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The Lord and The Serpent

Chapter Text

“Harry, dear boy, come in, come in,” the Headmaster beams at him, closing the door behind the First Year and ushering him in.


Harry Potter sits on a garish, orange and purple chair, eyeing Fawkes with an adoring gaze; said Phoenix croons and trills away calmly, staring at Harry with an emotion that Harry cannot decipher.


Dumbledore gives a small smile, noticing Harry’s gaze on his Phoenix. “Have you never seen a Phoenix before, Harry?” He chuckles, the faćade of a kind grandfather covering him. “They’re truly magnificent creatures, and the bond they share with their Master is a very sacred one, my dear boy.”


Harry’s green eyes— the colour of the the Killing Curse — turn to him, multiple questions brimming in his young mind. “What do you mean by bond, Headmaster? And is it true that their tears have healing properties?” He asks eagerly, the little Ravenclaw that he is.


“A bond is what happens when a magical creature chooses a witch or a wizard to share their powers with, Harry. And yes, it is true.” Dumbledore answers calmly, even though he’s seething on the inside. The boy had been left with his Muggle relatives, so how in Merlin’s bloody name did he hear about that tidbit about Phoenixes? It didn’t matter that the boy was a Ravenclaw, he wasn’t supposed to know about anything about any magical creature whatsoever.


Harry’s eyes grow wide with delight at the information, and he stares once more at Fawkes, a smile breaking out on his face as the bird flows over to his armchair, still trilling.


“Hi, there,” Harry coos happily, much to the Headmaster’s growing agitation, “My name’s Harry, Harry Potter—”


“Harry, my boy, as much as I hate to cut this off, we really do need to talk about what you did in Transfiguration today.” Dumbledore smoothly cut in, leveling a disappointed at the boy.


Harry flinches and a blush colors his cheeks, though he doesn’t apologize. “He had it coming, Professor,” He says, an angry frown on his face as he remembers his brother’s annoying remarks about Hermione. “He kept on insulting Hermione, even after I told him off twice!”


“Still, Harry, that doesn’t give you the right to throw a book at your twin brother,” Dumbledore chides him, twinkling all the while. “And as such, I’m afraid I’ll be taking fifteen points—”


A floating note suddenly pops into existence in front of the Headmaster, one that causes him to blink in annoyance and confusion. He stands up, taking the note, and tells Harry in a clipped tone that belies his benign image, “There is an issue that requires my attention, my boy; I shall return in a bit to finish our conversation.”


The second Dumbledore leaves, Fawked starts flapping his wings and immediately flows over to Dumbledore’s desk, clawing at a drawer desperately. The bird screeches and trilles angrily when Harry doesn’t immediately jump after him, causing the boy to jolt out of his shocked state and come to the Phoenix’s side.


“What is it, Fawkes?” He asks, a part of him still reeling at how easily the man ignored him in favor of his brother, the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, but Fawkes only continues scratching at one of the drawers, trilling urgently.  


Harry blinks, still confused, “Er. . . you want me to open it?” He then asks, and much to his shock the Phoenix actually nods, no longer screeching angrily.  


“Alright,” Harry mumbles, but a tiny part in him is nervous about breaching the Headmaster’s privacy in such a manner. However, Fawkes wouldn’t do anything that could hurt his master, would he? No, he wouldn’t , Harry ultimately decides, opening the drawer.


Except it doesn’t open.


“Fawkes?” Harry wonders, turning to look at said magical creature. Much to his surprise Fawked is pulling a silver key out of the Sorting Hat, flying back to Harry with the key clutched  in his beak.


Fawkes comes back to Harry and drops the key into his hands, nudging the boy. Harry silently complies with the bird’s wishes, tucking the key in and twisting. He cannot help but get confused at the happy trill the Phoenix lets out when they hear the click, but nevertheless he opens the drawer, only to find a small, crystal chest with strange symbols carved on it.


Fawkes doesn’t waste a moment and immediately throws the chest onto the ground with such a force that actually makes Harry’s jaw drop open. The chest crashes and breaks, bright shards of light covering every inch of the floor except where Harry is standing.


“Merlin!” Harry cries out in shock and fear as he sees that now, instead of there being shards, stands a tall, thin man, blood covering his body and his cloak torn in many places.


The man gasps and drops to his knees, coughing specks of blood and dirt. His eyes, the darkest obsidian Harry’s ever seen, swerve around the room, stopping once he catches sight of Harry and the now smug-looking Fawkes.


“What in the bloody hell?” The man eventually rasps out, another series of coughs wrecking through his body.


Harry rushes to the man’s side to help him, but the second he touches the man’s shoulder the door to the Headmaster's office slams open, Albus Dumbledore standing in all his glory, his angry glory, for the glare and snarl on his face is unlike anything Harry’s ever seen.


“How dare you release him!—” he snarls, his wand in his hand and pointing at them.


Harry doesn’t have much time to comprehend what happens next, but he does remember Fawkes screeching and flying to them, and then a flash and then nothing more, for the darkness takes him under its comfortable wing.




It has been ten years since the last time he saw his husband. Ten. Bloody. Years.


Marvolo has no problem admitting to himself that going after the Potters that night was a decision brought on by anger and a thirst for revenge in his dead godson’s name— Bellatrix and Rodolphus’ child and heir. Only, for once the old fool managed to outdo himself and somehow trap him in the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow, after the Potters managed to Apparate with their twins.


His beloved husband had called him name upon name through their mindlink, angry and pissed that Marvolo did such a thing without consulting him first.   


It all then unraveled from there with Dumbledore’s arrival, who had, on top of trapping him from going outside, had made it so that his precious Severus couldn’t get inside either.


Marvolo and Dumbledore had fought, Marvolo emerging a victor only for him to find out that all along he’d been the one vanquished, for while he and Albus were duelling his husband was busy fighting off Sirius Black, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody.


Severus no doubt is a powerful wizard all in how own, more than able to hold his own against the Dark Lord longer than many experienced Aurors, but still, the three aforementioned men were also quite strong, not to mention the strength in number.  


Dumbledore had then left the house and onto the backyard through Apparition, the wards that he’d put around the house crashing with his departure. Marvolo had raced to his husband’s side, only to see Dumbledore yell a spell he had never heard before, one which resulted in his Severus being dragged down into a chest, his wand not in his hand.


Marvolo had been seething with anger but Dumbledore, apparently finished, had levitated the unconscious and nearly dead Black and Shacklebolt with him, while the heavily injured Moody had followed after them.


Marvolo had, of course, thrown dark curses at them, and he had managed to cut off Black’s left arm, burn half of Dumbledore’s beard and garish robes, and put another gash on Shacklebolt.


It still did not lessen the pain of losing Severus to the Light.  


Marvolo shakes himself out of his depressing thoughts, stroking Nagini’s scales. “Oh, Severus, what I’d do just to have you here with me right now,” he sighs, once again nudging the blocked mindlink he shared with his precious Potions Master. Nagini hisses softly, comforting him as much as she can.


He expects nothing but to feel the block, except when he does nudge it he feels the faintest bit of sand on his hand, a change to the wall he’s felt the last ten years.


His breath catches in his throat, but before he can investigate further, hurried footsteps sound from outside his study, and it’s only seconds later that Bellatrix and Barty storm in, both looking delighted with their left forearms bared.


“My Lord!” They both cry out, uncaring of how loud they are.


Marvolo stands up, Nagini slithering behind him. “What is the meaning of this?” He snaps angrily and annoyedly, his mind still on the mindlink between him and his husband.


“My Lord, the Consort is back!” Bellatrix crows happily, her eyes bright as she Barty shove their forearms near his face.


Marvolo grasps Barty’s arm, and true to their words, on the skull of the Mark is the word Consort written in Parselscript, visible only to those in his Inner Circle.


The giddiness that overcomes him is enough to make him overlook their disrespect. And then a laugh, fond and yet cruel, comes from him.


Trust only Severus to free himself, regardless of whoever kept him captive.


The ancient wards of Slytherin Manor chime throughout the residence, announcing the arrival of someone through Apparition.


Marvolo does not wait, immediately striding towards where he just knows his husband will be. His two servants follow after him obediently, sharing victorious glances.


After all, their Lord’s Consort definitely had their respect and appreciation.




My beloved Severus, ” The Dark Lord hisses softly to the trembling beauty in his arms, wordlessly and wandlessly healing the worst and most visible of Severus’ injuries. Severus, although couldn’t speak Parseltongue, understood the serpentine language through a ritual Marvolo did for him. “ You’ve finally returned to my arms.


“Husband,” Severus gasps out, kissing Marvolo with a hunger similar to that of a starving beast. “The boy— the boy and that blasted Phoenix freed me—” The boy and Fawkes, who also flashed with them, the former unconscious and the latter watching everything calmly.


“Hush, my love,” Marvolo kisses him back just as hungrily, uncaring for the Inner Circle kneeling around them that had all come to inform him of the change in their Marks. “First, let’s get you all patched up and then we’ll talk.”


Severus nods into his chest, letting the older man run his fingers through his hair even though it was dirty. In fact, his entire body was dirty still from that duel ten years ago, but it mattered very little in the face of finally being back in his husband’s arms.


“The infirmary better be ready!” Marvolo then snaps at his Inner Circle, prompting them into movement. After a moment’s consideration during which he picks up Severus into his arms, he says, “And there better not be a single scratch on that boy when they look him over in the infirmary.”


He doesn’t give his most trusted followers a glance as he leaves, too happy to have his beautiful, sly serpent back with him and away from Dumbledore.


Nagini slithers behind him, hitting anybody who doesn’t move fast enough with her tail while keeping a vigilant eye on the boy and the bird.

Chapter Text

Albus Dumbledore sits in his office, uncaring of the destruction around him as he contemplates his next steps. More than half of the portraits are torn apart, the monitoring trinkets he had all broken and no longer working. There are scorch marks on the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling. Fawkes’ perch is now nothing more than ash, and the Elder Wand is still in his hand, ready to go on another round of destruction.


How lovely would it be, if it were Severus at the end of my wand, Dumbledore thinks maliciously, and his teeth grit at the reminder of the Potions Master's escape and the Phoenix’s betrayal. And not to mention, the stupid Potter brat that just had to be fucking there .


Had it not been for that insolent child’s interference, then Severus would still be here; imprisoned and helpless against anything the Headmaster had planned for him. He had planned to make Severus watch as he slowly and painfully killed his husband and Death Eaters, as repayment for what Severus did to him when Dumbledore graciously offered him the position of Hogwarts’ future Potions Master the second Dumbledore noticed Severus’ affinity for potions in the child’s first year.


No one refused Albus Percival Wulferic Brian Dumbledore, and certainly not as rudely as Severus did.




“Lily, darling, it’s time to go!” James Potter calls out to his wife, twirling his wand in his dominant hand as he waits by the fireplace.


“I’m coming, James! No need to be so impatient.” Lily Evans Potter huffs as she enters their living room, rolling her eyes. She checks herself once again in the mirror above the fireplace, fixing a stray lock of copper-colored hair before deeming herself, finally, appropriate enough to go.


James smirks at her, “I know, but Dumbledore said to be quick, and come to think of it I have no idea why you had to change considering it’s only an Order meeting.”


“You wouldn’t understand,” Lily retaliates, and then nudges further him towards the fireplace. “Let’s get get going.”


“Yes, m’am!” James laughs as he gets inside, taking the floo powder and yelling out 12 Grimmauld Place, whirling away in a flash of green fire. Lily follows him seconds later, after casting multiple charms to protect herself from the annoying soot.


“Lily, dear! Come in, come in,” Molly Weasley beams brightly at her and ushers her immediately into the dining room, where everybody else is. Dumbledore and Moody are talking in one corner, and Molly returns to checking on the food while shooing Kreacher away. Arthur and Minerva sit on the table together, Arthur describing something— probably muggle— to her with enthusiasm. James, Sirius, and Remus are also on the table, laughing loudly at something Sirius said, waving his prosthetic hand around in exaggeration. When the two beside James notice her, they call her.


“Lily! Come here,” Remus smiles and takes a chair out for her, just as Albus clears his throat to gain their attention. He ignores James’ teasing at ‘ such a gentleman you are, Moony!’ And instead lets Lily stick her tongue out at her husband, before they all fall silent to listen to what Dumbledore has to say.


“Before we begin, Lily, James, what was the name of the dark spell Severus casted on the cherry tree in Godric’s Hollow?” Dumbledore looks at them with a barely-there frown, the customary twinkle in his eyes gone. Lily and James exchange a surprised glance; Dumbledore rarely asked them that question, as it usually meant that whatever was said couldn’t beater told to anybody else, and it was also to see whether or not someone was impersonating them.


James begins, “Well, for starters there aren’t any cherry trees in Godric’s Hollow—”


Lily then continues, “But there are a few pine trees, and the one near our house is the smallest one—”


“And Snivellus didn’t cast any spells, only a cutting hex that was meant for Moody.” James finishes, and he and his wife both sag slightly in relief when the Headmaster smiles at them in relief.


The smile is immediately gone when Albus starts talking, his tone one that spoke of the sobriety of the situation that they were yet to know.


“My dear friends, there’s no way for me to make this new any harder to take, though I long to wish that it had not even happened in the first place,” Dumbledore sighs, sitting down and petting his beard.


Molly speaks up, her voice tinged with worry and alarm, “Albus, what has happened?” She wrings her hands in nervousness, and a quick glance at Moody showed that not even the hardened ex-Auror knew what was wrong.


Albus’ lips thin out beneath his beard, and when he speaks next, he has already anticipated the shocked reactions of his Order. He cannot blame them, for he is still reeling.


“Severus has escaped.”




The Inner Circle surround the giant bed in a semicircle, kneeling with their eyes on the floor. Their bodies are still, not a twitch of muscle as their Master's soft hissing filles in the silence.


“My beautiful husband, Lord Voldemort trails a finger down Severus’ cheek, giving the younger man a fond smile as Severus relaxes, his taunt limbs sinking into the soft mattress beneath him. Voldemort desperately wanted to use the mindlink to talk with his beloved, but the wall was still there, although it was now less stone-like and more like sand. “I shall make the entire Order beg before you, my most precious, as an apology and a gift.”


He then switches to normal English, still staring at his husband’s face, “What is it that my most faithful and devoted among hundreds of other servants want so much that they’d impose on my Severus’ recovery?” He feels more than sees their minute flinch.  


They exchange wary and slightly nervous glances, but it is Augustus Rookwood that steps forward in the end, his eyes still trained on the floor.


“My Lord,” he begins, a vicious gleam in his eyes as he makes his request— their request known. “We would like to take revenge in the Consort’s name, if you would allow us to do so.”


Voldemort stays silent, thinking their request over; it would be good practice for his Inner Circle, and it may even get rid of a few pesky pests. And to be honest, he is still brimming with rage and twisted need to see the Order dead once and for all.


He takes his hand away from Severus, a frown pulling at his lips when his Potions Master whimpers quietly in his sleep, his features now troubled and his limbs once more tense.


Thinking quickly, Voldemort snaps at his followers, “Go wait in the conference hall.” His servants obey him immediately, and when the last one walks out, Voldemort grabs one of the many fluffy pillows around Severus and charms it with a warming charm, and thus imbuing it with a tiny amount of his magic, enough that his Severus relaxes once more when the Dark Lord presses the pillow against Severus’ body.


He kisses Severus’ forehead after lingering for a second, and then he walks out, hissing for Nagini to stay with Severus.


Nagini complies, expertly wrapping herself around the Potions Master without hurting him. Voldemort has no doubt that Nagini will definitely protect Severus.


For now, he has to know what his Inner Circle has planned.




The place where he is cannot be described as anything other than dreary and depressing, a heavy grief in the grey-darkened skies that shatters whatever peace the place could’ve once had. Clouds the color of ash and fire hover in the sky, and thunder can be heard, but no flashes of light or rain come.


He’s standing in a clearing, in a forest he’s never been to before, and the trees surrounding him are large and strong, not yet yielding to the the grief in the air. Try as he might, he cannot remember the name of the tree’s name, even though he can taste it at the tip of his tongue.


He tries to take a step, but his body feels frozen, stuck to the grass covered ground. And then, while he’s trying to move his body, something wet hits him on his nose, more slowly following. Rain drops that dry immediately less than a second of making contact with his body.


Somewhere behind him, thunder flashes loud and clear, and then—


A voice whispers, like the sliding of scales against stone, and breathes into his very soul, “ The trees are called yew , Little Master.”


Harry Potter wakes up with the smell of petrichor in his nose and his ears still ringing with the thunder, the memory of his dream only that, a memory.

