Chapter Text
~H.J.P.~
May 2nd, 1998
I looked down at the almost newborn version of Voldemort in contemplation. Dumbledore said he was beyond anyone's help, but I wasn't inclined to listen to him at the moment. I mean, he did raise me as a pig for slaughter. Plus, if my greatest power was meant to be love, then what good was it if I didn't try to help everyone?
Making a split second decision, I grabbed the slightly grotesque thing in my arms and brought it with me back to the land of the living.
A Few Weeks Later...
I looked at the bank statements in front of me, shaking with unbridled rage. Not only had Dumbledore lied to me, kept things from me, and raised me to die but he had also stolen from my vaults! From my family, who had put so much trust in him! He had apparently used most of it for his stupid Order, but the rest went to the Durselys and Dumbledore himself. Not that I was too shocked. I guess, maybe it could be argued it was meant to pay for my upbringing, but anyone with two eyes could have seen they weren't using it for that. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that this wasn't all Dumbledore had done wrong. As much as I hate Rita Skeeter, it was looking more plausible that some of the things in that Albus Dumbledore biography of hers is actually true.
"Would you like Gringotts to take back the money he stole?" Ironclaw brought me out of my thoughts. "Seeing as he had no heirs, everything was transferred to Aberforth Dumbledore."
I shook my head, "He doesn't deserve to suffer for his brother's manipulations and lies."
"Are you sure you don't wish to do a more complex inheritance test, Lord Potter?" He asked, giving me a small sneer.
"No, I'm good, thanks." I don't need anyone, even the goblins, knowing that I'm still a horcrux.
"Well, if that's all, you may follow me out." I gave Ironclaw a small nod as I was a bit lost in my own head at the moment.
August 30th, 1998
I spent several long months holed up in Grimmuald Place. At first, I had been inclined to still leave in order to visit my friends, but Ginny has gotten so clingy around me all of a sudden. Like, she keeps trying to flirt with me and it's making me super uncomfortable. I still allow Ron and Hermione to come over on ocassion, of course. They're still my best friends and I don't think anything could change that, not even the ridiculous trip I'm planning.
Just as I had slotted another rune into the time turner I was working on, Kreacher brought in the morning paper and some tea. I hadn't even seen him come in, but then house elves were meant to be servants that were hardly ever seen really. Oddly enough, besides my friends, I believe I'll miss Kreacher the most when I leave. He has really grown on me since I first moved into Grimmuald Place permenantly. I was taking a sip of my tea when an article title caused me to lose grip, ending with the cup smashing to the floor.
'HARRY POTTER; GOLDEN BOY SAVIOUR OR NEXT DARK LORD?'
What the fuck?! Is this just because I've been staying in my house?
Kreacher interrupted my musings, however, "Master Harry should be more careful. These are precious antiques!" The rest he said was but low grumbles that I couldn't totally catch.
"Sorry Kreacher." I apologised. I really hadn't meant to break the cup. "Reparo." I fixed it quickly and let Kreacher clean the resulting mess from when I had dropped the cup. Deciding I didn't want to read the rubbish that the Daily Prophet was spewing this time, I tossed the paper aside and focused on my pet project. It's not like anything they were saying about me would mean much soon, as long as I was able to enact my plans. Besides, getting angry at the bogus ramblings of some journalist isn't going to help prove them wrong anyways. Instead, I got back to work on my time turner.
October 28th, 1998
I'm not entirely sure how we got to this point, but it's probably because I still haven't learned how to control my anger and accidentally unleased it by cursing in Parseltongue.
"Harry! Are you even listening to me?!" Hermione was shouting at me, while Ron looked both mad at me and scared of his girlfriend.
"Yes," I sighed. "I don't see what the big deal is! So, I can still speak Parseltongue. Who cares? Voldemort is dead!"
"Not if you still have part of his soul inside of you, Harry!" Hermione argued. "We need to start researching how to remove it now!"
