos grabbed the spoon with his shaky
fingers and concentrated on scooping some ice cream.
Marcaunon smiled fondly at the toddler's attempts of independence

and opened the letter whilst still keeping an eye on his son.
Wizarding Examination Authority
Ministry of Magic, Educational Division
Jennifer Banks, Head Examiner
NASTILY EXHAUSTING WIZARDING TESTS
Pass Grades:
Outstanding [O]
Exceeds Expectations [E]
Acceptable [A]
Fail Grades:
Poor [P]
Dreadful [D]
Troll [T]
Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt has achieved the following N.E.W.T's:
Ancient Runes - O
Arithmancy - O
Alchemy - O
Care of Magical Creatures - O
Charms - O
Defense Against the Dark Arts - O
Herbology - O
History of Magic - O
Potions - O
Transfiguration - O
" How did you do?"
" Good." Marcaunon replied as he took a spoonful of ice cream in

bliss.
A/N:
And finally we are finished with the back story of how Marc spent his
childhood and Hogwarts years. Do take note that in this fic, male
pregnancies are longer than female…. Ok fine, I mixed up the dates
up and it turned twice as long, I was too lazy to fix it!
Marchosias is 'A great and mighty marquis of Hell, commanding

thirty legions of demons' . I found it whilst browsing through
demonology.
Hufflepuff Firsties:
-Promona Sprout (Female/Pureblood)

-Ave & Maria Abbott (Female/First-generation Pureblood)
-Suzzie McQuillen (Female/Pureblood)
-Risa Edeson (Female/Half-blood)
-Arnold Walker (Male/Muggle-born)
-Connor Hill (Male/Muggle-born)
-Christopher Davies (Male/Muggle-born)
-Marcaunon Gaunt (Male/Pureblood)
And yes, I noticed that the females are full of purebloods. Once I
reread the first year, I was taken aback but was too lazy to change
them. At least there is one Half-blood… Insert sweatdrop here.
When I was listening to songs on Youtube, I came across Aqua -

Cartoon Heroes . It was such an old song and I remembered how I
used to listen to this when I was in Primary school. Ah, the good old
days! So no, I do not own the song Marcaunon was singing at
his third year. Though I recommend reading said part whilst
listening to the song!
Before I wrote about the Abbott Manor in Marcaunon's fourth year, I

was watching PewDiePie play Ju-On (I wrote each year when I feel
inspiration). It made me wary of opening doors to my room or…
actually any doors. It took me a week to open the door normally,
without turning the knob and backing a few steps away whilst waiting
for said door to open (very slowly I might add). I know that his
attitude is beginning to seem OOC, but fear not! Hogwarts is his
home and he feels protected and safe when he's there. That's one of
the reasons as to why he's somewhat soft. Let us not forget that he
despise Muggles only, not wizards.
The sex scene was kind of rushed but I can't really have the
imagination for it when Marcaunon's partner is… I don't want to spoil
so I won't say a thing. But it creeps me out too much to make a
better scene. So… Forgive me? ~(T-T)~ I promise to make a better
sex scene between Voldie and Marc.
Family tree of Voldemort and Marc!
M a R volo - M e R ope - Tom M a R volo
M a R kos - M a R bas - M a R caunon - M a R chosias
Oh and M o R t is a honorary Gaunt in Marc's eyes.
If you guesses Marc's name correctly for Marcaunon S. Gaunt, you

get a cookie! Seirios is actually Sirius, in honor of Harry's Godfather.
*Snuggerud is pronounced as snugger-rude (he used to be a pro

hockey player!) by the way.
Thanks to all the people who reviewed/follow-ed/fav-ed! I don't mind

being given advice and would be grateful if you would correct me if I
was wrong.
Story recommendation for today: Surge de Hydra from

Watermelonsmellinfellon. It's about Harry going into his creature
inheritance (A Hydra) and learning what Tom fought for. TMR/HP
pairing, included M-preg.
Rainbows and daisies,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 4
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture
Disclaimer: If I were the author of Harry Potter, Dumblekins

would have chocked on a Lemon Drop and drop dead, not AK-
ed. So no, I do not own Harry Potter.
"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
" Spells"
-Line Break-
Chapter 4: Unexpected Surprises
December 1963
Location: Hogsmeade
The streets of Hogsmeade were crowded as students from Hogwarts

scuttle around, pulling their friends into shops and cafes. The
atmosphere of the village was filled with bubbly laughter, sparkly
smiles of happiness, and no doubt would be refreshing for
Marcaunon… If not for his son's constant glaring. He was imitating a
basilisk apparently. It was a good attempt since the boy was wearing
a black serpent onesie -it took awhile to force him into said outfit,
nevertheless Marcaunon was nothing but persistent.
"Little one, cease your death glares this instance. Lest I force my
spectacles on you." He murmured under his breath whilst still keep
up his smiling façade.
The effect was instantaneous. Marchosias narrowed eyes became

wide with innocence as he thrust his pudgy fingers into his mouth.
The display made the school girls coo at the sheer cuteness emitting
from his little one.
Marcaunon could only sighed inward.
The reason for his son's petulant attitude? The boy hated going out
without Mort -in serpent form- wrapped firmly around his shoulders.
With his servant looking (and being) deadly, most would be smart
enough stay clear of him. Plus majority of the Wizarding World is still
frightened of slithery snakes in general, especially if one is highly
venomous.
Death had refused to accompany them. It had things to do, or so It

says. Marcaunon sometimes had a hard time trusting anything that
comes out from Its mouth. Like that one time It said that Its face was
all boney and full of maggots… Which was obviously false since he
already saw what was underneath. If Marcaunon wasn't asexual, he
would've jumped and ravished his servant the moment Its hood was
down.
It seems that he was rambling in his thoughts. Perhaps it's a sign of

insanity… He should get back on topic.
Marcaunon knew that his reputation as a friendly loveable Hufflepuff

whom gives awesome advice (his friend's words) led to a lot of his
juniors wanting to get to know him, even if it is just for a moment.
And to keep up such an image; small talks and advices are required.
Thus Marchosias's current sulky attitude.
Today's plan was to buy a cake for Marchosias (his birthday) and the
boy was looking forward to his celebration -not that he outwardly
showed it. Invitations were already sent, answers were received, and
the only thing left is cake.
Most of the guests would be from Hufflepuff of course, including their

family members. But thanks to his popularity brought by quidditch,
he made a lot of minio- friends. A lot of friends from different Houses.
After graduating from Hogwarts, Marcaunon had moved entirely into

a cottage at the border of Hogsmeade. The view of Hogwarts was
splendid from his bed chambers, and he would usually find
Marchosias sitting on the windowsill just gazing at the magnificent
castle. Often than not, he would have to carry the physically small
child back to bed. He may be cold and ruthless, but he was not
heartless to forbid his own son from wanting to look at Hogwarts at
night -the view is amazing and it was their first home back in their
world.
The cottage was actually owned by Death since the very beginning
of the village, but nobody needed to know that piece of information.
Most of his members had questioned him as to why he named such
a lovely cottage Dormus Mortem, The House of Death. He of course
had just shrugged it off and told them the previous owner named it
as such, which was true.
When he finally reached Honeydukes after making a tactical retreat -

he did not run away- from the crowd with his son sitting comfortably
on his hip, he let out a sigh of relief.
His nose twitched from the smell of sweetness and his sight was
soon filled with shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking
sweets imaginable. He could already feel himself salivating. This
was Heaven for sweet-tooths like him.
" Mama?" Marchosias's cute high pitched hissing brought him out of
his fantasies.
" Yess, little one?"
"Why awe we hewe?" Even though his son's mental age is that of an
adult (old man), his tongue and vocal cords were still young, thus
leading to his difficulty in pronouncing proper words. If Marcaunon
was a lesser man, he would've squealed -or blanch from hearing
Minimort talk like that.
"Well, mummy has to restock his supplies." His stocks had

mysteriously vanished overnight. Death was the main suspect, but
Marcaunon couldn't think of any reason as to why the being would
steal his sugar.
His son looked at him with disapproving ruby eyes.
"Youw teeth will wot one of these days."
"And that's where magic comes in." He stuck his tongue out
childishly whilst his son looked none too pleased at his behavior.
"Act youw age."
"I'm not good at imitating dust, but I'll try just for you, my dearest." He
chuckled at his son whose nose scrunched up for a second before
turning to look around nonchalantly.
Marcaunon made his way around the store, picking up bags of

candies along the way to add into the bottomless cart provided at the
front. Just as he was about to add in another bag of chocolate frogs,
the sound of someone clearing their throat made him and his son
look over his shoulder with identical brows raised in question.
"Marcaunon my boy! What a coincidence."
"Professor Dumbledore! Indeed it is. Are you here to restock your

lemon drops, sir?" Marcaunon plastered a smile on his face and
pressed his son's glaring ones into his shoulder.
Marchosias looked a little too much like mini-Tom Riddle, but with
messy hair -Chaos was devastated when his hair stubbornly
remained disorderly. He remembered howling with laughter at the
look Marchosias sprouted, like it was the end of the world.
The old man's eyes zoomed towards his little Chaos.
"Indeed my sherbet lemons have all been used up! My, what a
handsome young man! Your little brother?"
"Your addiction to lemons even exceeds my own to chocolate,

Professor. And no, this is my son." This made the smile on the old
man's face strained.
"Adoption?"
"We look too alike for adoption, Headmaster." And blood adoption is
illegal by law -he wanted to shove a giant wand up the minister's
arse for making such a rule.
"Isn't he a little too old…?"
Marcaunon stroked his son's hair in an almost rueful manner whilst

warping his face into one of contrite, but not too much regret, and a
tinge of happiness. It took him weeks (forcing himself to ignore
Death's blunt comments ) of looking into the mirror trying to perfect
this expression.
"Indeed he is…"
The old man seemed to understand -what he did, Marcaunon didn't

know- something and patted Marcaunon's shoulder in sympathy.
"If you are in need of any help, you can always come to me, dear
child. My doors are always open."
"I could never intrude on you, Professor!"

"Of course not! And please call me Albus. You have already
graduated, with the highest score at that!" The old man cheered.
"Yess, thank you Prof-Albus." He gave a grateful smile.
The meddler turned towards Marchosias and smiled brightly, his blue
eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacle.
"May I ask for your name, young man?"
"What's youws?" The boy countered childishly. Marcaunon almost

tsked at his cheek.
The man just chuckled and pinched the boy's cheek, much to said
boy's chagrin.
"Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts."
"Mawchosias Gaunt, fouw yeaws old."
"It's nice to meet you, little one!" The headmaster cheered. The blue
eyes scrutinized Marchosias and Marcaunon almost wanted to hide
his boy. "You look adorable in that… outfit. A snake?"
"Yess. Papa bought it fow me."
Marcaunon grinned and flicked one of the stuffed fangs inside the
hood. He couldn't resist the temptation of buying some animal
hoodies and forcing his boy into them. It was perfect blackmail
material for when Marchosias was older!
"Your papa has interesting taste." He turned towards Marcaunon and

questioned. "What have you been up to these days, my dear boy? A
ministry job?"
Marcaunon chuckled and shook his head softly, his feather-like

raven hair fluttering around before settling down to frame his face.
"The year has been kind to me, but I am unemployed at the
moment."
"Oh? An excellent student such as yourself is currently

unemployed?" There was a note of curiosity in the meddler's voice.
Marcaunon knew that he had scored the highest of his year and was
awarded for it. Many have indeed owl him, especially the Ministry, to
work for them.
"I have always been interested in Potions… and have entered a

Potions' Guild to obtain my Potions' Master qualification certificate."
He informed slowly and dropped the bag of chocolate frogs into his
cart.
The old goat moved together with him and they stopped just as they
reached the shabelot lemon candy container. Both Marcaunon and
Dimpledick grabbed a few handfuls of lemon drops to add in their
cart.
As much as he hated the old goat, he sometimes craved sour

sweets whilst he worked on Deathfiles. Lemon drops is something
that would not ruin his work if he were to accidently knock the bowl
down.
"Which guild did you enter, my boy?"
"Cauldron Fever, sir."
"Hmm…" Dimpledog tugged on his beard in thought. "I heard much

about them. They have indeed produced excellent Masters! Horace
came from the very same guild as well."
"So I've heard. Professor Slughorn was the one who introduced me
to the guild."
"I'm sure he did. How are you managing?"

They moved onto another shelf filled with all type of marshmallows
and Marcaunon grabbed each one of them, much to the old man's
amusement and Marchosias's distaste. Marchosias had regained
control of his anger at the old man's company and did his best to
acting shy around strangers.
"And perhaps you could recommend a Master -"
"Pardon me, Professor Dumbledore sir." The owner of Honeydukes

interrupted the Headmaster. The old man looked irritated underneath
his grandfatherly smile. Good! "Got a letter fer Marcaunon here."
Mr. Flume handed the letter with the guild's emblem (a dark blue
cauldron surrounded by green fire) and walked back to the counter
after Marcaunon thanked him. Both the Headmaster and he had a
curious expression on their faces. Marcaunon looked at his son with
an apologetic expression and turned towards the Headmaster.
"Forgive me Albus, but will you hold him for me?" Marchosias's ruby
red eyes widen in horror and the look of betrayal on such a young
face almost made Marcaunon broke out in laughter. Almost. No need
to antagonize his little Chaos any further. And boy, he could hold a
grudge.
The old goat was oblivious to Marchosias unease and was quick to
agree with a wide smile on his wrinkly face, his love for children
showing through his eyes. He handed his son -which was squirming
to get free- over and carefully opened the letter.
P.M.A.A.T.
Grade 3
~Cauldron Fever's Insignia~
(Potions' Master Advanced Aptitude Test)
Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt

This is to certify that you have passed P.M.A.A.T. Grade 3 and have
been awarded the classification of:
OUTSTANDING
You have passed the final and most difficult P.M.A.A.T. and are to be
highly commended. Many of your fellow candidates were less than
fortunate. Your new qualification will stand you in good stead should
you wish to join any of the Wizarding World's Potions' Master
positions. Congratulations.
Test taken on:
01/11/63
Member Identification Number:
M13-1-18-3
Jellal F. Frost
~Signature~
Cauldron Fever Guild Master
Marcaunon stared at it for a minute in shock whilst the old man and
his son looked over his shoulder.
"Oh my! It only took you a year to complete all three tests? I
commend you! Most would take years just to pass the first." The
Headmaster exclaimed in surprise before he beamed at Marcaunon,
joy and pride radiating from him. His eyes were twinkling like mad
and Marcaunon hid a frown. It was suspicious.
Marchosias's eyes widen before they looked towards him with

satisfaction, confidence and pride. Marcaunon snatched his son from
the old man's winkled arms and hugged the child to his chest. His
face broke into a grin and he twirled them both around.
"I did it!" He cheered and kissed his son's forehead in happiness, not
minding that the other occupants of the store were staring strangely
at them.
Marchosias giggled together with him. The proud boy would

venomously deny it later though. His mood was broken when his
shoulder was patted by a winkled hand, though he didn't show it. He
smiled towards Dumiespore.
"Congratulations, my boy! That reminds me… Horace had asked that

he retire early due to some unforeseen circumstances just the other
day. I was on my way towards a Potions' Guild to find a replacement
after restocking… but…" The blue twinkles in his eyes brightened.
"Would you like to apply for the job of Potions' Master at Hogwarts?"
Marcaunon pretended to think for a moment and looked at the

Headmaster insecurely.
"Sir… As much I would love to accept your job offer, I can't possibly
leave my son to work at Hogwarts." He frowned and brushed a few
strands from Marchosias's face.
"Fear not, my boy. I'm sure I could make an exception and allow both
of you to live in the Castle."
Marcaunon schooled his face to one of surprise before smiling

gratefully at the old man.
"Then… When will I have to drop by for an interview?"
"Are we not having an interview at this very moment?"
"Indeed…"
They both chuckled and continued to converse whilst Marcaunon

resumed his candy dropping into his cart. After buying all almost all
the candy in the store, they both paid for their purchases and head
towards the cake shop.
Since the Headmaster's schedule was empty, he offered to

accompany Marcaunon to the cake shop. Not having any reason to
deny, he nodded and after a few more minutes of trying to find his
way out, he gave up.
For a bloody Gryffindor, Dumbles sure knows how to slither his way
into people's business. Marcaunon had no choice but to invite his
employer to his son's birthday party, much to Marchosias's horror.
After reaching their little cottage, the Headmaster helped him finish
his last minute decorations whilst they wait for the others to arrive.
Marchosias continued to sulk and sauntered -very much like him-
into the library to ignore the old man's presence.
The guests soon arrived and the Headmaster seemed surprised to

see that there were not only Hufflepuffs invited, but Ravenclaw,
Gryffindor and Slytherin as well. Some of his guests brought their
young ones with them, and were sent to play with Marchosias.
Marcaunon knew that his son always dreaded playtime (and

playdates with other kids) but showed politeness that made the
adults and graduates compliment on how his son was so much like
his father. They thought that young Chaos would be sorted in
Hufflepuff when he reached eleven, but Marcaunon knew otherwise.
No matter what his son's name was currently, he would always have
Tom Riddle's pride of being a Slytherin's decendant and is always
ambitious beyond belief. Too ambitious and cunning for any other
Houses.
Marcaunon would support whatever his son's decision would be,

even if their plans for the future were different. He would try to
improvise and formulate another if their ideas clash, no matter what.
He knew that in the future, the current Tom Riddle -Lord Voldemort-
would find out about him and his son.
He would not know if they would be captured or forced to join the
Dark Lord or given permission to make their own decision, but they
would never be left alone. Tom Riddle in his original world had
always wanted another speaker to converse with -not that he openly
admitted it, but since they had a mental connection it was quite
obvious. That was one of the reasons as to why Voldemort always
demanded Harry Potter to join him.
The thought almost made him grimace in distaste. He hoped that

Voldemort won't feel his position as the Dark Lord being threatened.
As much as he didn't want to kill Voldemort, he would be forced to if
his son's life was threatened.
The party went by smoothly with Marchosias receiving a lot of

presents. His son was looking at him with barely hidden
disappointment when Marcaunon failed to present him a gift.
Marcaunon hid a smile behind his cup of cocoa. No matter how
much the boy acted irritated by his childish behavior, Marcaunon
knew that he cares.
The day finally turned to night and soon, their guests had left. He
turned towards his son.
" Happy Birthday, love." He swept his little boy into his arms and
kissed both of Marchosias's chubby cheeks.
" Thank you, Mama."
" Happy Birthday, young Lord." Death appeared suddenly, making

said birthday boy jump in surprise.
" Young Lord? Well, he certainly acts like a one." Marcaunon

chuckled whilst his boy glared at him in annoyance (Marchosias
fumed, he was not spoilt).
" Thank you, Mowt. Whewe have you been?"

" Here and there. I brought you a gift." Death took out a wrapped
box from within its cloak and placed them into Marchosias's palm. It
exited the living room, but not before hearing Its godson's soft
expression of gratitude.
" Open it open it! Mort has always brought interesting things
back home." Marcaunon demanded childishly.
His son rolled his eyes but complied. Inside was a beautifully crafted
silver pocket watch with ruby stones forming a triangle, circle and a
straight vertical line in the middle behind. It was the symbol of the
Deathly Hallows. Marchosias's chubby digits traced the symbol with
feather like touches and looked at him in askance.
" What does this mean? This symbol..?"
" It's Mort's mark… I can sense layers of protection spells

placed there, so it would be wise to have it on your person at all
times."
Marchosias slipped the watch into one of his inner pockets.

Marcaunon had to wonder if onesies came with pockets.
" Mowt's symbol?"
" Yess, Mort's.
" His family's?"
Marcaunon gave his son a mysterious smile and stood up.
" Here's my gift to you." He handed a box to his son. It was opened
without prompt.
On the inside was an onyx pendant held by a silver dragon claw.

There were squiggly lines engraved on the stone and Marchosias
looked towards him for an explanation. Marcaunon chuckled.
" The protection runes are written in Parselrunes." He explained
in his lecture voice. "When we speak in Parseltongue and imbue
magic into our words, they become Parselmagic. From this
concept, I thought that if we could invoke magic just by using
words, why not write them? Unlike normal Parselscripts that
could be used as coded messages to other Speakers,
Parselrunes are meant for creating wards, runes and charms.
When you're older, I'll bring you to see the Ward Stones
protecting this cottage. Perhaps you could understand better
with practical rather than theory."
Marchosias scowled and Marcaunon just knew that his boy was
thinking about how he's actually more than seventy years old, stuck
inside a body of a child.
" Patience sweetie." He winked at his son and kissed him on the
forehead. "Now off to bed, I'm sure you're tired from such an
exhausting day."
Marchosias nodded and stood up to hug him, much to his surprise.
" Thank you, Mama."
" You're very much welcome, my dearest." Marcaunon whispered

and closed his eyes in contentment.
-Line Break-
Location: Hogwarts
Just the previous day, Marcaunon had questioned his loyal servant
of Its method on dealing with his previous Potions' Professor. He still
marveled at the fact that Death -that bloody workaholic- would take a
day off to arrange everything for him. Even though his question was
unanswered, he would not look a gift in a thestral's mouth.
Both he and his son looked vacantly at the giant looming gate of
Hogwarts with an air of impatience.
"Remember to be on your best behavior." The scarlet eyed teen
turned towards the child sitting comfortably on his hip. "And to speak
properly, for you can never know who would be listening."
The ruby eyed child gave a small nod and rested his head on
Marcaunon's shoulder. They were waiting for the Headmaster and
the elder of the two almost snapped at how late the old man was.
Does the fool not know that time was precious -especially his.
Marcaunon turned his head to the direction of where a powerful Light

magical signature came from and was rewarded with blinding neon
orange and pink. He hissed under his breathe and could feel how his
son scrunched up his nose in distaste as the child hid his face into
Marcaunon's robe.
The teen gave the eccentric old man a closed-eyed smile and
prayed that he could hopefully convince said old man to change -
burn- his wardrobe in the near future. He would not want his and his
son's retina to be incinerated by those things the old man called
clothes.
"Marcaunon my boy! Forgive an old man's lateness. Hagrid -you

remember him don't you?- was in need of convincing that… babying
dangerous creatures was not something to do. Almost poisoned in
fact!" The Headmaster greeted with twinkling blue eyes.
"No problem, Albus. The sight of Hogwarts is something to admire. Is

Hagrid alright?" He asked in concern .
Dumpodour waved his concerns off with a bright smile.
"No worries, it would take more than a three-headed snake to bring

down the big fella. Let us be on our way!"
He lifted an elegant brow and hid his amusement when his mind
brought an image of their friendly resident half-giant snuggling a poor
runespoor whilst making cute babying sounds. Perhaps he should
introduce his little Chaos to some of Hagrid's… pets.
They were led inside the castle and Marcaunon was unable to hold a
small smile from appearing on his lips. He had missed his first true
home. He whispered to his son about the hidden corridors, portraits
and statues within the castle, with Dumbodie adding his fair share.
The threesome soon arrived within the dungeons and stopped in

front of a portrait of a pale, black haired man with dark green eyes
and a large green serpent coiled around his shoulders. It hissed
profanities at them and Marchosias let out a bell-like giggle when
said snake kept insulting the Headmaster.
"You may change the password afterwards, but for now; Potions."
They entered the moderate sized room, with walls covered in earthly
green and black. The room was furnished, and linked with three
additional doors. The headmaster clarified that the black door leads
to his personal potion's lab, the green door to his and his son's
bedchambers, and the brown door to his personal study. After setting
his son on an armchair near the fireplace, he took a look around -
noticing a map atop said fireplace that shows the layout of the
dungeons.
He soon entered the green door to place both his and his son's
shrunken trunks inside and promised himself to unpack after dinner.
He closed the door and made his way towards the fireplace where
Albus was smiling at the squirming child on his lap. He grimaced and
shot the boy a pitying look.
"Is this place to your liking?"
"It is, thank you."
Marchosias hopped off the old man's lap in relief and waddled
towards Marcaunon with his arms outstretched. He snatched the boy
from the floor and placed the grimacing child on his hip.
Soon they were on their way to the Great Hall for dinner, after visiting
his future classroom and shown the entrance to the Slytherin
common room.
The students in the hall were whispering to one another, the upper
years clearly recognizing Marcaunon whilst the lower years listen to
their senior's story about him. Dumiepoo ushered him next to his
own seat on the left.
Marcaunon took it with a polite nod and placed his son on his lap.
The Headmaster soon introduced the professors and explained that
Marchosias would be staying together with him, since he was a
single father.
Some of the Professors looked at him with disdained. They probably

thought that he had knocked up some poor girl.
Dumbles continued to instruct him on what his duties were (brewing

Potions for the Medi-witch when her stocks are halved), explaining
as to why he became the Head of the House for Slytherin (tradition
for Potion Masters to become one) and if he wanted, bring
Marchosias to his classes. But only if Marchosias kept away from
boiling cauldrons, dangerous ingredients, and the such -not that his
son would be foolish enough to endanger his own life, too much self-
preservation.
The feast soon began after the Headmaster had made his
announcements. The professors conversed softly, mostly about how
young or uncontrolled he was to be having a son at such an age.
Marcaunon had to grit his teeth to refrain his magic from lashing out
when one of them called Marchosias a bastard child.
"It's good to see you again, Mr. Gaunt." McGonagall said. Her eyes
softened as she looked at both of them.
"Likewise, Professor McGonagall."
"Please, call me Minerva. We're co-workers are we not?"

"Then Marcaunon to you, Minerva."
"For me as well, Marcaunon. If you would allow me to?" A squeaky

voice said and he turned towards the half goblin.
"Of course, Filius. May I introduce you both to my son, Marchosias?

Greet the Professors little one."
"Salutations." Marchosias said distractively as he struggled to scoop

some beans.
"My… What a clever boy. Much like you, Marcaunon."
"Thank you Filius. Marchosias loves reading so perhaps he would

end up in your House in the future."
"Oh I can't wait! A Raven in the making hm?"
Marcaunon chuckled at the half-goblin's excitement as he

questioned little Chaos on the books he had read.
"May I ask… where his mother is?" McGonagall asked softly, as if to

not want his boy to hear. It was a futile attempt since Marchosias
unconsciously tilted his head in her direction -he would have to fix
that habit soon. He could see there was only curiosity and he
unintentionally grimaced as he remembered how Charlie had
Obliviated him after they had… exercised.
Marchosias had a dark look on his face when he spotted

Marcaunon's grimace.
"Alive if you're wondering. She… doesn't want him."
"My apologies. I didn't mean to bring it up…"
Marcaunon shook his head to the woman and smiled at her. They
continued their small talk whilst they ate, and he noticed how the
others apart from McGonagall and Flitwick glared at him. He could
practically taste their jealousy and disgust.
"Albus?"
"Yes, my boy?" The wrinkled old man raised an eyebrow in question.
"Is it possible to have a high-chair next to mine in the future? As well

as a plastic spork?"
"Of course it is. I'll be sure to inform the elves."
Marcaunon thanked the Headmaster and patted his son's fluffy hair.
Now that he had his dream job -and a first class seat to watching
Dumbledork squirm in the future fight with Voldemort- he was
content for the time being.
-linebreak-
Location: Hogwarts, Potion's Classroom
Marchosias was sitting on his mother's desk in the Potion's

classroom, waiting for the students to finish their breakfast to attend.
He looked up from one of his mother's potion tomes when he heard
the door slamming open.
The high and childish voices of eleven year olds were heard through
the door and soon, they started heading towards a random seat.
After much time, they finally noticed him sitting on their professor's
desk, staring at them with unnerving ruby red eyes.
He questioned why his eyes were red once, but Marcaunon only
wrinkled his nose and told him it was genes.
He noticed that this class was filled with all four Houses. Perhaps
this year's first year had too little numbers to be separated into two
houses each. Getting annoyed at their constant bickering over
useless books and subjects, he closed his book; leading to a
deafening silence heard after a loud bang when more than a
thousand pages closed together.
"It would be pwoductive if you tuwn to page five and wead whilst
waiting."
Majority of the class made cute cooing sounds at him, whilst the
others lifted their noses to look down on him. He did not appreciate
that one bit. Just as he was about to give them a very thoroughly
tongue lashing, he halt and remembered Marcaunon telling him
about acting his age -and most kids don't read dictionaries just
because they were bored.
Sometimes he wondered if Marcaunon was oblivious and ignorant

about children or he just didn't care about Marchosias's adult-like
behavior.
He ignored them in favor of reading the tome on his lap, not minding
that it was half his size and dwarfed him cutely.
The door slammed open and he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes
at how his mother made his cloak billow dramatically. He could see
how everyone's eyes were trailing after Marcaunon, and he could not
fault them. His mother's presence always demanded attention even
without words.
Marcaunon stood before the class, hand behind and back straight.
Looking like a perfect pureblood lord rather than a mere Potion's
Professor.
"My name is Marcaunon Gaunt, and the child sitting on my desk is

my son, Marchosias. Due to some circumstances that are not any of
your concern, he will accompany me in lessons…" His mother
scrutinized them and smiled softly. "Keep your wands as there will be
no wand waving or incantations in this class."
Some of them hesitated, but was quick to keep them when

Marcaunon's smile became sweeter. Yes, his mother had a
dangerous smile that he often used when Marchosias was stubborn.
He looked intimidating without his rose-tinted glasses to hide those
beautiful yet deadly scarlet red eyes.
Perhaps he should flush those hideous things down the toilet just to
prevent Marcaunon from wearing them once more.
"I am well aware that you have already… been taught by your
previous professor, Horace Slughorn. My methods and his differ. We
will begin from the beginning, and I assure you that you will not fall
behind." Marcaunon assured them as some Ravens began to
protest. They were silenced with a look.
"I know for a fact that many of you would prefer waving your wands
to making potions… Since only complicated ones would need magic.
As such, it is understandable that majority do not appreciate the
exact art of potions making. However for those… few… who possess
the predisposition…" His voice became hard, and most of the
students held their breath. Some even shivered at the passionate
look his mother's eyes were sporting. "I can teach you how to
bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses."
Marchosias saw his mother cross his arms and lean on the desk, just
beside him, completely relaxed. The children were waiting for him to
continue with eagerness. A complete one eighty from their bored
expressions before.
"I can tell you how to bottle fame… brew glory and even put a
stopper in death…" The scarlet eyes lit up and Marchosias could
hear some of the girls sighing their love sick sighs that he often
heard when taking a stroll with his mother outside their home. "But
then again… Can someone please wake her up? Yess, the girl at the
back."
The closed-eye smiled was deadly and Marchosias shivered in

remembrance.
Most of the class turned to one Slytherin girl that was yawning and
rubbing her eyes, as if she had just woken from a short nap. The
person beside the girl nudged her arm and she startled into focus.
"Miss…?" Marcaunon asked slowly as he stared directly at her.

"Black. Bellatrix Black." The girl with wayward brown curls sneered
at his mother.
Marchosias looked at her in interest. He remembered the insane

witch that he had taught once upon a time. He now had the
opportunity to see how she grew into being one of the best duelers in
his circle of followers.
"Tell me Ms. Black… Perhaps you have come to Hogwarts in

possession of ability so formidable that you are confident enough to
answer some of my questions… since you were obviously not paying
attention?" Marcaunon questioned softly, his smile turned innocent.
"Go ahead." She sniffed haughtily with her nose held up high. " Sir ."
"What would I get if I added powdered rooted Asphodel to an

infusion of Wormwood?" Marchosias almost snorted out loud. That
was sixth year material if his eidetic memory served him right.
The students looked flabbergasted and even the Eagles don't seem
confident enough to answer. Bella shook her head with a scowl.
"You don't know? Well let us try once more. Where… Ms. Black
would you look at if I asked to find me a bezoar?" If Bella was smart
enough to read before class, she would know -it was on page five-
that the answer was clearly printed there.
Once again, the foolish girl shook her head, her face going red in
anger. Marchosias wondered if the reason why she was captured
and shoved into Azkaban for thirteen years was because of her pride
of her being superior to those with dirty - blood .
In his four years of reincarnated life, he had learned that blood

wasn't everything thanks to his mother. He had been in denial first,
but then thought back to how the strongest wizards were always
Half-bloods. Albus Dumbledore (as much as he hated to admit it),
Harry Potter… And him, Tom Riddle.
Marcaunon gave him a book once to prove that new blood was
required and Purebloods should stop fucking their close
cousins/sisters/brothers (his mother's words, not his). Marchosias
snapped back into focus as Marcaunon questioned Bella once more.
"And what is the difference between Wolfbane and Monkshood?"

They're one and the same… Clearly her dueling skills came from
practical and not theoretical.
Yet again, she shook her head. This time her face turned an ugly
shade of purple, almost as she was about to explode. Judging from
his mother's sadistic -yet hidden- smile, he knew exactly what would
happen after he spoke the next word.
"Pity. Clearly blood isn't everything… Is it… Ms. Black ?" The way
Marcaunon spoke the word Black was mocking and Marchosias had
to bite back a giggle.
"You dare!?" She screeched. "You filthy… ! Says the Mudblood who
knocked up a girl. She probably dumped her son on you since he's a
filthy burden. Clearly we can all see how he has come from the
wedlock." If he wasn't feeling homicidal right now, he would have
been amused at how an eleven year old girl knows what knocked up
means.
Alas, he gritted his teeth to prevent himself from snarling right there
and then. Before his mother could retort (oh he could see how
Marcaunon's eyes burned), he had already jumped down the high
desk and stalked towards the young and so very foolish Bella. He
dragged a stool, not minding that the noise made most of the
students cringe, in front of the girl's desk and stood on it. He glared
at her.
"Fow youw infowmation… Miss Black ." He hissed, forgetting that he

was not a Dark Lord, but just a child of four winters. "Asphodel and
Wowmwood makes sleeping potion so powewful it is known as the
Dwaught of the Living Dead. A bezoaw is a stone taken fwom the
stomach of a goat, which would save you fwom most poisons.
Though I highly doubt that you awe smawt enough to wecognize the
telltale signs of being poisoned."
He did not notice how Marcaunon's eyes glinted in pride, nor how
the students gap at him in astonishment.
"As fow Monkshood and Wolfsbane, they awe the same plant which
also goes by the name of Aconite." He mocked the bristling girl in
front of him as he jumped down from the stool. "Oh and insulting a
fellow puweblood? Foolish giwl." He hoped that he was pureblood,
since his father is still unknown to him. And he doubted that
Marcaunon would ever willingly become intimate with a Muggle -
Parasite by his mother's dictionary.
Bella screeched and jumped over the table, her hands shot out
towards his neck and he stumbled back, his child side wanting to cry
out for his mother whilst the adult part snarled at her daring.
Before she could even reach for him, she was forced back onto her
chair and silenced without even a word. He heard his mother moving
and stalked towards him. As he reached near, he was placed on the
desk and Marcaunon turned towards the class once again.
"Well… Why aren't you all copying this down?" The class went into
motion and Marcaunon narrowed his eyes at Bella. His mother was
furious and he could see how deadly his closed-eye smile is
becoming.
How he wished he was older so he could Crucio that bitch into

oblivion. Even with his prowess in wandless, he was not at the level
of throwing Unforgivables without a wand.
"And Slytherins… Note that fifty points will be taken from your House
due to your classmate's… cheek… disrespect… and attempted
assault."
The Slytherins glared at Bella whilst they continued to write down

what Marchosias had explained. The board soon had his mother's
familiar cursive writing, written instructions to be followed by
expected time.
As soon as they had placed down their quills, Marcaunon begin to

explain the ingredient's attribute, the reasons as to why said
ingredient was needed, and how to properly brew the potion step by
step.
Some Ravenclaws were promptly shot down after they tried to

correct Marcaunon's teaching, saying that the book wrote otherwise.
Even if his mother had an infinity amount of patience for Marchosias
and Mort, he was snappish and positively rude when his methods
were being questioned just because it was not written inside the
school book.
Marchosias snorted. How his mother was sorted into Hufflepuff was
beyond him. He was clearly Slytherin.
-Line break-
Location: Hogwarts, Marcaunon's study
"Death?" Marcaunon whispered out as he continued to stare at the

documents spread out on his desk.
"You called, Master?" Was the carefree reply as the entity appeared
without Its cloak. It was wearing dark colored Parasite clothing (shirt
and jeans), and Marcaunon stared gobsmacked.
"… What are you wearing?"
"It's obvious isn't it?"
"I mean… Why in Merlin's saggy testicles are you wearing that ?"
"I was taking a walk in the park. Weekends are supposed to be

relaxing is it not?"
"… Forget it. I called you here not to question what wear on your free
time, but about this."
He pointed at the parchments and stared at Death in enquiry. It

picked a few up to read and raised an elegant brow at Marcaunon.
Its Avada eyes glowing with question.
"There's nothing wrong with these documents."
"Well… Yeah… But I'm wondering why I would always get twins in
one folder, even if they were to expire on separate dates. The
documents say that this one, Alice, died nine years ago, and her twin
died just a few hours ago. Why do I receive Alice's documents nine
years later?"
"Ah. As you know, Master, Deathfiles are for you to judge which soul
goes to where, am I right?"
"Yess…?"
"Is that a question or a statement?"
"A statement of course."
"If you say so, Master. Twins are Natural Horcrux."
"… I beg your pardon? It seems that my hearing is failing me in my

old age… I thought I heard you say twins are Horcrux."
"Natural Horcrux, but yes you heard correctly, though if you insist
that your hearing is -"
"I get it! I really wonder why you would insult your own Master
sometimes."
"Shall I explain then?"
"Yess, please. What do you mean by Natural Horcrux?"

"First, let me explain about twins. They are literally one soul with two
bodies. The soul splits exactly in half, before they enter their
respective bodies that were meant for them when they're inside their
bearer. To answer your first question; twins or triplets or any that
come from the same womb, will always share a soul, thus leading
them to have the same Deathfile no matter if one were to die earlier
than the other."
"So… If Twin A were to die a minute after birth, the soul would still be
here? But won't that mean that due to Twin B, Twin A could come
back to life? I have never heard of twins being immortal."
"That's why they're called Natural Horcrux. They will still die due to
severe injury or old age, and they have no option in controlling their
spirit's movement until their counterpart dies."
"Will that mean that Twin B can't bring Twin A back to life?"
"Exactly. Since to create a Horcrux using Soul Magic, the person

would need to perform a ritual. This ritual will prevent the vessel from
dying from natural causes, and allow them control over their spirit.
The person whom has done this ritual could possess a person and
create a new body from scratch."
"Ah I get it. To put it simply, a Natural Horcrux is a soul split into
pieces because they have two or more bodies made from their
mother, but unable to resurrect the other(s) if one were to die, whilst
ritual Horcrux is… well, the Horcrux Volds used to assure his
immortality."
"Yes. This is the reason as to why twins would often than not have
mental connections; they can talk to their counterpart or feel what
the other is feeling. I'm sure you know what I'm speaking of, Master,
since you yourself used to have a mental connection with Tom
Riddle… Do you still have it?"
"Yess actually. Did you forget that Tom's soul was with me for
seventeen years? A very small portion of his soul was merged with
mine, and if it were to have more than seventeen years back then,
Tom and I would have…"
"Indeed… I have watched as you cried yourself to sleep each night

after killing your soul-brother, Master. You never stopped grieving for
him even after a century has passed. He was the only one you still
remember with clarity."
"This is making me depress… Even though I logically know that

there are two Tom Riddles running around (Dumbles would have a
heart attack if he knew)… And one of them knows that I killed him. If
Tom… No, Marchosias ever found out… If he were to look at me with
hatred in his eyes, I could never stand it."
"Master…"
"Look at me now, Death. Love has made me weak. Ever since

Chaos came, I have shown more emotions than I would have liked.
One day, he would leave me. One day he would die. I… Even
thinking about it…" Marcaunon choked on a sob. Death was the only
one who would never laugh at his show of weakness.
Death pulled him into a hug and Marcaunon buried his face into Its
chest. His arms wrapped around Death's middle whilst Its hands
were stroking through his unkempt hair.
"Shhh… It's alright Master. I may not be able to prevent him from
dying, but I can be sure to extend his lifespan."
"But the balance…"
"Nicolas Flamel lived up to six hundred years of age with the damn
stone. I believe another person would not matter."
"He won't die of old age…?"
"Never, Master. But he will die when fatally wounded."
"I'll protect him."

"As will I, Master. I will not be much of help since if I kill too much,
the balance would be disrupted, but I will watch him as I have
watched you."
Marcaunon chuckled weakly and tilted his head to stare into those
beautiful emerald eyes, his chin resting on Its strong chest.
Sometimes he hated not being able to reach Death's shoulders with
his height.
"Let us avoid this topic in the future. Having a breakdown at my age

is beyond embarrassing."
"As you wish, Master. Now you know why twins are placed into one
folder, no matter if one were to die before another."
"Yeah… Will you head back?" He pushed himself away from the
entity reluctantly and stood with his back straight.
"Yes. If that's all Master?" Asked Death as It wiped some of his tears
that were on his cheeks with Its long fingers.
Marcaunon nodded and Death vanished into the shadows. He

smiled softly as a few butterflies landed on his person, and
whispered to the empty room.
"Thank you, Mort, my dearest companion."
-Line Break-
The questions that were asked by Marcaunon, and answered by

Marchosias were from HP and the Sorc Stone. I'm trying (and I think
I'm failing) to imitate Unohana Retsu's scary smile and putting it on
Marcaunon when he's angry at his students.
For the people who have given me advice, I thank you and will work
hard to improve on my mistakes. And for those who have guessed
who Marc had slept with, congrats -you have officially broken my
heart! Messy hair and Hazel eyes are a dead giveaway huh…? For
those curious people: Yess Chaos's sperm donor will make an
appearance in the future.
I must thank you all for reviewing. Every time I opened my E-mail
and see alert or comments, I just want to throw my hands in the air
and shout BANZAI!~
Sorry for such a short chapter… (T_T)… And if any of you have
questions, feel free to drop a review or PM.
Story recommendation for today: Rebuilt by Terrific Lunacy. The

world was in a crisis with not much food/water… Humans group up
into gangs, finding territory etc etc. Tommy-boy became a Lord,
whilst Harry is an oblivious mad genius inventor whom tries (and
fails) to stay neutral. The fic's funny and awesome. TMR/HP pairing.
Rainbows and unicorns,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 5
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
" Spells"
Writing
Chapter 5: Snakes and Therapy
1964
Location: Knockturn Alley
It has been a tiring year since he had started teaching in Hogwarts.

Many of the students had doubts about his skills and knowledge
when he first started to teach them. He was nineteen and the
youngest Professor to ever been hired into Hogwarts. Of course they
were worried, especially the fifth and seventh years. But soon they
began to soften and treat him like any other Professor.
He was not really worried about gaining their approval, time was on
his side and he was planning on sticking long enough to witness
Voldemort's rise and fall. Also, he was very tempted to let it all play
out until Quirrell comes into picture. He wanted the stone so badly,
since even with all the knowledge he had gained, Flamel never left
any notes behind for him to study or make a new one.
On another note, Marcaunon was slightly worried about his physical

appearance. His body would not grow older than it already is and he
would be stuck at the constant age of teenhood. It was hard enough
to pass as someone in their twenties, and he was highly insulted
when Ginny had pointed out he looked more like a sixteen year old
boy than a thirty year old man back then. Curse the Dursleys. Oh
yes he would curse them to hell and back for their constant period of
starvation.
Anyway, he digressed… His mind would always wonder off topic at

random moments…
People would ask questions as to why he was not aging, and he

didn't want to be experimented on Unspeakables. Once was more
than enough. There was of course the simple solution of using
glamours, but the Headmaster had asked -demanded- him to stick to
his current ones and prevent from adding any more.
Marcaunon had found out quite literally that Dumbie's lenses have
anti-glamour charms placed on them, similar to Moody's eye but less
powerful and unable to detect polyjuice. He was able to use his silver
tongue against the Headmaster, lying that he was ashamed of his
scars, to allow them to be covered, but that was all.
So no, he could not apply glamours to help him age physically. He

could of course cook up a story about his genes being awesome and
all since Marchosias would stop aging as well -though he was
unsure when.
Moving on from his appearance, he had a few run ins with his
Slytherins, since he was originally from Hufflepuff. It only lasted a
day before he stormed into their common room and let loose all his
magic on them. The snakes were brought to their knees -quite
literally- and not one person had questioned him after that. There
were looks of awe, respect and fear, but mostly they had a good
student-teacher relationship.
All in all, he thought highly of his work. But as much as he enjoys

teaching and guiding children to their full potential, he had countless
sleepless nights due to this job. Ever since his physical body had
reached four summers, Marcaunon had hated all type of paperwork.
He had blessed whoever created the almighty Pepperup potion after

a week of all-nighters. Sometimes he wondered why he assigned
homework to those ungrateful brats he called students. All he
received back from them were unidentified scribbles. Majority of their
handwriting were worse than chicken scratches, and he had forced
them all into detention just to teach them how to properly use a quill -
especially the Mudbloods.
After Dumb-ass-whore found out what he was making the students

do in detention, he had created a Calligraphy Club with Marcaunon
as the person in charge -not by choice mind you. His workload was
too much even for him and he sometimes asked (read: begged) his
faithful servant to substitute for him (all hail glamours) whilst he try to
gain some shut eye.
His days would usual consist of teaching incautious students how to

not blow up a cauldron in the mornings, a few breaks in between for
some grub, and sitting in the library at the afternoon as students tend
to search him out to ask some potion questions -especially the fifth
and seventh years.
Those are only for his day time. On evenings, he would patrol the
dungeons until midnight, before heading back to his chambers and
making teaching plans for the next day -let us not forget about
grading essays from all his yearly students. Deathfiles soon came
afterwards and if a lot of people died that day, he would be up until
breakfast. He would be lucky if less than a thousand died for a day.
Unlikely, but one could only hope.
Marcaunon's only free day was on Sundays, since club activities are
on Saturday and there were too many students so he had to split
them into four different time slots to even the group. This took the
whole of his Saturday and he bemoaned at the loss of one of his
rest-day.
He was now on his way to finding a pet shop since he felt bad for
neglecting his adorable boy. With his filled schedule, he only had one
out of seven days to be with Marchosias. He made absolute sure
that he would be there with his little one every Sunday, no matter
what.
Marcaunon didn't want their relationship to suffer so he always tried

hard to find time to sit down and talk for a minimum of half an hour
daily. Sometimes he was too busy and tend to unintentionally ignore
his Chaos even when his little one tried to gain his attention.
A pet, or familiar would keep his boy company whilst Marcaunon was
busy and he could see that Marchosias was getting lonely -even if he
tried hard to conceal it, a mother knows best. Being the caring
person he is, he told Death to keep his little one company whilst he
went out to find a smart snake for Marchosias to have an intellectual
conversation with.
He stopped in front of a shop that sells animals, not bothering to look

at the name -Wizards have no sense in naming- and walked in. The
sales girl greeted him with enthusiasm and he raised a brow at her.
Knockturn shops tend to have a policy of sneering at customers as
their service.
"Good day sir. What sort would you be… interested in?" She winked
and leered at Marcaunon, her eyes roaming his body in an onceover.
He nodded his head as a greeting and waved her off. He was not
staying in her presence any longer. Whilst he made his way towards
the back of the store, he felt eyes on his ass. He was tempted to
gouge her eyes out but refrained. He had grown to be a better
person in his age.
… Who was he kidding, he would gouge her eyes afterwards.
Marcaunon pushed the thought of her away in favor of looking at the

animals throughout the store. It was a sight that made him grimace.
They were mutated and likely experimented on, making their
appearance unappealing and deformed. The animals were quite,
and they looked pitiful. It made his cold heart melt in pity.
He always had a soft spot for animals. Being an experimental toy for
humans was an awful experience he wished to never repeat. It was
better to find a serpent that had yet to break and get the hell out of
this place. It was bringing in bad memories.
The thought of releasing these confined beasts passed his mind but
he firmly shook them out. They would not survive in the wild and
would likely die from starvation. They were similar to housepets, they
would lose their instincts over time when confined. Judging by their
disposition, they not only lost their basic survival instincts but also
their desire to live.
A serpent caught his eye and he stopped in front of a tank. The lids
were firmly shut and he sensed anti-theft wards. A master in
occlumency could easily trick the wards. He eyed the pit viper,
looking at how the dark green scales shine under the lighting. It was
beautiful.
Marcaunon tilted his head and hid his displeasure when he saw
eyelids sewn onto the eyes. He checked to see if the sales girl was
anywhere near him, and luckily she wasn't. Unluckily she was still
ogling his ass.
He really felt violated.
" Hello there beautiful."
The snake turned its head towards him and slithered forward,
stopping just as its nose butted the tank.
" A speaker…" She hissed. Her voice was unmistakably female. "I
have only met one once, are you his hatchling?"
" I doubt it… Who is this Speaker you speak of?" He leaned
forward in interest.
" I know not what he is called, but he smells of earth and death."
" Curious… How old are you, beautiful one?" Earth and death
huh…? He knew of one type of magic that uses earth and dead
bodies.
" We do not count days like you two-legged. But it has been a
long time."
Marcaunon raised a sceptic brow.
" May I ask if you are blind?"
" Yes. The two-legged who smells of putrid toxins removed my

eyes."
" Tsk. How unfortunate. Your eyes may have been just as
beautiful as your scales."
The snake hissed in pleasure at the compliment and Marcaunon

knew that his boy would love this one. They were both vain.
" You are venomous, are you not?"

" Indeed I am."
" Would you like to come with me? My young one would
treasure you like no other."
"… I would be honored, Master."
" Oh no no. Marchosias shall be your Master, not I."
Marcaunon opened the lid and wrapped the 2meter long serpent
around his torso and shoulders. Just as he was about to head
towards the cashier, he moved to another tank that caught his eye.
Inside this particular one, was a lone rattlesnake. Its scales were
black with white spots down to the tips of its tail, and almost reaching
a good length of 2.5meters. Unlike most of the animals here, its eyes
were watching him with attentiveness.
" It has been awhile since any two-legged wizards came into this
weird cave."
Cave? Did the snake mean the store?
" How long have you been in here, gorgeous?"
" Long enough to know that once that disgusting wizard comes,
some will be taken behind before returning without tails or
eyes."
" An awful man." He agreed. "Do you wish to be free from here?"
" I do. But you have chosen another." He -the snake's voice was
too deep to be female- looked sad at that and Marcaunon hummed.
" This charming lady -" Marcaunon rubbed the viper's head with his
thumb, and she hissed in rapture. "is for my hatchling. He gets
lonely and has a fascination with the color green."
Tom was always throwing Avadas everywhere, so he must love the
color green.
" Then… Please take me away from here, Speaker."
" Marcaunon's my name. You're too long for me to carry with

beauty still on my shoulders, so slither near my feet."
" Yes Marcster." He snorted at the combination of his name and

master.
He removed the lid from the tank and the male slithered out onto the
floor and stayed close to him. Marcaunon heard a gasp from the
sales girl and turned to see her pale at the sight of two poisonous
snakes not inside their tanks.
Marcaunon moved towards the cashier and stopped in front of her.
"I'll be taking this two." Without waiting for her to process what he
had said, he wandlessly stunned her and hissed at his companions
to wait for him outside in one of the alleyways.
As soon as their tails were out the door, he turned towards the
repulsive girl and conjured two rusty spoons.
"My thanks for eyeing my ass like a piece of meat." He bared his
teeth in a demented grin and proceeded to spoon out both her eyes.
The salesgirl's face contorted in agony but was unable to move nor
voice out her pain.
Once finished with his handy work he raised one of his blood
covered hand above his head and opened his palm upwards. He
closed his eyes to concentrate and when he snapped them open,
they were glowing with power. The stunned sales girl could only
stand there without knowing her doom was coming.
" Avada Kedavra… Dispersus ." With only these whispered words,
a green light was flashed from his palm and exploded outwards in a
circle, killing all the animals in their prison and the girl in front of him
instantly.
He recalled the time when he had tweaked the Killing Curse

unintentionally when he was in a bout of insanity. His mind was
broken, he could barely see anything but red and the only thing he
wanted was to wipe out the Parasites that had invaded his village
without delay.
This was the result of his will combined with his powerful core.
Marcaunon sighed softly. It would be better for him to put the animals
down without any more pain. Death was something he craved for
when he was imprisoned, and just by looking into those eyes, the
animals were the same.
He was quick to flee from the scene since he knew that the Ministry
would detect the surge of Killing Curse soon. After rushing to one of
the empty alleyways that his serpents were in, he crouched down
and touched both before shadow walking through the wards of
Hogwarts.
Once he emerged from the shadows, he noticed his five year old son
sitting on the couch reading one of his tombs. Without looking,
Marchosias opened his mouth and Marcaunon could hear the
controlled anger in his tone.
"Do you know what day it is?" His voice was soft but mocking.
Marcaunon shifted uncomfortably before making his way towards his
son, but not before signaling the serpents to remain where they
were.
"Hey… I'm sorry." He sat down beside his boy. "I went out -"
" Exactly." He was interrupted as Marchosias turned towards him

without an ounce of emotion on his face, but Marcaunon could
clearly see the anger in those eyes. They were glowing crimson in
rage, much like Voldemort's. "Today was supposed to be my day.
Our day! You promised to be with me for the whole of Sundays."
"I know that, dearest. But -"
"But what!? What is so important for you to break your promise with
me? I am your top priority, Mother! NOTHING and NOBODY
else!" Marcaunon inward winced. His son usually lapsed into
parseltongue only when beyond furious.
He tried to touch his son, but his hands were batted away. The
furnitures were shaking violently due to Marchosias's magic and
Marcaunon swallowed at the pure rage he saw on the five year old's
face.
"I -… That was! I didn't… Let me explain. You know how important
you are to me, Marchosias."
" Explain then." The look he received made him unable to contain a
wince. The hurt was clearly shown and Marcaunon had a hard time
looking into those ruby eyes.
"Look… Marchosias, dear…" Marcaunon pulled his little boy onto his
lap, not minding how his boy struggled futilely. "I know that work has
kept me busy, and I could see that you were getting lonely -don't try
to deny it. Your only company is books and the students don't really
know how to behave around you."
"Then why… Today was supposed to be our day together."

Marchosias's voice was soft and Marcaunon almost regretted
leaving his boy with Death. Speaking of Death….
"Before that, where is Mort? I told him to look after you."
"… I told him to leave."
Marcaunon sighed but left it at that. He hugged his boy tighter.

"I bought a companion for you to keep company whilst I work." He
waved one of his hand and two serpents appeared from within the
shadows. Marchosias stared at the snakes. "I only wanted for you to
have someone, even if it's a snake, to talk with when I'm not around.
Forgive me? Please?"
Marchosias was silent for a long time before he sagged with a sigh.
"Like I could ever continue to be angry with you." His boy whispered
and Marcaunon hugged him tighter. "Next time bring me along. Or
leave a note if you really had to leave."
"Alright, my dearest. I'm sorry." He kissed little Chaos's crown and

shifted until both he and his son were facing the snakes. "Which one
do you prefer?"
"The green one."
"It's a good thing I have already chosen the black then."
"Then why ask?" He sounded annoyed and Marcaunon chuckled at

his grumpy expression.
"But isn't she beautiful?"
"… Indeed she is. What's your name, beautiful? " The viper raised
her head until she was at eye level with little Chaos.
" I have no need for a name back then, Little Hatchling. Will you
give me one?"
Marchosias scowled at being called little.
" Manasa. The Goddess of Serpents."
She hissed in glee and climbed up the sofa so she was nearer to her
new master. Marchosias scratched the top of her head whilst he
turned towards Marcaunon.
"What will you name yours?"
"Hmm… Vasuki. Suki for short."
" Serpent King?" His boy asked.
Marcaunon nodded in confirmation.
"Where did you buy them, Mother?"
"Knockturn Alley. A store that experiments on animals. Humans are

cruel hm?"
"Yess… They are. Especially Muggles ."
"True. Remember Chaos dear, no matter how angry you are, never
hurt an animal. They're wonderful companions and would never
betray you, unlike humans."
His boy agreed and Marcaunon ran his hand through Marchosias's
dark hair. He loves how soft his boy's hair is.
Marcaunon tilted his lips upwards at the shine his boy was sprouting
in his eyes, and hummed. The snakes were wrapped around them
as they hissed out conversations. He watched how his son ran his
hands on both serpents, which led them to hiss in pleasure, and
sighed in content.
Suddenly, he remembered the magical camera Death had bought for

him last year and was quick to summon it. It flew towards him and
stopped just close enough for him to magick it to take a picture of
them, surrounded by two serpents that were large enough to eat his
boy whole.
The picture showed how both mother and son were smiling and he
deemed it the perfect photo to be placed on the fireplace's mantle
together with their other memorable pictures.
Location: London, Counsellor's Office
"Please take a seat, Mr. Potter." A man with short greying red hair,
brown narrowed eyes hidden behind his wired spectacles, and a
comforting smile on his face spoke. He was wearing a blue button-
down shirt and black slacks. In his hands were a pen and notebook.
Marcaunon nodded to the middle aged man and took a seat on the
chair opposite to the counsellor. He relaxed into the soft sofa chair
and waited for the red head to introduce himself.
"My name is Jordan Goulding, and if you are comfortable, I would

like us to call each other using our first names."
"Pleasure to meet you, Jordan. I am comfortable with us being on

first name basis."
"Great. So how are you feeling today, Harry?"
"Fine. The weathers a little hot but I'll survive."
"That's good. Can you tell me the reason as to why you decided that
you required counseling?"
"I needed someone to vent on."
"Most do. Why not confide in one of your friends?"
Marcaunon stared at Jordan for a few seconds before he dropped

his entire mask, his body language changing from friendly to close
off. His smiling façade vanished and his face became unreadable.
He crossed his right leg over the other whilst he placed his right
elbow onto the armrest and his cheek on his closed fist.
"I have no need for… friends ." The last word was spoken with
malice and he gleefully saw Jordan recoil slightly at his tone and 180
personality.
His counselor coughed slightly as he regained his bearings once
more. From the corner of his eyes, Marcaunon saw Jordan write in
his book: Perhaps MPD .
"How about family?"
Marcaunon tilted his lips into a small, barely there smile at the
thought of his little one.
"I have a son."
"Will you tell me about him?"
"Hmm… He's named Marchosias, but I usually call him Chaos for
short. He's the joy of my life… but not someone I could rant with."
"Why did you name him Marchosias?" Jordan looked disturbed, but
tried to hide it. Marcaunon knew that Parasites don't name their
children after demons, so it would be weird to encounter a child with
that particular name.
"Well…" He drawled. "It's family tradition… My little boy was furious

at me the previous day."
"Oh? May I ask why?"
"Yess… For you to understand why, I will have to tell you about my
occupation. I am a Professor. I have a tight and busy schedule, and I
am only free on Sundays. I promised little Chaos that I would remain
with him for the whole of that day, but I broke it… It was only once."
"Why did you break your word?"
"I wanted to buy him a pet. He's lonely you see. Don't get me wrong,
he's an independent child that loves his solitude. But even the most
anti-social person out there would want company instead of books at
times."
"Indeed. Harry, how old is your son?"

"He's five."
"… You left a five year old alone at home?" The pen moved once
more and Marcaunon was tempted to point out that he could see
what the man was writing. Young father; not married? One night
stand?
"Oh no, of course not." He scoffed. Was this man looking down at his
parental skill just because he looked young? "The school I work for
is a private school. Chaos stays with me and attends my classes
during the day. If his Godfather isn't busy, Chaos would remain with
him until I return."
"Does he not disrupt the class? Most five year olds, a boy at that,
would often run around and make noise."
"Chaos isn't your average five year old boy, Jordan. He's a genius.
He loves reading and tends to ignore my students. He doesn't really
care about people much." If Marcaunon ever suggest a thing such a
going to the playground, Marchosias would rather plot his death than
play with other children.
"Oh..?" Jordan looked worried. Social issues might develop from

son; Sociopath?
"Nothing to worry about." He waved off dismissively.
"If you say so…" Jordan looked unsure but sighed and moved on.
"I'm sure he was angry because he wanted his father to prioritize him
over everything else."
"I see… He is rather possessive."
"P-possessive? No no Mr. Po-Harry. I would not go far as to say that

he is possessive… Perhaps you should bring him along with you
next time? He might… develop some problems with his social life
when he grows older."
"If you say so, Jordan. I am aware that my son is a psychopath, not
a sociopath… Well, I think he's not a sociopath. He never does feel
guilty."
"Wha… What…?"
Marcaunon scowled at the man. He hated repeating.
"My son is a psychopath, not a sociopath. He tends to kill first, ask

questions later."
"Kill!?" Jordan sputters.
"In a manner of speaking of course. Before we get side-tracked, I

would like to talk about my school experience."
"Ah.. Erm.. Go ahead, Harry." Try to persuade Mr. Potter to bring son
next session.
"Thank you. Now we start with eleven year old mini-me getting a
letter for children with special talents. It was an invitation to a school,
the very same school that I'm currently teaching by the way. I was so
excited at the prospect of leaving my relatives for the whole year. But
before I could accept, my fat lard of an Uncle decided to tear the
letter into pieces."
"What did you do?" Problems at home during childhood.
"You must understand that I have a very short temper when I was
younger. I was so angry that I decided to put a bottle of laxative into
the soup I was cooking, and gave them to my relatives."
"Relatives?"
"My Walrus of an Uncle, my Horse of an Auntie, and a baby whale

with blonde hair… My Cousin."
"You decided to use a drug that facilitates the evacuation of bowels

on your whole family due to your Uncle?"
"Indeed. I was hold grudges like no tomorrow. Moving on, my
relatives " Marcaunon emphasized the word relative because they
are definitely not family. "went to watch TV whilst I, being the good
boy I was, cleaned the dishes. A few minutes later dozen of letters
were flying around in the living room. I snitched one when my
relatives' stomach decided that there was a problem."
"Problem… he says." The man whispered softly to himself and

Marcaunon decided to ignore him.
"I sent my acceptance. The next day, a bat… Oh excuse me, a man
wearing black from head to toe, with the resemblance of a humanoid
bat, took me to buy my schooling supplies. He was a rather hateful
man. He sneered a lot and made it his job to let me know that I
wasn't even worthy of being used-gum underneath his shoes."
"One of your Professors?" Verbal abusive Professor. Might lead to

emotional problems.
"Correct. He -we'll call him Bat- teaches the same subject I currently
teach. I found out I was rich by the way. I used to survive on hand-
me-downs from the Blonde baby whale. Anyway, the first year of
school wasn't so bad if you exclude a Professor wanting to kill me."
"Excuse me? Your Professor wanted to kill you? Was it… Bat?" Case
of Paranoia?
"Oh no, Bat's my protector actually. We will go back to him later. For
now, this Professor teaches us Defence. He stutters a lot and wears
a turban. His garlic perfume was vile as well. Let us call him Squirrel,
since his name and mannerism resembles as such. I made two
friends and we became known as the Golden Trio. An awful name I
know."
"Why were you and your friends called the Golden Trio?"
"Because of the Headmaster -we shall call him Bumblebee by the

way. They think I'm his Golden Boy . He would call me into his office
once a week just to offer a lemon drop or something. It always made
my mind fuzzy afterwards. Anyway, I found out that Squirrel wanted
to steal a ruby stone that was hidden by Bumblebee in the school for
his Master.
"With the help of my two friends, Pig -he had no table manners at all-
and Bushy -her hair was constantly puffy- I made it to the last room
that holds the Ruby Stone, and confronted Squirrel. To put it simply,
he was possessed by his Master and I killed him."
"… I'm sorry I thought I heard you say that Squirrel was possessed
and that you killed your Professor."
"Nothing's wrong with your hearing, I assure you I did kill him. I burnt
him alive actually. It felt good to hear him scream and trash on the
floor. Bumblebee congratulated me on a job well done and we all
moved on with our lives. I'm sure something was wrong with him
since he told an eleven year old boy how killing is okay, but I don't
mind. I mean, I have a rather cruel streak when I was young, which
vanished once I stepped into Bumblebee's office. He placed
personality compulsions on me for being a hero-complex kind of guy
with a martyr streak. Luckily I still had no morals on killing. The
blame should go to my relatives by the way."
"Wait wait wait, Harry. Let me get this straight. You went to a school
for special children, met a Professor who loves to wear black and
verbal abuses you, learnt that you're rich, found out the school you're
in is guarding a Ruby, a Professor wants this Ruby and his Master
wants to kill you… And you killed your defence professor by burning
him alive… Also your Headmaster congratulated you on having killed
a person he hired!?" In his own world with overactive imagination or
delusional. Doesn't mind killing - homicidal? Pyromaniac? Sadist?
"Well… When you put it that way, it does sound weird. Additional info
is that I almost got eaten by a smelly Troll and a Giant three-headed
dog called Fluffy." Thought of Cerberus a guarding of helll - having
suicidal thought?
"…" Jordan just nodded with a blank face and waved for him to
continue.
"Let us move on to second year shall we? And I have a total of

seven years in that school."
"Go ahead, Harry."
"Thank you Jordan. Now… Second year was actually quite a

dangerous year for me. A blonde man who is in love with his hair
placed a cursed diary into Pig's sister's bag when they were
shopping, and brought it into the school. Let's call her Slut."
"Pig is one of the friends you made in first year yes?"
"Yess. Slut, being the stupid girl she was, decided to write in an
unknown diary that writes back because it's possessed by a soul.
She poured her feelings into the object and it was draining her of her
life-force, so she became weak. I found out that I could speak
another language and was shunned by the whole school because
said language was something only the Master spoke. He's
considered evil. Hmm… Let us call the Master Voldie."
"Why would they shun a language you speak? Can't they learn?"
Obsessed with spirits and possession.
"No, that language can only be spoken if you're family, and if you're
not a part of it, you can't learn it."
"You're related to… Voldie?" Having family issues.
"In a way I am. Moving on, the diary possessed Slut and made her
open The Chamber of Secrets. And soon, students were petrified
and the school was on the verge of closing. Slut went missing one
day and Pig dragged me to find her with our new Defence Professor
Peacock… We told him Slut was missing and brought him to the
entrance of the Chamber. After entering, the Professor pointed at us
Pig's weapon and decided to make us lose our memories. Of course
he failed cause… he's a failure, and knocked himself out. The walls
soon collapsed leading to my and Pig's seperation… I moved on and
saw Slut on the dirty floor. I was tempted to kick her actually."
"Why?" Social issues. Tends to solve everything with violence.
"She kept on touching me inappropriately. It was disturbing to see an

eleven year old trying to seduce a twelve year old. As much as I
would have liked to leave her to rot underground, the compulsion
kicked in and I rushed foolishly towards her. The soul inside the diary
was out of its container and we talked for a bit. I, being forced into an
imprudent boy, insulted the soul and he called out a giant snake. It
was highly venomous and almost made me shit myself. Are you
keeping up?"
"Yes… I think I am." Confirmed MPD. This 'Compulsion' is his nicer

personality.
"Good. I then slew the ancient serpent with an equally ancient sword
and stab the possessed diary with the serpent's fang. The soul let
out a tormented anguished scream and I relished in it. After a while, I
saved Slut and found out that Peacock is in Hospital due to his mind
being regressed into that of a toddler."
"That was… quite an adventure. Did you feel guilty about Peacock
being sent to the hospital?"
"Indeed. No, why would I?" No feelings of remorse or guilt.
"Ah I forgot to mention that I was almost eaten by the snake I killed
and a mob of giant spiders that speak in perfect English." Has a
thing about being eaten alive. A traumatize experience from
childhood? Perhaps a bigger than average animal bit him?
"… What happened afterwards?"
"I went back to my relatives and blew up my Aunt."

"Sorry?"
"Walrus's sister was being rude towards my dead parents and I got
angered. So I blew her up. No lasting damage apart from her mind,
no worries." Confirmed pyromaniac.
"My third year in the school wasn't filled with that much action apart
from a serial killer breaking from prison. I found out he was my
Godfather and we got along splendidly. His desire for revenge is
almost as great as mine, since he went all the way to sneak inside a
highly guarded school to hunt down my parent's betrayer. The Rat
almost got killed but escaped due to the Prison Guards and the Bat
Professor." Murder/violence runs through the family?
"Why is killing involved every time…" Jordan whispered softly as he

continued to scribble onto is notebook. Marcaunon ignored him
without batting an eye.
"I saved my Godfather from a horde of soul-sucking bastards but lost

my chance of escaping my relatives due to Bumblebee's constantly
denying to provide my Godfather's trial to prove him innocent. Have I
told you how much I despise my Headmaster? No? Well, I despise
him."
"Why would he not want to clear your Godfather's name if he's

innocent?"
"Because he doesn't want to lose his weapon. In addition, I almost

got eaten by a werewolf and my soul sucked by a Dementor. Once
again, I am traumatized when that bloody wolf opened its mouth big
enough for me to see oh so sharp canines. As much as I would love
to tell you how traumatized I am, my Fourth year was one of the
worst." Delusions of self-importance (a hero maybe). Confirmed
being bitten by a wolf thus traumatized and imagines himself being
almost eaten.
"Go on." Jordan said softly, trying to provide comfort .

"My name was forcefully entered into a tournament that approves
dying! My fellow schoolmates bullied me fiercely when I was chosen
out of many. I was also the youngest. Only people from 17 and
above could enter, but of course, Harry Potter defies all. I competed
against my will, alongside three more… Whose name I have
forgotten. One of them died at the final round actually, so he isn't that
important." Misunderstood, bullied and abused by peers. No care
about human lives.
"Did you feel sorrow?"
"Sorrow huh… Very well, I shall try next time."
"Wait… What?"
"I'll kill someone after this session so I could try to feel sorrow
afterwards."
"No wait that wasn't-"
"I was taken into a graveyard… miles and miles away from school,
just to be tied up to a tombstone and witness a naked man climbing
out of a giant cauldron. Voldie was ashen, not pale, but ashen. He
had no body hair, and nose. He was skinny beyond belief and his red
eyes were glaring at me with pure malice and hatred. Of course
since he was naked, I saw everything, including his dick -which was
massive by the way- thus leading to severe traumatization, and the
burning of my retinas." Sexual frustrations. Homosexual… No wait
he has a son, bisexual. In love with 'Voldie' but still hate him, thus
leading to degrading his appearance but wanting to still see him
naked - was Voldie one of his school bullies?
"D-did he… Do anything sexual to you?"
"Oh Merlin no! Get your mind out of the gutter! The only writhing I did
was on the floor as he tortured me into madness. I escaped with
pure luck and when reported back that Voldie was the one who killed
the other competitor, I was called insane. Many believe that Voldie is
dead you see. Ignorant sheep. Anyway, which creature wanted to eat
me that year…? Care to guess?" A school bully that died (or
murdered). Others know so called him insane for thinking a dead
person is alive? His obsession with spirits - wants to revive his
crush?
"Err… A lion?"
"Hm… Not really, it was worst. A giant fire-breathing lizard, several

sea-creatures, and horrible giant monsters that roam the maze."
"That's… quite a lot."
"Indeed. Let's move on to fifth year. Many still believe that I was
insane, so I was of course isolated. I had earned a lot of detentions
that year due to the new Defence Professor, Toad. She tortured me
in her detention."
"What!? Did you report her?" Abusive Professors or extreme dislike

for authority figures.
"Nobody believed me. They wrote me off as insane remember?"
"I can't believe that…" Definitely misunderstood.
"Neither can I. I am clearly sound in mind."
"…"
"I was forced by Bushy to lead a rebellion and created a group to

teach Defence. I was strong even for my age, so I became their
teacher. Not much happened, but I was laughing gleefully when our
dear Professor Toad became traumatized when a group of centaurs
dragged her off to who knows where before returning her. She was
incompetent so nobody cared when she left. Lastly, I lost my
Godfather's life due to my daft -compulsion- and brash behavior. For
our annual eating Harry moment, stay away from giants. I almost got
eaten by one. Even if he was one of my Professor's half-brother."
"… Your school hires weird… teachers. Do you feel guilty about your
Godfather's death?" Blames his 'nicer' personality for his Godfather's
death.
"Bumblebee is clearly tossing the school to the dogs. Rumor has it

that Voldie was rejected by Bumblebee when he applied for Defence,
and placed a curse. Every year the Defence Professors would die a
gruesome death or retire due to trauma or get fired due to
incompetence. For guilt? No. The only thing I felt was lost -my
chance of being removed from my relatives were gone now."
"I see…" No feelings of remorse or guilt. Could be considered a

sociopath or unable to feel anything after doing wrong. Psychopath
still pending.
"Yess, I know what you're feeling. Bumblebee is clearly not

Headmaster material. Of course I trashed his office once due to my
anger. He was keeping information from me so it's fair. I had the right
to know. Anyway, Bumblebee was murdered by Bat and the school
grieved for his death. I remembered feeling giddy that day, but I
didn't know why."
"Do you know now?" Has a love for death/suffering.
"Yess I do. Bumblebee had me drinking and eating things that made
my mind unclear. When I was a boy, I was ruthless and would break
other people's bones if they displeased me. Ever since I started the
school, I was kind and friendly. It was disturbing and I wondered why
I changed so much. Now I know of course. Let us move onto more
important subject… such as finding out I was raised as a sacrificial
lamb for the Greater Good -does wonders to one's mentality huh?-
after Bat got killed by Voldie. Bat Professor has always protected me
from the shadows due to an oath he made. He would protect me at
all cost due to my mother. He was childhood friends with her. Who
would've known?"
"Even a bitter man has a heart." Confirmed psychopath.

"Hm. Perhaps. That year I was nearly eaten by animated rotten
corpse. They were inside a lake and almost succeeded in taking
some of my flesh off."
"… Zombies?" Confirmed delusional.
"You could say that. For my last and final year… I'll just cut down to
the point where another giant fire-breathing reptile almost ate me.
Seven years of wide open mouths looming over you will give anyone
nightmares. I assure you that I was severely traumatized by the
saliva that covered my entire frame when it roared. Apart from my
experience of being live bait, I killed Voldie due to pure luck and
grieved for him a minute later. Yess I know, weird. I at first enjoyed
my accidental victory, but soon was overcome with devastation. I
wanted him back alive even though he had killed thousands of
people. Does that make me evil?"
"Well… Why do you want him alive?"
"He's my soul-brother."
"What?"
"Now tell me, my dear Counselor, what did you learn about my
school years?"
"… That you were nearly eaten by creatures with razor sharp teeth
each year?"
"Close, but no. Since you got it wrong, I should bring you to my
dungeons. I'm lacking a playmate you see. As much as I love my
little Chaos, I need to relieve some stress from all the paperwork I'm
doing. I wouldn't want to accidently yell at him… Even though his
mood has greatly improved after I got him his own familiar, he still
gives me the glare-of-doom once in a while."
"What?"
"Hm let's go."
"What?"
"Can you only say What? Parasites these days."
Marcaunon stood up and stretched before snapping his fingers

together. Jordan was bound and gagged in a second with his eyes
wide open. The red head squirmed and looked around in panic,
before a butterfly landed on him and he disappeared.
Marcaunon gave a very demented slasher smile and cackled as he

disappeared from the office, and didn't stop laughing even as he
appeared from the shadows whilst making his way towards his
captive underneath his cottage.
A/N:
For any grammatical and spelling errors, I apologize since my first

language is NOT English. I have no Beta as well, so live with my
pathetic grammar if you must.
Thank you all for the awesome reviews! I'll answer three questions
that are frequently asked.
1. When will Voldemort appear?
-Still many chapters away I'm afraid. He's busy traveling the world
and gathering followers to appear just yet. We don't want to bother
him just yet.
2. Will Chaos be finding out Marcaunon is in fact, Harry Potter?
-Of course he will. I mean, Tom's a genius. When will he find out is
the correct question you should be asking.
3. Will Chaos's sperm donor be appearing in the future?