Chapter Text

“Hello, child,” a dark-haired, elderly woman smiles at him, her face sharp-angled and somehow still gentle as she tucks the soft blanket around him. She’s sitting on a chair near his bed, a blue, dog-eared book held in her lap.


Harry tries to answer, but his throat is parched and the light hurts his eyes, and so he closes them, even though he doesn’t want to. The woman tuts and her warmth leaves him, seconds later the rustling of fabric sounding.


The lights then dim, enough that Harry can open his eyes without them watering from the intensity. The woman has returned, still smiling at him and now holding a glass of water, one which she gives him right away without Harry himself asking.


“Thank you,” Harry says gratefully after drinking the water, sitting up. It is then that Harry looks around the room, noting that it’s an infirmary with six other beds.


“You’re welcome, lad,” the lady chuckles, “Now, you must be wondering who am I and where you are, correct?”


Harry nods shyly, but the smile that stretches his face is quite big as Fawkes flashes into the room, immediately settling down next to Harry and rubbing the boy’s chin with his head. A glance at the woman shows that she has set her book down and was watching them, the gentle smile still on her face.


“Well, I am Healer Claudia Prince,” Claudia introduces herself, her dark eyes— much like the man from before, the one that Fawkes freed— watching him carefully. “And you’re in Slytherin Manor, lad.”


Harry frowns, “Wait— Slytherin Manor, as in Hogwarts’ Slytherin?” He asks, absently rubbing Fawkes’ neck.


Claudia chuckles and nods, “Yes, that Slytherin. Now, tell me, how do you feel? Your first time traveling like that couldn’t have been easy, could it?”


Fawkes gives an indignant squawk and Harry blushes, though he doesn’t deny it. A thought then hits him, quite hard.


“Wait!” He scrambles on the bed, jolting the other two occupants of the room. “The dark man! What happened to him? where’s he? I need to find him!”


“Calm down, child,” Claudia hastens to assure him as Fawkes trills out a calming tune, gently pushing Harry back down. “Hush, Severus is fine.”


“Severus?” Harry blinks, clearly still hesitant. “That’s his name?”


Claudia’s smile, much to Harry’s confusion, has a sad twist to it, though as she speaks she doesn’t say anything to explain why she could possibly be sad. “Yes, his name is Severus Tobias Slytherin.”


Harry’s eyes widen, “He’s Lord Slytherin?”


“No, child. He’s Consort Slytherin, and his husband is Lord Slytherin.”


Harry makes a noise of understanding, and then seconds later asks another question. “Okay, but where is he? He didn’t look good when Fawkes. . . broke the chest he was in. . .?”


The last bit is phrased as a question, because quite frankly Harry still has no idea just what exactly happened in the Headmaster’s office.


Claudia sighs a tired sigh, threading a hand through her hair. “How about you lie back down, child? I need to check on you vitals again, just in case.”


Harry’s eyes narrow at the deliberate change of subject, but he lies back down, letting her wave her wand over him.


For now, he won’t ask, but he still plans on finding out what happened.




“Uh, hi?” Leo Potter greets her awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands in his pockets. His hazel eyes avoid her, staring instead at the bookshelf behind her.


Hermione Granger gazes at his cautiously, ready to go the second he tries anything funny with her. “Hello? What do you want now?”


Leo grimaces, but he continues on, “I came to apologize,” he kicks at the ground, “What I said in Transfigurations today was rude and uncalled for, so her I am; I am sorry for calling you an annoying know-it-all.”


Had Hermione been raised to be more vindictive, she would’ve refused his apology, instead calling him names ten times worse than what he called her. However, Jean Granger raised her better than that, and so she smiles and nods, “Apology accepted.” It is then she notices that the Gryffindor is alone, his usual lackeys— Weasley and Thomas— not behind him, flanking him. “And where are your. . . friends?”


Curious, she thinks as she sees the sour look on his face at the aforementioned two, his fists clenching.


“Away.” He answers blandly, and before she can ask more, he speaks. “I also wanted to ask, do you know where my brother is? I need to speak to him too.”


Hermione’s brows furrow as she thinks of when she last saw Harry; it had been last at lunch, during which he got a note to go to the Headmaster. And now it is only an hour till curfew.


“I don’t know where he is right now, but the Headmaster might have an idea. He did call Harry to his office during lunch, so Harry might’ve mentioned someplace to him.” She answers truthfully.


Leo’s shoulders slump in defeat, and he gives a dejected sigh, thanking her before leaving, presumably to look for his brother.


Just where could Harry be? Leo thinks as he jogs out of the Library, ignoring the librarian. He really needed to talk to his younger twin.




2 hours before Harry wakes up:


“Hush, beloved. Drink this first.” Marvolo murmurs gently to his Severus as he helps him drink a pain potion, letting Severus lean against his chest.


“Ahh,” Severus breathes deeply in relief, his eyes closed and head slightly tilted. He grimaces as a few strands get caught in his mouth, tugging them out immediately. He ignores his husband’s chuckling as he, absentmindedly, mutters a spell his mother had taught him, one that she used to braid his long hair. “Still tastes as disgusting as I remember it.”


Marvolo smiles a fond smile, kissing Severus’ forehead before tucking the blankets more around them. “You’re the Potions Master, dear-heart, you ought to make them taste sweeter.”


Severus rolls his eyes mock exasperatedly, “Yes, Marvolo, let me just add sugar left and right to any and all potions that taste disgusting, because that wouldn’t ruin the potion at all. Now, instead of bickering like children, how about you tell me about all that has changed since my capture? And also where the child went?”


“You should rest more, Severus,” Marvolo grumbles, though he definitely knows better than to refuse his husband. “What would you like to know first, precious?”


Marvolo runs his hand down Severus’ back, chuckling quietly at the smile he gets as result of his pet names of Severus. The Potions Master leans more towards his husband, relishing being in his strong arms even though he’d rarely say so out loud. “Well, you can start by telling me exactly why Claudia Prince was tending to me before you came.”


“Ah, well you see, darling, after your capture Lord Prince contacted me, having somehow found out that you are my husband, and he asked me to arrange a meeting between you and him. Of course, he didn’t know that Dumbledore had you, and I didn’t tell him either right way. I told him instead that you were currently unavailable, without offering him an explanation to why.”


Severus stays silent for a few seconds, thinking it over. “Did he tell you why he wanted to talk to me? Also, do they bear the Mark?” He then asks, honestly curious as to why after all this time, he still attempted to talk to Severus. He’d always imagined that Lord Prince would rather talk to Eileen rather than him, but that went out the window with Eileen’s death at Tobias’ hands.


Marvolo shakes his head, ruby red eyes watching his husband’s every movement. “No, beloved, he didn’t tell me why he wanted to talk to you, nor do they bear my Mark.”


“And what of the boy?”


Marvolo smoothes a hand down Severus’ braid, kissing his forehead again. “Let us wait until he wakes up, dear-heart. We shall talk to him, and then decide on what our next steps will be.”

Chapter Text

“Damn Snivellus!” Sirius snarls as he paces the length of 12 Grimmauld Place’s living room, threading a hand through his hair. While he’s standing, Lily, James, and Remus are sitting on the couches, each nursing a drink.


Lily sniffs, wiping the last of her tears with a handkerchief James had given her. “I still can’t believe it, you know?” she whispers to James, leaning into him.


“Can’t believe what, Lils?” Sighs James.


“I can’t believe just how much of a monster Sev has become, his mother would be ashamed o him if she ever saw him.” Lily frowns as she explains, still holding the handkerchief in her hands tightly. “I knew that he wasn’t that nice, but to become that Dark? Disgusting.”


James nods along her words, his own face twisted in an expression of distate. “You shouldn’t have even been friends with him,” He huffs, catching the other two’s attention. “I’m just glad that you got away from him before he could do something to you, Lils.”


“Yeah, Lily, Prongs’ right,” Sirius finally sits down, joining them along with Remus. “Merlin knows what he could’ve done to you, and just look at how he’s controlling Harry already.”


Lily and James flinch at hearing Harry’s name, more tears gathering in Lily’s green eyes. Seeing them, Remus hits Sirius on the back of his head, silently admonishing him for saying Harry’s name after what Dumbledore told them that Severus has already turned Harry Dark, and it’d be better if they forgot about the boy altogether.


“We finally had the chance to know Harry, and Snivellus took it right from us,” Remus growls, his eyes flashing amber for a second before turning back to their original colour.


“Don’t worry, Moony,” Sirius’ voice has a dark tone to it, one that only Remus notices and doesn’t comment on, “We’ll get our revenge on him and his husband soon enough.”  


Lily shudders as she remembers Albus telling them that Severus and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named are married, another one of Severus’ many mistakes; a man marrying another man? Completely freakish and unnatural, and Lily herself vowed that she’d talk to Albus about somehow finding a way to return Severus to the Light, without any of those Pureblood ideas in his mind anymore.




“How did he really escape, Albus?” Mad-Eye asks him after everyone has went away, multiple privacy charms and spells keeping them safe from any prying ears as they converse in one of the studies in the residence.


Albus sighs a tired sigh, running a hand down his beard, “I don’t truly know, Moody. I was gone for one minute, and the next thing I know is the ward on Severus’ prison going off. When I got there I didn’t have a chance to say anything before Fawkes flashed them out.”


Moody frowns, clearly agitated. “If Fawkes could’ve broken him out, why didn’t he do it sooner?”


“No, not Fawkes,” Albus shakes his head in denial, “But the boy—”


“The wards, Albus— why didn’t they hold?” Moody almost yells, his magical eye whirling in its socket. His fists are clenched tightly, to hold himself back from tearing that door down and chasing after Snape so that Moody may throw him into the deepest, darkest cell in Azkaban.


“The wards didn’t simply break, Mad-Eye, they dissolved .” Albus growls, “That brat did something to them, he must have! I just don’t know what he did!”


“Bugger it all to hell,” Moody then says, taking a swing of his flask. In his anger and annoyance, he mutters, “Voldemort probably sent the bloody kid, anyways!”


Albus rolls his eyes, “I had put blood wards on the house the boy was in, Voldemort nor anyone with a Dark core would’ve been able to get even near the house without suffering some sort of injury.”


Moody huffs, quite rudely, “As if your wards are that good, what with a child being able to get past them.”


It is only decades of patience that holds Albus back from cursing the ex-Auror until he is screaming and begging for mercy, apologizing repeatedly for the disrespectful way he spoke to Albus.


No matter, once he gets Severus back and drains the Potions Master’s magical core (for that is the only way to secure Severus’ compliance), he’ll show them all just how dangerous he actually is.




“Husband?” Severus asks as he brushes his now wet hair, having showered and dressed in something more formal than the nightclothes he was previously wearing after Marvolo had burned the clothes of that blasted night to ashes.


“Yes, precious?” Marvolo tugs the brush gently from Severus’ hands, smoothing it down his lover’s hair himself. Severus does not protest, knowing that although Marvolo wouldn’t admit it outloud, he was still worried that Severus truly wasn’t there. And to be honest, he liked the pampering Marvolo often bestowed on him.


“Where’s my wand? Dumbledore didn’t get it, did he?”


Marvolo sets the brush down and sections Severus’ hair into three parts, the beginnings of a braid. “No, don’t worry, I took it before he could attempt to do so. It’s in my office.”


Before Severus can speak more, a female elf pops in, vaguely familiar to Severus. “Little Master be asking for Master Darkness and Master Consort, Lady Prince be sending Dilly to fetch,” she says, wringing her hands nervously together.


Severus and Marvolo exchange a glance, “Inform Lady Prince that we shall be there in a minute, Dilly,” Severus orders her, immediately standing up and fixing the collar of his robes after Marvolo ties up the braid.


Dilly nods, her ears flopping, and pops out, leaving the two men together once more.


“I feel like I’ve seen that elf before, though I’m sure that Slytherin Manor had no elves named Dilly,” Severus muses quietly, raising an eyebrow at Marvolo, who chuckles and nods.


“You are correct, beloved. She’s a Malfoy elf, the one who took care of Draco when he was a child. Narcissa assigned her to take care of the Potter boy in the Infirmary since Draco is currently in Hogwarts.” Marvolo says and frown at the sad smile that Severus gets when he mentioned Draco.


“What is it, my precious?” Marvolo asks, tugging his husband into his arms.


“I missed out on my Godson’s childhood all because of those thrice-damned bastards,” Severus snarls, his magic twisting in anger as he thinks about all that he wants to do to that blasted Order of Fried Chickens.


Marvolo shudders in pleasure as he feels his beloved’s magic, but he does not disagree; Dumbledore and his Order took too much from them, and one day Marvolo will gladly take it all back, be it willingly or not.




Claudia sighs as she steps out of the Infirmary to give the two men and the child some privacy, a nervousness to her that she had seldom felt before.


Severus looked much, much better than he did when he was first brought in, now clean and groomed to perfection with robes of dark grey and silver accents. And with the Dark Lord himself, they made a truly striking picture.


When they had first stepped into the Infirmary, Severus bad only given her a polite yet cool greeting, only waiting long enough for her to greet him back before moving on to the boy. Lord Voldemort had greeted her, too, and then asked her to leave them, saying that Severus will meet them after talking with the boy, and how long that’d take Lord Voldemort did not know, and so he told her to go back to Lord Prince to relay everything to him.


Claudia, although heavily dejected, still agreed graciously, and so here she is now, on her way to the parlour so that she could Floo back home to her own husband, Lord Augustus Prince.


She and Augustus had made many mistakes when it came to Eileen, and thus by extension Severus, but they were hoping that by talking to him they’d start to fix them, mending the broken relationship between them and their first oldest grandson.


They had other grandchildren of course, what with having another daughter, Aurelia, who was married to a french pureblood, and a pair of twins, Adrian and Aemilius


Eileen had been their oldest, and then the twins came, and lastly sweet Aurelia, and after that due to health compilations Claudia was unable to have more children, much to the sadness of both Claudia and Augustus. Though, they were happy to note that all their children had no problem giving them the grandchildren they secretly desired.


Aurelia had birthed a beautiful daughter, whom she and her husband named Cecilia. Their oldest twin, who became the heir after Eileen’s disownment, married a male russian pureblood and also had a daughter who they named Nadia. The younger twin also married a french halfblood and, much to their hidden delight, had a pair of twins that they named Adora and Amadeus.


Now, the only person left to join their rather large family was Severus, and Claudia prayed daily to Lady Magic to give her and her husband the chance to know Severus.




“Hello, child,” Severus greets the child as he sits down on the chair Claudia sat on before, unknowingly mirroring Claudia’s words from before. Marvolo silently conjures a chair for himself besides Severus, receiving an eye roll from his husband and an awed look from the boy.


“Hello, Mr. Slytherin,” Harry murmurs shyly, sitting up straighter even though he feels too nervous to look at them in the eye.


Severus and Marvolo share an amused glance at what he calls Severus, but said man chuckles and corrects him gently. “Call me either Severus or Consort Slytherin, child. Though I believe I don’t know your name as of yet?”


“My name is Harry, Harry Potter,” Harry says, flinching at the hard look that enters the red eyed man’s gaze.


“A Potter ?” The man almost hisses, but Severus grasps his arm tightly, bringing him back to reality and to the sight of Harry’s fear-filled eyes. Severus himself wants nothing more than to throw a few, nice Crucios at Potter Sr. and his precious Marauders, but he doesn’t let that particular desire show on his face.


“Ah, I apologize, Harry,” He says after getting a pinch from Severus, one that Harry doesn’t notice. “You father and I aren’t really that close. Anyways, where are my manners? I am Marvolo Slytherin, you may call me Lord Slytherin.”


Harry nods, though he’s still clearly cautious of them. “It’s fine, Lord Slytherin. My father and I aren’t that close either.” He admits, shrugging.


“What do you mean, Harry?” Severus asks him, finally letting go of Marvolo’s abused arm. Something inside of him is nagging at him that Harry’s more than he appears. Much more than he appears.


Harry eyes them with caution and trepidation, but what can he lose? Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon certainly didn’t love him, and his own parents left him with them for ten years without a good excuse as to why. And when they finally came to get him to a magical school in a magical world, they didn’t even bother apologising or even hugging him.


No, he has nothing to lose.

Chapter Text

The two men gape at him, “They left you, a magical child, with Muggles!?”


“Um, yes. . . ? What’s so wrong with that?” Harry blinks at them confusedly, bewildered at their reaction.


“What’s wrong with that? Everything’s wrong with that! ” Lord Slytherin hisses, his eyes flashing.


Before Harry can ask them to elaborate further, Severus grasps his hands, staring at Harry with an alarmed look in his eyes. “Harry, how did Petunia treat you?”