"We don't even know if it's anything to worry about, Hermione," I counter-claimed. "Besides, it's not like me, of all people, is going to turn around and bring him back anyways." I was shaking in anger and frustration, "Who's to even say I do still have the horcrux?! Maybe I can only speak Parseltongue still because I'm used to it or something."
"Well, we can't be sure until we do some research." Hermione groaned as she realised I wasn't taking her thoughts to heart, "Tell him Ron!"
Ron sputtered for a moment before saying, "Hermione's right, mate. It's not you that we're worried about, it's him." I groaned before letting myself fall back against the couch. I'd let my friends think they've won, but only because they likely won't find anything useful before I leave on my 'trip.'
December 23rd, 1998
Reluctantly, I removed the broken, horcrux locket from around my neck. I know, I must be crazy to have been wearing it at all, but it's been a comfort to me. Which, probably just makes me even crazier. Unfortunately, I'm not exactly sure how things will interact with their counterparts in the past, so it's best to only bring the clothes on my back and a money pouch. Bringing my wand might even be disasterous. I can always get a new one, though I know none would ever be as loyal as my current wand.
Assuming I did this right, the time turner should take me back to 1944 and near to where a young Voldemort is at the moment I land. Which, he should be at Hogwarts or perhaps the orphanage he grew up in. Hopefully the time turner can get me through the castle wards...
I quickly spun the time turner before I could even consider backing out, after all of my hard work. The world spun, very fast, in reverse and I felt the familiar pull around my navel, like when apparating or using portkeys.
The next thing I knew, I was falling from the air and onto my side with a giant 'thud.'
~L.V./T.M.R.~
December 22nd, 1964
Looking around the Riddle Manor, I couldn't help but sneer. I detested the place where my father and his parents grew up in the lap of luxury while I was forced to live on rations in an orphanage, during war time no less. Still, with a bit of sprucing up, it'll do for now. It's a pity that the Gaunts really did fall as far as they had or else I may have had a proper, wizard manor to move into upon my return from travelling. I suppose I could change my last name and try to bring the Gaunt name back into glory, but why would I ever do that? Lord Voldemort is the name everyone will know me as, so changing the name my weak, silly mother gave me is just time spent that I could be doing other things.
I already bought a house elf and put it to work cleaning the manor, so I set about creating the necessary wards around the property. Most were basic, muggle repelling wards while others made it imposible for any uninvited wizard to enter the premises, let alone walk through the door. By the time I was done, it was well passed midnight. However, the wards were now keyed only to me and my kin - which shouldn't be an issue considering the fact I killed off the rest of my pathetic relatives. Any other purebloods I may be distantly related to are too far removed for the wards to allow them entrance without my expressed permission.
Giving the manor entrance another once over, I made my way to the master bedroom. Once there, I was happy to note that it was already clean. Quickly changing into my nightwear, I laid down to sleep.
December 23rd, 1964
I was sat at the dinner table, enjoying a refreshing cup of tea, when a loud bang pulled my attention away from the article I was reading. My wand was already in my hand, ready to attack any unwanted guests or to curse my new house elf, when I looked over to see a boy pulling himself from the floor. There was an unusual air around him that felt very similar to a temporal disturbance. Letting my magic reach out around me, like tendrals, I also noticed that the wards around the house were undisturbed. That's not possible unless the boy is somehow related to me. Hmm, couple that with the disturbance to time, it is likely that the boy is my son perhaps. Maybe a grandson? No, son feels more likely. Not that I have any need for heirs or a family, but I suppose there are quite a few benefits to having one.
Rising from my chair, I stalked over to him. He seemed a bit disoriented, though the time turner around his neck proves this was planned. Curious. He turned around quickly to meet my eyes. "What's your name?" I asked. It's best to seem non-threatening unless necessary. I grabbed his chin in my hand; his facial structures are very similar to mine and he has the same black curly hair. Although, his is much more wild. His eyes are the beautiful shade of the killing curse. Whoever his mother was, I chose well. Oh, I'm sure I killed her soon after his birth, though. I have no need of a companion and the shade of his eyes are only worthy for a son of mine, not some lesser witch.