-Yess. We all can't wait for the confrontation between father and son
now can we? He'll appear in the near future.
Story recommendation for today: The Nightmare Man by Tiro. It's

about Harry being shipped into Azkaban and time-travelled a
thousand or so years back. He's violent, cruel, blood thirsty, playful,
and powerful. Tons of torture and killings, and if you read my fic, I'm
sure you'll love what Tiro writes. Sad to say that it's not TMR/HP, but
Tom idolizes Harry and Harry himself respects Tom. If you squint
really really really hard, perhaps you could see the pairing. Sigh…
Wish it's TMR/HP *mumbles about unfairness*
Rainbows and butterflies,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 6
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
" Spells"
Chapter 6: School and Reunion
1965
Location: Hogwarts, Dungeons
Marcaunon grimaced as he tried (and failed) to scratch the

unreachable itch behind his mind. He knew that he was forgetting
something important, but what was it? He suspected it had
something to do with his progeny, and that made his grimace turn
into a scowl.
With a defeated sigh, he continued towards the Great Hall, where he
would meet up with his little one for dinner. Marchosias had all but
run off to the restriction section after he had given permission during
lunch, for only a day though.
He wasn't really worried about his little one roaming the castle
unsupervised, since Manasa and Suki (he made sure that they were
small enough so that Marchosias could carry them) would be with
him at all times. Marcaunon preferred his familiar to remain together
with his son due to the Headmaster. Slytherin descendants could be
used as a weapon against Voldemort after all -not that Chaos would
even want to be on the Light's side.
"P-professor Gaunt?" A female's voice stuttered from behind him.

Marcaunon plastered a polite smile onto his face and turned.
"Yess?"
A Hufflepuff girl twirled a lock of her chestnut hair in a nervous

gesture as she cleared her throat.
"Are you alright?" Her face was an amazing shade of red.
"E-excuse me?" She blinked.
"Your face is red. Do you have a fever? Do you need me to bring you
to see Madam Pomfrey?"
"No!" She squeaked as she turned crimson. He could practically see

the smoke rising from her face. "I mean, no sir! Looking at you
makes me hot. No wait I didn't mean… ! That wasn't…"
Marcaunon inward frowned in confusion. Why would looking at him

make her feel hot? He wasn't wearing that much clothing, since he
forgone his robe.
"Daddy?" The innocent little voice made him spin around and look
downwards. Marchosias was standing just an arm's length away, his
arms hugging a tome almost half his size. His hood was up, making
the blue dragon horns attached at the top stand out. Marcaunon
almost cooed at how adorable his son is; he often wore those cute
animal hoodies Marcaunon had bought for him.
"Hello there little one. How was your trip to the library?"
"Good. I found this interesting tome to read. Was there something

she needed?" Marcaunon missed his son's narrowing of the eyes
when he turned back to the girl in question.
"I… I was just wondering if you could tutor me, sir… Since the O. are
coming."
"Ah. I'm having a tutor session the next day with the Ravenclaws. In
the library at noon. You may join us, if that's alright with you?"
She looked a little disappointed but smiled at him nonetheless.
"Alright. Thank you Professor Gaunt." The Puff bowed before

hurrying away.
Marcaunon shook his head and sighed. Being a Professor was tiring.
"Chaos?" He turned towards his son. "Let me carry that for you."
His little boy thanked him and they continued their way towards the
Hall, hand in hand.
"Marcaunon, I've been wondering for a while…" McGonagall spoke

suddenly from beside him.
Marcaunon's fork was half way up his mouth when he turned

towards her with a questioning tilt of his head. A habit he couldn't get
rid of no matter how much he tried.
"Why isn't little Marchosias not attending Elementary school? He's

already five is he not?"
Ah… So that was what his itch was about. What bad parenting skill
he has. Marcaunon groaned at his stupidity. Whilst he was berating
himself, he missed how Marchosias had frozen in place with a look
of incredulity.
"I forgot! I knew there was something I had forgotten. Thank you for
reminding me Minerva…" He sighed and faced his little one, who
looked a little too pale for his liking. Was he alright?
"What's wrong? Are you ill?" He touched his son's forehead.
"No."
"Well alright. Anyway, I'll have to sign you up for primary school."
"Daddy, I don't think I would fit in with other children."
"Nonsense, you haven't been with others your age to know that yet."
"I already know how to read, write and do mathematics. I don't really
need to go school. We can just say I was homeschooled… which is
true since we do live in a school."
"Chaos… Name me five people you've converse with today."
"You, Minnie, Filly, Mana and Suki."
Marcaunon deadpanned alongside with McGonagall.
"Marcaunon I'm worried."
"So am I, Minerva. So am I…"
"Mr. Gaunt? The Principal will see you now." A woman with dark
wavy hair called out from behind her desk.
Marcaunon thanked her and entered the office with his gloomy son
in hand. Marchosias had been acting more than a little irritable lately,
especially after he had called the School Principal to enroll his little
one into school.
Marchosias had been throwing tantrums that would make even

Voldemort look like an angel. Just to name a few: his wardrobe was
burnt crispy, their bedchambers had looked like a tornado had
passed through, his hair had been turned into a brilliant shade of
fuchsia, and Death's cloak was transfigured into a green and white
striped bikini when It had Its guard down-the entity had shrieked
quite like a girl and went missing for days.
He had lost his patience after his stack of Deathfiles became

incinerated -he had worked the whole night to complete that.
Marcaunon then confronted his moody child and after their
talk(screaming match), Marchosias had finally accepted that he
would have to attend Muggle Elementary school since there were
none for Wizards and Witches.
"Principal Skinner, thank you for allowing us to meet you."
"It's no problem, Mr. Gaunt. Please take a seat."
Both mother and son seated themselves on the coach whilst the
man sat opposite to them. Seymour Skinner is the Principal of Towne
Private School, with greying brown hair, and dark eyes. He wore a
lavender shirt underneath his blue suit, and orange tie.
"First of all, I would like to welcome you and your son to Towne
Private School, Elementary division."
"Thank you, sir."
"Before we move on to what this school expects from young

Marchosias, you said something about wanting your son to have an
aptitude test for Second Grade, Mr. Gaunt?"
Marchosias's head snapped towards him at the mention of Second

grade, and Marcaunon hid his glee behind his serene mask.
Marcaunon was still holding a grudge against his son for setting his
Deathfiles in flames. He knew that Marchosias wanted to be in fifth
grade so that he didn't have to deal with drooling children and could
graduate in a year -lest he killed them all with his accidental Magic.
He knew that he was being petty, spiteful, and pretty much

immature, but he couldn't bring himself to care. La vendetta es una
minestra che se mangia fredda[1]. Insert evil cackle here.
"Yess… I know that parents usually brag about their children, but my
son… is different than any average five year old child. To put it
bluntly, Principal, I do not wish to bore him with the teachings of
Kindergarten."
"If you say so, Mr. Gaunt." Skinner's tone was full of skepticism and
resignation. Marcaunon wondered if parents usually overestimated
their child's abilities… But he highly doubted that Tom Riddle, child
and magical prodigy, could fail a test below the level of a college
student -if he studied Muggle subjects of course.
Skinner placed a few pieces of paper on the table in front of

Marchosias and handed his little boy a pencil.
"Ten minutes, no more I'm afraid." Marchosias picked a sheet up and

scanned it. Marcaunon became wary when a manic glint appeared
inside those beautiful ruby eyes.
Maybe he should tinker with the Principal's head a little and force
him to place Marchosias in Second Grade… No… He should be a
good example of a parent and Mini-mort would rather eat
Dumbieboob's Lemon Drops than make himself look less intelligent.
Why was his boy so prideful…?
… Oh right, ex-Dark Lord.
"Really, what were you thinking …"Marcaunon gritted as he kicked

a stray pebble out of the way.
"You should've just placed me into Fifth grade like we've planned."
"I applied you for Muggle School because of your anti-social

tendencies . For you to make at least a friend with your own age
group." They both glared at each other, ruby meeting scarlet head-
on.
"Like you're one to talk, Mother . You don't even have friends, only
allies ."
He couldn't say anything to that. Marchosias was right, he was

indeed friend-less. Marcaunon turned on his heels, his cloak
billowing behind him as he strode towards his House's common
room. He had duties to attend to.
1965
Location: Towne School, Elementary Section, Class 5-A
Torture. What he was experiencing now was pure, agonizing torture.

Even after a month of attending Muggle School with eleven year
olds, he could feel his intelligence melting away from sheer stupidity.
What they learnt were so basic that he literally fell asleep once the
teacher starts droning.
He recalled the time that he was an actual eleven year old boy. Due
to the Orphanage having a financial crisis (money spent on Mrs.
Cole's liquor), many of the children there were unable to attend
school. He was one of them. When he still didn't yet know about
Magic, he went to the library daily and thanks to his eidetic memory,
memorized books that no other eleven year old could hope to
understand. He even read the dictionary to improve his grammar and
learn foreign languages.
He had already planned how he would try to obtain scholarship to a

good University when he grew older, but his plans were discarded
due to him being enrolled into Hogwarts -and becoming a Dark Lord
after graduation. Marchosias could only shake his head at how his
classmates -he spat the word with venom, even in his mind- do
nothing but goof around. Not all, but majority. Due to him being
enrolled into a Private School, the children here were spoilt rotten by
their parents. It was Draco Malfoys Muggle edition.
Unlike in Hogwarts, the teachers here were having a hard time

controlling the students. Their lessons were so boring that the
students would fold paper airplanes to entertain themselves. Now
that he compared how eleven year old Muggles and Magicals
behave in their Schooling environment, he preferred staying with the
latter (obviously) -even when they were calling him a Mudblood . At
least Wizards and Witches gave their Professors the respect they
deserved -they were learning Magic after all.
Speaking of Marcaunon… His mother was depressed thanks to

Marchosias's scathing words and actions for the whole of his time
attending school.
Now that he had time to actually sit down and think (nothing else to
do in class anyway) after a week of giving the silent treatment to his
mother, Marchosias admitted that he was being a git to his caring
parent. Not something he liked to admit, even to himself.
He knew how hard it was for his mother to raise him as a single
parent -even if they were rich. Marcaunon worked hard to make
Marchosias content, giving books and teaching him things that even
he himself didn't know. Marcaunon's workload was a lot, no thanks to
Dumbledore. Teaching all the students (first to seventh years, he
should really get an assistant), marking essays, making lesson
plans, club activities, Head of the House duties, and mountains of
(still unknown) paperwork he received from Mort on a daily basis.
Even with his amazingly filled schedule, Marcaunon still made time
for Marchosias. He recalled a time when his mother hadn't had time
to sleep for a week, yet he still stayed awake for the whole of
Sunday just because Marchosias told him to do so.
He actually felt guilty for denying his mother sleep. He, Lord
Voldemort, ex-Dark Lord, felt guilty. And now, he felt like a bloody git
for treating his gentle (to him) mother like dirt.
Just because he couldn't control his temper, he said withering and

downright scornful things to Marcaunon that he immediately
regretted. He deserved to be slapped, punched, even kicked at, but
the only thing Marcaunon did was bury his face into his hands. He
walked away from his mother then.
That night when he performed his nightly memory sorting, he noticed

things that he never noticed before.
He noticed how his mother looked hurt when Marchosias mocked

him. He noticed how his mother forced a smile when Marchosias
scorned him. He noticed how his mother endured it when he showed
his contempt. He noticed how his mother did everything just so he
could see his downright ungrateful child smile -even a small one
counted. Lastly, he noticed how his mother sobbed ever so softly
when Marchosias walked away from him.
It made his non-existing heart quiver and ache.
With a never seen before determined expression on his face, he

made up his mind. Marchosias would apologize. Not something he
had ever done genuinely, but to mend bridges with the only person
he treasured? He would.
As usual, Marcaunon, his beautiful mother, waited for him at the

entrance of his Muggle School. Marcaunon studied his mother's
strained smile, his worn out appearance and the bags forming
underneath those dimmed scarlet eyes. They stood out in contrast to
Marcaunon's pale skin. Even with how exhausted his mother looked
to be, heads would turn towards him without him doing anything but
just standing there. Not even Marchosias could deny how alluring his
mother appeared. Luckily, his feelings for his mother were purely
platonic. It would be awkward if he wanted to bed the person whom
had given birth to him.
"Marchosias. How was school?" That was another thing he hated.

Ever since he yelled at Marcaunon two days ago, Mother had started
calling him by his full name, not those endearing nicknames that he
secretly cherished.
"As good as being with Muggles could be." He snarled

unintentionally. The smile became more strained and Mother flinched
at his tone. He instantly berated himself for losing control (again).
"Eh… Let's head home, shall we?" Marcaunon hesitated in taking his
hand, but did so and walked to an empty alleyway.
Once they appeared outside of Hogwarts's massive gates, his hand

was released as if burnt, and they walked silently towards their
shared chambers.
Just as they reached the portrait of their ancestor, Salazar, he

grabbed a fistful of his mother's robe sleeve. This action made
Marcaunon jump in surprise and turned towards him with guarded
eyes. Probably to prepare himself for another round of a screaming
from Marchosias. He breathed in deeply and turned to look into
Marcaunon's eyes. He wanted to convey his absolute sincerity.
"Mother… I…" He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I would like to

apologize. My actions were -"
He was cut off by Marcaunon's sudden embrace. He didn't hesitate

in returning it. Marcaunon was on his knees and he could feel how
his mother's whole body was trembling. He ignored Salazar's dark
gaze from within the portrait and the wetness he felt on his shoulder.
The only thing he did was to continue comforting his only treasured
parent.
He swore to himself to never hurt his most cherished person in his

life ever again.
24 th August 1966
Location: Hogwarts
Marcaunon stood with a serene expression on his face, cursing the

Headmaster in all the languages he knew -and boy that's a lot of
languages. That bloody old man had changed the password to the
meeting room and didn't even bother to inform him! He was already
late since he had to ensure his bookworm of a son not enter the
Library just yet, lest they get screeched at by that harpy.
Madam Norma Pince, Irma Pince's mother, was a strict woman and
had given specific instructions that nobody enter her Library until she
deemed it appropriate enough. After hearing the news, Marchosias
imitated a Basilisk for a few long hours before Marcaunon had had
enough and threatened to force him into wearing glasses. Many
people were uncomfortable with his boy's glare, and for a five going
six year old, oh he could glare alright. A great definition of If looks
could Kill.
"Marc?" He was startled out of his musings by a female's voice and

turned around, only to come face-to-face with his fellow Puff. "Are
you a Professor?"
"Pomona? What're you doing here?" He took a step back and

observed the slightly plump woman. Pomona Sprout had grown from
her childish looks and into a fine woman (big breast), albeit on the
chubby side.
"I got accepted as an Assistant Professor for Herbology. And you?"

Her eyes roamed his body and finally stopped on his face. "Still as
beautiful as ever, hm Marc?"
"Pomona! At least call me handsome." He huffed and crossed his

arms with a scowl. "I'm the residence Potions' Master of Hogwarts.
Do you perhaps know the password? It seems they have forgotten to
inform me of the change…"
She giggled at him and nodded.
"Handsome doesn't really suit you, dear Marc! Congratulations on

getting the job you wanted by the way. Plantain. We should catch up
afterwards."
The portrait opened and they moved inside, the other staff members
already seated. He whispered his thanks to his fellow Puff and
seated himself to the Headmaster's left. He hated this arrangement,
but Dumbles seemed to have taken a liking to him over the years.
"Now that everyone has arrived, I bid you all a good afternoon!" The
old man spoke after Sprout had seated herself beside their
Herbology Professor, Beery. They each mumbled their greetings to
the eccentric Headmaster.
"Apologies to have called you in on a Sunday on such short notice.

As many of you should know, there was an attack on Hogsmeade
the previous day. The Minister had invited me over on Monday, and
there would be no other time to conduct another meeting since you
would all be busy preparing for your classes."
"The Prophet had yet released any information pertaining to the

attack, were there casualties, Albus?" Rolanda Hooch, the Flying
Instructor asked with worry.
"None that were fatally wounded. Just a few scratches."
"Was it terrorists?" Beery questioned, looking quite nervous.
"I have my suspicion… That it's a newly rising Dark Lord."
The staffs gasped and started firing question after question towards
Bumblebee. Marcaunon hid a frown. Was Voldemort back from his
travels? Did he have enough followers to boldly make an attack in
Hogsmeade? Wasn't he supposed to be hiding until the 70s? So
many questions yet he had no answers. Perhaps it was time for him
to-
"You're unusually silent on this, Marcaunon my boy." The
Headmaster whispered to him.
"Just thinking, Albus. Were there any marks or signs, for you to
deduct it the work of a budding Dark Lord? Were they similar to
Grindelwald's…?"
The old goat hummed as he stroked his beard, his twinkling blue
eyes sparkling more at his question. How disturbing…
"No, but the group targeted shops that sell Muggle artifacts."
"They could just be a group of men that hate Muggles, Albus.

Perhaps they have a uniform of some kind? Something to make
them unique from the rest?"
"They wore blank white masks, but that was all."
"Blank? No patterns…? None at all?"
They continued to whisper for some time before the Headmaster

silenced the Staff and continued with the meeting. He introduced
Sprout as their newest member, alongside the DADA Professor -
which he forgot the name soon after. Nobody said anything but they
knew that he would not last long.
The meeting went on for another hour before they were dismissed.
Marcaunon stretched in his seat and just as he made to stand, an
aged hand held him in place by the shoulder. He raised a question
brow at the Headmaster but received only a kind grandfatherly smile
in return -he resisted the urge to claw the Headmaster's face. They
waited until the last of the Professors exited before Dummiepork
spoke.
"My dear boy," He hid a glare behind his polite smile. "I would like
you to accompany me to the Ministry tomorrow." He plastered on a
confused expression and the old man elaborated. "Minister Leach
has a sample of an unknown potion used in that attack. One of the
Aurors managed to snatch one of the vials before the culprits
portkey-ed away. They need a Potion's Master to make an antidote
since many were poisoned."
"It would be my pleasure to accompany you, Albus. Is there anything

else?"
"Nothing else, my boy. Pass little Marchosias my regards."
"I will. Good day to you, Albus."
Bumblybitch inclined his head just as Marcaunon exited the room.

He grimaced at the thought of spending any more time with that
barmy old coot -insanity was contagious. Just as he was about to
find his boy, Sprout appeared in front of him with Marchosias in
hand.
"Why did you remain behind, Marc? I thought you've left and went to
search for you!" She whined and placed her free hand on her hip.
"Albus wanted to speak to me in private. My apologies Pomona.

Hello there Chaos dear."
"Hi dad." Was the reluctant greeting.
"Why don't we catch up whilst we're having lunch?"
"Sounds good. My, how little Marchosias has grown. He looks

exactly like you, Marc."
"He is my son, Pomona."
A/N:
[1] Revenge is a dish best served cold.
Thank you for all your reviews, fellow readers! I'm glad many of you
love little Chaos and Marcaunon. Since a lot of you wanted to see
Voldemort, I decided that he should be returning to British soil right
about now. We'll be having some action soon!~
I sometimes wonder if readers follow me just so they could see what

story I recommend in my next chapter… Insert sweatdrop here. Oh
and please take a look at a new fic I posted, The Tale of a Mad
Inventor if you have free time!
Story recommendation for today: The Game by Rendered Reversed.

This fic is about… Well… A game. A three man party who goes to
quests, fighting mobs, grinding, being lucky, the usual gaming stuff
like competition and all that. With Scarred the warrior with absurdly
too much luck, VolDeMort the bad ass PVP champion, and HBPrince
with his poisonous tongue, this fic would make you roll on the floor
laughing. Non-magical AU. TMR/HP pairing.
Rainbows and Honeycreams,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 7
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
" Spells"
Chapter 8: Malfoys, Malfoys… Oh and look, more Malfoys!
August 1966
Location: Ministry of Magic
They both walked towards the Minister's office contemplative silence.

Marcaunon didn't bother trying to guess what the old coot was
thinking about -probably the makings of Lemon Drops or what rot.
He didn't notice that they have arrived until they were ushered into
the office by a blushing secretary. She was staring lecherously at
Dumblewhore and Marcaunon had to hold back a grimace -she
should learn occlumency and keep those thoughts to herself.
"Albus, I'm glad you could make it." Nobby Leach, the Minister of
four years greeted with a broad smile. The man has bags
underneath his dark eyes, laughs lines all over his face and goatee.
He looked rather fit for a fifty something year old man with a desk job
-though there was a bald spot on his greying head.
"Nobby! How are you, my friend?" They took a seat by the fireplace
(different seats!) with Leach directly in front of them.
"Sadly tiring. Too many howlers for my liking."
"Pardon me, Minister. Lord Malfoy and Head Auror Moody have
arrived." The secretary announced after knocking on the door.
"I hope you don't mind having them with us, Albus. Abraxas is here
to represent the Wizengamot, and Moody is the Head Auror."
"Of course not, Nobby." The Headmaster's twinkle had dimmed a

little. Marcaunon would've smirked at the old man, but he was
dreading the encounter.
"Send them in, Ms. Sina."
The door opened and Leach greeted the newcomers with a smile.
They were ushered to their seats, with Malfoy sitting to the left of
him, and Mood to Bumblebee's right.
Abraxas was a tall man with long blonde hair and grey eyes. The
blond was more muscular than his son, Lucius, and has the same
handsome face that all other Malfoys have. He wore an elegant dark
colored robe (the material looked expensive) that fit his body,
showing how fit the man is. The canes all Malfoy Lords had was by
his side and Marcaunon held in a snort at the design -a silver snake,
how original.
He observed the Head Auror next, noticing that he looked very

similar to Mad-eye. His father perhaps. The man was at an average
height, and has average looks -one that he'll forget soon (the only
reason why he remembered Mad-eye was because of his scars).
The man wore the standard Auror uniform as he slouched in his
seat, unlike the other men in the office.
"Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the Headmaster of Hogwarts,

Albus Dumbledore, and… I'm sorry young man, but I never got your
name." The men turned to him and Marcaunon brought out his
Hufflepuff friendly mask that basically shout out ' I'm innocent and
defenseless' .
"That's because I have yet to be introduced, Minister."
Dumbles at least had the decency to look sheepish and cleared his
throat to gain attention.
"Nobby, Lord Malfoy, Auror Moody, let me introduce to you my

Potions' Master, Marcaunon Gaunt. Marcaunon, this is Nobby
Leacher, Abraxas Malfoy, and Arastor Moody."
Marcaunon discreetly scanned their expression, noting no change

apart from the Minister -there was doubt in his eyes. When his
scarlet eyes landed on Abraxas, there was a small (too tiny to be
noticed if one were not looking for it) expression of confusion in the
blonde's eyes. He recalled that Abraxas Malfoy was infamous for his
cruelty and known to be Voldemort's right hand man in the early 70s.
"I do not wish to be rude, young man… Albus… But isn't he too
young -this is an unknown poison and -"
"Do not be fooled by his youthful face, Minister." Dumbles cut the
Minister off with a chuckle.
"He could be no more than eighteen." Moody gruffed out. Marcaunon
sighed under his breath. Mad-eye's father kept sending him
suspicious looks, and it was beginning to annoy him -was the Moody
family motto Constant Vigilance?
"I'm twenty-two, Auror Moody." He smiled softly at them. "My youthful

appearance is all thanks to good genes, but we digressed from our
original purpose. Will you let me examine the concoction, MInister?"
Leach handed a potion bottle filled with greenish-blackish bubbling

liquid inside.
"May I know the effects…?" He asked absentmindedly as he

examined the bottle. He swirled it around and with a heavy sigh,
removed his glasses -the world was too rosy for him to make an
accurate observation.
"The blood of the victim thickens at a painfully slow rate," Moody

grumbled. "and the temporary solution is to place them in stasis
charm."
"Only thicken?"
"It melts the skin as well as giving them blisters… Abnormal

breathing, and they had vomited quite a lot."
"Any problems with direct inhalation?"
"None."
With that, he pulled out the cork and took a whiff. There was
definitely Monkshood in there as well as Nerium Oleander -two very
poisonous plants. He frowned and pulled out his potion equipment
and laid them on the table surrounded by the men in the room.
The first thing he would have to do is to separate the components

inside. He suspected one or two snake venoms in there, but he was
no expert on serpents -apart from Basilisks apparently. He didn't
mind that the men were talking to one another, probably discussing
about the raid and how to catch the mastermind, and focused on the
potion at hand.
It was something he had never encountered before, even in his

original world -maybe the victims died and there was no cure found,
so they labeled it as unknown. Marcaunon idly wondered if
Voldemort was the one responsible… It wasn't his style and he
would definitely be more subtle in the beginning. Voldemort is a
genius strategist, he would never order his minions to raid half-
heartedly. There weren't even that many casualties -and no deaths,
shocker!
Voldemort appeared in the late 1960s to terrorize the community

when his bills were denied by the Wizengamot (majority supported
the Light blindly, the proposals were great actually), before the
Ministry announced war around the early 1970s.
He battered the thought away and proceeded to the next step,

identifying the ingredients used. It took him quite long but he
thankfully noted down that no, there were no basilisk venom used.
The only way to counter them was to use Phoenix Tears, which was
a rarity itself -phoenixes do not shed their tears without reason.
Fawkes was still a wild Phoenix, not yet bonded to Dumbles -he
never figured out why sure a pure creature would want to remain
with Dumbledore of all people.
The final step was to figure out how to recreate the concoction (by
trial and error) so that he could brew an antidote. Marcaunon
excused himself from the circle and stood in the middle of the office,
glad that at least it was wide and spacious enough. He enlarged his
Potion-making kit and conjured a fire pit table.
He was grateful that he remembered to restock his kit a week ago

and arranged all necessary ingredients on the tables.
"May I ask for the progress, Mr… Gaunt?" A smooth male's voice
drawled and he saw Malfoy stepping beside him to observe his work.
"All is well, Lord Malfoy, though I would recommend that you take a
few steps back." He smiled at the blonde as he poured water into the
cauldron. "The heat will become much unbearable."
"Are you able to create an antidote this very day?" The tone was
polite, but Marcaunon could hear the hidden doubt in it.
"Hmm…" He hummed as he worked. "It's definitely a challenge."
"A Mastery at the age of Twenty-two is an incredible feat itself -

curious that nobody knows." Marcaunon inward sighed at the
interrogation he was receiving. Could this blondie not see him
working?
"Thank you, Lord Malfoy. The passion I have towards Potions made
me what I am today. The guild I am in tends to keep their members
anonymous."
"Most guilds often brag about their members."
"Is that so?" He replied idly as he stirred.
"Indeed." Malfoy cleared his throat and moved on to another topic.

"How's Hogwarts these days?"
"Great. The number of students attending is increasing each year."
"Do you like teaching, Mr. Gaunt?"
"I do, though grading essays is not one of my favorite things to do."
He added a few drops of King cobra venom. "Were you in Slytherin,
Lord Malfoy?"
"Indeed I am. May I ask why you're asking?"
"Hmm… No reason, my Snakes would sometimes talk about you."
"Oh? I do hope they didn't say anything unfavorable."

Marcaunon faked a realistic chuckle and smiled at the blonde.
"Not at all. The bills you present were always a discussion in the
common room."
They continued conversing for another half an hour until the other
men in the office joined them to observe and ask a few questions
regarding the antidote. He was annoyed at their impatience and
wanted nothing then to announce that there was no cure just so he
could watch the Minister's reaction.
It seemed that Leach's wife was one of the victims and the reason
why the man had bags underneath his eyes. A pity.
September 1966
Location: Hogwarts, Near Slytherin Dungeons
"My father will hear about this!" That phrase made Marcaunon's lips
twitch uncontrollably for a few seconds before he smoothen his
expression into a serene mask. It seemed that Lucius and Draco
Malfoy have the same bratty personalities when they were younger,
including the most infamous words of ' My father will bloody hear
about this' .
He was already worried about his freedom after meeting Abraxas,

and now he had to deal with Lucius?. If his son was here… A future
confrontation between him and Voldemort would be inevitable once a
letter to home is sent (he had tinkered with Abraxas's mind a little on
his way back from the Ministry). He would need to intercept Bleach-
brat's letters from now on.
He didn't really have to worry about Bellatrix and Andromeda

reporting back to their parents about anything, since he had
skimmed through their mind and found out that they know nothing
about his family name. It was a little odd for them not to know
Slytherin's descendants, but that could be Voldemort's doing.
He never heard of any Blacks apart from Bellatrix inside of
Voldemort's inner circle. Maybe the Blacks didn't support Voldemort
since they know he's a Half-blood…? Walburga attended school with
Tom, didn't she? If only he could ask his little Chaos about that!
He inwardly shook his head and focused back onto Bleach-brat.
Marcaunon had yet to personally meet the boy; he wasn't in the

Sorting Ceremony since he was busy making more antidotes on the
Headmaster's request (order). Just as he turned the corner, he saw
something he would have preferred to avoid.
Bleach-brat was being pinned to the wall by a fifth year Gryffindor.

The location left much to be desired. The foolish Lion should have
known better than to confront a Snake in its own territory. Alone .
Before he could wonder about the existence of bleach hair dye for
wizards, the fifth year boy with chestnut colored hair and black eyes
placed his wand underneath Malfoy's chin. He had no choice but to
intervene before anything escalates and Bleach-brat whines to
daddy dearest -no need to have Abraxas visit Hogwarts just because
of this little thing.
"What is going on here?" He questioned whilst narrowing his eyes at

the Gryffindor. "And unhand him this instance!"
The red robed teen was quick to push away from Bleach-brat, as if
disgusted, and looked sheepishly at Marcaunon.
"Professor."
Bleach-brat fixed his collar and turned his nose upwards, looking
down at them both. Oh the nerve of this brat! Only two minutes and
he already made a first bad impression on Marcaunon. He was
tempted to dunk the boy's head in pink dye just because.
He ignored the urge in favor of staring both teens down. A few

moments passed by and he could see them squirming under his
unnerving gaze. Marchosias did say something about how creepy
people thought their eye color (red) was.
"Jordon Lacer. What is a fifth year Gryffindor doing all the way down
here in the dungeons… assaulting one of its inhabitants?"
"Err… I-it wasn't my fault Professor! Malfoy here kept on calling me a

M-m-mudblood!"
"And pray tell why you are in the dungeons whilst supposedly being
at your Tower?"
Lacer had no answer and looked down, probably finding his shoes
interesting.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for the inability to follow instructions

thoroughly, Mr. Lacer."
He gaze was still sharp on Lacer. The teen intended to inflict

damage on one of his Snakes just because the Bleach-brat called
him what his species were usually called? Ignorant fool.
From the corner of his eyes, he could see that Bleach-brat was
expecting him to give Lacer a detention as well. Oh he would be
giving detentions alright.
"Ten points from Slytherin for that comment, Mr. Malfoy." The brat did
a double take and gap at him inelegantly. It was expected that a
normal eleven year old not having much self-control -unlike his son-
over their reaction and tend to give way too much.
"What!? How dare you take points from me! Don't you know who I
am?" The brat sneered at him. Even Marchosias could sneer better
at the puny age of four. "Wait till my father hears about this!"
"Another five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy. Does your father not
teach you respect?" He mocked with a polite closed eye smile.
Bleach-brat looked gobsmacked and was about to retort yet again .
Oh he would not risk his House Cup -Slytherin had won for three
consecutive years- just because this bloody brat could not keep his
mouth shut. The solution was to interrupt before he accumulates to a
negative hundred point in day one.
"And for you, Mr. Lacer… Twenty points from Gryffindor for
assaulting a first year." Hah! Now Gryffindor has negative thirty! But
seriously, the first day and already he had handed out point
deductions.
"B-b-but! But Malfoy insulted me! He used the M word at me!" Lacer
waved his hands towards the brat. M word… Marcaunon recalled
how his dear uncle used to say that in reference to Magic.
"No excuses Mr. Lacer. For even pointing a wand at a first year who
knows no spells-"
He was rudely interrupted and could feel a tick forming on his

temple.
"He's a Dark Wizard! He's evil like every other slimy snake sorted
into Slytherin! He of course knows tons of Dark spells to counter
me!"
"Does that give you an excuse to point your weapon at an un-armed

child? Just because you assume that he learnt Dark Arts from his
parents?" He cut in and the boy held in a flinch. Marcaunon
continued on mercilessly.
"Are you also accusing me of being an evil overlord as I am Head of

House for evil slimy snakes?" His smile turned feral and could see
that Lacer had paled, forgetting that he was indeed the Head of
Slytherin. "Another twenty points from Gryffindor for insulting a
Professor, Mr. Lacer."
He would be expecting a visit from Minerva this evening it seems.

Bleach-brat was looking at him with wide eyes, ashamed that his
own Head had taken points from him on the very first day.
"Detention with Mr. Apollyon Pringle next Sunday. The both of you.
Return to your respective common room, and follow me Mr. Malfoy."
Before they could even open their mouths, he turned around swiftly
and glided down the dungeons; his cloak billowing behind him similar
to a certain dungeon bat. Sometimes he regretted being a Professor,
teaching dunderheads and hormone filled teenagers that think only
with their lower region were awfully tiring.
He heard tiny soft footsteps behind him. At least the brat had
followed him without another prompting. The brat cleared his throat.
"I apologize for my unsightly behavior. May I ask for your name,
Professor?"
"Marcaunon Gaunt. I sincerely hope you have a good explanation as

to why you were not in our common room?"
"G-gaunt…?" Bleach-brat whispered to himself in disbelief.
"Mr. Malfoy, I'm still awaiting an answer. I do not have all day for you
to gather what little of your intellect together."
"P-pardon me Professor Gaunt. I was on my way to visit our Head of

the House, you actually."
"May I ask why you didn't wait in the common room? I would be
giving first years their welcoming speech right about now."
"It was personal."
"… Very well. I expect you to follow quickly after my speech.

Parseltongue."
They entered the common room and he waved for Bleach-brat to join
his fellow First Years. He stood in front of them, a serene expression
on his face. Outside of Slytherin, he would always be the cheerful
and friendly Professor, but with his Snakes, he demanded absolute
respect from them with narrowed eyes and death glares. The upper
years know of course, but First years are always questioning him
because of his masks. His acting was too brilliant it seems.
"I am your Head of House and also Potions' Professor, Marcaunon

Gaunt. If you are in need of help or even a person to talk to, feel free
to seek me out… I will not turn any of you away -we take care of our
own. The Password will be changed weekly, and I or one of my
prefects will announce it in the common room the day before the
change -most of the time after dinner." He made eye contact with
each person, pausing only for dramatic effect.
"I welcome you all to the greatest of the Hogwarts' four, and
commend you for your cunning and ambitious nature. There are, of
course certain expectations that will need to be followed within
Slytherin." He gave them all his signature closed eye smile.
"All confrontations will be done within these walls and never outside
the House. If it escalates, I expect one of you to fetch me, lest you
lose a limb or two… permanently. Always assume that your fellow
Snakes have the same or more knowledge regarding Arts that are
left questionable at best." He could see majority of them swallowing
but kept their expression blank. Good.
"Always remain in groups to show a united front. The other Houses -

especially Gryffindors- would prefer tossing you lot into the
Forbidden Forest rather than letting you attend classes with them.
Refrain yourselves from being a tyrant and commenting on your
schoolmate's blood purity -or lack thereof." He smirked when the
little eleven year olds snickered into their palms at his jab on
Mudbloods. "Some will use wands rather than words when
humiliated, so take heed and make a tactical retreat when
threatened. I would rather my Snakes be cowards than land
themselves in the infirmary."
He paced slowly, with his hands behind his back, in front of his
newest collection of Snakes as he let them absorb the fact that he
needed them to have self-preservation instincts to survive in
Hogwarts.
"Also, I would advise you to check for potions and poisons before
consuming anything edible. You may think Hufflepuffs as the left-
overs, but if any of them were to be bullied by one very foolish Snake
-no matter which year, the whole of Slytherin will have their food be
infected by fungi and viruses." Many of them paled and he gave a
feral grin.
"There will be rumors about how I was once a Hufflepuff, and I will
tell you now that all those were regrettably true. I was placed there
for reasons I will not disclose to you, but let me warn you… Show me
disrespect and even sleep will come difficult for you. Remember that
Honey Badgers have a tendency to eat live snakes, my cute little
Serpents."
Marcaunon released a small portion of his (very) Dark Magic, potent

enough to make them breathless but not enough to bring them to
their knees. He observed how the majority of them trembled in
pleasure as their eyes glazed over and stood on shaky legs. Without
even a change of expression, he suppressed his Magic and smiled
dangerously at them.
"Let this be a reminder to you all that I will not tolerate rule-breakers
in my House. Never be tardy and if anyone dares to lose more than
fifty points… My prefects will show you to your sleeping quarters."
With that, he motioned Bleach-brat to keep up as made his exit,
leaving behind a group of Magic-frenzied firsties.
"Mo-… Dad. Who's this?" He stopped halfway from calling

Macaunon Mother when he spotted mini-Lucius eyeing Salazar's
portrait.
"Chaos dear, please take Mr. Malfoy to my office. I'll be back in a few
minutes." His mother said as he head towards their bedchamber.
The door clicked close, leaving only the two children staring at one
another.
He turned on his heels and made his way towards his mother's office
where Slytherins would often come when they were being bullied or
in need of help. He didn't bother checking to see if mini-Lucius
followed. He opened the door and rounded the desk. He sat with
elegance on the chair behind it, whilst motioning for mini-Lucius to
take a seat in front of him.
Once he did, Marchosias smirked whilst mini-Lucius sneered.
"What's your relation to Professor Gaunt?" The blonde dared to

demand . Marchosias narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Does your pitiful excuse of a mind not recall my calling of him Dad
?" He mocked as the Malfoy heir sputtered in indignity.
"I was merely confirming! Who're you?"
"Is it not polite to introduce yourself before asking? Or have you not
been taught proper etiquette by daddy dearest?" Mini-Lucius was up
on his feet in a second and pointing his wand at Marchosias.
He didn't even blink and tilted his head to the side -a habit he gained
from his mother. The door opened silently and he saw Marcaunon
freeze at the sight of him being threatened (as if) by mini-Lucius.
"Mr. Malfoy… What in Merlin's bloody sacks do you think you're

doing!?" Mother growled out and mini-Lucius paled. He was probably
remembering Marcaunon's welcoming speech. It was rather
intimidating. "Put your wand away before you accidently poke my
son's eye out."
He observed how the Malfoy heir pocketed his wand and apologized
stiffly to both him and his mother. Marcaunon rubbed the bridge of
his nose and made his way towards Marchosias, making shooing
motions for him to get off his seat.
He huffed and did so, but took a seat on his mother's lap afterwards.
Marcaunon didn't seem to mind and hugged Marchosias closer to his
chest.
"Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy, and you better have a good explanation for
your violent behavior, lest I take more points from you." Oh? So mini-
Lucius already placed Slytherin in the negative point zone?
"I… Your son insulted me, sir-"
He zoned out (but still keeping an ear open since this could prove to
be blackmail material) as he played with one of his mother's summer
azure butterflies. They were a pretty bluish-white in color and he
always wondered why they flocked around Marcaunon. He had of
course let his curiosity get the better of him and asked if his mother
had placed nectar on his person. The results made him wince
internally at the phantom pain on his head where a bump used to be
and tugged on the butterfly's wings.
Another curious thing was that no matter how hard he pulled, these
flying insects were unbreakable. They didn't even seem bothered
that he tried to detach their wings from them. Knowing that he was
fighting a losing battle, he started pulling the antennas next.
The butterfly in hand started squirming and he tilted his head in

curiosity. Unbreakable, but pulling the antennas bring them slight
discomfort. He continued pulling and tied the two into a knot. The
butterfly soon became disoriented and fell from his palm and onto
the floor, much to his amusement.
His nose was flicked lightly in warning by his mother at his animal
abusive tendencies and he shrugged. At least his mother's butterflies
were indestructible. Once again, he was curious why the butterflies
didn't seem to die even after years of being with them -weren't their
lifespans short?
With only a thought, another butterfly landed onto his palm. He was
amused at how these tiny brain insects know when Marchosias
called them to him.
This time he unrolled its proboscis and curled it around his finger. If
butterflies had faces, it would be scowling at him right now. He made
an amused sound from the back of his throat and continued to play
with the butterfly, not minding how childlike he was acting.
"-having taken twenty five points from you. If you continue losing me
points, I would force the hat to resort you into Gryffindor, Mr. Malfoy."
Now that was an amusing thought. A Malfoy in Gryffindor was like
putting a butterfly with the bees. They won't last long that's for sure.
"Let me re-introduce to you my son, Mr. Malfoy. Marchosias say hi to
Lucius."
"Hi Lucius." He greeted cutely as he shoved the butterfly to the

physically elder child's outstretched hand. Like hell he would shake
his (future) minion's hand.
Mini-Lucius looked confused and before his mother could warn him,
the butterfly attacked the child with zeal. Its companions all fluttered
towards the terrified blonde and Marchosias laughed cruelly as mini-
Lucius was covered head to toe by them.
He heard Marcaunon whisper something about 'dastard child' and

decided to ignore his mother in favor of watching mini-Lucius squirm
like the worm he is.
October 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Marcaunon's Study
"Death?"
"You called, Master?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong… But isn't Damocles Belby the inventor of

Wolfsbane Potion?"
"You are indeed correct, Master."
"Then why is it that he died seventeen hours ago from a potion's

explosion?"
"Different dimension."
"The potion is important for my plans… I could always pretend to

invent it… But I don't really want to bring unwanted (Voldemort's)
attention onto myself. A potion that relieves the symptoms of
lycanthropy is quite noteworthy."
"Relieves symptoms? But Master, didn't you achieve in creating a

cure for lycanthropy when you saw your Godson miserable back
then?"
"Indeed…"
"Master could always create another identity… perhaps an

anagram?"
"… Death you're a genius!"
"I try."
He stalked his way through the halls as he thought about his name.
It was difficult and he couldn't think of anything cool like how Tom did
it. Tom Marvolo Riddle, I am Lord Voldemort. How bloody awesome
is that?
Marcaunon sighed and grumbled… before he remembered that

Marchosias was actually Tom Riddle. If he could think of such a cool
anagram for himself, he could definitely think of an amazing one for
Marcaunon!
With that thought in mind, he bounced towards the library in search

for his bookworm of a son.
Lo and behold, a small figure was dwarfed by stacks upon stacks of
books surrounding him. Marcaunon could only shake his head with
fondness.
"Marchosias?" His boy looked up with annoyance, but smiled when

he saw was it was Marcaunon calling him.
"Yess Dad?"
"Are you busy?"
"No, not at all. Anything the matter?" His boy tilted his head cutely to
the side.
"I am in need of… assistance." He said the last word with a grimace,
as if he swallowed a raw lemon. Marchosias closed his book (without
marking) to pay full attention to Marcaunon. "I am unable to think of
a nice anagram for myself."
Whilst Marcaunon was talking, he didn't notice his son choking on

his own spit. His boy cleared his throat.
"Dad… Why would you require an… anagram?"
"I created a potion that could help werewolves have control over
their inner wolf." Marchosias nodded with ease, but he could see
how shocked his boy was. Maybe telling Marchosias about the
Wolfsbane potion wasn't a good idea. He was from Marcaunon's
original world afterall. "And I prefer not being known by… someone."
"Fair enough… Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt…"
"I'm actually thinking to remove my first name. In case anyone

figured out it's an anagram." Voldemort would.
"Then only Seirios Gaunt?"
"Yess…"
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes until Marchosias spoke
up.
"How about Ignatius Rose?"
"… That isn't half bad… But why Rose? It sounds… girly."
"Dad… Please extend your hair and look into the mirror."
Marcaunon scowled at his boy and crossed his arms with a huff.
Ignatius Rose… It wasn't a bad name. It's similar to Ignotus Peverell
and he recalled reading about someone named Ignatius
Theophorus, or Ignatius of Antioch.
"It's… a good name. Thank you my dearest." He kissed his son's

forehead before bouncing off towards his personal lab. He had a
potion to brew.
October 1967
Location: Ministry of Magic, Department of Inventions (I created this!

Don't mind!)
"T-this is poison!" The head of the department, Albert Storm,

declared with accusing eyes.
"Once again, I assure you it is not, Mr. Storm. This potion is a

suppressor of sorts."
"Forgive me for not believing you, Mr. Rose. But surely you can see
that Aconite is a very poisonous plant."
He was beginning to tire of this repeated conversation.
"Firecall a competent Potions' Master to ask their opinion." For the

love of… This man would be brutally killed if he weren't trying to
preserve the Wizarding Community.
"Perhaps…" The mouse of a man proceeded to firecall and
Marcaunon wanted to castrate him there and then. He had already
demanded for Storm to call a Master for their opinion when he
arrived. But noooooo~ Stubborn bastard.
Soon, a woman with dark wavy hair that reached mid back with grey
eyes, a face thick of make-up and pale skin came out from the
fireplace. Marcaunon discreetly perched his rose-tinted glasses atop
his nose and messed his hair so it was covering most of his face.
It was Vevila Malfoy née Lestrange, Abraxas Malfoy's bloody wife.

What bad luck! First it was Malfoy Sr, then Bleach-brat and now this
woman.
He could sense Voldemort's enticing Dark magic on Malfoy's left

forearm and resisted the urge to reach out and caress the Mark. He
could literally visualize how the Serpent tattoo would hiss at him in
pleasure as he mixed their Magic together -oh so very tempting.
"Madam Malfoy, so glad you could make it. I would like your opinion
on this potion, if you will." Storm said joyfully whilst handing
Marcaunon's vial over to Madam Malfoy. It took quite long for her to
examine the potion as she brought out her equipment.
"I am… unsure of what this is."
"Is it poison, Madam Malfoy?" He asked with a soft smile on his

features.
She stared evenly back at Marcaunon and replied with caution after
a few more minutes of testing. At least she was professional.
"No. It looks to be poison, but the effect was counteracted."
Marcaunon turned towards Storm and bared his teeth into a more
feral smile. His patience with this man was already thinned.
"Did I not say that already, Mr. Storm?"

"Y-yes you did… But you're still young and could be mistaken-"
"I have already gotten my Mastery, Mr. Storm."
"Well… Why don't you tell me the exact details to your invention and
we'll test it out and see if it's good enough to receive an Order of
Merlin."
Good enough…? GOOD ENOUGH!? Oh for Merlin's sake! His

brewing skills are top class whilst the potion itself was used in his old
dimension. His anger meter was beginning to rise at an epic rate.
"I assure you it will be… good enough… for your Order of Merlin ."
He gritted his teeth and gave the man a deranged smile. Storm
looked paler but he didn't care. He was beyond pissed -and he
always had anger management issues.
"It's called Wolfsbane. Aconite and Hellebore would counteract each

other whilst retaining their basic components, thus this is not a
poison," He spat the last word, loving how Storm had flinched at his
murderous tone. "Bloodroot would force the drinker to remain calm,
whilst Moonstone would allow for balanced emotions and in
combination with Ginger Roots would repress natural impulses.
Liquid Silver is not actually a liquidity state, but mercury, and its
attribute are very different even to be the exact opposite."
"A suppressor…? Not for a human, but for the instincts of an

animal?" Madam Malfoy questioned in astonishment. Her Slytherin
mask dropped a little and allowing Marcaunon to see the greed,
respect, and something he couldn't quite identify in those grey orbs.
"Indeed. Wolfsbane does not cure, but relieves the symptoms of

Lycanthropy. It allows one to hold onto their mental facilities after
transformation… However it can be disastrous if not brewed
correctly."
"Has it been tested yet?"

"In theory, it should work."
Marcaunon was given a parchment entailing the things that would be

done, and whilst he was reading, he was oblivious to Madam
Malfoy's eyes roaming his body and those grey orbs darkened with
desire.
A/N:
Sorry for the late update, I was kind of busy (T3T). I would like to
thank the people who reviewed, and to those who gave me tips on
how to improve.
The whole time I was writing this, I had the picture of Frank Dillane
(Teenage Tom Riddle's actor) beside my Word doc. Yess I'm creepy
and I don't know why his face gave me inspiration. Maybe it's
because I was imagining him crucio-ing Hermoine into insanity whilst
smiling that sinful smile of his. *cough* Anyway, we're getting closer
to Voldie! Are you exited!? ~(O3O)~
I'll be putting in more backstories about Marc's original world, and

can only say that it'll not be in the form of a dream -too mainstream
for me sorry! I'm glad many of you enjoyed the therapy session.
I'm sure many of you would want to see Marchosias's reaction to

people chasing after Marc's hand in marriage (or body), so I'm
putting in some one-sided romance. Tell me my fellow readers,
who would you like to see being crucio-ed by Marchosias? Put
it in the reviews! I forbid anyone from putting Dumbledore by the
way!
P.S. For those who have noticed that Principal Skinner is from
Simpsons, I GIVE THEE A COOKIE!
Story recommendation for today: Schooled by WyrdSmith. This is

the Marauder's Era I think… Harry (or Hadrian Morgan) is a bastard
son of the Potters, and is sorted into Ravenclaw. He's orphaned and
dirt poor, so the Gryffindors bully him (with James as their leader).
When he found the opportunity to get his revenge (like a true
Slytherin) he embarrassed the whole lot of Lions and got the
attention of one Marvolo Slytherin. TMR/HP Parings. AU.
Rainbows and Fungus,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 8
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 8: Dinner, and Dates
January 1967
Location: Hogwarts
In the dimly lit dungeon, Marcaunon squinted as he stirred the

concoction absentmindedly, lost in his thoughts.
Before he had started mixing weird ingredients for this particular

brew, he found an old blue notebook he had once used when he was
physically around six years old, by accident. He remembered how he
had stared at those grey walls in the orphanage so much that he
wanted something to do -apart from his failure of good deeds.
Whilst he may be old in mind, he was young in body and it affected

his mental state, actions and emotions. As much as it frustrates him
so, he was childish and impulsive (he went hunting almost constantly
to satisfy his impulses). When he could take no more wall watching,
he started doodling on one of the deathfiles (Death had given him a
five hour lecture when It found out), just for something to do. He
drew dementors, unicorns, phoenixes, and lastly, a bottle of Liquid
luck -or Felix Felicis.
The golden bottle made him think - if wizards could bottle luck, why
could they not bottle other similar things? He wrote down all the
ingredients and their properties, try to mix them up and see if he
could create new potions.
Back to the present, he stopped his stirring and wiped his sweaty
forehead -the fumes could melt skin. His concoction was silvery
white in color, with droplets leaping out at random intervals, similar to
that of a fish jumping out of its bowl. It seemed to be the correct
color, if what he had written in theory was true.
Similar to Felix Felicis, this potion is highly toxic when consumed in

large quantities. If everything is perfect, he would recommend this
potion to only be used when in the face of dementors -a back up
plan if they could not make a proper Patronus charm due to their
incompetence.
Marcaunon placed his wand above the concoction, drawing a symbol

of eight slowly.
"Laetifixempra [1]." He whispered the spell he had invented just for

this particular potion.
The cauldron shook for a few seconds, before it abruptly halted to a

stop. Silvery wisp of smoke rose from the concoction and he
pocketed his wand. The cauldron contained a mixture of teal, almost
seemed like silky electricity.
He accio-ed a large empty jar, as big as his head, and bottled the
concoction. Marcaunon blinked when he felt his sleeve being tugged,
and looked at the disturbance. He would test it afterwards.
"Chaos. Weren't you with Mana and Suki?" He looked at Marchosias

in confusion as he brushed his knuckles gently over his son's cheek.
"Both are sleeping at the moment. There's a… guest waiting for you
in the office." Marchosias had a blank expression on his face, but
Marcaunon had a feeling that he was thinking murderous thoughts.
"Who?" He casted an unbreakable charm on the glass jar before

shoving it carelessly inside his expandable bag strapped on his right
thigh.
"Malfoy. He's been coming here a lot lately." Marchosias stated

coldly as they walked to his office. The unasked question and the
way he said it made alarm bells ring inside Marcaunon's head.
"Yess… Potions is not one of his best subjects and he requested that
I tutor him."
"Is that so…" There was a glint in those ruby eyes and Marcaunon
choose to ignore it in favor of opening the door.
Bleach-brat was sitting in front of his desk, patiently waiting for his
arrival. The brat smiled but it turned into a scowl when he saw
Marchosias walking in behind him.
"Professor Gaunt."
"Mr. Malfoy." He rounded his desk and sat on his cushioned

armchair. "We just had our session the previous day."
"Yes, I apologize for intruding."

"No harm done."
"My mother…" Bleach-brat began, "has extended a dinner invitation

to you and your family, Professor."
"Your mother? Hmm… Ah yes, Madam Vevila Malfoy. I've heard she
is a renowned Potions' Mistress." He recalled meeting her when he
was Ignatius -it was not easy to forget a woman who wore layers
upon layers of make-up caked onto her face, as well as heavy
perfumes on her robes (did she have to cover her body odour or
something).
"Quite. Mother has heard much about you from father and would like
to get to know a fellow Master in the arts of Potion Making. She was
deeply impressed by your ingenious in creating the Poison-blood
antidote within only a few hours back in August last year."
"And when would this… dinner invitation be?" He drawled with a tilt
of his head.
"Next weekend."
"Hmm… Chaos?" He turned to his son, who was sitting on his lap
with an unreadable expression. It was Marchosias's decision since it
would be on a Sunday after all.
"We should accept -it would be impolite to refuse after all, father."
His child replied slowly.
"Very well." He gazed at Bleach-brat with a smile, "Please inform

Madam Malfoy our acceptance to her invitation."
"Mother would most definitely be pleased." The brat placed a small

silver statue of a peacock on his desk. "The portkey will active at
exactly half past six."
"Is there anything else you wish to say, Lucius?" Marchosias

questioned tonelessly when Bleach-brat made no move to leave.
Bleach-brat's left brow twitched at how casually Marchosias spoke
his name but shook his head after a moment of hesitation.
"No. Please excuse me, Professor." He excused himself and left.
The both of them were silent as Marcaunon played with his son's
hair -it was a wonder how Marchosias could tame the mess when
Marcaunon himself could not.
"Chaos?"
His boy stayed silent and Marcaunon grew worried. The last time he
was this silent, his butterflies were all tied up on a stick and being
roasted inside the fireplace. Not wanting a repeat of that incident, he
turned his six, going seven year old child to face him.
"What's wrong, little one? Is your stomach hurting?" He whispered

gently.
"… Just tired, mother."
"Alright…" He sighed. "But you know you could always tell me

anything right?"
"I know."
He kissed his son's cheek and hummed to himself. He would have to

be prepared just in case. Marchosias was unpredictable at times -
and that made him dangerous.
January 1967
Location: Hogwarts
Marcaunon frowned at his reflection as he tried to tame his wild hair.

As usual, he was wearing black, and the only part of his skin that
was seen was only his face (his fringe had grown longer and usually
curtained his eyes). He made a sound of frustration and ignored the
silent shuffling of someone entering his bedchamber.
"Mother?" He turned to look at his son. Unlike Marcaunon, his hair

was combed to the side neatly. His boy was wearing the exact same
clothing as him, apart from the color -which was dark blue, almost
black. "Are you done yet?"
"My hair refuses to stay flat!" He huffed and crossed his arms
petulantly. " How do you manage yours?"
His boy deadpanned and brought out a small silver peacock statue.
"Flat hair does not suit you."
"But it suits you… and you take after me in appearance."
"Mother, stop being delusional." Marchosias rolled his eyes. "People

do not confuse my gender at first glance."
He scowled at his boy. He hated it when people mistake his gender -

mainly due to his androgynous appearance.
"That's because you're still covered in extra adipose tissues."
"… Are you calling me fat?"
"Yess."
He disregarded the glare that was sent his way and turned towards
the two whining serpents -as much as a snake can whine.
" Hush." He hissed exasperatedly, " And for the last time, we will
not bring you both along!"
" But who will protect you, Master?" Suki questioned worriedly.
" Do you doubt my strength?" He narrowed his eyes.

Before another hissing match could start, Marchosias intervened.
"Madam Malfoy may recognize those."
"… I suppose you're right." He reluctantly removed his rose tinted

glasses and squinted when the world became full of colors again.
" Let me accompany you, Chaos." Manasa hissed as she slithered

towards Marchosias.
His boy only stared at him with those wide ruby eyes. Marcaunon
faltered -it was Marchosias's own version of the wretched puppy dog
eyes . It was adorable, yet equally disturbing (we're talking about
junior Voldemort here).
" Fine!" He conceded, "But don't expect a reply from us. The
Malfoys can never know of our abilities." He warned the two
snakes.
The two cheered and Marcaunon resized them to fit perfectly around
his and his son's shoulders -they actually made good accessories,
looking very much like a scaly infinity scarves. He scooped
Marchosias onto his hip and held out the portkey. They waited for a
minute, and disappeared after feeling a tug inside their navel.
They appeared without flaw in his landing. The room they were in
was familiar to the both of them -the floo room in Malfoy Manor.
There were vases and paintings of sceneries around, a few tables,
armchairs and a divan near the fireplace.
"Professor." They turned to Bleach-brat who had just entered.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor… You too, little menace." The last part
was said in a whisper and Marcaunon pretended to be oblivious,
whilst Marchosias gave Bleach-brat a deadly glare (and probably
thinking about ways to eviscerate Lucius, preferably with his bare
hands).
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Please, call me Lucius. Let me escort you to our dining area."
With Marchosias still on his hip, he followed behind Bleach-brat. The

two of them were silent, only listening to the brat as he blabbered
about the other Malfoy Portraits when they walked past. He
remembered how this very Manor had been raided and destroyed by
the Ministry.
Draco had all but crawled to him with holes in his torso, dropping to
his knees just to beg Harry to protect his son from those Light
Wizards -Malfoy may be prideful, but his schoolboy rival would toss it
away for his family. He of course had agreed, but Scorpius followed
his family to their graves only a month afterwards. The teenager
could not get over his grief and AK-ed himself after taking revenge
on those who killed his parents. A waste since the blonde had
potential.
He was brought out from his musings when they entered the dining
area, Lord and Madam Malfoy stood waiting for them.
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Professor Gaunt." Lord Malfoy greeted

with a polite smile on his face as they shook hands. "This is my wife,
Vevila."
He took Madam Malfoy's offered hand and kissed the air above her
knuckles.
"A pleasure, Madam Malfoy."
"Likewise, Professor Gaunt." Those cupid bow red lips curved into a
weird smile.
They were led to their seats and all sat, with Lord Malfoy at the head,
Marcaunon to his right and Marchosias just beside. Lady Malfoy sat
at the opposite of Marcaunon whilst Bleach-brat was beside her.
"Thank you for the invitation, Madam Malfoy."

"Please, call me Vevila." Her lashes fluttered uncontrollably as she
spoke -was something wrong with her eyes? "I've been hearing only
good things about you from Abraxas and Lucius. Is he your son,
Professor Gaunt?"
"Yess… Introduce yourself, little one." He didn't want to give the

woman permission to call him by his first name. What if Lord Malfoy
thought he was flirting with his wife?
Marchosias tucked a wayward strand behind his ear and smiled at

the two adult Malfoys cutely.
"Marchosias Gaunt, delighted to make your acquaintances, Lord

Malfoy, Madam Malfoy." It seemed to him that they will be seeing
more Malfoys in the near future. He wondered about Chaos's
sudden interest in them -he always antagonized Bleach-brat just so
they could be left alone.
"My, what a polite and adorable young man you have, Professor
Gaunt."
"Thank you -"
Marchosias tuned them out as he narrowed his eyes at the bint (he
couldn't really recall her usefulness when he was Voldemort). She
was clearly flirting with his (rather oblivious) mother, occasionally
leaning forward so those useless fats on her chest would be more
notable. Oh how he was tempted to cut them off and force those
down her throat.
The food was already on the table and his mother was
absentmindedly piling them on a plate for him. Marchosias turned
towards Abraxas, one of the most ruthless in his inner circle, and
resisted the urge to slap the man -he was sipping his wine elegantly,
not minding the behavior his slut of a wife was exhibiting.
In fact, the man was staring at Marcaunon's face with an almost
eager look in those grey eyes. Marchosias frowned in confusion,
before realization hit -he could have slapped himself as he
remembered the fact that Abraxas was indeed infatuated with Tom
Riddle. Marcaunon was a softer and shorter version of Tom Riddle -
and that was enough reason for Abraxas to desire his mother.
He was not sharing his mother with anybody, especially Malfoys.
His hands twitched on his lap as he tried to reign in his anger -

twirling his yew wand was a habit of his when agitated (normally
came with a crucio being thrown around without restrain). With
murderous thoughts circling inside his mind, he almost missed the
presence of a house elf.
"Snake Lordy waiting at Master Lord Malfoy sir study." The house elf
squeaked as it (he did not care of the gender) twirled its ears in its
hands nervously.
"Abraxas? Did you invite him here?" The bint asked with a slight
narrowing of her eyes. Marchosias wanted nothing then to carve
them out of their socket.
"I have not. Please excuse me, Professor Gaunt." Abraxas gracefully
stood and walked out.
"Forgive my husband, Professor… He usually only excuses himself if

that person comes."
"The person must be important."
"Indeed… He used to be the King of Slytherin back when we were

both in Hogwarts."
Marchosias idly wondered who had taken his place as King back in
the 40s -since he was born late and as another person.
"Oh?" His mother raised a curious brow. "I've always thought that
Lord Malfoy was the King in his schooldays."
The bint giggled whilst she batted her lashes.
"I'm sure Abraxas would be pleased that you thought so highly of

him… But no, he wasn't. That person became King when he was in
his Fourth Year."
"My… What an amazing feat."
Marchosias was confused. He only knew one person in the entire

history of Slytherin who became King in Fourth Year -him.
"Indeed. He was charming and powerful, though not a pureblood."

There was barely concealed disgust in her tone.
A theory was formed, and it chilled him to the bone. It never crossed
his mind that there would be a Tom Riddle already existing and he
was the extra -the spare. He was in a parallel universe, and alternate
dimension. Marchosias would need to do some research once
they're back in Hogwarts.
"Really?" Marcaunon questioned curiously.
"Startling is it not? We used to think him a Mudblood, but he turned

out to be a Half-blood instead!"
"A Half-blood?" Mini-Lucius exclaimed in shock. "Why would the

House make someone with such lowly blood a King?"
His hands tightened around the goblet of pumpkin juice. The boy had
no self-preservation skills and he wondered how mini-Lucius became
his future right hand man.
"Lucius! Eat your food." The bint scolded.
"… Yes mother."

"He must be powerful to be chosen." His mother idly said with a
polite smile. "Though I can't say much about the current Queen of
Slytherin."
"Queen?" Her grey eyes showed interest as she leaned further

forward, and Marchosias would've hexed her if not for the table (she
was already too close to Marcaunon for his liking). "I've never heard
of there being a Queen before, only Kings."
"Catrina Burke. She seduced her way to the top, unlike the other
Kings -the ones that had power and were not afraid to broadcast it."
Catrina… Ah yes, he remembered that slut (there's one in this very

room as well). The only reason why she became Queen was
because of teenage hormones. If Magic did not flush out Muggle
diseases, the sixteen year old teen would probably be carrying STD.
"Being controlled by their lower region?" He swirled his cup of

pumpkin juice, watching the thick liquid slosh around in boredom. His
mother didn't notice how Marchosias had peered at the bint whilst he
spoke. "Tsk, how the mighty have fallen."
"Indeed… I've been trying to get others to overthrow her, but alas,
her skills in bed made them all hesitate." Marcaunon grimaced in
disgust and he agreed. This generation of Slytherins was… a
disgrace, and that's putting it mildly.
"Was that the reason why you've been slacking around in the
common room these past few days?"
"I was not, as you so eloquent put it, slacking around ." His mother
made a noise from the back of his throat as he tasted the wine. "I
was finding evidence if they were all affected by a lust potion or
something similar."
"They're teenagers, guys at that, father. They only think with their di-"
"An inappropriate topic to be discussing with two underage Wizards,
don't you think so, Professor?" The bint interrupted. "But… we could
discuss it afterwards…" Her voice lowered as she smiled seductively
with those pouty lips of her.
Marchosias twitched in his seat and made a quiet sound of disgust,

whilst his mother nodded obliviously. Sometimes he wanted to hit
Marcaunon for being so dense -but he was thankful as well. At least
he won't be getting a stepfather/mother (he still doesn't know
Marcaunon's sexuality… since he's asexual) anytime in the future,
and he would prevent it at all cost.
"My apologies. Did I make you uncomfortable, Lucius?" Marcaunon

asked with an apologetic smile.
"N-not at all, Professor." The brat was blushing as he ducked his

head. Ah how innocent.
"Lucius would be uncomfortable with anything, father… Especially

politics." How such an imposing and brilliant politician be such a brat
was beyond him.
"Excuse me?" Mini-Lucius sounded offended.
"You often have a hard time comprehending hidden meanings

behind words with that puerile mind of yours." A reason why he
couldn't take the title of Prince of Slytherin in his first year -unlike
Abraxas.
The brat's face became red in anger and embarrassment, and

Marchosias snorted into his pumpkin juice. How someone his age
doesn't know the word puerile is beyond him (he had brushed his
future minion's outer thoughts in curiosity).
"Why you bloody little bastar-"
"Lucius!" The bint looked scandalized as she shook her head in

disapproval at her son. "I apologize for my son's outburst… Really…
Such language."
"Oh you need not apologize, Vevila. Boys will be boys." His mother
chuckled and Marchosias marveled at the fact that it could sound so
real even when those scarlet eyes darkened in anger. Marchosias
himself knew that he was a bastard, but they both didn't like it being
broadcasted.
"Yess… He is but a boy." He smiled sweetly at the still red faced

mini-Lucius.
The dinner continued in that manner, and it was enjoyable… to a

certain extent of being able to insult Lucius without anyone apart
from his mother knowing. Abraxas had all but disappeared -such a
bad host, but he was placated (he had one less Malfoy at the table to
deal with). When they arrived back at Hogwarts, Marchosias was
surprised (and worried) when his mother had all but fallen to the
ground, shaking like a leaf.
He didn't know what to do but Mort appeared just as suddenly and

ushered him out of the door with both Vasuki and Manasa in tow.
"Master, calm down. Master!" He could hear Death's soothing voice

but he was too freaked out to notice that he had dropped to the
ground.
Voldemort was in that Manor. It was by pure luck (a fucking close

call!) that Abraxas didn't mention that he and his family was having
dinner with guests -obviously since Voldemort had not demanded
who and had stormed inside the dining area. He didn't know why he
was not reported to Abraxas's Master, but he would not look a gift
thestral in the mouth. His nerves were on edge and he couldn't
concentrate much on what Madam Malfoy had talked about -he was
glad that his acting skills were on par with a professional actor.
"D-d-death. He…" He chocked.

He felt arms around him and he shamelessly buried himself into
Death's embrace. It was nerve wrecking and he didn't want a repeat,
not so soon at least. Meeting Voldemort was inevitable, but he would
prolong it as much as possible.
"Shh… It's alright. Everything's alright, Master." He was rocked

slowly by Death and could only nod weakly in respond.
February 1967
Location: Hogwarts
"Professor!" He stopped in his track and waited for the person to

catch up. A Ravenclaw teen bent down to catch her breath before
straightening up and smiling shyly at him. "Sorry for bothering you
Professor, but I made too much chocolate and wondered if you
would like to try some."
He looked at the heart shaped chocolates within the (heart shape)

red box that the teen was holding and swallowed to keep himself
from drooling -Marchosias would have his head. How the school
found out his weakness for being a sweet tooth was beyond him, but
he would not question it. He had received a lot of chocolates this day
and he felt like he was in chocolate heaven.
"Is it really alright for me to try some?" He missed how the girl had
flushed as he continued to stare at the treat presented to him.
"O-o-of course!" The Eagle passed him the box and excused herself
(ran away) hurriedly.
Marcaunon paid no mind to the group of males that were chattering

near him and plopped one into his mouth. His eyelids fluttered close
and he moaned at the taste of chocolie goodness on his tongue.
Perhaps he should try to get Albus (he was trying to stop his
butchering at Dumbledick's name in his mind, lest he say it out loud)
to open a home economics class in the future.
He licked the excess chocolate on his lips and continued his way to
the Great Hall, oblivious to the blushes and hard-ons he had caused
the group by how inappropriate he had sounded (and looked).
The food in front of him was ignored by him in favor of chucking

chocolates into his mouth (gracefully). His colleagues all looked at
him in exasperated fondness as he childishly opened yet another
box of chocolate -all had hearts decorating them or Love in cream
writing meant nothing to him.
"My… someone has a lot of admirers." Sprout giggled into her hand
as she nudged his side.
He threw her an annoyed glare and batted the offending elbow away.
"The students just made extras and wanted me to have some." He

explained as he licked the chocolate off his fingers. "Though I have
to wonder if the majority of them prefer baking over potions."
Sprout chocked on her pumpkin juice whilst other Professors

suddenly froze in their place. They turned to him with a deadpanned
look -even Albus!
"M-marc!" She squeaked as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"You mean to say that you don't have any idea what today
represents?"
"Well… Hogsmeade are on weekends are they not?" The head table
was silent as they continued to stare at him like he was a mysterious
new species of flobberworm. He frowned at them in return -he did
not appreciate the looks sent his way by his fellow colleagues.
"Wasn't that the reason why the students all seemed to be in a good
mood?"
Before any of them could answer him, Marchosias interrupted with

solemnity, not even bothering to look up from his cup of pudding -
coffee flavored of course.
"Father has always been dense."
"Dense? That's an understatement…" McGonagall stated, her eyes

alight with mirth.
"I'm not dense!" He scowled at his son but the boy only snorted as
he continued to eat his dessert.
"Wait a minute." Sprout cut in as she tapped his shoulder. "Does that
mean you don't know the reason as to why you received chocolate
when we're in school?"
"But Pomona, we're still in school."
"When we're students, Marc! Honestly…"
"They figured out that I like chocolate, thus the gifts." He stated
seriously, not knowing why she looked annoyed, or the reason why
the other Professors were laughing at him.
"… Forget it!" She crossed her arms. "Now I know why little
Marchosias is so mature."
"Are you implying that I'm immature?"
"I'm not implying." She took a goblet of pumpkin juice to her lips. "I'm
stating a fact."
He scowled at her, clearly offended. He was not immature, and the

reason why Marchosias was wise beyond his physical age is all due
to the memories of being Tom Riddle and Voldemort. With a huff, he
grabbed another piece of chocolate and sulkily took a bite.
"P-professor?" All the Professors at the head table looked up when a

girl, probably a seventh year, called out. "Professor Gaunt, I mean."
She smiled sheepishly and the others turned back to their meal.
"Yess?"
"Well.. Uhm… I h-heard from one of my friends that you were going
to Hogsmeade today to buy some ingredients…"
"I am." He raised a questioning brow.
"I was wondering if-" she cleared her throat awkwardly and began
fumbling with her purple sweater. "If I could tag along…"
His brow rose higher. Why would she want to follow an old man to
shop for his ingredients?
"I mean! Because my supplies… they're uhh… I mean… friends…

busy and th-the…"
Pomona interrupted, taking pity on the Gryffindor -House of bravery?

Really?
"I think what she's trying to say is, Marc, that she needs to restock
her potions' supply." He only looked confused at Sprout. So what if
this girl needed to restock? Sprout only shook her head with a sigh.
"She would like to, as she put it, tag along, since her friends are
probably busy… Isn't that right sweetie?"
"Y-yes! That's exactly right, Professor Sprout!"
"Well…" Sprout was giving him a look and he sighed inwards. "Of
course you may."
"Thank you, Professor Gaunt! When will you be leaving?" She

smiled broadly, still red faced.
"An hour's time. I'll be waiting at the entrance doors."
She nodded with a grin and skipped towards her table -a group of
giggling girls patted her back as if to congratulate her, on what he
didn't know.
"Father…" Marchosias's cold voice made many of the Professors

turn to him, never hearing that tone before. "Did you know exactly
what… you agreed on?"
"Shopping together?"
His boy only stared blankly at him, and then at Sprout, before he
stood up to leave.
"I've finished." Marchosias left the Great Hall without even a wink of
emotion on his face -which freaked a lot of people out since his boy
was always smiling politely.
"Marc…?" Sprout whispered beside him.
"Hm?" He absentmindedly replied as he picked another chocolate to

eat.
"Is your offer on brewing for me a batch of poison detecting potion

still standing?"
"It is. May I ask why?" He asked curiously with a tilt of his head.
"Just taking precaution." She whispered, her eyes not leaving the
double doors of the Great Hall.
"Professor! Sorry, did I make you wait long?"
He turned towards the direction of the voice and spotted the

Gryffindor running to him -she was holding her leather purse with
one of her glove clad hands whilst the other waved at him. She wore
a scarlet mink coat (it matched his eyes actually) that reached just
past her knees, with a black belt around her waist, and leggings
underneath. Her choice of shoes made Marcaunon raise a sceptic
brow but he kept quiet -the heels on her calf-length boots were high,
causing her height to match his.
He was confused as to why she decided to dress up when she could

just go to Hogsmeade in her uniform, but he didn't bother to question
the enigmatic creatures named women. They would always remain a
mystery to him.
He found out that she was called Emma Marrone from Sprout after
they had finished their meal. The Gryffindor had short chin length
blonde hair, straight and positioned to fall gracefully to her right side.
It was not a hairstyle he had expected to see during the 60s, but how
would he know if Parasites had taken a liking to that particular style
of hair after a few decades and decided to make it a trend.
Her chocolate eyes were aligned with black liner (luckily it wasn't too
thick or he would have to avoid eye contact) that was framed by thick
fake curly lashes. Her round face, button nose, and cupid lips made
her appearance considered cute in overall -if he was other guys that
is.
"Not at all, Ms. Marrone, I just arrived myself." He smiled and offered
his arm to her -Sprout had told him that it was easier to keep an eye
on her when they were shopping this way.
Emma turned red but linked her arms with his offered one in a hurry -
almost like a starved dog to steak actually. The comparison made
him chuckle inwards as they began to walk. The distance from
Hogwarts to Hogsmeade was not that far and he rather enjoyed
taking his time.
The small talk they (she) made whilst on the way to the village was
annoying, but he enjoyed the cool air on his cheeks -they were
definitely red from the cold, perhaps he should've worn a mask or
something.
He didn't notice how the other students had stopped to stare at

Emma in envy or wonder, thinking about all the chocolate he could
be eating whilst he did his paperwork afterwards. Death wasn't one
to give him holidays (people die every day), and he planned to get
an assistant ASAP.
He had already gotten the permission to pick his very own assistant
from Albus a day ago. The days where he had passed out due to
fatigue would be over soon, and this would make his son happier
then him. Marchosias would always nag (not that that boy would
admit it) at him to sleep, or eat more -and as much as it brings
warmth to his every darkening heart, it was getting annoying as well.
His colleagues would look at him as if he was the child, not

Marchosias. His pride would take no more!
"Professor?" The Lioness's voice snapped him out from his musings
and he turned to her.
"Yess, Ms. Marrone?"
She ducked her head and pointed out that they were already at the
apothecary in a small voice. He politely shrugged her arms off (not
noticing her disappointed expression) and told her to get the items,
but she should call him if there was a problem or when she was
finished -bargaining for lower prices is one of his forte.
They both entered before separating. He took out his list and
skimmed it a few times before collecting the needed ingredients. His
scarlet eyes scanned the shelves masterfully, only wanting high
quality items, not near expired shite.
He reached for the last jar of Acromantula eyes, not noticing another
man beside him, and brushed against another customer's hand that
had reached for the jar as well. His hand retreated as quickly as
possible, as if burnt, and turned to apologize, but froze for a split
second before giving a polite smile.
The man had messy brown hair and hazel eyes. The face was a
familiar one, except a few more laugh lines added in place. If
Marcaunon was a lesser man, he would've thrown The Killing Curse
at this person within a second of seeing him -screw the authorities.
But luckily for this Obliviator, his control is to die for.
"My apologies, I didn't see you there."
Charlie, for he could not be mistaken as anybody else, was staring at

him with wide eyes. The hazel eyed man gave a strained smile and
chuckled rather forcefully.
"No worries. You can have it, I could always go to another shop."
"Nonsense…" He shook his head, his raven hair floating before

falling to frame his features. "You were here first."
"W-well then, thank you." Charlie took the jar and excused himself,
walking, almost running away.
He only stared at the departing man as his face blanked. The

feelings from that night returned and he clenched his fist tightly. He
gave the man privilege to touch his body, and yet the only thing that
bastard tried to do afterwards was to Obliviate him?
Never let anyone else say that Marcaunon could not hold a long-
term grudge because he was sorted into Hufflepuff. He held grudges
worse than Voldemort -and that's saying something since his soul-
brother had hunted him down for seventeen years, just to force him
into making a Horcrux so that he could have a taste at being a
bodiless floating thing until he was revived to be permanently killed.
Yes, Voldemort was that spiteful (petty)… but so was he.
He turned away slightly, but kept Charlie in his sight. A woman with
Black features tapped Charlie on his shoulder before she leaned into
him. Marcaunon could see that they were obviously a couple. He idly
wondered if he should torture that woman in front of his one night
bed partner before killing him off.
"Professor I'm done." His student announced and he smiled at her.