The stiffening of Harry’s muscles speaks volumes on its own, and Marvolo cannot help but start hissing profanities in Parseltongue under his breath; he, himself, has never Petunia before, but Severus has told him enough to understand that she was nothing but a rotten little monster too greedy and envious for her own good. Just what were the Potters thinking in sending him there solely on Dumbledore's orders? Were they truly that far up his posterior?


“Harry, child, please,” Severus begs quietly, though on the inside he’s already planning Petunia’s death; he refuses to let any other magical child suffer under foolish Muggles the same way he did under Tobias.


Harry shakes his head, tugging his hands out of Severus’, “They treated me perfectly fine,” He says, refusing to look at either of them. These two men are clearly powerful, and Harry refuses to look or sound weak in front of them. “They treated me the same way they treated Dudley, their own son.”


Severus and Marvolo share a look: for now, they won’t push Harry to talk about his previous home life— Severus refuses to even think about returning Harry— but they’ll still visit Petunia at a later date.


“If you say so, child,” Severus sighs, “Now, what did Lily and James tell you when they first took you?”


Harry’s tiny body— too tiny for his age , Marvolo thinks— slumps slightly in relief, though he still doesn’t look at them in the eye. “Well, they apologized? They did say they were sorry that they had to leave me, but they also didn’t say they regretted it, so I don’t know. Um, I also didn’t shop, since they had already bought everything when they took Leo, and they only placed shrinking charms on the robes because Leo was bigger than me.”


Severus and Marvolo wishe, desperately, to have the Potters before them, if only to ask just what the absolute fuck were they thinking.


How could they find it in themselves to treat their own flesh and blood in such a way? It’s simply outrageous! All children (creatures, magicals, and even muggles) should be cherished, not beaten and broken and spitted on.


Yes, Petunia Dursley, the Potters, and Dumbledore would soon rue the way they’ve treated children.




Marvolo sighs, “ No, Nagini, you cannot go, he hisses back to his agitated familiar, said familiar snapping her fangs in anger.


They’ve hurt a hatchling! Your hatchling!” Nagini slithers on the floor near the fireplace, ‘huffing’ angrily.


My hatchling? Marvolo raises an eyebrow, setting his wine glass down. His eyes stray to his beautiful husband, who’s equally bewildered at what Nagini’s saying.


He belongs to you and your mate, does he not? Therefore he’s your hatchling.” Nagini explains, her voice dripping with impatience and exasperation.


Nagini, he’s not our son, Marvolo clarifies, or at least he tries to at any rate; Nagini is, after all, a force of nature all on her own.


Then make him so,” Nagini hisses as she curls up in front of the fireplace, You once mentioned the sharing of blood when I asked, what’s the difference to this?


Marvolo and Severus turn equally amused looks at each other, but the idea is already nestled in Marvolo’s mind; he and Severus once spoke about children, and both agreed to have at least three, with Severus being the bearer.


Blood adopting Harry would be easy, wouldn’t it? And then Marvolo would already have a heir should anything happen, and since Marvolo and Severus refused to return the boy to any Light oriented family the adoption would certainly fix a few other, minor issues.


But if they were to go through with the adoption, then they’d have to find either tutors for Harry or send him to either Durmstrang or Beauxbatons. And that’s without mentioning Harry’s brother, Leo.


Still, though, Marvolo himself definitely wouldn’t mind having a mini him and dear Sev around.


Now, how to bring it up to his darling husband?




Corban Yaxley gives a deep bow, eyes on the floor, “You called for me, Consort Slytherin?” His voice is smooth, but there’s a hint of pride at already being called to assist his Lord’s husband in any capacity.


“Yes, Yaxley,” Severus’ voice is barely more than a whisper, and yet Yaxley hangs onto every word, every letter, “I need you to fetch. . . a few things for me.”


Yaxley immediately agrees to do so, “Anything you wish, Consort.”


Severus smiles a smile so sharp Yaxley cannot help but shiver and almost (almost!) take a step back. “Very good, now listen well to what I will tell you.


“First thing you’ll do is go to Gringotts and give this letter—” Severus’ hand stray to a letter on the table in front him, the wax a dark red, “— to Bloodclaw in a private office, and then you’ll wait until he gives you two vials, one full of a black substance and the other a should be clear with specks of green and gold, do you understand?”


“Yes, Sire.”


“After that, take someone with you and go to 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. There, there will be a family of three; woman, a man, and a child. While the child will be in school, take the man and woman and get them here, in the lower dungeons— you which ones I’m talking about, correct?”


“Yes, of course, Sire.”


“They’re Muggles, so it should be no problem getting them. While I deal with them, you’ll stay here in the Manor.”


“As you wish, Sire. May I ask what they’ve done?” Yaxley hedges, hesitant and curious at once. While the Dark Lord would’ve punished him for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, Lord Slytherin wouldn’t; no, the Consort would only punish someone when they’ve royally messed up, and the punishments he dealt out made the Dark Lord’s Crucio s look rather welcoming and nice.


A few seconds of silence pass before Severus answers, and the cold fury in his voice is enough to have Yaxley stand up and bow once more. “They’ve hurt a magical child, Yaxley,” he hisses, eerily similar to his husband, but his answer is enough to awaken anger in Yaxley, who has heard enough tales of abused magical children to know just how judgmental Muggles could get.


“Worry not, Sire, I shall have them here before the week is over.” Yaxley promises, a sneer curled on his face.


“See to it that you do, Corban.”




“Narcissa, I am fine,” Severus sighs as Narcissa bloody Malfoy checks him over again , Lucius behind her with an apologetic look in his eyes. Marvolo is by the door, an amused smirk on his lips.


“You were gone for ten years, Severus! Ten ! So excuse me, if I wish to double check your health,” Narcissa glares at him, though it softens seconds later.


“Narcissa, flower, let him breathe,” Lucius takes his wife gently away from Severus, a hint of laughter in his tone. He and Narcissa had to run a few errands, otherwise Narcissa would’ve been by his bedside as much as Marvolo was, and isn’t that such a lovely thought?


“Narcissa, Lucius, let’s sit down, shall we?” Marvolo moves them over to the soft couches in their master suite, pulling Severus flushed right against himself. As they sit and get comfortable, a tea tray pops into existence on the coffee table in front of them, a multitude of biscuits, sweets, and teas on them. It is not lost on any of them that the sweets and biscuits are most of Severus’ favorites; clearly, the house elves are just as happy as the Dark side to have the Consort back.


“But truly, Severus, it’s incredible to have you with us again,” Lucius smiles at the Potions Master, the man who he privately considers his own younger brother.


Severus nods, “It’s good to be back, but we still have so much to do,” he takes a breath, taking a sip of his tea. Before they can change the conversation into talks of war, he decides to ask on another person.


“Lucius, Narcissa, how’s Draco?” He asks, and the smiles that light up the other two’s face is enough to make him seeth insults at Albus Dumbledore inwardly. If it weren’t for that stuck up, lemon-sucking bastard, he would’ve already been familiar with his Godson.


“He’s great, Severus. You know, he grew up with many tales about you, especially from Marvolo,” Narcissa laughs, her countenance fond as she thinks about her son.


Lucius joins in, “More than once he asked us to see photos of you, be it your bonding ceremony or school pictures. He would sit and ask us about you, about how we met you, and so forth. It was— still is— his favorite part of the day when he’d think of a question about you so that we’d tell him stories.”


Severus’ grin is stretching his cheeks, and Marvolo wants nothing more than to kiss his beloved serpent into oblivion.


How he survived those ten years, he has no idea. However, he refuses to go through such agony again, his husband will always be here with him in his arms and if things went his way, soon there’d be a child with them, too.

Chapter Text

“Is he asleep?” Marvolo asks his husband as he steps out of the bathroom, Severus having left to check on Harry once more before retiring for the night after the tiring day they all had.


“Yes,” Severus groans tiredly, untangling his braid. “He was worried about school and what was going to happen,”


Marvolo joins Severus in the bed, wandlessly and wordlessly nox ing the lights and tugging the blankets over them. “And what did you tell him?”


“I told him that school can wait, and until we figure out what to do he’ll be tutored.” Severus sinks into his husband’s arms, breathing in Marvolo’s scent. Marvolo laid his head on Severus’ hair, their legs tangling and hands wrapping around each other’s waist.


“And Harry just took it like that?”


Severus shifts a little, and Marvolo can feel the worry traveling through their bond, “To be honest, Marvolo, I think he’s somewhat in shock and probably afraid of how we’d react if he freaked out on us,”


Marvolo sighs, though he had expected as much. “We’ll deal with everything tomorrow, beloved. We still have much to do and much to discuss,”


“Mhm,” Severus’ breath slowly evens out, his sooty eyelashes occasionally brushing against Marvolo’s bared collarbones. Every so often, he’d mumble something quietly, never loud enough to distinguish what he’s exactly saying.


Marvolo doesn’t follow him immediately, instead tracing Severus’ face with the tip of his fingers; eventually, he kisses his Consort’s forehead and allows himself to settle within Morpheus’ realm.


Before he drifts off, though, he quietly whispers, sending a burst of love and affection through their bond,


“Goodnight, my beloved.”




Saturday morning, in Severus’ humble opinion, comes too soon and with it comes a letter from Lord and Lady Prince, formally inviting them for lunch in about a week from now. Severus himself is secretly glad that they didn’t ask to immediately meet him; he and Marvolo still have too much to do, and he cannot prioritize a lunch date above his other responsibilities.


Currently, he’s making his way to Harry’s room; it is time for breakfast, and he and Marvolo want the child to join them in the informal dining room so that he would relax in their presence. Entering the room, he smiles as he spies the child burrowed beneath a mound of blankets, Fawkes nowhere to be seen.


“Harry, child,” he says softly, running a hand through the child’s slightly greasy hair. Hmm, a bath is definitely in my order, “It’s time to wake up,”


Much to his surprise, Harry jolts awake immediately, wide eyes looking at him in fear and confusion, which turn to embarrassment once the child gets his bearings back.


“Sorry, Severus, I didn’t mean to react like that,” Harry apologizes, his cheeks a faint pink.


Just you bloody wait, Petunia, once I get my hands on you, you’ll be wishing for a quick death I’ll never grant, Severus thinks, though outwardly he only gives Harry a small smile and says, “It’s alright, Harry. Now, how about a quick shower? The house elves will leave some clothes for you, and Marvolo and I shall be waiting in the dining room.”


Harry nods, “If I may ask, where’s the dining room?” He bites his lip, looking up at Severus hesitatingly.


The Potions Master gives him a warm expression, “The elves will lead you there. Now, let us not delay any further.”




“Is there anything you wish to tell me, husband?” Severus asks lightly at the table, not lifting his eyes from the parchment in his hands, the one listing what potions and potions ingredients they currently have in store. Floating beside him is another parchment and a self-inking quill, noting down all that they need to restock on.


Marvolo hides his smile behind his copy of the Daily Prophet , not at all surprised that Severus quickly caught on to the fact that Marvolo wanted something and didn’t yet know how to approach the subject.


“Well, beloved,” he begins, setting the newspaper down, “I was thinking that perhaps we should blood-adopt Harry.”


Severus blinks, and the quill stops scratching, still in the air. His face betrays nothing as he next says, “And what made you reach that ?”


“Severus, you and I have always wanted a child of our own, didn’t we? Thus far, we know that Harry has no emotional connections to either the Dursleys or the Potters. And I do believe that there must’ve been a reason as to why the bloody Phoenix flashed Harry with you too,”


“But how can you be so sure that Harry will even accept? He might not like the Potters or Petunia’s family, but he hardly knows or trusts us enough to allow himself to be adopted by us,”


A small smile graces Marvolo’s face, a victorious glint in his ruby eyes, “We’ll simply have to show him that we’re the best parents; for starters, being an active part in his life without overwhelming him, helping him get out of his shell, support him, et cetera,”


“You’ve thought a lot about this, haven’t you?” Severus asks rhetorically, though he cannot help but imagine Harry’s laughter as the child runs around their Manor, a mix of him and Marvolo.


“Does that mean I have your agreement, precious?” Marvolo smirks, leaning over the table to give Severus a giant smooch.


“You absolute heathen!” Severus laughs, but the both of them jolt when they hear the giggles of a child. They turn as one, seeing Harry standing with Villy, Harry dressed in bronze and green robes.


Harry gives them a small, hesitant smile, stepping inside, “Good morning, Severus, Lord Slytherin.”


“Good morning, little one,” Marvolo greets, his lips quirking slightly when he hears Harry mutter ‘not that little’.


“Come, child, we have much to discuss,” Severus then says, and with that, they begin their breakfast.




Corban Yaxley walks into Gringotts Bank, carefully keeping an eye out for any more Order members. So far, he’s seen three in Diagon Alley, and he planned on informing his Lord and his Lord’s Consort the second his business was done; Dumbledore works fast, and if they aren’t aware of his movement, it could very well lead to their end.


Moving into to the closest teller, he leans over and quietly says, voice firm, “I wish to speak to Goblin Master Bloodclaw, privately.”


The teller stares at him in silence for a few seconds, apparently trying to decide on something. The goblin’s actions rises apprehension and curiosity in Corban, but he doesn’t let it show; whoever Bloodclaw is, he must be pretty important and high up in Goblin Hierarchy.


“Follow me,” the teller curtly tells him, immediately moving into a hallway and not looking back to check whether or not Corban is following him.


They take many turns and twists, too many for Corban to memorize the way. The more they go in, the colder the air becomes, until eventually Corban can see his own breath. Finally, they stop in front of an office, giant double doors made from a gleaming metal before them with no door handle or knob. Engraved in a deep red cursive on the doors is the name ‘ Bloodclaw’ .


The teller doesn’t knock, instead merely gesturing towards the doors before leaving. Corban rolls his eyes and raises his hand, but before he can knock, a rough voice from behind the doors calls out,


“Enter, wizard.”


The doors slowly open, surprisingly silent. Corban knows better than to make a goblin wait, and so he immediately moves inside, the doors closing behind him on their own, still as silent as before.


The office is slightly less cold than the hallway, and it’s filled with items and objects he has never seen before, though he can sense the magic leaking from them, a mixture of Dark and Grey. Bloodclaw sits at a desk, and his milky white eyes— no pupils— watch Corban with a bland expression on his scar riddles face.


Corban bows deep, as Goblin traditions dictate, and greets him, “Goblin Master Bloodclaw, may your gold overflow and your enemies cower beneath you,”


“Corban Yaxley, may your coffers never empty and your foes ever fear your wand,” the goblin greets back as he bows, and then a chair is conjured in front of the desk. Without further ado, Corban sits down, and goblin immediately gets down into business.


“How may I help you, Mr. Yaxley?”


Corban reaches into his robe pocket and pulls out the letter Consort Slytherin gave him. He hands over the letter to the goblin, who’s eyes widen slightly once the seal is uncovered.


Bloodclaw takes out a penknife and breaks the seal, taking the letter out. The next few moments are spent in silence as Bloodclaw reads the letter once, and then twice more. Finally, the goblin chuckles and sets the letter down.


Corban raises an eyebrow, but before he can ask the goblin gets down from his chair and says, “Stay here for a moment, wizard, while I go and fetch the necessities.” The goblin then leaves through a door that Corban didn’t notice before, leaving the wizard alone.


A few minutes later, the goblin returns, and in his hands he carries a silver box, its lid open enough for Corban to see the two, corked potion vials. Bloodclaw puts the box in front of Corban, said wizard leaning to peer inside; just like the Consort had said, one was full of a black substance that looked to be frozen solid, and the other one was filled with a clear substance that had specks of green and gold. However, unlike the first potion, this one was swirling around without any aid.


“Here you go, wizard, these are the potions your Consort has asked for.” The goblin grins, rows of metallic, sharp teeth making his countenance bloodthirsty.


Corban nods, allowing himself a small smirk. “Thank you for your help, Goblin Master Bloodclaw.”




“What’s Potter doing with that Mudblood?” Blaise asks in the middle of their discussion about what sort of food they imagined Salazar Slytherin would’ve like to eat, cutting Theo off.


Draco Malfoy blinks and then turns to where Blaise is staring, seeing Potter sitting with Granger at the Ravenclaw table. He frowns and says, “I don’t know, maybe they’re looking for the other Potter? I’ve heard some of the other Claws say they haven’t seen him since Dumbledore called him yesterday.”


“Hmm…” Blaise trails off, his eyes surveying the Great Hall; true to what Draco says, the other Potter is nowhere to be seen, and isn’t that such a curious thought.