"Oh, uhm, Harry. You're Voldemort, right?" He still seemed a bit confused as to what was going on, which gives me the upperhand. He did, however, pull his face away from my grasp in a small act of defiance.
"I am, but you know that already." I wouldn't give any extra information unless needed, naturally. I walked around him to take a look at his abismal, muggle clothes. Muggle clothes of all things! I couldn't help the sneer that passed my lips. "Where had my future self gone wrong to allow our son to where such rags?"
His eyes widened in shock, likely because he didn't think I'd figure it out. "R-Right. Your son. Well, about that, you didn't exactly get to raise me." That made me seethe in anger. I bet it was due to that old fool, Dumbledore. "Is this 1944?" Harry asked half a second later.
"No, it's December 23rd, 1964." It would be best for him to know the exact date. "Why, what's in 1944 that's so important you'd risk messing with the timeline?"
"You," He answered, immediately. Even more curious. He said I hadn't raised him, yet he wanted to go back in time to meet me? "I didn't exactly get to spend any time really getting to know you and thought that would be a good place to start, where we would have been around the same age. 1944 also has the added bonus that I could have attempted to take down Grindelwald."
"Why is that?" I asked, leaving it open to see what he responds to.
"Dumbledore gained too much power from taking the Dark wizard down. It would have just been the icing on the cake really, but it wasn't my main objective." Harry replied, looking anywhere except at me.
"An objective set by my future self?" I asked.
"No," his voice was firm but not malicious. "I decided to do this on my own." He seems to have an issue with authority and choices being made for him. No matter, I'll get to the root of the problem in time.
"Why was it that my future self was unable to care for you?" I asked, leading Harry towards the dining table.
~H.J.P.~
"Why was it that my future self was unable to care for you?" Voldemort asked as he guided me towards the large table within the room; likely a dining table. He took a seat at the head of the table and I sat in the seat to his left.
"I was taken at a young age," I replied quickly. Why did I say that? Why am I even going along with this?! ...Well, at least it'll hopefully earn me his trust quicker. "I'm not exactly sure who took me, but I was placed with the Potter family at the time. I believe their and their friend's memories were altered to believe I was actually their son and you had no idea I had been given to them." Why is this so easy for me to fabricate? Is this what I want to have happened instead? I could feel his anger rising and couldn't stop myself from instinctively reaching towards my scar. It didn't seem to hurt anymore while he was angry. Perhaps because he doesn't wish to harm me right now? I quickly placed my hand back in my lap and hoped he didn't noticed anything odd.
"That doesn't explain your clothes," he finally stated after a long moment of silence. "The Potters are a well off family and, despite being pro-muggle, hardly go around wearing muggle garments. Especially not ones that are obviously too large." He was prompting me for an explanation, of course.
"You killed them around the time I would have been 1 years old." This part wasn't a lie.
"Because I realised you are my son?" I could tell he likely knew the answer to be 'no,' but still asked anyways.
"No, there was a prophecy," I explained. "It was self fulfilling from what little I know about Divination. It mentioned a boy who would be your downfall. He was to be born at the end of July. My birthday, or at least the one everyone has told me, is July 31st. The only other boy who fit the bill was a Longbottom. You, in the future, chose me over him. It was theorised you chose me over him because James Potter was a pureblood but his wife was, or will be, a muggleborn - thus making me a half-blood like you." He sucked in a deep breath at that; I could tell he was angry over the reminder about his blood status, so I held my tongue from saying anything else.
"I took Divination as well," he started, once he got his anger under control. "Why would I go after a mere toddler if it was self-fulfilling?"
"You never exactly heard the full thing and you were quite mad at the time. Not angry, mind you, but pretty insane." I answered. "Your spy, who reported the prophecy to you, also only heard the very beginning of it." Should I even be telling him all of this? I mean, the whole point of me going back in time is to change the future, so I suppose it doesn't matter too much. "My guess is that splitting your soul too many times sort of damaged your mind as well."