"Are you?"
"Just a few more I'm afraid. Why don't you queue up first? I'll be
there soon."
After another ten minutes, they left the store and Emma pulled him
into Three Broomstick. He had given his consent when she told him
that her feet needed rest -it was her own fault for wearing such
shoes, but he, being the polite Hufflepuff, didn't say that of course.
He was content to continue keeping his mouth shut and drink his
butterbeer, but Emma had other plans.
"Hey Professor?" She tilted her head and leaned forward. "Why did
you choose to be a Professor?"
"I wasn't planning on being one until perhaps I reached mid-twenties

actually." He confessed as he took a sip. "But Albus coincidently
found me, and asked if I wanted to be a Professor since he was
short of one."
"How old are you, Professor?"
"Twenty-two." He hummed. "Why the sudden curiosity, Ms.

Marrone?"
"N-nothing! I just thought you were younger."
"Oh?"
"Well… I thought you were… Well you look seventeen, perhaps

eighteen, but you've been teaching since I was in my third year…"
She looked down shyly. "I've always thought you were in your
teenage years, and keep forgetting that you're actually older."
"Ah, a lot of people do, Ms. Marrone." He chuckled.
"Uhm.. Professor… I.. I want to tell you that I -" She froze and
suddenly stood up, attracting the attention of many, and startling
those that were blatantly eavesdropping. "Excuse me for a moment!"
She all but ran to the ladies' room, her heels clicking on the wooden
floor noisily. He raised a brow but went back to drinking his
butterbeer -at least he could get some peace for even a tiny
moment.
He was impatient as he checked his pocket watch. Marchosias was

probably waiting for him back at Hogwarts, but he was stuck with a
Gryffindor that is still missing. It has already been thirty minutes
since she fled to the lavatory, and he wondered if he should ask
Madam Rosamert check on his student. As much as he hated being
with her, she was still his student and it was his responsibility to keep
her alive.
He called for the pub owner and Rosamert swaggered towards him,
her hips moving side to side weirdly. Were all women like this?
"You called, gorgeous?" She winked.
"Do you mind helping me check on my student, Madam?" He asked,

masking his face into one of worry. "She's been in the ladies' for at
least half an hour."
"Oh dear. Let me go take a look." She walked off and he hid a
grimace behind his butterbeer.
Rosamert came back a few minutes afterwards and explained to him

that Emma was having stomach problems, much to Marcaunon's
hidden amusement. Did she eat some laxatives or something? He
took out a potion bottle and told Rosamert to pass it onto his student,
which she accepted -her hand strayed too long on his fingers and he
had the urge to sanitize his skin.
"I'm sorry Professor… I think it was something I ate." Emma said

miserably, her face pale and sweaty. "Could you apparate us back to
Hogwarts please?"
"Of course…" He grabbed her around the waist and apparated them
in front of Hogwarts' gates.
He walked her to the infirmary and informed Madam Pomfrey of her
problem. Being the worried teacher he is, he sat by the bedside and
waited for Pomfrey to finish her diagnosis. The results made him and
the Mediwitch confused. The results came out healthy, but the girl
was obviously in pain.
Pomfrey shooed him away so that she could do more tests. He

shrugged (inwards) and headed to the dungeons. On his way there
he was stopped constantly by students giving him chocolate, and he
almost squealed at the amount he has when he reached his
chambers.
The Portrait of Salazar raised an amused brow and opened to give

him entrance after they conversed for a little while.
"Chaos." He greeted as he neared the fireplace.
"Mother. How was the trip?" His son smiled at him, looking far more
sinister with the flames reflecting on his pale skin, shadowing much
of his features. He paid it no mind and sat down beside his boy.
"Hmm…" Marcaunon pulled his boy onto his lap and buried his nose
into those soft raven locks as he closed his eyes. "Tiring."
"Tiring? I thought you were only buying ingredients?"
He tightened his grip on Marchosias as he recalled that bastard of a

man. He would have his bloody revenge soon -a drooling mass of
human lump coming right up.
"The girl dragged me into the Three Broomstick for a few mugs of
butterbeer." He sighed and snuggled into his son's shoulder. "She
made me wait half an hour for her… Stomach problems or
something."
"I see. You should rest for a bit before you start grading those
essays." Marcaunon groaned and continued to bury his head into his
son's shoulder, missing the smug and manic grin on his boy's face.
A/N:
[1] Laetificans - Joyous/gladful
Once again, I thank everyone for your great reviews. They are most
definitely lovely to read and I must say… The Malfoy family is quite
hated by you readers *snickers*. Everyone wanted to have at least
one blondie be crucio-ed. I'm glad the anagram was to most of your
liking. I just stared at my laptop's screen for who knows how long
when I tried to think of one (one of my weak points is naming)… But
it came to me when I was browsing through some characters on
harrypidia.
Perhaps I'll make another 'clash with the Malfoys' in one of the future
chapters *winks*.
The reason why it took so long for me to complete this chapter was
because of Voldemort! I placed him into this chapter twice, but I took
him out soon after… before putting him in again.. and then removing
him once more! But hey, at least I saved the future confrontation in
my other word doc! Charlie appeared again~ We'll be seeing again
soon, but he'll still live sadly… Marchosias is too young to do
anything yet.
Story recommendation for today: In Lukewarm Water by

RenderedReversed. It's about post-Hogwarts where Harry and Tom
were reincarnation. Both were labelled as Magical Prodigies
(obviously) but still Half-blood. A lot of playful banter and Tom/Harry
fluffiness. TMR/HP Pairing. Take note that this fic could only be
found in archieveofourown (AO3) . I figured I would recommend this
since some people don't go to other websites to read fanfic, so
yeah~ One must always broaden their horizon.
Rainbows and Laxatives,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 9
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 9: Never hurt one of ours, and the assistant
February 1967
Location: Hogwarts
It was safe to say that Marcaunon had always been a picky person -
no matter if it's about torture methods or constant company. His
majestic mahogany desk was littered with opened folders, containing
information, and photos.
Selecting an assistant was as enjoyable as dissecting a

flobberworm, and Marcaunon would rather do the latter -at least
there was gore, no matter how small. After he had sent out a
newspaper clipping in search of an experienced with Potions
assistant, a lot of Experts had owled him, and majority of them don't
even know the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane (he
swore to himself that he would administer detention to any of his
students that did not know they're one and the same). No wonder
Britain was made fun of when they competed in the IPC
(International Potions' Competition) last year.
With a frustrated groan, he closed his eyes and dug one random
folder. He raised a brow at the person's selfie and skimmed through
the person's resume and working experience -it was decent enough
and he could work with this. Not wanting to delay any longer, he
wrote a short note, telling the person to come to Hogwarts for an
interview the next day.
The walk to the owlery was peaceful -the children were busy
watching a Slytherin vs Gryffindor quidditch match. Whilst he on the
other hand, was having a day off due to a Potions' accident (not his,
mind you) that ruined his classroom -the elves are cleaning it this
very moment. He scowled in remembrance, how anyone could
cause an explosion when making an anti-paralysis potion was
beyond him.
He now understood the constant frowns and permanent worry lines

on his ex-Potions Professor's face. He gave too little credit to the
overgrown dungeon bat and felt that this was Karma biting him back
in the arse.
If he could age properly, he would already be worried about pre

wrinkles and probably a permanent scowl carved onto his face -not
to mention the grey hairs that'll appear before he physically reached
thirty. Contrary to what Mrs. Cole believed, he was aware about his
appearance (it was easier to manipulate people with first
impressions after all). Just because his hair was at a constant state
of disarray, and that he disliked wearing shoes doesn't make him a
slob -just eccentric.
Besides, he got into the habit of not wearing footwear due to
Voldemort. He recalled the time when The Dark Lord had all but
thrown the shoes he wore back inside his cupboard, disgust in those
crimson eyes. The vision of his soul-brother throwing a tantrum
because Nagini had ordered him to wear shoes to a raid (safety
measures to avoid stepping on wayward bones) made him burst out
laughing at random moments that month.
But back to the present, he tied the note to one of the owl's leg
before throwing the big fella out the window. He turned on his heels
and sauntered to the Great Hall, not minding that he was a little early
for lunch.
He raised a brow when he noted that all his Slytherins were already
seated, their shoulders stiff and their expression closed off.
"Father." His son greeted just as he sat down. To any outsider,

Marchosias was the picture of innocence and relaxation, but to him,
his son was filled with tension.
"Chaos." He smiled in greeting and piled up some food onto his

plate. "Any reason as to why my Slytherins seemed… tense?" He
was glad that the food would always appear as he sat down, so very
different from the students -which they had to wait for the
Headmaster.
"United front."
The answer made him pause as he slowly turned towards his

Snakes. He scanned them and noticed that all but three were
present -being the Head meant that he knew all his Snakes by heart.
He narrowed his eyes -something had happened and they were
angry.
"Oh? Did one of the other animals overstep their boundaries?" He

turned to his plate and asked nonchalantly as he continued eating.
"Indeed. A Lion dared to stand on a Snake's body entirely on
purpose, not minding that the Snake had almost died due to its
weight." Chaos replied, his voice cold and filled with fury.
"Really…" His lips thinned into a straight line. "And none of my

Snakes had the decency to inform me."
"It just happened."
"Ah. Quidditch…" He looked up as the other Professors and students

filled into the Great Hall.
The Headmaster stood in front of the head table, raising an arm to

silence the chatters of the students.
"Before we feast in congratulations to Gryffindor for winning their

match, I would like to caution that Quidditch is indeed a dangerous
sport… and may lead to many in-game and bystander accidents -"
Albus was cut off as all the Slytherins hissed as one, and if they
were cobras, their hoods would be flared in defiance. Marcaunon
cocked his head to the side. The other Houses looked at them in
shock but the Headmaster cleared his throat for attention once more.
"Ms. Bellatrix Black will be transferred to St. Mungos soon for proper
treatment -" He didn't wait to hear what the old man had to say,
knowing that a trip to St. Mungos meant that the injury was
dangerous and life threatening, and stood (attracting many attention
from both students and teachers alike) ignoring the eyes that
followed him as he walked out the Hall.
He entered the infirmary, following the sound of sobbing and sniffling

to a bed with their curtains closed. Madam Pomfrey was not
anywhere to be seen as he carefully slipped inside.
Bellatrix Black was someone he disliked, but she was one of his
Snakes, and he took care of those that were his. She looked pale,
sweaty, and near death. On either side of her bed was her two
sisters, Andromeda and Narcissa (whom is just a first year) Black.
The two crying girls turned to him with narrowed angry eyes, but
relaxed when they saw it was him.
"P-professor." Narcissa cried as she ran to him.
Marcaunon opened his arms for the crying girl to latch onto him, not
minding that her stoic façade was broken. Many would think that
Slytherins were cold and emotionless (which was somewhat true),
but his Snakes were loyal to only their chosen Lord and family. He
lost count to how many First and Seconds Years had come crying to
him due to the bullies and prejudiced they faced with the other
Houses. It took long for him to get used to prolong human contact,
but practice makes perfect -though the only ones he could stand
were Slytherins.
He settled the crying girl onto his lap as he sat down on her previous
seat, her face buried into his shoulder. He hummed and rubbed the
girl's back in comfort whilst looking at the middle of the three sisters.
Andromeda visibly pulled herself together when she saw him looking
for an explanation.
"Professor." She greeted, her voice strained. "Madam Pomfrey went

to inform our parents."
"That's good. Tell me what happened, Ms Bl-… Andromeda." He

corrected, seeing as there were two out of three Ms. Black currently
conscious. He bounced his leg as he absentmindedly rubbed circles
on Narcissa's back -already used to comforting firsties to care that
he was out of character.
"William Waits… He…" She sniffed softly and his eyes softened.
Without thought, he transfigured the chair he was sitting on into a
sofa chair just big enough for two adults to fit in. He patted the seat
next to him and the girl was quick to settle next to him, leaning
against him as to seek comfort.
Marcaunon wrapped an arm around Andromeda's shoulder and

smiled reassuringly.
"The game was already over… And we all know that Waits has
temper issues. Bella… She… He was still angry at Bella for when
she called him a Mudblood yesterday."
"Waits… He plays as a beater for the Lions, does he not?"
"Yes…" The arms around his waist tightened. "We, the Slytherins,
saw him accidently lose his grip on a bludger… It was more than 50ft
high, Professor! And he just… It was too fast and we couldn't stop
the ball in time. It landed on - on Bella's head!"
He scowled, knowing how hard and heavy that blasted ball weighs
(he still wondered why he even loved flying with a broom back then).
Bellatrix was lucky to be a Witch. Any Parasites would've had their
skulls caved in and died upon impact.
"Too fast, Professor. We could hear the… and oh Salazar… the

blood… Her head was…" She chocked and cried harder.
"Shhh… It's alright, child." He ran a hand through her hair in a

comforting manner. "Her injuries, Andromeda?" He asked gently,
rocking the two girls, the middle sister almost atop his lap whilst the
youngest was glued to him.
"M-madam Pomfrey said that her… Bella's skull was… it was

shattered beyond repair! She wasn't sure how it'll affect Bella's
mentality, so she went to firecall my parents to inform them… and
maybe place her in St. Mungos until further notice." Her voice grew
more panicked.
He hummed softly to the both of them, his gentle motions already

making Narcissa's eyes droop tiredly. Was this the cause of
Bellatrix's insanity back in his world? Before she was shoved into
Azkaban? No matter how powerful she will be when she reaches
adulthood, Voldemort and Marchosias would probably prefer her to
be less insane. Yes, he would have to fix her… And the Blacks would
owe him as well.
"Hold your younger sister for me, Andromeda." He smiled softly at

the teen as she nodded. Marcaunon shifted slightly and handed an
exhausted eleven year old Narcissa over to her sister, before getting
up and sitting on the edge of the bed.
He took out his wand and performed a few diagnostic spells on

Bellatrix, many of them were future inventions during war time -much
more accurate than the ones used these years. He narrowed his
eyes in anger when he read the results -her skull was shattered, with
many of the pieces piercing the brain.
Once again, Bellatrix was lucky to be a Witch. A Parasite would have

already been dead with this kind of damage. There's a chance that
she could turn insane if the pieces were not pulled out, and the brain
not healed properly -there was already severe intracranial
hemorrhage.
He didn't know if this dimension had competent healers that could

manage such a delicate case, but he would not risk it. Even back in
his own world (and future), many would already declare this as a lost
cause and tell the patient's family that she would have to be admitted
into St. Mungos' permanently mental ward.
He bit his lower lip and snapped his fingers, making one of his
butterflies appear in front of him.
"Tell Marchosias to bring my red briefcase with a white cross in the

middle. He knows where it is." The butterfly burst into blue particles
and disappeared just as he finished his sentence.
"P-professor?" Andromeda stuttered.

He stood up from the bed and smiled reassuringly at the teen.
"Rest. I'll take care of Bellatrix."
She nodded with a relieved sigh, and the two sisters' finally relaxed
their shoulders. They know not to question their Head of House, and
to believe in him no matter what.
The curtains were pulled open and Marchosias stepped inside,

closing it again after him. His ruby eyes scanned the surrounding
people before stopping at Bellatrix. There was fury in those eyes and
Marcaunon understood why -Voldemort had personally trained the
adult version of Bella, making her one of his strongest fighters.
"Father." He placed the red trunk on the nightstand beside

Marcaunon. "Do you need assistance?"
The question may have sounded weird to the Blacks, since

Marchosias was only a seven year old in their eyes, but Marcaunon
only smiled softly and shook his head.
"Thank you Marchosias, but can you please inform Madam Pomfrey
that she does not need to firecall St. Mungos?" He unlatched his
trunk and pulled out a pair of skin tight gloves, along with a few
potion bottles and balm. "Persuade her to the best of your…
abilities."
Marchosias gave a tight smile and walked out of the curtain area.
Marcaunon knew that his son could talk a beggar out of his last
meal, but Madam Pomfrey was as stubborn as a dragon, thus him
giving his son permission to use Magic if necessary.
"May I ask what you're doing to Bella, Professor?" Narcissa asked

curiously. Marcaunon turned to her for a second before he continued
to pull out bandages and the likes. If he remembered correctly,
Narcissa was an unlicensed Mediwitch -one of the best (the Dark
Side were lucky to have her).
"Since Bellatrix's skull has shattered and punctured the frontal and
parietal lobe -"
"Frontal? Parietal?"
"The front and top part of her brain." He explained patiently. "I will
need to remove those… bone pieces, put them all back together
again, before fixing her brain… and mind." He simplified with a
grimace. Sounds easy but it takes a whole lot of concentration.
"Pardon me for pointing out the obvious, Professor," Andromeda

started nervously as she bit her bottom lip. "but Madam. Pomfrey
said that it would take a minimum of four healers, including a mind
healer, to heal my sister… And there's a chance that she's already
suffering from mental imbalance."
"Your concerns are understandable, but unnecessary, Andromeda.

She is one of mine, and I will not permit others to announce her a
lost case when she is clearly fixable ." He answered absentmindedly
as he donned on his gloves and applied his special made numbing
balm on Bellatrix's forehead and scalp, after taking out the (bloodied)
bandages of course.
He poured a few potions into Bellatrix's mouth, and massaged her

throat. Pain reliever, a (very) small portion of skele-glue, headache
reliever, fever reducer, blood-replenishing, and infection control -just
to name a few.
He then placed one of his gloved hands on her forehead and the
other to support him on the bed.
"Andromeda, Narcissa." He cut in. "Do not disturb me." The two
nodded hastily when he stared at them both seriously.
He closed his eyes and layered his Magic around her cranium. The
first thing he did was to remove all the unneeded blood, before
slowly and carefully remove the bones penetrating her brain, and
then piece the cranial bones together, similar to a jigsaw puzzle
(except it's all in the same color and have random sizes). A part of
his Magic would hold them together, whilst another part would heal
them permanently -the skele-glue would help as well.
He didn't know how long it took for him to finish the first process, but
he immediately went to the second. He instructed his Magic to heal
her brain whilst he himself would dive into her mindscape. He would
need her to be aware so that she does not fall into coma.
Bellatrix's mindscape was mostly blank (and looked like an

earthquake had just happened), with little to no protection -a good
age to start occlumency would be around sixteen for an average
wizard or witch. He walked around, fixing cracks here and there
whilst trying to find his student's conscious.
"Gaunt." Or the other way round. A weak voice, so much different

from the usual defiance Bellatrix often showed him, was heard from
behind him. "W-where are we? Why are you here?"
He turned to the pale teen, taking in her shaken form and

suspiciously bright eyes -please don't cry. He really didn't want to
deal with a crying Bellatrix. That would be too creepy even for him.
"Bellatrix." He presented her his hand, palms upwards as he smiled.

"I believe it's time we leave."
She hesitated for a split second before latching onto his hand,
almost desperately. He pulled her into a hug and patted her messy
curls reassuringly.
"It's alright." He tilted her chin up so that she could stare into his
eyes. "Will you trust me, child?"
"… Ok…" her voice was shaking. "But only this one time!"
He chuckled lowly, a little glad that the usual stubborn Bellatrix

wasn't lost.
"Close your eyes."
She did so and with a tug, they both left his student's fixed
mindscape, with not even a crack in place (her sanity is safely
secured!). His Magic had fully fixed her brain, skull, and skin, just in
time for Bellatrix's eyes to flutter open weakly.
There were gasps of disbelief coming from around him, but he paid
them no mind as he wiped his damp forehead. Time for the after-
procedure care.
"I demand the usage of Veritaserum in this investigation, Albus." He

crossed his legs as he leaned back nonchalantly, though his eyes
were narrowed behind his rose-tinted glasses.
"May I ask why, Marcaunon? William Waits has already expressed

his sincerely apologies for dropping the heavy bludger due to his
weakening grip." Dumbles asked whilst sucking on those lemon
drops of his.
They were currently seated in the Headmaster's office, together with

William Waits's parents. Bellatrix's parents on the other hand, are
currently in the infirmary, together with their daughters -they wanted
to stay with their eldest for the time being. They would arrive in this
office soon to sue the Waits, and he would enjoy the show. But for
now…
"There is a chance of him lying, Headmaster, and I will not risk it.
One of my students was hurt badly, almost dying before I managed
to heal her." He stated steadily. "My Slytherins have also informed
me that it was no accident, Albus, and Mr. Waits had the intention of
hurting Ms. Black."
"Only Slytherins saw that!" The father of William Waits shouted in

defense as he stood up, his face red with anger. "Suspicious that
only those cunning bastards saw it ha!?"
"Those cunning bastards, as you so eloquently put it, are my
students, Mr. Waits. I will not tolerate you insulting them." He stated
coldly.
"I can call them anything I want, Professor ." The man whose name
he had not bothered to remember spat at him, the spittle flying
everywhere -Marcaunon was luckily out of range. How disgusting.
"Tell me, Professor," The red head snarled. "why only your Slytherins
saw that? My youngest is a better person then all your students
combined!"
"Enough." The Headmaster said sharply, a disapproving frown on his

wrinkly face. The old man had not liked the fact that a parent had
disrespected his employee -the one he favored at that. Marcaunon
hid a smirk behind his hand. Being a cute friendly Badger sure paid
off.
"But Headmaster Dumbledore!" Mr. Winks pointed his finger at

Marcaunon. "He - They're dark! They -"
"Mr. Winks" The greying man shut his mouth with an audible click.
"This matter will be investigated, and with Veritaserum."
"You can't be serious, Headmaster -" Mrs. Waits finally spoke up, but
was cut off.
"Professor Gaunt is the Head of Slytherin, and Hogwarts' Potions'

Master. He has the right to demand the usage of Veritaserum on a
student if necessary." Albus took out a huge tome and flipped it
open, before placing it on his desk in front of Mr. and Mrs. Waits.
"Read rule 401, Mr. Waits, Mrs. Waits."
The two were silent as they read, the woman's face going sheet
white whilst her husband had turned a shade of purple, very similar
to Harry's walrus of an uncle.
"No! Veritaserum's dangerous to young people!"

"Marcaunon?" Albus raised a bushy brow.
"To only children under the age of eleven, Headmaster." He

answered swiftly. "The potion will not cause harm to any that are
older, unless overdosed. The only reason why they are not permitted
by the Ministry for those whom have no mastery over Potions is
because they tend to accidently poison the person they use it on."
"Lies!" Mr. Waits yelled in frustration, those beady eyes glaring at the
two Hogwarts' Staff.
"Mr. Waits!" Albus chided as he looked at the man disapprovingly.
"I already requested for William Waits to be administered

Veritaserum. Will you authorize, Albus?" He cocked his head to the
side with a raised brow.
Albus smiled at the familiar gesture and bobbed his head in

agreement.
"We will administer Veritaserum after we are granted permission by

the Ministry."
In this world, there are laws regarding the usage of Veritaserum. It is

illegal to use it on anybody without the Ministry's permit, and the
parties involved are required to sign a binding contract. They are
only allowed to ask questions that are written on the contract. At
least the Ministry in this world had a few good rules (though not
much).
"Very well, Headmaster. I expect to hear from you soon."
He left the office soon after, leaving it to Albus to persuade Mr. and
Mrs. Waits into giving their permission. Dumbles was a Snake in a
Lion's fur, and only Voldemort, Marchosias, and Marcaunon knew
that.
For the whole week, William Waits had been in the infirmary at least
three times a day. He would enter the white room crying -green skin
to broken bones.
Marcaunon would always turn a blind eye when he accidently

stumbled across his Slytherins in the process of going through their
plans. He would hum to himself and walk away, pretending to be
oblivious to the cries and begs he had heard from William Waits as
his Snakes break bone after bone. They were never caught and
Marcaunon was proud of that fact.
His son on the other hand… Even Marcaunon himself never caught
him on the crime scene. The most painless prank Marchosias had
done to Waits was to make every bone within the Gryffindor's body
disappear (his Slytherins were frightened at the thought of that being
the most harmless out of everything Marchosias did). If Marcaunon
was a squeamish person, he would've turned green and puked right
there and then when he found Waits boneless on the ground, his
skin and muscles sagging, making him look eerily like that Pokemon
called Muk.
On another note, Lord Black was quick to make the Waits regret ever
crossing their family. Mr. Waits became unemployed, and they're
close to losing the place they call home. Marcaunon couldn't wait
until the Veritaserum was administered. Lord Black would definitely
sue them, make them penniless, and then make them the Blacks'
personal human slaves. Not servants, slaves.
Speaking of Lord Black, he had owled Marcaunon his gratitude. This

would've been alright, if not for the fact that that bloody Lord had the
gall to write, and he quote; 'you should be honored that I am
intending to give my youngest daughter's hand in marriage to your
son'.
Lord Black was the one who should be honored that Marcaunon had
burnt that piece of parchment before Marchosias had seen it.
Yeah…
He wrote a respond telling Lord Black that the Black Family owed
him one and left it to that. It gave him night terrors just thinking about
his son marrying Narcissa and producing black-blondies. It was a
disturbing thought that made him awaken at night in cold sweat. Not
a pleasant experience at all.
Location: Hogwarts, Personal quarters
"Father?" Marchosias voice sounded odd and Marcaunon wondered

if he had done anything to anger his boy.
"Yes?"
"Why do I see that bi-Vevila's name on the map?"
Marcaunon tilted his head to look just above his fireplace mantel.
Pinned up was a bigger version of his Hogwarts' Blueprint.
Marchosias has a (bad) habit of spying on Dumbledore daily using
said map. Since this one was an improved version of the Marauders'
Map, there were words beside the footprint -there were no secrets
they didn't know in Hogwarts (blackmail material mostly for
Marchosias). Invading someone's privacy was something both father
and son disregarded.
"Oh. She's here for the interview." He stretched and head towards
his office. "Direct her to my office, alright Chaos?"
"Good afternoon, Madam Malfoy." He greeted the woman sitting in

front of his desk with a polite smile.
"And you, Professor Gaunt." Her eyes continued to blink at a rapid

rate, whilst she pressed forward so that her crossed arms were
resting atop his desk.
"Thank you for coming in today. I certainly appreciated it."

"I should be the one thanking you for having me, Professor."
He nodded at her and opened a folder container her resume and

other information.
"If you could tell me a little bit about yourself, that would be great."
He needed to find out what's so special about her (even though he
would likely choose her since the others were idiots), and why
should he even consider to hire her.
"My name's Vevila Malfoy, and I have been a Potions' Mistress for
half a decade. I have experience in teaching and grading essays -
mostly from tutoring Pureblood children before they start Hogwarts,
and I'm hoping to become a member of the Hogwarts' staff."
"What are your greatest strengths, Madam Malfoy." This was

important for him to know - what she could help with after he had
hired her. For example, Vevila could be good in marking essays, but
doesn't know the correct kind of homework to be given to his
students.
"Hmm… I am great in brewing, finding good quality ingredients,

efficient in paperwork, and patient with my students."
"What are your greatest weaknesses?" This was a way to find out if
she would be honest with him, and herself -humans always try to
hide their weakness and that could be fatal if working with Potions.
She might overestimate herself and the Potion could go boom.
"I must admit that I tend to avoid making Potions that require more
than three days of completion, though I do brew them at least once a
month to keep my skills from rusting."
"Why are you interested in working here?" Marcaunon wondered

why a Malfoy even wanted to work as an assistant, and to see if
Vevila truly has passion for teaching.
Her smile turned weird before smoothing out into one of polite
interest. Marcaunon choose to ignore the glint in her eyes at that
moment, it unnerved him much to his confusion.
"I've always loved being around children, and having the opportunity
to work in Hogwarts is many people's dream -this castle is where our
Magical experience truly began after all."
She sounded genuine enough, even though she said that it was
people's dream, not hers.
"Why should I accept you as my assistant?" This was an opportunity

to sell her skills to him. If he wasn't already set on hiring her, this was
the question that would give her bonus points that could lead to her
being hired or rejected. A smart person would take full advantage of
this.
"As you should know, being a fellow Potions' Master, we have to join
a guild to advance in our title." She looked at him for confirmation
and he nodded. "In my guild, I was in the top twenty when I received
my Masteries. I am a responsible person, I have great work ethic,
and I'm very adaptable."
"Is there anything you would like to ask me before this interview
comes to an end?"
"I do. May I ask what you expect of me?"
"You may. I don't expect much, apart from helping me with grading
and preparing for future lessons. Also, to assist me in brewing
potions for Madam Pomfrey -students get hurt quite a lot in
Hogwarts."
"I see… Everything seems fine to me."
"Is there anything else you wish to ask?"
"No, none at the moment."

"Alright. I will owl you in a few days, Madam Malfoy." He stood up to
usher her to the door.
"I expect good news from you soon, Professor Gaunt."
She smiled that weird smile of hers as they stopped by the door.
Vevila suddenly turned to him and showed him an envelope with the
Malfoy seal on it.
"I would like to invite you and your son to another one of my family
dinners. Abraxas wanted an opportunity to apologize and make it up
to you for disappearing half-way through our meal last month."
"I'll owl my reply to you along with the interview results, Vevila." He
gave her a soft smile, not noticing how her hand had lingered longer
than necessary when she gave him the envelope.
Location: Hogwarts
"Didja hear?" Someone whispered near him as he walked through

the hallways.
"What?" Another whispered back.
"Marrone went missing a few days ago after she was released by
Madam Pomfrey."
"Who's that?"
"You know… The hot blonde in Gryffindor? A seventh year."
"Eh… Her given name?"
"Emma. Emma Marrone."
"Oh her. She has a nice body, that one. How did she disappear?"
"No one knows. Though there's a rumor that they heard her scream
that night before her disappearance."
"That's scary… Do you think the wards around Hogwarts are

weakening?"
"I don't know, mate."
Marcaunon continued his way to his classroom, ignoring the

gossiping teenagers around him -it was something normal (Hogwarts
rumor mill were sometimes plain weird). Emma Marrone sounded
familiar… He shrugged it off in favor of reading his lesson notes.
In the many hidden dungeons on the other side of the castle's wing,
a boy with ruby eyes and raven hair cackled as he continued to
carve demeaning words onto the scarred skin in front of him,
savoring the whimpers and agonized screaming his victim let out. It
was music to his ears.
A/N:
Gosh sorry for the delayed update… again. I've already written a
draft for quite some time, but it took me a so long to put it into real
words and sentences. Damn my disability to put words onto paper…
or in this case, typing words in a word doc. Thanks to this… block of
mine, I wrote another fic that I will not be posting yet (I can't believe I
could write 7 chapters of that, but still be stuck in this one chapter!)
because it needs editing. I've been wanting to write a fic on the
Founder's era for ages… guess I got my chance… sigh.
Onto the reviews; Many of you are practically vibrating with want at
having Voldemort meet the other two Gaunts… and whilst I am
tempted to do just that, he has reasons to not have screen time just
yet. Soon alright? Gehehehe. And for those who think that Marc
needed an assistant… I have given him one! I'm sure you're all
happy to note that Madam Malfoy will be a constant presence in this
fic. Insert evil cackle here.
Thank you all for your awesome reviews and comments. I even saw
some authors that I admire following my fic -which brings great joy to
me. I will see you all in the next chapter! Hmm… We haven't had a
lot of torture and killings huh… I should add that in next time.
Story recommendation for today: And In The Darkness Bind Them

by EpikalStorms. This is a crossover (HP/LOTR) and features
MoD!Harry. He's old as dirt and has trouble forming bonds. Soon he
joins the Fellowship on their journey and relearns how to trust and
form friendship once more. For those readers whom have never
watched LOTR, have no fear… I myself don't watch LOTR but love
the fic. I mean, I don't really know anything about LOTR apart from
this words… "MY PRECIOUS!"
Rainbows and Persistence,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 10
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 10: Frustration, and a new Project
February 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Hidden Dungeon in the… Dungeons
Marchosias paced back and forth, his lower lip swollen due to the
constant nipping of his teeth -he was beyond frustrated at the
thought of Vevila invading their safe haven in Hogwarts. It was
enough to make his blood boil and if doesn't cool down, all the red
liquid in his veins would turn to gas, not to mention the urge to kill
practically hitting its limits (she came second only after the Brat-
Who-Lived-To-Annoy). All of it was thanks to Albus -he allowed that
bloody bint to remain in their living quarters after she was accepted
as Marcaunon's assistant.
A pitiful moan made him pause in his pacing, and he shook all the
thoughts about Vevila out of his mind -that bint would be getting her
deserves soon enough.
But for now…
"My dear, do you know the reason why you're here?" He smiled
softly at the teenager dangling from the ceiling by chains around her
wrists, her toes just grazing the floor - to lessen the strain on her
arms. Merciful of him hm?
The blonde, quite a looker if you ignored all the crude carvings that
littered her nude body, could only whimper in fear as she stared into
his ruby eyes full of mirth -he had skimmed through her mind and
found humor in what she was currently thinking.
"Shall I prove to you that this is in fact, reality?"
"No p-p-please… I never… Why are you…" She sobbed as tears

rolled down her cheeks. "What w-would Professor G-Gaunt say?"
All humor was gone in an instance.
"Enlighten me, Emma." He titled his head to the side, so alike his
mother. "What do you think Professor Gaunt would say if he saw
what I do in my spare time?"
"He w-would be d-disap… pointe-"
She screamed as Marchosias Magicked all her nails from her toes to
land in front of his feet, forcing her to pull her feet higher from the
ground, and putting more strain on her shoulders, arms, and wrists.
Like he would be merciful to people who touched what's his.
"Sorry could you repeat that?" He schooled his face into one of
confusion, showing nothing but innocent child-like curiosity. "I didn't
quite catch what you were saying over all the screaming."
"I… I… haa… haaa… I'm s-sorry. P-p-… please let m-me… unhg…
g-g-go."
"Well… since you're sincere in your apologies…" He shrugged and

used her wand to drag a long table in front of them both, but out of
her reach just in case she tries to kick it away. There were many
tools on it, and her eyes widened with horror. "I'll forgive you… But
only if you give me the correct answer to my very first question."
"W-what?"
"My… how quick of you to forget. Shall I help you remember?" His
left hand hovered just slightly above the handle of a rather heavy-
looking hammer.
"No! I-I remem… ber!"
"Really? Let's hear it." There was only silence apart from her heavy
breathing. "I am not a patient person, Marrone."
"I don't know Ok!? I don't know! What e-else do you… w-want from…
me!?" She panted, half in pain and half out of breathe after her…
rather enthusiastic respond.
"You don't have to be rude about it." He gave her a mock hurt look. "I
think five would be a good number for your insolence."
Marchosias flicked Emma's wand, transfiguring it into a long barbed

whip -oh and were they insanely sharp alright. He circled her slowly,
loving the feeling of being in control, and stopped just behind her. He
could see how she was straining to look over her shoulder, alarm in
those chocolate orbs of hers. Humans are paranoid creatures; they
would often than not try to keep an eye on their potential killer or
tormentor no matter how terrified they are. Leaving their backs
exposed and unguarded would make them feel all the more
threatened, thus leading them to panic more than usual -this
normally made his blood rush south (a quirk that he isn't too proud
of).
"N-no! Please! No no… no!" She begged, not knowing that her pleas
were music to his ears. If his body was that of an adult's (or
teenager), he would be aching with hardness from such delightful
sounds -though he had made it a rule to never touch his toys, it
would dirty him.
He raised his arm and brought it down, almost expertly like he had
done it all his life, on her naked back. There was a sharp snap
before the sound of flesh being slapped was echoed alongside a
shriek of pain.
"One." He gave a toothy grin that went unseen by the teenager as he

counted. "I will make you wish you were never born, Emma
Marrone."
"Two." He swung the whip once again, making sure to enhance his
arm muscles with Magic this time -his first strike was simply pathetic
(in his eyes). Marrone's skin tore under the sharp barbs, and unlike
previously, she now let out a shriek that was almost inhumane,
piercing through the empty dungeons and creating a tunnel of
echoes. "Never touch what is mine."
"Three." He cackled as some of her blood splattered onto his person.

"Know your place, girl -do you seriously think that He would ever
look at you in that way."
"Four." His eyes glazed with pleasure as she let out another throaty
scream that could awaken the dead -it was that loud. "Don't worry
Emma dear, I'll fix you right up afterwards." The words made her cry
louder much to his sadistic glee.
Marchosias circled back to her front and stared hard at her nude
form, the two lumps of fat on her chest was something most women
would kill for -though he easily ignored them, he wasn't into rape
back then and he won't start in this life as well. He frowned as he
wondered why his mother would even consider going on a date with
her -he ignored the fact that Sprout was the one who pushed his
mother into agreeing, or the fact that his mother didn't know that it
was a date not a shopping trip with a plus one.
He sighed, resigning himself to a fate of forever protecting his

mother's innocence (even though he was once pregnant) due to
Marcaunon's dense nature (it was both a blessing and a curse) and
brought down the whip over her chest area, tearing one of her
nipples in the process. The screech she let out made him wince and
take a few steps back. What an amazing set of lungs -and he knows
when to give compliments when it's due.
"Five. Have you learnt your lesson yet?"
He waited for any sign of acknowledgement, but none was said or

shown. He made an irritated sound from the back of his throat after
five minutes of her unresponsive self. Being ignored was something
he despised with venom -Marcaunon had spoilt him rotten (not that
he'll admit it to anyone) and being an ex-Dark Lord made him too
important to be disregarded (he was the center of attention at all
times).
"Another five for deliberately turning a blind eye to my presence."
That only made her wail harder in denial as she tugged on the
chains, wanting nothing but to escape from him. Wishful thinking, but
he will grant her that soon enough in the future. He needed more
entertainment (and oh she is simply a marvelous entertainment
value) before he was done with his newest toy (Emma dear) -and
what better way than to sooth his sadistic nature than to watch her
crawl to the exit, only for him to drag her back the very last minute?
The hope crumbling in her eyes would be extremely pleasing to
witness.
This time, he changed the barbed whip into a leather one that
Muggles were so very fond of -he could never understand the reason
as to why Muggles enjoy being flogged by these things in bed. A
crack was heard as he brought the whip down sharply, leather hitting
flesh. She screamed as her skin tore in a straight line from her left
shoulder to her right hip.
"One. I would advise you to always acknowledge me in the future."

He gave her a mocking smile. The teen's eyes suddenly rolled to the
back of her head and she promptly went boneless -he could hear her
shoulders popping out of place due to the sudden weight load.
Marchosias clicked his tongue in annoyance before casting a
Rennervate spell -she moaned in pain as she was forcefully awoken,
crying as she noticed how her shoulders were dislocated.
"Don't fall asleep on me now, Emma dear." He chided the teen

playfully with a wagging finger before bringing down his whip once
more. This time her skin tore from her right shoulder to her left hip.
He nodded to himself in approval at the perfect X he made. "Two."
"Y-y-you…" She bit her lower lip as a wave of pain washed over her.
"Devil!"
"Try harder, deary -I've already heard that one before." He snorted,
eyes alight with mirth. He remembered being referred to that by Mrs.
Cole when he was Tom Riddle-only five when he was brought to his
first exorcism (eidetic memory can be a curse at times). "Three"
He flourished the whip playfully, smirking cruelly as her body

radiated trepidation. He lashed out forcefully on her left thigh,
wrinkling his nose when she urinated herself. "Four… And now I
have to clean you in case your wounds get infected. What a pain
you're being, Emma dear."
He took out a wand that he had borrowed without permission from

one of the Ravenclaws in the library just a few hours ago, and gave
a few flicks and whispered words. She was unsoiled and the wounds
on her legs cleaned before any infection could take place.
"Perhaps I should punish you for soiling yourself like a child…" He

trailed off with a smirk, taking great delight in her look of despair. He
snapped the whip to her right cheek, not enough to make her bleed,
but enough to give her rope burn. "Five."
"I'm sorry." She crocked. "Please… ahhh!… I didn't k-know… Fo-

forgive… me."
"Don't worry, Emma dear." He crooned lovingly. "Why don't you start
by counting backwards… perhaps from a thousand?"
He saw a flicker of confusion on her face that was full of agony, and
decided to kindly give her a starting push. Marchosias took a
crimpling plier from the table and used his magic to lift her right leg
towards him. He gave her an encouraging smile when she started to
bawl and struggle (like a child going for an injection), and he
hummed peacefully as he slowly crushed her little toe deliberately
slow. "Start counting, Emma dear." Was said over her pained filled
shrieks.
When she continued to only scream herself hoarse, he continued to

the next toe.
"AHHH! A..-alright… wai-… Ok! P-p-please… argh… st..stop!

N..nine… h-hun..dred… and… Ahng… nine… ty… ni-… AHH…
ne…"
Marchosias nodded and smile at her in a proud manner. The only

reason why he asked (read: demanded) her to count backwards was
because it would keep her brain active and mind thinking, thus
preventing her from going insane -slowing the process actually.
Every human has their breaking point.
"Nin..e… hundred… hu..rts… ninety-eig… ht…"
And after a week of counting only backwards, it won't be enough -so

he would have her do additions and subtractions later on. After a
month or so (depends on the person's will and mental prowess),
Emma would have to start multiplication and division, before her
sanity takes a tumble down at a rapid rate -and her death would be
ensured then. He hummed at his genius (this method was created in
his youth when he grew bored of his toys becoming a drooling mess
of meat before their due time) and gave himself a mental pat on the
back.
"I'll release you afterwards, Emma… But not yet. Just keep counting,
my dear, and you'll soon be given a chance." He smiled cutely at the
blonde, not noticing or minding how he was partially covered in blood
-making him look far too much like a fallen angel in Emma's eyes.
"After all, you have to first feel my displeasure ."
Marchosias would forever deny the childish (and somewhat

demented) giggle that slipped out from his lips involuntarily after he
finished his sentence -Tom Marvolo Riddle does not giggle, chuckle
yes, giggle no.
February 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Marchosias's bedchamber
Marchosias stared blankly at the parchment he had repaired from

ash using his Magic -he had grown suspicious when he saw
Marcaunon incinerate the parchment in a hurry the previous day. He
could only focus on one sentence from the whole damn letter as it
continued to repeat in his head word by word mercilessly; 'Honored
that I am intending to give my youngest daughter's hand in marriage
to your son… Give my youngest daughter's hand in marriage to your
son… Hand in marriage to your son… Marriage to your son…
Marriage…'
He ripped the letter apart, ruby eyes turning crimson in rage. How
dare Cygnus Black even think about pushing Narcissa into marrying
him!? Just thinking about it gave him shivers of disgust -just the
thought of a blond mini Tom Riddle running around is enough to give
him nightmares.
He took a deep breath to calm himself, knowing that his mother
would never arrange or sign a marriage for him without his prior
knowledge and agreement -Marcaunon was not like most Pureblood
parents. Without his permission, his Magic had all but burned the
parchment pieces into its original state of ashes.
Alright, maybe he wasn't as calm as he would like to be, but it was

clearly justified. He started counting backwards from ten… make that
twenty. Just as he finished, the door to his bedchambers (Marcaunon
and Marchosias shared one) opened, revealing the current bane of
his existence -Vevila Malfoy. His tranquil state was tipped off
balanced and he could almost see his temper meter going up at a
rapid rate. Get rid of one, and another one pops up from nowhere.
Sometimes he resented Marcaunon's good looks.
"Oh, Marchosias." She looked surprised to see him, and a little

disappointment though she hid it well -but not well enough for his
perceive eyes. Marchosias had to forcefully restrain his snarl at
being address so casually. "Do you know where your father is?"
"Not here obviously." He continued to smile cutely at her, his words

not matching his expression.
"Alright then. Won't you join me to the Great Hall? It's almost dinner
time."
"Sure." He grinned brightly at her with childlike innocence. The bint

just gave him the perfect opportunity to coat her fingers with poison -
and she doesn't even know it. She has a (rather stupid in his
opinion) habit of playing with the rim of her goblet before drinking,
thus making her an easier target for assassins. No wonder she was
killed early before the first war.
He hoped off his bed and shoved his hands into his pocket as he
walked beside her. They made small talk and when they were half
way out the dungeons, he offered his hand to the bint -forcing his
expression to one of innocent eagerness, as if he wanted her to hold
his hand whilst they walk. Urgh… The things he does for Marcaunon.
She cooed at him with that horrible grating voice of hers before they
continued their walk, hand in hand. Too easy, Vebitchla. Too damn
easy. He hid a demented smile by covering it with his other hand,
skipping as if he was on sugar-high.
After they were seated, he discreetly watched as she stretched out

her hand for a goblet of pumpkin juice. Just before she reached her
prize, his mother (what bad timing you have mother!) appeared and
sat beside him, making the bint turn to them with a seductive smile
on her pouty red lips (too much lipstick, woman), hand clasped
tightly together on her lap whilst she pushed forward to make those
chest fats women called breast look bigger.
Marcaunon only smiled back at her, the flirting flying right above his
head without any sign of recognition. Marchosias shook his head at
his mother. How someone in his mid-twenties be so pure was
beyond him.
"Professor…" The bint purred. "I've been looking for you."
"You have? My apologies, I was with Pomona."
He tuned them out, disgusted by the obvious one-sided flirting. He

couldn't wait until her untimely demise. With a minuscular scowl on
his face, he stabbed his salad harder than intended. The other
Professors seemed to disapprove the new assistant's boldness
(she's a married woman for Salazar's sake) -and there was a hint of
pity in their eyes when looking at her, knowing that her advances
were all for naught.
Marchosias's eyes sharpened when he saw her making a grab for a

goblet, anticipation almost making him bounce on his seat
impatiently. Stupid childish tendencies were hard to ignore when
your physical body is that of a seven years' old.
As expected, she played a little with the rim as she continued to talk
with the adults . The goblet was raised to her lips and his grip on his
salad fork increased in pressure. Hurry hurry hurry ! She finished her
drink after a few gulps and he hid a grin around his tiny fork. It
should make her heart fail after a few minutes of consumption.
He waited with bated breath… and was thoroughly disappointed

when nothing happened after ten minutes had passed by. He
frowned and tried to figure out what went wrong, before noticing that
he had actually placed the poison on her wrong hand. Bloody hell.
He couldn't believe it -he was actually getting rusty (of all things) in
his skill of killings!
He groaned, not minding that Marcaunon was looking at him with an

elegant raised brow in question -he had suffered through hand-
holding with that wench for absolutely no reason at all!
March 1967
Location: Diagon Alley
He tilted his head upwards, gazing blankly at the slanted white

building -home to all money loving wrinkled midgets. Marchosias
was tired of not knowing who his father was, and the easiest way
would be to do a ritual via blood magic. It was too bad that the law
stated that only Goblins were allowed, and any Wizards caught
would be sent to Azkaban for a minimum of one year. He knew that
there was only a 0.01% of him being caught in the act, but going to
Goblins was a lot easier.
… Alright he'll admit that he was too lazy to draw the ritual circle, but
who cares. A mistake could cause an explosion of a magnitude scale
and he did not want to leave Hogwarts because of his sperm donor.
It just wasn't worth it.
He spared his pocket watch a glance and decided that he had better
get a move on -his mother would be suspicious if he wasn't back by
dinner. He nodded to the two Goblin guards, which shocked them for
a second before they returned the gesture in kind. Being respectful
to these gold diggers was something he learnt back in his mid-
twenties. They are warriors that demanded absolute respect, and
because Wizards and Witches thought them lesser due to them
being non-human, they tend to deceive humans of their gold.
They were uneasy allies (business partners) -same goes to

Vampires, Giants and Werewolves.
He stood on his tippie-toes, hating the fact that he was not as tall as
he used to be, in front of a counter. Whilst he despised not being
paid any attention to, he knew that Goblins loathe being interrupted
when they're doing paperwork -so he waited.
The Goblin finally noticed him, and the creature raised a brow when
Marchosias actually waited for him to finish up, unlike many others -
he could hear other arrogant Wizards demanding attention from
Goblins at the other counters.
"May your gold flow and your enemies bleed rivers, Elder Goblin."
He could never force himself to say Master Goblin. "I made an
appointment with Bloodmace to see who my birth parents are and
my inheritance via Blood tests."
"May your gold flow and enemies bleed rivers, young one. May I
have your name?" This is the reason why he preferred being
respectful to Goblins -they don't sneer… much, and asked questions
politely (as much as a Goblin can).
"Marchosias Gaunt."
The Goblin barked out in Gobbledygook to one of his colleagues.
"Very well then, Mr. Gaunt. Morningstar will lead you to Bloodmace's
office."
Marchosias thanked the Goblin before following the younger looking

one. There was no need for small talk, but the Goblin seemed
curious as to why such a young Wizarding child would be alone at
Gringotts.
After arriving, he knocked on the door (basic courtesy) and entered
once a rough voiced called out.
"Mr. Gaunt." Bloodmace greeted with a sneer as he perched his

glasses onto his pointy nose.
"Bloodmace." He smiled politely and took a seat.
The Goblin placed a bowl with runes carved on the bottom, and a
silver dagger on the side. Bloodmace explained everything to him
with a snarl here and there for effect, and a wicked grin with far too
many teeth for intimidation, but Marchosias took it in without mind -
he already knew the protocol and was too used to Goblins to feel
offended. Though he would've if he was still young-not to mention his
habit of Crucio (or AK) first, ask questions later.
After Bloodmace had finally stopped explaining (thought he left many

out), he took a needle from his inner pocket, completely ignoring the
dagger beside the bowl. The Goblin raised a bushy brow, but kept
quiet. Marchosias pricked his forefinger and made sure that only two
drops of blood landed into the bowl, no more no less. There were
rituals that could be done with three drops and he would not risk it.
He also ignored the silver dagger because even if he cleaned it,
there could still be leftover blood residue.
The runes glowed red as his blood started to become gas-like, and
Bloodmace placed a blank parchment on the top of the bowl. After a
few minutes, the runes turned back to normal and the Goblin took
the parchment, scanned it, and handed it over to him.
He couldn't hide his eagerness as he read through the results.
Name: Marchosias Mort Gaunt
His eyes twitched at his middle name, almost chocking on his own
spit. How ironic. Voldemort to Marchosias Mort -he ignored the
rational part of his mind that pointed out that he was named after his
godfather, Mort. He idly questioned Marcaunon's sanity for naming
his son death in another language, before shaking his head to clear
his thoughts. He didn't come to Gringotts for his middle name.
Blood-status: Pureblood
Age: 6 / 77
This would be awkward to explain if anyone took a peek at his

results. Physical age 7 (he was seven this year!), whilst mentally 77.
He would have to incinerate this parchment as soon as he finished
reading it.
Parents: Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt (Maternal Father -

UNKNOWN), BLOCKED (Paternal Father - ALIVE)
Marchosias's left eye twitched violently for a few seconds before he

forced himself to remain calm. He should analyze this properly
before making any assumptions. Let's see… The test said that
Marcaunon is his bearer (which he knows), but his status of being
alive is unknown (weird), and his sperm donor… is alive but
unknown.
He growled when realization smacked him in the face. He had read

about a (illegal) ritual that could block a person's biological parents,
and the only way to unblock it is to make the person responsible to
do the counter ritual. Damn his mother for being so throughout!
Counting backwards from twenty, he missed how the Goblin had

looked at him with amusement -he had lost control of his facial
muscles for a few respectable seconds, but it was clearly justified.
Godparent(s): Mort (Godfather - UNKNOWN)
This is getting ridiculous. Seriously. Does his godfather not even

have a family name? Really?
Inheritance Results:
Direct Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt by Blood
Direct Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of BLOCKED by
Blood
Secondary Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin by

Blood, Soul, and Magic
Marchosias took a deep breath in… and promptly let loose a string of
curses in all the languages he knew -and yes, that's a lot.
He stabbed his salad with a salad fork petulantly. Marchosias wasn't

a very happy seven year old right now thanks to his discovery -the
visit to Gringotts was a complete waste of time.
And like any other seven year old that was unhappy with their
parents, he gave his mother the silent treatment and the evil eye. He
viciously attacked his plate of steak with a knife and his handy dandy
salad fork.
He decided that nothing will improve even if he continued to act like

a petulant kid, and forced himself to calm down. He analyzed and
dissected all information he had gained from his visit as he tore his
steak apart without a change of emotion on his face. The inheritance
results showed that his father is a Lord -and he was the direct heir.
Now he would just have to research all the current Lords (and oh
Salazar there were a lot if he included the other countries) and see
which one of them could be his father. Maybe a few characteristics
were passed onto him on his father's side of the gene pool; since his
mother looked far too feminine… he should have inherited his
father's masculinity.
Not that he wasn't an exact replica of his mother -just that he looked
more… manly…
Moving on.
He (luckily) isn't a blonde, so Abraxas is out from his list of potential

fathers. He doesn't have the Blacks' signature curly/wavy hair, or any
of their more prominent features (Black genes were usually
dominant). He mentally canceled out Cygnus from the list as well,
thankfully.
Marchosias paused in his stabbing when he thought of Crabbe and

Goyle… Never mind, he would've turned out a drooling fool if one of
them donated their sperms to his mother. He shuddered at the
thought and quickly ate his potatoes.
A trip to the library for some research it is.
March 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Great Hall
"Marchosias dear." The overly sweet voice of one Vevila Malfoy

made Marchosias cringe inwards. What was she doing here?
"Madam Malfoy." He turned and smiled at her. "Is there something

you needed?"
She stared at him unnervingly and Marchosias resisted the urge to

hex her into oblivion. The words whispered under her breath almost
made him sneer. Almost. "Certainly inherited his father's beauty…"
He cleared his throat and politely repeated his question, which she
finally answered to.
"Your father was called to the Headmaster's office. I am unsure as to

the reason, but it seemed urgent." He has a suspicion that he will not
be liking whatever he's about to hear soon. "By the Professor's
request, I'm here to escort you to your Muggle School." Great…
"That's kind of you, Madam Malfoy, but I'm sure you must be busy
with your students' essays."
"I can't possibly allow a six year old to go into Muggle London all
alone!" She looked scandalized.
"I ensure you I rather go alone then with you." He whispered under
his breath. She took his hand and proceeded to drag him along,
much to his irritation.
Just before they managed to pass through the Hogwarts' gates, the
bint bodily turned him to face her -looking quite disapproving at him.
"Where are your shoes, dearie?"
He looked down at his bare feet, not seeing any problem -shoes
were constricting things and his toes preferred their freedom.
"No idea." He had all but kicked his shoes away after the dinner at
the Malfoy's -so it was probably in the dungeons near Slytherin
territory.
After a long droning lecture from the bint about how shoes were
made to protect people's feet, she finally apparated him to his
Muggle school. Thank Salazar for small mercies.
The class was as noisy as ever, and thanks to his lovely (vengeful)
mother, he was dragged back into his age group. He now has to
persevere with drooling, loud, non-disciplined, dunderheaded seven
year olds that were running around the classroom, throwing spitballs
at one another (disgusting flobberworms) for entertainment.
He of course threw a massive tantrum worthy of an ex-Dark Lord,

but because of the promise he had made to himself to never hurt
Marcaunon again… He couldn't do anything else but try to make his
mother change his mind -which failed spectacularly since he's still
here. Lord Voldemort keeps his words, and Marchosias Gaunt will as
well.
At long last, Ms. Austin arrived with a cheerful smile on her face. His
classmates finally settling down and they did their customary
greeting.
"Good morning class!" She chirped happily, one of her hands already
reaching for her pointer stick on her desk.
"Good morning Ms. Austin!" They greeted back loudly. One of the
reasons as to why Marchosias hated attending school here was
because he would have to place a child's mask constantly to avoid
suspicion -albeit a mature one. The other reason was because there
were Muggles everywhere. Everywhere!
"Now boys and girls… Today we're going to have some new friends!"
His teacher announced happily. Right on cue, the door opened and
in came three young children. Marchosias cocked his head to the
side, intrigued at what he was seeing.
The tallest of the three was a thin boy, with pale skin, and a hooked
nose. His shoulder-length black hair framed his face in curtains,
though they didn't hide his dark penetrating black pools and frowning
brow. The boy's lips were curled in an almost grimace as he stared
at his soon to be classmates' eager faces. Marchosias could spot a
few fresh bruises on his legs (shorts were made as uniform) and
some on his face, partly hidden behind his hair, and he had a
suspicion as to where they came from. He also knows that the
teachers would only assume that he was an energetic child whom
constantly tripped or got into fights often, not child abuse. Never
child abuse. Marchosias's lips twitched downwards for a split second
in displeasure -Muggles were oblivious creatures that needed
exterminating.
The girl beside him was the shortest out of the three newcomers,
with light skin, and a cute button nose. Her dark red hair came down
in elegant curls to her waist, and she made a perfect picture of what
a Muggle fairy tale princess would look like. Her green eyes shined
brightly, but it didn't come close to the beautiful shade he had come
to known with Potter (or the Killing Curse). She smiled sweetly at the
children, making many of the boys swoon -weren't they too young to
be attracted to the opposite sex? Marchosias knew that she would
grow into a beautiful woman, and she would still appear attractive
even when her eyes dimmed due to death.
The last was a tall, thin girl, with nearly twice the usual amount of
neck a normal person should have. Marchosias could only describe
her as a two-legged horse in human skin, wearing a ponytail dark
blonde wig that reaches just pass her middle back. Her eyes were
dark, and he could make out a small pursing of her thin lips, making
her look more like a horse than ever with her bigger than average
front teeth. The only redeeming quality on her face was her nose,
which was straight and triangular -like she had done plastic surgery
but that was impossible due to her young age.
They three wore the school's uniform and were welcomed with loads
of clapping on his classmates' part.
"Now now class, settle down." The teacher called out. She turned to
the closest -the shortest, and smiled reassuringly. "Why don't you
three introduce yourselves to your new friends?"
"Hi! My name's Lily Evans." The red hair girl introduced herself with a
sweet shy smile that made the teacher coo. "My favorite color's pink
and I like to read. I'm sure we'll all be good friends!" The class
cheered and clapped loudly, much to the teacher's amusement.
"Severus Snape." His future Potions Master stated moodily, and

Marchosias could see that many were intimidated by his mere
presence. The clapping wasn't as boisterous, but majority of the girls
were whispering to one another, and he could lightly make out the
word fanclub . Marchosias didn't know whether to grimace or laugh
at the sheer idiocy -again, weren't they a little too young to think
about relationships?
"Hello, I'm Petunia Evans. I hate freakish things and people." The
horse-like girl glared at her younger sister when she spoke the last
part, making Marchosias tilt his head to the other side. She was that
type hm… Jealousy is unbecoming of a lady (not that she could be
one), dear Petunia. The class clapped politely, but most of them
looked confused at her choice of words.
"They'll be with us until their school has finished rebuilding -"
"Why?" One of his classmates shouted curiously.
"Billy, you should raise your hands next time." She chided lightly.
"Sorry Ms. Austin."
She smiled at the boy and gave him a pet on the head, making him
grin brightly in response. "Their school was… burnt down. So the
children are transferred to schools near them whilst they wait."
After a few more minutes of his classmates questioning the new

kids, Ms. Austin ushered the three to their seats. Severus was
placed next to him, and Lily just in front -he didn't bother checking
where the horse sat. It seems that Muggle School had just became
interesting this year. Perhaps he could make a pet project to kill
time…? Operation Ensure-Snape's-Undying-Loyalty commence!
A/N:
As always, I would like to thank everyone for such wonderful

reviews. Such joy it brings to my aching heart when I see positive
comments and feedbacks. Also, I would like to dedicate this chapter
to my favourite reader and fellow writer; Of Stories Told .
It has come to my attention that I have never told you readers what
Marchosias's middle name is… So there we go. He was named after
his godfather (Death!) and because Marc thought it would be funny
to name Marchosias after a shorter version of Voldemort.
*As to clear up any misunderstandings on the pairings, this will be

LV/HP, not TMR/HP. This means that Marcaunon will end up with
Voldemort(LV), not his son Marchosias(TMR). Marcaunon and
Marchosias's relationship will be purely father-son love.*
For those who think that it's weird for Dumbledore to go along with
the truth serum thingy and not defend his Lion much more fiercely,
remember that Marc is his favoured employee and he trusts Marc
explicitly due to his Hufflepuff nature and friendly status (even if he's
currently Head of Slytherin and related to Slytherin himself). Besides,
Voldemort has yet to start terrorising the public -Dumbledore has no
real reason to mistrust Marc.
Now we get to see how protective and possessive of his mother

Marchosias really is. Emma won't be found any time soon… Being in
a body of a six-sorry, seven year old could be extremely stressful. He
needs something to vent on hm? Insert evil cackle here.
Lastly, I inserted Severus, Lily and Petunia in this chapter because

when I was busy browsing through Youtube, I came across a video
of British people celebrating the burning of Guy Fawkes (I was
looking through celebrations and holidays). I was thinking that
maybe a fire would destroy a school and some transfer students
could arrive for Marchosias to make friends with -and who better
than those three? I actually thought about making James Potter to
be one of the transfer students, but it would be weird since he's a
Pureblood and would probably be homeschooled until he's eleven.
Pity.
Oh yeah, before I forget… I moved Snape's generation to becoming

a year younger, so they're born at the year 1961, and will be
attending Hogwarts with Marchosias. Since Mini-mort's birthday is on
the last day of the year, he would have to attend Hogwarts when he's
reaching 12 (just like in the canon!). So yeah, I miscalculated and
had to bring the Marauder generation back one year than their
original age. Also, I'm making it so Petunia is Lily's half-sister, so
their age doesn't have much difference, only their birthdates. Tunie's
a squib since only one half of her parents came from a Wizarding
family, whilst Lily on the other hand is a descendant of squibs -thus
making her a First generation Pureblood. It's confusing but it will be
explained further in the future.
Story recommendation for today: My Brother, the Hero: Version 2-

point-0h by FalconLux. I actually preferred the first version rather
than the second, but since Falcon will be updating number two, I'll
have to recommend this~ This is the usual Twinfic where Harry's not
the BWL(I'm unsure if it's WBWL or not). Harry isn't really neglected
in this one, but… How do I put it…? He's expected to be the evil twin
just because he's sorted into Slytherin and has Voldie's brother
wand. I love how Falcon made Harry's character out to be, sarcastic
and brilliant. LV/HP pairing. Oh I can't wait for the update. Insert
twinkling eyes here.
Rainbows and Dungeons,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 11
latter. MoD!Harry
Main Pairings: Harry/Voldemort (Marcaunon/Voldemort)
Side Pairings: Pending

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 11: You-Know-Who, and Disaster field trip
April 1967
Location: Slytherin Manor
Sitting near the fireplace with a glass of firewhisky in hand,

Voldemort stared into the flickering flames deep in thought, the fire
creating shadows around the dimly lit room. His face held no
semblance of emotion, and with his too still form, one would think
him a doll -a very handsome realistic one.
With elegance that many would envy, he lifted the glass to his lips -
lips that many could only dream of kissing- and took a sip, relishing
the burn his alcoholic beverage provided.
Abraxas seemed to have everything going well for him in his political
career, and Voldemort had ordered his blonde ex-schoolmate to
court the members of the Wizengamot into siding with him, and also
introducing him into the world of politics. There were bills Voldemort
wanted them to approve of -like Wizarding orphanages for starters.
He would be playing in both fields -politician and Dark Lord.
If the blonde were to fail his given task, Voldemort would make an
example out of him, though Abraxas would only be losing a limb or
two seeing that his heir was still too young to be of any real use.
Whilst still on the thought of the Malfoy family, Voldemort lips twisted
in displeasure. Vevila, the Malfoy matriarch, was becoming more
than a little infuriating. Every time he called his inner circle for a
meeting, she would openly ogle him. It was disturbing and even after
a round of Crucio, her disrespect still showed in the form of a
lecherous stare.
He was tempted to mind rape her, but she still has her uses -being
his Potions' Master and infiltration specialist. Her mediocre potions'
skill would only worsen and he had no other followers that could best
her in potions' making just yet. It was not as if his skills were inferior
to hers, quite the contrary actually, but he was just too busy to brew
potions all day in preparation for any injuries in the future. He made
a mental note to get a list of competent Potions' Masters from Vevila
the next day.
With a slight tilt of his head, a few strands of his dark locks came
loose and brushed against his cheek. His long fingers tugged the
wayward strands and slipped them behind his left ear smoothly as
his lips formed a slight smirk at the thought of his non-human allies.
The Dementors were excited and Voldemort was slightly put off at
the cause of it. He had of course made a visit to Azkaban a few
weeks ago to speak with the Lord of Dementors, but the answer he
received was a highly disturbing one - Master is providing us with
more brothers and sisters . But since those cloak wearing positive
emotion stealers were still upholding their part of the bargain (their
aid in exchange for souls of those who defy him), he just shrugged it
off (though still cautious) and decided that it was just a Dementor
thing.
The Werewolves on the other hand were a headache to deal with.

The few times he visited, he had to glare those overgrown mutts into
submission when they persisted in trying to convince him that being
a werewolf would only benefit him -they conveniently forgotten that
he would lose his mind during the full moon, not to mention the pains
of transformation. Fenrir would only bark out a hideous laugh as he
watched on at the sidelines -the Alpha was carefree and would do
absolutely nothing unless one of his packmates were bold enough to
attack Voldemort, and vice versa of course.
They were easy to convince, seeing as they only wanted a land that
they can call their own to roam free without restrictions (a reserve for
when they transform), and that their kind could walk in the streets
without getting killed (basically Werewolf legalization). They also
wanted their young ones (that were Magical) to be able to attend
Hogwarts, which he didn't mind except on one condition, they had to
be locked up in the dungeons when it's the full moon -they agreed,
albeit reluctantly.
Just thinking about those idiots was enough to form a headache of

epic proportions. He drained his drink to clear his thoughts and just
as his lips left the rim, it was refilled -disciplining his houseelves had
been fun, but now they don't make even the slightest of mistakes,
much to his great disappointment.
He batted away the thoughts concerning Giants, because let us all

admit it, they were dunderheads and would follow Voldemort without
a thought just because he had offered them their very own (giant)
mountain if they were to give him assistance. After he became the
ruler of the Wizarding world, it would be easy to keep his part of the
bargain. Everyone knows that Giants made excellent meat shields
with their thickened hides, and the Light Side would never lower
themselves into casting the Killing Curse -he chuckled lowly at the
thought (a very seductive sound that could send pleasurable shivers
down one's spine).
He hummed as his mind drifted off to the more bloodthirsty of his

allies, the Vampires. It had taken him years to court those blood
suckers to his side -and he had to remain in Albania because of that.
But at least he managed, and he did learn a lot of both Dark and
Light Magic there. With debates and arguments that would often
than not lead to bloodshed, the Vampires finally agreed to feed from
blood banks -Wizard edition of course. Building a blood bank and
making a rule that every Wizard and Witches were required to
donate their blood weekly would definitely be enough for them (of
course there would be a contract stating that the Vampires will only
be using their blood for feeding, and not others such as rituals).
Vampires don't really need blood daily to sustain themselves unlike

what those Mudbloods love to think (they should remove all their
Muggle beliefs already once they stepped into HIS world), they just
prefer it because it makes them feel alive. Those cold blooded
creatures crave for warmth, similar to serpents -they're just unlucky
that sunlight burns them rather than take away their coldness.
His last, but never final, non-human allies are the Goblins.
Bargaining with them was simple enough (shockingly), since he
knew from the start what they wanted the most. Freedom. Voldemort
would allow them to run their banks independently from the Ministry,
unlike those Light Wizards -especially those who are biased in
thinking that non-human equals to evil.
Just the previous day, he had gathered all his non-human allies'
leaders into one room and had a meeting with them. Everything was
up for debate as he told them his plans for the Wizarding world -not
all mind you. Everyone was agreeable (after a few glares and death
threats if they were to raise their weapons) and they would be
striking soon -he already made plans for raids in the very near future.
All the (nightly) planning for this year is about him gaining the title of
Dark Lord, and since he's as ambitious as his ancestor, he has
already made plans for the upcoming years -he'll be forming
international human allies (which he already formed for some when
he was traveling the world).
His smirk became feral as he cackled. War will soon arrive, and
many would fear even mentioning the name of Lord Voldemort.
April 1967
Marcaunon watched his son from within the shadows, slightly

disturbed at how… happy he appeared. Marchosias would usually
tend to brood for reasons unknown to Marcaunon, but now, he
seemed… light -there was no other wording to describe it (he was
bloody bouncing in his steps for Salazar's sake!). It was downright
creepy and Marcaunon wanted it to be stopped (or put a stop to it).
His scarlet eyes followed how his son's lips twitched upwards into
something akin to a smug smile before it was replaced by the usual
mask of boredom. How terrifying! Marcaunon shuddered. Whatever
that boy's planning, it doesn't look good.
He gnawed on his lower lip as he fretted about the possibility of his

son turning into a Parasite lover -which was 0.01%, but who knows!?
" Marcster." His beautiful constant companion hissed in question,

his scaly nose brushing against Marcaunon's cheek in a tender way.
"What ails you so? Will my venom aid?"
" I'm sure Chaos would mind being bitten, my sweet."