Before Draco can ask any question or return to their previous discussion, the owls enter the Great Hall, and he immediately notices the Malfoy family’s owl, Hermes, whom Draco had named himself when he was a child and obsessed with Greek Mythology.


Hermes lands gracefully on Draco’s outstretched arm, nipping the blond’s ear affectionately and taking a bite of the offered bacon as Draco unties his mother’s letter.


Dear Draco , his mother’s elegant writing greets him.

How are you, my son? I trust that you’re doing well on your studies, and that nobody has been bothering you for any reason.


My Dragon, today at noon Professor McGonagall will be Floo’ing you home. No, Lucius and I will not tell you the reason why, however I believe that you’d be immensely happy when you get home.


Until then, I expect my Dragon not to allow himself to get carried away by curiosity.


All the love,


Mother & Father

Well, that’s not mysterious at all, Draco raises an eyebrow, though he tucks the letter away. Hermes gives him another nip before flying away.


As the rest of breakfast goes on, Draco cannot help but think over what his mother said, though he doesn’t let it show that he’s distracted; he’s a Slytherin, the second anybody notices his distraction they’ll take their chance and do Merlin knows what.

Chapter Text

“Tippy, Minty!” Marvolo calls after they finish breakfast, smiling slightly.


Not a second later two elves pop in, both bowing low. “Pinky,” Marvolo begins, “Go and prepare Harry a room, Harry himself will tell you what colors he’d like. Minty, from now on you are Harry’s personal house elf. I trust that you have no problem with that?”


Pinky bows and pops out with an excited squeak, and Minty nods vigorously. “No problem at all, Master Darkness. Minty be honoured to care for Little Master!”


“Just call me Harry, please,” Harry interjects, but Minty shakes his head.


“No, no, Little Master be called Little Master! Come, Little Master, room colours need to be chosen!” Minty very, very gently pulls Harry with him after Harry, a little dazed, bids Severus and Marvolo goodbye for now.


“You know, beloved,” Marvolo muses as their finished breakfast is taken away. “You still have not told me what you needed Yaxley for,”


Severus raises an eyebrow, the previous parchment in which he wrote what potions and potions ingredients they needed back in his hands. “Why, dear husband, I told him to get dear Tuney and her darling husband,”


“Is that so? Very good, the sooner I get to curse them the better,”


“I also told him to get the potions I stored in Gringotts,”


Marvolo’s eyes widen, not in shock but in delight, and when he speaks next he speaks in Parseltongue:


Very, very good.




“In you go, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall gestures towards the fireplace, a pot of Floo powder held in her hand.


Draco doesn’t hesitate and takes the powder, throwing it and stating his destination— Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire— clearly.


He waits a few seconds to make sure that his footing is correct and that he won’t stumble when he goes out into the receiving room, keeping his steps even and light as his father has taught him before.  


Said father is waiting for him with his mother, a small, barely there smile on their usually cold face. His mother opens her arms for a hug when he’s near enough, smoothing a hand down his hair while his father puts a hand on his shoulder.


“Good afternoon, Dragon,” Father says.


“Good afternoon, Father, Mother. How’re you both?” Draco smiles and asks, and as his parents answer his heys spy Uncle Marvolo getting into the room, and thus his smile becomes bigger.


“Uncle Marvolo! What’re you doing here? Not that I don’t like seeing you, of course,”


Uncle Marvolo chuckles, “Hello to you too, Draco. I am here because we have a surprise for you, one that I’m sure will make you undoubtedly  happy.”


The adults exchange an amused glance, one that Draco doesn’t miss but also doesn’t comment on. “Well,” he frowns, “What’s this surprise?”


“Now now, Draco,” Father drawls, steering him towards Uncle Marvolo by his shoulder gently. “It wouldn’t be a surprise anymore if we told you what it is before hand, would it? Let us make haste, your surprise is as impatient as you are.”


The last bit of what Father says has Draco impossibly even more curiouser, and by the amused glint in Uncle Marvolo’s eyes Draco can feel his confusion rise as well. It is not often that he sees Uncle Marvolo be amused or content at something; he, as a Dark Lord, has many responsibilities and paperwork he had to do, and so it was rare for him to relax.


Father, Mother, ans Uncle Marvolo lead him to the Blue Room, and Draco, with a pang of sadness, immediately recalls when his Mother told him that this room had been his Godfather’s favorite, the many pale shades and hues of blue often helping him calm down should a Death Eater be exceptionally stupid. They stop in front of the double doors, made of sturdy white wood and engraved with an intricate design of various types of birds, and each door has a knob made of expensive crystal that the elves make sure to keep all nice and clean.


“Go on, Draco,” Uncle Marvolo gently nudges him forward, motioning towards the doors. “I believe the honour should be yours.”


Draco raises an eyebrow, but nods, twisting the knobs and thus opening the doors.  


He can only hope that he’ll actually like his surprise.




“Hello, Draco,” a man— so painfully familiar— says, a gentle smile on his lips as he rises from a chair. His hair reaches to his the middle of his back, and his dark eyes are warm.


“Godfather?” Draco breathes, whipping around to stare at his Father and Uncle Marvolo is disbelief and tentative hope. Both men smile, Father nudging him gently into the room further.


“He’s real, Dragon,” Father answers his unsaid question with a note of laughter in his tone, leaning down slightly. “Your Godfather has truly returned to us.”


Draco, breaking out into a smile and without caring much for etiquettes and stuffy manners, rushes to his Godfather and hugs him tightly, nuzzling against the man’s chest. He smells really nice, Draco thinks as his Godfather’s arms wrap around him, the man laughing quietly. Almost like Uncle Marvolo. Too busy hugging, Draco is unaware of his Father and Uncle Marvolo leaving them alone in the room.


“I have heard so much about you!” Draco breathes after he, hesitatingly, loosens his hold on his Godfather.


Severus laughs again, settling down on a comfortable, cream-colored settee with Draco nestled against his side. “As have I, Dragon— may call you that?” At Draco’s nod, Severus continues. “Your Mother and Father told me a lot about you, and so did Marvolo.”


“Nothing embarrassing, I hope,” Draco huffs, a slight flush to his pale cheeks.


Severus smirks, “No, Narcissa said she’d show me memories instead,” he chuckles at the groan the child emits, running a band through the blond hair so much like Lucius’.


“Uncle Severus?” Draco wonders a bit later.


“Yes, Dragon?”


“Mother and Father told me a lot about their school years with you, but they refused to tell me how you and Uncle Marvolo met because they thought that you should be the one to tell me. So I was wondering, how did you two meet?”


Uncle Severus’ smile is so fond that Draco, for that small, single instance, wishes that in the future he’d have someone he can think about as fondly as Uncle Severus does Uncle Marvolo and vise versa.


“We met during one of your Grandfather’s annual Yule Balls,” Uncle Severus’ tone is tinged with affection as he talks. “Some idiot had been bothering me all evening, and when I went to the gardens to get some fresh air, he had followed me. When he made another attempt to apparently impress me, I cracked, drew my wand on him, and called him name upon name, and just before I could start insulting his House, Marvolo came with the idiot’s Lord of House and Abraxas, who weren’t too happy with the idiot either.


Back then, I didn’t know he was the Dark Lord, only that he was a handsome stranger who thankfully saved me from dealing with the repercussions of insulting one’s House. Later, after the idiot had been taken away, he introduced himself as Lord Slytherin. I was very taken with him, Draco, I could not stop thinking about him for days afterward!” Severus exclaims, chuckling a bit.


“And then?”


“A few days later, your Father sent a letter inviting me to a private dinner with him, Narcissa, Abraxas, and to my surprise, Lord Slytherin. I agreed, of course; not only were I close to your parents, but I was also curious to know more about this interesting Lord Slytherin. During the dinner, somehow your Father and Grandfather— sly snakes they are— managed to make the topic about obscure potions and spells, which in turn made Marvolo and I have a very lively discussion about our respective fields. After we were done, Marvolo invited me to have a look at Salazar Slytherin’s famed library.”


Slowly, Draco grins, “So was it love at first sight, or…?”


Severus pinches Draco’s cheek gently, “No, you cheeky monkey. You can say it was interest at first sight.”


Draco rubs his cheek, and from then on, he begins asking all the questions he has wanted to ask for years .




“So, he’s fine?” Hermione asks Leo dubiously, obviously still in disbelief. They’re once more in the Library, the only place where Thomas and Weasley won’t follow Leo into.


Leo shrugs, though he looks as unconvinced as she feels. “Apparently yes. Mom and Dad say that our Muggle cousin has had an accident and wanted Harry to be with him.”


Hermione eyes him, looking for any sign that he might be lying, but she finds nothing. Admitting defeat inwardly, she sighs. “Well then, thank you for informing me.”


“You’re welcome,” Leo says, and then he begins fidgeting with the letter in his hands. “I know that you and I aren’t really friends, but I was wondering if I could hang out with you? The others in Gryffindor are nice and all that but most of them only see the Boy–Who–Lived and not me, average Leo Potter,” he blushes, avoiding looking her in the eye.


Hermione smiles, and then gently tugs him down to sit beside her. “Sure, Leo, so as long as you don’t insult me or my friends again.”


Leo grins, and settles down comfortably on the chair. “Of course, Hermione. I wouldn’t dream of it!”

Chapter Text

“Thank you, Pinky. This is beyond amazing!” Harry exclaims, his green eyes open in awe as he stares at his own room, located in the West Wing of Slytherin Manor.


His room is a mix of grey, dark blue, and white; the wall in front of his bed— a bed bigger than anything he’s seen, and that included the bed in Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia master room— is painted blue with the world map painted on with shades of grey and white. The floorboards are a dark wood that contrast nicely with the fluffy rug set upon it, and another side of the room leads to a balcony.


Pinky beams at him, her large eyes teary. “Pinky be so happy to help Little Master!” She says. “Is there anything Little Master like before Pinky goes?”


“No, Pinky. This is more than enough, thank you again.”


Pinky smiles again and then bows, popping out. Harry moves to sit on one of the delicate, white chairs laid in the balcony, appreciating the cloudy weather. Now that he is alone— Minty having left to apparently ask either Master Darkness and Master Consort about something— he can finally just. . . try to comprehend what has happened so far. Try to understand why Lord Slytherin and his Consort are so nice to him without any good reason.


They just accepted him, and even though they clearly didn’t like his Uncle and Aunt and Lily and James, they still didn’t reject him or throw him away or, say, return him to either pair. But how long before they do? At some point, they’ll get angry at something he does and then they’d give him away, wouldn’t they? r


But how long will it take for him to upset them? Lily and James didn’t want him and left him with two demons and their spawn be didn’t like him either. Therefore, something, at the very least, must be wrong with him for his own blood parents to hate him to such a level. Something that only they can see.


Now, just how long will it take before these two men see— as Uncle and Aunt call it— his freakishness?




“Seriously, how do Muggles find it in themselves to accept this?” Rabastan Lestrange wrinkles his nose as he and Corban Yaxley, under several Notice-Me-Nots and Muggle-Repelling Charms, spy on the residents of 4 Privet Drive. His wand is held lazily in his hand, and his disgust grows further when he hears what that horse-faced filth calls her son.


Who in their right mind call their own son ‘Dudders’? It sounds like a disease, Rabastan snickers, stifling it when Corban turns to look at him questioningly. Corban rolls his eyes, and both return to watching the plain, boring house, and they watch silently as the mini-walrus child waves goodbye to his parents before going, presumably, to school.


“Remember, Rabastan, today we’re only checking to see if there are any wards here and what types they could be,” Corban reminds the younger Lestrange brother after the walrus of a man leaves in that unique machine Maggles call a car, and thus leaving only the woman in the house.


“Yes, yes, you’ve reminded me enough times, Corban,” Rabastan rolls his eyes, and with that, the pair begin to work.




“What have you achieved so far?” Lord Voldemort asks his Inner Circle sans Yaxley and the younger Lestrange, his red eyes cold and his voice a hissing quality to it. Nagini is curled around his shoulders, hissing ever so often just to taste the slight fear in the air.


Rookwood, unofficially the leader of this ‘gift’, starts speaking, his tone clear. “So far, My Lord, we have secured the details of capturing Arthur Weasley, Remus Lupin, and Jacob Wright,”


Nagini gives a delight hiss at the first two names, while Voldemort himself raises an eyebrow at the third name. “Jacob Wright?” He wonders, stroking Nagini’s lustrous scales.


“He’s a new Order member, My Lord,” Antonin Dolohov inform him. “An Auror, I believe.”


Lord Voldemort hums and lets the silence stretch on for a few moments, before speaking once more. “Then I take it that there has been no obstacle so far?”


“You are correct, My Lord,” Augustus confirms in a confident voice. “Everything has been going well.”


“Then I shall not ask how you will achieve in your endeavors,” Lord Voldemort says. “Consider this… a sort of test, if you will; to see how good my Death Eaters can do their missions without my input.”


The Death Eaters, now definitely more excited, nod and murmurs of “Yes, My Lord,” fill the air before Rodolphus Lestrange, sitting besides his wife, asks Voldemort a questions.


“My Lord, should we inform you of when the gift is ready?”


“Yes, Rodolphus. In fact, you’ll inform me of when you plan to capture them and when you’ll plan to present them.”


Rodolphus nods. “As you wish, My Lord.”


Lord Voldemort gets up and leaves, but not before warning them from entering the West Wing of the Manor. The Death Eaters, definitely knowing better than to disagree or question why, immediately agree.


“Tell me, Rookwood, have you any idea where Yaxley and my dear brother-in-law are?” Bellatrix then leans over the table to ask, smacking a few annoying strands of hair away from her face.


Augustus scratches his chin, “I believe the Consort had a mission for them or something; they didn’t tell me much more about it.”


“The Consort has sent them away so soon? I would’ve thought he would’ve rest at least a bit more,” Julius Parkinson, having heard them, cuts in, frowning.


“Please, Julius, everyone knows what the Consort is like,” Rodolphus rolls his eyes. “He always has to do something, otherwise his restlessness will result in potion explosions one after the other.”


“Remember the day the Dark Lord banned him from the labs?” Bellatrix snickers. “I think he was considering building an entire new Wing, and that was after he questioned the prisoners!”


While Bellatrix, unique woman that she is, might have enjoyed the Consort’s restlessness that day, Rodolphus certainly hadn’t. He believes that if he tried hard enough, he might even remember the smell of the acid and the burning flesh




“Hmm, perhaps this one would be better? But then it requires the victim to be willing. . .” Albus Dumbledore sighs as he sets the ancient tome down gently, aware of how fragile it has become due to its age.


He takes another tome from the bookshelf hidden behind his bed, this one made from dark animal skin and written with blood, practically dripping with volatile magic. He skims through it until he reaches the chapter he’s looking for; Most Vile Rituals .


Lady Fortuna must be on his side, for the first ritual he reads is the best one out of all the others he’s searched so far. A smile, twisted and evil, stretches across his lips and he sits down on a comfortable chair.


Calling for an elf to bring him wine, even though it isn’t time for dinner yet, he settles down with the book and begins reading some more.


Who know, he might find a better ritual. Or the book might even give him a better idea than simply taking Severus’ magic.


Surely, there must be something even more painful than that?

Chapter Text



Severus looks up at his husband, not pausing in running his hand through Draco’s blond hair. The child, tuckered out, had fallen asleep while Severus was talking about his experience as the apprentice of the famed romanian Potions Master Octavian Bolohan, and so Severus had pulled child’s head down unto his lap, calling for a house elf to bring him a blanket so that he may cover the Malfoy Heir. Said Heir, once feeling the blanket, had sighed contently with a smile and snuggled further into the his Godfather’s soft robes.


Severus hums, smiling slightly when Marvolo leans down to give his forehead a kiss before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He takes a breath, smelling the lovely incense Narcissa liked to leave in the many rooms of the Malfoy Manor.


“Minty says Pinky has finished Harry’s bedroom,” Marvolo tells him, his hand resting on Severus’ cheek and tracing the soft skin of his husband. “And he’s now asking permission to go buy Harry some children’s book.”


“Children’s books?” Severus raises an eyebrow, though they both know that Severus himself would’ve ordered it if the elves didn’t think about it.


“No son of mine is going to miss out on those stories, my dear Sev, especially the animated ones,” Marvolo frowns and sniffs indignantly, looking awfully like Lucius with that haughty expression. Though Severus doubts that anybody would be able to surpass Lucius in that regard.


“I wouldn’t dare imply such an outrageous thing like that, my love,” His tone is rather dry, but the corners of his mouth twitch upward.


Marvolo huffs, but he doesn’t keep up the pretense for long; instead, he leans down once more to kiss his husband properly this time, peace flowing through their mindlink.