He narrowed his eyes at me, "So you know about my horcruxes." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"Yes," I replied honestly. "Dumbledore, at this moment, likely suspects you've made at least one. I advise that you visit Professor Slughorn and obliviate the conversation that you had with him about it."
He gave a small nod, "I will find the time to do so." We sat there in silence for about a minute before he asked, "Who took care of you, then? If I had no clue you're my son and the Potters were dead?"
This was probably the question I was dreading the most. I hate having to talk about the Durselys and how they treated me. I shifted uncomfortably for a second before answering, "I went to live with Lily Potter's sister. Lily is the name of James' muggleborn wife, by the way. Her sister, well, she wasn't magically inclined and married a man named Vernon Dursely. They had a son themselves."
Voldemort's eyes flashed red in anger, "Muggles." His voice was dripping with venom, though I knew he wasn't angry with me. And, isn't that a weird development?
I snorted, "The worst sort, according to Professor McGonagal."
"Did they harm you?" Voldemort practically growled.
I kicked my feet, just to have something to do, "They didn't treat me well but they never beat me, if that's what you're wondering. I don't like talking about it."
"Is that why your clothes look worn and are a size too large?" Well, I suppose that's a bit better of a question than making me admit they starved me as punishment.
"They used to be Dudley's. He has always been overweight and I've only ever been given his hand-me-downs." I explained, hoping beyond hope we can get away this conversation quickly.
"We'll get you proper clothes today." It wasn't a suggestion, but a comand. I may be an impulsive Gryffindor, but I'm not going to argue against getting new clothes. "What have you brought with you?"
I let out a sigh in relief. At least we're passed talking about the Dursleys. "Just what I'm wearing and a money pouch with a decent amount of money I took from the Potter and Black vaults in the future. I wasn't sure if anything else would cause a paradox or something if it were to interact with itself from the past."
"You didn't think to at least bring some robes to wear while in the Wizarding World?" He seemed a bit annoyed. I couldn't help but chuckle a little at that, earning myself a glare.
"S-Sorry," I said in between laughs while I tried to calm down. Clearing my throat, I admitted, "I didn't think that far ahead. I had an outline of a plan, but not many of the specifics."
Voldemort gave a sigh before replying, "In that case, we'll get you proper clothes first; including something you can wear out after the fact. Then, we'll get you a vault and access to my own vault."
"We'll need to stop to get my own wand too." I pointed out.
"That'll be our last stop then, before lunch." He agreed with a nod, before snapping his fingers and summoning a house elf. "Get some breakfast for my son." Just like that, the elf was gone. Voldemort's attention was immediately drawn back to me. "What name was given to you by the Potters?"
"Harry James Potter," It was a little odd saying my full name since I don't say it very often. I suppose I likely won't say it ever again, now that I think about it. Voldemort will probably change it to a name that reflects my status as 'Slytherin Heir.'
"Harrison or Hadrian then, for your new first name. Harry is far too informal." Voldemort contemplated as breakfast appeared in front of me. "Perhaps Salazar would be a good middle name instead of James." He sneered at the very idea.
"Subtle," I replied, sarcastically. I took a moment to think about each name before adding, "Hadrian Salazar isn't too bad, I think."
"Hadrian Salazar Gaunt," Voldemort amended. Of course it would be Gaunt, he'd never willingly pass down his own last name. I didn't have much of a reply besides a nod, so I began to eat my breakfast instead. Voldemort watched me eat, but it wasn't in an entirely creepy way. In fact it was oddly sweet, maybe? I'm not sure, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The breakfast consisted of pancakes and bacon, so I was more than happy to eat in silence; just enjoying the meal. Voldemort didn't have anything to eat, unless he already ate before I showed up here. Instead, he just had a cup of tea near him, that's likely cold now. There's also an abandoned Daily Prophet next to him. It was odd seeing the front cover of the paper now without it saying ridiculous things like 'Is Harry Potter the next Dark Lord?' "I believe you can wear some of my old school robes for now, before we get you something better to change into." Voldemort pulled me out of my musings.