Marcaunon smiled fondly at Suki and kissed the snake's triangular
head.
" Is little Master being difficult again?"
" Not at all, pet." He stroked his companion's dark scales as his
eyes lingered on his boy. "He's only… making me paranoid."
Marcaunon was awfully worried at his son's change of attitude. What
if he fell in love with a Mudblood attending Parasite school…? He's
77 year old and that would be called pedophilia -which Marcaunon
won't accept even if his son is mini-mort!
Before he could continue with his (sorely mistaken) train of thoughts,

McGonagall spotted him and decided to drag him to the head table
for some breakfast -which he allowed her to since he was indeed
feeling quite ravenous. Suki had returned to being his scarf, much to
his amusement. His lovely pet loathes humans, with Marcaunon and
Marchosias being the only exception (he was terrified of Death, like
all animals were).
"What were you doing lurking in the shadows, Marcaunon?" She

looked at him with disapproval as they sat at their appointed seats.
"I wasn't lurking." He retorted and gave the witch a playful glare.
"Any young lady you find fancy? Or maybe a bloke?"
"None whatsoever, Minerva." He paused in his meal to stare at her

incredulously. "And why a bloke?"
"Most women prefer to have men that don't look prettier than them."
He sputtered. Again with the jokes about his looks. He didn't really
look that ugly… right…?
He grumbled as his colleague giggled. She continued to poke fun

about his looks until Marchosias cleared his throat to point out that
he needed Marcaunon's signature for a field trip. He could only stare
at his boy with a ' What the fuck? ' look, his eyes comically wide with
disbelief.
Marchosias was always the first person to throw away any consent
forms -to be free from any trips the school may have planned for
their students. It was mind boggling that Marchosias, a psychopath
and a sociopath, wanted to attend an excursion filled with gaggling
children.
"Please tell me that that's an April fool's joke." He deadpanned.
He was given a similar deadpan in return. Marchosias didn't even

deem his question worthy enough for a reply. He only paced a piece
of paper in front of his mother and pointed at the blank space.
Without thought and on reflex (due to years of paperwork),
Marcaunon signed it, much to his horror.
Before he could erase his signature, the paper was snatched back
by a smug looking little boy -oh you evil, evil reincarnated devil.
Marcaunon narrowed his eyes behind his rose tinted glasses. He
would get to the bottom of this phenomenon, or his name isn't
Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt.
April 1967
Location: London, Aquarium
Marcaunon made a very convincing imitation of a fish out of water,

before he rubbed his eyes, and became a fish some more. He just
couldn't believe what he was seeing. His facial muscles spasm as he
stared at the boy whom was a smaller and non-greasy version of
Severus Snape.
He took a deep breath in and held it for ten seconds before

releasing. Marcaunon repeated that a few more times (uselessly)
before his knees wobbled and he quickly leaned onto the pillar
beside him for support -his legs felt like jello.
The feeling of his nails cutting into his palm brought him back from
his state of shock. He was luckily out of sight of any of Marchosias's
classmates. His hands shook as he covered his mouth to contain a
squeal that almost slipped out of his parted lips. Mini-Snape looked
so cute -with cheeks that were still clinging to some baby fat he had
and child-like doe eyes. Who would've thought that Snape's eyes
were huge before he got into the habit of narrowing those orbs in
irritation? Well, dunderheads could do that to people.
He hummed in thought before his face split into a shit eating grin. He
schooled his expression into one of boredom -similar to Marchosias-
and sauntered towards the party of four his son was in. The two girls
had their backs to him, so he didn't really recognize them -but luckily
they felt Magical, though the blonde felt more like a squib.
Marchosias was the first one to spot him, and Marcaunon had to
force down his amusement when his stoic son actually did a double-
take at seeing him here in person. Snape looked at Marchosias
weirdly before he tried to turn towards Marcaunon's direction.
Tried was the keyword.
Marchosias had turned on his heel and ushered his three company
away quickly without making it seemed like he was running aw-ah
sorry, making a tactical retreat. His son doesn't flee after all.
Unlucky for them, their legs were shorter than his and after a few
more strides, he was directly in front of mini-Snape. He smiled
pleasantly (creepily) at the dark haired boy, whom took a step back
in alarm, and parted his lips to speak.
"Hello." He greeted, his smile growing larger when he saw

Marchosias's expression out of the corner of his eyes. "What a cute
little boy… Are you perhaps Chaos's boyf-"
"What a… lovely surprise, father." Marchosias brutally cut in, his

smile becoming similar to Marcaunon's. "Though I would rather have
you seated behind your desk of never ending paperwork than here
actually."
"Ah but Marchosias, my desk is perfectly clean of any paperwork"
My eyes were practically shining behind my rose tinted glasses. "and
since I needed some fresh air, I decided to go out on a stroll. You
can't imagine how surprised I was to seeing my adorable son in the
same location!"
"Indeed… How curious that you've decided to take a stroll in an

aquarium of all places."
"Perhaps I needed a change of… ah, scenery."
They both smiled at each other pleasantly for a few minutes before
their impromptu staring (glaring in Marchosias's part) contest was
interrupted by one Severus Snape.
"Your father, Marchosias?" The childish voice of Snape made him

snap his gaze towards the child and smiled broadly. How adorable!
"I am indeed Marchosias's father, Marcaunon Gaunt. You may call

me Marcaunon or Marc for short." I extended my hand towards
Snape, which he took and shook politely.
"It's nice to meet you, sir. I'm Severus Snape, your son's classmate."
"My, what a polite young man." He crouched down to Snape's eye

level and smiled -though for people who are close to him, they would
see it as a smirk. "Chaos should learn from you."
"… Marchosias is already polite enough, sir." Snape's cheeks were

tinted with red as he ducked his head down.
Marcaunon suddenly had the urge to squeeze the future Potions'

Master to death for sheer cuteness -it was illegal to be that adorable.
Why couldn't Chaos be this way? He inwardly pouted at the way
Marchosias behaved on a daily basis -which consisted of reading,
eating, reading, and did I mention reading?
As if sensing his thoughts, Marchosias cleared his throat and
glowered at Marcaunon before smiling at the two girls that were
standing behind them.
"Father, let me introduce you to Lily-" He turned towards the two

ladies. "and Petunia Evans."
His smile froze and he felt as if time was slowing down as he stared
into his childhood tormentor -that fucking child abuser. He saw them
curtsied and their lips moving, but his ears refused to cooperate with
his brain. The shy blonde child in front of him overlapped with the
image of a sneering Petunia with a frying pan in hand, holding it up
as if she were ready to strike him at any given moment.
("You freak! If only you've had died with my whore of a sister!
" P-please aunt P-petunia… I'm hun-… I haven't e-eaten in three

days…"
" Then make yourself useful and die from starvation somewhere
else, boy!"
" Aunt-"
" I AM NOT YOUR AUNT! NO FREAK IS A FAMILY OF MINE!"
" B-b-but-"
" VERNON! GET THE BELT, THE FREAK IS DOING SOMETHING

FREAKISH AGAIN!"
" N-no! I didn't! It's not me! I -")
Marchosias blinked owlishly when his mother froze at the sight of the
two-legged horse -she wasn't that ugly… was she? Well, maybe she
was.
His vacant eyes were staring beyond the girl's as if seeing someone
else in Petunia's place. Marchosias crossed his arms when he felt
his very core freezing, his breaths coming out in puffs of air -with
everyone in the area looking more or less terrified of what was
happening. Some were even running around in panic.
The lights flicked a few times before they darkened and the feeling of
happiness (which he didn't have much so he wasn't as affected as
the rest of the Muggles and his soon to be minions were) seemed to
be sucked from the air -the atmosphere was colder than in the winter
time and he swore to Merlin he saw frost on the aquarium glasses.
The Muggles surrounding them suddenly collapsed, one by one, as

they screamed and groaned in despair -they all appeared depressed
and grief stricken.
Dementors were the first thing that came into Marchosias's mind, but
those cloaked creatures don't stray far from Azkaban unless they
were ordered by the Ministry (or him… or the other him actually).
Something in his mind clicked into place and he turned towards his
mother.
The ground Marcaunon was standing on was frosted and

Marchosias actually felt something similar to fear when he saw the
crimson glow in his mother's eyes. Those were the eyes of someone
who was enraged and full of uncontrollable anger. Someone who
would let their anger control their actions to the level of insanity.
Marchosias feared it like no other because that was something he
experienced on a daily basis during his previous life as Voldemort.
He remembered looking into the mirror in his previous life -looking

into those very same eyes every day. He saw the Evans sisters on
the floor as they hugged each other for warmth and Severus already
on his knees, his hands holding his head as he mumbled out
incoherent words.
He stood in front of Marcaunon and cupped those soft cheeks with

his (shaky) hands. Marcaunon didn't even notice him.
"F-father." He called out uselessly. "Mother… mother, stay with me!"
Suki slithered on him in a hurry and when the snake coiled around
him, he felt the poor snake's freezing body. He whispered a warming
charm under his breath for his two cold blooded companions and
hissed reassurance to them.
"Mother! Mum! Please… Please come back to me. Don't lose your
sanity… Why are you even losing it in this type of place, mum!?
What has you so distressed…?"
He gnawed his bottom lip, knowing what he'll have to do. A butterfly
landed on his hair.
"Fetch Mort."
If a butterfly could salute, it would've done so. Rather, it burst into

blueish particles and not before long, Mort's inky black portal
appeared, followed by said person. There were no words exchanged
as the man rushed towards them.
"What happened?" His godfather demanded as he touched

Marcaunon's shoulder tenderly. His mother suddenly went limp and
fell into Mort's awaiting arm.
"Mum suddenly froze when he saw Petunia-"
He was cut off.
"I understand. Act as if this has never happened." Mort raised a hand
and without further ado, snapped his fingers. Marchosias felt a wave
of unknown Magic wash thorough the whole aquarium and the
surrounding became normal again, though everyone's eyes were
glazed. "I've already altered their memories. I'll be taking Master
back to our cottage for today."
"Is mother…?"
"He'll be fine. Keep a butterfly with you at all times, it'll take you back
to the castle by your command -better than any portkey."
He could only stare as Mort walked through the inky portal with his
mother carried bridal style. What happened? Why did Marcaunon
react negatively when he saw Petunia? Did they have history
together? Why did it feel as if his mother was a Dementor? Who the
hell is Marcaunon Gaunt -why wasn't he there in his first life?
Why was his mother such a bloody enigma!?
"Are you well now, Master?"
Marcaunon sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.
"I am. Thank you for that, Death. I would've murdered that bitch the
very moment I came out from my memories."
"Give me an order and I'll make her disappear."
"I'll do it myself, Death, but not yet. I need her alive for Dudley to be
born." He got up from Death's lap and smiled bitterly at the immortal
being. "It seems like my emotions are harder to control in the face of
my tormentors than I had originally thought."
"Marchosias will want answers." Death paused before It continued. "I

apologize for not altering his memory, Master. A master Occlumens
would know something is amiss even if he can't break free of my
alternation."
"He will, won't he?" He murmured. "Don't worry about it, I've got it
covered."
"He'll find out soon enough, Master. He's Tom Riddle after all."
"I know… But I'll prolong the inevitable as much as I can."

Marcaunon turned away from the entity as he closed his eyes tightly.
"I'm not ready to be hated by him just yet, Death."
A/N: More like rants. Insert sweatdrop here.
Well… I am ashamed to say due to my sleep deprived carelessness,

I accidently deleted the whole chapter that I've already fully edited. I
was so shocked that I stared at my laptop's screen for an unknown
duration of time before I let out a blood curling scream of despair.
Yes, it was so loud that it woke my brother up (and he's a heavy
sleeper that could sleep through tons of alarm clocks). I was so
devastated that I could only brood all day and night, trying and
FAILING to recall the proper contents to this chapter.
Anyway, on to the lighter side of things, I managed to piece

everything together to form a… somewhat close enough chapter to
the original. Yay… though with lesser words. Damn it! At least we
now get to see what Voldster's been doing! Insert grin here.
I thank you all for the reviews and I hope to see many more from
you!
For those who are asking about Marchosias's pairing… I am unsure

and hesitant in giving him one. Perhaps I could put up a poll for
when he's older or something. Maybe I'll even make Lucius/Chaos
just to annoy everyone! Gehehe! But for now, I'll be concentrating on
the main pairing… which has yet to even start!
Oh and I'll be putting up a [Torture Warning] next time before I do a

torture scene, since we all have different tastes. Those are usually
not important to the plot anyway -it's my way of venting my inner
sadist.
For those who really can't take my grammar, use your mind to reform
the sentences/words so that it'll be up to your standards (I do that to
some other fics with really horrible grammar… I'm a hypocrite
gehehehe!). I am not planning on getting a beta anytime soon.
Story recommendation for today: Of Sin and Blasphemy by Of
Stories Told. This fic was actually the one that gave me the idea of
making Harry becoming Tom's biological father. It was something I've
read a long time ago so I didn't really remember the title of said story
to put it in my prologue. Only when I was browsing through my
'alerts' section did I spot it. This fic is post-war, and Harry is pregnant
with… Voldemort's child or reincarnation -I still have yet to figure it
out but I'm betting on the latter. I am unsure of the pairing, but young
Tom seemed to be overly possessive over Harry, so I'm guessing
that it'll be incest (I don't know!). Contains MPREG so if you're not
into guys being pregnant, don't bother reading this -though it's kind
of like a onetime occurrence.
Rainbows and Mermaids,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 12
latter. MoD!Harry
Main Pairing: HP/LV (Marcaunon/Voldemort)
Side Pairing(s): Pending

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 12: Confrontation(?), and a well-deserved Vacation
April 1967
Marcaunon was unmoving as he stared into his son's ruby orbs,

absorbed by his wondering thoughts and whirlwinds of emotions just
shimming underneath all of his occlumency shields. The two were
both seated at the opposite of one another, with Marcaunon unable
to break the silence that came with Marchosias's (expected)
entrance.
Death, that traitor, had fled the scene, stating with much solemnity
that he didn't want to be in the middle of two people whose temper
are on par with a pregnant woman's during a difficult labor. Both of
the two humans had developed a tic on their temple at being
compared to a hormonal soon to be mother, but kept their lips sealed
-knowing but not admitting that their tempers were actually worse.
He knew that he was acting like a petulant child that was caught red
handedly stealing a cookie from the forbidden jar, but he inwardly
shrugged it off. Silence is great and makes the world go round -it
wasn't as if he was afraid of Marchosias's reaction. Pfft, of course
not. Really.
"Will you explain?" Marchosias's voice was like hot knife cutting
through butter -sharp and melting. "Or will you continue with your
unwanted silence?"
Seeing no way out of it, Marcaunon sighed and leaned back, whilst
still maintaining eye contact. He wasn't worried about Chaos reading
his thoughts, seeing that he had mastered the art of occlumency
back when he was in his forties -his shields were utterly destroyed
by Snape and he had to rebuild them from scratch, which took half a
decade just to have basic protection.
"She looked similar to the child version of one of my childhood

antagonists." He wasn't outright lying, mini-Petunia did look like Aunt
Petunia, with lesser wrinkles.
"A childhood bully is enough for you to lose control over your
Magic?" He raised a brow. "Or have I overestimated you?"
"A mere childhood bully would not be my undoing, Marchosias." He

scowled at the insult he received.
"Was she not a mere bully to you then?"

"… She was somebody who constantly… loses her grip over her
frying pan when I am near."
"She physically abused you?" Marchosias gritted out as he narrowed

his already crimson eyes -a sign that he was royally pissed.
"I wouldn't call it abuse, just disciplining."
He looked at me with disbelief and Marcaunon grimaced inwardly at

the wording. Harry Potter used to think that every child gets their
head whacked by a frying pan when making breakfast incorrectly,
and it was engraved in his mind that it was called discipline by his
guardians, not abuse.
"That's called abuse, mother."
"I would only call it abuse if that resulted in a concussion."
"Muggles…" Marchosias's eyes narrowed dangerously and he held

in a shudder -he looked similar to Tom Riddle when the teen ordered
the Basilisk to kill Harry Potter. "You lived at an orphanage
throughout your childhood, is that right?"
Marcaunon was tempted to reply with "What, no 'mother'?" but

pushed that out of his mind. It wouldn't be smart to tickle a sleeping
dragon -a Hogwarts' Professor should follow the school's motto after
all.
"Yes." Keep the answers short and simple Gaunt.
"Was this look-alike a worker there?"
"No."
"… I understand that you would prefer to keep your childhood to

yourself," His expression was understanding, but his tone stated
otherwise. "however, don't I have the right to know as your child?"
And there it was -emotional manipulation via guilt. Luckily he was
immune to such things thanks to Dumblefuck.
"Of course you do, love."
"Your silence and answers state otherwise…" Marchosias's

expression was suddenly schooled into one of hurt. Marcaunon
didn't buy it at all. "You call me love, but do you really love me?"
… He almost shuddered. The word love coming out of Marchosias's

lips was disturbing at best. Even though he understood that his son
does indeed care for him, having Tom Bloody Riddle ask such a
question was giving him goosebumps.
Marchosias seemed to have picked up his discomfort and

Marcaunon could practically see the eyeroll he was mentally
receiving. Mentally, because everyone knows that it was below
Marchosias to roll his eyes when having a serious discussion.
"It's just that…" Marcaunon school his features into one of

woefulness and slumped his shoulders forward as if the weight of the
world was on them. "I would prefer to let the past be just that, the
past. There's no need to complicate it with retelling."
Truthfully, he would rather burn the orphanage to the ground, but

hey, Voldemort beat him to it. Wool's Orphanage was destroyed by
the younger version of his son just as Marcaunon graduated from
Hogwarts and moved into Dormus Mortem.
He could still recall the sheer devastation he felt when he saw the
burnt down orphanage. He had already planned how to get rid of
said orphanage, but thanks to Voldy, it was all ruined. His late night
planning was all for naught.
"A lie like that would not fool me." Marchosias sneered. "You are the
type to take revenge on those who have wronged you, not sit back
and forgive those insects."
… His son knew him well. Too well actually.
"You make it sound like I'm a killer."
"Are you not?"
… Again he could not rebuke that.
"What if I told you that I don't wish to talk about it because it's too
painful of a memory?"
"Then I would call that person -which clearly isn't you- pathetic."
Marchosias spat out with disdain, which Marcaunon couldn't help but
agree with. It was rather pathetic in his opinion -like father (mother)
like son then. "Very well, then so be it. We will be returning to this
topic eventually, your secrets are yours to keep for now ."
He almost sighed in relief when Marchosias ended the interrogation.

This was one of the many times when he wished that Marchosias
Gaunt was born without Tom Riddle and Voldemort's memories. It
would've been so much easier, but alas, he would've felt lonely with
being the only human to remember his war against Voldemort. How
contradictive of him -but weren't all humans like that?
"You shall be telling me about your Dementor-like abilities however."
… And here he thought it was over. Anyway, he could use this as a

chance.
"I'm afraid that that is the result of being an inborn Necromancer."

Which was somewhat true. Necromancy is one of the many
subgroups of Death Magic, and because of their close ties to Death,
they have abilities similar to Dementors. Though not as extreme as
the creatures -or him actually, since Marcaunon's affect is stronger
than those creatures.
"You're an inborn Necromancer?" His tone was indifferent, however

Marcaunon could clearly see the surprise inside his son's eyes.
Here it is. He could kill two hornbills with one spear. He could make
Marchosias think that Necromancy was the only secret he was
keeping (apart from his childhood), whilst also informing him about
his heritage -Death Magic could be passed down to his descendants.
"Yes, and once you're old enough, I alongside with Mort will be
teaching you the arts."
"I'm a Necromancer as well?" Marchosias's cold mask shattered to

be replaced by a look of eagerness and greed.
"You are, but not, as well."
"What do you mean?" He all but demanded in his 'Voldemort voice',

though a lot higher in pitch.
"I'm planning on performing a ritual on you actually." Marcaunon

admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. Chaos would find out soon
anyway, better now than later -having a genius for a son was tough
at times.
"And pray tell what were you planning on doing with me?" He
ignored the wide eye and suspicious glare he was receiving.
"Upgrading you into a Leiche."
"… Turning someone into an animated corpse is not something one

would consider an upgrade!"
"I'm not turning you into an… animated corpse!" He paused. "Well,
kind of."
"What!?"
"Calm down."
"I am calm!"
"… I can see that."

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated at this moment of time, mother!"
"Let me explain." He waved for his boy to return to his seat (he had
stood up right after Marcaunon's admittance about wanting to
perform a ritual on him). "You are to discard all the things you have
read in books regarding Liches. My version of a Lich does not
consist of undead, decaying, or skeletal bodies. You could say that
the person I perform my ritual on will stop aging and have their
hearts removed from them.
"The still beating heart will then be placed inside a ruby that I made
and hidden someplace where nobody should know -it is a Lich's one
true weakness so of course it'll be hidden. The body of a Lich may
be killed or destroyed, but their souls will just detached from the
corpse and enter any other human's body, thus making it their own -
like clothing."
"I'll be immortal…?" It was a whisper that Marcaunon shouldn't have

heard, but he did nonetheless. "Are there any other Liches alive at
this point of time?" He could see it in Chaos's eyes that if there were,
he would hunt them down and be the only one.
"Yes and no. Normal Liches that were made by Necromancers are in
existence, but the one I had explained to you are not. The ritual I
invented will turn the Necromancer into a living Lich, not create one
using a corpse or human."
"How can you be so sure?" Marcaunon caught on the hidden

question of 'are you one as well? ' and decided to take insurance of
his wellbeing -just in case, one can never be too careful even with
kin.
"It has already been tested yes." He ignored the real question. The
many screams of despair those Parasites made was music to his
ears.
Marchosias scowled (pouted) at him and just as his boy's lips parted,
the door to his study creaked opened, revealing his assistant.
Marchosias's lips formed a sneer for a split second before it was
gone. His son's hatred for all Malfoys was something quite amusing
for Marcaunon, and he idly wondered if that hate came from the
betrayal of Narcissa and Draco when he was Voldemort.
"Ah! There you are, Professor." Vevila sauntered towards him with
her hips swaying from side to side. Marcaunon raised a brow,
wondering if her panties were causing her any problems -women are
always harming themselves over beauty products (heels, G-strings,
and breast implants, nuff said).
"Vevila." He greeted with a slight nod of his head. "Is anything the
matter?"
"I was hoping that we could walk to dinner together?" Her eyelids
were twitching irregularly whilst Marcaunon just continued to blink
normally. He was not one to make fun of anybody with a medical
condition (muscle fasciculation), so he ignored it of course.
"We'll be done soon." He waited for her to get the hint that her
presence wasn't required any longer, but it seemed to have gone
over her head as she stared at him with half-lidded eyes. Never
before has he seen a Malfoy so… dumb… Excuse his lack of better
wording for there was none other to be used.
Marcaunon sighed under his breath and stood up. He rounded his
desk and gently picked Chaos before swinging his boy to his hip.
Like on instinct (and perhaps muscle memory), Chaos wrapped his
slender legs around Marcaunon and buried his face in the crook of
his mother's neck.
"Are we alright now?" He whispered.
"Yes… mother. We are." Was whispered in return. Good to know that

their relationship had not gone sour.
Marcaunon's arms tightened slightly before he turned towards the

Malfoy matriarch with a pleasant (in her eyes anyway) smile on his
face.
"Let us be off then."
Whilst they made their way to the Great Hall, all thoughts about
Marcaunon's childhood was pushed back to the furthest part of
Marchosias's mind as his sole focus was about his newly acquired
Necromancer status. Marcaunon would have patted himself on the
back for a job well done if he were to know his son's train of
thoughts.
May 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Marcaunon's study, secret room behind the

bookshelves
Marcaunon was, as usual, reclining on his elegant yet pointy sword

throne as he signed yet another document pertaining someone's
very detailed cause of death. As his crimson (yes his rage meter was
off the charts) eyes darted from one parchment to another, he threw
his hands up in frustration.
Each and every one of them died the very same way -eaten to death
by another human, though some endured longer than others (poor
them, being chewed alive was unpleasant and Marcaunon would
know).
"Are you bloody serious!?" He yelled, outraged. The endless stacks

of Deathfiles towering over him didn't help his mood either.
Without a thought of his poor servant that would likely have to clean
up after him, he swept every of his items off his mahogany desk with
vengeance. This resulted in all of his neatly stacked folders to scatter
all over his tiled floors. Frustrated beyond belief, Marcaunon didn't
hesitate to will them into the magical induced fireplace with a hard
thrust of his hand.
Though more than half of the folders were sent flying into the
fireplace, they remained unburnt, much to his displeasure. Death
must've made sure that they were immune to fire by now, seeing that
Marcaunon's tantrums were worthy of any three year olds when in
the face of paperwork.
A dagger was suddenly materialized in his hand, and with an

almighty battle cry that would make any war veteran look like little
girls, he stabbed the scattered folders repeatedly with much
satisfaction… only to howl in frenzy when they came out unscathed.
"How dare you tinker with these abominations and give them
immortality, Death!? Paperwork are never supposed to be
indestructible!" He yelled out as he continued to ruthlessly stab the
parchments without the desired effect.
Seeing that his mind was in the state of hysteria, he didn't notice
when the room's entrance parted or his son's frozen form at the sight
of his flailing arms -daggers still present- in the air, screaming bloody
murder to nothing whilst the floor was littered with folders,
parchments, quills, and broken inkpots.
"… Mother." A childish high pitched voice broke him from his state of
derangement, and his mouth closed with an audible click of teeth.
A few deep calming breaths were taken (he was kind of mortified for
his lack of self-control) before he turned to his cute little six year old
baby boy, a twitchy smile on his face. Sadly, it didn't reach his eyes
that were boiling from demented determination -making them glow
an eerie crimson.
His adorable boy was dressed cutely in a black cat onesie (that he
was forced into by Marcaunon earlier), with little pink triangular ears
atop its hood, and holding the long tail in his chubby hands close to
his chest -as a child would hold their favorite blanket.
"Is there something you need, love? Mummy's a little busy right
now."
His boy eyed him warily, cautious as if with a wild and untamed
animal. Marcaunon was oblivious to the thoughts running within
Marchosias head, which was something along the lines of listing
mental illnesses -paperwork induced mental illnesses that is.
"I heard screaming… and wondered if there was anything wrong."

He talked slowly whilst those ruby eyes roamed the secret room,
which only the two Gaunts know, taking in all the mess and finally
stopped on the unmoving form of Marcaunon.
Marchosias was scrutinizing the young man -whom looked like he

just got shagged rather brutally- with his mused up hair, flushed
cheek, disheveled clothing, and heavy panting.
"Fine. Everything's fine. Why don't you head down to the library until
dinner? I'll even write you a permission slip into the Restricted
Section."
Marcaunon gave a carefree grin and stood up from his knees

smoothly without waiting for his son's answer. He sauntered to his
desk and blinked owlish at seeing only wood. As if he just noticed
that his parchments and writing tools are on the floor, he accio-ed
them and was quick to scribble his signature and permission on it.
Not minding the wreckage he had caused (as if a tornado had swept
by), he stepped rather forcefully on the folders as he practically
glided towards his son. He handed the note and turned the stock-still
boy before gently pushing Chaos out the entrance.
He hissed out the command for the entrance to close and reinforced
it with Magic so that it would remain shut and soundproofed. After
another once over, he strode towards his desk, circled it to his throne
and slumped on it ungracefully with a tired sigh.
"Death."
"You called, Master?" The voice of Death spoke from behind him -
and he would've jumped if he wasn't so used to it.
Marcaunon gestured towards the folders, which were still scattered
throughout the floor.
"What the bloody hell happened?" He asked tiredly as his eyes

narrowed on the (undamaged) Deathfiles. Death stood at the middle
of the wreckage and raised a brow.
"I believe this is the result of…" Marcaunon cocked his head to the
side as he listened with attention at the omnipotent being. "Another
one of Master's endless tantrums."
He deadpanned at Death's smirk and groaned. Even after two

decades of being with the immortal deity, he was still exasperated by
Death's constant need to annoy him to death.
"… I am in awe of your spectacular conclusion, Death. Bravo!" He

sneered out, although not unkindly -more like resigned.
Death chuckled fondly (not a friendly sound if one were to not know
It well) and gingerly picked the nearest folder up. It skimmed through
the documents at an inhumane rate, Its eyes moving left to right and
up to down. Marcaunon could clearly see his servant's face, seeing
that Its hood was for once down without prompt -It was probably
relaxing somewhere (a battlefield perhaps) before being called.
Its features were ethereal, with waist length hair as dark as the night
sky and was parted to one side neatly, a few strands tucked behind
Its pierced elongated pointed ears -the Deathly Hallows symbol
glinted when lights hit at a perfect angle.
It looked similar to what Harry Potter once appeared to be before his

soul was contaminated by Tom Riddle's, although taller and with
neater hair. The aura the omnipotent being emitted was awe-
inspiring and spine-chilling at the same time, making many animals
(and mortals with higher intuition and instinct) fear being in Its very
presence for more than a few seconds. The reason why his beloved
familiar wasn't in the room as well -Suki had all but fled (through a
snake hole) at the mention of Death's name.
Its eyes were the color of death itself, the same shade of green as
the Killing Curse (or Harry Potter's previous eye color), stood
contrast to Its naturally ashen skin tone. Marcaunon knew that only
blackened blood flow through the immortal's veins, seeing that those
were the main ingredients for the creation of Dementors.
Its long elegant fingers twitched as It closed the folder gently. With
an uncharacteristic scowl on Its features, Marcaunon knew that
those bloody Deathfiles were trouble. Just his luck.
"It appears that another universe is going through a zombie

apocalypse at this very moment."
"Inferi?"
"Zombies."
"Animated corpses from Necromancers?"
"Zombies."
"Experimented Wizards that had their brains tinkered into loving

flesh from their own kind?"
"Zombies."
"Rituals of human eating mud golems -"
"Zombies."
"… The kind that came out from Parasite TV programs?"
Death nodded wisely with a hint of amusement in those Avada

colored orbs. Marcaunon blinked once, twice, and thrice as his brain
tried to process the information that yes, zombies are indeed real -
not inferi, but real brain eating zombies. So the programs that
Duddikins love to watch on TV were actually real…?
"I'm sensing that there's more, and that I won't like it one bit."
"Master won't."
"… I'm ready, so hit me." Death raised Its arm as if to really hit him
and Marcaunon gave a (manly) squeak. "Not literally!" Being hit by
Death wasn't in his to do list, and it hurt like hell (that's saying
something since his pain tolerance was as high as the sky).
Death looked at him with innocent eyes and his brow twitched at the
expression. Death and innocent don't belong in the same sentence.
"I was hoping that this would not happen until Master is used to
paperwork," Like hell he'll ever be used to those abominations!
"since I have yet to encounter another zombie apocalypse in nearly
millennia."
"Just tell me about the bad news already!" The suspense was killing
him.
"The folders would continue to grow until…" Marcaunon became

pale at the mere mentioning of more paperwork. "All the zombies are
dead."
"How long does that usually take?" Marcaunon dreaded the question
just as it left his lips.
Death sighed and rubbed Its temples with those slender fingers of
Its. He suddenly had the urge to issue Death an order -to run those
digits through his untamed hair just to sooth his growing headache.
As much as it pained him to do so, he resisted the temptation.
"Either until the dimension itself explodes -no dimension is able to

sustain at not having any living creatures in it- or a mortal creates a
cure to counter the mutation. It could take up to decades."
"Decades!?" He cried out, horrified. "I'll have this amount for

decades!?"
"… Yes Master."

This can't be happening. He would not take this lying down. Just the
usual stacks of paperwork were more than enough for him to have
sleepless nights-
An idea suddenly came to him and it made Marcaunon grin broadly.

Death's body became tensed as It saw Its Master's grin -It had
already learnt the hard way that that kind of grin would normally
meant that Its Master was planning something, and that something It
would probably not like (or wish to know).
"You are able to travel to different dimensions, are you not?"
"… Yes…"
"And I am able to as well, am I right?"
"… Correct."
"Will there be any complications, seeing as I am not de-aging

myself?"
"I don't see a problem with it." There was a suspicious glint in
Death's eyes and he smiled reassuringly, which actually brought out
the opposite effect -not that he noticed of course.
"Is the time corresponding with the time here?"
"Time matters not to me, Master."
"That settles it then." He stood up with an excited shine in his scarlet

orbs. "We're going on a vacation tonight, Death!" He was never one
to stand idly whilst slowly being killed by paperwork. If a cure is
needed to cut his workload down, a cure he will assist them in
making.
"… Pardon? Master?"
Marcaunon ignored Death's flabbergasted expression and skipped

towards the entrance, intending to pack. With him being excited as
he skipped along, he missed two owls that had entered through his
door (which had an owl flap on it) and dropped their respective
letters on his desk.
One was address to Ignatius Rose, whilst the other was address to
Marcaunon Gaunt -both from the same sender.
A/N:
Hahaha… I'm actually guilty of not posting this sooner because

I thought I already did… for the whole week actually LOL. I was
wondering why nobody was reviewing and saw that this chapter
was actually missing from FF. Insert blush here.
Warning and Disclaimer number TWO: There will be minor

cross-overs in this fic, and I do not own any of them! Bet
nobody saw that coming yeah!
So yeaaaah… This is the reason why I intentionally wrote "Universe

Hopping" at Disclaimer number one since the prologue. This has
been preplanned and was not taken out of my arse at a moment's
notice, so suck it up if you hate crossovers! Silk Roads is from my
imagination and I have the right to put in anything I want. I decided to
post this on FF because I wanted to share my story with anyone
willing to read it, not because I am oblige to post it.
Forgive me for being an arse, but really, if you don't like reading
HP/LV, why in the sevens hell would you even read this!? The plots
are my own, and I don't have to bend it because a few of you don't
like where this is going (or the relationships my Marc will be having).
Really… I don't have a twisted mind because I like Harry pairing with
Voldemort. Insert sneer here.
Well, enough of my rants… You can of course request where

Marcaunon will be going in the future chapters if you so wish it. I will
do my very best to add the universe in without the plot being too
disturbed -ranging from Animes to Games to Movies to Books
(Avengers, LOTR, Inheritance Cycle, KHR, Bleach, Naruto… etc
etc).
Death is everywhere so being the Master of Death, Marcaunon has

the privilege to hop around from one universe to another. Isn't that
exciting!?
Moving on from the Universe Hopping thing~
… I. Just. Can't. Do. Dialogs! ArghHH! It's hard to have a

conversation with yourself! Tsk, how do other writers do it!? Do they
talk to themselves on a daily basis? Insert muttering here.
Many apologies for sometimes changing third person POV to first

person POV! I am kind of experimenting on this idea of a
reincarnation into KHR fic and I'm learning to write in first person
POV… The first few days were a bitch since I kept on changing to
3rd, and now I keep on changing to 1st! The horror! Insert pulling of
hair here. I'll be sure to double, no triple check everything SLOWLY
once I finished editing for all my future works. So if you spot some
errors, my bad.
Story recommendation for today: 60 Years in a Summer by Isys

Luna Skeeter. This is a splendid Harry raises Tom fic… but with a
slight twist in it unlike other clichés -only once every year for Tom,
and every night for Harry. Time Magic is a complex thing. Harry
struggles to see Tom within Voldemort, and also his feelings for the
boy who he thought as a brother. Voldemort on the other hand is
straight forward in his feelings. HP/TMR pairing, Time Travel.
P.S. The pairing for Marchosias that you reviewers gave will be
noted, no worries!
Rainbows and Footie Pajamas,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 13
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 13: Dropped to another dimension!
May 1967
Location: Hogwarts Dungeons - Study
"Death?" Marcaunon called out as he directed his clothes into his

bottomless sling shoulder bag via Magic.
"Yes Master?"
"I was wondering…" He started. "Why am I the one doing another
dimension's paperwork? I thought you've already assigned a Head
Reaper for each respective dimension to do it?"
"They're ordered to evacuate their dimension when a virus induced

zombie apocalypse happens -and to only go back after it settles or
after Life created another world to replace the previous one."
"… Wait wait wait." Marcaunon raised a brow at Death. "There's

Life? I thought there only existed the Creator?"
"There is. Life and the Creator are one and the same. However Its
not corporeal as I am… It just is."
"Alright…?"
Death only shrugged Its shoulders lazily and Marcaunon got the
sudden urge to smack the entity. Was it that hard to give him a
proper explanation?
"So when all your reapers evacuate, all the paperwork fall to me?"
"Yes. To put it bluntly, Master, the world has a 99% chance of

exploding -and I would rather the Head Reaper pass his workload to
Master than risk recreating all of that world's reapers."
"Can't they do it during their free time? Or wait until the very last
minute?"
"The world may explode at any time, and they don't have free time,
Master. Once they leave, they head to their dimension's parallel
world to help their colleagues."
"… Just admit that you're being petty, Death."
It shrugged nonchalantly with a smirk on Its features. How irritating!
"Where do all the souls go if the world explodes?" Marcaunon zipped

his bag and slipped it on his shoulder.
"They'll still remain in their respective realms at that dimension,
though their suffering will prolong -for sinners that is. Life requires at
least millennia to recreate a world -and all the living beings- from
scratch."
Death followed a step behind him as he moved towards his

bathroom. With a snap of Marcaunon's fingers, all of his toiletries
were inside his bag. He double checked that he had not left anything
(which wasn't really required since he could just conjure them)
before nodding to himself.
"So each dimension has their own set of souls?"
"Yes."
"How old is my soul by the way?" He asked curiously as he tried to

fight a losing battle with his hair. Perhaps a comb wasn't the most
powerful of weapons…?
"As old as I am, Master." Death answered in his own mysterious way
that made Marcaunon's brow twitch in what could be identified as
annoyance.
"So are there souls older than you?" Death snorted inelegantly and
Marcaunon raised a brow. Seeing the ethereal being in front of him
snorting was weird.
"I could be considered the oldest."
"What about Life?"
"That thing can't be counted." It stated rudely as Its lips tilted

downwards.
Marcaunon was the one who snorted this time. It seemed to him that
Death despises the entity called Life -not surprising really. They're
polar opposites.
"You said I am as old as you, but you also said that you're the oldest
in existence… Quite contradicting." He supplied with a slight shake
of his head.
"Indeed."
He waited for Death to continue… which obvious It would not.

Marcaunon resisted the urge to run a knife through his servant's
torso and took a deep calming breath.
"Forget it." Marcaunon murmured as he pinched the bridge of his

nose tiredly. "Just to clarify once more… We'll only be gone for a few
seconds in this dimension even after spending years in that zombie
infested one?"
"Yes Master."
"Alright. How do we travel?"
"Like this, Master."
Without even a warning, a portal opened beneath Marcaunon's feet.

He only had a split second to process the lack of footing before he
squeaked (a very manly squeak) out a few curse words that would
make even the most brutal of sailors blush like school girls.
"DEEEEAAATHH!"
Death could only cackle as It watched Its Master fall through the inky
portal. It was always one to hold grudges -and It had a lot thanks to
Its Master's constant temper tantrums. And to answer Its Master's
previous statement, yes, It was being petty. Coffee stains were hard
to get rid of.
Date: Unknown
Location: Unknown
Dimension: Unknown
Marcaunon groaned as he held his head with both hands, trying and
failing to relieve his growing headache. After Death (that fucking
bastard) had dropped him through the portal, quite literally he might
add, he landed on his face and died on impact due to the great
height. Even though he revived soon after, the experience of his skull
and brain regenerating was unpleasant -thank Merlin for his high
pain threshold.
After he gave up on trying to reduce the headache, he scanned his

surrounding area and noticed that he was currently in a forest,
surrounded by nothing but trees. He absentmindedly swatted away
some red butterflies that were flocking his bloodied hair before doing
a double take. Why were his (always) pure white butterflies red?
He poked one of the butterflies that were swaying in front of his face
and blinked owlish when his (extremely sharp) nails stabbed right
through one of the wings. This one's too fragile. Marcaunon turned
his head around and frowned when he saw none of his.
Should he wait for Death to appear and explain where he currently

was and where his precious butterflies were?
… Maybe not. Death's petty streak was probably going to continue

for a while longer. He actually died from the unexpected fall! What
kind of prankster kills their victims in one of their pranks!?
Just as Marcaunon was about to stand up, he heard rustling and

turned towards the sound.
Standing just a few meters away from him was a freakishly tall man
with pale skin, almost the same shade as Marcaunon's, and a fairly
toned stature -he was slender and it made him appear more taller.
The man's short hair was sleeked and spiked at the back, and
Marcaunon stared at the color -intrigued by it. He idly wondered if
the neon pink hair was natural.
The man's sharp, thin slanted amber eyes (what a pretty color)
showed his Asian origins, however his facial structure and nose
stated otherwise. Marcaunon tilted his head to the side as he tried to
imagine the man's sharp cheekbones cutting through glass and
nodded to himself that yes, the man's face was very pointy and if
Marcaunon were to ask a woman of her opinion, she would declare
the man a hottie without a thought.
Other than his features, what attracted Marcaunon to constantly

stare at the man's face was because of the two painted symbols on
either of the man's cheek. A maroon star was on his right cheek, and
on the other was a green teardrop. His clothing was similar to that of
a jester, and as Marcaunon's eyes travelled downwards, he noted
the pointy jester shoes (no heels sadly) -the bell hat was the only
piece missing. On his left chest was a white circular badge with the
number 384.
The man's lips were tilted upwards and Marcaunon had a feeling that
that was his permanent expression. Judging by the appearance,
Marcaunon deduced that the man has a playful personality, though
because of the aura he emitted, he added in sadistic as well.
"Kimi…" Marcaunon's brain translated the rest of Pinkie's words into

English -Japanese was one of the languages he had previously
learnt. "… I didn't see you at any of the Hunter exam stages before."
Pinkie stated as his tongue flicked outwards to lick his lips.
Marcaunon traced the movements before amber met scarlet.
"Hunter exam?" Marcaunon frowned and slowly stood up. "This may
seem like a really foolish question… But are there zombies roaming
around?"
There was silence for a couple of seconds before Pinkie chuckled

creepily.
"Not at all~" He sang with mirth dancing in those amber orbs. "Your
head must've been hit quite hard for you to imagine such things~"
Marcaunon touched his bloodied head and glared at the appendage
-to be reminded of his death by Death made his blood boil with rage.
"Ah… An unfortunate landing is all." He waved nonchalantly and

hummed in thought.
So Death had decided to drop him off at the wrong dimension -

intentionally he might add. Death had never made a mistake before,
he would know. Its pettiness has gone up to another level. The
reminder of his paperwork increasing every minute whilst he was
uselessly wondering around made his blood pressure rise.
Just as sudden as his rage went up, it disappeared the next second
with a sigh.
"I'm getting soft…" Marcaunon murmured before asking Pinkie. "Is it

alright if you would point me to the direction of a town or city?"
"Hmm~" Pinkie took a few steps closer as he mockingly hummed in

thought. "Who knows?~"
Marcaunon deadpanned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, where

his spectacles were currently not perched on -damn Death for
making him lose it… and damn this guy's attitude. Pinkie was
definitely the sort to only give out information if it made him gain
something -a Slytherin through and through.
"Do you even know where we are….?"
"Hisoka."
"Right. Hisoka then."
"And to answer your question… Not at all~"
Marcaunon resisted the urge to facepalm and let out a huff of air. It
was obvious that the man was lying. Was it that hard to give a solid
answer from the goodness of one's heart?
"Well then, it was nice meeting you, Hisoka." Marcaunon started to
walk away, but Pin-Hisoka was suddenly in front of him.
Marcaunon startled and took a step back in shock. How in the seven
hells did Hisoka…? He doubted that this person knew how to
apparate -there was no Magic in his system, but there was
something else. A reason why he didn't outright kill the man for being
a Parasite.
Maybe Hisoka was the result of a genetic mutation? Marcaunon was

one to never deny his desires, so if he wanted to know something,
he would do everything to find the answer.
"Hey… What do you call that?"
"Call what?~"
"The energy inside of you." He tilted his head to the side curiously as
he trailed his eyes downwards until they reached Hisoka's torso,
where the origin of it all was located at.
"Oh this?~"
Marcaunon noticed immediately that the energy had seeped into the
poker card in Hisoka's right hand. The card was then thrown to him
and Marcaunon blinked when it embedded into his left shoulder.
"Yes that. I've never seen something as curious as that." Without

much thought, his Magic froze the body standing a few steps away
from him.
Hisoka's expression changed from playful to wary instantly.
"What did you do to me?" Hisoka demanded with a narrowed eyed

glare. It would've spooked Marcaunon out by the murderous intent
Hisoka was focusing on him, however he was already used to such
things thanks to Voldemort.
"No need to be alarmed," Marcaunon started as he walked towards
Hisoka. "I only wish to check on something."
Marcaunon grabbed Hisoka's chin and pulled the man downwards

so that they were both at eye level (how he wish he was just as tall).
He dived into Hisoka's mind and grabbed all the useful information
he needed for this world.
In that split second that Marcunon was within Hisoka's mind, the
man (victim) himself felt agony beyond anything he had ever
experienced and gritted his teeth to stop the scream that almost
slipped out from his lips.
Marcaunon found out that this man, Hisoka, was also known as
Hisoka the Magician. He was obviously male, blood type B, and was
born at the month of June 6. The physically older male was twenty
eight years old and Marcaunon had to whistle at that. Hisoka looked
no older than in his early twenties. That was some good genes he
inherited.
Hisoka's favorite food, if it could be called that, was gum -Bungee

Gum to be exact, and he likes stickers as well. He actually collects
them because he thought they were cute. Marcaunon hid a chuckle
and continued on, not minding at all that he was violating a person's
privacy.
The man's fighting ability was graceful as it was cruel. He changes

his fighting abilities depending on his opponents, and has immense
physical strength -he was even able to shatter rocks and
incapacitate skilled fighters with just his pinky finger. Marcaunon
doubted that the Parasites in his dimension could even hold a light to
this man (people would normally call him a monster, but wasn't
Marcaunon one as well?).
Other than the man's strength, his speed, flexibility and reflexes
were top notched as well. Marcaunon was thoroughly impressed and
decided that he wanted to know more (he was totally forgetting his
original purpose).
Hisoka's pain tolerance wasn't as high as his, but it was something
to be commended for. They both won't blink at having their limbs cut
off, but Marcaunon doubted that Hisoka could still continue to appear
unfazed when having acid poured into his wounds and organs.
What interested Marcaunon more was Hisoka's brilliant mind. The

way this person thinks and strategizes was almost at the level of
Tom Riddle, and that's saying something. Marcaunon suddenly had
the temptation to drag Hisoka to his dimension, kicking and
screaming, before pushing the thought out.
When he finally remembered his original purpose of his visitation to

Hisoka's mind, he mentally berated himself and dived deeper -
forgoing the man's background.
After a few more twists and turns, he finally stumbled upon the
information regarding the energy he was so interested in. The
energy was called Nen, or Mind Force, and is a technique that
allowed a living being to use and manipulate their own life energy,
also known as aura.
Aura is an energy produced by all living beings. They are vital and if
one were to lose their entire aura, it would be equivalent to using up
all the energy that was keeping them alive -which would prove fatal.
The pores or points on the body from which the energy flowed out
from are called Aura Nodes, and controlling those nodes was the first
step to being a Nen user.
The methods of learning and initiating Nen wasn't something

Marcaunon could do, seeing that his Magic wasn't the same as this
dimension's aura -his was far superior (modesty wasn't something
he and Chaos knew… mentally that is).
Marcaunon was disappointed but carried on.
There were a lot information regarding this, and Marcaunon idly

skimmed through them. If he were to stay in this dimension for more
than a week, he would dive into another person's mind for further his
knowledge, but for now…
A Hunter is someone that has already proven themselves through

rigorous examinations to be an elite member of humanity.
Marcaunon doubted Hisoka was something humanity would even
consider elite -perhaps an elite villain. After they passed the
examinations, they are rewarded with a license, and with that
license, they are able to travel anywhere around the world or do
almost anything -even murder without going to jail.
Normal Hunters would devote themselves to tracking down priceless

items, mystical places, and the unseen wonders of the world,
whereas Hisoka wanted to be a Hunter so that he could legalize his
kills.
A shrewd way of thinking, but Marcaunon agreed whole heartedly.
Hisoka was currently at the fourth stage of the Hunter examinations.

Each of the examinees are given a card with a number that
represented the badge number of their target, and is required to
steal said target's badge whilst protecting their own. The methods
are up to them, so killing was accepted.
They were currently at Zevil Island, and it way very, very far away
from civilization.
He exited Hisoka's mind and just as he left, Hisoka dropped to the

ground twitching ever so slightly.
"Ah… My bad." Marcaunon apologized (not at all sincere) to the

fallen man. "It's been too long since I legilimized someone." Mind
rape actually, but that word is so crude.
Hisoka stood up on shaky legs with a death glare aimed towards

Marcaunon.
Whilst the man was feeling murderous rage at him, Marcaunon
himself was impressed. A normal Parasite would've died soon after
he left their mind, but this person actually disregarded what was
considered normal.
"What did you do to me?" Was gritted out.
"I merely took some information I requir-" He was interrupted by a

familiar presence and sighed through his nose. "I already said I was
sorry for spilling coffee at your favorite cloak didn't I, Mort?"
Death's sudden appearance made Hisoka jump away from them. He

could sense that the jester was terrified of Death, like all others that
had powerful intuition -they knew on instinct that Death was
someone they couldn't kill.
"Master is only sorry if it involves little Lord." It stated matter of factly

before grinning widely, Its sharpened teeth on display. "I apologize
for entering the wrong coordinates for our destination. Shall we be
going?"
"Like hell you would make such an elementary mistake." He

whispered under his breath before nodding. He turned towards
Hisoka and smiled honestly -the man reminded him too much of his
son. "Perhaps I'll come visit you with my son some time in the future,
Hiso-chan."
With that, Death wrapped one of Its arm around his waist and a
portal opened underneath them. The last thing he saw was Hisoka's
wide eyed intrigued gaze.
Date: Unknown
Location: Unknown
Dimension: Unknown
Marcaunon blinked to clear his vision once he felt Death removing Its
arm around his waist. His scarlet eyes roamed the area he was
currently at and he arched a brow.
All types of vehicles were abandoned, overturned, destroyed or

currently on fire. The street was littered with all sorts of papers,
chairs, bicycles and dark red stains. Some of the street poles were
even broken or bent in weird angles. The building doors were wide
opened, as if people had rushed out, and almost all the windows had
spider cracks and reddish liquid on them. He could literally smell the
familiar metallic tang of blood and fear in the air.
A newspaper suddenly flew in his direction and he snatched it out in

the air -a seeker's reflexes and eyes are always on alert.
The Raccoon City Times
THE DEAD WALK!
Horror in Raccoon! More victims dead!
The dead are walking, and it's no movie advertisement. There were
several eye witnesses-…
He grinned. It felt great to be on vacation.
A/N: Weeeee~ It's my birthday today so I decided to post early

to celebrate~
Ok so, this is like a testing chapter. Sorry it's so short, but hey…
There's another chapter coming soon! I was so happy to receive so
many presents that my mind worked on overdrive… Hoooorayyy~
For those who have no idea what dimension (anime) Death had
'accidently' dropped Marcaunon to, it was Hunter x Hunter 2011
version! A great anime show I would recommend all of you to
watch… Lots of killing~
… For the reviews…
For those who are questioning about the two letters that the owl
delivered to Marcaunon… BUahhahaha! I won't tell you anything! -
Sticks tongue out childishly-
Oh my god I can't take it anymore! Some of the crossovers you guys

suggested to me were too hilarious… and one even said to bring
back a Pokemon to HP universe! I laughed so hard that my mum
had to slap me behind my head to make me stop -it was that loud!
Anyway, I'm not laughing because it was a silly idea, but because I
can imagine Marc doing just that. Gosh, I love reading such reviews,
they give me inspiration needed for my future chapters! Thank you
very much everyone!
As for those who don't watch much movies or animes or TV, I'll be
giving a thorough explanation on the universes I will be crossing, so
you need not worry. I'll make sure to describe the character's
appearance and the places Marc explores with details so you can
visualize it -and if you still can't because it is still lacking, google is
everyone's best friend. All the crossover suggestions will be taken
into consideration and even if I have not seen the series before, I will
watch it all because really… I want to keep my readers happy -and
I'm curious as to why some of you chose that particular series to
crossover to.
Story recommendation for today: Holiday Spirit by Dimensional

Roamer. This fic contains much humour and I guarantee that it'll
bring a smile onto anyone's face! Harry decided that everyone needs
love, and this includes our favourite Dark Lord. He sent Voldy gift
after gift, along with a letter that will crack the readers up. He's so
silly it's cute! There are presents for everyone (even non legged
ones)! Anyway, if you're having a bad day, reading this would lighten
your mood up. HP/LV pairing.
Rainbows and Bloodlust,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 14
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 14: A great holiday gone wrong.
Date: 27 September 2002
Location: Raccoon City
Dimension: Resident Evil 2 - Apocalypse [Spoiler warning for those

who have never heard of RE]
Marcaunon hummed a lightly aired funeral march as he popped a

piece of all-flavor-jellybeans into his mouth -oh chocolate pudding,
his favorite! His face was impassive as he observed (via spyglass)
the scene that was being played a few hundred meters north of him.
Raccoon City, where he had been dropped off by Death (the entity
had left soon after, stating that It had to personally direct souls to the
after-realms), was currently under lock down mode -Umbrella
Corporation had built a metallic fortress around the whole City. Their
sole purpose was to contain the citizens to prevent further infection -
or more zombies from being born. They may seemed like they were
doing the whole world good, but it was because of them that this
dimension was on the verge of exploding into smithereens.
The creator of the T-Virus, a virus that basically reanimates the dead,
worked as an Umbrella scientist. That was enough for Marcaunon to
despise the entire Corporation. They were the guilty party for his
unnecessary load of paperwork on his desk after all.
However, everything was too easy thanks to his Magic -it wasn't
even a challenge to find out about the whole situation. It became too
boring and he was supposed to be on vacation -that meant fun time.
Imagine a video game where you started off as a max level
character with full equipment and over powered stats. Boring right?
After collecting all the information he needed, he had decided that

using Magic was a no no, unless in dire situations that is. Thanks to
that, he did things the normal way and searched the whole city for
five bloody hours for the creator of the T-Virus -which he failed
spectacularly.
So now he was currently snacking away his frustrations as he

watched the horde of people (he decided not to call them Parasites
in this dimension, seeing that there was no such thing as Magicals)
trying desperately to exit Raccoon City -they were like lab rats trying
to find a way out of a maze the scientist had put them in.
He felt amusement as he stared at the only exit of this entire city -

two huge mechanical gates that were currently being guarded by
armed officers. The citizens were trapped, and they know it. That
was why they were behaving like headless chickens.
Marcaunon swung his legs back and forth as he sat on the edge of a
tall building's roof -a bag of snacks on his left side whilst his spyglass
was on his lap. He took another piece of jelly beans and stared at it -
fascinated by how yellow it was. Death had always said that his
attention span was like a child's when left alone with nothing to do.
He suddenly perked up and looked through his spyglass when he

saw how the horde's movements became frantic. The mechanicals
gates that were supposed to be opened for uninfected citizens to
evacuate had closed.
A man suddenly took out a megaphone and Marcaunon tilted his

head. He recognized the man from when he had read through the
high-ranking employee files. Timothy Cain, the person responsible
for the containment and outbreak of Raccoon City.
"This is a bio-hazard quarantine area, and due to the risk of

infection, you are all not allowed to leave the city." Marcaunon
leaned forward in interest whilst the crowd looked panicked. "All
appropriate measures are being taken. The situation is under
control. Please, return to your homes."
His lips quirked upwards. If this was considered 'under control',

Marcaunon would've felt dread if he were one of those citizens down
there. Really, no wonder Death had always found amusement in
watching mortals -they make the most hilarious of jokes. Infected
walking amok in the city was considered under control . Gosh that
guy cracked him up.
The horde ignored Cain's words as they continued to push forward,

determined and too panicked to follow the provided instructions. The
police were outnumbered 1:10, and it only made them all the more
confident.
Marcaunon only popped the overly yellow jellybean passed his lips
(ugh earwax flavor) as he watched with growing anticipation.
BANG!
The sound of a single gunshot made most of the people freeze in

shock, and some even yelped.
"You have five seconds to turn around, and return to your homes."
The crowd was still unmoving whilst Marcaunon chuckled at their

sheer stupidity. They were behaving like sheep waiting to be
slaughtered! This continued on for another few minutes until the PA
(public announcement) system suddenly came alive and announced
that live ammunition was granted.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Marcaunon's scarlet orbs glinted and bled into crimson as his

excitement grew, though his face remained its usually serene
expression he often had before he had to don on his Hufflepuff
mask.
Bullets were flying around everywhere and the area was slowly
being covered by red. The people who had not escaped fast enough
were screaming in pain and horror as their loved ones died in front of
their eyes, and Marcaunon only laughed cruelly at their misfortune.
It has indeed been awhile since he had witnessed such unjustified

slaughter -grading and paperwork had been taking too much of his
time lately.
"Ah… How I've missed this so much…" He licked his upper lip and
closed his eyes in bliss as he relished in the feeling of fear and
carnage in the air. "So very much…"
Marcaunon hummed a random tune as he bounced lightly along the

deserted streets of… Well he didn't really know where he currently
was at, only that there was a church in sight. He was currently
dressed in a plain dark sleeveless hoodie and black jeans, to better
blend in the dark, and even though he wore (very sharp) heeled
combat boots, he made no sound as he skipped towards the
building.
It had been so long since he even saw a church… and after the
damn exorcism, he wasn't too keen on going anywhere near those
buildings. However he pushed his feelings aside and continued
onwards -he had sensed five presences inside, and he knew that
only those who are skilled were the only ones capable of remaining
alive during an outbreak of infected walking dead.
Without much effort, he sneaked passed some drooling infected and

climbed through one of the many high windows. Why the people
inside didn't take precaution to close all the windows was something
truly foolish on their part. Even if the infected were unable to climb,
loud noises could still be heard through the windows and the infected
are curious creatures -they will investigate this church sooner than
later. By daybreak the church would be infested by them.
The church's corridor was dark even with lit candles everywhere. He
passed by chairs, statues, and doors until he spotted one with light
shining within. Without a moment of hesitation or care about another
person's privacy, he peeked through the keyhole and raised a brow
at the sight. A priest (his eyes stayed on the man longer than
necessary) was feeding a tied up woman… no… a tied up infected
woman, a bloodied limb. He shrugged and moved on. A tied up dead
woman and a spoon feeding priest were of no interest to him.
After a few more minutes of exploring (how careless of the priest to
light up every single candle), the sound of someone's lightly tapping
boots echoed softly throughout the hallway made him retreat into the
shadows. A woman with blue eyes, chestnut colored bob hair, and
mixed features -maybe Japanese and French- appeared along the
corner. Her face would be considered attractive in the eyes of males.
Her eyes were narrowed in concentration as she walked carefully

whilst holding her handgun in front of her -she must be a skilled
shooter judging by her stance. She appeared to be in her twenties
and was around 165 to 170cm tall, with a slender figure -the agility
type he assumed.
She wore a blue tube top, with a white sweater wrapped around her
black mini skirt, and a weapon holster strapped around her right
thigh. Marcaunon gave her points for her brown knee length boots,
however her overall appearance made him doubt her actual ability to
handle a gun properly. She looked more like a woman that just came
out from a nightclub than someone that had the capability for
combat.
He wondered if there was an advantage in wearing such short and

thin clothing -why not put on the sweater rather than tying it around
her waist, wasn't it cold? And could she still maneuver around, like
climbing or crawling, with that skirt on?
He halted his train of thoughts when she passed by before he

advanced to the direction she had appeared from. He paused mid-
step when he spotted a… weird red brainy thingy creature crawling
along the walls and deadpanned. So the infected were able to
evolve… but why would they evolve into something so ugly? That
thing had no eyes! Why does it not have eyes!? How can it even
see? Were they like snakes -using their tongues?
And look! He just proved his point about the windows. They
should've closed it before ugly here crawled inside.
The brainy four legged creature thingy jumped hastily towards the
ceiling and growled as it inched away from him carefully, before it
continued to stalk its prey (the woman). Marcaunon only blinked and
continued his steps. He took mental note of what just happened and
frowned lightly -he should stay clear from any evolved infected from
now on when in the presence of people.
He soon arrived at the entrance of the church's nave and blended

into the shadows so that the occupants inside took no notice of his
presence. The nave was lit around with candles as well. It was
convenient for him, yet careless of them.
He stealthily climbed to one of the many horizontal ceiling beams

and seated himself comfortable -Indian style. There were three
people below of him, two men and a woman.
The first man he took notice of was a black man wearing the
standard cop bullet proof vest and a white shirt underneath it. He
wore a light brown cargo pants that had their hems tucked firmly into
his black boots, with a weapon holster strapped around his right
thigh. He also had his elbows and knees protected by some kind of
pads.
Marcaunon skimmed the buzz cut black man's outer thoughts and
discovered that his name was Peyton Wells, a S.T.A.R.S (Special
Tactics And Rescue Squad) officer. Marcaunon hummed lowly and
calculated that this man only had a few more hours left -judging by
how grey the aura of death was.
The aura of death was something similar to a translucent shroud. It

only appears when a person was near their expiry date, and darkens
over time. It can be an accidental or sickness or even natural
causes, like earthquakes and old age. Infected however were not
shrouded by them because they've already passed their expiry date.
The second man Marcaunon spotted appeared meek and weak. His
hands that were tightly holding a pistol (as if to reassure himself)
were shaking violently in fear. He wore a blue button up shirt (that
was wet with insane amount of sweat) and jeans. By the looks of his
features, the blonde man -Angus Mackenzie- was Caucasian. He
didn't look much like a fighter, and probably hid the minute he saw
the infected. Marcaunon immediately dismissed the man. The aura
of death surrounding Mackenzie was black -he would probably last
for another ten minutes maximum.
His scarlet eyes moved onto the last person. She was a Hispanic
woman with dark eyes and curly shoulder length hair. She would be
considered average in the looks department. She wore a… he didn't
really know what color of blazer she was wearing. Was it white, grey
or very light green? He shrugged uncaringly and continued his
observation. Her knee length skirt was the same shade of that
unknown color, and in her hands was a digital video camera.
Marcaunon skimmed her thoughts and found out that she was called
Terri Morales, an anchorwoman who aspired to be a journalist in
order to work at Los Angeles or Chicago. She could forget about her
dream though. Her aura was only a slightly lighter shade than the
S.T.A.R.S officer, and even if she were to get out of Raccoon City in
one piece, the future looked quite bleak for this world -zombie
apocalypse does that.
He took out a bag of popcorn and munched on a piece (softly) whilst

watching the three below. He would wait for the blue tube top
wearing woman to leave this place, before he shadowed after her.
She was the only one that would survive since he didn't see any
aura shroud around her.
The sudden sound of a man's scream (probably the priest since his
aura was black as well) was heard and the three stood up with
haste, their heads turning left to right similar to those frightened
rabbits he often saw Suki chasing. The woman, Terri, ran towards
the double doors in her heels as she shouted over her shoulders.
"I'm getting outta here!" Her hands were already on the door
handles.
"Hey!" Peyton shout-whispered as he rushed towards her. "No wait!"
Oh she shouldn't do that. Infected were standing everywhere

outside.
When she opened the door, she screamed as she spotted a horde of
infected rushing towards her and pushed the door close, with Peyton
helping her. They were fighting a losing battle with the door due to
the unlimited amount of strength the infected possessed, however
what Marcaunon didn't expect was that the weakling, Mackenzie, to
help them by taking a mallet (where that came from he didn't know)
and shoving it through the two door handles as a make shift
barricade.
Marcaunon licked his buttered fingers as he watched the two males

aim their handguns towards the exit -as if the infected were strong
enough to bulldozed through. Wrong thing to aim at, sweeties. There
were two four legged brainy creature thingy on the ceiling and they
were supposed to be focusing on that, not those harmless slow
walking infected.
Some people really do have low observation skills.
The four legged brain-oh for Morgana's sake. He'll just call those
things crawler. The first crawler suddenly growled lowly as it moved
onto another spot near the altar. That gained the three's attention
and they all looked around frantically.
Peyton was the first one to act smartly. He took out his flashlight to
aim at the direction of the growling noises. They finally spotted one
of the crawlers and gasped. Marcaunon understood their shock at
those creatures' ugliness (what a huge misunderstanding). Even he
felt that those things were beyond repair. Plastic surgery could only
do so much after all.
"Jesus!" Who? Oh… Was it those human quirks where they say
Jesus instead of Merlin or Morgana?
"W-what is that thing!?" It's an infected that evolved through
unknown methods.
"Hey! Wh-where're you doing!?" Was shouted by Peyton as

Mackenzie ran away. "Get back here!"
Idiot~ Predators always went for prey that fled solo. Marcaunon
didn't bother to try and help the man. It was time. The shroud was
pitched black and it wasn't even translucent now.
Whilst the idiot ran, Peyton dragged Terri behind one of the many
pillars to hide from the predators and prepared himself by checking
his ammo.
Mackenzie finally ran out of Marcaunon's sight and he waited for

only another few seconds before he heard the man's scream of fear
and despair. He took another piece of popcorn and tossed it up in
the air before catching it with his mouth. What wonderful background
music.
Just as it ended, the glass doors that was linked to the hallway and
into the nave opened and the blue tube top woman entered. He
mentally berated himself for getting distracted by her choice of
clothing previously before he skimmed the surface of her mind. Her
name was Jill Valentine, a S.T.A.R.S officer as well.
He blinked at how high ranked she was before she became the
disgrace of the police force. He really should stop judging books by
their covers.
She stalked forward and suddenly crouched near the pews.

Marcaunon tilted his head to the side in curiosity. When Jill pulled out
a pistol from below the many pews did he only understood her
actions -dual wielders all looked so badass (again another
misunderstanding on his part). As he was too busy praising her dual
wielding stance in his head, he didn't notice that one of the ugly
creatures had moved near him to drop Mackenzie's corpse onto the
paws behind of Jill. They both jumped slightly due to the suddenly
appearance of the body and the noise it made when it came contact
with the pews.
Merlin's hairy testicles! Damn jump scares -real life edition.
Jill shot at the creature as a diversion and was quick to retreat, with
Marcaunon's scarlet orbs following her movements until he lost sight
of her once she hid behind one of the many pillars. He sighed and
lay down on his back as he fingered his snack. It was risky to go
down at this point of time, and he rather watched how it played out
than intervened -Jill wasn't dying anytime soon anyway.
Maybe after he was tired of Jill will he go find the creator of the T-
Virus. He needed the information in that man's head to create an
Anti-Virus, as well as a serum that could potentially reverse the virus,
and then save the world.
Wow… That sounded disgustingly cheesy.
Another few seconds passed by with him trying to rid his arms of
goosbumps before he saw movements from the corner of his eyes.
He sat up with his legs still crossed Indian style and leaned forward.
Peyton had covered Jill's mouth and pulled her behind the pillar
where he and Terri hid. Marcaunon thought back to the many
criminal videos he had watched when bored and stifled a laugh that
had almost escaped his lips. That was like a kidnaping slash rape
way to gain someone's attention!
Whilst they whispered softly to themselves, Marcaunon was busy

with covering his mouth -his shoulders were still shaking with mirth.
The two suddenly started shooting at their respective targets and

Marcaunon ducked when one of the bullets came too near for
comfort -what bad aiming they had. It wouldn't really hurt, but he
didn't fancy dying again within twenty four hours -he had already
died once when he was dropped at Hisoka's dimension.
Jill and her colleague continued for another minute before she
cursed and said that her ammo was almost out. Whilst Marcaunon
was weighing the pros and cons of entering the fight, the stained
glass above the altar shattered into a million pieces and a person on
a bike flew through.
Marcaunon only stared transfixed as he gave the person points for

such a unique dramatic entrance.
The helmet was then removed and the rider with wet (or oily) light
brown hair spoke fiercely.
"Move!"
The three automatically moved with haste away from the rider as she
sped towards the ugly crawler before doing a backflip as she jumped
off -he added another point for dramaticness. The predator turned
prey was stupid enough to charge head on and became a firework
when she shot two bullets into the bike's oil tank. What a waste of a
perfectly good bike! The biker lady then twirled her dual pistols
around and sheathed them into the holsters that were strapped
around her thighs.
Marcaunon was impressed.
She then took out two uzi and started firing randomly at the second
crawler, which leapt down in order to avoid her shots. The creature
was positioned just below the altar and before it could move a step
further, the giant cross that had a statue of a crucified male fell atop
the crawler and made a pancake out of it.
Wow. She sure knew how to strategize. Marcaunon had thought that
her aiming was off, but she had planned the whole thing -shooting at
the chains whilst forcing the creature into moving at the direction she
wanted. Astounding. Whilst Marcaunon was busy admiring the
pancaked evolved infected, he missed how the biker woman had
headshot-ed the third and final crawler with a shotgun. He jutted his
lower lip out.
"Who… the fuck are you?" Jill demanded whilst Marcaunon
munched on a kitkat. Shouldn't she be grateful that the dramatic
biker lady saved their butts rather than demanding answers rudely?
Marcaunon trailed his eyes over Jill before stopping at the still wet
blood trails on her boots. Maybe Jill was mad because biker lady had
killed the creature near her and her boots got splattered with the
creature's blood. Women and their shoes.
The biker lady just stared at Jill with her nose held high and
Marcaunon inwardly cheered at the signs of a catfight. Fight, fight,
fight!
"Before that," The woman's voice was raspy, as if she had not used it
for a long time, or that she had screamed her throat raw. "why don't
you ask the person sitting on the ceiling beams to come down?" She
tilted her head upwards and stared directly into his direction.
Marcaunon's scarlet eyes widened in surprise before they roamed

her body, taking note of her muscular yet slender figure. She was
slightly taller than Jill, and had guns strapped all over her person.
She wore a dark orange tank top under her mesh sleeveless shirt,
and jeans that were weird in his eyes. The right side was long, whilst
the left didn't even reach mid-thigh, though it did continue below her
knee like a one piece leg warmer. Women fashion clothing made
little sense to him, just look at what Jill was wearing! They were in
the middle of a zombie apocalypse for Morgana's sake.
When he was finally done taking note of her clothing, his eyes
returned to look into hers. The biker lady had strange eyes -and it
made him want them all the more. Perhaps after she died, he would
gouge out those eyeballs and put them in a display jar. Or maybe
give them to Chaos as a souvenir.
He was a little curious about the aura of death surrounding her

though. It would appear, disappear and reappear at random intervals
-though it was only a darker shade of white, not yet grey. It was as if
her fate wasn't already written, and she could change her death date
depending on her choice.
"What?" Jill whispered as she squinted her eyes uselessly to try and
see him. "Nobody's there. If you're trying to avoid-"
Marcaunon jumped down and landed softly on his boot clad feet,
ignoring the way the video recording woman had fallen to her bum in
shock.
"How did you notice me?" He raised a questioning brow at biker lady
and popped his leftover kitkat into his mouth.
"You've been watching this whole time!?" Jill glared at him. "That
man needed help!" She pointed at the meek man's corpse and
continued to glare at him accusingly. Marcaunon only blinked as he
licked chocolate off his fingers.
"He wasn't going to survive long anyway."
"You don't have the right to judge whether a person lives or dies!"
True. But he did have the right to judge whether a person gets
tortured after they die or not.
"Jill…" Peyton placed a calming hand on her shoulder.
"H-how about some introductions?" Terri said as she pointed the

camera his way.
"Why don't you tell yours first, my lady?" He bounced towards her
and took her right hand, before kissing her knuckles playfully. He
glanced up through his lashes to see her face reddening and took a
step back as he dropped her hand. Was she angry? It was only a
customary (pureblood) greeting.
"Terri, T-Terri Morales." She squeaked out.
"And you?" He pointed towards Peyton with his chin.

"Peyton Wells." Marcaunon nodded without even a change of
expression.
He turned towards Jill, but didn't get the chance to ask.
"Jill Valentine. Now tell us who the fuck you are. The both of you."
She scowled at the two newcomers and Marcaunon's lips quirked at
her impatience. She was definitely someone he could poke around
when bored -her reactions would be amusing.
"Ladies first." He gestured towards biker lady.
"Alice."
"Harry, Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet all of you." He purred.
Ah it has been a while since he referred himself as that.
"We need to find somewhere to stop for a moment." Jill stated as

she walked alongside her wounded colleague.
After their introduction, they had all agreed to group together until
they were out of the city, so now they were currently walking in a
graveyard -which was probably the most risk-free place during an
outbreak of zombies, note the sarcasm- in order to avoid the horde
of infected roaming the streets mindlessly.
Marcaunon glanced at the man's injured leg and tsked softly at the
obvious bloodied bite mark. Peyton wouldn't last long, maybe three
hours maximum, unless he was given the cure that is. He doubted
that it has already been made though, but that was his original
purpose for being here anyway. Once this dimension was zombie
free, his desk would be free of extra paperwork -damn Death for
throwing another dimension's work at him. He was Its Master for
Merlin's sake.
He was so absorbed in his fantasy of lesser (none, was impossible)
paperwork that he had not noticed that the group had stopped until
he walked into a wall… Well not exactly. It was Alice, and she didn't
even budge unlike he who had almost fallen.
Alice gave him a side glance before returning to her staring contest
with Jill. They both had their guns out and pointed at each other. He
only raised a brow at their antics as he moved to sit on top of a
gravestone near him with his ankles crossed and his hands inside
his hoodie pockets.
"That's considered disrespectful." Terri said as she stood beside him.
"Then they shouldn't have made the stones seatable then." Was
seatable even a real word?
"What do you think you're doing?" Jill's voice made him turn towards
her and he made a grab for one of his snacks… only to find them all
already eaten. He scowled and wrote a mental note to get more
afterwards.
"He's wounded. The infection's spreading." Alice stated matter of

factly as she stared at Jill as if she was a little child asking how
babies were made.
There was a few seconds of tensed silence before Peyton spoke.
"I'm fine."
"For now." Marcaunon added in helpfully, but only received a look

that said he was anything but helpful.
"We should take care of him now." Alice said as if Marcaunon had
not interrupted their conversation . "It'll be more difficult later. You
know that." She turned to Jill, her stoic face turned serious.
Jill only shook her head in denial as she glared at Alice.

"Or we can shoot him the moment he starts acting weirdly." His
words were ignored once again as the two continued to try and stare
the other into submission. Marcaunon crossed his arms. How rude of
them.
"If it comes to that, I'll shoot him myself." Jill determinedly said as
she walked forwards.
Alice's gun barrel was at Jill's throat before Alice sighed and turned
around, her face showing indifference.
"Suit yourself." She faced Peyton. "You'll only last an hour or two.
And moments later, you'll become one of them. You'll endanger your
friends, try to kill them -and probably succeed." Her tone was light as
if she was talking about the weather. It made Marcaunon cackle on
the inside -Alice was similar to him in their boldness with words,
however she said those to warn them (she was kind) whilst he would
say those to taunt them (he can never be considered kind).
"Maybe we could stitch his lips together?" He suggested. That way

Peyton won't be able to bite them even if he was turned.
"What is wrong with you!?" Jill whispered in disbelief as she stared at

him, before turning away with her arms crossed. "You really are
sick."
Marcaunon only tilted his head to the side, not understanding her
anger. Normal infected can't transmit their virus through any other
means and only via saliva or blood, so stitching the lips was the best
solution if she didn't want Peyton to be shot. That way Peyton won't
be able to infect them when he suddenly became one of those flesh
eaters.
"It's a logical solution."
Peyton's face had turned a slighter shade of pale as he edged away

from Marcaunon.
"I'm sorry." Alice spoke nonchalantly as she stared into Peyton's
eyes. "It's just the way it is." The woman was yet again ignoring
Marcaunon's words. It was endearing and it reminded him of Chaos
at times, so he won't kill her. Yet.
The silence was thick with tension for the group as they avoided
each other's gaze, excluding Marcaunon whom was idly staring at
the stars without a care in the world, and Alice whom was busy
checking her firearms.
Terri's sudden scream of panic made everyone snapped their heads

towards her direction. Marcaunon could only stare at the rotten
appendage, which was protruding from the ground and holding
Terri's ankle, with a deadpanned. See, risk-free place alright. Who
the hell chose to walk at a graveyard during a zombie apocalypse
again?
Jill was the first one to react as she ran to Terri and tried to pull her
away from the infected's hold. The second was Alice.
She kicked the zombie's head once it had left the ground and a
sickening crack was heard. Terri's ankle was immediately released
upon impact but just as the group was about to relax, hands began
to dig their way out of the many graves.
The T-Virus sure was amazing. It was even able to seep

underground and reanimate decade old corpses.
His group all began breaking the infected's neck (apart from Terri),
not wanting to use their firearms in case the sound attracted more of
those drooling flesh eaters. Marcaunon hopped off the gravestone
he had sat on and avoided a rotten hand that made a swipe at his
ankles.
"Ah… Sorry about seating on your gravestone I guess?" He smiled

at the owner of said gravestone and proceeded to kick the infected's
head with his (automatically) Magic induced muscles, which made it
fly off and hit Terri, who screamed at the sudden appearance of a
decapitated head on her lap.
Alice was quick to slap her palm on Terri's mouth and looked
disapprovingly at him.
"Wasn't on purpose I assure you." He ducked under another

zombie's arm and twisted around before snapping the neck. His
hands should be sanitized thoroughly before he even thinks about
consuming any future snacks.
They continued this for another few minutes before Alice spoke up.
"There's too many of them."
"Way to state the obvious." Marcaunon grunted as he flipped another

zombie to the ground before stepping hard on its nape. Something
about breaking necks gave him immense satisfaction.
"You're having w-way too much fun, Harry." Terri stuttered as she
moved closer to him. He turned to her after he kicked yet another
infected in the back.
"It's… therapeutic." Destroying these humanoid zombies diminished

most of his never ending bloodlust for Parasites at the moment. That
was considered therapeutic right?
"Let's get the hell out of here." Alice announced whilst she moved
swiftly away.
Jill agreed with her as she slung Peyton's arm around her shoulders
and rushed behind Alice, the group following her closely behind.
They ran and jogged all the way until they had lost the horde. Terri
was breathing loudly from the workout as she leant heavily on him
(ugh), and Marcaunon wondered why she was still wearing her heels
during the run. Marcaunon himself had no problems with running in
his heeled combat boots, though he very much preferred not having
to wear shoes at all -however he needed them to blend in better.
After their run, they had ended up near a ginormous white building
and were walking near it. The pillars made great hiding spots to
avoid random bypassing zombies.
Marcaunon subtly pushed the woman off of him and strode towards
Alice and Jill. He preferred these two rather than those hopeless
(Peyton) and helpless (Terri) people.
"Those were some pretty sleek moves back there." Jill started. "I'm
good." Someone sure was lacking in the modesty department. "But
I'm not that good."
"You should be grateful to have me." Another one that wasn't

modest. Marcaunon snickered -the three of them made a good team
(of not modest people that is).
"Oh I know I am." He purred. Without Alice he wouldn't be having this

much fun.
Alice only gave him a side glance before turning back to Jill. How
cold.
"They did something to me." She said solemnly, but before she could
continue, the phone near them suddenly started ringing. What bad
timing. He wanted to know what happened to Alice.
"It would be wise to move." He said and walked ahead.
They followed after him as they tried to ignore the constant ringing
from each payphone they passed by, which no doubt was attracting
unwanted attention, until Alice got annoyed and picked up the
receiver.
"Hello?" She sounded really annoyed, which reflected on her

otherwise stoic face. "Who is this?"
"What do you think it's about?" Terri spoke from behind him and he
hid his annoyance at her presence. Did he do something to make
her like his company or something?
"We'll know soon enough." He replied evenly.
Marcaunon was sat at the back of the bus they had just hijacked (it
was empty anyway), away from the group, as he stared at the night
sky above. Dr. Ashford had requested (more like threatened) them to
seek out his daughter, Angela, from her school and bring her to him.
He had given them the location, and description of his daughter. He

had also promised the group that if they were to succeed, he would
give them the means to escape from the perimeter.
How convenient that the man Marcaunon was searching for made
contact with his group. Now that he knew that he would end up
meeting Dr. Ashford no matter what, he could play all he wanted
without a time limit -he just had to make sure that Angela was
brought back alive and in one piece.
He licked his upper lip and hid a demented grin behind his hand.
"-Raccoon city will be completely sanitized." Alice stated as she

pumped her shotgun.
"W-what do you mean by sanitized?" Terri asked, looking far too

confused.
"Precision tactical nuclear devise." Alice murmured as she stared

into Jill's eyes, totally ignoring Terri.
"What yield?"
"Five kilotons [1]."
"What…?" Jill laughed with no humor. "Fuck me."