“. . . and so yeah, that’s what the Headmaster’s planning,” James finishes off with a flourishing wave of his hand, looking proud of himself.


Sirius takes a swing of his butterbeer and then laughs; a sound much like the barking of a dog. “Ha!” He exclaims, quite the happy man. “Snivellus without his magic, what a sight that must be!”


“It won’t hurt him, would it, though?” Lily worries her bottom lip between her teeth, gnashing on the flesh lightly. The steam of her tea flows near her face, but her green eyes still pop out rather exquisitely— at least they do so in James’ humble opinion.


The Auror shakes his head, “Nah,” he says dismissively. “Professor Dumbledore said that he’ll be a bit sore, but nothing a pain potion wouldn’t be able to fix. Besides, who cares if he’s sore, Lils? Or have you forgotten just how many good witches and wizards he’s killed? Being sore still wouldn’t be a good compensation for all the lives he’s taken,”


Lily flinches, but she also nods in agreement; she cannot deny the many murders Severus was— is  responsible for, and that was without mentioning what other Dark activities he might have had done without them knowing it yet. Lord only knows what he could be doing to her precious Harry.


No! Her mind vocally disagrees with what she calls Harry. He’s no longer mine, not anymore. He’s Dark; corrupted. Gone and no longer mine.


“But before we can do anything we have to catch him first, though,” Sirius is saying when she returns to the present and away from her thoughts, setting her cooled cup down. He has finished his butterbeer, and is now running a hand through his hair.


“He’s not bloody omnipotent, Padfoot,” James rolls his eyes. “At one point he’d mess up and then boom , we take him and take his wretched magic away.”


Sirius nods with a large grin and laughs, “Ooh, just imagine his face when he realizes what’s going to happen! It would be the memory I’d start using for my Patronus!”


Her mind still quietly seething over the fact that Severus stole her son from her, Lily laughs along with James and Sirius. Yes, she’ll only forgive him when his magic is gone, thus ensuring that he won’t stray away from the Light ever again.


“Where’s Remus, anyways?” She then asks after clearing her head of those thoughts, taking a sip of her tea even if it tastes terrible when cold.


This time, it’s Sirius who answers. “Dumbledore sent him to try and recruit a pack, before You-Know-Who and Greyback do it,” he informs her, now frowning with worry.


James runs a hand through his permanently-messy hair and sighs quite loudly. “Much as I trust Moony’s diplomatic abilities, I highly doubt they’d join us,” something dark and ugly filters across his face as he continues. “Considering all the lies You-Know-Who loves to feed those packs.”


Sirius and Lily agree grimly; for the longest time, You-Know-Who and his cohorts have managed to secure the alliance and loyalty of most Dark creatures, and thusly increasing his ever-growing army.


Lily truly fears what would happen should those creatures finally be allowed to roam free. Lord knows just how ruined and— and freakish everything would become.


As for Moony, well, he is an exception because for one, Dumbledore vouched for him in secret and Lily trusts Dumbledore to always know best, and two, because the Light influence of Dumbledore on Moony probably cancelled out any Dark aspects in Remus.




Harry sighs in annoyance and irritation as he closes the stupid book in his lap, the cover worn and the pages yellowed with age. Rather harshly, he sets it down and slams it shut, rubbing his eyes roughly to get rid of the image of letter he’s never seen before. He moves from the desk and unto the bed, sitting with his back to the headboard as he, inwardly, calls the book thousands of names that should not be said in polite company.


A quiet knock at the door cuts his train of thought, a grin blooming on his face when he hears Severus’ voice through the door.


“Harry, child, may we come in?”


Harry smoothes a hand down his robes, and then clears his throat softly before answering . “Yeah, of course!” He says, standing up.


“There’s no need to stand up when it’s only us, Harry,” Marvolo tells him gently, patting his shoulder and ignoring his tiny flinch at the action. He and Severus sit on the bed near Harry, their shoulders touching and Severus’ hand loosely curled around Marvolo’s.


Harry blushes and nods. “I just can’t help, but I’ll try to stop doing it,” he says, and then his eyes widen as he notices a snake, bigger than anything he’s ever seen including the Boa Constrictor at the Zoo, slithers out from Marvolo’s robes, its yellow, slitted eyes watching Harry.


Distantly, the boy wonders if Marvolo’s robes are charmed or something in order to be able to hide a snake of that incredible size, but otherwise he’s thinking of the many ways— many scary way—  in which said snake could kill him.


“. . .—Harry!” Harry blinks, only now noticing the worried looks on the men’s face. He’s also aware of the snake now wrapped around Severus’ chest and shoulders, its head resting on Severus’ hair.


“Am I actually seeing a snake?” He breathes out, voice dripping with disbelief and a teeny, tiny bit of hysteria.


Marvolo chuckles, rubbing the snake’s dark scales. “Why yes, you are seeing a snake. My familiar, in fact.”


Harry’s mouth opens slightly in awe, and then, as the snake hisses, he gets even more awed and amazed when Marvolo hisses back to the snake!


As the snake and Marvolo hiss to each other, Harry cannot help but ask Severus a question: “Um, Mr. Severus? Are Mr. Marvolo and the snake. . . talking?”


Severus frowns for second, presumably at being addressed as ‘Mr’, but then he gives a soft grin. “Indeed, Harry, they are talking. Marvolo, being of the Slytherin bloodline, has the ability to understand and speak with snakes in a language called Parseltongue .”


Harry grins back at the man. “Wicked,” he decides, eyes glimmering.


Sometging crosses Severus’ face, something gentle and warm, but it’s gone as it came. Instead, the man sets his right hand on Harry’s shoulder, hesitatingly reaching to run his left hand through Harry’s hair.


Harry still cannot stop himself from flinching just a tiny bit, but he also doesn’t stop Severus; the Potions Master and Marvolo have been nothing but nice and gentle with him ever since Fawkes flashed them here to Slytherin Manor. He’ll take whatever affection they’ll give him before they decide on throwing his away.


“Harry, my child, there’s no need to call Marvolo and I ‘Mister’ or anything of that sort, alright? Just calling us Marvolo and Severus is more than enough,” Severus says to him, patting his shoulder gently before removing both of his hands.


With a very faint tinge of pink  to his cheeks and a tiny smile, Harry nods. “Of course. . . Severus.”


Severus gives him a proud grin, and that’s when Marvolo and his familiar metaphorically step back into the conversation.


“Harry,” Marvolo says, an excited look in his eyes, which captured the attention of both said child and his darling husband. “I’d like you to meet my long-time friend and familiar, Nagini,”


The snake hisses (maybe she’s delighted?) and stretches her long body, leaning her close to Harry’s.


Harry gulps quietly, and after getting twin encouraging looks from both men, reaches out to

pat her head and introduces himself, grinning when Nagini flicks her forked tongue.


As it is, he’s oblivious to the rather victorious smile the two husbands share between themselves.


Soon enough, if everything went correctly and they had Lady Fortuna’s blessing, they’d have a child they could call their own.

Chapter Text

Yaxley and Lestrange bow as Marvolo enters the parlour, Yaxley holding a familiar silver box in his hands while Lestrange is still holding his wand.


“My Lord,” they both greet in a clear voice, waiting for him to grant them permission to stand. Slightly, they flinch as they hear the familiar hissing of Nagini as she slithers along with their Lord, Voldemort responding to the giant serpent in the same sibilant tones.


“Yaxley, Lestrange, done with your tasks?”


“We’re not finished with the Muggles yet, My Lord,” Yaxley says. “But I have, indeed, retrieved what the Consort has asked for.”


“Very good.” their Lord praises them slightly, before he addresses Rabastan. “Most of elite are currently at Lagrange Hall, Rabastan. Go and join them while Corban finishes here.”


Rabastan, although very curious as to what the Consort could’ve asked for, nods and bows once more, floo’ing away in a burst of green flames.


“If I may ask, My Lord, where would I find the Consort?”


Lord Voldemort doesn’t look at him as he replies, instead watching the way Nagini’s body twists and turns as she wraps herself around his shoulders and waist. “You’ll find Severus in the West Library, Corban. Do not dally.”


“Thank you, My Lord, and I shall not.”




“Yes, Yaxley?” The Cosort doesn’t look up from the parchment upon which he is writing on, the elegant, white quill dipped in black ink in his hand and scratching away. A black-feathered, Great Horned Owl sits on a perch beside him, grooming itself while watching the Consort with its wide, yellow eyes. Tenebris is an owl that Lord Malfoy had gotten Severus as a birthday gift years back, and the owl has long since become a familiar sight to the Death Eaters and in Slytherin Manor, either hunting mice or carrying letters and such.


Corban takes the silver box out of his enchanted satchel, presenting it silently. It is then that the Consort sets the parchment and quill down, moving immediately to take the box and set it on the table, next to the ink bottle. Much to Corban’s slight confusion, he does not check to see if the potion vials are in there or not.


“You have pleased me greatly, Corban,” he murmurs, steepling his fingers and looking over his servant with a barely there smile.


Corban, although would deny it if asked, puffs his chest slightly in pride. “It’s an honour for me to do so, Sire.” He says.


“Finish the other task, Corban, and you’ll be rewarded by the Dark Lord and I.”




After Corban leaves, Marvolo and Harry, along with Nagini, come into the Library, Nagini happily hissing to Harry even though the boy clearly doesn’t understand what she’s saying. Marvolo’s arm is curled around Harry’s shoulders, his fingers barely touching the boy.


Harry’s gem-like eyes are wide with wonder as he surveys the giant shelves filled with more books than he’s ever imagined, and Marvolo and Severus can clearly see the way his fingers twitch to just grab onto a book and read it. His eyes then turn to Severus, mesmerized by the sheer elegance in the way the man writes whatever it is he’s writing. He thinks that they might be symbols— runes, perhaps? But either way, he’s still not sure what they could be or mean. He also notices a box, a gleaming silver, is set upon the table, but he couldn’t see any sort of latch or anything on it.


“Harry, husband,” Severus greets simply, though he does shoot a happy smile at Harry. His hand pauses in writing, reaching out to stroke Harry’s hair with a gentle touch.


“Hi, Severus!” Still amazed by the Library, Harry greets him rather enthusiastically, a grin stretching across his face.


Severus chuckles, wordlessly and wandlessy Accio’ing a fluffy beanbag, the one that never fails to make his asleep in no time. “Pick a book, my child, and then sit down if you wish,” Severus says, gesturing to the beanbag.


Harry whispers a quiet, but grateful ‘Thank you’ and then bolts off, the prospect of so many books, so much knowledge makes him eager enough to actually have a tiny bounce in his step. Nagini follows him immediately, and unknown to him, grumbles about ‘hyper Grand-hatchlings not watching their steps’.


Marvolo moves to kiss his husband hungrily after making sure to charm the place so that they’d be aware of Harry’s return, his arms wrapping tightly around Severus’ waist to cup those cheeks through the robes and pull the other man’s body flush against himself.


“Have you any idea—” Marvolo murmurs against his beloved’s lovely lips. “— just how enticing and beautiful you look?”


He feels Severus’ smile against his neck, a tongue swiping across his jaw to peck the spot behind his ear. “You’ve told me more than enough times, my love,” Severus says cheerfully, now toying with the lapels of Marvolo’s robes.


They both jolt away to a more respectable stance, however, when the charm rings, alerting them to Harry’s return. Said child raises an eyebrow at the flush on both men’s cheeks, but he otherwise stays silent and plops down onto the beanbag, immediately settling down with a comfortable sigh with Nagini curling in front of him.


“Found something you like, Harry?” Marvolo smiles softly, threading his hand through his precious husband’s lovely hair. Harry’s smiles stretches more as he watches the display— the most Uncle Vernon did for Aunt Petunia was calling her ‘pet’, but they otherwise were sure to keep themselves from showing any sort of affection even in the privacy of their own house.


“Yeah,” Harry nods, and raises his book so that the title is showing: Interesting Feats of Transfiguration Throughout the Ages. “I read a bit before I picked it, and some of the things it described were really cool and wicked!” Harry then bites his lips, his features now nervous. “Uh— I am allowed to read this, right?”

Severus frowns. “Harry, child, you’re allowed to read whichever book you want, whenever you want, without asking for permission from either Marvolo or I,” He says firmly, staring at Harry in the eye to make his point. “Any books that we wouldn’t want you to read are not in this Library, nor are they easy to get to, so rest assured that you’ve done nothing wrong, child.”


Harry gives them a brilliant smile, so different from the shy and small ones he’s given them that it makes them both want to speed up the process of integrating him into their little family.


So as long as they kept on taking care of him without giving too much away, then they’d successfully have him with them in no time.




“. . . . —And they all looked like the same thing! Same colours, same gardens; there wasn’t a single thing that would distinguish one house from another aside from their designed numbers!” Rabastan huffs as he knocks back his Firewhiskey, Antonin and Barty to him in exasperation and clear disgust at what they were hearing.  


“They’re Muggles, Rabastan.” Antonin’s lips quirk up in a smirk. “I’m not truly that surprised that they’re so bland and lackluster. I mean, honestly, what more could you expect from them?”


“I wasn’t that surprised either, Dolohov,” Rabastan rolls his eyes. “But still, I fail to understand how they can stand it,”


“How about intstead of judging Muggle decor,” Barty cuts in suddenly, an eyebrow rasied. “We talk about what Yaxley retrieved for the Consort?”


“It must’ve been something important,” Rabastan murmurs. “I mean, why else would they only send one person after it and keep whatever it is such a secret?”


“I agree with you there, Lestrange.” Antonin chuckles, playing with one of the rings on his fingers. “Perhaps it’s some book the Ministry’s forbidden?” He then suggests as he rubs his chin with his thumb and index finger.


“Or maybe it’s his wand?” Barth throws in, and at te confused looks the other two adorn he explains: “When they imprisoned the Consort, they failed to take his wand before our Lord did. So maybe it was that?”


Rabstan makes a contemplative hum, but then shrugs. “Eh, who cares what it is the Consort wants? I, myself, believe that whatever it is it will help us greatly in this war.”


Barty and Antonin, sharing a glance, also agree with him a few seconds later.




“I am done with this, Albus!” Madam Bones snaps, her voce barely raised.


Albus raises his hands in a motion of placating her, although he internally seethes over the way she’s speaking to him. How dare this wretched woman , he thinks inwardly with a hidden sneer. Have the audacity to speak to me so rudely!?


“You tried to do this years ago and you’re trying it again, so let me be very frank with you: Severus Slytherin and Marvolo Slytherin are not Death Eater nor do they have the Dark Mark! Last I talked with Lord Slytherin he told me that Consort Slytherin was out of the country, and he still remains so. So no, I will not have the Aurors raid their Manor just because you asked.” She finishes off, an annoyed frown on her face.


Albus stays silent for a few seconds, and then sighs dejectedly like a weary grandfather. “Very well,” he says. “I shall leave the matter to rest. But I still stand by what I say, Madam Bones. Those two are Death Eaters, and they’re one of the most vicious ones.”


Madam Bones doesn’t answer him, merely gesturing towards the fireplace so that he may Floo and leave her to the peaceful silence of her office. Albus does so, and hidden in the sleeves of his robes, his hands clench and unclench repeatedly in an attemt to keep his rage to himself.


Damn those two to hell and back! He sneers and kicks the elf that was cleaning his office after he gets out from the fireplace, the elf popping away immediately.


Casting a silencing charm, he rages and screams, pacing the length of the room and frezzing the annoying portraits of precious Headmasters and Headmistress. And even then, Phineas Nigellus Black’s eyes still stare at him in a way that makes him feel tiny and insignificant, two emotions he’s unfamiliar with and would rather remain so.  


“One day,” he snarls as be tears Fawkes’ recently fixed perch apart with his magic. “One day, I’ll have those two beaten beneath my feet, regardless of whatever it takes.”

Chapter Text

Fawkes trilled happily to himself as he flew out of Ollivander’s shop, a wand, bone-white pale with swirling patterns, clutched in his talons.


He was very wise bird, and so he knew that he could simply flash back to Slytherin Manor, but he also preferred flying over flashing from place to place. Ollivander the Wandmaker had been kind enough to put a temporary invisibility spell over him, ensuring that no wizard or witch would see him in the sky with that particular, unique wand.


The child, Harry, would need that wand sooner or later considering that his own, current wand could pass as barely functional. Why should it function, when Fawkes gave only one of those two feathers willingly? The cruel Headmaster had plucked the second feather from him by force, thus ensuring that whatever power that laid within that feather turned to dust. Poor Ollivander nearly blew his shop apart while trying to bond the second feather to the wood!