"What does that mean?" Terri demanded.
"It means that a nuclear bomb will be dropped by sunrise, and it will
wipe out all of Raccoon City." Marcaunon answered helpfully as he
made his way over.
She looked shocked and could only imitate a fish out of water.
"One would wonder where you've learn that." Alice said as she
stretched lightly.
"I read weird shit." He answered with a smirk.
"Bullshit!" Peyton exclaimed with rage in his eyes. "There's no way

they'll get away with that! It'll be all over the fucking news!"
"Cover up." Terri said with sudden realization. "They can say that it
was just a tragic accident."
"Very likely the case." He hummed in agreement.
Marcaunon tuned them out from this point on. He didn't understand
their worries. Before Umbrella Corporation could drop the bomb
(quite literally), they would already be out of this city. He had no
doubt that Alice alone was enough to find the key-ahem girl, to exit
this city.
He had sensed something in her, but it wasn't Magic. It was

somewhat similar to Nen, but not entirely. It was confusing at best
and the only way for him to figure the energy out was to delve deep
into her mind -and he doubted that she would survive, Hisoka being
the only Parasite exception to the rule.
But back to the topic at hand, their worries were unneeded and it
was useless to wonder about the what ifs . Peyton was hotheaded
and Marcaunon scoffed at the black man. How he was hired to be a
cop was a mystery itself.
Alice stood up with a determined light shining in her eyes.

"Let's go."
They exited the bus and brisk walked towards the direction of the
school.
When they arrived at a bridge, the two ladies (he already removed
Terri from that category) were bad mouthing the organization and Dr.
Ashford. Marcaunon hid a chuckle behind his hand as he listened to
them. So even kickass ladies like them could gossip.
"-like some kind of sick game." Jill and her constant word of sick .
"What's goin on?" Peyton asked as Alice stopped walking all of the
sudden.
"Wait."
"Sunrise ain't gonna wait."
"No. There's something down there."
"Where?" Jill stood on her tippie toes as she tried to see the thing
Alice was seeing.
"There." Alice pointed at the direction of a car that was on fire about
fifty meters away from them.
Marcaunon's Magic tendrils reached out and he hummed at the

feeling of rage and hatred coming from the direction that Alice
pointed at. He kept silent, wanting to see how this would play out. He
was also curious as to how Alice noticed such a thing from so far
away. Was it because of her not-Nen?
"I'm gettin sick of this bullshit!" Peyton gritted out and strode
forwards to the railings of the bridge.
"Peyton!" Jill called out and placed a hand on the man's shoulder to
calm him, but he just shrugged off the appendage and continued
onwards.
See? Hotheaded.
A barrage of bullets suddenly went flying towards Peyton and he

rolled away hurriedly, though he was far too slow to avoid them. The
bullets had hit him all over, and Marcaunon knew that it was the end
for the S.T.A.R.S officer.
"Nemesis…" Alice murmured in disbelief before she looked at them

with panic. "Go! Run!"
Whilst Terri ran towards Jill, Marcaunon watched nonchalantly at

how the black shroud pulled a bluish orb, the size of an adult's head,
out of Peyton's cold body. He walked calmly towards the corpse
whilst Alice jumped down the bridge to distract their unwanted
company.
Jill was in tears as she tried to stop Peyton's wounds from further
bleeding, whilst Terri stood awkwardly near them. As soon as he
arrived in front of the corpse, the shroud wrapped itself around the
bluish orb and bobbed towards him. He subtly plucked the blackened
orb out of the air and returned his hand into his hoodie's pockets.
"Help me!" She shouted as she stared at him with wide desperate
teary eyes. "Harry!"
Marcaunon only stared at her as he made no move to help her.

Peyton was already gone. After the soul (the bluish orb) had been
wrapped by the shroud, it can only be removed by Death -and not
even he, the Master of Death, could bring the dead back to life when
the soul was safely within the shroud. It was like a locked box with
only Death himself as the key. If he wanted to revive a person fully
and not turn them into mindless inferi, he needed the soul to be
untouched by the shroud.
He fingered the soul in his pocket as he hummed lightly -another one

to pass to Death afterwards.
"He's gone, Jill." He stated uncaringly and walked towards a vehicle
near them. "We should meet up with Alice at the school."
"You… You insensitive son of a… !" Jill shouted, her voice shaking.
"I already know that." He looked over his shoulder and watched
unfazed as the anger in Jill's eyes heightened. "And you should keep
your voice down. Never know where those meat lovers are."
Marcaunon turned around to lean against the vehicle's door. This

was getting tiresome -emotions were just not his thing. He sincerely
had no idea why she was even crying. She already knew that Peyton
was living on borrowed time -he was infected remember? So what if
he died earlier than expected? He would've still died anyhow.
Another five minutes passed by before Jill finally stood up and

entered the vehicle. She immediately began hotwiring the car.
Marcaunon followed her example but sat at the seat behind her,
before closing the door after him.
He materialized a small jar from his pocket dimension, not even the
size of his palm, and pushed the soul inside. The orb resized to fit
the jar as it passed through the opening, and only after it was fully
inside did he push a cork after it. The jar then disappeared into his
bottomless sling bag.
This made a total of one thousand six hundred and eighty souls he
had on his person. That meant he had one thousand six hundred
and eighty more paperwork on his desk -not forgetting the ones
Death Itself had personally reaped.
He dropped his face into his palms and groaned. Paperwork was
such a mood downer.
Whilst he was busy sulking at the prospect of lesser free time, he

startled when zombie Peyton suddenly appeared beside Jill and
begun to attack her -curse his paperwork induce inattentiveness! He
only watched detachedly as she struggled to fight the bigger and
stronger infected man off of her, with Terri screaming in fear.
Another few seconds of struggle before she managed to land a kick

at zombie Peyton's midsection. It made him take a few steps
backwards, but that was enough. She took out her handgun and with
a constipated (pained) expression, shot his forehead.
"W-why?" Jill suddenly whispered as she turned to him. "Why didn't

you help me? You were right there."
"I was respecting your wish."
"What?"
He looked at her weirdly. Did she forget?
"You said, and I quote, 'if it comes to that, I'll shoot him myself'."
She stayed silent as she stared vacantly at him, before she turned to
close the door and stepped on the gas -quite hard he might add. He
only blinked in confusion as he tilted his head. She was always
angry with him no matter what he did or say. Women were hard to
understand…
Just as they were off the bridge, Marcaunon spoke his mind.
"I told you we should've stitched his lips."
"Not. Another. Word."
He frowned and closed his eyes. He would listen to her order just
this once. It was the least he could do to not antagonize her further -
she was the one driving the car.
His muscles soon began to involuntarily relax themselves and he fell

into a light state of slumber. He had not slept for more than twenty
hours, so of course he would be exhausted.
He dreamt about being seated under a cherry blossom tree with
Death smirking beside him, and Chaos standing only a few feet
away, playing with the two serpents on a field of grass. His son was
giggling and laughing happily, and it made him smile at the picture of
innocence little Chaos made. The breeze was fresh and he hummed
a light funeral march as he stared up into the blue sky, with white
fluffy clouds the shape of chocolate bars floating lazily around.
He blinked his scarlet eyes and was suddenly startled when the blue
sky was replaced by acid green. Marcaunon looked around in panic
as he could not spot either Marchosias or Death anywhere. He felt
cold. Extremely cold as thunder and lightning flashed across the
hideous sky, and only polluted rain fell onto his skin.
It burnt.
Tears soon appeared in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around his
shivering body. Was everything all a dream? Did he only fantasize
about a world where he had a son and a friend that would never
betray him? Could his insane mind take no more and had created a
world where he could feel happiness -even for just a fraction? An
illusionary trap?
Marcaunon's eyes blanked as he blinked the tears out of his eyes.

How cruel of his mind to do such a thing to him.
He didn't want to live anymore if everything was only an illusion. He

wanted to die. Why wasn't he allowed to? Was it because it was his
fault that the Wizarding world fell into the hands of those without
Magic? Was it because of that sin did Death not want his soul? Was
he forsaken for all of eternity?
" I don't want to be alone any longer…" He whispered to himself as

tears continued to trail down his cheeks. "Please… Help me."
A shadow suddenly loomed over him before an unexpected warmth

wrapped around his body -as if someone had casted a warming
charm on him. He tilted his head upwards, not minding how the rain
made his eyes sting, and gasped in shock.
Wide disbelieved scarlet met narrowed suspicious crimson before

everything turned black.
"Climb aboard."
Marcaunon was startled awake from his slumber by the car door
shutting close and sighed tiredly. That was a terrible nightmare. He
bit his lower lip nervously and hugged himself tightly. He wanted to
see Chaos. He wanted to see Death. He wanted to see… Who was
it he wanted to see…? There was only Chaos and Death in his life,
nobody else.
He closed his eyes forcefully. It was just a dream, nothing more. Just
a bloody dream. He wasn't in that ruined world where he was
destined to be alone for all of eternity.
"Are you ok?" A male's voice he didn't recognized made his eyelids
flutter open.
"Who?" He whispered groggily.
"Lloyd Jefferson Wayne. You can call me LJ. What 'boutchu, babe?"
He blinked owlishly and stared at the man that was seated beside
him in the car. LJ wore a brown trilby on his head, and the black man
had facial hair -though it was trimmed. He had a brown leather jacket
on, and underneath it was a black shirt-
His observation was cut short when his mind connected the words
that LJ had uttered.
"Did you just call me a girl?" He heard the two women at the front
seats hide their laughter -unsuccessfully he might add.
"… You're a tranny?"
"Who… the bloody hell… are you calling a tranny?" Marcaunon took
out his desert eagle and pointed it below the black man's belt. "I'm
100% male."
LJ raised both his arms in the universal sign of surrender as he

sweated buckets.
"A-alright. Chill dude."
"I will chill after I blow off your unneeded pen-"
"Woah woah woah woah woah man! Let's not go down there." LJ
was quick to panic as he covered his manhood.
"I'm sure he's sorry, Harry." Terri said as she giggled behind her
hand.
"Yeah! I'm seriously sorry! Don't shoot my junior dude!"
Marcaunon narrowed his eyes at LJ for a few more seconds before

he pushed the safety back in place.
"Really! Y-you just looked cute when you were sleeping so I thought
-"
"Care to repeat those words?" His thumb grazed the gun's safety
threateningly.
"N-nothing at all! Won't happen again. Mhm!"
"See that it doesn't." He cocked his handgun. "Or else…"
LJ scooted away from him and coughed in his fist.
"We got off to a bad start. What's yo name?"
"Harry."
"Well I'm-"
"Lloyd Jefferson Wayne. I got it the first time." Marcaunon crossed

his arms over his chest and leaned back against his seat as he
crossed his ankles.
"Err… Yeah…" LJ ran a hand through his short curly hair, his trilby
on his lap. "So where ya'll going?"
"Raccoon Middle High.[2]" Jill answered as she turned the car and
nonchalantly ran over an infected that was sitting on the road and
minding its own business. "We plan on searching the school for a
girl. Angela."
"And bring her back to her father." Terri added.
"He'll provide us a way out of the city before Umbrella decided to

drop a bomb on us." He murmured as he stretched his arms over his
head.
"Wait wait wait wait wait. Hold up! Umbrella's dropping a bomb on
us!?" LJ sounded panicked as his arms flailed around randomly.
"And we need to meet up with Alice." Marcaunon continued as if LJ

had not interrupted him.
LJ was a very amusing man, and Marcaunon dubbed him as the

comedy relief. The man has an easy going and funny personality,
and he made Marcaunon amused more often than not (when he
didn't mistake Marcaunon for a female). Especially the man's
reactions.
Jill had explained to LJ about Dr. Ashford, Alice, and the bomb.
"So we all needa get our asses out of Raccoon before sunrise?"
"That's right."
"Damn…"
"You can say that again." Terri murmured whilst Marcaunon's lips
quirked.
"We're here." Jill announced.
As they all left the car, Marcaunon took a glance at the police K9
vehicle and frowned lightly -were those able to get infected as well?
"I wonder if this place will be crawling with those." Marcaunon tilted
his head to the side as his eyes glinted with interest.
"Everyone's armed?" Jill asked as she pulled out her firearm.
"Got my custom beauties here." LJ said as he showed off his golden

handguns.
"I'm armed." Marcaunon smirked as he fingered his desert eagle.
"I don't know how to…" Terri was interrupted by Jill as she all but
shoved a pistol towards the weather woman.
"You'll need it."
Terri only nodded nervously and they all entered the school. Jill was
positioned at the front, since she was the one holding the flashlight -
and that she had experience in combat unlike the other two, whilst
Terri and LJ were side by side in the middle.
Marcaunon himself was told to watch their rear by Jill.
"Judging by the way you fought at the graveyard previously, I would

say that you've had at least a decent amount of experience." Was
said.
He only smiled at her belittling tone whilst LJ looked at them with

confusion.
"Were you both datin' once?" LJ whispered to Marcaunon, but before

he could reply, LJ continued. "Who am I kiddin? You're girly and look
no older than nineteen!"
A tic formed on his forehead and he resisted the urge to throttle LJ.
He was not girly!
"We both have different opinions is all."
"Hmm… Really? It seemed to me that it's all sexual tension yo."
Jill was the one who smacked LJ and threatened to castrate him if
he were to continue being noisy. LJ paled and protected his
manhood by covering it with his hands, much to Marcaunon
amusement. The man's manhood was already threatened twice
within the hour.
They continued walking until they stopped in front of a stairway, and

Jill turned to them.
"We're going to have to split up if we want to search the whole

building."
"Forget it." Terri spoke immediately. "I'm not going out there by
myself! Forget it!"
"I could go witchu." LJ tried to calm her.
"You, take the first floor." She told LJ. "And you, take the second."
She stared at Terri.
"Wouldn't it be inconvenient for us to split up?" Marcaunon stated

monotonously. The three only stared at him with confusion. "There is
no doubt that splitting up would cover more ground-"
"Then what's the problem?" Jill rudely interrupted.
"The problem, dear Jill, is that if we did split up and find the girl
shortly after, won't we waste more time looking for everybody else
after that?"
"I'll take the basement." Jill stated after a minute of silence.
Marcaunon deadpanned. She was definitely still angry at him -but for
her to ignore his rationale reasoning and endanger everybody else
wasn't like her. "You'll go to the library and other such places -like the
roof."
"No wait." Terri spoke suddenly. "Why not let Harry accompany me? I
really don't know how to handle a gun…"
"There's nothing to it. Just try and hit them in the head." Jill was
merciless as she stared Terri into submission. Marcaunon wasn't
sure whether six bullets were enough for Terri -Jill did not even give
her magazines.
They soon split up, however Marcaunon didn't move from his
position. He only closed his eyes to sense if there were any other
living beings apart from them that were in this building, and only
when he felt them did he open his eyes.
He counted three in total. One was at the first floor, another at the
second, and the last was near his location. He hummed in thought at
there being two extra presences before he nodded to himself. The
other two might be children that had survived by hiding inside a
locket or something. He should go check if the one closest to him
was Angela or a survivor.
After a few more minutes of non-stop walking, he frowned at the

presence -they kept moving further and further away from him. He
sighed and continued to follow, which lead him back to the entrance.
The person was going around in circles! Were they lost or

something!?
Terri's presence suddenly vanished from his radar and he raised a

brow. She died within ten minutes of being here. What a weakling.
He focused on her soul and tugged on it via Magic. The blackened
orb that used to be Terri answered his call and hovered in front of
him. He ripped his pocket dimension open with his index finger,
before pulling out an empty jar that Death had provided him with for
this very purpose. He did the same to Terri's orb as he did to Peyton,
before dropping it inside his sling bag once more.
He heard some screaming coming from the cafeteria just as the

presence he had been following after for the past ten minutes
vanished. He sighed in frustration and called for that soul as well. He
repeated the process yet again with an irritated scowl on his once
upon a time serene face.
He now focused on Jill's presence this time and trailed after her -she
had another unfamiliar presence with her. Perhaps it was Angela.
… He ended up in front of the cafeteria doors again. He rubbed

circles on his temples in irritation. He had passed this place thrice
now. He pushed the cafeteria doors opened more roughly than
intended with a handgun in hand, expecting something to spring at
him at any moment.
When nothing came, he continued to walk forward before his elbow

was grabbed.
Marcaunon twisted around and had his hands around the zombie's
neck, ready to break it, but stopped when he noticed that it was only
Alice.
"Oh." He blinked owlish.
"Oh, is the right word for this situation." His companion murmured as
she battered his hands away.
"Well… Sorry about that."
"Not a problem."
"You're wounded."
She looked at the cut on her arm and sighed.

"Not by them."
He nodded indifferently as she took out a cigarette and started to

inhale those cancerous fumes.
"Any reason why you're taking a smoke break when we're supposed
to be searching for the girl?"
"You'll know soon enough." She replied mysteriously as she took

another drag.
Marcaunon only raised a brow and sat atop one of the many tables.
Alice and her dramatics were endearing as well as amusing.
"Do you perhaps have any coins?" Alice stared at him with curiosity.
"I need them to buy snacks from that vending machine over there."
He pointed at the snack machine next to the CocaCola one.
"… Why don't you just break the glass?"
Marcaunon eyes widened. He knew that Terri's stupidity was

contagious! Alice suddenly chuckled at his forgetfulness and it made
Marcaunon scowl all the more. Just as he was about to head over to
the vending machine, the swinging double doors that lead to the
kitchen burst open.
Jill came running as if hell hounds were behind her heels, and stared
at them with shock before she quickly ran to them with a little girl
trailing behind her.
"You better take cover, Harry." Was whispered to him by Alice as she
flicked her cigarette.
He was confused. Why would he need to take cover?
Just as he was about to ask, two infected dogs came crashing

through the doors behind Jill. When Marcaunon's heightened senses
smelled burnable fumes coming from the direction of the kitchen, his
reflexes took over -he needed to find cover before Alice's cigarette
made the kitchen go boom. He pushed down the table that he was
once sitting on and took shelter behind it, just as the kitchen
combusted with Jill landing beside him.
After the explosion died down, he took a peek from behind the
overturned table before scowling at Alice.
"A quicker warning would've done wonders for my still too fast
beating heart, Alice."
"You reacted quickly enough didn't you?" She smirked as she

dropped the fireproof silver blanket around her and the girl.
Her answer made him give her an amused quirk of his lips as he
stepped closer to the two. Jill on the other hand only coughed and
stood on shaky legs.
"Was there a gas leak in the kitchen?" How she knew about it when
he himself (who could smell a cockroach from meters away) didn't
notice a thing was weird.
"There wasn't any." Jill answered as she brushed debris off her mini
skirt. "I turned the gas stoves on before we ran out."
He looked questionably at Alice, but she only stared back stoically.
"Thank you." A high pitched girl's voice made the three adults turned
to Angela -or who he assumed to be Angela anyway.
The girl had wavy mid length chestnut colored hair, with blue eyes
and freckles scattered over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
She wore her school uniform, a dark blue blazer with a matching tie
over her light blue shirt, and a blue and black plaid skirt.
Marcaunon tilted his head to the side as he observed her

interactions with Alice.
"She's infected." Alice suddenly pointed out as she turned towards

Jill and him. "She's infected on a massive level."
"You're infected as well aren't you?" Marcaunon stated matter of
factly whilst he stood in front of the vending machine.
Alice snapped her head towards him in shock, whilst Jill glared at
Alice.
"How di-"
"You're infected?" Jill cut in with disbelief and rage. "When were you
going to tell us!? And you… Why didn't you tell us she was infected!?
When did you notice? Is this all a sick game to you?"
He shot at the glass of the vending machine and grabbed a few

snacks and chocolates, before he turned to face Jill who was looking
at him with distrust. He replied only after he dropped the snacks into
his bag.
"She felt similar, yet vastly different. To those infected." He answered

as he ripped a packet of twisties open. "And when she said that they
did something to her, I had my suspicions."
"And then? Why didn't you tell us?"
"You didn't ask."
"How can I ask if I didn't know!?"
"Hmm… I'm not sure really." He shrugged and looked at his hands.
"Does anybody have any hand sanitizer?"
"Who the fuck would have any in this kind of situation!? And stop
avoiding the question!"
Marcaunon ignored Jill. He wasn't really avoiding the question, his

snacks just hold a higher priority than her.
"It's the Anti-Virus… The cure for the T-Virus." Their one sided
argument was cut short when he heard those shocking words from
Alice.
He swirled around and strode towards where Alice was seated with a
metallic box on her lap. Within the box was a vial that had swirls of
green liquid inside. He stared at it intensely.
"There's a cure?" Jill asked.
"How did you get this?" Alice questioned the little girl.
The answer was obvious to Marcaunon. It was her father. He was

the creator of the T-Virus. What Marcaunon didn't know was that
there existed the Anti-Virus as well. Didn't Death say that the world
was already on its way to exploding because zombies kept on
multiplying? It made little sense to him. If there was already an Anti-
Virus, why have they not yet released it? Were Umbrella hoarding it
for themselves?
As the three females were staring at one another intensely, he stood

behind Alice.
"My daddy. He made it for me. He's sick… and one day, I'll get sick
too. He just wanted to stop that." She looked at the two women with
sadness. "When I was little, I had to walk on crutches. They said that
I'll never get better, just worse."
Marcaunon moved away from them and settled down on one of the
nearby tables, sitting Indian style with a piece of twisties in hand (he
was forced to use Magic to sanitized his appendages unfortunately, it
was a crisis of magnitude level).
"He found a way to make me strong."
"The T-Virus…" Alice whispered.
There was a few seconds of silence with only his munching heard.
"Then, they took the invention away from him. He's not a bad man.
He didn't mean for any of this."
Tell that to Death and Its Master, little girl. His desk was filled with
stacks of paperwork thanks to her father's invention. Once he got his
hands on that bloody Ashford… Marcaunon's eyes bled crimson.
Alice pulled Angela into a hug as if to comfort her, and Marcaunon

heard the girl sob. If only his paperwork could be solved by merely
crying -Death wasn't as merciful as many people thought It to be.
The door that was linked to the hallway was suddenly kicked open,
before a man with a semi-automatic rifle walked in. Alice was quick
to whip out her shotgun to point at the stranger, though the man
returned the favor by aiming his rifle to her chest.
LJ's appearance made Marcaunon raise a brow. What timing.
"Don't shoot. It's cool. He made a deal with the Doctor too. Same
witchu."
The two lowered their weapons after a few seconds of assessing the
situation.
"How many of you guys are there?" Jill questioned suddenly.
"Why do you ask?" The stranger replied with a confused expression.
Marcaunon stared at the stranger from his seat silently, not bothered
with attracting attention to himself -people find it creepy when he
stared at them for too long.
The man had short black hair, dark eyes, and facial hair. He wore a
black shirt with the Umbrella Corporation logo underneath his bullet
proof vest, and dark cargo pants that had the hems tucked neatly
inside his boots. There was a holster strapped around his right thigh,
and he wore fingerless gloves for better weapon grip.
Jill looked towards the direction of a male's corpse (with the same
uniform as the stranger) whilst the others followed her gaze.
"Nicholai…" The man whispered his colleague's name sadly.

There was a moment of silence before the man started coughing out
blood.
"When were you bitten?" Alice asked seriously with a slight frown on
her face.
"Three hours ago."
"W-what the…" LJ ran a hand through his hair as he tried to calm

himself. "You mean to tell me that I was walking around with
someone who could turn into those things at any moment!?"
"Well. It's your lucky day." Alice said with a slight smirk.
"Indeed it is."
The stranger swirled around and pointed his rifle at Marcaunon.
"… I didn't see you there." He apologized as he lowered his weapon.
"He's a sneaky bastard." Jill murmured as she walked passed him

and towards the hallway. "Let's get the hell out of here."
"What she said." Marcaunon hopped off the table he was seated on
and walked behind Jill, twisties still in hand. "We don't want all the
mini-zombies to appear. With all the noise we made it's a wonder
they have yet to investigate."
That made the mortals hastened their steps and Marcaunon

chuckled, amused that they had forgotten that this school was
infested with infected school children.
"So what exactly are you injecting me with again?" Carlos, as he had
introduced himself as, asked Alice doubtfully as he observed her
wiping a section of his arm with alcohol swipe -it was found within
the metallic box.
"The Anti-Virus obviously." Marcaunon answered for her.

They were currently inside the car that Jill had hotwired previously.
After they had gotten out of the school without any encounter from
the dead, the Doctor had called them through a payphone and gave
them the location for an already prepared helicopter. Jill had
complained about how sick the Doctor was to be observing them via
surveillance cameras all around the city, but stopped when Angela
looked ready to cry. Marcaunon had called her a softie and almost
got a bullet through his head thanks to that.
He now was currently seated in the middle of the back seat of the
car, with Alice on his right and Carlos on his left -his arm was on
Marcaunon's lap. Jill was driving as usual, and LJ was seated on the
passenger seat beside of her. Angela on the other hand was seated
on LJ's lap, since the car was only a five seater.
"Are they really safe?"
"Angela's been injecting herself with those for who knows how long."
Marcaunon calmly stated as he picked at his nails in boredom. "I'm
sure it won't be that painful."
"I'm not worried about the pain but - ow!" Carlos winced as Alice
injected his arm. "A little warning next time."
"You wish to be bitten yet again?" Marcaunon asked, his eyes

shining with mirth. "You must really be a masochist, or someone with
a bite fetish."
"That's not what I meant! And you know it Harry."
He only laughed at Carlos, who was blushing madly.
"The T-Virus reanimates dead cells." Alice began as she closed the
lid of the metallic box that contained the Anti-Virus. "Basically,
bringing the dead alive. On a living human, it can cause
incontrollable mutation, or it can help her walk again -if the virus is
kept in check."
"With this." She brought up the Anti-Virus to eye level and the two
stared at the vial of Anti-Virus.
"Though in the wrong hands, this happens." Marcaunon said without

remorse as Angela turned to him. "He shouldn't have made it at all.
Dr. Ashford basically killed millions of people just because he wanted
to save one little girl." And brought forth millions of Deathfiles onto
his desk.
"It wasn't his fault!" Angela shouted with tears in her eyes.
He would've felt something if Chaos was the one crying (which was
impossible in itself), but since Angela was not his son, he ignored her
tears.
"It is and you know it." Marcaunon suddenly gave her a mockingly
kind smile. "Think about it. All your friends were infected… by the
very same medication that you took on a daily basis. Wasn't it both
your and your daddy's fault?"
"N-no…"
"That's enough antagonizing from you, Harry!" Jill said as she glared
at him through the rear view mirror.
"Don't pretend that you don't blame them as well, Jill." Marcaunon
drawled. "Peyton died because of-"
"I know alright!" Jill's knuckles were paper white as her grip on the
wheel tightened. "But it wasn't their intention for this to happen.
Nobody could possibly have known that the T-Virus could bring the
dead back to life. Or the fact that it was contagious."
"Didn't you listen to what Alice had said, Jill? T-Virus basically
reanimates the dead cells. Corpses are full of dead cells -of course
they can be brought back to life ." Marcaunon scoffed. "Really, for a
genius, Dr. Ashford should've taken this into precaution."
"You don't have any friends do you, Harry?" Marcaunon only stared
blankly at Jill when she asked such an unexpectedly random
question. "You have a horrid personality. Nobody, even I, would even
want to be near you if not for this situation."
The ride was silent for a minute before Jill laughed cruelly.
"So I was right."
"You are." Her smiled vanished instantly as Marcaunon grinned

dementedly. "I do not need or require such weaknesses. I alone am
enough for myself." It was true, however he also has Death and
Chaos. Oh not to forget the two serpents, Suki and Mana.
"Isn't that lonely?" Angela asked with pity in her eyes.
"No. It's my preferred way of living." Marcaunon suddenly smiled.

"I'm the type of adult you should never hope to be."
"You're only a teenager." LJ suddenly spoke.
Marcaunon chuckled, his eyes glinting with mirth.
"I'm actually 23 this year."
"What!? Damn that's some genes you've inherited." The tensed

atmosphere was broken thanks to LJ as Marcaunon continued to
chuckle at the man's imitation of a fish out of water.
"Many made the same expression as you once I tell them my age."
The ride continued with a light air.
"Alice," Carlos suddenly spoke. "Does that mean that Angie's

infected?"
"Yes. The virus is enough to regenerate her dead cells, but not
enough to cause further mutation."
"And they infected you with the T-Virus as well?"
Alice stared at Carlos for a few seconds longer before she nodded
slightly.
"Yeah. But don't worry, I'm not contagious."
Marcaunon was inwardly laughing. The way she said it… It was like
telling her boyfriend that she had STI but wasn't contagious if he
wore a condom. (A/N: which wasn't true so don't have sex with
someone that have STI please).
"Here" Jill spoke as she tossed Terri's digital camera to Alice. "Tape
the story. See if it gets put to good use."
"It probably won't work, but do it if you're an optimist. I usually think

my cup of water is half empty rather than half full." Marcaunon
murmured under his breath.
"My name is Alice. I work for the Umbrella Corporation. I was head of
security, at a secret high-tech facility called The Hive -a giant
underground laboratory developing experimental viral bio weaponry."
They arrived at the location where Dr. Ashford said that there would
be a helicopter being held at. Marcaunon and co. stalked quietly
from pillar to pillar, taking down guard after guard on their way to the
helicopter. The tall building made a good fortress for the copter, and
it was further away from the infected that were roaming the streets
that used to be busy.
Alice had gone on ahead to clear the snipers, and when Marcaunon
volunteered to do that as well, his idea was shot down by Jill -she
didn't trust him.
"Really… Our goals are similar. Why would I purposely let them
shoot you?"
"You did exactly that when we were at the church."
"I already apologized to the corpse didn't I?"
"Then will you apologize to mine if I were to get shot because of your
easy going attitude?"
"Of course." He stated monotonously as he watched Carlos kill yet

another guard.
Jill sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"Just… Just follow the plan."
When they spotted Alice standing by the helicopter in the middle of

an open parking lot, the group jogged towards her whilst Marcaunon
himself blended into the shadows. He had a feeling that something
was wrong -it was way too easy. His group didn't notice that he
wasn't with them as they boarded the helicopter, so he climbed atop
one of the fieldlights -why they were even here he didn't know- and
sat Indian style.
Many don't usually look upwards when they were focused on

something, so he was relatively safe for now.
His intuition was spot on when he saw Timothy Cain tiptoeing into
the helicopter with a gun in hand. Whilst that guy was doing who
knows what in there with his group, the Umbrella guards that Cain
brought with him surrounded the helicopter, their weapons raised just
in case. He waited for the people inside the helicopter to exit that
metal contraption and snorted when he saw his group in a bind -
literally.
Alice was standing in front of Cain, who had his arms around Angela
and a gun to her temple. The other members of his group however,
were kneeling in front of the helicopter with their bounded hands
behind their back.
Marcaunon's eyes roamed the area before stopping on a
wheelchaired-bound man. Charles Ashford, just the man he was
looking for.
Now that he had found the scientist… Marcaunon licked his upper
lip.
Dr. Charles Ashford, the creator of the T-Virus and one responsible
for his overload of paperwork. He was a very valuable asset to the
Umbrella Corporation, so Marcaunon wasn't worried about the man's
life being in danger for now.
Ashford's aura of death was dark, but not yet dark enough for him to
expire within the hour.
The man was in his late 30s, with a large forehead and a circular
framed spectacle -which was awfully similar to the ones Harry Potter
used to wear, perched on the bridge his nose. His dimple chin could
be considered his best feature, seeing that his chestnut colored hair
was already in the process of thinning.
He wore a light green shirt underneath his dark green sweater, dark
trousers, and had a laptop built in on his wheelchair.
Marcaunon observed how the man's lips parted and moved, before
Cain pushed Angela towards the wheelchaired-bound man. They
hugged and he felt a twinge in his heart. How he wished Chaos was
here with him and in his arms.
Maybe after Chaos was old enough, he would invite his son to travel
along with him.
Marcaunon suddenly snapped his head downwards as he felt

malicious intent and rage coming from below of him. There, a few
meters from his seat, was a really hideous creature that exceeded
the brainy four legged creature thingy.
He really didn't know how to describe that thing other than repulsive.
It was like plastic surgery gone wrong to the extreme. The creature
was humanoid, wearing a black knee length leather coat, with blue
strappings on the right side, and black pants of the same material. It
wore fingerless gloves on its hands, and had a machine gun
strapped around its right arm.
What it wore wasn't what made Marcaunon declared its ugliness, but
rather its overall appearance. The creature had purple tube like
things burrowed in its neck area, though half of the unknown tube
thing was out. Its skin was brown and looked oily. The creature was
bald with metallic stitches running from its right cheek to across its
no-… It doesn't have a nose.
Well… As he had previously stated before, it was hard to describe

the creature's features.
He just blinked owlish before returning his scarlet eyes to observe

the people. The creature wasn't his concern, unless it decided to go
on a rampage and kill Dr. Ashford. He was this close to getting the
cure. He just needed to steal Ashford for a few minutes to mind rape
the scientist before giving the man back to Umbrella -disregarding
the fact that Ashford would've likely turned out to be nothing but a
drooling mess afterwards.
The area was suddenly lit up by hundreds of field lights (he almost
fell down in surprise) and the creature dropped its weapon.
Marcaunon only tilted his head in confusion as Cain began to talk to
Alice.
She kept shaking her head with a glare on her face. He wondered
what was being said… Hopefully it would be over soon. He sighed
and yawned-
No…
Why in the name of Merlin's hairy testicles did Cain shoot Ashford!?
Wasn't the scientist supposed to be indispensable to Umbrella!?
That was the fucking creator of the T-Virus for Merlin's sake!
It was time for him to intervene.
Marcaunon's eyes glinted crimson as he stealthily jumped off his

seat and maneuvered towards the shadows. He stalked towards the
fallen body of Charles Ashford and without even a sound, he covered
Angela's mouth (she was hugging her father tightly) with his hand
before pulling both her and her father back into the shadows.
The people were all too busy watching Alice and the creature fighting
a death match to notice the two that had vanished from under their
noses.
He dropped them carelessly once they were inside one of the many
entrances in the building near their previous location.
"H-harry…" Angela cried as tears leaked down her face. "My

daddy… Please… please help my daddy!"
"Why?" He asked with a tilt of his head.
"You dragged us here to save him didn't you?" She looked at him
with hope filled innocent eyes.
"It seems like you're misunderstanding something, little girl." He said

flatly as he stared at Angela with cruel and unforgiving eyes. "I only
dragged you along because you would've noticed me once I touched
your daddy."
"Then why?"
"I have business with him is all, and you were in the way." He aimed
his desert eagle at Angela's forehead. "I am not so cruel to leave a
defenseless little girl in a place full of flesh eating dead humans. I'll
be sure to send your daddy after you once I'm done with him."
Angela only looked into his eyes as tears continued to roll down her
cheeks.
"Don't think badly of me, Angela." He smiled softly at the girl. "It's all
for the sake of lesser paperwork after all."
Without even giving her time to say her last words, he shot her in the
head. At least she died painlessly. He grabbed her soul and plunged
it into an empty jar, before he turned to Charles Ashford.
He pried one of the scientist's eyes opened and just as he was about
to dive into the man's mind, a helicopter begun shooting at the
building he was inside and a few bullet lodged themselves into his
and Ashford's body. Marcaunon's eyes widened as he coughed out a
mouthful of blood.
"F-fuck…" Marcaunon's eyes hardened in determination and he

extended his arm towards the scientist with healing Magic already
being activated, but it was all for naught. The man was already dead.
He sneered and growled in rage. Why? Only a second. He required

only another second!
"Wait a minute…" He blinked and pushed himself off the ground.

"There's still a way…"
Marcaunon stood up and begun chanting, his scarlet eyes glowing

with power as the spell started to form. He was the Master of Death,
and thus, he was able resurrect a person (and not mindless inferi) if
their souls have yet to-
The black shroud suddenly wrapped itself around the soul orb of
Charles Ashford, and hovered innocently in front of his face -as if
mocking him.
His face blanked. His luck sure was amazing.
"Morgana's saggy titties…" He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

Why didn't he just use Magic to apparate the two Ashfords to
somewhere without the risk of bullets in the air?
He brought forth his Magic to pull out the bullets that had lodged
themselves deeply into his body and healed the wounds a second
after those shells were out. He wiped his bloodied chin and made his
way outside, where the corpses of guards were littered everywhere.
He ran to the helicopter that was in the process of lifting off, and
jumped inside. The occupants startled and pointed their guns at him,
but he ignored them in favor of observing Alice, who had a head
injury and perhaps a concussion, holding Cain by the collar as if
ready to drop him below -where a horde of infected were currently
walking towards them.
"Will you give me a minute with Cain before you drop him?"
Marcaunon questioned Alice, his crimson eyes narrowed into a
dangerous glare -as if daring her to say no.
He could see her shuddering at his expression, but he didn't care. It

was Cain's fault that Ashford died, and he needed information that
was undoubtedly inside that head of his. Without waiting for her to
reply, he pushed her gently aside and grabbed the man's chin
roughly.
"Look at me." He demanded. "Don't think about the Anti-Virus." By

telling a person not to think about something, they will undoubtedly
think of that very thing.
Just as he was about to dive inside the man's mind, the nuclear
bomb exploded and made the helicopter shake terribly. He lost his
grip on Cain and the man fell out of the copter.
Marcaunon's eyes widened and he was about to jump off after Cain,
his Magic already prepared to apparate them away, but he was
pulled back by the waist by Carlos.
"What are you doing!? Let go! I need to… !" He clawed the man's
arms as he tried to reach uselessly at the falling Cain. "He… The
Anti-Virus.. I need…"
"You'll die once you jump off, Harry!" Was shouted inti his ear by
Carlos.
That was right. He couldn't risk using Magic in front of them -and his
obliviate hadn't been practiced for a long time. What if Cain knew
nothing?
He slumped into the man's hold and gritted his teeth in frustration.
Everything had gone wrong!
"ALICE!" Jill's panicked filled voice made the two males turn. Alice's
torso was pierced by a metal beam, with Jill frantically hovering
above her body. "Oh my god… Oh my god! She was protecting me…
Oh god!"
"We're going down!" LJ yelled. "Grab something!"
They all did just that. The helicopter span around uncontrollably and
it made Marcaunon felt nausea. His arms unconsciously wrapped
tighter around the closest thing in his reach (which was Carlos) and
he closed his eyes tightly. He preferred flying via Magic rather than
this!
After a few more minutes of torture, the copter crash-landed on top

of a few boulders that were in the middle of a lake underneath an
enormous waterfall.
"Alice! She doesn't have a pulse!" Jill shouted frantically.
Marcaunon opened his eyes and blinked to clear the debris, before
releasing his hold on Carlos, whom immediately rushed towards
Alice's side. His group tried everything to help Alice, but it was
obvious that she was dead in their eyes.
He though… He stared at Alice's body, not corpse, with an intrigued

expression. Again, her aura of death was flickering in and out of
existence. He had never seen such a phenomenon before, and it
was probably due to the T-Virus inside of her body.
"She's dead…" Carlos whispered as he blinked violently and subtly

wiped his eyes.
They stayed for another few minutes as he took a look around. They
landed somewhere in the mountains, on a rocky lake near a
waterfall. The air smelt fresh here, unlike when he was in the city
where vehicle fumes and factory gases polluted the air. He spotted a
few squirrels scattering around in different directions and heard the
beautiful melodies of birds singing -it was quite peaceful if one would
ignore the broken helicopter on top of the rocks that was ruining the
scenery.
"Well then…" He stood as he brushed some debris off of his

bloodied hoodie. "We should get a move on."
"Before that…" Jill's voice cracked at the, which made her clear her
throat. "Where were you?"
"Excuse me?" He tilted his head in confusion.
"When we were caught. Where were you?"
"Inside the building."
"… Why were you inside the building?"
"I felt something was off, so I decided to make a tactical retreat."
Jill's eyes burned and she grabbed a hold of his collar.

"And you didn't even bother to inform us!?" His lips parted, but were
unable to speak as Jill continued. "Do not… Do not say that we didn't
ask you."
His mouth closed with an audible click and he stared blankly at her.
"You wouldn't have believed me anyway. You would've ignored my

advice like you did in the school, remember? When you forced Terri
to travel alone? What did that result in? Her death, that's what."
Jill's fist rose as if to punch him, but Carlos grabbed her wrist.
"Harry," He turned to Carlos as he shrugged off Jill's hand. "do you

know where Angie went? Even Dr. Ashford's corpse was missing."
"No." They stared at one another before Carlos turned around and
started walking away.
"We should get a move on, away from here."
Marcaunon however made no move to follow.
"It was fun whilst it lasted." He waved at them with a slight smirk
before darting towards the opposite direction, missing Jill's angry,
LJ's exasperated, and Carlos's closed expression.
Date: 18 October 2002
Location: New York - Above the Statue of Liberty torch
Dimension: Resident Evil 2 - Apocalypse
He sat on the edge of the Liberty torch with his legs swinging back
and forth as he struggled to read the newspaper in his hold -the wind
being a bitch to him and his already astray hair. His scarlet eyes
scanned the article as he hummed idly, not caring that a single drop
could be the death of him.
" We have unconfirmed reports of disaster at Raccoon City… These
shocking images just in-"
" Mysterious plague or viral outbreak seems to have run rampage-"
" Umbrella Corporation staging the death of innocent citizens-"
" The tape, apparently the work of the former Se7en Raccoon
anchorwoman, Terri Morales-"
He released the newspaper in his hold and watched as it was carried

away by the wind, before taking out another set of newspaper. His
eyes scanned the articles with mirth as he chuckled at their
misfortune.
" New evidence now, which discredits earlier reports-"
" Nothing more than a sick joke-"
" Fake video tape not only discriminates-"
" Nothing more than an elaborate hoaxed-"
" Playing on the very real tragedy which overwhelmed Raccoon City
earlier this week-"
" Apparently the reactor of the nuclear power station went critical in
nearly hours-"
" Similar to an Atomic energy disaster-"
" State Governor has personally extended his thanks to the Umbrella
Corporation for their swift actions-"
" The perpetrators of the hoax, Jill Valentine and Carlos Olivera,
have now been stopped for questioning by the police-"
"Master?" Death tilted Its cloaked head curiously as It stood behind

Its Master. "Have you completed your self-assigned task yet?"
"I'm halfway done." He took out a vial full of swirling green liquid and
fingered the bottle. "I was lucky that they did not pay close attention
to the quantity of Anti-Viruses inside that girl's box."
"Mortals have always been inattentive."
"Hmm… Very true." He tossed his bag that was filled with jars to
Death, which It caught with one hand.
"Will we be returning, Master?"
"For now we will. It has been three weeks after all. I'm beginning to
miss little Chaos." He turned to Death, his scarlet eyes softening.
"And you as well."
"I apologize. The horde of souls kept on coming."
"I don't blame you at all, my dear companion." He patted the seat
beside him and Death obeyed. It sat down and wrapped an arm
around his shoulders.
Marcaunon leaned into Its touch and sighed.
"Not even a second has passed by for Chaos huh?" He murmured

and closed his eyes. "We'll return back to this dimension on a later
date then, but for now… I'll just have to endure the endless zombie
induced paperwork."
"Those on your desk are only for Raccoon City souls."
"… And soon this whole world's Deathfiles as well."
"It might take years for the T-Virus to spread, Master."
"But time works differently."
"Indeed…"
They stared at the clouds a little longer before a black portal opened
below them. Marcaunon tightened his hold onto Death as they fell
through.
" We'll meet again, Alice." He transmitted that thought to Alice as the
portal closed behind them.
Date: 10 October 2002
Location: In an abandoned apartment somewhere
Dimension: Resident Evil 2 - Apocalypse
"What's that in your hand?" Jill asked Carlos as she took another bite
from her apple.
"A note." LJ replied for him as he stood behind Carlos.
"A note?" She scooted over to read over his shoulder. Her eyes
widened as she whispered. "That bastard… And now he tells us!"
Umbrella Medical Research Facility Detroit
Alice's alive
She was taken by them
Since 28 th September actually
Thought you ought to know,
Harry Potter
P.S. You didn't ask me whether she was still dead or alive back then!
Disclaimer two: I do not own Resident Evil 2 Apocalypse…

A/N: I thank vsama, for without her/him, this chapter would've
been delayed for up to a month later. I do have to say that I'm
sorry for not writing about the RE2:Nemesis game. I lost the
game years ago… And I can't remember much to write about it.
Insert sad face. But well… At least the two endings are the same
(Raccoon city going boom!).
Oh my fish puddings… My eyes were spinning when I kept on

rewriting and reediting this chapter. How many times did I
delete everything because of the lack of information regarding
Resident Evil things!? MY EYES! IT BUUUURRNNS~
[1]The explosive yield of a nuclear weapon is the amount of energy

discharged when a nuclear weapon is detonated, expressed usually
in TNT equivalent either in kilotons (thousands of tons of TNT) or
megatons (millions of tons of TNT). 1 kiloton of TNT = 4.184 TJ
(terajoules)
[2] I have no idea what Angela's age is or the school's name. So

yeah, I'll just estimate that she's around 13 and that it's called
Raccoon Middle School…. Gehehehe….?
I hope that for those who had not watched or played Resident Evil
before, that this chapter wasn't too confusing. I tried my hardest to
explain the situation, but some things would slip my mind at times.
Sorry 'bout that!
And about the ending of this chapter… Angela was supposed to be

the one to wake Alice (mentally) when she was inside the circular
water container thingy, and tell the group about Alice's alive status…
But since Angela's been killed by Marc… He would have to take her
role… ahahaha… Insert sheepish laughing here. I really didn't mean
to kill off Angela, but my hands just typed the whole scene out on
their own!
On to the reviews!
I thank all of those who had wished me a happy birthday! I'm glad
that many of you were happy at the mention of Marc meeting Hisoka
-I didn't mean to mind rape him! Honest! It's just in Marc's instinct to
legitimize someone upon meeting -more so if they don't have any
occlumency shields to protect them from any invasion.
For those who only reviewed to tell me that my story is complete and
utter rubbish, please move on to another fanfic. Why even bother
reading up to chapter 13 if you say that my writing is horrible and I
have no plot at all? I already stated in the A/N that the dimensional
hopping is part of the plot. The warning's been there since the
prologue -not that any of your notice anyway.
And for those who gave me constructive criticism, I thank you and I
will try my best to improve on those mentioned things.
Anyway, I made a Facebook group for those who don't have any
Fanfiction account and wish to ask me questions regarding my
stories, both Silk Roads and Mad Inventor. The link's on my profile
page for those who are lazy (like me!) to delete the blanks of the link
below!
Facebook (dooot) com (slash) groups (slash) genderlessperson
Story recommendation for today: Gaining Innocence by Power of

Universe. This is a HP/Hannibal crossover. Harry, or Henrikas, has
been abused by the Potters after they had murdered his real parents
and announced him the child of prophecy. Around the age of
seventeen, he was betrayed (his memories were sealed) and
jumped into the veil. He was given another chance in life by the
Veil's gatekeeper and was de-aged to four years old, before being
sent off to another dimension (Hannibal). He's a creature that eats
humans to survive, so there'll be a lot of cannibal mentioning. I would
recommend this to people who aren't disgusted by the fact of eating
another human (it's kind of like Tokyo Ghoul really) and mentions of
rape. There will be slash between Hannibal and Will, but Henrikas is
too young (in body) to have a love interest.
Rainbows and Zombies,
GenderlessPerson
Rants of doom
Let me make this clear because apparently, some of you don't bother
to read any of my A/Ns. I know it's long, but at least read the
important bits!
CHAPTER 14 ISN'T A FUCKING FILLER CHAPTER. I HAVE

ALREADY GIVEN MY READERS WARNING SINCE THE
PROLOGUE THAT DIMENSIONAL HOPPING IS INCLUDED IN
THE FUCKING PLOT -IT. IS. NOT. RANDOM! I DID NOT PULL IT
OUT OF MY BLOODY ARSE AT THE LAST POSSIBLE MOMENT
BECAUSE I WAS OUT OF IDEAS.
So get the hell out of my story if you can't take minor 1 chapter
crossovers . I am not forcing you to stay and read, and please.
PLEASE. Don't fucking read up to chapter 14 just so you could
comment that my writing skills are fucking poor. WHY READ IF IT'S
SO DAMN POOR!? I WRITE BECAUSE I WANT TO IMPROVE MY
FUCKING GRAMMAR AS WELL. I'M STILL FUCKING LEARNING.
I'M STILL DAMN YOUNG! GET OFF MY FUCKING BACK YOU
FUCKING GRAMMAR NAZIS!
Gosh, people these days. I've said it once, and I'll say it fucking
again . I AM NOT FUCKING OBLIGED TO POST MY WRITING
HERE. I CAN CONTINUE WRITING ON MY FUCKING LAPTOP
JUST FINE WITHOUT POSTING SHITE BRO!
Furthermore, the previous chapter is filled with information that is

REQUIRED FOR YOU TO BLOODY KNOW IF YOU WISH TO
CONTINUE READING THIS FIC! DID YOU STUPID IDIOTS WHO
SAY "Oh let's just skip the crossover chapter since it's a filler!"
KNOW THAT THAT CHAPTER INFORMS YOU ABOUT WHAT
OTHER THINGS MOD!HARRY COULD BLOODY DO!? I DO NOT
ADD POINTLESS CHAPTERS. EVEN THE BLOODY ONE WHERE
MARC WAS PACKING IS CONSIDERED IMPORTANT IF YOU
READ BETWEEN THE LINES. ARGHHHHHH!~~~~
Whew, finally got that shite out of my system. Now then… Please do
not spam my reviews or PM me concerning this matter any longer.
Rainbows and Complaints,
GenderlessPerson
P.S. Please enjoy the next chapter that will be coming soon!
Insert confetti here~
P.P.S. I have never cursed that much even in chats… I do hope it

won't stay after this. I prefer writing like a gentleman!
Chapter 16
latter. MoD!Harry
Warning: AU, Time-Travel, Universe Hopping (SEE!? I DID GIVE

THE BLOODY WARNING! GUH!) , New Identity, Slash (this
means Boy/Boy), MasterOfDeath!Harry, Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 15: Picnic and Invitation
Date: April 1967
He blinked owlishly to clear his vision once he felt Death's hold on

him loosened. He took in his surroundings with a small smile playing
on his lips and sighed in content. It was great to be home. He had
missed the scent of Potion fumes and old tomes mixed together to
form a completely unique smell that his mind instantly connected to
home within Hogwarts.
"Master?" Death questioned with a tilt of Its head.
"It's feels good to be back home, Death." He touched the walls of

Hogwarts lovingly. "Hogwarts Magic is like a mother's embrace to me
- though I don't really know how that feels like."
"A dimension that Magic has yet to settle in. Quite uncomfortable
and stifling isn't it, Master?"
"Very. Half the time I felt Gaia there trying to vacuum my Magic out of
my body." He glared playfully at Death. "You should've given me a
prior warning. I could've died instantly have I not formed an
impromptu wall around my core."
"Constant vigilance, Master."
"Really Death?"
They both grinned at each other before Death excused himself with
a small yet graceful bow. Marcaunon dismissed his servant with a
wave of his hand and strode out of his private quarters, intending on
finding Chaos.
It had been weeks since he last saw his cute little boy. However for
Chaos, it had only been a few minutes - Death's control over time
was otherworldly (death was everywhere after all). He wished that he
was able to travel back and forth through time as well sometimes.
Paperwork would be so much easier if that were the case.
After a few more turns, he stood outside of the school's library,

where he felt Chaos's unique Magical signature was. He slipped
inside unnoticed and stalked towards where his little boy was
encircled around stacks upon stacks of old tomes.
He crouched behind the small form of Marchosias before picking his
boy up without any form of warning. Chaos squeaked (which would
be later denied) cutely and struggled.
"Let go of me you pedophile!"
"Is that anyway to talk to your papa, Chaos?" He cooed as he turned

his son and settled Marchosias on his hip.
His son only deadpanned at him before closing those ruby eyes of
his - as if he was praying for patience.
"Yes father?" Chaos sighed resignedly as he rested his cheeks on

Marcaunon's shoulder. "Is my presence required for something?"
He chuckled and played with his son's cat onesie tail with a soft look
in his eyes.
"I just missed you is all."
"… We parted only a few minute ago. Please reassure me that

you're not going senile just yet, old man." Chaos smiled innocently at
him, as if he had not just insulted Marcaunon's mentality and age.
"What a cheeky brat you are." He murmured as we walked out of the

library with his son still in his hold.
"Where are we going, father?"
"To spend time together of course, my cute wittle Chaos." He poked

his boy's chubby cheeks as if to emphasize how young he was,
knowing that it would annoy Chaos very much. He knew that Chaos
hated being in the body of a six-sorry, seven year old.
"Stop that!" His hand was swatted away as he was glared by Chaos.
Marcaunon almost squealed at how cute this ruby eyed monster
was, with the cat onesie and puffed out cheeks. "And when will you
remove this… abomination you call clothing from me?"
"Would you rather walk around naked? I have not raised you to be
an exhibitionist, Chaos."
"I… I just don't wish to wear such clothing. It's degrading, father."
"It suits you well."
"You're not the one getting cooed at." Was the sulky reply.
He pretended to be oblivious and smiled at his son with a look of

total innocence.
When he finally stopped in front a painting of fruits, he tickled the

pear with his hand that was not holding Chaos and took a step back
as the painting revealed Hogwarts' kitchen. In his eyes, the kitchen
was larger than the entire house the Weasley family lived in for
generations. The kitchen has four long and wide wooden tables that
were low enough for the house-elves to reach without difficulty, and
shelves containing a large amount of dishware. In the far end and
middle of the kitchen was a wide fireplace to keep the elves warm
and to boil a large cauldron of soup at. The oven was beside the
fireplace, and he could smell treacle tarts being baked inside. The
scent alone was enough to make him drool.
"There's still an hour to go before lunch." Chaos's high pitched voice

made him snap out of his daydream of eating a giant treacle tart and
he swallowed his saliva that was accumulated in his mouth.
Hogwarts' house-elves made the most mouthwatering treacle tarts

ever in existence. One of the many reasons why he wanted to be a
Professor.
"We're going on a picnic, Chaos dear." He maneuvered Chaos so

that his boy was standing on the floor and walked to one of the
house-elves.
It (house-elves were hard to distinguish by appearance alone)

squeaked in excitement when he was in view and rushed towards
him happily, not minding that It was carrying a turkey that was almost
as big as It was.
"Master Professor Gaunt sir! Is Master Professor Gaunt sir bes

hungry? Shall Sloopy bes making food for Master Professor Gaunt
sir?"
He patted the elf's head with a fond smile - they were very endearing
creatures, and he had liked them ever since he was a student here
in both his lives. Marcaunon was unlike many other Magicals that
took house-elves for granted. Magicals tend to forget that house-
elves can bypass any sort of wards other than anti-elves ward -
which wasn't popular because they thought elves to be dumb. If
these creatures could live without being bonded to any Magicals,
Marcaunon knew that they would be an army more powerful than
any other - their Magic was unique and quite strong if wielded
correctly.
"I'm planning on having a picnic with my son. Is it alright if I took a

few minutes of your time to prepare a lunch basket for me?"
"Not all Master Professor Gaunt sir! Sloopy bes doing that now!" The
elf ran towards one of the long tables and gently set the turkey down
before It popped away. He assumed Sloopy had gone to take a
picnic basket from who knows where.
The other house-elves soon started to greet both his son and him as
they passed by. Chaos only observed as Marcaunon conversed with
each house-elf that had stopped by to chat animatedly with him,
before they resumed what they were doing - they had to prepare
lunch for hungry students after all.
Sloopy soon came back with a wooden rectangular picnic basket

that was half as big as It was, and handed it to Marcaunon. The elf
waved at them both as they walked out of the kitchen, Chaos's in his
right hand whilst the basket in his left.
"The Black Lake, father?"

"Yess."
The walk there was silent with both of them enjoying each other's
company. They both soon stopped at a spot under a large tree near
the lake - they cared not if the giant squid or merpoeple came to
observe them.
He used Magic to set up an emerald green picnic mat, followed by

two dark zabuton (or sitting pillow). Chaos plopped gracefully down
onto his respective zabuton whilst Marcaunon followed his example
before taking out food after food from the basket.
Sloopy had prepared for them wraps, sandwiches, hotdogs,

hamburgers, fruit and vegetable salads, pies, macaroons (mainly for
him), treacle tarts and all sorts of fruit juices. It was more than they
could ever consume, but Marcaunon would be giving the extras to
those inhabitants in the lake so it was all good. His childhood made
him unable to waste food - and he assumed that it was the same for
Chaos as well.
He used Magic to clean both his son and his hands before they
started munching on their choice of food.
"How has school been treating you, Chaos dear?" He, as usual,
started the conversation as he bit into one of the many wraps, oh
turkey. He hummed at the explosive flavors and gave a mental
thumbs up. Hogwarts elves were so gifted in cooking. Maybe it was
one of their requirements.
"It's full of Muggles, mother." They both traded looks of disgust - both
knowing that they share a wide range of mutual dislikes and were
not afraid to show it when in private. "Though two of my classmates
have caught my eyes."
He raised a brow at that.
"Did you forge-" His son cut himself off and Marcaunon only blinked
in confusion. "Severus Snape and Lily Evans, Half-blood and
Mudblood respectively."
"Ah." He thought back to how he lost control and shook his head
lightly. It was a mistake he would not likely to repeat, and he was
curious as to why Chaos had yet to kill Snape yet - adult Snape did
betray Voldemort after all. "I remember. What's so interesting about
the two though? Are they Slytherin material?"
"One of them. Evans is a Gryffindor, and even after many attempts of

trying to corrupt her, she still has the heart of a Lion, or Lioness in
her case."
"Corrupt? Really Chaos?" He looked at his son with amusement. He

doubted that the stubborn woman he had heard much about would
be corrupted that easily, even as a young girl.
Chaos only shrugged as he stabbed a strawberry with the fork

Marcaunon had conjured for him.
"They have potential. Both of them."
"Why do you say so?"
"Severus's-"
"It's rare for you to be on first name basis with someone."
"-mother is a Potions' Mistress. He's inspiring to be a Potions'

Master, and I had decided to test him. He learns fast, in both theory
and practical." Chaos continued as if he had not been interrupted.
Marcaunon pouted before he tilted his head to the side.
"So that solves the case of my missing ingredients."
"I was only borrowing it."
"You can only use the word 'borrow' if you're intending on returning
what you borrowed, Chaos dear."
"I don't want to hear that from someone who borrows Sprout's plants
on a daily basis."
"Ah, but I had no intention of returning them."
"… No other parent would tell their child that."
"I'm one of a kind." He winked at Chaos and smiled when his little
boy rolled those beautiful ruby orbs.
They continued their idle chatter, going from one topic to another
without difficulty. Their topic ranged from school, to the weather, and
even to Albus's beard. Half an hour had passed by, and some
merpeople had surfaced to observe them - he had given those
merpeople some food, which they took without any suspicion. He
used to have picnics here with the Hufflepuffs (it was one of their
traditions), and the creatures were always trusting of Hufflepuffs -
who wasn't?
" Marcster!" Suki's hisses made the two Gaunts turned to the
serpent, which was slithering towards them with two envelopes in his
jaws.
" Suki." They both greeted in unison. The snake that was wrapped
around Chaos's shoulders on the other hand, slithered down his
son's body to greet her fellow serpent.
Suki dropped the envelopes on his lap before his familiar's head
butted with Mana's. Marcaunon had trained his familiar to bring him
any mail that were unopened and had no Magic on them - snakes
were so much better than slobbery dogs.
" Thank you, Suki." He trailed a finger down Suki's back, which
made the serpent hiss in pleasure.
He turned one of the envelopes and raised a brow when he saw who
the sender was.
"Someone you know?"
"My guild master." He murmured as he broke the waxed seal and

took out two folded parchments from within the envelope. He set
aside the blank one and read the other.
Dear Mr. Ignatius Rose,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as one of
the ten Potions' Masters out of a hundred, for a chance to gain a
challenging position of employment. Your potions documentation
shows that you have an excellent track record and achievements
that are to be commended for one young such as yourself.
Please find enclosed a blank parchment that would be containing the

invitation to the job, along with the time and place of meeting, once a
pulse of Magic is to be placed. We await your acceptance no later
than April 25 th .
Yours Sincerely,
Jellal F. Frost
~Signature~
He hummed in thought. It sounded interesting enough and he was

curious about the challenging position . He knew that his alias was
considered one, if not, the top Potions' Master due to all the
creations he had presented the Magical community with - and it
wasn't only the Wolfsbane that made him well known.
He mentally debated with himself for a few minutes, with Chaos

giving him privacy by conversing with the serpents (such a good
kid!), before he decided to see the other letter first. He set the
parchment aside and took the second envelope, which made him
raise both his brows in surprise - it was from the same sender. He
broke the seal and took out two parchments, one blank and another
with words.
Dear Mr. Marcaunon Gaunt,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as one of
the ten Potions' Masters out of a hundred, for a chance to gain a
challenging position of employment. Your potions documentation
shows that you have an excellent track record and achievements
that are to be commended for one young such as yourself.
Please find enclosed a blank parchment that would be containing the

invitation to the job, along with the time and place of meeting, once a
pulse of Magic is to be placed. We await your acceptance no later
than April 25 th .
Yours Sincerely,
Jellal F. Frost
~Signature~
P.S. I know that you already have a job, and that you informed me of
your wish to remain anonymous, however this offer is to the top ten
in our guild. The client would only see your name after you've
accepted, so please do not send a howler to my office because
Merlin your voice could shatter even the thickest of glass.
He blinked at the post script and burnt the parchment with his Magic.
He did the same to the blank one, before he returned to the one
addressed to Ignatius Rose.
"Mother?"
"Just a letter from my silly guild master is all. No worries."
"And may I know of its contents?"

Marcaunon lifted his eyes towards his son and thought for a few
seconds before he nodded.
"Yess. It's a job offer. Not much information unless I accept."
"Which you will." Was stated with a drawl.
"I will." It looked far too interesting to ignore.
"Mother is too predictable."
"Only to you, love. Only you." He smiled at his boy and pushed a
small amount of his Magic into the blank parchment. It glowed for a
second before words appeared.
INVITATION
Ignatius Rose
Friday
1 st May
1230 - 1400
Portkey Time: 1219
Please present this strictly personal invitation at the door.
"Tell me about it afterwards?"
"You know I will." They both retrieve their respective familiars before
Marcaunon banished the mat and empty basket to who knows where
banished items go to.
Once the serpents were safely wrapped around their shoulders like a
scarf, they headed back to the castle. He had to talk to Albus about
his future off day, and Chaos would likely wish to continue with his
reading.
Date: 01 May 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Marcaunon's bathroom
Marcaunon hummed as he brushed his now platinum blonde

eyebrows and concave hair, with the front tips reaching his
collarbone and his nape bared. He moved his fringe to one side and
traced his eyes with liquid eyeliner, making his scarlet iris appeared
more vibrant than before - he hadn't applied much, only the simple
and natural style.
Ignatius Rose was an albino Potions' Master to others - red eyes

were easier to hide that way without being accused of playing with
the darkest of the Dark Arts. After his first trip to the Ministry, he had
berated himself for appearing as he usually was, and had asked
Death to alter the minds of those who had met him without his
disguise on.
He turned his head left to right and nodded to himself when he

seemed unrecognizable enough. He reached for his black bottom
half mask with spikes aligned vertically in the middle[1], and used a
sticky charm on it as he brought it onto his face - just in case.
He knew that some places had glamour-proofed entryways and the

only way for him to cover up his facial structure and scars was to
apply thick layer of makeup, or a mask and wore clothing that
covered all of his skin. He brought his hood up to shadow his eyes
and grabbed a hold of his invitation card.
" I'll be going now. Take care of Chaos for me, Mana."
" Yess Marcster." Manasa hissed.
He waved her off and she slipped out of the bathroom without much
trouble. He then picked up Suki and wrapped the massive snake
around his shoulders. He adjusted the serpent's size to fit his
shoulders, however Suki was still considered large for a snake his
breed (rattlesnake). Suki was mainly used as an intimidation factor
for Ignatius, since many mistook his slender size for a pushover.
" Be sure to hold onto me tightly, Suki." He hissed as he felt a tug

on his Magical core.
He landed gracefully on his feet, with his cloak bellowing

dramatically around him before they settled. His scarlet eyes roamed
the area he was in, noting all the exits before his eyes landed on two
dark double doors - two guards standing by its side with their hoods
shadowing their features.
The employer was sure cautious. His Magic tendrils had poked the
wards, and he was impressed. Very impressed actually. The wards
had all three types of Magic - Light, Dark, and Grey. It would be a
pain to break through them, however it was possible.
He strode forward and stopped in front of the right guard, before

handing the man (no women could be that broad and tall) his
invitation. The man scanned the invitation before he took out a quill
and a blank parchment.
"Write your name on it, sir."
Marcaunon took ahold of the quill and immediately noticed the Magic
on it. This was the type of quill that would show the two guards
whether he was Ignatius Rose or a fake. If he was the latter, the ink
would glow.
This would be tough for anyone that had faked their names or had
stolen the invitation from. Lucky for him, this quill could be tricked by
a master Legilimens. There was a trick to it of course - by creating
thoughts of him as he had always been called Ignatius Rose, and the
quill will think it as truth.
He wrote his name with no problem and was ushered inside by the
guard on the left. The inside of the doors they were guarding was
empty with only a long dark marble table and chairs in the middle of
the room. His guard pointed to the chair at the right of the head seat,
and Marcaunon sat down with his back straight and his hood down -
it was considered rude to have one's hood up before and during a
meeting.
After the guard had left, he took in his surroundings. There were two
chandeliers dangling from the ceiling above the table, and a fireplace
a few arm lengths behind him. He crossed his ankles and wiggled
his toes uncomfortably inside his leather boots. The plush carpet
beneath his feet was thick and he wondered if it would be soft to
touch.
A minute passed before the doors opened and revealed another

person in a dark grey cloak. Marcaunon recognized the early 40s
year old man from when he had registered another one of his
potions to the Ministry. Adalbert Grantz was the man's name. He has
blonde short hair that was slicked back, similar to Draco when he
was in first year, and droopy blue eyes. The man was tanned and
average looking at best, with a crooked nose, stained teeth, and
dimple chin. Adalbert looked buffed to be a Potions' Master though,
and Marcaunon would've labeled him as a muscle man rather than a
man who prepares potions for a living had Marcaunon not
recognized him.
The guard pointed to the chair opposite and to the left of Marcaunon
and headed back out. The two men stared at one another after
Adalbert had seated himself, and the blonde was the first to break
the silence.
"Adalbert Grantz." He extended his hand towards Marcaunon.
Marcaunon only stared at the appendage with his lips curling in

disgust - not that the blonde could see it from behind his mask. His
persona for Ignatius Rose was a quiet albino man with a loathing for
human contact. Ignatius was reserved, and would only reconsider
jobs that were interesting in his opinion. Ignatius would never be the
first to start a conversation, and has a habit of talking over everyone
who is below him in his eyes.
The hand retreated back to its owner after a few more seconds of
him not returning the gesture. Adalbert opened his mouth with a
frown on his face, but was interrupted as the double doors opened
once more, revealing the guard and another man in an army printed
green cloak. Marcaunon hummed lowly to himself as he checked his
wrist watch. It seemed like every minute, a Potions' Master would
arrive via portkey.
The guard ushered the unknown man to the seat furthest away from
Marcaunon but on his side of the table, before leaving once more.
The man was someone he did not recognize. He was tanned and
had muscles, with fierce dark eyes and a permanent grin etched
onto his face that oozed roguish charm. He has dark spiky short hair
and a scar running across one side of his forehead to the other. He
looked to be in his late 30s, but nobody could know a Magical's age
due to their slow aging.
Adalbert and the stranger stared at each other before the stranger's
grin became wider, if that was possible.
"Kiriwar. You?" His voice was rough, and it matched his appearance
perfectly.
"Adalbert Grantz."
"Whitey over there?"
Adalbert only shrugged.
"So a quiet one eh?" He saw Kiriwar turned to him from his
peripheral vision before Marcaunon felt eyes roaming his body - he
wondered why he felt kind of violated.
Just as his mental clocked shrieked that one minute had passed,
another person, this time a woman, entered the door together with
the same guard. She was seated two seats away from him before
the guard exited. Again.
The woman wore a white wool coat, and her chestnut colored hair
was long and wavy, with wide chocolate eyes that were aligned with
thick eyeliner. She winked at the three men with her fake eyelashes
and smirked when Adalbert blushed heavily. She could be
considered quite good looking, however Marcaunon wondered if she
really was behind all those layers of makeup - women were similar to
metamorphmagus when they apply makeup. She looked to be
around her early 30s, but again, one could never know with women
and their makeup.
"Hi~" Her voice was low and a little husky as she crossed her arms
under her chest fa-… breasts. "Engel Souen, a pleasure to meet
your acquaintances."
"You may call me Kiriwar, gorgeous." Kiriwar grinned at her and she
giggled at being called gorgeous.
"A-Adalbert!"
"And you?" She whispered as she leaned closer to Marcaunon.
He only turned to her with an unimpressed raised brow and looked

away. He heard her made a noise from the back of her throat, but
ignored her in favor of checking his dark sharp nails that had studs
glued to them in a random pattern.
"How rude."
Marcaunon frowned lightly when another minute had passed without

anyone else entering. He soon heard a commotion outside before
the doors opened, revealing a scowling man and a pursed lipped
guard.
He was then seated at the opposite of Kiriwar. The newcomer wore a
black cloak and didn't look like much, with his greying hair and
wrinkled face. Marcaunon assumed the man was in his 50s, and that
his oily hair was the result of potion fumes left untreated. Being a
Potions' Master does that to one's appearance. It gave Potions'
Masters and Mistresses early wrinkles, dried skin, stained teeth, and
oily hair. The only way to protect themselves from these fumes was
to own many beauty products, though in Marcaunon's case he need
not do anything - his cells would just replace the damaged ones. The
stranger had a round belly, and Marcaunon could only avert his eyes
when the man gave a wet burp.
Before the three could introduce themselves (again), the door

opened and revealed yet another man. The guard ushered the latest
newcomer to the seat two down from Adalbert.
Marcaunon assumed the late 30s year old newcomer was a Weasley
because of his Weasley-like appearance, with a tall frame, red hair,
blue eyes, and freckles. The redhead wore a dark red cloak and had
a messengerbag on his lap.
"Please enjoy some snacks whilst you wait for my Master to arrive."
The guard spoke and left soon after a few plates of finger snacks
appeared in front of each seated person.
Marcaunon stared down at his plate and swallowed subtly. He was

always weak against sweets, however his mask got in the way of
eating. He could never eat anything when he was in his Ignatius
persona due to the damn disguise.
Each of the respective Potions' Masters (and lone Mistress) took out
a potion bottle and poured a drop into their plates. He assumed that
they were taking precaution before consuming anything, especially
when their employer was unknown. When nothing happened, they
begun snacking - it made him pout at the unfairness. He would've
done the same as them, but alas, damn mask.
"What's wrong whitey? Don't got any potions to reveal if yours is
poisonous?" Kiriwar mocked as he pointed a finger at him. "Are you
sure you should be here? Eh?"
He stared back cooly and snorted before looking away. He saw the
man twitch at being dismissed so casually.
"My~ I could lend you some… for a price that is." Engel purred as
she smiled at him.
" Wretched harlot! Little Master told me to guard Marcster from

the likes of you!" Suki made himself known as not only just a fake
decorative snake and bared his fangs that were dripping with venom
at Engel, whom reeled back instantly in shock and fear.
Marcaunon's eyebrow twitched. He didn't need guarding. Really,

Chaos was sometimes too overprotective of him. He sighed and
patted Suki's diamond head soothingly as the serpent draped
himself over Marcaunon's shoulders and seat.
"W-what the hell!? That thing's alive!?" She shrieked as she pointed
her red painted nails at Suki, her face covered with disgust and the
slightest bit of fear.
" I'll relieve that finger off your hands, woman!"
Engel must've felt her fingers were in danger as she quickly hid them
from the serpent's sight. Marcaunon chuckled lowly at his pet's
antics and glanced at the still shaking woman.
"I apologize for my pet's actions." His monotonous deadpanned

stated otherwise though. "He was just frightened by your harpy-like
voice."
"Excuse me!?" She shrieked, and thus he proved his point on her
voice being harpy-like.
"I don't really wish to apologize twice… but if you insist. I apologize
for my pet's action. He only reacted because your voice was killing
my ears."
"How dare yo-"
"And I would be gratified if you would stop trying to converse with

me."
"Do you know who I-"
"Not really. What was your name again?"
"Stop int-"
"Oh yes. It was something similar to Eagle was it?"
"No! Not-"
"You must've been a dreadfully noisy baby… I pity your parents."
"I-"
"Yess, I already know your name. So would you mind quietening

down please?"
"Arghh! Stop! Just stop! Stop talking over me like I'm someone
unimpor-"
"You definitely are unimportant in my eyes." Marcaunon chuckled,

his eyes alight with mirth as he observed her face going from red to
purple. "You alright there? Purple doesn't suit you, Eagle."
"I'm sure she won't be disturbing you any time soon." The Weasley
cut in as he smiled good naturedly. "I'm Felix Weasley by the way.
May I ask for all your names?"
"Iunius." The pot belly man said as he stuffed yet another sandwich
into his mouth.
"Kiriwar." The roguish man grinned whilst playing with his food.
"Adalbert Grantz." The blonde introduced with a strained smile.

"Engel is the woman." He continued as he saw that Engel was still
trying to calm herself down.
"And you?" Weasley asked him.
Marcaunon's lips parted and just as he was about to answer, the

door slammed opened and a man that appeared in his middle 20s
strode inside, almost as if he were gliding with those long legs of his
- his leather shoes not making even the slightest of noises when the
man walked towards the head seat. The man had dark brown,
almost black, short hair that was neatly combed to one side, and
eyebrows that were curved almost elegantly. His features were
highly attractive in the eyes of both males and females - high and
sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, and lips that were curled slightly
into a confident smirk. The man wore a white collared shirt
underneath his black fitted vest and slim fit dress pants. His crimson
leather belt matching his tie.
The most attractive feature of the man however, was those narrowed
crimson eyes of his. Marcaunon could only force his entire body to
relax when scarlet met familiar crimson. He was so screwed if this
was who he thought it was.
A/N: Please join my FB group (the link is in my profile) for

updates and if you wish to enquire about Silk Roads or Mad
Inventor! It's really hard to give answers to Guests so… yeah!
[1] Google 'As Nodt' for a clearer image. He's from Bleach and I just
love his mask!
I'm so glad that many of you like my previous chapter! I spent the
whole day watching and re-watching Resident Evil Apocalypse just
so I could get the feel of all the characters. I needed to find some
holes in the movie so that Marc could fit right in without it feeling
awkward or overdone, so I'm really really really glad that it all worked
out well enough! Thank you so much for all your reviews and
feedbacks!
Alright guys, I'm sorry for suddenly posting an A/N and not chapter
15. I know I disappointed you all when you saw that Silk Roads had
updated… So yeah, you have my apologies. Let's see… I guess
another apology I have to give is because of the late update even
though I said it'll be up soon! I got caught up with watching
Torchwood - please blame the person who introduced it to me.
Story recommendation for today: Inhale, Exile by MissMayFlowers.

This is a HP/Death Note crossover, featuring MOD!HP. Wooo~ There
just aren't that many MoD slash fics these days. Anyway, in this fic,
Harry became the last of his kind due to… Well, the story is new so
I'm really not sure why, but I could take a guess that it involves a
certain Dark Lord. He and his 3 house elves were the only Magicals
left, and for him to occupy his mind he decided to take on mystery
solving. He met L soon enough during the Kira case… and… Well,
you should go read it. It's really interesting!
Rainbows and Letters,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 17
latter. MoD!Harry
Main Pairing: HP/LV (Marcaunon/Voldemort - not Chaos)

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 16: Chance Encounters
Date: 01 May 1967
Marchosias sighed in disappointment as he has yet again failed to

locate anything regarding his biological father. He closed his
mother's desk drawer harder than intended due to the sheer
frustration he had accumulated, and crossed his arms in thought as
he leaned against the huge parchment filled desk.
The Goblins were out. Blood rituals were out. Ancestry potions were
out. Britain's pureblood lords were out. Family tree tapestry was out.
Asking his Godfather would be a useless waste of time on both their
parts. The Gaunts had no other survivor except his other, younger
yet physically older self, and Marchosias refused to believe that he
was born from an incestuous relationship - Marcaunon wasn't the
type that would fuck his own brother or father.
He raked a hand through his hair and pushed himself off the desk.
Perhaps he could take a walk around to cool his head off - and to get
more ideas of course. He knew that that slut Vevila would be
searching for him soon, so he made haste as he wandlessly
summoned the floo powder that was on the mantle of the fireplace
(he would be taller than the damn fireplace soon) and threw a
handful before stepping inside.
"Leaky Cauldron."
He stepped out from the pub's fireplace with no difficulty on his part,
and wandlessly yet subtly vanished all the soot that had made home
onto his clothing - no animal onesies thankfully, only a dark red shirt
with a form fitting dark vest and pants. Even though he was feeling
quite sullen, he schooled his features into one of carefree innocence
with practiced ease and strode towards the entrance of Diagon Alley,
intending on searching for other's misfortune - he wasn't shy to say
that he was the type of person who took pleasure in the sorrow of
others.
He stood in front of the entryway and just as he was about to tap the
access pattern on the bricks with his finger, a man cleared his throat
behind him to gain Marchosias's attention. He hid his irritation by
smiling shyly up at the man. The man however froze in his place as
his hazel eyes widened just a fraction. Marchosias didn't expect such
a reaction but assumed that this was one of his mother's many
acquaintances that didn't know of his existence - he did look eerily
alike Marcaunon after all.
"Yes mister?" he tilted his head to the side cutely and forced his eyes
to widened as if to show pure innocence on his part.
Whilst the man was busy gaping at Marchosias, his ruby eyes
roamed the tall figure before him. He has short messy dark brown
hair, hazel eyes, and was definitely well-build. The man looked to be
in his middle to late thirties judging by the wrinkles carved into his
face. There was a ring on his ring finger, proudly displaying that the
man was married. Perched on his nose however was a circular
framed eyeglass that was eerily similar to Harry Potter's. It made his
blood boil just thinking about the brat that was listed on the top of his
hit list before he firmly reeled in his hatred and anger. This wasn't
Potter (he spat the name with acid even in his mind) for Morgana's
sake. Just someone who looked eerily similar to that undying brat.
"Eh…" The Potter-look-alike cleared his throat once more before he

smiled down at Marchosias. "Were you separated from your parents,
little boy?"
"Daddy told me to wait for him at Flourish and Blotts, but I got
curious and entered Leaky. Please don't tell him!" His eyes
automatically watered and he stared up at the man with obvious
guilt. Oh how he loathed using such a degrading form of
manipulation, but alas, little boys were unable to charm adults
without the victim appearing as though they were pedophiles.
"Fear not little one, we'll just have to keep this a secret from your…
daddy then." The way the stranger said daddy was odd, and
Marchosias stored it into his mental files just in case. "Though let's
get you back to Flourish before your daddy finds out."
"But… Daddy told me not to follow strangers." He crossed his arms

like a petulant child and gave the man an adorably pouty but
suspicious glare.
"And your daddy is right… However I am no stranger." The man

smiled and patted Marchosias's head as if he were a puppy. The
temptation to cause harm, and maybe maim this fool was high but he
continued his act. "I'm Charlus Potter, a… friend of your daddy's."
He inwardly grimaced at his streak of bad luck. No way in hell will he

bloody go with a Potter of all people!
… That was what he would've preferred anyway, however he was

curious as to his mother's and this man's relationship. Potter didn't
conceal the guilty expression on his face quick enough when he had
said friend .
"Really?" He drew closer and tugged on Potter's robe sleeve

childishly as he peered into Potter's hazel eyes. "But why didn't
daddy say anything about you?"
The man winced and in that very moment, he brushed against

Charlus's outer layer of thoughts. The man's mind shields were
moderate at best, but he wasn't called the most feared legilimens
even in his younger days for nothing - the man wouldn't even feel
anything unless Marchosias prodded deeper.
Marchosias's discovery almost made him AK the man that very

instant. Oh he had other plans for this fucker rather than to grant him
a quick and painless death.
Charlus trailed kisses onto the body of a slender and pale young
man with messy dark hair, his hazel eyes not once leaving hesitant
scarlet as he parted his bed partner's legs widely.
He forced the body beneath him to turn and pulled the pale man's
waist up so that his rear was bared. He licked his lips in excitement
and kneaded the rounded globes before him - he could feel his
strained member wanting desperately to enter such a beautiful body.
…
" You want more don't you, you damn whore?" He huskily asked as
he thrust deeper into the tight body, relishing in the moans the pale
man beneath him let out. He observed how his one night stand had
his hands gripped tightly (knuckle white) onto the sheets, and he
whispered words into his bed partner's ear - words that he didn't
know had hurt this man more than he knew.
" Scream for me."
He turned the pale man over and stared into the tear stained, yet
deliciously blushing face. He smirked at the thought of him having
the chance to dominate such a beautiful man and thrust in harder
than entirely necessary, loving the sound of excited (pained) moans
that this whore was giving him.
" S-stop…"
" I… know you love… this."
" N-no p… please… Ah!"
" You like that? You little slut…"
He caressed his bed partner's soft and silky dark locks, fascinated
by how sexy this pale man was even when unconscious. He shook
his head to rid of his dirty thoughts and quickly donned on his attire -
he had to get back home to fetch his wife for their marriage
anniversary soon.
He took out his wand and pointed it at the young man's head.
" You were a good lay, but my wife would kill me if she were to find
out what happened between us. No hard feelings eh? Obliviate ."
Marchosias only blinked rapidly at the tragic news of him being a
half-Potter (and Harry's fucking future uncle ), not wanting to show
any outward reaction that may bring forth suspicion - now was really
not the time to be hysteric over his current body's sperm donor! He
pushed the disturbing thoughts out of his mind. He had other things
to think about, like how Charlus Potter had practically forced himself
onto his (very unwilling) mother. Marcaunon would've never cried
even under immense torture, his mother's pain tolerance was off the
charts, so it was obvious that his mother didn't want Potter's fucking
dick inside of him!
This fucking Potter however didn't stop even when he knew that
deep inside, Marcaunon had wanted the man to stop. He just kept
going because he was too sexually aroused - no consideration about
his partner's, even if it was only for one night, pain and discomfort at
all. Yes Marchosias was mentally scarred at seeing his mother with a
dick shoved inside his arse, but this situation at hand took higher
priority - he was already considered insane during his reign once
upon a time after all. A little more mental scarring won't hurt him.
His blood boiled as his murderous intent spiked up to massive levels,

however on the outside, he continued to smile innocently at the man,
who had offered his hand to Marchosias with a kind smile. He took
said appendage and walked with a skip in his step as if he was an
excited child on a trip to a candy store.
Charlus Potter would rue the day he touched Marchosias's mother

that way - Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt was his . His eyes narrowed
dangerously and if anybody were to take a proper look into them,
they would've fled the minute his ruby orbs had changed into
crimson - madness was the only emotion that was recognizable, and
they would've undoubtedly compared Marchosias Mort Gaunt to a
beast hunting for blood.
Date: 01 May 1967

Location: Malfoy Manor, Conference room
The meeting proceeded soon after the man, whom Marcaunon wish
wasn't who he knew that man was, sat at the head seat. Panic
clawed at him, threatening to show on his face, however Marcaunon
only rolled his shoulders as if to reduce an ache and thank Merlin
that he actually wore a mask for this alias - he contradicted himself
but his identity as a Gaunt was of a greater importance than eating
(delicious looking) snacks.
"Gentlemen - and you as well, my Lady," His voice was that of a rich
baritone, and Marcaunon saw Engel quiver from the corner of his
eyes - perhaps in fear? "I thank you all for taking the time off your
busy schedules to attend this meeting. I am called Voldemort, and I
will be the future employer of my chosen two from this selection."
Marcaunon swallowed inaudibly at the confirmation that yes, this

was Voldemort and not just a mere doppelganger. The others had no
idea of what they were getting into - whichever two who were to be
chosen would be marked for life. And he meant for life . The Dark
Mark was so deeply engraved into a person's arm and Magical core,
that any intention of cutting said arm would cause excruciating pain
far worse than that of the Cruciatus curse - it may even lead to
insanity.
How he now regretted Ignatius's fabricated trait of accepting shady

job offers that seemed interesting and challenging enough. After this
proposition was done and over with, he would head straight back to
the guild master and announce that Ignatius Rose was on hiatus for
an undetermined amount of time… but first, he would need to
retrieve his invitation card from the guards - his Magical signature
that was inserted into said card could be traced back to him.
"Are there only two vacancies?" Kiriwar asked with a confident grin
as he crossed his arms over his muscular chest.
"Indeed." Voldemort took out a quill, an inkpot, and a folder from who
knows where and placed it atop the table in front of him. "Now if
each of you were to inform me of the reasons as to why you were
recommended by your guild master, Jellal, I would be most pleased."
Alright, a chance has presented itself. His acting was top notched
and he could downplay his skills without much suspicion.
Voldemort's eyes landed on Iunius first, and he took out a blank
parchment from within the folder. The pot belly man seemed to get
the hint as he brushed the crumbs off of his robe before speaking.
"I am called Iunius. I've been a Potions' Master for… 17 years. I

created many Temperature Protection potions, as well as boil cures.
I specialize in health potions."
The chubby man's length of experience did not fulfil to his

achievements good enough for him to stand out amongst his rivals.
Many competent Potions' Masters would be able to achieve much
more in seventeen years. Marcuanon mentally crossed Iunius out
from the list and gnawed his bottom lip worriedly - the rest would
hopefully be better to gain the attention of Voldemort. Hopefully .
"People call me Kiriwar. Two years since I became a Master. I

created the Night vision eye drops. My specialty lies in Perception
Increase potions."
Perception Increase potions were definitely difficult for even Masters

to brew. If they were to even stir in the incorrect direction, the results
could prove harmful to the user. They could turn blind, or deaf, or
mute, or all three actually. He mentally highlighted Kiriwar's name on
his list, however his attitude could use some work.
"Felix Weasley. Four years since I've attained my Mastery. I created

the Nightmare potion, and I also enhanced the Aging potion to last
slightly longer. I specialize in mind effect concoctions."
Now this was a (pleasant) surprise. Albus would be weeping right

about now if he were to find out that one of his beloved Weasleys
had created such a deadly potion - the creator of these types of
potions were normally only known by the guild master of the
creator's guild. The Nightmare potion was mainly used for mental
torture since its time of creation, and even after decades had passed
by, it was still a popular choice for Dark Wizards - especially Death
Eaters. He had to give credit to this man - definitely someone who
will be hired, even if he was from a Light oriented family.
"Engel Souen!" Engel's face was beet red as she stared dreamily at
Voldemort - Marcaunon was briefly reminded of Luna. Maybe Engel
was a seer as well as a Potions' Mistress? "I have twenty years of
experience in being a Potions' Mistress, and my most accomplished
enhancement was Amortentia - my recipe prolongs the potion's
effects. My specialty is creams - anti-wrinkle creams, skin bleach
creams, and fat-burning creams to name a few."
Marcaunon blinked owlish at the only woman in the room before he

crossed her name from the list instantly - even if it was pretty
impressive of her to enhance such a delicate potion, Voldemort
hated Amortentia more than anything in the world (for Chaos it had
to be Harry Potter though). The future Dark Lord was born from his
mother dosing his father with Amortentia after all.
He idly wondered how old Engel was underneath all that makeup of
hers - probably older than Iunius. Marcaunon could never cease to
be amazed at how women were similar to metamorphmagus with
their makeups. But twenty years of experience in making beauty
products… Now she was definitely someone who would die with
youthful, wrinkle free features.
"Adalbert Grantz. It's been six years since I held my Masters'

certificate. My specialty lies in hair potions. I enhanced the Eye-
correction eye drops as well as the Pepperup potion."
He shook his head slightly at the blonde - do all blondes have hair
obsessions? He recalled the time when he sneaked into Malfoy
Manor and swapped all (there was a room specifically for hair
products) their branded hair products with hair thinning potions. That
day, he was hunted down like a criminal by the entire Malfoy family. It
was one of the still fond memories he had of his own ruined world.
Although the Malfoy family would love nothing but to hire Adalbert,
Marcaunon was unsure if Voldemort was the type to be caught up
with his looks - he did after all sacrifice them for immortality. Adalbert
Grantz was crossed out from his mental list as well. Voldemort would
undoubtedly be hiring Felix and Kiriwar - they were the most
beneficial to his cause.
"You're next whitey." Kiriwar grinned roguishly and slouched forward

onto the table. He mentally rolled his eyes at the uncouth bloke.
"Ignatius Rose." He drawled with boredom. There were a few sharp

intakes of breaths, but he ignored them - it was an expected
reaction. "I attained my Mastery last year-"
"Prove that you're actually Ignatius Rose and not someone

pretending to be him." Kiriwar gave him a dangerous grin with
narrowed eyes - eyes that were filled with jealousy and denial.
"I created the Liquid Happiness or Felix Laetificans." He continued

as if Kiriwar had not said anything. He saw the man twitch at being
ignored and only smiled smugly underneath his mask -getting onto
other people's nerves was a trait and hobby of Ignatius Rose…
though they amuse Marcaunon as well.
"I've yet submitted any enhanced potions before, and I am still

unsure about my specialization due to my inexperience." There. He
was definitely not getting the job now - nobody would hire someone
without previous experience in enhancing and no specialty
whatsoever.
Everyone was silent for a moment before Kiriwar stood up angrily

with his hands slammed against the tabletop - quite forcefully he
might add.
"He's definitely a fake! Ignatius Rose's specialty is potions creation -

everyone in the guild knows that! It's common knowledge!" Kiriwar
barked and glowered at him with hateful eyes.
Marcaunon wondered if the roguish man was a fan of his - many of
the Department of Inventions personnel were sorely disappointed
when they found out that he was indeed Ignatius Rose, mainly due
to his arrogant demeanor and his habit of talking over someone he
deemed unworthy. He only studied his nails with bored scarlet eyes,
knowing that this would further irk the hot tempered male further.
"Hey! Are you listening to me, huh!?"
Kiriwar's voice softened and became background noises to

Marcaunon, as they entered his right ear and exited his left almost
instantly. He idly thought back to what his little Chaos was doing -
the little tyke was definitely bored out of his mind, and a bored Chaos
was a destructive Chaos. Marcaunon hoped that his bedchambers
would still remain intact after he had returned from this uneventful
meeting. He didn't know why that child wanted to know who his fath-
"Whitey! Hey! Don't ignore me you bloody-"
-er was badly. It wasn't as if his son's sperm donor was important,
and Marcaunon would rid of Charlie soon enough. He was just
delaying the inevitable because of all the paperwork that had
accumulated whilst he was busy with something far more important.
That was the only reason. It was not like he was avoiding his one
night stand. Pssh. Like real. He sighed at his thoughts and
absentmindedly scratched Suki's head. Maybe he should order
Death to kill that bastard?
"It would be wise of you to take a seat, Mr. Kiriwar… Before I lose
more of my patience." Voldemort's sharp and cutting tone brought
him back from his inattention and he focused back to the meeting.
Kiriwar reluctantly sat back down, however he continued to bore

holes into the side of Marcaunon's head. He expertly and with
practiced ease disregarded Kiriwar's attempts of murdering him with
the glare of a basilisk's, and lowered his head slightly. It made his
fringe fall into his eyes, and even though he could still partially see, it
was better than nothing - his heart was hurting with guilt (something
he previously thought he had discarded) every time he looked at
Voldemort. It was ultimately Harry Potter's fault for killing the Dark
Lord and dooming his world into a desert wasteland.
A parchment soon appeared in front of each of them, and they

picked it up to read. Marcaunon blinked at what was written on it
before he looked up, only to regret it a second later. Voldemort was
staring at him intently, and it made his heart beat faster if that was
even possible - as if he was experiencing cardiac arrest. He loathed
the feeling and wondered if Voldemort would cover his face with a
paper bag if Marcaunon were to ask nicely.
"Pardon me for asking, but have we met before, Mr. Rose?"

Voldemort whispered softly to him whilst the others were still busy
with reading their parchment, those narrowed crimson eyes taking in
every detail of his reactions.
"I'm sure I would've remembered someone as charismatic as you,

Mr. Gaunt, if we were to have met before." He whispered back after
a second, and made sure that his hands were nowhere near his
mask - people tend to cover or scratch their lips when they tell a lie.
He needed to time his answers perfectly so that he would not appear
suspicious in Voldemort's eyes - instant replies would convince
Voldemort that he was lying, whilst delayed replies obviously meant
that he was making shite up.
Voldemort only continued to gaze at him attentively. He was beyond

unnerved at this point and decided to pull the man's wondering
thoughts into getting back on track.
"May I ask for an explanation regarding this?" He spoke louder so

that everyone would be able to hear his question, and tapped the
parchment gently with a sharpened black polished nail.
Voldemort's eyes narrowed slightly at him (calm down heart!) before

he blinked and looked away - it reminded him eerily of Chaos. He
was barely able to contain in his relieved sigh at having those
crimson orbs away from him.
"Certainly. I require all of you to brew the potion written on your
respective parchments. This will allow for me to access your
practical skills."
"How long do we have?" Iunius asked as he rubbed his stubble chin

in thought.
"However long you may require. I have already prepared a lab for
each of you." Voldemort stood up and waved them to do the same,
which they did. "You will each be observed by my men."
"You think we will cheat?" Kiriwar sneered as he tilted his head

slightly upwards, as if looking down on Voldemort.
"Just standard precautions." Voldemort might have seemed

nonchalant to the eyes of strangers, but Marcaunon had known him
long enough to know that Voldemort was putting in effort to rein back
his temper due to Kiriwar's unmarked status - it wouldn't be good to
scare of potential minions after all.
The crimson eyed man turned on his heels and moved further into
the conference room where a dark, almost unnoticeable door was at.
They followed behind Voldemort and after they have entered, noticed
that there were six more doors - their respective names already
carved onto each door.
Voldemort only smiled charmingly as he waved for them to enter

their designed labs.
He crossed his right leg over his other as he flipped through yet
another magazine he had brought with him just in case - people tend
to stop trying to talk to him once he pretended to be reading intently.
He had finished his potion, Veritaserum, ages ago. However he
knew that an average person would take more than just fourteen
days to brew such a complex potion. Twenty eight days, or one lunar
phase, was the usual amount of time needed for completion for
most, if not all.
After he had walked into the lab he was provided with, he ignored his
examiner and summoned one of his beloved butterflies to give Death
a message to pass onto Chaos, and his son to Albus. Vevila would
likely be substituting his classes until his task was completed, and he
knew that Albus would understand because Potions' Masters usually
accepted a job or two from their guild every year - Slughorn was the
same of course.
Chaos though… He was worried about his son. His butterfly came
back only after a week had past, and reported to him that Chaos had
returned to Dormus Mortem covered with layers of blood on him. He
had all but ordered for the butterfly to keep an eye on Chaos, and to
report back to him if there was something amiss.
Fifteen days had passed and he was utterly bored out of his mind.
He had casted a Confundus Charm on his examiner, and it made the
Death Eater (mask and all) a little dazed and unresponsive… Fine, a
lot dazed and totally unresponsive. Again, he should emphasize how
bad he was at mind arts - legilimency was easy to him because he
just had to shatter all their shields and basically mind rape them. He
would think of something afterwards of course - he did not know
whether or not this particular Death Eater was important, and he did
not want to take any risk.
"Thirteen days to go…" He murmured solemnly as he ran a hand

through his still bleached white hair. "Thirteen days until I am able to
remove this bloody god forsaken mask off of my face."
His whole body twitched when his nose begun itching yet again. If
only he could just… scratch… that… itch… ! He slammed his hands
onto the stone table, which had scattered empty glass bottles on it
as well as his finished truth serum, and stood up from his seat. His
mask was definitely something to be thrown into his fireplace
afterwards.
Perhaps he could do something else, other than reading, to busy his

mind with. Making another batch of Veritaserum was out, since
Voldemort only provided the necessity amount for one bottle, and
conversing with Suki was also out in case someone overheard them.
"Why you gotta be so rude?~ Don't you know I'm human too?~ Why
you gotta be so rude?~ I'm gonna marry her anyway~" He sang
softly as he crouched down with his elbows rested firmly on his
kneecaps whilst he observed his familiar, strangling a rabbit he had
pulled out from his emergency supply bag, with boredom.
… Parasite songs were so catchy even after a century has passed

by - Magicals should really improve their music standards.
"Nice to meet, where you been? I could show you incredible things~"
He chuckled at Suki as the serpent gave an impression of a glare
when Marcaunon begun poking the rabbit that was halfway through
his familiar's jaws.
"Magic, madness, heaven, sin… Saw you there and I thought… Oh

my God, look at that face~ You look like, my next mistake~ Love's a
game, wanna play?~"
"I sincerely hope that you're only taking a break, Mr. Rose."
He was instantaneously a few steps away from his previous spot,

twirled around, and in a stance with his right arm horizontally across
his chest and his left tucked sharply backwards - both hands held
daggers that were pointed to the intruder as if preparing for an
instant kill.
He only managed to stiffen further when he recognized the intruder

to be Voldemort, who had his head tilted to one side. He recognized
the gesture as one of Chaos's unconscious habit he always
exhibited when intrigued. Marcaunon forced his body into a relaxed
state as he straightened up after hiding his daggers up his sleeves.
"I am." He murmured and shifted subtly to stand in front of his

finished concoction.
Voldemort's sharp eyes followed his backwards steps up until his
back touched the stone table, and with no further prompting needed,
the future Dark Lord stalked forward. Marcaunon held his ground as
his cousin stopped just in front of him, Voldemort's chest almost
touching his unmoving (frozen actually) body. He flinched when a
pair of long arms trapped him against the table, and shifted shyly
away from those arms that touched his sides - or tried pointlessly in
this case.
He mentally soothed himself into believing that he only felt

unbearable with Voldemort's close range due to his Ignatius Rose's
dislike for human contact persona, not because Marcaunon himself
was feeling impossibly unnerved.
Did Voldemort figure out that Ignatius Rose was only an alias? Why
was the future Dark Lord standing so close to him? Did the man
want to intimidate him with his bigger and taller frame? All these
questioned that raged through his mind made him almost sneer at
how pathetic he was being - he was not someone to be intimidated
that easily. He was the Master of Death, an immortal person with
unlimited amount of power.
Marcaunon narrowed his eyes into a dangerous glare as he tilted his

head upwards (he only reached Voldemort's shoulders) to meet the
man's gaze. Just as he parted his lips to demand the man to back
the fuck off (politely of course), Suki reared his head up and bared
his venomous fangs at Voldemort.
" Despicable two legged hairless monkey! How dare you touch
my Marcster so casually!?" He almost chocked on his own spit
when Suki called Voldemort a frickin hairless monkey of all animals.
Voldemort on the other hand, only raised an elegant brow as he
made an amused sound from the back of his throat. "Shall I sink
my fangs into this insolent two legged, Marcster?"
Marcaunon only blinked without even a hint of comprehension to

what his familiar had voiced out. Ignatius wasn't a Parselmouth, so
he should not be able to hear anything other than incoherent angry
hisses. Hopefully his familiar would get the clue and keep those jaws
firmly shut - why he didn't take precaution to inform Suki not to speak
to him was a mistake on his part. Mad-eye would've been sorely
disappointed in him if that one-legged man were to find out.
Voldemort ignored the irritated snake and reached behind

Marcaunon before he took a step back. This however did not
reassure him nor did it make his shoulders relax. In his cousin's right
hand was his finished bottle of Veritaserum. The man surveyed the
glass bottle for a moment as he hummed lowly in thought.
"It took you fifteen… no… less than fifteen days to complete such a
potion. I would've declared it impossible if it were done by anyone
other than you, Mr. Rose."
Marcaunon didn't know how to reply to that, so he only gave a

clueless expression, or tried to - his mask was still very present on
his face.
"Also, I do have to ask about what you did to my… employee over
there." Voldemort gestured towards the dazed Death Eater.
He weighed the pros and cons of telling the truth before he sighed
and patted Suki's head soothingly to calm the serpent. It would be
useless to lie about the Death Eater's condition. Voldemort would
undoubtedly be fixing his minion afterwards and find out what
Marcaunon did anyway.
"A Confundus charm gone wrong I'm afraid." He indifferently stated

as he shrugged his delicate shoulders. "I dislike being watched
whilst I work."
Voldemort gave a lingering glance at his minion before he turned on

his heels and headed towards the door, but not before demanding
that Marcaunon follow. He gathered his familiar onto his shoulders
and fell in step behind Voldemort, feeling dread radiating from his
gut.
A/N: There's a link at my profile if you wish to join my FB group.
… Ok fine I admitted that I intentionally delayed Voldemort's chapter

intro because I was on a sadistic streak. I'll stop being so cruel and
evil (as you all so eloquently put it) and make it so that MoD!Harry
with insanely amount of power and able to enter Death's realm to
transport himself anywhere… conveniently forget said power. See?
I'm so nice! Tell me I'm nice!
I can't believe it! I actually hit the 4 digit number for followers! Oh
Merlin! When I posted this fic, I only estimated that I would only get a
maximum of 200 ~ 300 followers. You know… bad grammar and
all… But I think I improved quite a lot (maybe… perhaps…). I really
thank you all for supporting me, and for those who asked me how
long this fic will be… I'm not really sure. I didn't know that my
average per chapter would be 4k words, so I guess it's a lot?
Story recommendation for today: Lily and the Art of Being

Sisyphus by The Carnivorous Muffin. This fic has tons of humor in it.
As much as I hate reading Fem!Harry, I love Muffin's writing style too
much to ignore such an awesome fic just because Harry's a female.
Lily (Harry's counterpart) thinks that magic is a glitch and that the
voice in her head is called Wizard Lenin, who is a revolutionist and
not a Dark Lord. She visits Death (the original Harry) every Sunday
and in order to visit him, has to kill herself. No she's not suicidal, she
just loves visiting her uncle Death. I think there's time travel inside if
my theory is right, but who knows? Still thankfully ongoing.
TMR/FemHP pairing. AU. Death!Harry and Death!Lily.
P.S. I just noticed that I should've recommended Holiday Spirit during

a Christmas chapter on the 25th… Grrrr…
Rainbows and Encounters,
GenderlessPerson
Christmas Special
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Christmas Special Chapter!
Date: 25 December 1975
Location: Hogwarts, Slytherin Dormitory, Chaos's room
Marchosias lay on his back with his hands behind his head, waiting
impatiently for the last of his roommates to leave the bathroom. He
was usually an early riser and the first to use the showers, however
he had returned to the dorm early into the morning and stupidly fell
asleep without setting his alarm clock. He rolled over to one side with
still heavy eyelids and buried his face into his bolster - it was too
comfortable and warm to be ignored.
The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made him perk up.
Finally. He shuffled out from underneath his covers and enveloped
his feet with layers of warming charms before he dared to venture
out of his bed. He should really remind his mother (again) to bring in
fluffy warm carpets for the winter time - the dungeon floors were just
too cold for this season, or any season really.
His roommate smiled and gave him small greeting as they passed
each other by, and he returned in kind, albeit a little more huskily
than intended to. He firmly ignored the way his roommate had turned
bright red and closed the bathroom door behind him - it wasn't his
fault that his voice was deliciously sexy after waking up. Even his
godfather had commented that it would be easy for him to attain a
lover - not that he didn't already know that. His mother on the other
hand wasn't pleased and had hugged him tightly whilst muttering
about murdering any hormonal teenagers that would try to jump on
his 'cute little baby boy' . Marchosias snorted at the reference.
He swiftly unbuttoned his green silk pajama top and slipped out of
his clothing before stepping into the shower stand. The hot water
that cascaded down his body made his muscles unwind, and he
tilted his head upwards with a relaxed sigh.
He didn't know how long he was in there for, but when he was finally
done, his fingertips were all pruney. He wiped himself dry and
donned on his winter uniform and Slytherin robe, forgoing his shoes
as per usual - he was powerful enough to make warming charms
that last the whole day without tiring. Even though school was out for
this day, he was still uncomfortable in wearing anything but his
uniform within the walls of Hogwarts - or perhaps he was just tired of
his mother's constant whining of 'you look so much cuter with
onesies, Chaos dear' .
When he stepped into the Slytherin common room, all eyes were
instantaneously upon his form. He withhold a sigh and strode
confidently forward, intending on getting some breakfast for his visit
to his mother - he might not seemed like the type, but he wanted to
receive his gifts from Marcaunon and Mort without further delay. He
absently fingered the onyx pendant that was given to him by his
mother on his forth birthday and smiled slightly in remembrance. It
was a happy occasion for him, and even if all the gifts he had
received from his two guardians were useless, he would still treasure
them like they were one of his Horcruxes. He suddenly scowled.
Was he turning soft ?
" Good morning, Salazar." He greeted the portrait of his ancestor

as he stood in front of his mother's private quarters, a paper carry
bag containing food in his left hand.
" Why if it isn't young Marchosias." The elder Slytherin crossed

his right leg over the other as he leaned back on his throne
arrogantly - it was an endearing sight he has long gotten used to.
"You're late for an early riser."
" I overslept. Is mother still in?"
" He is." Salazar suddenly gave him an amused smirk that made
Marchosias's instinct scream out that something was wrong. "Along
with another man."
He narrowed his ruby eyes in suspicion, not liking the way his
ancestor's green orbs were shining with mirth.
" Open."
" Do try to control yourself." Was what he heard as he stepped

through the portrait slash entrance.
He strode forward and just as he turned the corner, his whole body
stilled. There, on the settee, was his long term antagonist, Tom
Riddle, Marvolo Gaunt, or Voldemort - the man changed names
depending on the situation. He bristled like a cat when his physically
older self smirked in what was known to be haughtiness at
Marchosias as he brought the wine glass to his lips.
"Riddle." He hissed with narrowed eyes, feeling quite satisfied when

Voldemort's grip on the glass tightened - Riddle wasn't something
the both of them liked to be called by. "What a pleasant surprise to
see you here. One would think that a man of your stature does not
have much free time - or am I wrong in thinking that you hold even a
candle to your political colleagues ?"
"Oh Chaos," His most hated person in the world cooed mockingly.
"your painfully obvious expression of hatred brings great pleasure to
my already festive spirits."
This cheeky (and not in a good way) little… Marchosias gritted his
teeth in frustration and schooled his expression into one of bored
indifference. His younger and much arrogant self would always
cause his childish emotions to appear at the most inconvenient of
times - stupid bothersome uncontrollable teenage hormones they
are.
"My, you're quite bold today. Did those useless maneuvers you
called schemes finally attain good results?" Voldemort's mask
cracked and Marchosias grinned gleefully. "Oh wait… He thinks of
you as only his cousin . Nothing more… nothing less. How pitiful . I
would offer you solace, but alas, I have no sympathy for a conceited
gentleman such as yourself."
The glass in Voldemort's hold shattered into a thousand pieces, and

Marchosias's grin turned deranged as he watched his younger self
waved a negligent hand to clean the mess he had caused, before
standing up with a cold expression on his beautifully sculptured face
- the same face he saw in the mirror every morning with only a few
slight differences to tell them apart.
"Watch your tongue, Marchosias Gaunt. Your mother would grieve if

you were to lose it due to your carelessness with words."
"And you should watch where your hands roam, lest they become
affected with gangrene."
Marchosias hated the way Voldemort touched his mother. A friendly

pat to Marcaunon's shoulder would turn into an intimate caress of his
mother's arms - Voldemort doing the caressing and Marcaunon just
smiling innocently back. It was downright infuriating to watch such a
thing without being able to do anything - his mother would always
give him a disapproving gaze when he openly forced his counterpart
to back away via physical or Magical means.
"Mother complex." Voldemort only laughed without a hint of emotion.
He twitched, yet still maintained his gleeful grin. He could kill his
younger self without much problem, seeing that he would soon be
reaching his Magical majority. He was already powerful as it is,
seeing that he was a reincarnated soul - adding in his vast amount of
knowledge, he could literally take over the Ministry with sheer force
alone.
"At least I have a mother," a low blow even for him, though totally
worth it when Voldemort's lips twisted into an animalistic snarl. "and
was not conceived by a love potion."
"Mark my words, Marchosias Gaunt. I will painfully kill you someday."
"And I shall grant you something far worse than even death could
provide." Like forcing Voldemort into nothing but a pitiful wraith -
preferably forever.
They glared at each other, both their crimson (he was beyond
furious) eyes glowing with power just waiting to be released. How he
wished Mana was here - he would've sicked his serpent onto his
younger self. Voldemort was lucky that she was currently hibernating
together with Suki inside the Chamber of Secrets - Jormy was
tasked to guard them every year during winter.
"Marvolo," The exasperated voice of his mother made him school his
features. It wouldn't be good to look so murderous so early in the
morning after all. "have you seen where I put my glas-oh… Good
morning Chaos dear. Did you have a good night's sleep?"
Marcaunon went up to him and he habitually bent forward so that he

was closer to his mother's height. Marcaunon planted a kiss on his
forehead and smiled lovingly at him.
"I did. And good morning to you as well, mother. I brought breakfast."
He took ahold of his mother's elbow and led him away from
Voldemort, and towards the small dining area - where they usually
ate if they didn't want to dine at the Great Hall. "Did you sleep well?"
"Thanks, love. I'm starving. And I couldn't sleep - all nighter sadly."
"Where's your assistant? I don't see him anywhere."
"On leave. You know that his family wanted him home to celebrate
Christmas ." His mother sneered out the holiday as if it was
something disgusting. Nothing unusual about that.
"And why is that waste of space here?"
"I don't understand your constant animosity to your uncle…"
"Because."
"Because…?"
"Just because."
Marcaunon only shook his head as if resigned, and sat down at the
seat he was led to. Their dining area contained a four seater wooden
table, and he sat at his mother's right. Voldemort, being the
detestable person he was, followed after them and sat opposite of
him to his mother's left. It was wishful thinking on his part that
Voldemort would get the clue (oh Marchosias knew that bastard did)
that he wasn't wanted anywhere near them.
"Pardon me for not bringing your share as well, uncle dearest ." He
smiled charmingly as he removed the plates of food from the paper
bag. "I, after all, had no idea that you were lurking around here like a
stalker."
"You need not be apologetic, Chaos. I could always share with your
mother."
"I'm actually on a diet right now. So you can be eternally grateful with
having half of my share."
"I prefer turkey-" Marchosias swapped his chicken wrap with

Marcaunon's turkey wrap, ignoring the way his mother had closed
his eyes as if praying for patience.
"And I have turkey."
They both continued to smile at one another, neither planning on

giving in. He would rather die than approve of his younger self's
intentions towards his mother - it was already a shock to find out that
he had a counterpart in this alternate universe. Having said
counterpart court his biological mother? Over his fucking dead body.
It was not happening. Nope. Never. Ever.
"Do you both have to bicker like children so early in the morning?"
Marcaunon sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And have you
seen my glasses, Marvolo? They're missing. Again."
"We were just conversing, Marc. And no, I have not."
Marchosias snorted softly. What a liar Voldemort was. It was obvious

that his counterpart had destroyed that abomination Marcaunon
called glasses - which he grudgingly approved of. He tore the turkey
wrap into two halves and threw (hard) one at Voldemort, who caught
it with no problem. He clicked his tongue in evident annoyance and
took a bite out of his wrap violently, yet still looking graceful. His
younger self only smirked at him whilst Marcaunon shook his head at
their antics.
"Why are you here anyway?" Being straight forward was the only
way he could gain an answer from Voldemort.
"I'm merely spending Yule with my family, is that so wrong, dear

Chaos?"
"Your date is what's wrong, uncle dearest. Are you growing senile?"
"I was unable to be here at the 21st. I'm sure you understand that I'm
a busy person - you will soon turn fifteen after all… Though I highly
doubt you're mentality is of that age just yet."
"Oh? At least I don't have an appearance of an old man." He

beamed at Voldemort as he stabbed his salad with a salad fork
harder than required.
"My, your eyes must be in poor condition to mistaken my youthful

appearance for such. Perhaps I should help gouge your eyeballs out
and exchange them for better ones?" Voldemort smiled back
patiently as he used his spoon to violently scoop out a portion of
mashed potatoes from Marcaunon's plate.
"Alright that's enough!" His mother sharply cut in before he could hurl
yet another insult at Voldemort - the cycle of endless bickering.
"Merlin… Just… Eat your breakfast."
He scowled as he nibbled the disgusting broccoli on his fork - it

wouldn't be good to waste good food, no matter the horrid taste. He
swallowed with a slight grimace and put his fork down, already losing
his appetite just by Voldemort seating together with them.
"Where's Mort, mother?" He questioned as he lifted his beloved

coffee mug to his lips.
"I haven't the faintest idea." Marcaunon hummed in thought before

he continued. "Though he should be arriving soon."
Breakfast continued in that fashion, with him and Voldemort trading
barbs at one another. Marcaunon just ignoring them after a few
number of times trying and failing to get them to stop. When the
three finally finished with their food, they made their way towards the
lounge. He made sure that Voldemort was seated on the armchair
whilst he and Marcaunon sat at the settee.
"Little Lord." Chaos looked over his right shoulder and raised a brow
- Mort was always appearing at random moments behind the person
being spoken to. "Your present."
His godfather dropped a small box wrapped in black on his lap and
ruffled his hair with a gloved clad hand. He thanked the mysterious
man and pocketed his gift - he was so not opening it in front of
Voldemort.
"What about me?" Marcaunon said with wide puppy dog eyes.
Even though Mort's face was shadowed as usual, Marchosias just

knew that Mort was avoiding looking into Marcaunon's eyes. He only
spun on his heel and walked away, but not before shrugging his
shoulders nonchalantly.
"Meanie…" His mother pouted and huffed as soon as Mort was

gone.
"I did get you something, Marc." Voldemort purred as he stood in

front of Marcaunon (when did he get there!?) before leaning forward,
their noses almost touching. "Though I would rather give you
something bigger and more pleasurable ."
A tic appeared on Marchosias's temple and he took a deep breath to

keep his calm. Voldemort was just taunting him - his counterpart
knew that those kinds of innuendos would lead him nowhere when
dealing with Marcaunon. A medium sized rectangular box wrapped in
Slytherin green was handed to his mother and Voldemort (finally!)
backed off to return to his previous seat.
"Thank you, Marvolo." Mother beamed at Voldemort with a slight
reddening of his pale cheeks, and Marchosias could practically see
what kind of thoughts his arrogant younger self was having. "May I
open it now?"
Voldemort nodded and crossed his right leg over the other, the sight
similar to his ancestor's portrait, however he didn't feel even an
ounce of affection for this man. His mother was careful with
unwrapping the box, and only after a minute had passed did they
manage to see what was inside. Marchosias shifted closer as
Marcaunon took out a silver briefcase from within the box. They both
looked at Voldemort with identical raised brows, however Voldemort
only gestured for his mother to open said briefcase.
The silver briefcase clicked opened and both their eyes widened.
Inside was filled with all sorts of weirdly shaped knives - mainly to
bring forth excruciating pain rather than to cut cleanly. He blinked
rapidly in disbelief and deadpanned at Voldemort. His counterpart
actually gave knives used mainly for torture as a Yule present. He
knew what his mother's reaction would be like and cursed his
younger self to hell and back.
"Oh Marvolo… I'll be sure to use it frequently!" Marcaunon's eyes

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

and skipped to Voldemort. He twitched violently in his seat when his
mother hugged his most hated foe tightly, which was returned with
eagerness.
Voldemort, that arsehole, was peering at him from Marcaunon's
shoulder with a pleased expression. He gritted his teeth and glared
at that bastard when those fucking hands of his shifted lower . It was
time to intervene!
"Mother I have a gift for you as well."
It was an instant reaction that made Voldemort glower at him. His

mother released his physically older self and skipped towards him in
anticipation. He pulled his mother onto his lap and wrapped an arm
around Marcaunon's waist - he needed to replace Voldemort's
cooties with his. With his free hand, he took out a small sized circular
box and handed it to his mother. Marcaunon immediately opened the
lid, revealing a black flask bangle inside.
"It's filled with chocolate liquor. And it will refill as soon as it is empty."
"Thank you, Chaos dear. Now I can finally appease my cravings

during class!" His mother wrapped those pale scarred arms around
his neck and kissed his cheek in gratitude.
He shot his glowering counterpart a shit-eating grin and wrapped his

arms tighter around his mother. Hah! Of course chocolate was
Marcaunon's favorite thing in the world - and not even torture tools
could hold a candle to his mother's incomparable sweet tooth.
"Oh I have a present for the both of you as well."
Marcaunon jumped out from his lap and took two presents from who
knows where, but not before he slipped the flask bangle through his
left wrist. He then plopped a crimson red wrapped box onto
Marchosias's lap, before doing the same to Voldemort. "I hope you
both'll like it." Marcaunon returned to his seat and beamed at them.
He unwrapped the present and blinked owlish at what was inside the
box. It was a shrunken espresso maker. He took it out and waved a
hand over it to return it to its original size. He tilted his head curiously
and turned to his mother.
"Will this work even in Hogwarts?"
"Yess." Marcaunon nodded proudly. "I tinkered with it a little so that it

works with Magic no problem."
"Thank you, mother." He smiled softly and kissed his mother's cheek
in appreciation. He was glad that he could use Magic on this
machinery to prepare coffee whilst he was busy with taking a
shower.
He turned to Voldemort when he heard a rattling noise and almost

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

called themselves my followers…" Voldemort murmured as he
examined the spiked chain. "Thank you, love."
Marcaunon beamed, and he could see a tint of red creeping onto his
mother's cheeks. He scowled. His mother may be dense, but his
feelings for Voldemort were painfully obvious - even if he did say that
Marcaunon liked Voldemort as only a cousin.
"You're welcome! I'll go get some eggnog." Marcaunon bounced

away.
"… As much as I loathe be doing this, you are a Gaunt as well."

Voldemort spoke and threw something at him.
He caught it and stared at the rectangular thin gift that was wrapped
with Slytherin green, resting innocently on his palm. He sighed and
rubbed the bridge of his nose. He really hated how alike their thought
process was.
"And I as well." He threw a circular shaped small box at Voldemort,

which the man caught, and tore open the gift he had received.
He shot a look at the man as his finger traced the letter T.M.R. on the
cover of a very familiar looking black diary. Was Voldemort trying to
drain out his life force using the Horcrux he had made from Myrtle's
death? Voldemort on the other hand, fingered the Slytherin crest
cufflinks with a serene look on his face.
"That diary contains a portion of my memories when I was a

teenager. If you have trouble with schoolwork, it is not shameful to
ask - or in this case, write - for aid." Voldemort said slowly and stared
into Marchosias's eyes for a moment before he continued. "I would
ask that you not rid of it, and to keep it safe from those who wish it
harm."
His hands tightened on his previous boyhood diary and struggled to

keep the confusion off of his face. Why was Voldemort handing over
one of his Horcruxes so easily? There was a chance that Marchosias
would use it against him if he were to find out. What Voldemort didn't
know however… was that he could never destroy any of the man's
Horcrux - it felt wrong to destroy a piece of his own soul. So he only
nodded and pocketed the diary into his shoulder book bag.
"I will guard it."
"I'm counting on you then."
They didn't thank one another, only remained uncharacteristically

silent the whole time as they waited for Marcaunon.
"I'm glad to see that this place hasn't been destroyed by the both of
you." Marcaunon stated airily as he came back with three goblets
and a jug full of eggnog.
He chuckled and smiled as he stood up to help his mother with the
heavy looking jug of eggnog. Just another ordinary year of
celebrating Yule with his dysfunctional, psychopathic, yet endearing
family members. And yes, he counted in Voldemort as well - only at
times like this though.
A/N: There's a link to my FB group at my profile. Join if you feel

like it~ Oh and, Merry Christmas everyone!
Hope you all enjoyed this Christmas Special chapter! This is also a
sneak peek into the future to see the three Gaunts' relationship with
one another. It might take a while for Voldemort and Marc to be
together with Chaos's constant interference, but Voldie's a persistent
bloke hm?
Now it's time to answer some reviews! Thank you for saying I am
'nice' and not 'evil' by the way. Buahahhaa!
Yes I… am not really good with names, so I decided to borrow some

from animes - like Adalbert von Grantz (Kyou Kara Maou) and
Kiriwar (Togainu no Chi). Felix is from Pewdiepie by the way
Hahahaha~ It took me too long to think of a name, so I just said heck
it and googled for some of my favourite characters and people. For
those who are curious about the song Marc was singing, yes it's
Rude and Blank Space. I just can't get them out of my mind! I
mean… WHY YOU GOTTA BE SOOO RUUUDE~ It's soooooo
catchy!
Now that everyone knows that Chaos is a half-Potter… What do you

guys think? Isn't it ironic for him to come from a line that he loathes
with all of his might? I'm sure you all know who exactly the Potter
Heir is between James and Chaos. It's written in… chapter 10 if I
remember correctly.
Also… I received a fanart from The-Living-Shadow, featuring

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

The Iza. This story is about a Necromancer!Harry. Lots of humour
and I guarantee that anybody will be laughing soon after they start
reading. Harry is a… slightly unusual child that has an interest in
dead things - and his definition of cute is a little skewered. His idea
of him being the ruler of the whole world is amusing and I cannot
fathom how he mixed up the definition of minion with
boyfriend/girlfriends. It just cracks me up every time Draco mistook
their relationship for 'boyfriends'! Anyway, this is a LV/HP fic, though
it's rather slow in updating, it's worth the wait.
Rainbows and Mistletoes,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 17
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 17: Realizations and Expectations
Date: 16 May 1967
Location: Malfoy Manor, Hallway
The dreadful feeling in his gut intensified when they entered

Voldemort's private study - does the Dark Lord have his own
personal office at every of his follower's manor? In order for him to
calm down, he distracted himself by taking in his surroundings whilst
mentally noting all the possible exits. The relaxed atmosphere in this
rectangular room was something Marcaunon had not expected. The
long forest green walls and comfortable cushioned armchairs near
the warmly lit fireplace made Marcaunon's anxiety almost dissipate.
Almost.
Voldemort gestured for him to take a seat on the pristine white

armchair near the fireplace whilst the Dark Lord himself seated
directly on the opposite of him. Marcaunon was confused. Shouldn't
Voldemort be seating behind his mahogany office desk like any other
employers that would interview their potential employees?
The man took out a few pieces of parchment and crossed his right
leg over the other as he began reading. Marcaunon only blinked
owlish and followed his cousin's lead by crossing his legs as well - it
was his naturally relaxed posture rather than a defensive one. His
cousin then placed the parchments on the classic round side table
on his right before he lightly tapped it twice. Two ceramic teacups
appeared on the rectangular glass table in front of them, both filled
with what he assumed to be green tea.
"Would you like some tea?" Voldemort started with a light tone.
Marcaunon didn't let down his guard and remained vigilant on the
inside. Making idle conversations were one of the many ways of
ensuring an approachable and companionable disposition.
"I appreciate the offer, but no thank you." Wasn't the host supposed
to ask first before serving? Perhaps Voldemort just forgot. He
mentally shook his head and pushed it out of his mind - he wouldn't
be able to drink it with his mouth covered anyway.
"Pity. Slendy makes the most aromatic of teas." Marcaunon only

remained silent. "Tell me, Mr. Rose, why did you choose to be a
Potions' Master?"
"Money." A money faced arrogant person would turn anybody off.

Nobody would want to hire someone that could be bought by their
rivals - he was a potential back stabber in the making.
"Is that so…" Voldemort only cocked his head to the side. "Why not
become an information broker then?"
Marcaunon only stared at Voldemort stupidly. It was true that

information brokers would receive a hefty sum if they provided
information that could be used as potential blackmail material,
however what does that have to do with anything?
"Why so confuse, Mr. Rose? I'm sure you'll make a great information
broker… You did call me Mr. Gaunt after all." Voldemort's eyes
narrowed when Marcaunon subconsciously crossed his arms over
his stomach. "Not many know that I descended from the Gaunts - I
can count them all with one hand actually… And let me tell you that
none would dare to betray me."
… Did he really call Voldemort a Gaunt? He thought back to the

meeting fifteen days ago.
" Pardon me for asking, but have we met before, Mr. Rose?"
Voldemort whispered softly to him whilst the others were still busy
with reading their parchment, those narrowed crimson eyes taking in
every detail of his reactions.
" I'm sure I would've remembered someone as charismatic as you,

Mr. Gaunt, if we were to have met before."
Voldemort only continued to gaze at him attentively.
He swallowed inaudibly and mentally hit himself on the head. How

could he have made such an elementary mistake? He was so busy
with thinking about Voldemort being his cousin (and about Chaos) at
that point of time, that he naturally referred Voldemort as Mr. Gaunt.
He at least soothed his fraying nerves that he had not called Voldy
Cousin . That would be most unsettling for the both of them.
"That was a mistake on my part. You look alike to my client -"
Marcaunon bit his lower lip in horror. Why was he acting so out of
character!? He was supposed to be anti-social and tight lipped!
Damn Voldemort for throwing him off his rhythm.
"Oh? Are you saying that a client of yours is pretending to be me

or… I have to review on being the last of my family." The way
Voldemort said it made Marcaunon's arms tightened before he
forced them to rest on his lap. Calm down Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt.
He took a deep breath in and stared into Voldemort's crimson eyes
with indifference.
"Client confidentiality, Mr. Voldemort."
"I will pay you a considerable sum if you provide me with details of
your client, Mr. Rose."
He was in a pickle now.
"How much will you be offering?" Curse himself for creating such a
backstabbing, money-faced traitorous persona!
"Depends on what you are able to provide." And curse Voldemort for
being such a slimy snake, as Harry's ex-best friend so eloquently put
it.
"Name."
"You only know your client's name? I rather doubt that, Mr. Rose."
Voldemort's crimson eyes darkened, as if daring Marcaunon to lie.
"Age… and appearance."
"What about Mr. Gaunt's occupation?"
"He did not say." It was true that Marcaunon Gaunt was very
secretive about his occupation. He had intercepted and altered any
mail that his students had sent to home if his name was included in
the contents. Also, he placed spells on the students so that he will be
at the back of their minds unless they spotted him in the crowd or
they were back in school. Never say that he was not careful.
"Very well then. I only desire his name and age."
"What about his appearance?"
"I will assume that his appearance is similar to that of mine - since
you've mistaken us so."
Marcaunon refrained from clicking his tongue in annoyance. Since

he was giving out Marcaunon's basic information, he thought he
could get more dough from Voldemort with the appearance part.
Voldemort seemed to have noticed his irritation, and only raised an
amused brow at him.
"Alright. That would be 100 galleons." A little expensive, but hey…

Voldemort was bloody rich. "Each."
Voldemort only took out a pouch from his pockets and tossed it to
him. Marcaunon caught it and started counting instantly. He would've
blushed at his awful mannerism if he were currently Marcaunon and
not Ignatius - Chaos would undoubtedly stare at him with
unconcealed horror at Ignatius's lack of courtesy. When he
confirmed that there were really two hundred galleons inside, he
raised his head and looked away when Voldemort only gazed at him
with mirth in those crimson orbs of his.
"Marcaunon Gaunt. 23 this year."
"Thank you, Mr. Rose." Voldemort gave him an empty smile, which
would have undoubtedly charmed anybody if it were not him, and
levitated his respective cup forward before taking a tentative sip.
"The reason why I asked for you to follow me is not only due to the
slip of your tongue, but because I want to hire you."
Why!? Why would Voldemort want to hire such a traitorous person

such a he!? Wasn't Voldemort someone who hated traitors with a
passion - Snape was a prime example. He did not fancy being bitten
to death by Nagini.
"May I ask why, Mr. Voldemort?"
"Voldemort, if you would." The man smirked for a split second before
that expression was replaced by one of contemplation. "Is there any
reason why you would not want to be hired?"
"Not at all… Voldemort."
"Then there is no reason to ask." Voldemort's smile broadened. "Is

there?"
"No…" His cousin nodded sharply at his reply.
"Expect my letter in two weeks' time, Mr. Rose. You are dismissed."
He stood up from him seat and bowed reluctantly, careful not to

jostle Suki too much, before leaving the man's study. He would need
to be prepared by then - the marking will undoubtedly be in a week's
time.
"Professor!" Marcaunon turned around when as heard a female

voice, and halted in his steps when he spotted Vevila brisk walking
towards him in high heels. The lady was sometimes a headache to
deal with - especially when he was already (mentally) exhausted.
"Vevila." He greeted just as she reached him, a smile already

plastered onto his youthful features. "I apologize for burdening you
with my workload during the past two weeks."
"I'll forgive you if you take me out to dinner." She leaned forward and
hugged his right arm.
"Forgive me. My schedule for this week is already filled. How about
the next?" He smiled apologetically to Vevila as he replied.
"You promise?" Her lower lip jutted out as she blinked rapidly - as if
dust had gotten into her eyes.
"I promise."
"Just the two of us?"
"Do you not want to dine with Chaos as well?" Marcaunon gave her
a perplexed expression.
"It's not that, Professor…" Her index finger trailed down his clothed
chest as she stared into his eyes. "But I would like some… dessert
as well."
Oh! So Vevila knew that Chaos loathe sweet things. How

considerate… for a Malfoy that is. His lips curved upwards and he
cocked his head to the side lazily. It seems that he had misjudged
her.
"Of course, my Lady." He grabbed the slender hand that was resting
on his chest and brought it to his lips, his eyes never once wavering
from her grey orbs. He pressed a light kiss to the back of her hand
before he guided her forward with one hand resting on the small of
her back. She only giggled, her cheeks having a slight reddish tint.
"Were there any difficulties whilst I was away?"
"Not at all… however I am concern about Ms. Black."
"Which Ms. Black are you referring to?"
"The eldest - Bellatrix, Marc." He blinked. Did he give express

permission for her to call him by his name? If so, he must've been
too busy with paperwork and just nodded idly when she had asked.
"What ails you, Vevila? She appears docile enough in my classes."
"She…" Vevila hesitated slightly before she looked at him with wide
teary eyes. He sincerely hoped that she would not cry - she would
look like a panda with smudged eyeliner and mascara otherwise. Not
something he would like any of his students to see - a Professor has
to have a good image for their students… disregarding Dumbledore
of course. "She's extremely hostile towards all the female
Professors, including myself."
Marcaunon hummed in thought at that. His treatment on her was

flawless, so he doubted that there would be any abnormalities in her
personality due to him tinkering with her brain. Perhaps in this
alternate world, Bellatrix becomes a woman hater?
"What about the male staffs?"
"They are treated fairly except for…" She suddenly paused in her
tracks and stepped in front of him, her hands resting on his clothed
chest as she leaned forward. "Before I forget, Professor Noegg
McMuffin has submitted his letter of resignation."
"Hmm… It's not really a surprise. The DADA position is cursed after
all. Will Albus be finding a new one or will the other Professors be
taking turns?"
"Neither."
"Oh? Did Albus already find a replacement?"
"Headmaster Dumbledore informed that I take over your classes for

this year, whilst you take over DADA."
"What?" His left eyebrow twitched in annoyance.
That damn old goat - give him an inch and he would take a mile.
Marcaunon may be qualified to teach all the subjects Hogwarts
provided, however he had already (firmly) stated that he preferred
Potions, and that he would only become a temporary Professor for
DADA for the whole year if the position remained empty for at least
three months . It had only been fifteen days, and he could only
assume that that old bastard became lazy and just handed him the
load.
"I'll go have a friendly conversation with Albus." He gently pushed
her away from his person and took a step back. "Thank you for
informing me Vevila. I shall see you at dinner."
Marchosias's sour mood only worsened when turned the corner and
spotted Vevila Malfoy standing directly in front of his mother, their
breaths almost mingling as they converse. He quickly hid behind a
bronze statue of a bald man and peeked at them. The woman's
pupils were dilated and he could only sneer in disgust when her
breasts intentionally came into contact with Marcaunon's clothed
chest - she was obviously excited and turned on, and if it were not
for her underclothes, her hardened nipples would be proudly on
display.
He resisted the urge to maim the bint this very instant and took a
deep breath to calm himself. His mother was finally back home, so
he should be smiling, not frowning - sometimes Marcaunon could
misunderstand the smallest of things.
Just as he was about to move closer to them, Marcaunon turned on

his heels and strode towards the direction of the hidden stairway that
leads directly to Albus's office. He only blinked and assumed that his
mother had been notified of the change - Marcaunon was definitely
not happy, judging by the killer glare he was producing. He only
hugged the tome that he was clutching to his chest tighter when his
mother bypassed his hiding spot.
"Tempus." He murmured under his breath. The numbers 1640

appeared in front of him and he waved them off after a second. What
should he do whilst he wait for dinner? It was boring the whole time
without Marcaunon - he didn't mind Mort's company (he wasn't
forced into any cutesy animal onesies), but it just wasn't the same.
"Oh if it isn't wittle baby Chaos." He twitched and turned to see Bella
skipping cheerfully towards him. "Say hello to your future mummy~"
He scrunched his nose in distaste. Why did Bella have to be
obsessed over his mother? He would never approve of anyone
courting Marcaunon (apart from Mort) and he would never call
Bellatrix ' mummy' of all things - deranged woman fit better.
"Bellatrix." He greeted with boredom and slight annoyance, as if she

was a mere fly buzzing around him. "What an unpleasant surprise to
see your repulsive face when dinner is but an hour away."
"What are you doing here, future son of mine?" Bellatrix ignored his
insults as if it was a daily occurrence (which it was) and cooed as
she stopped just in front of him and crouched down so that they were
at eye level. "Is itty bitty wittle Chaos having a bad day?"
Indeed he was having a bad day, and he has no desire to make is

worse. He turned on his heels after a brief glare, and strode away
from the mad teenage girl, blocking out his future minion's annoying
voice. Bellatrix on the other hand, puffed out her cheeks in a pouty
manner at being ignored, before her eyes shined brightly as an idea
formed inside her brain. She suddenly scooped Marchosias, who
gave a manly squeak of surprise, and situated him on her right hip.
"What in the name of Merlin's saggy balls are you doing, Bellatrix!?"
He struggled in her hold as he tried to escape without the aid of
Magic - normal seven year olds were like Muggle children, helpless
without their sometimes accidental Magic outburst.
"Such words! No future son of mine should be so crude." She rubbed

her cheeks against his, much to his utmost disgust. "I'll punish you
by… this!" She started to tickle him, and Marchosias cursed his
young body. He took no notice that his tome had dropped to the
ground as he giggled and laughed uncontrollably.
"S-top… ahaha… it yo… gah… you imbecile! Kyahahahaha!"
This torture continued on until a few moments later, until Bellatrix

finally stopped. He panted in exertion, and he could feel his cheeks
heating up as well as tears welling inside his eyes - much to his
mortification. He started to hiccup and sob before he let out a wail
that could shatter eardrums on magnitude levels. Bellatrix's
expression of panic could be seen through his blurry eyes and he
took in a small portion of pleasure at her discomfort - though he still
could not control his bloody body!
"A-ah… Chaos sweetie… Don't be like that. Bella Bella was only
playing around. Who's the most cutest and bravest of them all?~ You
are~" She cooed and rocked him gently in her arms, but he only
continued to wail louder.
Stupid childish body. Stop crying like a baby for Morgana's sake,
Marchosias Mort Gaunt! It's bloody disgraceful!
He suddenly felt himself being snatched from the teenager's hold

and into another female's - he could feel the person's breast on his
cheek, so it was definitely female.
"Ms. Black! Why are you bullying Professor Gaunt's son?" He

recognized the voice of Minerva and clutched her robe tightly. Might
as well take advantage of this situation and appear as frightened as
he could be.
"It wasn't on purpose, Professor McGonagall! I was only tickling

him!" She waved her hands around in panic, before she realized that
that was an unsuitable behavior for a Black heiress. She quickly
blanked her face. "What I meant to say is that, Marchosias looked
lonely without Professor Gaunt so I thought that I could cheer him up
by tickling him."
"And the results are rather counterproductive don't you think so, Ms.
Black?" Minerva's strict voice suddenly changed into that of a
comforting mother as she rubbed Marchosias's back. "There there.
I'm sure your father would not like to see you in this state once he
has returned." She wiped his tear stained cheeks with a
handkerchief and smiled gently at him.
He nodded with a sniff whilst mentally swearing to himself that he
would not burst out crying in the future. He would need to train this
new body of his so that he could have a higher threshold to anything
that was done to his person, especially torture.
"Detention, Ms. Black."
"What!?" Bella screeched in disbelief. "But I didn't do anything

wrong, Professor! I was only trying to help."
"And for your intentions, I will give Slytherin a point. However the
way you handled it… You will be having two weeks of detention with
Professor Gaunt."
Bella's face remained stoic, but Marchosias saw her true expression
- happiness and excitement. He had trained himself in the art of
detecting micro expressions since he was but a young adult. Bella
would have to constantly put her guard up for at least another three
months - bones will definitely be found in her pumpkin juice.
All the thoughts of revenged suddenly was replaced by that of an

uneasy feeling - like a bucket of ice cold water being dumped on his
person. The reality of him being Marchosias Gaunt and not Lord
Voldemort became more factual than before.
" I am Marchosias Gaunt. Not Voldemort. Only a child with the

memories of my past life. I am but a weak, helpless, and
insecure child." He whispered weakly under his breath, with newly
formed tears that he would later deny trailing down his already tear
stained cheeks. This reality really hit him hard. And it hurts.
He exited Dumbledore's office with a tired sigh, extremely exhausted

after his rather one sided lecture. He had not noticed that the old
coot had fallen asleep halfway, which resulted in making him rant all
the more after he had zapped the Headmaster awake. The overall
outcome turned out to be a useless waste of time - he was still the
temporary DADA Professor for the rest of this year.
Marcaunon halted in his steps when he noticed an opened window
near him, and stared out of it, registering how late it already was.
Dinner was definitely missed. He grumbled about missing dessert to
himself before he yawned halfway, exhausted both mentally and
physically. Seeing that he could not muster the energy and effort to
continue his way down the dungeons by foot, he let loose his Magic
to scan his surroundings before deeming it safe, and tore open the
air in front of him, creating an inky black portal. He stepped into the
entrance of Death's realm, and exited into his private study with just
a few long strides. He normally would have avoided doing such a
thing when in Hogwarts, however he just wanted to sleep his fatigue
away.
He was then suddenly flocked by butterflies, and his lips tilted

upwards into the slightest of smiles as some landed on his person,
whilst others hovered around him merrily. They were always
affectionate after being separated from him for a long period of time.
"I'm back, my lovely sinners." The butterflies made some sort of

noise as if to welcome him back, and he chuckled as they trailed
after him like ducklings when he glided out of his study.
He scanned the living area for any sign of life, before he entered his
bedchamber when he did not spot either Chaos or the two serpents.
He brought forth a floating candle and shifted closer towards the
bed. The adorable slumbering face of Chaos made him almost reach
out to pinch those chubby cheeks, before he waved the candle away
in case his son woke up due to the bright flicker of light.
He transfigured his clothing into silky pajamas and stealthily crawled

under the covers, careful not to jostle the occupants of the bed - the
two serpents were curled together at the foot of their king size bed -
and he spooned Chaos to his chest, his personal warm teddy bear.
His son made no indication that he was awake, and he wondered if
Chaos was just as exhausted as he was. Marcaunon only buried his
nose into Chaos's crown of hair and closed his eyes to sleep. He
would prepare for the branding the next day… after he finished his
MoD paperwork that is - much more important.
Date: 30 May 1967
Location: Cauldron Fever guild tavern
He stood near a dimly lit corner of his guild's active tavern, clutching
his left forearm tightly as he scanned the bar for any faces that he
would recognized from the previous meeting. Voldemort had owled
him the previous day. He was supposedly to meet another Potions'
Master that was hired alongside with him, before they head to their
Guild Master's office for a portkey Voldemort had sent to his Guild
Master.
He walked over to the large bulletin board near the bar and stood
only a few steps away, reading the pinned parchments and articles in
boredom - there was nothing else he could do after all, and he was
slightly distracted in his worries due to Chaos's silence this past two
weeks. Drinking his worries and boredom away was definitely out of
the question. He would never go to a Death Eater meeting slash
branding when intoxicated, if he concluded Voldemort's letter for
today correctly.
Unbeknownst to him, a pair of rage filled dark eyes were glaring

holes into his oblivious pretty head whilst he was busy with staring at
the bulletin board unblinkingly.
"Uhm, Mr. Ignatius Rose sir?" He finally blinked when his name was
called, and turned to the speaker with an annoyed look.
He cocked his head to the side when he recognized the man to be

Felix Weasley, a fellow Potions' Master. Weasley still looked the
same, with a gentle smile and happy wrinkles on his features. He
was like any other Weasley boys, with ginger hair, freckles, and blue
eyes. He wore the usual plain black long sleeved wizarding robes,
with his wand holster strapped around his waist, and a worn out old
leather pouch tied on the opposite side of the wand. Marcaunon's
eyes trailed down the broad shouldered yet lanky body until he
reached the man's Potions' protection leather boots - many wore that
so that their feet would remain safe even if there was spillage.
"Weasley." He drawled as he gazed coolly at the redhead, like the

man was nothing but dirt underneath his calf high, white stilettos
basiliskhide boots - he was taller that way… not that he was short to
begin with!
The redhead rubbed the back of his neck nervously and fidgeted
when Marcaunon said no more. He bit back a sigh and crossed his
arms over his chest, head tilted upwards in an arrogant manner. He
was slightly annoyed at the fact that Weasley was still taller than him
even after he wore his highest heeled boots.
"So…" Weasley croaked, before he cleared his throat weakly. "You

were hired as well, Mr. Rose?"
He nodded. So Weasley was the one. It was kind of obvious if he

looked at the man's creation. A person who invented such a ruthless
and torturous potion, the Nightmare Potion, was someone Voldemort
would likely desire to have as one of his Potions' Masters. He was
unsure if Weasley had created anymore torture potions back in his
original world, but it was something to look out for - just in case
Weasley had had enough of Ignatius's arrogant bitchy attitude in the
future.
Weasley only continued to stand at his spot in silence, not knowing

what else to say. Marcaunon sighed through his nose and walked
ahead, intending to get the portkey from their Guild Master. He didn't
need to check behind him to see if Weasley was following, the
footsteps were enough to alert him.
Without bothering to knock, he slammed the door to his Guild

Master's office opened and raised a hand in greeting, with Weasley
apologizing profusely for Marcaunon's lack of common curtesy from
behind of him.
"… Still uncivil as ever, Ignatius. And you need not apologize for this
brat's mannerism, Weasley."
His Guild Master, Jellal Frost, appeared to be in his late 40s.

However everyone should not be fooled - the elder is supposedly 83
this year. He has short blue hair, and a fringe that joins in the center
of his face, similar to that of the alphabet 'M', with the tips just
brushing the middle of his nose bridge. His sharp brown sharp eyes
were usually used for intimidation purposes, giving out a cold feeling
to those who prolonged eye contact with him. He also has a red
tattoo at the right side of his face - above and below his eye. Jellal's
skin tone was not as pale as Marcaunon's, but it could be classified
as that shade - most Potions' Masters are pale due to little to no
exposure from the sun's rays. Jellal wore a simple yet elegant robe,
consisting of a long white tunic with black stripes across the edges, a
decorated collar with the Guild's insignia, large straps connected to
decorated buckles closing the inducement on the front over a dark
shirt, and matching pants and boots.
"Give us the portkey and we shall be on our way, old man." He

stretched out his left arm with his palm facing upwards.
"Don't call me old!" Jellal's lips curled into a contemptuous smile

before he threw an inkpot, aimed directly at Marcaunon's head.
He ducked without effort and made his way towards where Jellal was
seated behind his desk. They both ignored the loud THUNK that was
heard a second later, and a pained shout from Weasley.
"Hurry up. I don't have all day unlike a certain elderly with blue hair."
"I should've failed and kicked you out the second you stepped foot
into my guild headquarters." Jellal sighed regretfully. "Here." He
tossed a small round stone to Marcaunon, who caught it with his
lightning quick reflexes. "Should I cancel your name from the list?"
"Mhm." Marcaunon hummed lightly as he rolled the stone between

his fingers. "I doubt that I'll be available for a while - I suspect a long
term contract."
"Your regular clients would be most saddened."
"Like I care."
"Owl me once you're finished with this job."
"Don't expect it to be done anytime soon, Jellal." He turned to

Weasley and gestured for the redhead to get up. "Get your arse up,
Weasley. We're going."
Weasley hurriedly got off the floor, still rubbing his nose, and touched
the stone with a finger.
"We're ready. Activate it already."
"You really are a rude brat, Ignatius." Jellal sneered, but Marcaunon
could see fondness in those usual apathetic brown eyes. "Be careful.
Voldemort ." Just as the name was spoken, Marcaunon felt a tug in
his navel and the two disappeared from the office without a second
to spare.
Jallal stared at empty spot where the two men had previously stood
on, his lips curled downwards as he tried to control his emotions. He
sincerely prayed that Ignatius… no, Marcaunon would come back
safely. Voldemort was a very dangerous person. It was still fresh in
his mind - the way he had trembled like a child in the presence of
that crimson eyed young man.
They landed in an office Marcaunon recognized as Voldemort's study

at Malfoy Manor. Voldemort was seated on one of the three
armchairs near the fireplace, a wineglass in hand. Marcaunon
subconsciously roamed his eyes over the figure of the seated man -
elegant form fitted long sleeved crimson shirt underneath a black
vest, dark slim trousers, and polished leather shoes - and took in the
way Voldemort had uncrossed those long legs of his to stand up with
a charming smile plastered on an equally beautiful face.
He snapped out of his dazed and bowed slightly, with Weasley

imitating him, though more lower. He didn't wait for Voldemort's
permission to rise, and just strode towards one of the armchairs and
plopped down. He was already prepared for this encounter. He was
ready and would not screw up due to nervousness.
Weasley looked panicked, not knowing if he should be following

Marcaunon's example or wait for Voldemort's instruction.
"Please take a seat, Felix - may I call you that?" Voldemort himself
was already seated in his previous seat.
"Of course, sir!" Weasley nodded with a smile after he had seated
himself on the last armchair beside Marcaunon.
"And may I call you Ignatius, Mr. Rose?" Marcaunon shrugged

uncaringly. He would've normally stared at the other like they were
insects beneath him, but this was Voldemort, so he allowed it.
"Good. Before we begin however, would you both like something to
drink?"
"Ah.. Yes please." Weasley beamed.
"No." Marcaunon rested his masked right cheek on his fist, with his
elbow on the armrest.
A wineglass that was already filled with wine floated towards

Weasley, and the redhead plucked it out from the air with a quiet
thank you. He saw the redhead subtly dropped a few of some
unknown clear liquid into the glass before he took a tentative sip. He
took mental note that his future partner was careful, and if he wanted
to rid of the man, would need something undetectable.
Voldemort pulled out his bone white yew wand and flicked it. Two
parchments appear and floated down to their respective hands.
Marcaunon scanned the contents and hummed quietly in thought. It
was a contract. It basically stated that he would be in a probation
period for a month, and if his services are considered excellent in the
eyes of Voldemort, he will continue to work for the man until
termination or death. It also stated that he will be paid by
remuneration rather than monthly, and will provide his services when
called. Also, any form of betrayal will lead to death. At the end of the
contract, a space was provided for his signature… and there was a
microscopic sentence that said the employee will receive a mark by
Voldemort. He almost missed it due to the size.
"Uhm Voldemort sir?" Weasley's voice made Marcaunon look up

from his contract, to stare at the redhead with curious blue eyes.
"May I know what kind of services will we be providing?"
He was curious as well, but it didn't show. He only crossed his right
leg over the other, and twirled a lock of snowy white hair around his
right index finger. Weasley leaned slightly forward in interest.
"Brewing of requested potions," Voldemort started as he swirled the

wine in his glass. "and also creating potions that I desire - or have a
similar effect at the very least."
"An example of such for us to brew and create?"
"I need competent wizards to brew health related potions - my

supplied are limited after all. As for creation… Perhaps I would like
some kind of potion that is able to burn only the skin when poured
onto a person's body."
"Before I agree… I would like to know your goals… And why you
have a group of followers, Voldemort sir." Weasley was obviously
nervous when he asked that.
The question wasn't that of a surprise to Marcaunon (and

Voldemort). It was quite obvious that the men followed and served
Voldemort, rather than work for him - he highly doubted that Death
Eaters are paid for their services. He wondered why the two of them
were being paid though. It made no sense, but when did Voldemort
make sense anyway?
"It is quite simple actually." Voldemort smiled gently at Weasley. "My

only wish is to improve the Wizarding World - to help our community
grow."
Weasley only widened his eyes in surprise.
"I need you," Voldemort turned to Marcaunon. "the both of you, to

help me in achieving my dream. Light Magicals fill the majority of our
community. They condemn my kind, and ignore our bills because we
have a Dark Core - we are born with it, what can we do? I proposed
that we have an orphanage build for those Muggleborns that live in
abusive homes, but it was ignored because I am a Dark Wizard. I
fear that I would need to be practical for them to listen to my
reasoning. I am in need of your superior brewing skills to aid me in
my and my followers' goal."
Voldemort gave a rueful smile to the both of them, a smile that could
melt even the coldest of hearts, and extended his right arm towards
them.
"Will you join me in my pursuit for change… Felix Weasley, Ignaitus

Rose?"
A/N: There's a link to my FB (Facebook) group on my profile.