But Fawkes could now fully rest once he delivered the new wand to the boy’s soon-to-be-parents; oh, the two tried valiantly to hide it, but Fawkes could clearly see their deep longing for a child! Sure, yes, Severus Slytherin at any point could’ve made and drank one of those potions that magically produced the necessary internal parts and organs needed for a full-term pregnancy, but with the war looming over the horizon the two men considered it too great of a risk to do so.


But Fawkes, the smart Phoenix that was once the Familiar of Godric Gryffindor himself, knew that Harry would be perfect for them both! That is, of course, once they helped the child heal from the trauma and abuse he had been forced to endure for so long under the hands of those cruel and disgusting Muggles.


It didn’t matter of the child was magical or Muggle, abusing them was still wrong! And quite frankly, Fawkes had no patience, love, or any good feeling for those monsters who did such things. Which was why he had taken the chance and escaped with Harry and Severus; seeing the manipulative Headmaster angry was a treat all on its own, and Fawkes endeavored to make sure the man won’t remember what peace felt like until his dying day— and maybe not even then.


Swooping down joyously as he flew, Fawkes made his way to the Manor, ready to help these wizards and their cause.




“Husband,” Severus sighed, as though troubled. His fingers tapped on the silver box before him, tracing its edges and barely-seen runes that he carved onto it in the beginning himself. Glancing up to look at Marvolo’s ruby eyes, he saw the he had the man’s complete attention.


“Yes, beloved?” Marvolo eventually asked, setting the report in his hand down onto the lap desk.


“I need 60 Muggles; all adults, gender and anything else doesn’t matter, preferably alive.”


Marvolo raised an eyebrow. “I knew you had gotten the potion from Bloodclaw, but are you sure it’s safe to start creating them again so soon?”


“It is a bit soon, all things considered,” Severus said. “But you and I know that Dumbledore has already started planning and meddling, so it might be better for us to be prepared.”


Marvolo sighed, but then he nodded as his eyes landed on Harry. The child, unsurprisingly, had fallen asleep in the beanbag with the book tucked underneath his arm. Severus had ordered an elf to fetch a blanket, and after moving Harry into a more comfortable position, had draped said blanket over the child.


“How soon do you need them, love?” He instead asked, smiling a bit when the child puffed a breath in his sleep and burrowed further into the blanket.


“I want them to be here no later than a month, husband,” Severus took his hand off the silver box, taking the parchment to read over it again. His dark eyes took in the drawn runes; he had memorized these particular ones ages ago, but it was still better to write them, just in case. Of course, he’d burn the parchment once he was done so that none would get any idiotic ideas and try to do it.


“We’ll have to take them from multiple countries,” Marvolo mused. “It would do us no good if the Muggles started wondering why so many people in one town disappeared in the same night,”


“I’ll leave it to you to figure out how to do it, my love,” Severus chuckled, picking Nagini up so that she could curl around him.


“Your Hatchling is too thin and small,” Nagini hissed, and if snakes could glare then Nagini definitely was doing it. “Why aren’t you taking care of him?”


Marvolo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s been here for only a day, Nagini,” he explained. “It’ll take some time before we can fix the damage the Muggles have inflicted on him.”


Nagini huffed, letting her tail smack against the back of Severus’ chair. “Can I eat those Muggles? They don’t deserve to live if they hurt their own Hatchlings in such disgusting manners,”


“You’ll have your chance at them, my dear,” Severus assured her, sharing an amused glance with his husband.


“When will you get them here?”


“Yaxley will bring them here,” Marvolo said.


“One of your followers?” Nagini raised her head to look at him, her forked tongue flicking out to taste the strange flavor in the air. Something felt off, for the lack of better word.


Marvolo made a sound of confirmation in the back of his throat, though his eyes weren’t on his Familiar or Severus. No, he was focused on the way Harry’s expression twisted into one of fear and pain ever so often, his mouth moving but no sounds coming out.


“Should we wake him?” Severus bit his lip and got up from his chair without taking Nagini off or waiting for his husband to answer. He crouched, hesitantly combing a hand through Harry’s wild mess of a hair.


Harry let out a tiny, barely heard whimper, sweat gathering upon his brow. “Sorry— so sorry, Aunt Petunia. Didn’t— no— didn’t mean to,” Harry muttered as he wiggled around, his whimpers now more frequent.


“Harry, child, wake up,” Severus said into his ear, rubbing his ear. When that didn’t work, he taised his voice and shook Harry a little bit, saving everything Harry said and muttered into the back of his mind to review later.


“NO!— Severus. . . ?” Harry panted as he suudenly awoke, kicking the blanket off and looking around. He breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized the Library, the image of Aunt Petunia’s pristine living room fading away.


“Here, my child, drink this,” Marvolo said as he crouched by, holding a spoon of what Severus recognized as Calming Draught in his hand. Too shaken up from the nightmare— memory — Harry accepted the spoon and swallowed the potion down, his erratic breathing evening out to something akin to normal, though his eyes were still suspiciously wet.


“I— thank you, both of you,” Harry bit his lip and tugged at his sleeve, his cheeks reddened.


“You’re welcome, child. How do you feel now?” Severus asked worriedly, a concerned frown clear on his face.


Harry evaded his question by saying, “I’m sorry for. . this , I didn’t mean to bother either of you with my problems,”


Yaxley better hurry the fuck up, Severus thought as he slowly and gently pulled Harry into his lap, making sure that the child could see that Severus wasn’t going to hurt him.


Harry was tense and tears shone in his eyes, but he also didn’t struggle in Severus’ lap, reluctantly fisting Severus’ robes in his hands. He gulped, his thoughts jumpled and whirling.


“Oh Harry,” Marvolo and Severus sighed at the same time, Marvolo threading his hand through Harry’s hair while Severus rubbed Harry’s back.


“You certainly aren’t bothering us, child,” Marvolo said softly, using a handkerchief to wipe the corners of Harry’s eyes.


“Having nightmares is nothing to be ashamed of, Harry,” Severus shifted Harry so that the boy was lying down more comfortably in his arms, wordlessly stretching the beanbag so that they could all sit with plenty of space to still spare.


“Marvolo and I still have them occasionally,” Severus said, having Harry’s compete attention. “And neither one of us is ashamed of them nor do we consider the other bothersome for having them.”


“You. . . you don’t?” Harry looked at them both, and each gave him a small, comforting smile back.


“No, Harry, we don’t,” Marvolo said. “And neither should you, regardless of whatever those two Muggles beasts may have said.”


Harry didn’t say anything after that, perhaps mulling their words over, but eventually Severus noticed the way the boy tried to hide his yawns, so he laid the child’s head on his chest and said, “Go back to sleep, little one. I promise you that you won’t have any nightmares this time,”


“How can you promise that, though?” Harry asked in a mumble, his tense muscles relaxing and his eyes slipping shut the further the man rubbed his back.


“Marvolo knows a little spell that helps with nightmares, although it lasts for only about four hours or so,” Severus explained, nudging Marvolo with his knee gently.


Harry opened his eyes to stare at the aforementioned man, and seeing the slightly nervous look in those green eyes, Marvolo gave him a soothing grin and wagged his wand playfully, the tip shining a pale, baby blue.


“Do not worry, Harry, I know what I’m doing,” Marvolo assured him, and both he and his husband watched as the boy struggled to decide what to do for a minute before he spoke up again.


“I’ll do it,” Harry said softly, his heart hammering; the men had been so nice to his so far, but he still felt nervous to trust them to such a degree to allow them to cast spells on him. However, he wanted, desperately , to see whether they’d actually hurt him or not, and so he took his chance.


“Such a brave child,” Severus praised him, pulling the blanket over Harry and tucking it around him. He then turned to look at Marvolo, giving him a nod.


Marvolo took a deep breath and, shooting a smile at Harry, said in a clear voice while making a circular movement with his wand:






Albus Dumbledore smiled benignly at his students as he ate dinner in the Great Hall, making a great show of praising the precious Gryffindors. Of course, if anybody asked him, he’d say that he loved and appreciated all four houses the same, but that truly wasn’t the case.


The Slytherins, in his obviously superior opinion, were the scum of earth; the Hufflepuffs were the dumbest and laziest bunch he had ever seen; and then the Ravenclaws, a big group of know-it-alls and show-offs that only knew what they did from books and nothing more. Once  upon a time he would’ve praised his Gryffindors, but lately whatever content he felt for them had vanished, and so he hated them just a tiny bit less than the others; they were brash and loud and obnoxious, traits he’d fix once he secured his reign and hold over the Ministry and got rid of those who stood against him.


He hid his frown when he saw that the older Potter brat wasn’t sitting at the Gryffindor table, but instead was with Hermione Granger, the friend of the younger Potter brat.


His pawns better not be moving outside of his chessboard, otherwise he would have to less than legal means to get them back on track.


Speaking of pawns outside of the chessboard, Remus Lupin was also becoming a problem. He thought that by now the pesky Werewolf would’ve caved under the effects of the many potions and compulsions Albus, James, Lily, and Sirius had fed him discreetly over the years.


Those bloody werewolf packs probably noticed the lingering smell on the frail man and more than likely purged him as much as they could considering the fact that only Goblins and very few, select wizards and witches could perform a complete purging ritual.


Albus truly wanted to stop sending Lupin into the packs, but he also needed more people to join his cause so that he’d have more cannon fodder than Voldemort, nevermind that he hated those half-breeds and planned on getting rid of them after he won, Lupin included.


He just hoped that the next pack he sent Lupin to wouldn’t have Greyback there; he knew that Lupin and that monstrous Alpha were mates, but the potions he forced Lupin under made sure that neither of the two knew it. But said potion was actually simple to purge, and the Werewolves were definitely capable of getting rid of the effects of that one.


Should that happen, he’d lose whatever connection he had to the Werewolves immediately.

Chapter Text

“Elbows off the table, child,” Severus, very softly, said to Harry, giving him a proud smile when the boy complied.


Although blushing, Harry returned the smile, his eyes slightly wide at all the different types of food that were prepared. He didn’t even know what half of them were! “Sorry, Severus,” he apologised sheepishly.


Looking around the table, he paused when he realized that they had started dinner without Marvolo, who he knew to be the Lord of the Manor. Shouldn’t they have waited for him before eating? As far as he was aware during lunch, Severus hadn’t taken anything unto his plate until Marvolo did, so why were they starting without him now?


“Severus?” Harry began, still too timid in Severus’ opinion. The Potions Master paused in cutting the meat on his plate— somehow doing it gracefully— and gave Harry all his attention with a smile.


“Yes, Harry? Is something the matter?” Severus asked, hiding his frown when he noticed how little food the child had put on his plate.


Harry shook his head. “No, but I was wondering where Marvolo is? I thought we had to wait for him,” he said, his hands fidgeting slightly.


“Marvolo had an emergency to deal with,” Severus said. “And you’re correct, we usually wait for him if he actually were in the Manor, unless he himself tells us that he’s not joining us.”


Harry made a sound of understanding, blushing a little when the Potions Master scooped him more mashed potatoes and something green— a vegetable, maybe?— he had never seen before.


“You don’t have to do that, Severus,” he said hastily.


“You barely have anything on your plate, my child,” Severus frowned, and then gently thumbed Harry’s cheek. “You need more food to grow up big, tall, and strong like Marvolo and I, alright?”


Harry nodded, though Severus wasn’t ignorant to the way the child was still hesitant in eating food even when given to him.


No matter, he’ll be working on fixing the damage those monsters left on his child soon enough.




Remus Lupin was in a world of fiery pain. His body, his throat particularly, plused and burned with the ache of having so many potions purged out his systems. His head throbbed from the force of his headache, courtesy of his locked memories returning to him in an excruciating speed that made him tremble.


Finding out Harry’s abuse— the Headmaster’s plans— the manipulations— Leo’s conditioning— the torture


“Hush,” a voice, deep and warm and curling up in the pit of his stomach like warm soup, soothed him, calloused hands rubbing down his naked back. Remus nearly moaned from the pleasurable tingles the contact produced. “It’s alright, my mate, you’re safe here.”


I have to find my cubs— have to save them— his mind and instincts nearly screeched, and he couldn’t help but thrash in the strong arms now holding him to a comfortable chest. He had to go . Now.


“Let him go, Fenrir,” another voice said, one somewhat familiar to Remus this time, a dark undertone to the sentence that had him slightly on edge.


The arms around Remus eased off his body after a few seconds, and the first thing Lupis did was twist around.


Right away, he wished that he hadn’t, for the bald, snake-faced man in front of him was none other than Lord Voldemort himself.




S it down, Remu s Lupin,” You-Know-Who glared at him, those terrifying eyes narrowed in a fearsome glare. He dragged the ‘s’ in every word slightly, just enough that it made Remus uncomfortable.


Remus, in a great show of either Gryffindor recklessness of bravery, didn’t do as the man said and instead fumbled around for his wand, panicking further when he didn’t find it.


Voldemort snarled and then with his own wand, wordlessly casted a full Body-Bind on the werewolf, who dropped back, much to his Remus’ embarrassment, into the other werewolf’s lap.


“E x plain to him how he’s been fooled, Greyback, and then take him to Gringott s . Should he prove to be uncooperative—“ and here Lord Voldemort shot Remus a dark look. “—then you have full permission to Stun him.”


Confused and worried as to why Greyback then actually growled at what You-Know-Who said, Remus opened his mouth to protest, only to realize that a Silencio had been placed on him.


Shooting another dark look at him, one that made Moony in Remus’ mind whine in fear, Lord Voldemort got up from his chair and left the room, robes swishing almost gently behind him.




“Severus, my love,” Marvolo hummed to his husband, ignoring the carnage around him as he wrapped his beloved up in his arms.


Severus likewise ignored him, tugging an arm out with a snarl and making a violent slashing motion with his wand, causing the cement wall that Marvolo created beforehand to bubble and sizzle away under a barrage of acidic rain. Marvolo was thankful that Harry was already tucked in bed and that the duelling room was soundproof, because otherwise they would have already scared the child with the crashing and banging they’ve done so far.


Marvolo wasn’t stupid, he knew that telling Severus of all the potions purged out of Lupin would not end on a good note, and that was why he had relocated them to the duelling room after making sure Harry was asleep. He was now, inwardly, patting himself on the back for his smart thinking.


“I want him dead ,” Severus finally spat out, eyes ablaze as he turned to glare at his husband. “I want him gone for all that he’s done to us!”


“Soon, beloved,” Marvolo promised Severus, pulling the Potions Master flush against himself and beginning to nibble on his pale neck, sucking a hickey onto the beautiful skin. “Soon you shall have him at your feet, beaten and broken and begging for mercy which he’ll never be granted.”


“Take me to our bed, Marvolo,” Severus nearly begged, his hand tightly gripping the lapels of Marvolo’s robes. He wanted to forget all about what the monster had done to him, even for a small while. “Make me forget for tonight, please , husband,”


“Of course, my love,” Marvolo soothed the younger man by kissing him again until he was dazed and his lips were red. His hands were on Severus’ hips, his grasp possessive and unyielding.


“Whatever you wish, my Consort.”

Chapter Text

Late into the night, after their rather enthusiastic activities spurred on by Severus’ rage had ended, they laid in bed with their limbs intertwined. Marvolo spooned his husband, nuzzling the nape of his neck while Severus traced figures onto the skin of Marvolo’s arms. The older man tightened his hold, shifting so that his hands laid on where Severus’ heart was, comforted by the steady thump thump thump of his beloved after going through ten years if sleeping in an empty bed.


Neither were asleep, but they also did not speak aloud, instead content to merely talk through their recently-healed mindlink.


{Where did Fawkes go, Marvolo?} Severus asked the Dark Lord, tangling their fingers absentmindedly. His brows were furrowed, the thoughts of that strange bird only now returning.


Marvolo narrowed his eyes. { I. . . don’t actually know, Sev. Last I saw him, he was in the Infirmary with Harry, grooming the child’s wild hair.}


Severus frowned as well, and Marvolo could feel his worry bleed through the link. { You don't think he returned to Dumbledore, do you?} Severus asked.


{I don’t think so, no. If he was still loyal to Dumbledore why would he return you to me?} Marvolo wondered, and then a concerned look covered his face when he felt Severus shiver at the indirect mention of wherever he had been imprisoned.


“Dear-heart. . .” He began out loud.  


“Not tonight, Marvolo.” Severus sighed as he rebuked Marvolo immediately, a tight strain to his voice.


Marvolo huffed, But didn’t let go. “How about after we talk with House Prince, hmm?”


Severus shifted, and then sighed again knowing that Marvolo wouldn’t let up that easily. “Very well, husband. I’ll tell you of that wretched place after we meet with them.”