Join if you feel like it~ Happy (belated) New Year guys! We all
survived 2014, insert wink here.
Er so… Some of you are confused as to why my previous chapter,

the Christmas Special, has a huge gap in between the years. I'll
explain it here since there were too many reviews from Guests. The
previous chapter was something like an extra or omake. It's like a
preview into the future. Not a real chapter but something similar to a
sneakpeak. That's why I put it as 'Special'. Hope this clear things up
- and I highly advice that you read my A/Ns. I don't mind if you skip
my ranting, but I do write important bits for the first paragraph.
On to the reviews!
To answer one of the Guests' questions, my inspiration for Death

wasn't actually from Sebastian or anywhere else. I just thought that
Death would be playful yet mature at the same time since he has
lived for a very long time. The more I write him, the more confused I
get by his character sometimes - my fingers just typed on without me
actually thinking. He's kind of like an unpredictable sort of character
with an obsession with Marc.
As for cascioli's questions… Chaos gave Voldemort a pair of

Slytherin crest cufflinks at the previous chapter. I apologize if it was
unclear. The reason why Marcaunon's Yess has two S, is because of
parseltongue. He spoke it back in his original world for far too long,
so parseltongue is considered his main accent.
For those of you who have noticed about Marc calling Voldemort as
Mr. Gaunt… Congratulations! I award you with a certificate for good
observation skills. I thank you all for giving me such splendid
reviews, and I hope that you will all continue to do so in my future
chapters!
Story recommendation for today: Meant To Be by phoenixmaiden13.

Whilst trying to escape from his captives, Harry ran into a bedroom
that could be opened by only Parseltongue. Voldie and Harry had a
brief duel alone and before long, they were snogging each other silly
due to the Horcrux Bond (not that they know of course). That one
night of lustful love making leads to Harry ending up pregnant.
TMR/HP pairing, AU, M-preg.
Rainbows and New Years,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 18
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 18: Dark Mark and Confession
Date: 30 May 1967
Location: Malfoy Manor, hallway
Voldemort smiled dementedly to himself as he walked ahead of his

two newly acquired Potions' Masters - he was powerful enough to
show his back without worry. Convincing Weasley to sign the
contract and to take his mark was as easy as stepping on a
flobberworm. Ignatius Rose however… His smile vanished. The
enigma only went with the flow, not even asking a single question in
relation to Voldemort or his contract. It was difficult to figure out what
the albino was thinking - with the mask hiding the young man's
expression, and his body language giving nothing away.
The thoughts concerning Ignatius were then pushed to the back of

his mind as they reached the double doors that led to the assembly
room, sans chairs. His Knights were already inside waiting for them,
with a few extras.
He turned to the two behind him and gave a reassuring smile - he

had told them beforehand that there would be an audience when
they take his mark, and that it would be a little painful. Weasley only
stared back with determination in those baby blue eyes of his, whilst
Ignatius ignored him in favor of twirling a snowy lock of hair around
his index finger. He wanted to cut said finger off, but refrained in
actually doing so. Fingers and hands are the life of Potions' Masters
everywhere.
"Are you ready, gentlemen?" It was only polite to ask.
"Yes, sir!" he would need to push them into calling him 'Lord' soon.
"Yess sir…" Ignatius dragged the S like how Voldemort would when
he lost his temper. He only continued to smile, as if he took no notice
of the albino's strangely familiar accent. He knew another person
who spoke similar to Ignatius, but he could not recall exactly who
said person was - it felt as if the answer was just there, with him
unable to grasp it no matter how hard he tried.
"Excellent." With that, he pulled out a black robe from one of his
hidden pockets, and donned it.
He turned back to the double doors and pushed. There was a slight
creak when the doors parted, and he took note to inform Abraxas
afterwards. It was unbecoming to have creaky doors. He strode
forward, his eyes solely focused on his throne even as his followers
dropped on one knee with a bow as he walked past them. He
gestured for his two Potions' Masters to stand behind another group
of newly recruits, and continued onwards until he sat comfortably on
his throne.
He crossed his right leg over his left and smirked at the sight before
him. It felt wonderful to have all these powerful men and women with
varies of talents on their knees, respecting (and fearing) him as if he
were a monarch. He took out his beloved yew wand and twirled it
around his fingers - a habit of his that he could not rid of no matter
how hard he tried.
"Welcome my friends… I thank you all for coming." His expression

relaxed into one of tranquil. "Rise - and be at ease ."
His followers all stood in attention with their hands firmly clasps
behind their backs - like how he had trained them to when in his
presence. What perfectly obedient soldiers he has in his disposal.
They all looked at him with different levels of awe and admiration,
and this made his blood sing exuberantly.
"I have called you all here to welcome yet another batch of recruits
that have joined our cause. It is commendable for they have chosen
to be here with us - to put a stop against the discrimination we Dark
Wizards and Witches have to put up with on a daily basis. We will
not allow our Magical counterparts to continue with their arrogance in
throwing the old ways any further." He paused for effect. He needed
his followers and soon to be followers to be drawn in by his
speeches - to be enamored with him.
"We will revitalize, and fortify the old ways. In addition, we will not be
leaving a single Muggleborn to be contaminated further by Muggle
upbringing - Wizarding children should never be left in the Muggle
world, especially orphans." He stood up and spread his arms. "We
shall not allow any of our kind of be influence by that world any
longer. We will put a stop to their Muggle traditions and religions that
they needlessly bring into our world."
His followers all nodded to one another, all looking pleased and
satisfied. He would always customize his speeches before every
new marking commences. It was to prevent his veteran followers
from growing bored of hearing the same old talk over and over
again. They would only continue to grow captivated by him, and from
their faces that would lit up every time he welcomed yet another
batch, it worked like a charm. He smiled lightly and raised his left
hand to gain their attention - which he did. They all quieted down like
well-behaved dogs. He had indeed trained them well.
"Soon… We will fight for our cause - our rights. We Dark Wizards
and Witches will overcome and reclaim our position in this world. We
will then educate our counterparts that Muggles are the main cause
of Gaia's slow, but steady deterioration. We cannot co-exist with
them, only rid them and their destructive nature. That time will soon
arrive - but for now… We shall welcome our new brothers in arms."
His eyes roamed over all of the people in this room. They cheered in
uncontrollable excitement as they murmured to one another eagerly.
He would've liked to pretend that it was everyone… but he could not.
Ignatius Rose was the only person who looked indifferent - as if he
had expected Voldemort's speech. He was irritated, as well as
pleased. Ignatius has the potential to be his second in command - a
person who would not be his yes -man. A person that would always
disagree with him. A person that could debate ideas with him. A
person that he could rely on without fail.
Yes… He wanted Ignatius by his side, and perhaps under him as

well. Preferably in bed.
"I offered you five a chance to join us. To aid us in our cause for
equality and a world where only Magicals will prevail."
He returned to his seat and smirked at the awed faces of his new
recruits.
"Let us begin. Corn Yellow."

One of the men he recruited made his way forward, and stopped just
before Voldemort. Yellow was recruited because of his ties with
many of the Light Magicals that worked at the Ministry. He would be
sent to infiltrate the Light side after being trained.
"I pledge my loyalty to you and only you, my Lord, my Master."

Yellow was on his knees and bent down before he kissed the hems
of Voldemort's robes.
He took great pleasure in seeing such a degrading sight - not that

any his followers think it to be such. No, they would love nothing
more than to touch any part of him. Even kissing the hem of his
robes would be considered a blessing. They wanted to be near him -
many with the intention of being his consort.
Yellow then bared his left forearm for him. Voldemort didn't make a
move to grasp the appendage, only leaning slightly forward to press
the tip of his beloved yew wand to Yellow's forearm. He idly
wondered where Nagini was.
" Morsmordre." He hissed quietly and concentrated with injecting

his Magic into Yellow's whole left arm, nerves, and core. It only took
a few seconds. Practice definitely made it easier.
As soon as his mark was tattooed into the man's forearm, Yellow all
but screamed in unbearable pain. Just as he pulled his wand away,
Yellow cradled his arm to his chest, whimpering and weeping as he
tried to stand on shaky legs. Voldemort was disgusted by the man's
weak tolerance to pain. Perhaps he should schedule a training
program for endurance in case his followers were tortured for
information? A less likely chance of Light Magicals actually doing so,
but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared.
He presented Yellow a bronze mask, before he waved for one of his

inner circle members to guide the man to where the bronze masks
were situated at - the back.
The bronze masks were considered newly recruited Knights, and
only those who have proven themselves to him would gain their own
individual masks, whilst moving up a rank. There were four ranks in
total inside his military . The new recruits were given plain bronze
masks, whilst individual silver masks represented their upgrade from
the title of ' newbie' . The ones that wore half silver and half golden
masks were his outer circle, and lastly his inner circle wore golden
masks.
Their positions for each gathering would be - golden masks at the

first row due to their limited numbers, followed by the half silver and
golden masks, then silver masks, and lastly bronze masks. This was
a system created so that they would continue to try and improve
themselves - and to be closer to him. For his inner circle members,
they would have to further their skills if they do not wish to be
demoted.
For him to know whether a person is capable of being promoted or

demoted, a tournament would be held every six months to test each
individual. If a person were to be defeated in a duel, their rank would
be switched with the one who had defeated them. This would keep
those in a higher position on their toes, and not slack off.
He mentally shook his head and continued with the marking once
Yellow was dragged away from him.
"Flint Beastwood." He had recruited Beastwood due to the man's

dueling skills - especially in long range duels.
Beastwood stepped forward confidently and bent down to kiss the

hem of his robes, before baring his left forearm for Voldemort. He
pressed the tip of his wand to the man's forearm and did the same
as previously. Beastwood soon let out a high pitched scream - and it
almost made Voldemort howl in laughter at how girly the buffed large
man sounded like. Almost. It wouldn't do well for his reputation.
He waved for the same inner circle member to drag Beastwood

away after handing the beast of a man a bronze mask.
"Ezalor Light." This old man was recruited due to his talent in spell
creation. Light's most infamous creation was his charge-up Magic -
though only those with above average cores were able to use it. It
has a few weaknesses of course. One of them was that he was
required to stand rigidly for a few long seconds whilst he charged his
Magic, and that few seconds could prove to be fatal.
The old man did what was required of him, and soon was screaming
like the previous two. He grew bored and wished that this was
Dumbledore that was screaming. Oh how he dreamt of crucio-ing
that old fart into oblivion. How dare he be rejected even when he
was clearly more than qualified for the DADA position.
Once Light was dragged away after given a bronze mask, he cocked
his head at the other two.
"Felix Weasley." One of his beloved Potions' Masters - Madam

Malfoy would be out of his hair after this. Weasley would definitely
provide him with many more torture potions. The man's Nightmare
Potion was genius. Pure genius.
Weasley was shaking a little at witnessing grown men screaming in

pain, but he looked determined enough. Voldemort bit back a smirk
that threatened to appear on his lips, and smiled reassuringly at the
redhead.
"I pledge my loyalty and my potions' making skill to you… My Lord."

Voldemort grinned dementedly when Weasley's head was bowed,
before wiping his face of any emotions.
He pressed the tip of his wand on Weasley's forearm, his mark soon
appearing on the otherwise unblemished skin. There was no scream
for a few seconds, and Voldemort thought that the redhead before
him was used to pain. He was wrong, of course. Weasley howled in
pain as he grasped his forearm tightly, trying and failing to endure
what he was feeling.
Voldemort handed the trembling redhead a bronze mask, already
knowing that it will only take a few weeks before he would be moved
up a rank. He waved for the same golden mask to drag the Weasley
away and turned to look at his final soon to be follower for this batch.
Ignatius Rose only tilted his head to the side as he gazed

indifferently into Voldemort's crimson eyes - there was no
anticipation or fear. Those scarlet orbs were eerily familiar though.
Like the ones he had seen in his dream, the one he could not forget
no matter how hard he tried.
He remembered 'waking up' drenched under a downpour of acidic

rain. He remembered the ground he had walked on, how devoid of
life it had felt - as if Mother Earth had lost all hope. He remembered
how ugly the sky had looked like - blue was the only color he wished
to see when he titled his head upwards, not green and black. It was
a disgusting sight and he had wanted out of the lucid dream
immediately. He could only continue walking forward, trying to find
an exit, before he came across a person on the ground, their face
buried into their knees, and hugging themselves in what he knew to
be desperation.
He had paused to stare as the person, a male, sobbed and trembled.

When he had heard the young male crying for help, his body had
reacted on its own and he had instinctively casted a warming charm
so that the person in front of him would stop trembling. When the
male did, he looked up weakly with dead scarlet eyes, and
Voldemort could only narrow his in suspicion when he saw those
features.
The man in his dream had his appearance. His first thought was that
his mind had created such a dream because he was feeling
stressed, but when he closed his eyes, he recalled the person's
features and noted how feminine it was, similar yet vastly different
from his sharper ones. The person's face was softer than his, and
because of the listless and hopeless expression, it made him appear
smaller and frailer than he originally was. It grabbed on Voldemort's
heart strings and he had this urge to protect that person from harm.
He had never felt that way before, and it had frightened him to an
extent.
Ignatius's eyes reminded him of that person, and with the information
he was provided with, could only come up with one logical answer.
The male from his dream was Marcaunon Gaunt. His could be
cousin. His cousin that was alone and on the verge of losing his
sanity. Marcaunon must have had unintentionally used his Magic to
call for Voldemort - Salazar Slytherin had made it so that family
members could contact the Lord of their House in dire situations.
He needed to find where his cousin was, and Ignatius was the key.
He just knew it.
"Ignatius Rose." The name felt odd on his tongue. The reason was
unknown to him, but it felt as if there was another name to this
person. He trusted his instincts and made a mental note to
investigate Ignatius's background.
Ignatius practically glided forward with elegance that many would

envy for, and dropped to his left knee with his right hand across his
chest.
"I, Ignatius Rose, pledge my loyalty to you, my Lord ."
Voldemort could see that Ignatius was far too proud to kiss the hem
of his robes, so he improvised - the albino was special in a way. He
stretched out his right hand and as if knowing what he was thinking,
Ignatius's slender pale hands grabbed onto it.
Ignatius leaned forward and closed those scarlet eyes of his, before
kissing the dorsum of Voldemort's hand. He could only stare at the
crown of the young man's snowy white locks as Ignatius then
brought his forehead and leaned it onto Voldemort's knuckles, before
opening his eyes and looking up and directly into Voldemort's.
The sight before him made some of his blood rush south, much to
his indignation. He pulled his hand away slowly, and brushed his
knuckles against Ignatius's clothed cheek whilst doing so. He
narrowed his eyes. That mask has to go soon - he wanted to see
what Ignatius looked like underneath it, and to touch the surface of
the albino's skin.
Voldemort saw his followers looking at him with stunned silence, not
at all expected such a display. He didn't blame them. He would've
been stunned as well if he had not prepared for such a thing to
happen. This was scenario number eight by the way.
Ignatius acquiesced in baring his left forearm and Voldemort pressed

the tip of his wand onto the scarred pale skin. He was curious as to
how the albino had such scars - they were deep and covered almost
every surface of his arm, as if it had once been wrapped by a barb
wire for a long period of time without being removed.
" Morsmordre." He hissed and watched fascinatedly as his mark

appeared on the scarred flesh. Ignatius was silent, and his muscles
had not even tensed up as Voldemort's Magic invaded his body and
core.
What a curious sight to behold. His Potions' Master was used to

such pain and not even his Dark Mark, that was worse than any
crucio, could make the young man scream. Voldemort's licked his
upper lip. He suddenly wanted, no, needed this man on his bed,
screaming his name like no other, whilst begging for release.
He gave a bronze mask to the albino.
"I welcome you into the Knights of Walpurgis, Ignatius Rose." He

purred silkily.
Oh yes, he will be having Ignatius tied to his bed one day. The
thoughts on his maybe-cousin were temporary pushed to the back of
his mind as his crimson eyes roamed the lithe body before him.
Definitely someone he wanted to fuck brutally.
Date: 30 May 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Marcaunon's Study
He landed on his feet and hissed in pain when he accidently bumped

his left forearm against the shelves. The sensation made him close
his eyes tightly in discomfort. It had been a long time since he had
felt such a strong feeling of agony. Even when his limbs were cut
slowly with a rusted bone saw did he not blink, but getting the Dark
Mark? Painful as hell. It was like the first time he had his arm cut off!
Maybe it was because he was unaccustomed to his Magical Core
practically being raped?
"Mother?" Chaos's voice made him open his eyes. He tilted his head
upwards - when had he kneeled? - and saw the look of pure concern
on his little boy's face.
"Where are Suki and Mana?"
"Forget about them. What's wrong? What happened? Did Jellal hurt
you? Or was it your new employer?"
As if Jellal (all of people) could lay a hand on him without

consequences! And he had forgotten that he has yet to mention that
Voldemort was his new employer.
"Nothi-"
"I forbid you say that nothing has happened, mother!" Chaos glared
as he strode towards Marcaunon. "Let me see."
He shook his head. He could not allow Chaos to see the mark or his
scarred body - it was ugly and he didn't want to appear more of a
freak in his son's eyes. Marchosias rubbed the bridge of his nose in
exasperation at Marcaunon's stubborn nature.
"You're in Hogwarts, mother. At least rid yourself of that disguise.

What if that bitc-… Vevila sees you?"
"I'm alright." He murmured and made to stand up, but Chaos firmly
pushed him onto the ground so that he was lying on his back, his
stomach used as a seat for his son. "Marchos- don't!"
His right arm shot up to cover his face when Marchosias had
removed his mask. He wanted to push his son away, but he was
feeling weak and uncomfortable - he needed to get Voldemort's
Magic out of his system, and fast. He had a feeling that this would
turn ugly.
"… Mum?" Marchosias's voice was weak, and it made Marcaunon

pause in his thoughts. "W… why is your neck…" He felt cold chubby
fingers on his neck and he closed his eyes in defeat. He knew how
disgusting his unglamoured form was, especially his neck area - it
was covered by a huge scar, similar to that of a collar. A degrading
way to brand someone as theirs.
He dropped his right arm to his side and sighed through his nose.
Perhaps it was time he told Marchosias some of his past - his true
past. He opened his eyes and stared blankly into Marchosias's ruby
eyes. His son's fingers continued to touch his neck and face, as if
wanting to memorize all of his hideous scars.
"As you can see… I used glamours to hide these since they're
unpleasant to look at." He pulled Marchosias so that his son had his
face was buried into his neck. He wanted to avoid looking into those
ruby eyes - afraid of being judged and deemed worthless. "I used to
be suicidal." He heard Marchosias's breath hitch, but only tightened
his one arm hug when his son struggled to escape from his grasps.
"However I could not die. Some Parasites found me fascinating. I

was taken, and I was experimented on. The scar you see around my
neck is their way of branding me." He laughed mirthlessly as the
memories of being helpless invading his mind. "They would wrap
any sharp bendable objects around my neck, and drag me around
similar to that of a leashed dog. My regenerative abilities may be
considered amazing, but having those things for more than a year?
Healing so that I could stop the bleeding was more than enough for
me. I needed to save my strength to escape."
"Let go." He trembled at the rejection and released Marchosias.

Marcaunon covered his eyes with his right arm. "Look at me." He did
not. "I said, look at me, mum."
His arm was pushed away, and his chin grabbed in a firm grip.
"I will not leave you no matter what you may say." Marchosias
scowled and looked at him in resolution. "So tell me. What happened
to your face? Your neck? Everything, mum. Everything."
"My face…?" He murmured as he traced the scar that ran across his
cheeks and nose. "They didn't like how I looked like. They told me
that they wanted me to appear like every other human being -
imperfect."
"And your neck?"
"A collar for me to 'know my place', as they put it."
"And arm?" Marchosias pushed the sleeve of his right arm up.
"Barb wires. They wrapped it around barb wires, and electrocuted

me if I even so far as to twitch." When they did… things to him.
Marchosias reached for his left arm, but he grabbed the small wrist.
"You're in pain. The cause is your left arm. Show me."
"It's nothing I can't handle."
"Show me."
"Chaos…"
" Show me!" His eyes widened when Marchosias shouted,

desperation lacing in his tone. "I… I just want to confirm that I'm
being overly paranoid. Let me confirm it with my own eyes."
He sighed and allowed his son to push up his sleeve. He saw
Marchosias's eyes widened in horror and his lower lip trembled at
the sight of the Dark Mark engraved into Marcaunon's flesh, still
warm and burning horribly. He patted his son's head and smiled in
reassurance.
"Don't worry."
"Don't worry…?" Marchosias repeated softly in disbelief. "Don't…

worry…?" The room they were in began to shake violently, as
Chaos's eyes bled into crimson - murderous intentions seeping out
of his very being. "You ask me… not to worry…?"
Marcaunon pushed himself off of the ground so that he was sitting,

with Chaos on his lap, and whispered reassurance into his son's ear.
The books on the shelves soon started to fall, one by one onto the
floor, whilst the essays he was grading tore themselves and burnt
into ashes. He could not find it in himself to care about the death of
his paperwork, more worried about Marchosias.
" N-not permanent!" He finally yelled, which caused the room to

cease its shaking. "The mark isn't permanent."
" Explain." Was hissed out with venom and anger. He saw malice in
Marchosias's eyes, and he just knew that Voldemort will die a
gruesome death if Marcaunon did not explain properly.
" Voldemort, my employer, recruited me into his group - called

the Knights of Walpurgis. I sent Mort to spy on Voldemort and
your godfather informed me that the Knights have a mark on
their left forearm. I was already prepared to gain the mark-"
" And to dispose of it afterwards. But how will you do it?"
" Shall I show you, Chaos dear?" At least now Marchosias was
distracted by the Dark Mark rather than interrogating how he had
been experimented on when was supposedly still young and living at
an orphanage. Having a genius of a son was troublesome. Maybe a
holiday was needed? He was still worrying about the reason as to
why his son had remained eerily silent for the past two weeks - him
crying over Bella wasn't something to sulk for so long.
He gestured for Marchosias to stand, before doing so himself. He

pulled his son to their secret study that could only be opened by a
Parselmouth, and seated himself on the settee, with Marchosias by
his side.
" The Dark Mark is a bastardize version of a tracking and

summoning spell that Salazar made in his youth - both
involving Parselmagic. It involves connecting my nerves to my
core, and my core to Voldemort's so that he would know where
all his followers are. This way, if a person wanted to rid
themselves of the mark, Voldemort's Magic that resides in that
person's core would react - bringing forth unimaginable pain.
However there is a way around it."
Everything he said, Marchosias already knew - he was of course the

older and wiser version of Voldemort. Marcaunon knew that, but it
was for appearance sake that he explained it fully.
" Do you trust me, Marchosias?"
"… I do."
" Then do not interrupt what I will be doing." He took out a

crimson red rubber wrist band that had the dark mark on it, and
placed it on the small tabletop in front of them - it was made by his
blood and Magic. "This might be impossible for anyone but I, so I
do not recommend you ever trying. Am I clear, Marchosias?"
" Yess, mother."
With that confirmation, he stretched out his right hand with the palm
facing upwards, and mentally summoned the Elder Wand to him.
The wand heeded his call and materialized within a second, and
floated lazily above his palm. He snatched said wand from the air
and pointed it at his torso, where his Magical Core resided, and
narrowed his eyes in concentration.
When his Magic reacted to his commands of pushing the taint from
his core, his muscles tensed up at the agonizing sensation he felt
throughout his body. Sweat formed on his forehead as his breath
labored. Well, this was definitely worse than labor pains - and he had
previously thought that nothing was worse than that hellish
experience.
He slowly yet steadily directed Voldemort's Magic out of his system,

and directly into the rubber wristband that was sitting innocently on
the tabletop. The pain vanished almost instantly and he sighed in
relief, before he pointed the elder wand at his left forearm. He gritted
his teeth in preparation and commanded his Magic to flush out all of
Voldemort's left over Magic residue in his nerves. The pain was that
of a numbing and pulsing one, not as dreadful as the previous, but
enough to bring even grown men to tears.
When all of Voldemort's Magic had finally left his body, he focused
on the tattoo on his left arm and winked at the baffled Marchosias.
He actually gained this idea thanks to Death - indirectly anyway.
Death would've sulked if It knew. When Death had dropped him into
the wrong dimension, he had mind raped a man by the name of
Hisoka. Marcaunon had actually learnt two things from the man -
how to stick his Magic onto surfaces, and how to directly turn his
Magic into a thin cloth-like material that could change its appearance
depending on the surface it was on.
He pinched his inner wrist, and peeled the Magical cloth-like material
from his skin, before he dropped it on the tabletop next to the
wristband. Now he could wear the dark mark during meetings, whilst
taking it off when at Hogwarts - like a sticker!
He really needed to thank Hisoka - maybe he should treat him to

dinner some time.
"What do you think?" He smiled at Marchosias's (who was frozen
with shock) as he slipped the rubber wristband through his left hand.
It settled on his wrist comfortably.
Whilst Marchosias was busy trying to comprehend what the hell just
happened, Marcaunon mentally commanded the Elder wand to
return to Dumbledore - who was currently digging through his
wardrobe to find said wand - and patted Marchosias's head.
"I told you there was nothing to worry about." He said confidently.
"… Oh." Marchosias replied smartly, still too astonished and

bewildered to think of a more suitable reply.
A/N: There's a link to my FB (Facebook) group on my profile.

Join if you feel like it~
Hmm… Many of you dislike the idea of Marc being branded as a

Death Eater… Though I don't blame you all for not wanting. I too
don't like the very idea of him being marked too. I'm unable to come
up with any alternate way for him to skip the whole meeting and not
take the mark, so this is the result. I already planned for him to use
Hisoka's technique, so that was the reason for my making Death
drop him into the wrong dimension. Surprised? I planned ahead!
Gehehehe. Told you guys that crossovers are not simple fillers! Don't
underestimate me. Insert shakes butt here.
I won't be going back to Resident Evil just yet, so… sorry RE fans!
There's one more dimension he has to go to before returning to
solve the Zombie problem. Oh yeah, before I forget. Marcaunon's
not gay… or straight. He's not interested in humans in general, both
female and male. To put it simply, he's asexual, with Voldemort being
the only exception.
Story recommendation for today: The Black Bunny by

Windseeker2305. This is a really popular fic, so I'm sure many of you
already know this one. Harry wants to be left alone, not wanting to
be involved with both sides of the war. But when did he ever get his
way anyway? Buahhaha. He ran away from the Order of the flaming
flamingos, and hid in a random apartment for the time being. What
many did not know is that he was already on the verge of death
because a dark spell was casted on him. Voldemort came, took
interest in him, saved him, and now Harry's living with the big bad
Dark Lord. HP/LV Pairing, AU, MPreg.
Rainbows and Branding,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 19
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture, Mentions of rapes/abuse, Incestuous
relationships

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 19: You can't hide forever!
Date: 31 May 1967
Location: Hogwarts, Marc's bedchamber
His eyes fluttered open as he entered his mindscape. It has been

quite some time since he sorted through his memories, and
organized his mind. He didn't wish to further delay it any longer than
necessary. There was a slight chance of his memories slipping into
his dreams, and that would prove disastrous (to people around him).
His mindscape was as usual, dark and filled with blue swirling orbs.
He walked passed rows after rows of shelves that contained more
than a thousand glass orbs filled with his memories, eerily alike to
those at the Hall of Prophecy. The serpent guards he had
encountered paid him no mind, knowing that he was their creator.
When he finally reached an empty shelf, he stood there, just staring.
The process of creating the so called memory orbs was similar to

that of prophecies, and they can only be touched by him. If - it's a big
IF - others were to do so ( if they bypassed his guards) they would
either go insane by the sheer amount of agony and hatred those
balls emitted through skin contact, or they would flee from his mind
the minute they overcame those feelings… if his serpents did not
bite them whilst they were distracted of course. His mind defense
was perfect, and it was not arrogance if it was true.
He held out his right hand, palm facing upwards, and thought back to
the time where he became Ignatius Rose in order to attend the
meeting held by Voldemort. He did not have much time to sort
through those memories previously since he was far too busy back
then. After a few more moments of recalling back all that he had
seen, felt, smelt, touched, and tasted, an orb formed upon his palm,
filled with swirling blue memories.
With careful hands, he placed the newly made orb onto one of the
many holders that were on the shelf. He had no wish of damaging
his mind any further due to his carelessness (like that one time) -
breaking the orbs was equivalent to breaking his memories.
" I have something to report, Master." One of his serpent guards

spoke.
He narrowed his eyes in annoyance, eyes not once leaving the

beautiful blue orb.
" Is there something amiss?"
" There is another here," that caught Marcaunon's attention. "we

do not know how to proceed, Master."
" Destroy whoever has stepped into my mind as per usual." His
voice was hard and condescending. The serpent cowered, but held
its ground.
" But Master… He is a spe-"
"Interesting."
Marcaunon snapped his head to the direction of the voice, which he

could instantly tell was spoken in the tongue of men rather than
serpents. The guard that was near him hissed in warning at the
intruder, but made no attempts of attacking, much to Marcaunon's
rising ire. His real self was not an understanding and patient person
as compared to who he has always been masquerading as at
Hogwarts. His mind was a place where he let down all of his masks -
that meant he was ruthless and scornful here, even to his own
creations.
The serpent must have felt his patience thinning, for it had bared its
fangs that were dripping with acidic venom.
"Who are you and how have you entered here?" He growled out with
animosity, his eyes already bleeding to crimson in justified anger.
Before he had entered his mindscape, he was at Hogwarts, in his

chamber for Merlin's sake! Nobody would (and could) invade his
mind with Marchosias sleeping next to him - his son had set up
wards to alert him of any intruders, and Marcaunon pretended to be
oblivious since normal seven year olds could never perform such
Magics.
The percentage of him being legilimized? Zero .

The man, for it was obviously a man, was covered in shadows since
his mindscape was a naturally dark place. He was unable to make
out the intruder's features, but he had somewhat recognized the
voice. He was unable to grasp just where he had heard it from
though.
He saw the man shrug, which made Marcaunon sneer at the

audacity.
"You are the reason for my presence here - as you are the one who
called for me." Was the man's not-answer. He sounded far too
amused for Marcaunon's liking. He loathed anyone who spoke to
him as such, apart from Death.
"I called for no one, and you best be on your way, lest I destroy what
little sanity you have left." For no one was sane enough to consider
ever voluntarily enter his mind.
The man chuckled and took a step forward, making the shadows
only covering the top half of his face. Marcaunon was annoyed at the
smirk the man was wearing. He really wanted this intruder's blood.
"I will give you a final warning." The serpents that have gathered
around them during their talk were all positioned to strike at any
given notice. "Leave, or I shall force you to do so myself."
Before his very eyes, the intruder disappeared, only for him to
appear in front of Marcaunon, the man's features were plain for all to
see. Marcaunon eyes could only widen as he recognized the
intruder.
The intruder on the other hand, only brushed Marcaunon's scarred

cheek lovingly with his knuckles, a small triumphed smirk on his
face.
"I found you, Marcaunon Gaunt." Was said before Voldemort

vanished completely from his mind, leaving behind a very distraught
Marcaunon and a group of serpents that were slithering away as if a
honey badger was on their tails, knowing that their creator would
lash out at them for their mistake.
He bolted up from his bed with cold sweat covering his body. It was
only a dream. A bloody dream. There was no way for Voldemort to
enter his mind when they were so far apart. There… was… no…
way… Who the hell was he kidding!? Of course Voldemort was able
to enter his mind, for he could enter the soon to be Dark Lord's mind
as well! How naïve of him to think that their mind link would only
work one way-
A small hand touched his forearm, making him jerk and slap the
appendage away. There was a sound of surprise, but he paid it no
mind as he scooted away from the warm body beside him, his mind
too upset to think clearly.
"Mom? What's wrong?" The worried high pitched voice made him
snap out from his daze, and he stared into the eyes of a very
concern baby Dark Lord.
He opened his mouth to reply, but could only close it when he was
unable to find any words that would explain his situation. He looked
down to his hands that were on his lap, for once, feeling very lost. He
felt more than see his son nearing him, and when the smaller body
was close enough, he hugged Marchosias tightly, burying his nose
into his son's nest of hair. His son's scent comforted him.
Those thin arms wrapped around his shoulders as to comfort him,

and he finally lost the tenseness in his muscles.
"Just a nightmare." He didn't want to believe it to be anything else

but a nightmare.
When Marchosias had finally fallen asleep - thank goodness that

seven year olds need more sleep than adults - Marcaunon warped
out of his bedchambers and into his study. The only solution for him
not to alert his son of his departure was to use Death's portal. Those
wards were both ensuring and troublesome.
"Master." Death's sudden voice startled him far more than he would
like to admit. "Good timing."
"Anything the matter?" he turned to Death after he had seated

himself on an armchair.
"My presence is required elsewhere, so I am leaving this dimension

for an unknown duration of time."
"What!?" he stood up from his seat, very alert and troubled. He

always felt safe at the knowledge of Death being able to come to his
side the second he called for It. "Can't you use your time Magic like
how you did when we travelled to the Zombie dimension?"
"As much as I loathe admitting it, there are a handful of dimensions

that my time Magic, as you called it, cannot intervene with - lest I
destroy it unintentionally. The one I am heading to is one of them.
Forgive me Master." Death Itself looked unwilling to part with him.
That knowledge reassured him slightly.
He knew that he was being selfish by keeping Death here when It

has a job It needed to do, but he was too dependent on the being.
Without Death, he was afraid to even step out of his room, especially
at the news that Voldemort found him. He didn't want It to go, but he
has to be considerate as well.
Whilst his mind was in turmoil, Death's eyes softened. It stepped

forward and ran a hand through his locks. He leaned into the being's
touch and closed his eyes - savoring the feeling. Death was like a
father and at the same time brother to him more than a servant. He
felt this way about Voldemort back in his own parallel universe once
upon a time. Not that he would reveal that to anyone.
"Why are you needed there, if I may ask?"

"There is an item in that dimension that could bring forth calamitous
events. And before Master asks, I did, in fact, create an entity to
govern the balance of souls - and paperwork - however It is unable
to intervene with mortals. I would've attempted to pinch the item the
second it was made, but the creator had no intentions of using it, so I
left it be. Now that it has fallen into the hands of someone who could
potentially bring the destruction of the whole dimension, I must
retrieve it."
Marcaunon's eyes suddenly lit up with interest, much to Death's ever

growing horror.
"I'm going to destroy it." It added in hastily.
That caused him to puff out his cheeks and pouted at the news.
Death was like a mind reader. Was he that transparent?
"Why?" He whined, not at all behaving his physical or mental age.
"Because Master will use it to destroy the Zombie dimension of

course."
"Why would I do such a thing?" He schooled his features into one of

pure innocence, his eyes wide with childish naivety.
"So that Master could spend more time with little Lord - and lesser
paperwork to be done." Death snorted, as if Its Master could fool It
with those puppy dog eyes. It was immune to them.
"You mind reader!" He accused.
"Master's expression is similar to that of a child's to those as old as I

am." Death stated dryly. "And do try to stop changing the subject. I
know Master well enough to not be fooled like those useless
mortals."
His mask dropped, leaving behind a face full of desperation.

"I… I don't want you to leave, but I know you have a job to do… I
know that - but… but!" he tugged his hair harshly. He really was a
selfish person.
Death could only pull him into a hug, which he fully returned. He
breathed in Death's scent - the scent of blood, earth, and most of all,
death. It was a familiar smell that always lolled him into sleep during
his stay at the orphanage.
"Can't I come?" He asked in a tiny muffled voice that was very out of
character of him, his face buried deep into Death's clothed chest.
This was one of the times where he loved his lack of height.
"What of little Lord? Does Master expect little Lord to just sit idle
whilst we wonder off without any form of explanation?"
"I could write a note-"
"He will be mad."
They both remained in each other's arms in silence. Marcaunon

knew that his son could take care of himself, Marchosias was
seventy seven after all, but he knew as well that his son would never
forgive him if he were to suddenly drop out of radar.
"Take him with us." He said in a small voice, not noticing Death's
triumphed smile. "We can take him with us."
Death unwrapped Its arms and led Its Master to the settee, before
pulling Marcaunon on Its lap. It cupped his cheeks and they both
stared into each other's eyes.
"Master will have to explain to little Lord how we are able to travel to
different dimensions."
He faltered for a second, but regained his composure with a

determined glint in his eyes.
"I'll think of something." He looked down for a few minutes, before
looking up shyly at Death. "If it's alright with you. I would not want to
get in your way of work."
"As if Master would ever get in my way." Death chuckled, Its emerald
eyes gazing back at him fondly.
"I'll inform the Headmaster of our departure then. What is the

estimated time for us to retrieve the item?"
"It could be up to a year."
He hummed in thought. Death has unintentionally presented him

with the opportunity of running away from Voldemort - and he would
take it without telling Death of course. The entity was sometimes a
pain and has been telling him to face his fears, which he will at a
later date. Just not… now.
"Excuse me whilst I talk to Dumbledore. Would you mind telling

Chaos dear about our impromptu family vacation?" It won't take
much to convince Dumbledore, but he needed to ensure his position
in Hogwarts. He didn't want to be replaced after all. He loved it
here… and teaching as well. "Oh and get Suki and Mana as well."
"Yes, my Master." Death kissed his forehead before they both

separated.
It entered Its Master's bedchambers, knowing that this would alert

little Lord of Its presence. As expected, the deaged man stirred and
awoken from his slumber as soon as Death's feet touched the
ground on the other side of the door.
"Mort?" was said groggily as Marchosias rubbed his eyes with his
fists. It was a cute sight, even to Death. It held in the urge to coo - It
has dignity, unlike Its Master.
"Indeed, little Lord. Master has requested for you to get ready."
"What for, if I may ask? It's still…" He turned to the clock that was on
the nightstand. "Early."
"We're transferring due to my occupation."
That snapped Marchosias out of his dazed state.
"Mother retired from being a Potions' Professor?" He asked

worriedly, though his face remained indifferent.
"Master is on work leave, and since my occupation requires me

elsewhere, Master decided to follow. Think of it as a family vacation,
little Lord."
Suspicion entered the young ma-ahem, boy's ruby eyes. Marchosias

was a genius, and Death did not doubt that. He must have known
something was odd, seeing that Death could travel anywhere with Its
mode of transportation.
"Does little Lord require assistance in bathing?" It hid a smirk behind

Its hood, knowing that treating Marchosias like a little boy infuriated
him - and would distract him.
As predicted, Marchosias glared and tossed a pillow at Death.

Without much effort, It side stepped, hands relaxed inside his cloak's
pockets. With a huff, Its Master's son jumped out of bed and into the
bathroom.
It hummed a funeral march, a habit It had undoubtedly gained from

Its Master, as It waited. Being immortal does wonders to one's
patience level. Add in the fact that Marcaunon always threw a
tantrum due to the amount of paperwork, Death became a very
patient being.
When the bathroom door clicked opened, a freshly showered

Marchosias stepped out. Death always wondered about the Gaunt
family fashion sense. They all preferred dark colors and clothing that
hug them as if second skin - though no skin apart from the face was
shown. If It were a mortal, It would've already been tempted to ravish
Its Master. Really, Marcaunon had no idea how tempting he dressed
when not using a robe or cloak.
It shook Its head to clear Its thoughts and continued to study the boy.
Marchosias wore a long sleeved turtleneck, form fitting trousers, a
pair of band gloves, and uggs. All were in black. Almost
absentmindedly, Death snapped Its fingers.
Marchosias startled before he glowered at his godfather, having

noticed himself wearing another article of clothing atop his
turtleneck; a light brown bear sleeveless hoodie, ears and tails
included.
Death nodded to Itself. Master would've eventually put little Lord into
a hoodie anyway. Better to do so now. It skillfully ignored the
complaints coming from Its godson, and dragged the boy to Its
Master's study - but not before scooping up the two terrified
shrunken serpents and putting them inside Its pocket. It was lucky
that Marcaunon made his son have the habit of wearing (enchanted)
gloves - It did not want to accidently rot Its godson's hand after all.
Master was annoying when it came to his son's welfare. Stupid son-
complex parent. Death wouldn't want to be there when little Lord
gained a partner.
"I don't need to be hand held like a little kid, Mort."
Death was excellent at being deaf when it came to things It didn't

wish to do.
"… Don't ignore me!"
It wondered if It should pack some clothing for their vacation.
The door suddenly opened, revealing a smug looking Marcaunon.

Probably has something to do with outsmarting Albus. Those kind of
things always brought a smug smile on Marcaunon's lips - how
simple minded. He looked at Marchosias hoodie and snorted, much
to the boy's exasperation. Whilst Its Master was busy with teasing
his son, Death observed what the adult Gaunt was wearing.
Marcaunon wore a long sleeved turtleneck, skinny jeans, band

gloves, and his usual heeled combat boots - he has a height
complex. All black. Death could not sense any glamours on
Marcaunon, and thanks to Its Master's messy bird nest of a hair, the
scar that was on his cheek was partially covered. It was glad that
Marcaunon had finally decided to show Marchosias his scars - it
meant that he was finally moving forward.
It might take a while for Its Master to heal his mental scars, but It
knew that Marcaunon would eventually recover. And after that, It can
finally rid those physically scars from Its Master's beautiful alabaster
skin - especially the one at his neck. Marcaunon was Its Master, and
It loathe how the scar was shaped like a collar. Nobody owned
Death. Those mortals back in Master's original universe did not have
a chance of redemption, seeing that Death had eaten their souls
right after they had died.
"You didn't explain it to him, Mort?" Marcaunon's exasperated voice

brought It back from Its wondering (murderous) thoughts.
"Master's orders did not include that." It wanted Marcaunon to fully

open his heart to Marchosias, and explaining about his MoD status
was a big step, even if it would bring pain in the beginning.
After all, a lesson learnt without pain is meaningless, for one cannot
gain anything without sacrificing something else in return, but once
they have overcome it and made it their own… they will gain an
irreplaceable heart in return. [1]
He looked at Death with an annoyed expression and sighed in

resignation. The older Gaunt crouched so that his son was on eye
level with him - Death inwardly snorted at that, knowing that without
those boots, Marcaunon would be shorter when in that position.
"Chaos dear. The place that we will be heading to is somewhere very
far and unreachable even to owls - I've already sent a letter to your
friend Severus by the way." Marcaunon started with a soothing voice.
Death nodded. So far so good. "We'll be heading to another
dimension vastly different from ours."
..
Idiot Master! If Death were a lesser being, It would've facepalmed.

What kind of explanation was that supposed to be!?
"Huh?" Was the smart reply from the genius child .
"Now that I've already told Chaos dear where we're going, let's go!"
Marcaunon pumped his fist into the air as he stood up.
Death sighed and shook Its head forlornly. Marcaunon may be an

amazing person when it came to politics and teaching, but when it
came down to his son? A failure. A total failure of a parent.
"Wait a damn minute!" Marchosias raised his voice. It amused Death

since he was always level headed. "What do you mean by other
dimension!?"
"Mort will open a portal for us to walk through it. We'll end up in
another dimension. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe and we can come
back after Mort is done with his job."
"What kind of job requires a person to go to another dimension!? No

wait, that's not it! How can a person open up a rift between
dimensions!? It's theoretically impossible."
"And Magic was supposed to be impossible to Parasites as well."

Marcaunon chided. "There's nothing impossible when it comes down
to Magic, just highly improbable. You should know better than that,
Marchosias Gaunt."
Marchosias could only imitate a fish out of water - as if he could not

believe that he was actually lectured about Magic by Marcaunon of
all people. Death on the other hand, knew that this was all simply a
distraction.
True to his thoughts, Marcaunon signaled for Death to open up a

portal whilst Marchosias's brain was still fried. It sighed at Its
Master's childishness (and need to prolong the inevitable) and poked
the air in front of It. A portal soon opened and without another word,
Death scooped the little Lord (ignoring the squeak) into Its arms and
walked into his portal, Marcaunon following not far behind.
Date: Unknown
Location: Unknown
Dimension: Unknown
POV: Marcaunon
"GAAAAAAAAAH!" The three heard the moment they stepped out of

Death's portal (Chaos still on Death's hip). He turned his head to the
direction of the scream, wondering who the hell was screaming in
this… tunnel…? Cave…?
He raised a brow at Death, who only shrugged and tightened Its hold
on Chaos; who was demanding to be let down. Was this another
error (yeah right) on Death's part? The place they were in was some
kind of cave with a wide path, however the strange thing was the
walls that were on either side of them. They were purple and looked
like they were melted before. He resisted the urge to touch it - it
might be poisonous and even if he were immune thanks to the
basilisk venom currently running through his veins, Chaos didn't
know. His son would definitely panic at his recklessness.
" WHY DO WE HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS PLACE AGAIN!?" A
voice shouted in Japanese. His ears twitched and he almost winced
at how loud said voice was. It was male if his ears heard correctly -
maybe a teenager?
" Official my ass! It's exactly the same as before! ARE THEY
PLAYING WITH US!?" The same voice shouted, filled with frustration
and a hint of disbelieved annoyance.
" Only Soul Reapers are able to use the Hell butterfly." An elderly
male's voice deadpanned. "Stop complaining and run!"
The voice got nearer to them and before their very eyes, a portal
opened at the opposite side of the voice, near them. He could only
blink, bewildered, whilst little Chaos stopped punching Death's chest
in favor of staring at the newly opened portal.
" Eh? Who are they? What the hell are they doing here?" The first
voice said in confusion.
The three turned around and could only stare at how weirdly dressed
those Parasi-… no, not Parasites. They had power. So Mortals then.
They could only stare at the weirdly dressed Mortals, who were
running to them as if their lives depended on it.
" No idea, but look! We're almost at the exit!" The… cat yelled back.
Well, he saw weirder things before than a talking feline, and perhaps
in this dimension, talking cats were a norm.
When the group of teenagers (and cat) neared them, the orange
haired teen grabbed ahold of Death by Its forearm (the one not
carrying Chaos), and dragged It towards the exit, whilst a dark haired
teen in white grabbed onto him. He looked over to Death, who only
deadpanned as It flew after Its kidnapper. Seeing that Death had no
complains, Marcaunon followed his servant's example.
They only had to run a few more seconds before they exited the
portal. Everybody suddenly looked down when they felt no footing.
"Eh…?" The orange haired teen worded it nicely. It was probably on
everyone's mind anyway.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" The group of Mortals

screamed in panic as they all fell from mid-air, which the portal had
opened at. Oh… Death would get an earful if It was the cause of this.
As he was debating on whether or not to just alter the gravity around

them, he saw Chaos burying his face into Death's chest cutely. It
distracted Marcaunon, who decided that cooing at his son's adorable
behavior was better than saving them all.
The group was then suddenly engulfed by what felt like a huge
blanket, and huddled tightly inside. It was severely uncomfortable
(claustrophobic) and he hoped that nobody had had direct skin
contact with Death. These Mortals were fascinating and he wanted
to study their energy (and mind rape them).
" What the hell is thiiiiiisss!?" He heard the orange haired teen
exclaim, and this time, he did wince. Who the hell shouts into
another person's ear!? With none the wiser, he kicked the teen's
cheek, feeling loads better afterwards. "Gah! Who kicked me!?"
" Alright! Here it comes!" He heard a young child's voice from outside
of their giant blanket ball, and could only groan as the Mortals yelled
out their confusion. "Jinta… HOME RU- WAH!"
" Tessai Death Catch!"
The blanket they were in suddenly kept going round and round and
round, much to horror. He felt awfully green.
" Urgh… I'm gunna throw up!" He heard someone murmur. Oh he

hoped not.
The blanket like thingy was suddenly off of them, much to his relief,
and Marcaunon could only blink at the change of scenery. Their
limbs were currently entangled together atop a flying carpet, with a
man with a green and white hat welcoming the Mortals back. This
dimension just got a lot weirder.
Date: 31 May 1967
Location: Slytherin Manor
An owl dropped a parchment atop a mahogany table, before it flew

out of the opened window it had previously came from. On the
parchment, a neatly yet hurriedly writing could be seen, clear as day
- in green ink.
Permission for a one year sick leave from work.
Will already be gone once this note is sent.
-Ignatius Rose
P.S. I'm not running away, and will be back soon. Don't look for me.
A/N: Ahahahha~ Another Xover! So… anyone could guess

which dimension Marc, Chaos, and Death landed in?
[1] The quote is from FMA (Fullmetal Alchemist) by Hiromu Arakawa.

I did tweak it a little though. I'm sure Marc's heart is not metal.
Fuahahaha.
Wow. This is, by far, the longest time I took to update my story. I
sincerely apologize for the delay. I was quite busy in preparing for
job interviews you see. I was so nervous that I constantly felt like
puking. I couldn't concentrate on writing this chapter. The ideas and
images in my mind were clear as day, however when I wrote them
down… They turned out… regrettably disappointing. Anyway, I hope
you guys enjoyed this chapter (rewrite count: 6).
Okay so… Reviews I guess.

The only reason why I did not warn my readers that there will be
Incest is due to the fact that it would spoil basically everything . You
all should already know that Marc is originally Harry Potter, and
Charlie, or Charlus, is his original grandfather. Meaning that he had
been fucked by his own grandfather, and that that would make
James, who was supposedly his father, now his nephew because
Chaos is James's half-brother, and this makes Marc the
stepmother/uncle of James… Not to mention that Voldemort is his
second cousin, since their Gaunt grandfathers are siblings. Silk
Roads is full of incestuous relationships so I do not blame you if
you drop this story because some of you feel disgusted by family
members having intercourse with one another. We all have different
tastes after all. Once again, you have my sincere apologies for not
giving you a head warning - it's all in the name of not spoiling my
story. Now I can give warning though, since it's obvious.
Story recommendation for today: The Emerald Terror by Suzume

Jun. This is a time travel fic where Harry was sent back to the past to
Tom's… Sixth year I think. The future was in war between Magicals
and Muggles (these types of stories are my favourites!), and Harry
was the remaining 40 or so left. Their base was breached, and
Mione dear sent Harry to the past. It's still kind of new, so don't
expect many chapters just yet! Tom/Harry pairing, Time travel,
Master of Death!Harry.
Rainbows and Incest,
GenderlessPerson
Valentine's Day Special
latter. MoD!Harry

relationships

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
Chapter 19.5: Valentine's Day Special
Date: 14 February 1976
Excitable (irritating) audible whispers could be heard by him as he

walked towards the Slytherin table at the Great Hall for breakfast.
Today was the day he dreaded most during his Past and present
school days; Valentines' Day - the day where he would be mobbed
by endless numbers of chocolate giving students. And of course,
those chocolates would be given (disposed) to Marcaunon at the end
of the day.
He would often than not wonder about the stupidity of Muggles

during this so called celebration that Dumbledore, the bumbling old
fool, had brought forth into the Wizarding Community. After all, why
would Muggles consider the date that Saint Valentine dies the day of
love ? Was it because Valentine decided to write a farewell letter and
sign it off with ' Your Valentine' ? Did the Muggles think that it was
cool and suddenly decided that 'oh, let us sign Your Valentine at the
end of our cards and give it to the one we love as well? Just like the
person who was sacrificed! Minus the sacrifice and death part of
course'.
He mentally snorted at his own somewhat amusing train of thoughts

as he took a seat near the Head table - this way he could observe
(read: eavesdrop on) his Professors better.
His surrounding Housemates greeted him as he sat, and he returned

in kind, his expression not once showing his great dislike for most of
them. He was far too old to humor them or talk about quidditch (but
he will if required), which he loathes by the way, seeing that he very
much preferred flying without the aid of brooms. He would never risk
his life riding those oversized giant twigs they called broomsticks.
Not to mention how uncomfortable it was for men to actually ride
those - brooms in this time were not as advance in their cushioning
charms sadly .
He took a piece of toast and spread butter on it mechanically as he

continued his thoughts, a fake smile already permanently plastered
onto his face as he listened to his Housemates' conversation with
half a ear, replying only when appropriate. Marchosias didn't believe
in true love, though Magical Creatures came close to that by
definition - they have life or soul mates. He believed that Humans
are far too greedy and envious to truly consider settling down with
another - divorce and affairs existed after all. A human would only
marry another for their fame, fortune, knowledge, benefits, body,
genes, lineage or all he had previously stated. That was what he had
concluded in his true childhood.
His younger counterpart sadly fell into all the categories he had listed
- seeing that they were both one and the same. He somewhat
understood Riddle's feelings for Marcaunon though, and if Marc
were not his mother, he would've felt intrigued and wanted Marc to
give birth to his heir as well. This was why he didn't want Riddle to
court Marcaunon - his mother might get hurt since Riddle was only
going to use him as a baby making machine (this was what he truly
believed anyway since he himself would do so).
He sighed inaudibly as he shot a subtle glance at his mother. He idly

wondered if mother had ever fallen in love before, and if he had,
would he explain those feelings to Marchosias, who was unable to
grasp the concept of true love between humans?
"E-excuse me, Gaunt?" A meek voice was heard behind him, and he
looked over his shoulder with a small questioning smile.
"Is there anything I can help you with, Abbott?"
The Hufflepuff teen fidgeted for a few seconds before she

straightened up and presented a red box to him, determination in her
honey colored eyes. If she was not wearing the Hufflepuff scarf, he
would've thought that Abbott was a Gryffindor.
"Please accept my gift for you."
"Thank you, Abbott." He stood up from his seat and accepted the gift
with a kind smile. "They smell lovely." And indeed it did. He was sure
that his mother would be delighted to eat such delicious smelling
chocolates.
The dark blonde seventeen year old blushed and returned his smile,
though it was genuine unlike his. She excused herself with a stutter,
and made her way back to her House table, where a group of girls
waited and congratulated her with a pat on the back.
He returned to his seat and subtly directed the flow of conversation
away from his person. The rest of his Housemates' (where was
Severus by the way?) chatter was tuned out as he continued to eat
his breakfast. He hoped this day would end soon - his gut was
squirming with bad feelings.
"Marvolo." He greeted with a small smile, although he was inwardly

surprised as he spotted the politician relaxing on his recliner in his
living area.
He has just finished breakfast and was on his way to the designed
classroom to advice for his student's Extracurricular Activity, but then
he noticed that he had left some of his materials back in his private
chambers, so he headed back. Once he had entered his private
chamber, ignoring the way Salazar had winked at him (it was
disturbing), he had stumbled across Marvolo on his way to his study.
"A fine morning this is, isn't it, Marcaunon?" The man purred as he
stood up from his seat.
"I suppose." The weather was indeed fine, albeit a little cooler.
"Would it be a bother to ask for your company this fine day?"
"I have work, Marvolo." An apologetic expression appeared on his

face.
Marvolo only hummed nonchalantly as he stopped just a step away

from Marcaunon. He sometimes had to wonder if his cousin didn't
know the definition of personal space. Or perhaps this was how
cousins normally treated one another? He didn't know, since he
doubted that Dudley was a good example.
"Please?" was said as the Dark Lord tilted his head to the side
cutely, a few strands of hair falling onto those sharp cheekbones in a
seductive kind of manner.
He fought the urge to look anywhere but those exquisite crimson
orbs. His heart was beating wildly, as if he had just finished running a
marathon, and he inwardly groaned. He was suspicious of Marvolo,
seeing that this problem always occurred when he was in the man's
presence. Perhaps he had been cursed without his notice? He took
a mental note to research on heart pounding curses.
"I can't simply leave without any prior notice." Hopefully that would
be enough to make Marvolo return to wherever he came from. He
loved his cousin dearly, really, but sometimes he hated him as well.
Humans - if he still classified as one - were contradictive, he mused.
"Then will you be able to if Dumbledore is notified?" He ignored the

way the Headmaster's name was spat out, already used to it.
"Yess. A week before the actual date -"
"I've already owled him." Marvolo smirked as he leaned closer, their

breaths mingling. "He was reluctant - as expected since I was the
one who contacted him - but I managed to obtain his permission for
you to take the whole day off. Shall we now proceed?"
"I - uhm… that… Alright. I'll just, go fetch my coat." He answered

awkwardly.
Just as he was about to swirl on the balls of his feet, a dark brown
coat was draped onto his shoulders. Marvolo only raised a brow at
him when he blinked owlishly. He sighed and murmured a thank you
under his breath as he shrugged the coat on. He did not so much as
to twitch when Marvolo wrapped his Hufflepuff scarf around his neck,
already expecting it.
He was then led to his floo network, and just as Marvolo threw a
handful of powder, he saw his adorable son saunter into their living
area - probably just finished breakfast. His lips parted in preparation
for him to greet Marchosias, but Marvolo only wrapped an arm
around his waist and stepped into the fireplace, forcing him to move
along.
He didn't notice the blood draining out of Marchosias face, nor the
horror in those ruby eyes of his, as the two adult Gaunts
disappeared in a flash of green.
They stepped gracefully out of the floo with not even a single soot on
their respective coats. He gave a questioning glance at Marvolo
when he noticed that they were at the Leaky Cauldron. The arm
around his waist tightened momentarily before it was removed by a
smirking Marvolo, the usual air of confidence and charisma
surrounding his person. His cousin didn't reply to his gaze, he only
continued to guide Marcaunon with a hand placed on the small of his
back, towards the apparation area.
Without so much as a warning, Marvolo apparated them to who

knows where. The surrounding area they were in didn't clue him to
their destination, it only made him all the more curious. Snow
covered trees were the first thing he spotted, before his eyes landed
on a frozen lake.
"Have you ever skated on ice before, Marcaunon?" His cousin

questioned with a small smile. It was a rare sight that only Chaos
and he had had the privilege to see.
"No." His sight returned to the lake, marveling at the sheer beauty
nature had provided them with. This only made his resolve
heightened and all the more determined to destroy those Parasites
(and that person) - before they could destroy Magic and Mother
Earth.
"I'll teach you. It's exhilarating."
"Did you bring ice skates as well?"
Marvolo only chuckled, as if Marcaunon had asked something

obvious.
"We are Wizards, my dear." His cousin took out his Yew Wand, the
twin to Chaos's, and flicked it at their boots, which turned into a pair
of dark ice skates. "And I'm a master at transfiguration if I do say so
myself."
Marcaunon's response was for his arms to shot out and grasp his
cousin tightly, who was busy with looking at him in mirth, to find his
balance. It had been quite a long time since anybody saw how
ungraceful he was being right now. He swore his cheeks were red
with embarrassment rather than the cold.
"A little warning would do wonders next time." He murmured

grumpily.
"Don't worry, dear cousin. You'll get used to it, and you won't fall so
long as I'm around."
"I almost fell though." He pointed out with a scowl.
"I'll always be there to catch you." The following words were

whispered into his ears, making him shiver from the hot air. "No
matter what. Trust me."
Marvolo then proceeded to pull him onto the iced lake. He wobbled
and tightened his hold on his cousin, not at all minding their
closeness - he relished in the body heat actually, it was bloody cold.
He didn't want to fall on his bum, it was beneath him to do so.
His balancing pole suddenly disappeared and he flailed for a

moment before his hands were grabbed. He shot the chuckling man
a glare (pout).
"I don't understand why I have to learn how to skate on ice. It's not
as if I'll continue to skate in the future." He huffed as he continued to
balance whilst his cousin in front of him glided slowly backwards.
"Now, don't say that." His cousin crooned. "It's relaxing - and I plan
on inviting you to skate with me every year. Be sure to keep
February 14th a free day from now onwards, alright?"
"Do I have a choice?" He deadpanned at the innocent expression on

the taller Wizard's face.
"Not really, no." Marvolo smirked, still gliding on the ice gracefully
unlike Marcaunon, who almost tripped on air.
They continued on silently, both enjoying each other's company

whilst they glided slowly on the ice. He was getting used to the
balance, and as he looked up from the ground (he was too worried
about tripping to really look ahead), he almost lost his balance due to
the soft smile playing on Marvolo's lips. It was a breath taking sight,
even more so than the lake's scenery, and he wondered what kind of
thoughts were inside his cousin's ever working mind.
Was ice skating with him really that enjoyable? For Marvolo to
actually smile without any form of malice or amusement? Deep
within the corners in his mind, he dearly hoped so.
"Looks like you're getting used to this."
He only hummed in agreement, his eyes not once breaking contact

with the person in front of him.
Marvolo's fingers on his hands loosened, and he took that as a sign

for him to try and skate on his own. He dropped his hands and
propelled himself slightly forward, feeling gleeful that he didn't
humiliate himself by faceplanting. If he did, he would've undoubtedly
apparated away within a split second.
"You're doing well." Marvolo complimented. "Are you enjoying

yourself?"
"Are you?" He countered as he tentatively brought his other leg

forward.
His balance wavered and he flailed his arms around. Just before he
could actually fall, an arm wrapped around his waist.
"I am. Immensely." The breath of hot air tickled his cheek as his
cousin brought him closer to the Dark Wizard's chest.
His face flushed, and he looked away from those intense crimson
orbs.
"I-I'm getting thirsty though." He stuttered out, eyes roaming

anywhere but on the person holding him.
"Hot chocolate?"
"If it's no trouble." Sadly, the flask bangle that Chaos had given him
was accidently left behind at Hogwarts.
"None at all. We'll continue skating afterwards."
They both glided to the edge of the lake, and just as they reached,
their skates returned to their original state of boots. Marvolo then
pulled out something from his pockets, and dropped it onto the
snowy ground. Right before his very eyes, a light blue picnic blanket
resized along with a picnic basket, two thermo flasks, and seat
cushions.
He was ushered onto the blanket, and they sat down on their
respective cushions, side by side, leaning against each other. He idly
wondered if using a heating charm would be more convenient, but
pushed that aside when the basket opened and revealed chocoly
goodness.
He could feel himself salivate at the sight, and he gulped discreetly

as Marvolo slowly brought out all the different kinds of chocolate
cakes onto the blanket. A fork and plate was given to him, before his
cousin - bless the man's soul - plopped a slice of cake onto it.
"Chocolate cheesecake." Marvolo pointed out.

As soon as his cousin had served himself (he had manners after all),
Marcaunon forked out a chunk from his slice and plunged it into his
mouth. He almost melted at the taste, moaning at how sweet it was.
Oh how he thanked Circe - or Death actually - that he could never be
subjected to natural illnesses such as diabetes.
Just as he took his last bite, another set of cakes was set onto his
plate. He thanked his cousin with a smile.
"Molten chocolate cake. Would you like some hot chocolate, or

coffee?"
The pattern continued as they ate and conversed. When all the
cakes were cleared, with him eating majority of them and Marvolo
only watching him, they fell silent. It wasn't awkward, far from it
actually. He enjoyed their outing and grinned at the prospect of doing
this every year. But… Why at the 14th specifically?
"Why are we here again?" Marcaunon mumbled sulkily as he was

pulled towards the Parasite wooden square building in front of them
by their interlocked hands.
"For relaxation purposes." Marvolo stated calmly for the nth time, not
once losing his composure.
"But why here specifically - of all the places you could choose from?"
He protested (whined), his nose scrunched up at the very idea of
being near those waste of spaces.
His lips curled as Marvolo ignored him in favor of pushing the

wooden door open. There were a few rows of lockers lined up inside,
and Marvolo pulled him to the closest. He looked over the taller's
shoulder and sighed inaudibly at the towels provided.
Without prompt, he started undressing. Why he had agreed to follow

Marvolo to a traditional Finnish sauna - for relaxation purposes, he
says - that was located near Parasite territory was beyond him. The
git even convinced him to remove all his glamours back at the lake.
Stupid persuasive Slytherin.
He startled when fingers brushed the scar on his bareback.
"Marvolo?" He paused, only half way unbuttoning his trousers, and

looked over his shoulder. Marvolo's eyes were unreadable as those
spidery fingers trailed down his back.
"When will you finally allow that servant of yours to rid your body of
these scars?" Marvolo finally said after a minute of silence.
He sighed. This wasn't the first time Marvolo had asked. He turned
around with his arms crossed, an annoyed expression on his face.
"You were the one who told me to drop my glamours." He disliked

dropping them since this conversation would undoubtedly start.
"Forgive me, Marcaunon." Marvolo whispered as he stepped

forward, eyes never once leaving Marcaunon's chest. "But it pains
me to -"
"I know." He interrupted with a resigned sigh. "Perhaps it's best if we

return ho -"
Marvolo's eyes sharpened.
"I apologize for bringing it up, but since we are already here, we
might as well enjoy ourselves." With that, Marvolo shrugged off his
coat.
They both stripped, leaving only a towel tied loosely around their
hips. Marcaunon averted his eyes from looking at his cousin's toned
body, a little self-conscious of his small frame and scarred body.
Marvolo was the exact opposite of him; broad shoulders, toned yet
not overly muscular body, and smooth skin without any form of
blemish.
They entered the sauna room, the heat already doing wonders to his
slowly unwinding muscles. There were several male and female
Parasites lounging around the wooden benches, with towels
wrapped around their hips and bodies respectively. His nose
scrunched up automatically and he fought the urge to make a bloody
mess out of them - quite literally he might add.
"I've already set up an anti-Muggle ward around the perimeter.

They'll be leaving in less than five minutes - I'm sure you can tolerate
them for a while longer." Was whispered into his ear as Marvolo
pulled him towards the bench that was furthest away from the
Parasites.
How merciful of his cousin. Perhaps Marvolo was refraining from

killing the Parasites because they were kind of on holiday? He
shrugged and crossed his right leg over his other. True to his
cousin's words, the Parasites gradually began to lessen, their eyes
dazed from the wards placed by Marvolo.
When the final one finally left, his tension left with them, leaving his
shoulders feeling lighter as he leaned against the wooden walls. A
wave of his hand later and a bucket of water was dumped into the
hot sauna stones, making them produce more steam.
They sat there silently for a little longer enjoying the steam on their
skin, before Marvolo cupped his cheeks and turned him towards the
taller male. He raised a questioning brow, wholly ignoring the flip
flops his stomach was busy doing.
The man's thumb rubbed circles across his cheeks, and his eyes
fluttered close at the sensation.
"It's been awhile since we last saw each other." The whisper made
him snap his eyes open. He almost recoiled at the face only
centimeters apart from his. Almost. He did go cross eye for a split
second though.
"What've you been up to?" He asked softly, not wanting to break the
mood(?) they were in.
"This and that." Marvolo's body shuffled closer. "And you, Marcaunon
dear?"
"Just the usual."
"Really?"
"Ye -" he was cut off when soft lips pressed against his.
He froze, not really knowing (and understanding) what to do as his

cousin's lips left his. He saw something flicker into Marvolo's eyes,
but it was gone before he could decipher the emotion. Marvolo
smiled apologetically and tucked a few of Marcaunon's hair strands
behind his ears, apologizing for startling him and explaining that
family would often show their affection by kissing one another.
His shoulders relaxed and he returned the smile, absently saying

that Chaos would often kiss him on the cheek rather than his lips
when his son was younger - but in the back of his mind, he noted
that he was feeling disappointment. Why he was disappointed, he
didn't know.
They both left the sauna after twenty minutes, and cooled down by
taking a shower at the provided shower stalls. After they have
donned on their clothing, Marvolo held out a hand to him.
"Where are we going next?" He asked curiously.
"One of my followers recommended a restaurant, but I have a better

idea."
"Was it Abraxas?" He held onto the presented hand.
"You know my followers well."

"More like slaves."
"Now, that was rude of you. Just because they act as such does not
make them a slave." Marvolo chided, though he was smirking cruelly.
"I may be a tyrant, but I have a good heart."
He snorted in disbelief. If Marvolo has a good heart, Grindelwald

wouldn't be living in Nurmengard right now.
"Alright, enough delaying. I'm sure you're hungry."
"Famished actually."
They both disappeared with a soft, almost inaudible crack.
They reappeared at a snowy meadow, a picnic blanket already

prepared along with a basket, wine bottle and two wineglasses. He
blinked. They were having another picnic? He idly wondered why
Marvolo was acting so out of character today.
The moment he stepped onto the blanket, he felt heat seeping into
his boots. Ah, a warming charm to keep them cool. A wonderful idea,
seeing that it was almost nightfall. They both settled near each other,
similar to before when they were near the frozen lake, and the taller
Wizard took out two empty plates.
The smell of delicious food wafted out from the opened basket, and
Marvolo flicked his Yew wand, making all the food lay out by
themselves, and the wine to pour itself into their respective glasses.
"Cheers." Marvolo raised his wineglass.
"Cheers." He smiled and lightly tapped his own wineglass against his
cousin's.
He took a sip and hummed at the sweet taste. It was to his liking. As
he set aside his glass, three floating Oyster Rockefellers landed
inside his empty plate. Seeing that Marvolo was already preparing to
eat the ones on his plate, he did the same.
"It's good." He commented as he made a grab for another shell.

"Although it doesn't taste like the ones your houseelves made."
"That's because they were not the ones who cooked for this
occasion." Marvolo answered with a smug smile.
"Oh? Let me guess, you did?" He replied sarcastically, a playful grin

on his face.
"Indeed."
The fork that was halfway to his mouth paused in its journey.
"Really?" He looked at Marvolo skeptically.
"Have I ever lied to you, my dear?"
"Well excuse me for being so skeptical. You were the one who said
that cooking is only done by servants." He huffed and shoved the
oyster into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. It really was brilliantly
done.
"It is." Before he could open his mouth to speak, Marvolo continued.
"However if it's for you, I'll do anything."
He could feel his blood rushing to his cheeks, and he quickly shoved
the last oyster into his mouth as a distraction. Marvolo only gave him
a knowing look, much to his irritation. Before he could make his
irritation known, a small bowl of Shrimp Bisque floated towards him.
He grabbed said bowl and the soup spoon beside of it
He took a spoonful and was amazed at the taste. If Marvolo knew

how to cook, did Chaos know as well? He made a mental note to ask
his son once he returned to Hogwarts, before he continued eating
his soup.
"It's really a surprise, a very pleasant surprise, that you know how to
cook."
"And you don't? Such a skilled Potions' Master like yourself would
hardly have a difficult time in the kitchen. It's somewhat similar to
Potions' making after all."
"Only simple dishes, dear cousin. Nothing as spectacular as yours.

When and why did you learn how to cook, if I may ask?"
"As you should know, I travelled a lot in my younger days -"
"You're still young."
"- I prefer having to cook my own meals than to spend money eating
out - seeing that I am not as rich as I am currently." He continued as
if Marcaunon never interrupted.
Once they both finished their soup, a plate of Filet Mignon topped
with blue cheese floated towards them. He absently grabbed the
plate, knife and fork included, before raising a brow at Marvolo.
"You have expensive tastes."
"Says the person who spends at least a hundred galleons on

candies and chocolates alone per month."
"Touché."
They continued their light conversation as they cut into their

respective meats. He took note of how tender it was, and almost
moaned at the taste - it was that great. If he were a lesser man, he
would've just gobbled it all in one bite.
As they were half way through their meal, Marcaunon paused and
turned to stare at the sky, where the sun was already halfway down
the horizon, basking them both in its afterglow. The area they were in
looked surreal as the sun temporarily dyed the snow orange. All in
all, it was a beautiful and breathtaking sight - he even had to breathe
out a small exclamation of awe. He wouldn't mind watching the
sunset whilst having a picnic with his cousin again, next time they
would have to include Chaos and Death, so they could have a family
outing.
A few floating candles suddenly appeared around them. It made him

smile at his cousin's thoughtfulness.
"This area is perfect for stargazing." Marvolo commented

indifferently, but Marcaunon could read the hidden question; will you
stay and stargaze with me?
It made him smile fondly at the Dark Lord. So different, yet so alike
to his son. He silently swore that he would never allow Harry Potter
to vanquish Voldemort at this alternate universe, and if the fake
Harry somehow did, Marcaunon will bring his cousin back - sanity
intact of course.
"I'll take your word for it, dear cousin."
Location: Hogwarts, Library, Corner
He chewed on his bottom lip, not even noticing how bruised it

already was due to the vexation and resentment he was currently
feeling. How dare that brat actually take his mother on a date! On
Valentine's Day no less! How dare his younger counter part
celebrate such an occasion! How dare he! How fucking dare he! A
Muggle occasion!
He gritted his teeth and buried his face within the folds of his arms
that were resting on the tabletop. He hated this feeling of
uncontrollable anger that was radiating within his blood. He had once
lost himself in mindless rage, and it scared him. He didn't want to
lose himself.
It was all that brat's fault! If only Riddle had not taken an interest in
his mother. If only he had killed Riddle the moment he had found out
about his counterpart. If only Riddle had never been born into this
world! If only that, everything would've gone on perfectly! He
would've had a perfect mother, a perfect father-figure, a perfect life,
a perfect everything! But no, Riddle just had to ruin everything by
being alive !
" I won't be second. I won't allow you to take my place!" He

whispered to himself.
He stood up from his seat, not caring that some of the books had
been toppled by his movements. If anybody were near him, they
would've undoubtedly fled the moment they saw his expression. An
expression of pure, vindictive hatred that made his eyes glow bright
malicious crimson.
He had never been so resentful in his life. Not even for Harry Potter.
Was this because he didn't want to lose the only man that has ever
truly cared for him?
" Tom Marvolo Riddle." His voice was soft, dark and forbidding. "I'll
kill you. So very slowly that you'll be begging for death."
His episode at the library had gone unnoticed and unseen, much to
his relief. It took him a few hours to control his inferno of emotions,
but thanks to his occlumency training, he managed. Barely, but he
did.
On his way to the courtyard, he was stopped a few times by many of

his peers, both girls and guys alike, and presented boxes of
chocolates for both him and his mother. He had plastered a caring
smile and thanked them all, not once saying that he'll eat them, only
smiling and letting them think otherwise on their own accord - he
disliked lying, even to his enemies.
When he was finally alone, he dropped his mask and sighed. Thank
Merlin for shrinking charms. Otherwise his arms would be full of
chocolate boxes right now.
"Marchosias?" The familiar drawl came from behind him.
The mask he had earlier discarded came back in full force as he

turned around.
"A fine afternoon, isn't it, Severus?"
"Indeed. I have not seen your father around… I would think that
Professor Gaunt would gleefully be present at the prospect of free
chocolates, or in his words, chocoly goodness."
"He's out." He unintentionally sneered, the feelings of resentment

making itself known for a second. He hastily blanked his features
and took a deep calming breath. Severus only raised a brow, not at
all commenting on his lack of control - the future Potions' Master
knew him since his body was that of a child's after all.
"Judging by your mood… Your uncle must've stolen him."
"Brilliant deduction, Severus! It's no wonder you're called a child

genius." He scoffed, his tone heavy with sarcasm.
"Such a wonderful friend I am to bear the brunt of your unjustified

anger towards my person without even the slightest feeling of upset."
He raked a hand through his hair and sighed, an apologetic

expression on his face.
"Forgive me, Severus. You know how I am when uncle dearest

decides to drop by unannounced and clearly uninvited."
"You need not apologize, Marchosias." Severus waved off his

apology. "I have to wonder why the only time that man becomes
such an annoyance is when in your very presence. The only reason I
can come up with is that he just loathes your very being."
"The feeling's quite mutual." He stated drily. "Anyway, why are you
here? I know you well enough to know your preference of being in
the dungeons rather than the open."
Severus suddenly threw him a small package wrapped in paper,
which he caught with one hand. He raised a brow at the green
wrapping, and as he raised his gaze to question his childhood friend,
Severus has already stridden off to wherever cave he came from.
With the curiosity of a child's, he unwrapped the gift and blinked

owlish at the contents.
"My… How kind of you, Severus." He chuckled as he slipped a dark

chocolate past his lips, humming at the flavor. It wasn't sweet (it was
near bitter actually), but it was exactly how he liked his chocolate to
be. He wasn't his mother after all.
With a lighter heart, he headed back to the library, intending to

actually finish his class assignments there.
A/N: This is an extra/omake just in case you haven't noticed.