Marvolo kissed the juncture of Severus’ shoulder, sending a pulse of love through their mindlink and smiling slightly when recuperated the sentiment.


“Go to sleep now, my love,” Marvolo then said as he settled down and closed his eyes. “Tomorrow morning Narcissa’s tailor and seamstress are coming to prepare Harry’s wardrobe.”


“Hmm, yes, yes,” Severus muttered, and with that, the two fell into Morpheus’ realm.




Next Day:


“Severus, please, I don’t need an entire wardrobe , ” Harry gaped at the sheer number of fabrics around them, some of them velvet, others made of something called Acromantula silk, and some of the others even glimmered in different shades under different angles!


“Child, you’re under our care, are you not? Not to mention the fact that you were the one who released me. Caring for you is the least I can do,” Severus said as he ran a hand through Harry’s hair, cheering inwardly when the boy, although tensed slightly, didn’t flinch away from his touch.


“This is still too much,” Harry continued protesting. “Surely I can wear somebody’s old clothes! You don’t need to waste money on me!”


Severus sighed and cast a privacy charm, even though they were alone in the room, bending down to better hold eye contact with Harry. “Harry,” he began, his tone firm. “Marvolo and I are doing this because we want to, and we’re most definitely not wasting money. Nobody, and that included even you regardless of whatever those monsters told you, deserves to be dressed in clothes that suit and belongs to them, not somebody’s cast-off rags .”


Severus truly did not expect Harry’s eyes to widen and become teary, but before he could start freaking out mentally, Harry reached his arms out and wrapped them around Severus’ neck, trembling slightly as he tucked his face into the Potions Master’s neck, smelling his comforting cologne.


Severus, although shocked, did not waste time and held the boy back just as tightly, murmuring sweet nothings to help calm him down. One of his hands rubbed up and down Harry’s thin back, vehemently ignoring the raised scars that he could feel beneath the fabric of the robe Harry was wearing.


Eventually though, they had to separate, and after they did so, Severus fixed the child’s slightly wrinkled robes and wiped under his eyes, smiling gently at him. “Now, let’s get your wardrobe fixed and then you’ll meet your Transfiguration and Charms teacher.”


Harry nodded and smiled at him, and Severus took one of the child’s hands in his own and squeezed gently, just as Marvolo opened the door.




While Harry was busy with Francis Everheart, the tailor, and Madame Dayholt, the seamstress, Marvolo and Severus stood off to the side, keeping a careful eye on Harry just in case he got overwhelmed. Of course, Everhart and Madame Dayholt were terribly scared of messing up considering the two terrifying wizards they were working for, but they didn’t let it show as they went about doing their respective jobs.


Eventually, after two hours of using magic, they finished making a full wardrobe for Harry, and Severus led the two professionals away before the boy could find out how much everything cost.


While he dealt with that, Marvolo gently led Harry out of the room and to his own private study, Nagini joining them halfway.


“Severus and I are aware of how overwhelming everything must be to you, child,” Marvolo said as he opened the door to the study. “Which is why these first few lessons are going to be quite easy compared to what you’ll learn later. Though, Severus and I have complete faith that you’ll excel in all your subjects.”


Harry beamed at the older man. “I will do my best in all of the subjects, Marvolo.” He said in a firm, serious tone, and he truly meant what he said; these two men have been nothing short of incredible to him, and actually making an effort in his classes and making them proud was the least ge could do to repay them for their kindness.


Marvolo smiled slightly as he beckoned Harry to sit on a sofa that was directly in front of the roaring fireplace in his large study, a wooden tray of biscuits, tea, and what appeared to be apple juice appearing on the oak coffee table in front of the sofa.  


“Eat and drink whatever you like, my child. Nobody will or shall chastise you here.” Marvolo assured the child, gently running a hand through his hair for a moment.


“Thank you, Marvolo.” Harry said a few seconds later, though whether he meant the food or something else Marvolo did not care to know.


The child was welcome either way (Even if Marvolo believed that Harry shouldn’t be thankful for something so normal).




“They will kill him!” Molly Weasley damn near shrieked, her face pale and eyes wide.


The entire Order were once more in Grimmauld Place, in the only study that could actually be opened; even though Orion and Walburga Black, the previous Lord and Lady of House Black, were dead, the magic the house refused to allow access into certain rooms that he had no problem going into when he was a child.


Albus has just told them of Remus’ demise, and without even bothering to ask how he was so sure of that, they all believed him save for two men and one woman: Sirius Black, James Potter, and Lily Potter nee Evans.


He had sent them a letter last night when the device he had connected to Remus went off, meaning that the werewolf had found his blasted mate. Decades of careful manipulation and using expensive potions, all ruined because of one pack!


Albus wasn’t stupid, he knew that this meant Remus was going to go to Gringotts to get a full purge, Greyback more than likely paying for the expenses. No matter, once he secures his reign, Greyback and that stupid lack were going to be the first of Dark creatures that he’d get rid of.


Now, however, he had to make sure that the Potter brat, Leo, wasn’t going to skirt off the path of his plans. Hence, why he waited until everyone was done expressing their grief, some more emotional than others, before he called Lily and James.


“I would like to speak to you both later,” he told them, eyes twinkling madly and a healthy dose of remorse in his voice. “It’s about Leo.” He then added in a quieter whisper, giving Lily a fake, sad smile when the irritating woman gasped in worry.


“As you wish, Albus.” James nodded, and then went off with Lily to find Sirius to talk to him.


Lily and James, both thinking about other things, missed the dangerous glint the Headmaster’s eyes held.

Chapter Text

“My Lord,” a man, looking about just a year or two younger than Severus, bowed before Marvolo, his voice holding an almost reverent tone. 


Harry’s mouth fell open in slight shock; while he knew that Marvolo was a Lord of some sort, he still wasn’t aware that people bowed to him in such a physical manner. A warm hand settling on his shoulder snapped him out of his shock, and he blushed slightly from embarrassment as he gave Marvolo a small smile. 


“Rise, Rabsatan, and make yourself comfortable,” Marvolo ordered, and the man— Rabastan— did so, sitting down on a high backed chair in front of Marvolo’s desk. 


“Harry,” Marvolo then directed his attention towards the young boy, beckoning him closer to his side. More than happy to comply, Harry nestled himself close to the older man, a bit wary of Rabastan. 


“This is Rabastan Lestrange, and he shall be your Transfiguration teacher. Rabastan has completed his Transfiguration Mastery outside of Britain. Therefore, he can broaden the subject better than the ones in the British Ministry,” Marvolo said, a calm hand on Harry’s shoulder.  


With a motion of Marvolo’s hand, Rabastan cleared his throat and spoke, voice pleasant and holding a light reverent tone: “It is a pleasure to meet you, Young Lord.” He bowed his head slightly, missing Harry’s shocked expression.


With an encouraging look from Marvolo, Harry steeled himself to speak. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Lestrange. But please, just call me Harry.” 


Rabastan turned quickly to his Lord, making sure that it was acceptable for him to call the Young Lord by his first name. Getting a nod from the older man, Rabastan flashed the child a small smile and said, “Well then, Harry, I insist you call me Rabastan– none of the Mister stuff, that’s my older brother.” He chuckled, hoping to come across as friendly. He was pretty sure, however, that the only reason the child was so calm was his Lord’s presence. 


And isn’t that such a curious thought? Rabastan mused quietly to himself, but he did not think too much on it– for before his Lord had asked him to privately teach Harry, he had demanded an Oath that made it impossible for Rabastan to speak about Harry in any way to someone who was not already aware of his existence in the Manor. 


At first, Rabastan had been just a tad angry— the son of his nephew’s killer— and his anger had briefly resurfaced when he saw the child, his trademark Potter hair and Evans’ green eyes very prominent, but then the child turned out to be the farthest thing from Potter Sr. 


For one, he was a tiny, too-thin little thing, and then he turned out to be also quiet and skittish, if the careful, delicate way his Lord took care of him was anything to go by. And so Rabastan decided to store his anger and fury away, planning to release it on Lord and Lady Potter when the time came. 


“Now, Rabastan,” his Lord then said, bringing Rabastan out of his thoughts to notice that Harry was now smiling a little bit. “Let’s get to fixing the schedule, shall we?” 


“Yes, My Lord,” Rabastan nodded, sitting up straighter. “Will Tuesdays and Fridays work then? From two o’clock in the afternoon until half past three?” 


“What do you think, Harry?” Marvolo asked Harry, a quill stationed on a piece of parchment to write down the schedule and the time of the classes. As Harry nodded, the quill wrote down Tuesday and Friday under the Transfiguration column, along with the time. 


“And what about books?” Harry then questioned, no longer as wary as he was before. Marvolo has conjured a chair for him beside his own, and had also summoned the biscuit plate. Rabastan, who had been sipping his tea, was actually a bit shocked at how natural his Lord looked looking after a child. 


“I would suggest Understanding Transfiguration for the Young Wixen by Ezekiel Hawthorn, Young– Harry,” Rabastan said, stumbling slightly on Harry’s name. “Emeric Switch, the author McGonagall favors, has taken a part of Hawthorn’s book and rewrote it in his words. And not to mention that Hawthorn is also more in depth compared to Switch’s book.” 


“Very well, I do believe we have that book somewhere in the Library,” Marvolo said, secretly calming Harry; he didn’t want either Marvolo or Severus to spend even more money on him, even if it were a tiny amount.  


“Will I be teaching him this week or the next, My Lord?”


Marvolo sighed. “You will start next, as will his other teachers. Now, I presume you’ll be teaching him the theories at first?” 


“Yes, My Lord.” 


“Then use the smaller Library on the first floor– I believe it has more than enough boards and desks. Will that be fine for you, Harry?” 


Harry looked shocked for a second that Marvolo was asking for his opinion, but then he grinned excitedly and agreed. “It will be perfect!” 


Both men smiled at his excitement, even though Marvolo hid it. 


After that, having finished everything, Rabastan stood up and bid his Lord and Young Lord goodbye, the latter even waving happily after him. 


“Now, child,” Marvolo said as he brought a Galleon, a Sickle, and then a Knut, and after those he brought out another quill and a piece of parchment. “Your Charms teacher shall be here in about thirty minutes or so, and while we wait for him, how about I teach a few necessary things, hmm?” 


Harry shrugged, unbothered. “Sure, Marvolo. But if I may ask, who’s teaching me Charms?” 


“A man named Bart Crouch Jr. is teaching you Charms, child. He was also in Ravenclaw, in fact.” Marvolo ruffled the child’s hair fondly, eliciting a squeak before Harry pushed his hand away gently. “As for your other teachers, Severus himself is going to teach you Potions and Herbology, as the two often go hand in hand. Defence Against the Dark Arts and the Dark Arts will be taught by myself. Lucius Malfoy, a former Slytherin in Hogwarts, will be teaching you History of Magic while his wife, Narcissa Malfoy, will teach you Astronomy.” 


Harry’s mouth hung open. “Waittt— you and Severus are teachers?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. 


“I completed my Defense Mastery a long time ago, child,” Marvolo chuckled, and then smiled fondly as he spoke next: “And so has Severus. In fact, Severus is currently the youngest Potions Master alive.” 


“Wicked,” Harry’s eyes glittered in amazed as he breathed, a grin on his face. 


“Anyways— let’s get back to our coins,” Marvolo then said, picking the Galleon up. 


And so, as they waited for Barty, Marvolo taught Harry their currency, the child staring at him attentively. 




“Sire, may I just say how amazing it is to have you back with us?” Pettigrew groveled next to Severus’ feet, kissing his boots like the rat that he was. 


Disgusted by the display and Pettigrew’s presence, Severus ripped his boot away from the rat, glowering at him. “Just what gave you the impression that I’ve allowed you to touch me, Wormtail?” He asked softly, but Bulstrode, the unfortunate bloke who had to go with Wormtail, still flinched.  


Wormtail immediately cowered more, whimpering and snivelling. “Nothing, Sire. I- uh- apologize,” he whispered, trembling all over. 


A sneer curled over Severus’ lips, but he did not answer. Instead, he turned to look at the pile of Muggles thrown over each other in the cell before, all knocked out and unconscious. Six Muggles; two of them women and the other four men, all found on the many streets of Muggle London. 


“One of the men has HIV, Sire, and the blonde woman has cancer,” Arsenius Bulstrode answered Severus’ unasked question, a bit confused at what his Lord’s Consort could be needing them for. He did not, however, dare to ask. 


Opening the cell’s metal door, Severus stepped inside, a wandless gesture of his hand leaving the Muggles lined up on the floor like fish. 


“You may leave, Pettigrew,” he then told Pettigrew, waving his hand dismissively. The rat, predictably, did so without any complaints or looking back. 


“You’ve done well, Arsenius,” Severus praised the Death Eater quietly, which made the man puff up slightly in pride. 


“Thank you, Sire. I’ve only done what was asked of me,” Arsenius bowed, smirking arrogantly. 


“Hmm, yes, yes. You may leave now, but do make sure to close the door on your way out, we wouldn’t want any rat to listen to what we don’t want him to,” 


Arsenius’ smirk further widened as he left; he, his Lord, and his Lord’s Consort were the only ones aware of the rat’s spying and real loyalties, and to be in on such an important, secret ordeal made him feel just a tad bit superior to his feel brethren. 


The only reason why he currently wasn’t in the Inner Circle was due to the fact that his Lord wanted him to stay in the shadows for bow, carefully watching those Death Eaters that seemed suspicious and did suspicious activities. 


And the person on top of that list, was none other than Peter Pettigrew. 




“Now, place about twelve drops of you blood into this potion here,” the sourly-looking Goblin told Remus, setting the glass goblet with its shimmering liquid on the desk between them. 


Fenrir– Alpha Greyback– gently held his shoulder, and Remus had to stop himself from smiling; from the day he had been turned he believed that he would live the rest of his life alone– and then just yesterday, he not only finds out that he had a mate all along, but that said mate had trouble finding him because of something Dumbledore did. And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Everything Dumeblore and his cohorts have done had brought nothing but pain and anguish to their victims


And Remus was, apparently, one of those victims. 


Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Remus takes the crystal quartz knife from the Goblin, making a clean cut on the top of his thumb without endangering any sort of vein of anything of the like. 


Twelve drops are soon placed into the goblet, and then the goblin brings a wooden stirrer, stirring the potion and blood three times in figure eight. After that is done, he picks the goblet and slowly drips its contents onto a piece of parchment, words writing themselves on the parchment.  


Finally, the goblet is empty and set down. Without looking at the results, the Goblin gives the parchment to Remus and his Alpha, already knowing what was to happen.


He could even see it now, Lupin’s body stiffening the further he read on and Greyback starting to growl. 


As sad as it was to say, the sight was nothing new to Gringotts’ Goblins. 




Peter Pettigrew was freaking out. 


“I see, my boy. They’ve taken only three Muggles?” Albus Dumbledore caressed his beard, not looking at Peter as he looked around the Forbidden Forest.


Peter wanted to scream and yell that the Death Eater scum, bloody Severus Slytherin, has cursed him, made him unable to say the correct information, but the most he could do was nod. 


“Yes, Headmaster,” the words were forced from his mouth. “He plans on experimenting on them.” 


Albus Dumbledore stayed silent for quite some time, before a small, sharp smile curled over his mouth. “Thank you, my boy. You’ve no idea how helpful you truly are.” 


Chapter Text

“He went to Dumbledore right away, Sire,” Arsenius later said to Severus, the two men now conversing in Severus’ private study. Arsenius sat in one of the black leather chair situated in front of the crackling fireplace, nursing a drink while Severus, sitting opposite Arsenius, simply drank some tea. In his lap was his potions journal, full of experiments and new potion ideas that he never got around to due to being imprisoned.


“And what did he tell him?” Severus murmured, eyes staring at the fireplace. 


“Pettigrew did tell him about the Muggles, of course, but he said there were only three and hinted they were still alive. Which means that the charm is still working as it should, Sire.” Arsenius said just as the door, which was ajar, opened further, welcoming the scaly body of Nagini. 


Arsenius stiffened and his grip on his drink tightened, but Severus merely gave her a curious glance. She slithered to his chair, deftly climbing up until she wound herself wrapped around his shoulders and arms.she raised her head, staring at him. 


Your Hatchling’s teachers have finally left,” she hissed, her forked tongue flicking out to taste the air. She noticed how the other man was as stiff as a log, and she was not surprised to taste his fear of her. 


“I believe it is time for me to go, Sire. While I do trust my monitoring spell, it’s still better to be watching Pettigrew by myself,” He said hastily, missing the amused glint in both the serpent and Severus’ eyes. 