Takes place a few months after the Christmas Special. Gosh. My
head and eyes hurt from the nonstop typing. Stupid selective
memory - Y U NO remember Vday until the last possible
moment!? Happy Valentine's Day guys.
Don't expect another fluffy chapter from me anytime soon. I really,

really, really , can't write more of this for now - did you see how
sappy some lines are!? Fluffs are hard to write! I mean, I suck at
romance and only want anime people to be my lovers. You can just
imagine how sad my love life is.
Alright. The ending just wrote itself. I swear I didn't mean to make
Chaos lose it. My fingers… They have a life of its own! And perhaps
it's because I subconsciously needed some darker moments to
replace the light heartedness. Gehehehe?
Story recommendation for today: A change of Occupation by

GenderlessPerson. Is it wrong to recommend my own story? Insert
sheepish laughter here. Anyway, this is my latest story - HP/KHR
crossover. I assure you it will be worthwhile.
Your Valentine,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 20
latter. MoD!Harry
Side Pairing(s): Pending

relationships

"English"
" Parseltongue"
Chapter 20: Sneak peak on Voldie!
A scream of rage was heard all throughout the entire manor, making
a blonde, pompous wizard falter in his tracks, but continued
nonetheless until he arrived just in front of a pair of magnificent
double doors. The blonde's aristocratic features twisted into one of
fear for only a split second before he managed to reign in his
emotions. His hesitance of making his presence known to his Master
was justified, seeing that the scream he had just heard had came
from said Master, who, he might add, was a master in controlling his
emotions. Whatever set off his Lord was definitely something grand.
Just as he finally gathered all of his courage to knock, the double

doors opened, revealing a pale man with furious crimson eyes sitting
behind his desk. The blonde unconsciously took a step back at his
Master's malicious expression.
"Abraxas." The Adonis in front of the blonde - Abraxas - hissed, his

voice sharp and cold.
"My Lord." He bowed down to his waist. Malfoy pride be damned. He

would rather discard it to live another day. He still has an heir to
teach, and a son to love.
"Ease yourself and enter."
He did just that, standing at attention with his hands firmly behind of
him, in front of his Master's mahogany desk.
They were both silent, with him avoiding his Master's eyes due to
respect - and perhaps afraid to see the murderous expression aimed
at him.
"Well?" Tom Riddle, or better known as Lord Voldemort to his

followers, demanded. "Explain your presence and make it quick. I
tire of waiting. Be very careful of what you may report though… I
confess myself - vexed." Voldemort ended with an unspoken
promise of pain.
"I apologize for coming here unannounced, my Lord, but I bear good
news - one is that the latest bill has been approved of."
Voldemort's beautiful eyes (that he had always secretly compared to

rubies) turned to him, and he almost melted at the attention he was
given. It was no secret to his fellow Inner Circle members about his
infatuation with their Lord.
"Excellent. You've done well, Abraxas. Were there any
complications?" Abraxas replied in negative, which made His Lord's
expression of fury morphed into one of elation. "Lord Voldemort
rewards those who accomplish their given tasks. What is your
desire, Abraxas?"
"Thank you, my Lord. You are far too generous." He bowed with his
right arm across his chest, before he straightened his spine. "Your
contentment is my only desire, my Lord, however if I may… What
ails you so, my Lord, my Master?"
Voldemort made no show of what he was currently feeling, his face

eerily similar to that of a beautiful sculpture, and Abraxas instantly
regretted his choice of reward - he felt that he had overstepped his
bounds. Why had he brought up the reason for his Master's rage!?
Oh self-preservation, where have you fled to? Why was his curiosity
much higher than his desire?
"Very well." That made Abraxas almost release a sigh of relief.

Almost. Malfoys do not sigh . "Seeing that you have yet to fail me so,
I shall settle your curiosity. One of my followers have decided to take
a vacation with only a note, not even a letter, as a way to inform me
of his abrupt departure."
He could feel sweat trailing down his back at the sheer fury his Lord
was emitting. Whoever the person was, he was in a whole level of
trouble. One does not simply leave in that way without obtaining their
Lord's ire. He was hesitant in calling for his Master's attention, one
part of him not wanting his Master's wrath to be directed back at him,
whilst the other part wanted those beautiful crimson orbs to be
focused solely upon him. Preferably whilst he was writhing in
pleasure beneath his Lor-
Without so much of a warning, the Lord of Slytherin's Magic lashed

out, making a pleasurable shiver run down his spin. What
magnificent power.
"You speak of having more than one good news, Abraxas?"

"Yes, my Lord - I apologize for the delay I have caused. I have
stumbled across a few sealed memories from my son. I was curious,
and I admit, furious at who had dared enter my son's mind." He
could see that his Lord was impatient, and was quick to get to the
point. "With my level of skill, I was able to remove the seal, however I
came upon a sharp realization afterwards. My memories as well
have been tempered with, and it was from the very same person that
has sealed some of my son's memories."
"I do not see the good news in this, Abraxas." Voldemort stood,
easily towering over him, the anger on his Lord's face for all to see.
"The only thing I see is that this man could have easily taken any
information in your and your son's mind. Information regarding me,
and everything that I have tasked upon my followers - valuable
information, Abraxas Malfoy."
He bowed his head, knowing that this was a risk he was taking. But
the reward… Yes, he knew that the reward would tower over the risk.
"I have taken upon myself to see a trusted mind healer, my Lord.
She has deemed my memories only been tampered with - not an
ounce of information has been forcefully taken from my head."
His Lord stared silently for a minute, before reseating himself and
gestured for Abraxas to continue. Clearly the beauty was displeased,
but at least Abraxas has taken safety measures before reporting.
"The man who has tempered with our minds is" He hesitated slightly
before he continued. "Marcaunon Gaunt, my Lord."
Voldemort immediately sat up straight, crimson eyes bright as he

leaned forward almost eagerly. "Tell me, dear Abraxas, what kind of
seal and its effects?"
"The opposite of Forget-Me-Not seal, my Lord. The term is that once

my son leaves Hogwarts' ground, he will forget anything in relation to
Marcaunon and Marchosias Gaunt. I found this suspicious, and after
an investigation, found out some interesting things. Professor Gaunt
placed a spell on all the students and some teachers, to forget about
him and his son upon leaving Hogwarts."
"Interessting… Sso he hid the ssame way I did. But why, iss the
question?" His Master hissed lowly to himself, before he continued in
a louder voice. "And you? What of the memories he tempered with?"
"It was basically the same, my Lord." He frowned lightly at the

reminder. "Once he has left my sight, I would conveniently forget
about his existence until someone has mentioned him, or that he
makes an appearance."
"Left your sight?" He was oblivious to the dangerous, borderline

jealousy, tone of his Lord. "Do you see him often?"
"My wife is a colleague of his, my Lord. She sometimes invites him

over for dinner in our manor."
"I will assume that she had the same seal as the both of you."
"Indeed she did, my Lord."
The study was silent for a few moments. Voldemort's smirk almost
melted Abraxas's insides. The man was that good looking. "I am sure
you are able to have the both of us over for dinner on the same
night, isn't that right, Abraxas?"
"Of course, my Lord."
"What other thingss did you find out about the two Gauntss,
Abraxass?"
The way his Master had drawn out the S's made Abraxas's lower
region stir with want. He was quick to push the images out of his
mind, not wanting his Lord to see - Voldemort was a master
legilimens, and it was considered disrespect to think of his Lord in
that way. Not that he cared when in the confines of his home.
"Marcaunon Gaunt, Pureblooded orphan, and is 23 this year. He is a
Potions' Master working at Hogwarts." He took out a photo from
within his robes and placed it gently atop his Master's desk. "He is
well liked by the students, disregarding which House they came from
- a very popular Professor, and is Slytherin's Head of House. He
used to be in Hufflepuff, and has always been the top student of his
year. He received ten Outstandings for both OWL and NEWTs, and
is considered the youngest Potions' Master in all of history. It is said
that his skills could be on par with the famous Ignatius Rose."
Frankly, it was amazing for a person to even achieve five

Outstandings. To actually have gotten ten was simply incredible -
and he only recalled two other graduates that had achieve more or
less the same result. He was about to speak of Rose's
achievements, however the moment he spoke of the name Ignatius
Rose, his Lord grew irritated, so he was quick to continue his report.
"Marcaunon Gaunt is close with Pomona Sprout and Albus

Dumbledore - my informant has even said that Dumbledore actually
favored him more than even McGonagall. There are even rumors
that he would soon be the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts. He has
a son named Marchosias and is six, going seven years old."
He was disgusted at the fact that this Professor had had impregnate
a lady at the tender age of sixteen. Magicals have spells to prevent
pregnancy, and if they were too lazy to do some standard anti-
pregnancy charms, they should not have had intercourse at all. A
disgrace to Purebloods he would be if not for his amazing academic
results and career. However, Abraxas was unable to deny the
attraction he felt due to how beautiful the man was. The man that
looked eerily identical to his Lord, only more feminine. They could be
brothers, if he did not know that both his Lord and Marcaunon Gaunt
were orphans.
"Do you have a photo of the boy - Marchosias, as well?"
He dutifully placed a photo of said boy being carried by his father,

the two smiling (well, Marcaunon was, Marchosias only had a small
tilt of his lips) at the camera, next to the previous photo. [1]
"Do you have any more information regarding them, Abraxas?"
"No, my Lord."
"I am very much pleased with this news you brought, Abraxas. Tell
me - what is your wish? I will reward you handsomely."
"If I may, my lord…"
"Speak your mind."
He shifted, a little nervous.
"I would like the honors of warming your bed, my Lord."
The room fell into silence, and he suddenly regretted asking. His
self-preservation really had left him. Hopefully, not for good.
"Is that all?" He could only nod, his eyes looking anywhere but
Voldemort. "Very well. Step closer, Abraxas."
His head snapped up and his breath was caught in his throat. His ex-
classmate, his crush, his Lord, had begun to disrobe. Abraxas was
quick to move, and would deny all if they said he was practically
running.
The wards around the study glowed for a brief moment, and just as
they dimmed down, the voices from within stayed within.
A/N: Well… I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. On another

note, skip the Specials if it's not your cup of tea. Those are
extras, not quite important just yet.
[1] yepmissis drew a fanart for me, and I pictured that the photo
Abraxas presented to Voldy looked just like that. The link is in my
profile for those who are lazy. For those who aren't; art/ maracaun-
and-little-chaos-532654433
I thank all those that reviewed, and humbly hope to see more in the
future.
Argh, I'm sorry that this chapter is so short. I was actually going to
post the crossover chapter, but I accidently overwrote it with another
chapter! It was so frustrating, and I was on a deadline of 'one week'
after someone had questioned when I would be updating. I don't
want to break my word, especially when I promised them on
Facebook that I would update at Sunday (which is today, my GMT).
This is the best I could do at the moment, and hopefully, did not
disappoint many of you too much. Once again, I'm sooooooooooo
sorry!
Story recommendation for today: Framed & Fractured by

Antediluvian Poet. I just recently stumbled across this fic, and was
pleasantly surprised by it. The plot is a unique one, whereas Harry is
trapped inside a Magical painting with no way out. The only person
he has as company is a young Tom Riddle, still attending Hogwarts.
It's different, since I've never read about a fic where Harry was the
one stuck inside a painting. It was always the opposite, where Tom
or Voldemort was stuck, and relied on Harry heavily to get them out.
Time-travel. Not sure if this is Slash or even TMR/HP, but, meh.
Rainbows and Sulking,
GenderlessPerson
Mother's Day Special
latter. MoD!Harry

Killings/Torture

"Speaking"
" Parseltongue"
' Mental telepathy'
Chapter 20.5: Mother's Day Special
Date: 10 May 1977
Location: Hogwarts
The day begun like any other this week - with Marcaunon bent over
his desk, scribbling and muttering about the bane of all existence;
paperwork. When the door to his study slammed opened, he, with
blurry eyes, looked up.
He did not expect to see Death, in all of Its cloaked glory, to be
staring back at him with intense emerald eyes. He was about to
question his servant, but just as his lips parted, Death disappeared,
only to reappear in front of him.
He did not squeak. Really.
Unexpectedly, Death grabbed his hand and the two disappeared

from his office. He was disorientated and confused the second they
landed, and had to hold onto Death to gain his bearings. As soon as
he did, however, he glared, his scarlet eyes became crimson in
anger as he eyed his longtime companion.
"What the bloody hell just happened, Death?" He hissed, his tone
calm yet threatening.
Death only grinned, not at all caring that It was this close to being
castrated.
"That, my Master, is called apparition. I'm sure one of these days

you'll be able to apparate as well as I did."
"As a matter of fact, I already know how to apparate, you sorry

excuse of a servant. But thank you for your oh so brilliant
explanation. Now tell me, why have you apparated me to… Where
the hell are we anyway?"
"My realm."
"… You renovated your office?" He raised a brow at the innocent

looking teddy bear sitting innocently on one of the many shelves. It
would not do to underestimate the things within Death's office. That
teddy bear might be a tool for creating a weapon of mass
destruction.
"What splendid observation skills you have, my Master!" Death

clapped his hands mockingly, and if Marcaunon did not know the
being well enough, would've thought that the entity disliked him. But
alas, It was genuinely amused at how he was stating the obvious.
Damn ancient arsehole.
"Thanks." He stated dryly, already used to Death's playful

(disturbing) attitude. "Now, will you tell me the reason as to why you
have brought me here?" Marcaunon asked as he glanced around
the… overly bright office. The walls were bright orange, for
Morgana's sake. It was an eyesore of a color.
Death's grin widened, if that was possible, and suddenly melted out
of existence. He only stared at the spot where Death used to be,
before he rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. That git
actually left him here! With no way out! The only one possible to
open the gateway to Death's realm was Death himself, and not even
the Master of Death could. He could transport another person, or
himself, to another realm though. But he refrained from doing that -
Death's minions were weird.
He sighed, a little irritated at being left behind, before he sat on

Death's comfortable office chair. Well, since he had nothing to do,
why not just relax? It was better than doing paperwork on a
weekend. Actually, Chaos should be up soon… and his son would
probably wonder where the heck he was, seeing that they had
agreed on eating out this particular day.
He could only hope that his son woke up in a good mood. He did not
need, or want, a repeated occurrence on what had happened the
last time he had broken his promise. Marcaunon shivered slightly.
How the hell did he raise his son to be such a sadist, he would never
know. He just pushed it as Voldemort's influence.
As he settled himself comfortably, he entirely missed how a person -

soul actually, seeing that only souls could be here, disregarding him -
appeared. He only realized that he was not alone in this office the
second someone had cleared their throat to gain his attention.
And gain them they did.

He snapped his head to the direction and could only stare at the
soul, his mind unable to process why the hell this particular soul was
here, of all places. Normally, the only souls to be brought here were
the damned. Or those that could not be sorted due to how high their
negative points were.
"Harry?" The soul of Lily Potter spoke unsurely. He could not blame
her for her hesitance. He looked nothing like her son, after all.
"Marcaunon Gaunt, at your service, Lady Potter." He stood up and

bowed slightly. When he straightened up, the person he no longer
considered to be his mother looked more anxious - her green eyes
were clouded with fear.
"G-gaunt? Are you related to T-t-tom Riddle?" She stuttered out the
true name of Voldemort.
"I doubt it." Marcaunon Gaunt was only related to Tom Riddle in this
universe. His universe's Lily Potter was still alive, and too young to
look thirty something, so he had to assume that this Lily was from an
alternate universe.
She relaxed slightly, but still looked tensed and ready for battle. Her
fingers, he observed, were twitching for a wand that was not on her.
Oh, did he forget to mention? Souls here were naked as the day they
were born. So, yeah. Luckily he cared not about looking at a
woman's nude body, but it would've been awkward if he still
considered this particular soul his mother.
"So, why were you sent here?" He sat down and crossed his right
leg over the other, looking like a bad arse king, if he did say so
himself.
Her facial expression changed from confusion to realization, and

confusion once more.
"I… I don't know." She scrunched up her nose. "I remember being hit
by the severing curse… and dying…" She swallowed here. Hard.
Before she released a shuddering breath and continued. "I
remember a cloaked person guiding me to a train station - similar to
platform 9 ¾ actually - and… oh god… I'm dead! And my clothes! Oh
god!"
She was hysteric now, as if she had only just realized she was dead
- and naked. It made Marcaunon roll his eyes, inward of course. It
would not do to be caught rolling his eyes - especially not by Death,
who would tell his son, who would lecture him about how inelegant it
was. That, he would definitely gain a headache from.
"Yes." He cut through her random bubbling, his voice sharp and
commanding. "You are dead, Lily Potter. I dislike repeating myself,
but I shall do so since I am in a good mood; why were you sent
here? Only those that have done many evil deeds are to be brought
here."
"Y-you are… Death?" She stared at him fearfully, and shifted slightly
backwards, her arms and hands trying to cover up her woman bits.
"What do you think, mortal?" He smiled, showing off his sharpened

canines. "Will you answer my question, or will we continue having a
discussion about my identity?"
"S-sorry. I don't know. I really don't know!"
He sighed inaudibly under his breath. How troublesome. What would

Death gain by bringing her here? He narrowed his eyes a little,
unknowingly making Lily Potter's breath hitch at how similar he
looked to a certain Dark Lord in her universe.
"Don't you have a son?"
Instantaneously, Lily Potter's meek disposition changed, and she

snarled at him fiercely. It made him blink owlish at her rather 180
attitude.
"Leave him alone! It is not his time yet, and if I have anything to do
with it, won't be anytime soon!"
His heart sped up slightly, and he touched his chest lightly. He

frowned in confusion at the unknown emotion he was feeling. He
shrugged the emotion away and smirked at her, wanting to agitate
her more. Perhaps his mood would improve upon the misery of
others?
"But why?" He gave her an innocent smile. "He's the child of

prophecy isn't he? I would love to meet him! Besides, he could help
you remember."
"So what if he's the child of prophecy!? I shan't allow you to touch
him! Bringing him here will do you no good."
Marcaunon tilted his head to the side curiously. "Why are you so
willing to give your life up for him? Do you not fear death, little girl?"
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, before she straightened her back, her
eyes never leaving his. The words that came out of her mouth were
so full of love and determination, that Marcaunon knew he believed
her.
"Because he is my son, and I love him. I'll do anything for him, and if
I have to die for him to live, then I will welcome death with open
arms."
"Are all Lilys like this?" He murmured to himself, and for once,
thought back to his own mother, who had gave up her life for him. He
closed his eyes, and suddenly, wanted to meet his mother. Would
the Lily Potter from his original universe love him? Even though he
had become so corrupt?
"Before you go," He started, his eyes still closed, thus missing Lily's
startled look at being addressed after a period of silence. "will you
answer a question of mine?"
She hesitated, but nodded her head. When he noticed that he could
not see her due to his eyes being closed, she gave an affirmative.
"Hypothetically speaking, if your son grew into a twisted man with a

dream of killing all the Pa-Muggles in the world, would you still love
him? Support his ambition? Will you still stand by his side as he
tortured, killed, and commit all the evils in the world?"
The office grew silent, and after five minutes of no answer,

Marcaunon sighed and opened his eyes - feeling quite disappointed
without knowing why. His heart had gone cold, and he wondered if
he was catching something. The sight that greeted him made him
startle, and he almost toppled over Death's chair when all he could
see was Lily Potter's face, only a few centimeters away from his.
She had a concentrated look on her face, and before he could

demand for her to leave his personal space, she gave him a blinding
smile. It confused him how she could smile like that in his presence.
"I will stand by his side. He is my son, and as his mother, it is my

duty to always be there for him. Besides, no matter what kind of
person he may turn out to be, I know that he will make the correct
choices in life, and if he wishes to wipe out all the Muggles, he
must've had a good reason. I believe in him."
His eyes softened and he gave her a small, yet very true, smile.
"Thank you for your honesty, Lily Potter. If I could, I would loved to
have met your alternate self - my mother. Thank you for sacrificing
your life for me, even if it was another you."
He saw her eyes widened and as her lips parted as if to speak, but
he snapped his fingers, transferring her to the reincarnation realm,
where her soul would be reincarnated. He ran a hand through his
hair, feeling grateful at Death for having brought the soul of Lily
Potter - even if it's another Lily Potter - to him.
"How was the encounter, Master?" Death said from behind of him.
"… Alright. It was alright."
"You're smiling, my Master." At Death's words, Marcaunon brought

his fingers to touch his lips, which was curved upwards into a smile.
Death's hand covered his, and his chin was tilted upwards so that he
was staring into Death's familiar emerald green eyes. "It's lovely. I do
wish you would smile more often though."
He laughed, feeling quite elated from the experience and Death's

compliment.
"Thank you, Death." And he just knew that the entity knew that his
gratitude was not only for the compliment, but also having let him
talk to a Lily Potter who was also a mother, yet not at the same time.
"You're very much welcome, Master." He was pulled to stand at

Death's side, and he felt those slender arms around his waist. "Shall
we head back?"
He nodded as he rested his head on his companion's chest. With

that, the two disappeared from Death's realm, and reappeared at
Marcaunon's office, Chaos already waiting there for them with
crossed arms.
His son only raised a questioning brow, but before he could babble
out an excuse, Chaos had had his arms wrapped around Marcaunon
for a hug. He, without question, returned said hug.
When they parted, his teenage son handed him a wrapped package
with the wording Happy Mother's Day . He blinked the wetness from
his eyes and grinned at his boy.
"Happy Mother's day, Mom. Thanks for bringing me into this world.
Now that I'm older, I'll be the one to take care of you."
Marcaunon did not reply his son, he only wrapped his arms tightly
around Chaos, and if his son's uniform was a little wet, he blamed it
on the rain - even though they were indoors.
A/N: Here's the Mother's Day special! I give my thanks to Silence
of Sorrow and suntan140 for reminding me about this special
occasion!
Yeah! That was… Wow, I rushed through this special because I

totally forgot about it! Hopefully it turned out well.
Story recommendation for today: Hermione Doesn't Make

Mistakes by ColorMeMonochrome. Hermione made a potion for
Harry for him to be teleported to his 'True love' or 'Equal partner'.
Harry thought it was Ginny, and thinking that it would've been a great
Christmas present, brewed it with Hermione (well, he only watched).
He should've taken note of his Potter luck though. He was
transported back to time, where his TRUE 'Equal partner' was. Time
Travel, TMR/HP. This is a new fic, so it has little chapters. Give it a
chance though. I wholly enjoyed it.
Rainbows and Mothers,
GenderlessPerson
Chapter 21
crumbling, you could either choose to foolishly continue onward, or
turn back and change paths. Harry decided on the latter. MoD!Harry
Main Pairing: LV/HP (Voldemort/Marcaunon)
Warnings: AU, Time-travel, Universe Hopping, New Identities,

Slash, MoD!Harry, Killings/Torture, Mentions of rape/abuse, INCEST
relationships everywhere
Disclaimer: If I were the author of Harry Potter, Dumbles would've

choked on a lemon drop and died miserably. So no, I do not own
Harry Potter.
A /N: Though some of you may have expected this to be more of a

HP/Bleach crossover chapter, my brain farted and I decided to cut it
short. The main focus of this chapter is the bond between Chaos and
Marcaunon rather than my original plan of them having a vacation
with the Bleach characters and bringing back a weapon of mass
destruction to blow apart the Resident Evil dimension. Please do not
skip this, because this will be important for character development
and plot. There are some unimportant parts that you may skip
regarding the explanation of Souls and Spirits of the Bleach
universe, but other than that… I will slap you silly if you do skip the
important bits!
I apologize for the 1-year delay in updating. But hey, at least I

managed, right? Hahaha… I'm so sorry! Let me apologize with a
dogeza! m(_ _)m
Marvolo had a dark smile (hidden by his fingers) the moment he

heard the satisfying sound of wood smacking wood. The fact that
they were finally free from prying eyes the second the doors of his
bedchamber slammed shut was something he cherished every day.
Privacy was truly a hard thing to find these days - even in his own
manor - when everything he did was keenly observed with awe/fear
by his ever-growing band of followers.
The sound also indicated that this was high time for him to stop
playing the part of giving the highest form of rewards in the form of
pleasuring others.
Although… this was something hard to obtain since he hated the

thought of touching someone unworthy of him, even for a short
while.
His companion in bed for tonight, Abraxas, was looking at him with
excitement that was borderline disturbing. It was revolting how eager
these people were to have a taste of him - yet he also felt extremely
dominating that his appearance alone was enough to intoxicate
someone to lose control of themselves.
With a playful smirk that made the blonde's eyes dilate with desire,
he tilted the Malfoy Lord's chin to forcefully establish eye contact, all
the while his thumb moved in circles as if to relax his partner for the
night.
It took no longer than a minute before the blond was put into his
control. Abraxas became dazed, and as soon as Marvolo's fingers
had left the man's chin, he fell onto the bed with a soft thump -
similar to a puppet who had their strings cut.
A snap of his fingers later made a few adult toys appear beside of
the blonde. They were all situated for males more than females.
"Pleasure yourself to exhaustion." Was all he said as he made his

way to his secondary desk, clothes already on his person.
It was with practiced ease that he ignored his ex- classmate's
wanton moaning in order to stare at the two photos of his… family
members.
The one with the both of them in one frame was his current favorite.
The two younger Gaunts were whispering to one another secretly,
tiny smiles on their faces, before they turned to wave at him cutely.
Without being aware of his actions, he caressed their cheeks as he

thought of them - mainly; how to meet them without scaring them off.
He knew he was intimidating.
The younger of the two, Marchosias, wouldn't be much of a problem

since he was still young (easily manipulated by sweets and smiles),
so perhaps having an accidental encounter would be best. A bump in
the road would lead to many other pathways.
But time was also not on his side - like so many others.
He knew he had to act fast because of the latest call. Marcaunon

was in a bad state when they had first met in that horrible yet
realistic dream, and if he had unintentionally activated the call a
second time with such broken and empty eyes…
Marvolo's eyebrows knitted as he stared unseeingly at the moving

photo.
Date: Unknown
Location: Unknown
Dimension: Anime - Bleach
This dimension was truly interesting. Marcaunon pushed his rose-

tinted glasses up (and made them glint menacingly when it reflected
the lights at the right angle) as he hid a small smile with his fingers.
After they had gotten mixed and tangled up with their currently
unknown company, the three of them were brought to a decent
enough candy store - Urahara Shoten, the sign had read - but not
before being thoroughly amused at the drama that had unfolded atop
the magic flying blanket-carpet thing.
It seemed that one of the teenagers had been manipulated badly by

the blonde haired man wearing a bucket hat and the latter had
bowed his head low and apologized. He didn't quite catch what the
topic was about, but he didn't really care to ask.
All he cared about at that moment of time was that he had witnessed
a Japanese dogeza after hearing so much about it from Death. It
was brilliant.
For now, they were currently seated around a low table, and it was
beyond crowded. Chaos was taking it all well (what with his phobia)
as he was on his godfather's lap, his hair being petted as if to calm
the lad down.
Whilst the room was silent from all the awkwardness, Marcaunon
took the opportunity to stare studiously at the hot drink that had been
prepared for him and the other guests - or to be more precise, his
eyes had not once strayed from the odd Japanese cup that had no
handles. Somehow, he thought it cute and decided to snitch a few
before returning back to their original dimension. It was also
Slytherin green so that was a plus into making Chaos turn a blind
eye.
It was a moment of intense staring later that he decided that he

should drink his tea to not be rude to his hosts.
With a tentative sip of his drink (green tea, he hummed in his mind)
he swirled it around his mouth for a minute or so before swallowing.
No poison detected.
As he looked up to give a signal that it was safe for them to drink, he
blinked owlishly when he saw that everyone was staring at him in a
peculiar manner.
"Is something the matter?" He raised a questioning brow.
Chaos was the first one to look away, his nose wrinkled adorably as
he sipped his tea ("no juice" "it's very bitter-" "no. juice."), not at all
hiding his disappointment at Marcaunon for playing around with his
tea.
He resisted the urge to blow his son a raspberry - he didn't want to

listen to another one of his 'act your age' lectures.
Death was the second person to look way. Its face was a cold
indifference… to people who don't know It, anyway. That petty party
of a deity was laughing at him.
How rude!
Sometimes, he honestly wondered if he was truly Its master. What

with how often he was bullied by his so called servant.
And he was only checking for poison (amongst other stuff)! Honest.
The third person to look away… was actually not a person. It was the
black cat that sounded like a perverted old man. And the cat had
snorted.
An animal. Had snorted. At him.
Somehow, Marcaunon found that awfully charming.
Cats are love. Cats are life. Cats are justice.
Why won't Death transform into a cat? It has always converted into a
dull and bland black mamba. Sure the form was intimidating, but if It
were a cat, Marcaunon wouldn't have evaded his paperwork so
desperately. Bloody hell, he would even sit on his arse obediently
and sign everything diligently for twenty straight hours… on the
condition of allowing him to pet and cuddle with It anytime he
wanted, of course.
"Nah. That's not it." The first person to speak up was the orange
haired teenager that was garbed in a black shihakushō (if he was not
wrong, the direct translation was Garment of Dead Souls) and was
armed with a huge butcher knife strapped to his back. He frowned a
lot as well. "You won't die after drinking his tea - but you'll die if you
eat his food."
Blunt with a sense of humor. Marcaunon decided that he liked this

Mortal.
"How mean, Kurosaki-san!"
The blond that was wearing the ugly white and green bucket hat
pouted, his cheeks puffed out as he playfully glared at the teen.
Kurosaki shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, his eyes moving from

Mort to Chaos and back to Marcaunon.
"So who're you guys? You don't seem dead to me."
"That's good because I don't seem dead to me too. Well, since we all
don't know each other, I think an introduction is in order. I'm Gaunt
Marcaunon. This is me adorable baby boy Marchosias. And this here
is my beloved long-time partner Mort. Since our names are hard to
be pronounced by the Japanese tongue, I'll allow you to shorten our
names to Marc and Chaos. Better than to completely butcher our
names otherwise."
He smiled his Hufflepuff smile as he introduced them, not at all

noticing how his words and expression don't match.
"Right. Then, Marc-san -"
Marcaunon was quick to interrupt.

"Please drop the honorifics. We're foreigners so it sounds weird."
"Very well~!" Bucket-head snapped out a fan, using the tip to point at
every person whilst he introduced them. "This is Kurosaki Ichigo. His
hair color is natural if you were wondering. Beside him is Ishida
Uryuu. Please don't mind his obsession with the color white. Next is
Orihime Inoue. She's our… important healer. This silent one is
Yasutora Sado. We all call him Chad, though. Yoruichi-san. My
assistant; Tessai. Lastly, I am called Urahara Kisuke, a humble
candy store owner~!"
When he finished with their introductions, Kisuke snapped open his

fan to cover the lower half of his face (a habit?), those shrewd gray
eyes watching them closely.
Whilst the man was busy with that, Marcaunon decided that he
should mentally catalog everything… and turn their names around if
he didn't want to mix everything up.
The orange haired, blunt teen who was always scowling was called
Ichigo Kurosaki. Ichigo. Strawberry? Why? He was also kinda alive.
Maybe. Half-half.
The black haired teen with the central parting and glasses was called
Uryuu Ishida - and he has an obsession with white? A human on the
verge of being Parasitic. Unimportant, even if he was a glasses
buddy.
Inoue Orihime. An adolescent with plenty of chest fats. She was also
the lone girl in their team(?). A human with some kind of healing
power. Hers was the most similar to Magic.
The tallest and buffest high schooler Marcaunon have ever laid eyes
upon was a really quiet one. He has dark skin, and kind eyes which
are usually blocked by his curly dark brown hair - Sado Yasutora,
who everyone calls Chad. A Mexican-Japanese mix. A human with a
mixture of a spirit's powers.
Yoruichi. The black cat with sharp golden eyes. Cute, but has the
voice of an old man. Cats are justice. Also a spirit with incredible
powers.
For Tessai, he was a large, muscular, (very) tall man with a blue
apron and weird hairdo. Marcaunon was deeply impressed by
Tessai's rectangular shaped glasses. He has always had a
fascination with glasses. In fact, they were now glasses buddy (in his
head only, though)!
Last of all, Kisuke Urahara. The blonde with a weird sense of

fashion. From his bucket hat to his wooden Japanese sandals. Also,
a humble(?) shopkeeper, apparently. The strongest spirit in this
room.
That should be everyone for now.
With a bright smile that could put the sun to shame (Death's words,
not his) Marcaunon decided that since they were currently on a
family trip, he should quickly find the cause of Death's sudden need
to work from here so that they could enjoy the rest of the year away.
"Yess yess. Pleasure to meet everyone and all that - not to be rude
or anything, but we're kind of in a hurry. Have any of you seen a
hazardous tiny round object that could potentially destroy the world if
misused by a dangerous person around?"
The air took a turn for the worse and the room became filled with
tension. Marcaunon was, to be expected, confused at the sudden
180 change of their hosts. The teenagers all became suspicious of
them whilst Kisuke and the cat looked ready to slit Marcaunon's
throat.
He felt the two emit their Magical pressure(?) mixed with killing
intent, and it appeared to be suffocating the teens. Judging by their
reactions, they were unused to such things.
Marcaunon's scarlet orbs landed on Chaos - who was pre-occupied
with drinking his tea, a bored expression on his childish face, and
Death who was tying pigtails with Chaos's hair.
He was unable to hold back his laughter but was quick to cover it up
by forcing a few coughs.
Looks like he need not worry about his little boy. The… energy was
heavy like gravity was pushing down on them, but it was easily
ignored by the three of them. Rather, it wasn't even worth noting.
Was this a butchered version of Death's Magic? It seemed similar,
but different as well.
It was as if it had evolved in a totally different direction.
Hm. It was better to be safe than sorry.
"Chaos dear," He cooed/hissed in Parseltongue, his smile not

wavering even when Kisuke instantly had his sword out and the tip
just a few centimeters away from beheading Marcaunon. "There will
be no usage of Magic from now on. This would be too easy,
otherwise - although your safety will be prioritized and not
jeopardized."
"Duly noted, mother." Chaos dear replied whilst refilling his cup.
Why was his son such a tea fanatic?
"I would advise that the two of you speak in a language that we all
understand." The cat, Yoruichi, casually threatened, their tail flicking
from left to right in irritation.
"Ah! Please accept my apologies, neko-chan (cat). I often fall back

into the habit of speaking my native tongue when I'm at a loss of
what to say. My dear son only reprimanded me for it."
"Haah? Don't take us for fools -"

"Is this really the right time?" Chaos butted in, interrupting neko-chan
quite suddenly. "They're dying."
Everyone turned to the direction of where Chaos was pointing.
Three of the four teenagers have already reached their limit and had
passed out, with the last one breathing heavily as he glared daggers
into Kisuke's head.
The blonde smiled sheepishly and the pressure he and the cat
emitted were snuffed out instantaneously. He was also back to his
seat with a paper fan in hand, covering the lower half of his face yet
again. His sword may have looked like it had disappeared from sight,
but with his seeker-trained eyes, he saw Kisuke sheathe it into his
cane.
"Fuck! I seriously thought we were going to die! What the hell was
that for, Urahara?! Yoruichi?!" Ichigo cursed as he stood on shaky
legs. Tessai stood along with him, and they both silently agreed to
carry the three unconscious teens out of the room and back to their
homes.
Just before they left, however, Ichigo threatened to beat Kisuke into
a bloody pulp if he ever did that to his friends ever again, which had
the man sweating bullets as he laughed shakily.
When they were finally gone, the blonde's focus was once again on
Marcaunon. He had to wonder if they had somehow forgotten
Death's existence - which wasn't unusual since death was literally
everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Poor Death… who was happily playing with Chaos's hair - which was
currently being braided by skillful fingers.
… Arsehole. Just be forgotten already, you bloody wanker-
He was nudged by the very wanker he was cursing, and he turned to

see his two hosts awaiting something from him.
"Hm? Oh my. Would it be rude for me to ask you to repeat that? I
was lost in my head, you see?"
He gave them an apologetic smile as he made a grab for his cup, but
due to his vindictive nature, had accidentally knocked over the cup
and spilled it all over Death's robes (Chaos wasn't hit, if anyone was
wondering!).
Fufufufufu!
POV: Marchosias
He stared at the cat (animagus?) with unfocused eyes as his mother

smiled his signature scary closed eye smile. Marchosias, now
reluctantly known as Chaos by this world's inhabitants, was lost in
his thoughts, wondering how on earth his godfather had transported
them to another realm.
He knew it was theoretically impossible.
The only possible thing about world transportation is via time travel,
reincarnation, or alternate universes. Which, to his detached
amusement, he fell into all three categories.
He had traveled back at least four decades from his original timeline,
died and reincarnated into someone different, all the while there was
secretly another him traversing around.
It was kind of funny in a wry way.
Also, he seriously needed to confront his mother. The man held too
many secrets. And too many secrets can cause their relationship to
go sour. He ignored his own hypocrisy and contemplated how to get
his mother to open up.
As he mulled over his hypotheses, he absentmindedly played with

the nearest thing in his reach - which was, unfortunately, the cat's tail
(that felt similar to his cat onesie, to be truthful). He wrapped it
around his wrist before he unwinded and used it as a makeshift quill.
He wrote invisible theories using the tip of the cat's tail, and
eventually, was pulled back into reality when he noticed the lack of
ongoing conversations.
He peered up from his eyelashes and raised a brow in askance

when he saw everyone staring at him. Somehow, this scenario
seemed similar.
"What? Is there something on my face?" He patted his face using his

free hand, wondering if there were any leftover tea residue around
his lips.
"Not at all." His mother sounded amused, and he was patted on the
head like some silly child. It made him scowl.
It was degrading and he felt insulted to be treated like a little kid -

dutifully ignoring the fact that he currently was a little kid.
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his mother but abruptly

yawned. Curse this body!
"As you can see, Kisuke, it's past my son's bedtime." Mother stood
up with unmatched grace. It always amazed him how his mother
could act so contradictive and so… natural all the time. "If you will
excuse us, I think it's time we take our leave."
"Maa maa, why not stay the night, Marc?" Kisuke smiled brightly at
his own idea and continued to talk as if they had already agreed to
his suggestion. "Tessai will prepare the rooms. We can finish our
discussion after we've all rested. Your son already looks dead on his
feet."
"A room is enough. We usually sleep together, anyway."
"Then everything's settled." Yoruichi, the black cat, agreed.

If cats could leer, he would be leering right about now as he stared at
Marchosias with a mischievous look in his eyes.
"Although you would have to release my tail first, young one, even if
it's too fluffy to resist - it is a part of me, after all, and I've been told
I'm simply irresistible."
As soon as his brain processed those words, he released said tail

from the confines of his hand as if burnt. He shot a glare at his own
appendage, feeling betrayed that his body was actually behaving
similarly to the child he appeared to be - for example, grabbing the
most fluffy, or toy-like thing nearest to him. He was seventy-seven, a
grown man, for Merlin's sake!
He didn't notice as he was being carried off to who knows where by

who knows who, his exhaustion finally catching up to him, yet his
mind stayed firmly on the subject of brewing an aging potion as soon
as humanly possible. A permanent aging potion more preferably.
But first; sleep. His young body can't handle any more of this.
When he came to, he was snuggled in between his godfather and

mother, his clothes already changed into a onesie by you-know-who.
Mother was wearing a baggy white shirt (only), and Mort slept
without showing an ounce of skin - even his face was covered with a
mask. The usual.
What was unusual was Marcaunon not covering his scars with
glamours. He felt a warm and bubbly sensation spreading across his
chest, and he smiled as he softly patted his mother's scarred cheek
lovingly.
It felt… amazing to be trusted by the man he cherished.
The warmness was soon ruined by the urge to yawn - and yawn he
did. It made his eyes water, and when he stretched as he sat up, the
two adult's arms on his torso fell to his lap.
Still, in a daze, he made the two hands on his lap interlock with one
another as he slipped out of bed, the pitter patter of his feet moving
away and out of the room.
Since he was unfamiliar with this place, he decided that it wouldn't

hurt to explore - it was one of his habits to secure as many
emergency escape routes just in case.
He stopped by the closest room and without much thought, slid open
the door to get a glimpse of what was inside.
What he saw made him wide-awake.
Kisuke was… having some fun with a beautiful woman he did not
recognize but felt familiar - the energy she has, that is. Whilst they
were distracted by each other, he closed the door and ran away
without looking back retreated.
Perhaps he should have a destination in mind - the kitchen,

preferably, to avoid such a thing ever again.
His stomach agreed with him, so he pitter-pattered everywhere until

he landed in front of the kitchen, where Tessai, the shopkeeper's
assistant, was busy with making breakfast.
He minds not the man and went straight towards the coffee machine,
staring at it with drool accumulating inside of his mouth.
It took all of his self-control to not levitate a stool so he could stand

on it and brew some coffee.
As if reading his mind, Tessai brought forth a stepping stool (why did
they have one?) and nodded when Marchosias politely thanked the
man.
For the first time in years, he was finally brewing his own cup of
coffee.
Hogwarts was filled with ambient Magic, so any technology brought
into the castle would malfunction - or explode.
He may hate Muggles, but their inventions were seriously missed by

him - especially the tools they invented when it came to brewing
divine coffee. A coffee machine was enough excuse for him to allow
some Muggles to live. He just needed to cut down on their numbers
a little. They breed like cockroaches, anyway.
As soon as his coffee was brewed just the way he liked it, he shoved
the thoughts of mass genocide to the back of his mind in order to
inhale the aroma of his drink, simply wanting to enjoy this moment
where he could pretend that he was back in his adult body of Lord
Voldemort.
Perfect.
"Why are we here?"
"Why should we not be here, little one?"
"You're not a high school student, dad. And I'm not old enough for
high school."
"But your uniform does fit, doesn't it?"
"It does, but it still doesn't answer my question as to why exactly are
we pretending to be students."
"Then do you want me to send you to a daycare?"
"Where's Mort?"
"You're changing the subject, sweetheart."
"I want to see Mort in uniform."

"… Brilliant idea, my genius of a son! Mort! Mort, come out! I know
you're there."
"… Little Lord…"
"If I have to suffer through this bullcrap, you'll go down with me,
Mort."
So here they were, half an hour later, in front of a classroom where

the homeroom teacher was telling the students that there would be
transfers attending.
Most of the students were looking with interest, confusion, and love-
struck eyes at Marcaunon, Marchosias, and Mort, respectively.
Marcaunon searched for the Mortals he knew behind his rose-tinted

glasses, a little disappointed that he wasn't able to see all of their
reactions because three of them weren't here - the teacher said
something about how they rushed out to go to the toilet.
He let his Magic poke the dark haired teen, Uryuu, but didn't get any
reaction at all, which made him wonder what had happened for the
teen to have lost his powers overnight.
And since he has already lost his powers somehow, that made him a
Parasite. And Parasites should be ignored.
With that in mind, he smiled fakely at everyone as he introduced

himself. It was time to be a Hufflepuff again.
"Hello. I am called Marcaunon Gaunt, or Gaunt Marcaunon here in

Japan. I'm not too familiar with the culture, so please excuse and
correct me if I had not done something correctly. Pleased to meet
your acquaintances."
"Gaunt Marchosias. A pleasure."
"Gaunt Mort. Don't touch me. Don't come near me. Lest you wish to
die a gruesome death."
Well, that was nice of Death to warn them. Since the entity was
showing far more skin than usual in Its uniform - which, by the way,
made It look so human.
They were currently posing as brothers, and since Chaos was

obviously too young to be in high school, he would be playing the
genius who skipped grades - which was an easy role since Voldie
would have breezed through high school.
There were a lot of questions thrown their way, and Marcaunon

made it so that he would be seen as a really friendly guy by
answering everything (with lies of course!). Not that hard since his
son was anti-social and his servant just was not as interested in
interacting with the living.
The day passed by just like that. It was super boring. He seriously
wanted to torture a Parasite to elevate his boredom.
As soon as school ended, Death excused Itself and disappeared -

probably to speak to Its minion that was in charge of this dimension.
With a shrug at little Chaos, they walked out of school and into a
five-star hotel nearby. He preferred not to be in the presence of
people who were too nosy for their own good. AKA; Kisuke and his
lot.
He transfigured some leaves into a bundle of cash and told the

receptionist that their stay in the hotel's most expensive suite was for
an indefinite amount of time - a year if he estimated the amount
correctly, which he did.
The worker looked incredibly happy and they were treated as VVIPs.
The days passed by slowly, and only Marcaunon was left with
nothing to do but rot away in the hotel room.
Mana and Suki were cuddling away near the windowsill, absorbing
the heat from the sunlight and he would loathe to disturb their
tranquility.
Chaos was busy with exploring the town alone, and Death was busy
with his job.
He. Was. Bored!
So he made it a duty for him to mess around as much as possible.

Helping Hollows (corrupted spirits that hunger for souls, be it living or
deceased) and killing Parasites just for the heck of it.
He also found out that there were two types of spirits in this
dimension.
Plus Souls were ordinary human spirits. They have a chain on their
chest, and if it were to disappear or be pulled out, they would turn
into a corrupt spirit. He would know since he did that every time he
saw a Plus Soul.
The second type was Hallows. Corrupt spirits that used to be Plus
Souls, but had overstayed their welcome in the human realm. Their
chains gradually disappear and when there was nothing left, a hole
would appear on their chest and they become Hallows.
There was also three types of 'realms' in this dimension.
The human realm - where humans live.
Hueco Mundo - where Hallows live.
Soul Society - where Plus Souls and soul reapers live.
Yes, soul reapers.
Not Death's minions, though.
Soul reapers were guardians of sorts to souls. They purify Hollows

and ensure the safe crossing of Plus Souls into Soul Society by
giving them a soul burial - where they simply just stamp the Plus
Soul's forehead with the butt of their swords and they become a
butterfly that disappears to Soul Society.
To put it simply; Death's minion, the Soul King, trained some Plus
Souls and called them soul reapers. So that they could do his job for
him.
What a lazy yet creative bloke!
Marcaunon also found out that the spirits here do not have Magic.
They have Reiryoku (Spiritual Power). Every spiritual being and
every single human have a certain amount of it. If they were born
with a shite ton of Reiyoku, they were basically cheats with
superhuman abilities.
Or to put it more easily… Living humans with above-average

Reiyoku can see ghosts, though it is but a small percentage of them.
Anyway, being alone in the hotel suite was too boring.
Time to move.
It was an hour into his stroll that he heard something interesting.
"He's trying to create real Arrancar by using Hougyoku."
Marcaunon snapped his fingers with an exclamation of 'Ah!' - as if he

remembered something important that he had somehow forgotten
(not for the first time), causing the two soul reapers to turn to his
direction sharply.
"Who's there?!" The man with a goatee barked out, those familiar
eyes of his scanning the shadows of the alleyway where Marcaunon
was in.
"… Hey." As he slowly emerged from the darkness, Kisuke's eyes

widened with an emotion he couldn't identify because of how excited
he currently was. "You said something about Hougyoku. That's the
tiny thing I was looking for. Can I… steal some of your time?"
His grin was bloodthirsty as he looked directly into the man's eyes-
"Mother, where are we?"
Chaos was confused as he looked around the place - a desert.
"The place where our prize is located at, of course!" He chirped, his
smile sharp and full of teeth. "It looks like this." He whipped out a
fake orb and cackled like a super villain.
His little boy wagged a finger at him, looking unimpressed and a little
irritated. He complied and squatted in front of Chaos without
hesitation.
"Really. At least clean the blood off your face." Was said as his son
wiped the left side of his cheek.
"So dependable! Thanks, love." His grin softened into a fond smile
as he kissed his little boy's forehead in thanks. "We need to keep
this a secret from De- Mort, okay?"
Chaos frowned at the slipped, but Marcaunon pretended to be

oblivious. Out of mind. Out of mind.
"Under one condition."
Urk. Marcaunon's smile grew stiff as he stood up to stretch his back,

trying to buy some time.
"I'll hear it out."
"No. You have to agree to it first."
He pursed his lips as he thought it through. Reading Chaos wasn't

easy. The other Gaunt was devious, and if he agreed blindly, even
he wouldn't be able to get out of it easily.
But…
He sighed.
This was his child.
Marchosias should have the right to know more about him, right? It
was only natural for a child to be curious about their parent's
mysterious past.
And the secrets he held were heavy. For once, Marcaunon wanted to
be truthful to his boy - his blood.
"Alright. Just one, though."
"Tell me all about your past. And try not to trick your way out. I want -
no, I need to know what happened to make you the man you are
now."
"That…"
"I will never shun you. I swear it. I will never reject you. So, please,
tell me. I need to know, momma."
Momma, huh? Chaos was getting good at pulling his heart-strings.
… It hurts.
Was Death right? Was it alright for him to move forward? Was it
alright for him to open his heart and let another person in?
"I don't want you to come to hate me - and I know that you will."
He had once been his son's killer, after all.
"Never. I had promised myself long ago that I will never hurt you,
momma - be it physically, mentally, or emotionally."
They stood in silence, the wind howling in their ears as they stared
each other down, both of them wanting the other to submit.
Marcaunon was the first to look away, and Chaos knew that he had
won this round.
A table was conjured, along with two armchairs. Marcaunon bought

some time by preparing some snacks and tea with the ingredients he
has in his trunk, and Marchosias allowed him all the time he needed
to put his thoughts together.
When everything was prepared, they both seated themselves at the

opposite side facing each other, a cup (the Japanese one he had
snitched) of tea in their respective hands.
"Listen and don't interrupt, Marchosias. If you have questions, I will

answer them to the best of my abilities afterward. Will you at least
give me your word on that?"
"Yess. You have my word, momma."
Marcaunon looked down at his cup of tea, his nerves making him
nibble on his lower lip. And then he began. He wasn't able to stop as
the words left his lips and shameful tears gradually formed in his
eyes.
"It all begun with a boy and a man. They were both brought up in
different times, by different people, and different environmental
situations - but they were, nevertheless, completely alike. They
were… destined for greatness. But the price for that greatness was
their happiness. And possibly their sanity as well.
"The boy was raised to be many things. A slave. A sacrificial lamb. A

lion without claws. A chess piece.
"Before he was even born, he was already picked by fate. A cruel

destiny that he did not wish for. By the time he was one, his parents
had been killed by a man who had lost his sight of everything but
magic and was soon taken by an ambitious elderly who thought of
him as nothing but a tool for his own outdated goals.
"The boy grew up in an abusive household. His uncle would always
try to 'beat the magic' out of him and have never once called him by
his name. No, that was wrong. The boy had always thought that his
name was Freak. His aunt would force him to do endless amounts of
chores, and if he had failed to complete them by the end of the day,
he was not given any food. Water and stale bread were all he ate as
he grew up. That was all the boy ever tasted for ten years.
"The boy's cousin, a pampered fat kid that was far too young to think
for himself, and could only imitate his parents, created a game. A
game he played with his friends to hunt the boy down and make his
already miserable life hell. The moment they catch him, he would be
beaten black and blue. Every vase, every plate, and every toy his
cousin breaks, a bone will be broken as his punishment by his uncle.
"He matured faster than the kids his age, but his body grew slower
due to the lack of care his relatives gave him. The boy was a fast
learner, though. He knew from books that family wasn't suppose to
act like this. His mind was asking questions as to what he did to
deserve this. He tried to be a good boy. But… They just wanted him
dead. Clouded with sadness and anger, the boy swore revenge.
"The boy had already planned ahead of time. Where the moment he
was able to survive by himself was the moment he would kill his
relatives and run away. Maybe find someone who will take care of
his needs - they don't even have to be in his age group. His vengeful
streak grew the older he became. Magic helped in keeping him from
being found out, but he got punished anyway. That was apparently
his life in a nutshell.
"That was the boy's childhood. It all changed when he reached the
age of eleven. He was introduced into the astounding world of
Magic. He was out of the frying pan… and he unknowingly jumped
right into the burning flames.
"The boy had always been smart. He held no trust in the human
race. His first friend was an owl. A beautiful white owl that he
received as his first ever present. He told the owl everything. The owl
never judged him.
"Before he was sorted with everybody, the elderly had personally

come for him and brought the boy to his office. The boy was guarded
and suspicious, but because he did not know anything of Magic, he
fell into the elderly's webs.
"He was read like an open book. His personality, his attitude, his
cruelness, his lack of faith - everything had been read by the elderly.
And the elderly wasn't pleased because he grew up to be too similar
to the man. The boy was forced into eating some kind of lemon
candy, and then his very being was altered.
"The boy became kind. He became naive and full of trust. He was
sorted into Gryffindor because of his courage and bravery. Because
he would rather save others than himself.
"His friends were privately picked for him without him being aware.
His future spouse had been chosen for him without his
acknowledgment - many contracts had been signed without him
knowing. Everything he did, was what the elderly wanted. He was a
puppet. And as if his whole life was a play, he was blindly controlled
by the strings. And he thought it was all him.
"The boy trusted the elderly's words as if the elderly was Merlin
himself. He questioned nothing. He worshiped the ground the elderly
walked on. He was blinded by happiness at having been praised that
he did not notice how the elderly had been disturbed by the boy's
lack of guilt for having burnt someone to death at the tender age of
eleven.
"During his second year, he met someone. A memory, they had said.
The person he met was just like him. Alone. Abused. Wicked. They
even look alike, you see? The only major differences was their
height and eye color.
"The boy had the brightest green eyes that many compared to the
Killing Curse, whilst the other had a lovely shade of red for eyes - the
color the boy secretly compared to blood. It was at the moment when
they were alone under Hogwarts - the Chambers - that the
compulsion placed on the boy broke. He screamed, he raged, he
cried, as his memories returned. Of how he was being forced to be a
puppet by the puppetmaster.
"The other tried to help, but the headmaster appeared with his
phoenix. He altered the boy's memory yet again, and as soon as the
headmaster hid within the shadows, the boy became a lion once
more. The other tried to make the boy remember, but the boy merely
thought those words lies and stabbed the other with the fang of a
basilisk.
"The memory, no, the soul of the other vanished, but the boy
remembered. He remembered clearly how the other had reached for
him and whispered not to trust the elderly. Those words stayed, even
after having his memories altered time and time again. The boy was
only twelve when he destroyed someone's soul permanently.
"Time passed by just like that, with the boy growing up with many
magical bindings and restrictions - his mind splitting into two; the
golden boy whenever he was in the presence of his puppetmaster,
and the lonely child who wanted to break free of his chains but was
not able to.
"It was during his fourth year in the Magical world when he managed
to break free of his latest compulsions. He dreaded and feared to go
to Hogwarts. He wanted to run away from his Muggle relatives. He
wanted to run away from the headmaster - the elderly. He wanted to
run away from the man who hunted him because of a prophecy.
"But… Where can the boy run to? He was a freak to Muggles. He
was a puppet hero to Light Magicals. He was an eyesore to Dark
Magicals. He was alone, and could only trust himself to protect
himself. Only his owl, his loyal companion, was there as he cried into
her feathers, miserable and tired of living in fear. Days passed by,
and soon… September drew near.
"The boy was then forced to compete in a tournament that had a

high death rate, the elderly already given him a new set of orders for
his kinder personality to break through his true one. He did
everything foolishly, and when he was kidnapped, he was used as
an ingredient to bring back the man - his parents' killer, the only one
who had never lied to him. The one who he could trust to keep his
word.
"The boy was then tortured, laughed at, and humiliated. He

managed to escape but was declared insane by the population. Heh.
After having his head played around by the elderly that much, of
course, he would be insane.
"School was dangerous to the boy. Home was dangerous to the boy.
People were dangerous to the boy. Even his owl had been taken
away from him. The elderly was killed when the boy was sixteen,
going seventeen. But before that, he was given yet another task - to
collect three items. So collect them he did.
"The boy managed well enough with half his magical core bound,
and his head full of compulsions that could make an average
Magical reside permanently in St. Mungo's ward for the mentally ill.
Whilst he collected those items, he destroyed the man's soul one by
one, not knowing that… he was also one of the containers that held
a small portion of the man's soul.
"That piece of soul had combined with the boy's own over the years,
and it would be impossible to remove unless the boy killed himself.
That was what the elderly wanted. That was his first goal - to martyr
himself. His second was the three items.
"Immortality. The man and the elderly had one thing in common, and
that was immortality. The man, not knowing that the boy had
suddenly broken through the elderly's control at the very last
moment of their duel, dug his won grave.
"The boy howled with uncontrolled rage. He roared at the unfairness
of it all. Why was he chosen? Why couldn't everybody leave him be?
Why was fate so cruel to him? Why did his own soul-brother even
want his death?
"The boy's eyes bled crimson at that point of time (though only for a
short moment) due to the man's soul piece's influence, and when the
man was too shocked, the boy managed to kill the man. He relished
in the moment, loving the way the man's body had crumbled away. It
was a short moment before his chest began hurting. And he broke.
"The boy cried, unable to stop as he dug and tried to glue back the
crumbled body of the man. His soul was calling to the man, yearning
to be reunited with the man. But he was gone. The man was already
gone. It was too late. The boy's realization was… too late.
"Everyone congratulated the boy. They praised him. They worshiped

him. They screamed in joy, spat at the man's grave, and laughed as
they celebrated for the peaceful future years to come, free from the
man's tyranny.
"The boy decided to that if he wanted to survive, he needed to act.

He pretended that everything was alright. He pretended to be ok. He
pretended that he was the lion without the claws. He pretended to
love someone he held no feelings for. He pretended to be someone
else that was not him.
"Years. Decades. Time passed by slowly for him. The people closest
to him were the first to find out about his emptiness. They tried to fix
him. To fill him. They failed. They dislike the true him. They hated the
real him. The boy was once again, being played with by fate.
"The boy was exiled. And for the first time in decades, the boy felt
free. He embraced the feeling of being his own man and created
bonds with creatures and people that he had never expected would
be dear to him in the future.
"He created his own island, where race didn't matter. Where blood
didn't matter. Where discrimination wasn't there. Where prejudices
don't exists. Where Light and Dark and everything in between
doesn't matter. Where everyone laughed together as they all
experimented on Muggle inventions so that they could move forward
from their stagnant ways. He loved everyone living on his island, and
the community loved him in return.
"Everyone heard of his island soon enough. Of how advanced and

how dangerous they were. Everyone not on his island wanted his
island. War bloomed. Lives extinguished. Death hovered. The boy
lost everything yet again, but not because he was weak. No. It was
because the Magicals weren't discreet.
"Muggles found Magic. War had already cut their numbers, so when
the war between Muggles and Magicals commenced, Magicals had
already lost so much. It was a one-sided slaughter.
"The boy was the last Magical to survive, and it was no thanks to the
three items that the elderly wanted. The boy was… immortal. He
could not die. The Muggles grew envious. They wanted immortality
as well. Because billions of Muggles were chasing him, the boy was
eventually caught.
"He was experimented on. He was played with. He was slowly losing
himself as other humans, his non-magical counterparts, slowly killed
him without truly killing his him. Every day he prayed to for salvation.
"… Nobody gave that to him. The Earth began to dry up. Muggles
weren't able to reproduce because of all the chemicals they have
used to kill off the Magicals. The air became polluted. The sky turned
blackish green. The ocean dried up. Mother Earth was dying. She
needed Magic to purify everything. Yet Magic denied her. The boy
denied her. He denied her because he grew tired. The earth could
crumble away, for all he cared. Maybe then will the boy meet death.
"The boy was able to escape his prison, and because the Muggles
were slowly dying away, he became the hunter this time around.
Everything in the boy's mind was madness. He wanted nothing but
the blood of Muggles. Those parasitic creatures that took but never
return. They were… are Parasites.
"He hunted them. Toyed with them. Laughed in their faces as he

killed their families in front of them. He loved every second of it. Yet
he also hated every second of it. He hid behind his rose-tinted
glasses, running away from reality. The madness of his own mind
was now his prison.
"Parasites were now scarce, and as they grow older, they become
less determined to live. Lucky them. They were able to escape
anytime they wanted. They were not immortal. The boy had not seen
any Parasites for months. The only companion he has was a
retarded snake that only wanted fat rats. It wasn't a great
conversation partner, but he made due.
"The world was dying… and so was he. He didn't know what to do.
The boy could only stare out from his window, waiting for the Earth to
crumble just like how the man had crumbled. He wanted to crumble.
"But… one day… A being appeared in front of the boy. The being
called Itself Death. And Death had called the boy Its Master. They
both talked, and soon, plans were made. The boy came to know
what Hope felt like.
"Death had moved them to another dimension, and as the boy grew
up there in an orphanage where his main caretaker was Death Itself,
he smiled. For the first time in a long time, the boy felt content.
"The boy grew up, but this time, he was not alone. He had a servant
that was more of his forever companion. He had a soul in his hand
that would one day become his son. He had a lot of Parasites that he
could hunt and one day finally exterminate. And lastly, he had a
name that he knew ever since he first opened his eyes in that new
universe where the sky is blue and the air is fresh.
"The boy's name is Marcaunon Seirios Gaunt. And… The boy…
Me… I… I'm finally able to say that I'm happy to be where I am right
now."
With his head bowed, hair shadowing his face, and his grip on the
cup making his fingers white from the lack of blood circulation, he
waited for Marchosias's response.
The silence was deafening, and the only thing he was capable of
hearing was the blood rushing through his ears as adrenaline was
pumped into his system.
Marcaunon was terrified. What would Marchosias think of him now?

Will he ever be called mother by Marchosias ever again?
He knew that he was a selfish man for wanting happiness after what
he had done. It had all been his fault that his original world had been
on the verge of crumbling. Was this karma? Was he destined to be
unhappy?
Marchosias wasn't stupid. The boy in the story was obviously Harry
Potter. The man was obviously Tom Marvolo Riddle/Lord Voldemort.
The elderly was obviously Albus Dumbledore.
Now, his son knew the truth.
Lord Voldemort knew the truth.
His soul-brother knew the ugly truth.
Big fat tears began to roll down his cheeks, and all he could do was
cry silently, his shoulders slumped and his expression devoid of any
life.
He wanted to crumble away.
He wondered what it felt like… to crumble away.
"Raise your head."

He would not.
So he shook his head, his tears sprinkling down onto the desert floor
and evaporating almost immediately upon contact due to the intense
heat.
He heard a sigh, and couldn't help but flinch as he imagined how

angry, disappointed, disgusted, and irritated Marchosias must be
right now with him.
The sound of clothes rustling against the wind almost made him
raise his head due to how close it had sounded. He resisted and
curled tighter into himself - even bringing up his knees so that his
face was thoroughly covered.
"Look at me."
No.
"Look at me…"
No.
"Look at me!"
No!
"Please… Look at me…"
"Why. Why won't you look at me?"
This was torture.
He would rather Marchosias just shout, scream, and yell at him and
be done with it.
"Are you disappointed in me?"

That immediately made Marcaunon's head snap up, pure horror
written on his tear stricken face.
"No! I have never been disappointed in you! Why did you say that?! I
should be the one to ask you that question!"
"Because you wouldn't look at me!" Was the half-hysteric reply he

received. It caused him to widen his scarlet eyes in shock since he
has never heard Marchosias sound so desperate before. "I… I am
unfamiliar with the ways of comforting others. I don't know what to do
in a situation such as this. After hearing your past, you should clearly
know that I used to be a Dark Lord. The only way I solve my
problems is to get rid of them."
"Are you frustrated?"
"Obviously I am."
Haha. Marchosias was probably thinking of ways to get rid of him.

Marcaunon deserved it.
"I'm frustrated because I caused you cry, again, even though I had
promised myself to never hurt you. I'm also frustrated that the way I
solve my problems won't be effective in regards to you. I may be
inept at the department of emotions, but let me tell you this straight,
you idiot of a parent - you're the same. I suppose we really are alike.
We're both horrible at opening up. Though that can be blamed to our
insecurities; such as how we loathe the thought of disappointing one
another. For I, I would not want to see your smile disappear when I
tell you that I am actually a seventy-seven-year-old man residing
within your son's body. And for you, you did not wish to inform me
that you were the one who had… as much as it pains me to say this,
you were the one who ended my life. Rejoice, you dunderhead,
because as much as I abhor Potter, the feelings of affection I have
for my mother Marcaunon outweighs my hatred for your previous
identity."
He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing - and if it was a little high
pitched and insane, he would pretend to be oblivious to it all!
Everything had been a misunderstanding. They were truly alike.

Their worries were even the same! How foolish. If he had just
listened to Death, he would have been able to get everything out of
his system faster. He truly was a fool. Death would definitely get into
his face and poke his cheeks whilst saying; 'i told you so'.
"Heh. I feel like a fool now. To be lectured by someone who is in a

body of a seven years old and is more emotionally constipated than I
am. How lame."
"Indeed you are a fool. But you are mine. And I take care of what's
mine."
"Possessive."
"I won't deny that."
"Will you continue to be my son?"
"Really, what am I to do with you. Had nothing entered the thing in

between your ears?"
"Ah… Please spare me the lecture I know that will come about my
intellect."
"The things I do for you. Fine. I'll spare the lecture for now. But never
forget this, mother - it matters not that your name used to be Harry
Potter. It matters not that my name used to be Tom Riddle. All that
matters now is that you're now Marcaunon Gaunt, and I am
Marchosias Gaunt. We may have a few quarrels now and then after
this big reveal, but we are kin. You taught me how to care, and I
have already taken that lesson to heart. You are my treasure. Sorry,
but you're stuck with me until death do us part. Because, as you
know, Dark Lords loathe to let go of their treasures."
"Fufufu. But you're not a dark lord."
"… You're ruining the tear-jerking moment I painstakingly tried to set

up, mother."
"Meh. I'm sure you can do it again, oh genius son of mine."
Small hands cupped his cheeks gently as slender fingers began to

rub soothing circles across his cheekbones and jaw. He could not
help but lean into the touch, his eyes half-lidded as he fought the lull
of sleep.
"Sleep. I'll be here when you're awake."
Right.
Marcaunon closed his eyes as he leaned against his son - and oh,
how happy he was to be able to call Chaos dear his son once again.
After they were well rested, he would properly explain the reason as
to why they were here, what they would snitch from this dimension,
and finally, the bloody paperwork Death kept on sending to him.
And then when he was done with the explanations, they can relax in
this dimension for a year, just getting to re-know each other. Of
course, they would be keeping the fact that they had the orb of
destruction a secret until the last day from Death. If that workaholic
were to find out that Marcaunon had already known the location of
the orb, they would be home before he could say 'treacle tart'!
[Line Break]
Date: 1 September 1968
Location: Hogwarts, Marc's bedchamber
Amidst fluttering white butterflies stood an inky portal that was darker
than black itself. It was oozing with negative (death) energy, and if
one were to be exposed to it for a prolonged period of time, they
would definitely turn mad.
If it could be described with a word, it would be the Abyss.
Well, not to Marcuanon though.
He, along with his now 8 years old son (and two serpents that had
rushed out of the bedchamber immediately), was spat out of Death's
portal like they were unwanted pests.
Whilst Chaos had safely landed on their shared bed, Marcaunon

himself had been thrown to the floor and almost had his neck broken
by how fast he was going.
With a few curses leaving his lips, he popped his shoulder back into
place as he glared nastily at Death, who had somehow appeared in
front of him, Its Avada colored eyes bright with satisfaction.
How someone so ancient could be so petty, Marcaunon would never

know.
As if reading his mind, It snorted at him rudely before disappearing

along with Its portal, as if never here the first place. Probably to
work. Death was dedicated like that. Like how It was dedicated to
breaking a few of his bones when It found out that he had the orb of
destruction the whole time just a few minutes ago.
Ah, he would need to watch out for fish bones in his candies now.
Yes, Death can cause someone to choke on a fish bone whilst eating
candy and die. Terrifying.
He distracted himself by turning his attention to something other than

dying. His butterflies were all fluttering around him excitedly as they
welcomed him home, and Marcaunon smiled with soft eyes as he
patted them one by one with a finger. He had truly missed his
sinners.
"Are you alright, mother? I heard something similar to a bone being

shattered."
"You worry too much, love. Just Mort being his usual loving self." He
stretched with a pleasurable groan (and ignoring a few broken ribs
that would heal soon) as he lay down on the floor. He felt truly at
home in Hogwarts. It was as if the castle itself was welcoming him
home with invisible hugs and kisses.
Marchosias shuffled around the bedchamber, and as soon as the lad

was near enough to him, Marcaunon grabbed him around the middle
and hugged his little bundle of joy like a teddy bear.
Chaos simply sighed in resignation, although those ruby eyes of his

were soft with fondness.
"The sorting will begin soon, mother."
"Yeah."
"And we should be getting dressed."
"Alright."
"Preferably now."
"Mhm."
"Dumbledore is getting beheaded at this year's sorting."
"Uh huh."
He heard a sigh, but it was distant as his eyelids fluttered close. He

felt too comfortable to move.
Marcaunon found himself lying alone on an unknown bed in an

equally unknown room a minute later - which would have caused him
to be more alert if it were not for how safe he felt at being here.
He was feeling awfully lazy today, so he merely scanned the room

with his eyes, and after finding that there was no threat, he relaxed
his muscles and snuggled deeper into the Slytherin green blankets.
It was whilst he was busy being a cacoon that the door creaked
open. He was at full attention immediately, and he rolled out of the
bed, blanket being thrown messily aside in favor of whipping out his
wand… which was not there.
Marcaunon blinked rapidly as he patted himself down, feeling

awkward at not having a weapon on him… as well as suspicious at
not having a weapon on him!
A sultry chuckle brought him out of his confusion, and he glowered at

the shadowed figure leaning by the door. The room he was in was
dark, and the only lighting he had was the lamp by his bedside.
"Who are you?" He demanded with a fierce glare, his eyes bleeding
crimson.
"We should really stop meeting like this." the man stated with a wave
of his hand, and as he paused in his speech, he made his way
towards Marcaunon.
The face that was revealed to him made him gasp and took a step
back.
"How…?"
"Simple. You called - and I answered."
The man, Voldemort, reached out a hand, and it hovered over

Marcaunon's cheek hesitatingly before settling gently over the ugly
scar.
They rubbed soothing circles over his flushed skin, and he almost
leaned into the touch because it reminded him of Chaos. Almost.
"I thought you were gone." Voldemort's face was blank as he said
those words, and his eyes held a certain emotion that Marcaunon
couldn't quite decipher.
It was because of that emotion that Marcaunon withheld his tongue
of any rude commentaries and simply remained silent and unmoving.
Those fingers gradually began to climb lower and settle on his neck,
directly above his pulse.
His cousin was curiously fingering his disgusting scars, and for that,
Marcaunon felt shameful. Tom Riddle was truly a beautiful specimen
of the human race. And when compared to him…
He took a step back, letting the man's hand hover in between of

them before they retreated.
"I would really like to stop meeting you like this." He whispered under
his breath as he closed his eyes. "It's not good for my heart."
His lips parted and as he readied himself to speak of things he would

have surely regretted, but then his cheeks were roughly pinched by
childish fingers.
"Uweh?! Chaoosh?"
"Are you awake now, mother? We really need to get ready for the
sorting. It's bad to be late for the first day of school - work." Chaos
grumbled seriously as he continued to stretch Marcaunon's cheeks.
The boy looked positively unimpressed at him.
"Stahp dhat! Merlin. Somehow, it feels like our roles are always
reversed."
"And you just realized that now? Really, mother, you truly are dense.
You're lucky you have Mort and I to protect you."
"Is that any way to talk to your mother?" Marcaunon pouted as he

stood up, his feet already bringing him towards his wardrobe. "With
all of your impatientness, I would think you can't wait to see our
esteemed headmaster."
Chaos choked on air as Marcaunon laughed cheerfully, happy that
he had finally made his little boy speechless. Next on his list; Death -
his death long companion.
A/N(2): Ah. I rushed this chapter too much when I'm still down
with a fever. But the inspiration just hit me so I couldn't help
myself! I needed to write it down before it all fled. So, yeah. This
is what I came up with after a whole day of writing randomly,
and 6 hours of editing those stupid random dialogues until
early morning.
I seriously thank you guys for being patient with me… even after I
went MIA for a year. The PMs and reviews truly made me happy
after I came online on this account!
Story recommendation for today: Melodies Unheard, but Felt All

the Same by Watermelonsmellinfellon. Ok so… I haven't been
reading fanfiction for quite some time, and after watching an anime
called Yuri! on Ice, I decided to look up a fanfic and discovered this
masterpiece. And hey, it's from one of my favorite LV/HP fanfiction
writer! So yes, I'm recommending this. Though I do recommend that
you watch the anime first to understand what it's about. Ok, so,
basically, this fanfic is about a deaf figure skater. Eh, it's good. I'm
not sure how to recommend a fanfic that's not HP to HP fans.
Rainbows and Fevers,
GenderlessPerson

Silk Roads by GenderlessPerson-RifHHC82

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Silk Roads

Rated: Fiction M - Language: English - Genre: Adventure/Family -

Original source: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10678294/1/Silk-Roads

Exported with the assistance of FicHub.net

Pairings: Older Harry/Voldemort, other side pairings

Warning: AU, Time-Travel, Universe Hopping, New Identity,

Disclaimer: If I were the author of Harry Potter, Dumble would

Chapter 1: Traveling through space and time

In a barely lit room with only an unmade bed and a dark-tainted

Other than his youthful appearance of a late teen, he represents a

He had developed a condition called merinthophobia, much to his

Just as his state of mind began to waver in his usual bouts of

"I am Death." The cloaked being introduced itself with a somewhat

"You are neither dreaming nor hallucinating."

"Take you away? In a way." The being answered slowly.

"… Master of Death?"

The newly pronounced Master of Death snapped from his daze-like

A simple yet unnerving answer. The Master of Death continued to

"What do you require in exchange if I were to agree?"

Death shrugged elegantly.

The man hummed in thought. He could recklessly agree and change

"I have questions."

Death gave a small nod.

"How are you going to move me if I were to agree?"

"As we will be staying for an unlimited amount of time, Master will

"It would be greatly appreciated if you were to elaborate."

"You assumption is correct, my Master. Your body is linked to your

"And this will lead me into being raised by matrons from an

The man continued to wait for an explanation that would probably

"… Would it kill you to elaborate without my asking?"

"Forgive me my Master, if you were as old as I am, you would find

"That would be much appreciated." He sighed.

"After your body's de-aging, I will need two Magicals of your

"What if I were to want parents that are non-existent?" The man

"… I assume you will want to be in a specific lineage?"

"The Gaunts." He agreed with Death.

"There are other universes where Marvolo Gaunt has siblings or

"Where Marvolo has a sibling whom gave birth to a son?"

"And others are the same?"

"No, these scars… Each one is a reminder of how weak I was,

"I am in need of a few minutes to find such a universe."

"Master, I have found a place where Marvolo Gaunt indeed has a

"And who is this blood mother?"

"Well Master, why not find out yourself?"

"And the date?"

"I can travel around without any restriction, Master."

"I would not."

"May I ask what that is?"

"A partially damaged glass vial; often used to store potions or

A frustrated sound was made by the man and he sighed in defeat.

Death made an amuse sound from the back of Its throat.

"And whose soul is that you are holding imprison?"

"One of its pieces used to be stored inside a black diary before I

"Perhaps you are referring to a black diary, one with an initial of

It was really beautiful. Who would've thought such a corrupted soul

"Why are you giving me his soul? Will he be following us?"

"Indeed he will, but as he has no body, I am devastated to say that

"… Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"You-.. That-.. Argh! I need to produce a body for him!? An actual

"You have always dreamt of being a father… Was I wrong?"

"Indeed I do know, as well as to the reason why."

He made an irritated sound and huffed out in frustration. It has been

Death stared at its Master as he continued to mumble out incoherent

"What about his memories?" The man finally huffed out.