“Of course, Arsenius. Do keep a very careful eye on him,” Severus said and Bulstrode left after bowing, leaving them to their musings. 


“Did he like his teachers?” The Potions Master asked, also standing from the chair. With a wave of his hand, the fireplace went out and left the study dim with only a few candles still burning away. While it was still afternoon– nearing evening– Severus had drawn all the drapes shut, making the study dark and dim. 


I believe so, but he was most surprised to hear you and Marvolo would be his teachers as well,” She ‘laughed’, shifting her body slightly so that he could fix the collar of his dark blue robes. 


Severus chuckled, going out of the study and making his way to Marvolo and Harry. 




“Hello, beloved,” Marvolo kissed Severus in greeting, Harry’s muffled giggling in the background along with Nagini’s content hissing as she curled up.


“And what are you laughing at, hmm?” Severus asked Harry, a slight grin on his face as he gently pinched Harry’s cheek. 


“Nothing,” Harry shrugged, still grinning. Severus was glad to see him so happy, a stark difference compared to his first few days during which he was quiet and skittish. 


“Do you like your teachers?” He asked, sitting down on a comfy sofa and pulling Harry down next to him. Harry tensed at first, but then after a few moments relaxed, very tentatively cuddling close to Severus. 


“They both seemed nice,” Harry said, and then he got an excited air about him as he straightened up. “And you never said you were a Potions Master!” 


Severus laughed, distinctly noticing Marvolo moving deeper to the bookshelves. “I never did, did I? But either way, how about you come down with me to the labs, hmm? I do, after all, need to start brewing again.” 


Harry got up immediately, a large smile on his face. “Yes, of course!” He nodded, his cheeks tinted a pale pink from slight embarrassment at his own enthusiasm. 


Severus chuckles once more before he got up as well, leaving Nagini to change her position to a more comfortable one on the sofa. He put his hand between Harry’s shoulder blades, gently guiding him towards the labs located underground. 


As they walked, the hallway torches lit up along with them. Just before they could go down the stairs that led to Severus’ favorite lab, Harry stopped the Potions Master by roughly grabbing his wrist. 


“Severus— it hurts!” Harry gasped, tears filling his eyes immediately. Although confused and very much worried, Severus bent and cradled his child’s face in his hands, not flinching as Harry’s fingers scratched his wrists due to his jerking. 


“It hurts— make it stop, PLEASE!” Harry cried, not reacting when Severus took him into his arms and held his safely. Harry cried against Severus’ shoulder, his glasses having long since fallen to the floor. 


He grasped the man’s robes, struggling against the unbelievable pain going through every nerve in his body. He was unaware of Severus apparating them to his and Marvolo’s bedroom, not was he aware of Marvolo also apparating there. “Make it stop, make it stop, please, please, please,” Harry sobbed, nearly delirious.


Severus laid him on the bed as much as Harry allowed, but even the silk sheets did nothing for Harry’s slowly overheating body. Marvolo gave Severus a pain potion vial and a Calming Drought vial, looking just as worried as his husband. 


Efficiently, the Potions Master pried Harry’s mouth open and emptied the pain potion inside, and he and Marvolo watched in silent relief as Harry slowly stopped struggling and finally slumped against the sheets, though his tears did not stop. 


Next came the Calming Drought, which Severus only gave him about a quarter of it before setting the vial aside. He and Marvolo sat on the bed on each side of Harry, the child now shivering.  


Marvolo draped the quilts over the child, using a tissue to collect the sweat gathering upon Harry’s brow. “What happened to him, Severus?” He whispered quietly. 


“I don’t know, Marvolo. We were walking when he just started crying from some pain,” Severus answered just as quietly, running his hand through Harry’s hair. Much to his shock, Harry’s hair felt… different. 


Shifting the quilt, he took one good look at Harry’s hair— and raged right away. 


“I can’t believe this!” He whisper-shouted, face contorted in rage. 


“What? What’s wrong?” Marvolo hastily asked, also taking a look at Harry’s hair— and the wrathful hiss that left his lips would’ve made even the strongest Auror cower in fear. 


What have those fools done?” He hissed in Parseltongue, staring at the slight waviness of Harry’s hair— a complete difference from the trademark messy Potter hair. 


His anger at them now tenfold, he got up and left the chambers, only stopping to tell Severus that he was going to blow off some steam. 


Severus nodded, speechless with his own anger; some part of him hoped that perhaps he was wrong, that he was jumping to the wrong conclusion, but the bigger part of him knew better, knew that Harry losing that hair could mean only one thing:


Harry was being disowned from the Potter family line. 


Chapter Text

Hiii guys, I wanted to put this note in the next chapter, but things came up and now I have no choice but to write and post it right away. 

Okay, so the crux of the matter is: school. This year of school is my most important one because literally my entire future depends on it; the marks i get this year will be what will determine what university I’ll go to and what field I’ll even work and study in. 

That being said, I have to inform you guys that I probably won’t be able to update until next year, sometime after july. Like yeah, that’s exactly how long I’ll be studying and taking my exams for, and I can’t get distracted by my phone or social medias and writing. And I wanted you guys to be aware of why I won’t update and not think that I’ve abandoned this work, because I have not :)

Thank you to everyone who’s supporting this fic in any they can, be it kudos, hits, bookmarks, comments and whatever else! I hope I’ll see you all again when I update next! <3

Chapter Text

Harry cried into Severus’ chest, his shoulders trembling with the force of his sobs. Clenching his fists into the fabric did not lessen the sheer emotional pain he felt, but it grounded him and helped him still think just a tad bit clearly. 


“They— they—” he couldn’t even speak two words properly, but Severus and Marvolo, who sat behind him and rubbed his back gently, still understood what he was trying to say. 


“Shush, child, they don’t know what they’ve lost,” Severus cooed, running a hand through the child’s now slightly wavy hair. 


Pale green eyes— no longer Lily’s particular shade of emerald but no less beautiful— looked up at him from his chest, tears sliding down Harry’s cheeks. “Am I truly that unwanted?” Harry asked, tone desperate and broken. More tears slid down his cheeks, his eyes puffy and red from all the crying he had done so far.


He had not known them, didn’t even know the barest thing about them, but it they were his parents and even though he knew it was stupid, a small, tiny part of him had hoped they’d somehow, someway, try to know him. 


“No!” Marvolo bit out, gathering Harry in his own arms and cutting off Harry’s thoughts. “Those fools are no better than the lowest scum on this earth, and they do not deserve you, do you hear me?” 




“Harry, they’re acting on their own miguided and bigoted beliefs, it has nothing to do with you or who you are,” Marvolo sighed, conjuring a tissue to wipe Harry’s tears away. 


Harry nodded in silent acceptance, but both men knew that he was still hurting, knew that more breakdowns would eventually come. Of course, the Potters disowning Harry made it easier for them to adopt Harry, but that didn’t mean they wanted him to get hurt in such a disgusting manner. Magically disowning a child was something seldom done in the Magical World, and regardless of how horrid a child may be, the most extreme their parents would do would be a disinheritance, much like the late Lord Black had done to Sirius. 


“May I go to the bathroom?” Harry murmured quietly after a while, not staring at them as he left after getting confirmation. 


Severus sighed. “This is going to be rough, isn’t it?” He asked rhetorically, frowning. He clasped his hand with Marvolo’s as they both sat thinking, drawing strength from the other man and vice versa. 


“Rough as it’ll be, there still is a silver lining to this cloud, beloved,” Marvolo said as he attempted to look at the bright side of things, Nagini hissing her agreement. Still, his heart ached for Harry; the child deserved better. 


“I know, love, but I still do not want him to go through this thinking that it’s his fault he has been disowned.” Severus said, biting his lip. He was completely unaware of a certain bird's return as it happily passed by the Manor’s heavy, ancient wards.


“I understand, my love.” Marvolo said, just as unaware as his husband. “And I agree with you.” 




“That was pretty intense, huh?” Sirius chuckled nervously, wiping his brow with a handkerchief and clapping a hand down on James’ back. 


The other Auror grinned, closing the Potter Family Book with a careless slam. “Bet Snivellus isn’t happy right now, what with his only access to anything Potter related no longer working.” 


“Headmaster Dumbledore should’ve rid of him when he had the chance,” Sirius sniffs, humming cheerfully as he and James make their way up the Ritual Room of Potter Cottage. “ You shouldn’t have rescued him when I sent him to the Shrieking Shack.” 


James grimaced, clearly remembering his actions from that day. “You should’ve hit me for that, honestly. We could’ve gotten him and Lupin killed in one go, and Dumbledore would have protected us from any legal situations!”


“Speaking of Dumbledore,” Sirius suddenly says, raising an eyebrow at the other man. “Is he aware of the Disownment?” 


James nodded. “Oh yes, he was the one who suggested it.” 


“And Lily?” 


James pursed his lips. “She’s not; didn’t even ask why I needed a vial of her blood!” 


“She’s a Muggleborn, Prongs,” Sirius chuckled and patted his friend’s back counsilatory. “She probably doesn’t know or understand why blood is so important and revered.” 


“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s talk about more important things, like the Quidditch match coming up...” 




Too easy , Corban crowed in delight as he bound Vernon and Petunia Dursley with an Incarcerous, the walrus of a man spitting insults while Petunia shrieks in fear.


Their son was out of town, camping for the next week with the family of Piers Polkiss. Corban, seeing his chance, had walked into the wardless house after casting a few Silencio’s on himself and the property— knowing that the latter would hold for only ten minutes at most. 


Corban verbally Stuns them, growing annoyed. He takes a cursory glance around the horribly-decorated house. Oh, if his brethren were here! They’d be shocked silly at how boring and uninteresting the house is. The Consort himself would’ve been beyond disgusted at the woman’s failed attempt of gardening and growing tomatoes in the backyard.   


Reluctantly and with a touch of disgust, he steps near them and activates the portkey his Lord prepared for him, which drops them off right in the lower dungeons. 


Whistling to himself, Corban makes his way up after checking on all the cell’s wards and the Muggles’ binds, thinking about what he’s going to do after informing the Consort of his successful mission. 


Hmm, he rather missed his dear Alecto. Perhaps he should take her out? There's been rumors of a new restaurant opening up near Diagon Alley, and he and his Alecto certainly deserve a break every once in a while. 

Chapter Text

Fawkes trilled sadly, nuzzling his beak into the wavy tresses of Harry’s hair. Harry, himself, was staring vacantly at the wall of his bedroom, detached and not that aware of his surroundings. 


Severus knocked on the door partially open door to announce his presence, a wrought iron tray balanced on his other hand. “Harry?” He called, voice tinged with concern. 


Harry’s head snapped up to him, and Fawkes only barely managed to remove his beak fast enough not to accidentally hurt the boy. “Sorry, Fawkes,” Harry sighed, and then called for Severus to enter. 


“I brought you dinner, dear. Marvolo and I thought that perhaps you might feel more comfortable here,” Severus set the tray on the bedside table, and then sat down on the bed, near Harry but not enough as to make the boy feel uncomfortable. 


“You didn’t need to do so, Mist— Severus,” Harry said. “I’m sorry for the bother—” 


“It isn’t a bother at all, Harry,” Severus assured him, smiling softly. “But please, do try to eat a bit, alright? And after that, how about we take a walk down my gardens, hmm? I know that you’re upset and rightfully so, but staying here might only worsen your mood.” 


Harry bit his lips and stayed silent for a few moments, before finally agreeing with a defeated slump of his shoulders. “Alright,” He murmured, and that was it. 


Severus wanted to ask more and probe, but the child was clearly not in the mood, so he wisely held his tongue. He turned a stern look at Fawkes, only to find the fiery creature staring right back at him. 


Fawkes cocked his head to the side, as of Severus was the curious one, and got near Harry’s silent form again. Only when he began trilling soothingly again did he remove his gaze from Severus. 


Just what are you planning? Severus thought to himself, wary. Who are you truly loyal to? 




Arsenius stealthily followed Pettigrew into the slumps of Knockturn Alley, watching how the man was twitching in nervousness and catching the attention of particular wixen of questionable actions and background.


Such a terrible thing to show, Arsenius thought, scoffing silently to himself. When entering Knockturn Alley, one must do their best to stay silent and not attract anybody’s attention. 


He raised an eyebrow as the rat Animagus went to the little hidden, tiny alleyway between Witches’ Rotten Cauldrons and a seemingly unnamed shop.


Arsenius knew that if an Auror were here, the Auror would simply shrug and go on about his patrol, maybe get a bit suspicious but nothing serious. However, for someone who frequents Knockturn Alley, they’d know that that little alleyway would lead to the underground part of Knockturn Alley, where the real Dark magicks and rituals are practiced. 


He wondered why Pettigrew would have need for there, and more importantly, just how could that snivelling man have enough wits to go there. 


Quickly yet stealthily, he followed; whatever that man could be looking for, Arsenius would be following him every step of the way. 




“Yaxley has brought them, dearling,” Marvolo placed his chin on Severus’ shoulder, looking at the scribbles and writings on the parchments, some old and some new. 


“The dungeons?” Severus asked, leaning back in his chair. He sighs, stretching and closing his eyes for a second. 


Marvolo hummed and settled himself by the desk’s edge. “Oh yes, he dropped them there. I believe they’re still under the effects of his Stun,” he said, smirking a little. 


Severus chuckled at his husband’s expression, but once he caught sight of Marvolo’s left hand, his chuckle quietened and an expression of curiosity made itself a home upon his face. 


“What’s that you have here, Marvolo?” 


“This?” Marvolo lifted the wand of a color even paler than his own yew one, thick swirly patterns of a silver shade starting from the thick handle and thinning out near the tip. 


“I found it in our bedroom earlier,” Severus raised an eyebrow, and Marvolo shrugged, the motion barely seen. “Asked the elves if they left it here, but they had no idea as to where it came from either.” 


“Perhaps Fawkes brought it?” 


“Perhaps. The wards did not sense him when he left and returned. But still, I highly doubt it’d work that much for either of us,” 


“And why’s that?” 


Marvolo gave the wand to Severus, and Severus, who did not notice the mischievous curl of his lips, promptly yelped once he touched the wand, drawing his hand back from the sting it caused. However, he did note the power thrumming through the cold wood.


“What in Merlin's name?—” he grumbled, glowering at the chuckling form of his husband. 


“It has so far done the same to me, so I cast a numbing spell on my left hand.” Marvolo explained, setting the wand down. 


“But aside from that, I came to inform you that right now would be the best time to take Harry to the gardens, considering that horrible flower of yours only blooms at night,” Now it was Marvolo’s turn to grumble, grimacing at the thought of visiting Severus’ favorite flower. His favorite, prankster flower. 


Severus grinned; oh , Harry was so going to love his flowers, and hopefully it'll lift the poor boy’s mood a little. 




Arsenius cursed inwardly as he saw Pettigrew walk inside a particularly talented Curse Breaker’s shop, hastily reaching for his wand to cast a temporary glamour spell. It was nothing fancy, and he knew that the Curse Breaker would immediately notice it. However, Arsenius knew that Pettigrew wouldn’t, and that was what mattered more. 


He walked inside, the bell on the rust-colored door chiming; Pettigrew and Curse Breaker turned to look at him, Pettigrew’s face pale in fright while the Curse Breaker’s was blank. 


“Excuse me, sir,” she pushed past Pettigrew and immediately moved to Arsenius, a polite, misleading smile upon her face. She cast a general silencing and privacy spell before the smile dropped from her face, her wand held loosely in her hand even though her shoulders tensed. 


Before she could begin speaking, Arsenius showed her his left arm, folding his robe and shirt cuffs until his Dark Mark was visible. “My Lord has ordered me to follow him, Madame, without his knowledge,” he spoke hushedly, and as he continued, she began to relax; he knew of the woman’s desire to join his Lord, having seen her in the Manor once or twice before.


“I am not aware if he has told you yet, but the Consort has placed a spell on him to stop him from speaking of that which he has no right to speak of, and I ask that you fool him into believing that you have released him from it—” 


“The Consort is back?” She breathed, hazel eyes wide. 


Merlin’s rotten beard, I am a fool! Arsenius berated himself with a wince, before sighing. “Yes, he is back, but do not tell anyone yet, Madame.” He emphasized. 


She nodded, and then said, “Very well, sir, I shall try my best to fool him, and as for payment, I want audience with the Consort.” 


Arsenius raised an eyebrow, snapping his head over to Pettigrew when the rat tried getting closer to them. Pettigrew squeaked and went back to his original position, far enough that he couldn’t hear what they were saying even without the spells. 


“I cannot promise you that the Consort will have time yet, but I’ll put in a word.” He said curtly. 


“Very well, that’s more than enough. Now leave, I have a job to do.”