I lightly choked on a piece of pancake, at the thought of wearing his robes, before replying, "I'm not exactly student age anymore, but I suppose there's nothing wrong with that."
"No? You look to be maybe 16 or 17," he spoke with an almost bored voice, but I could see a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"I'm 18, thank you very much," I sassed back.
"So you've finished your N.E.W.T.S. then?" He asked. I could almost believe he was fooling with me, but then he doesn't know anything of the future besides what I've told him.
"I've finished school, more or less," was my answer, very much evading the real question.
"More or less?" Voldemort's voice carried an air of danger.
"Well, I mean, my best friends and I were sort of relegated to a task that had us camping for majority of our 7th year. We weren't really able to get back to normal life until May 3rd of that year, or later really, when everything had settled. After that, all 7 years were offered to come back the next September in order to make up the year for our N.E.W.T.S. but, I didn't take the offer and instead took to researching Time Magic." I gave a shrug at the end. "Studying has never really been my thing. I'm really good with the practicals, though."
Voldemort lightly tapped a finger on the table, looking far more human than I had ever seen the other man, "I suppose I'll have to find some tutors for you, to make sure you know everything that will be necessary of you as my heir." He mumbled the next line, more to himself than to me, "Assuming anyone can be trusted around my heir without me present."
"I won't be torturing anyone," I replied, my voice firm. "Well, except maybe Albus Dumbledore, but I suppose you'll want to take him down yourself."
"Why him and no one else?" This time, Voldemort did sound very much amused.
"He stole from the Potter vaults, which were technically mine, and betrayed many people who trusted him. I have a personal vendetta. My original plan to dethrone him before he gained power is a wash, so I must adapt." I explained, waving it off like it was obvious. "Though, I ask that we attempt to bring the bastard down politically first before resorting to torture and murder. It'll be all the more sweeter to watch him fall in the eyes of the public."
"Did you ever take revenge on the muggles who harmed you?" Well, I wasn't expecting to be asked that, though I should have, seeing as this is Voldemort whom I'm talking to.
"No," I admitted. "I thought about it on ocassion, but my cousin was just leading by poor example and I didn't want to be the reason that another boy would be made an orphan. Dumbledore also made me go back there every summer," Voldemort made an undignified growl at the very idea. "He claimed that blood wards were protecting me from you and others who may want to harm me. Though, I found out later that I need an emotional connection to the people who are the 'anchor' for them to work. Even if I was related to the Potters and Dursleys by blood, the wards were never truly working." Of course, I am related to them by blood, but Voldemort thinks I'm his son and I'm going along with it. Therefore, he doesn't know I'm really related to them. "Then, even if they had been working, your future self used me in a ritual to return him to a body in my 4th year, so the wards definitely wouldn't have worked then." I laughed at that, though more at the idea of how I was stupid enough to have never thought about this fact before. I really was being dumb, wasn't I? I ended my small rant with, "It was pure luck that you never thought to look for me in the muggle world or ask one of your Death Eaters to get my address before the 2nd Wizarding War had started for real and my 'relatives' had left the country for good. Or, maybe it was an oversight. After all, you weren't quite right in the head then."
"I lost my body then, at some point?" His voice was barely above a whisper and he sounded anxious. I realise that I probably shouldn't have told him, but I can't take it back now.
"When you tried to kill me as a baby," I confirmed. "I'm still not entirely sure what made the spell backfire that night." He was quiet for a long time before I cut through the silence myself, "He came out looking more like a snake than a man," I held an amused smile. "Many people believed it was from all the Dark Magic, but I just think something went wrong in all honesty."
He seemed to be in thought for a moment before asking, "What was the ritual?"
"Oh, I don't know for sure. I was bleeding pretty bad and it was all sort of a blur," I was definitely second guessing bringing this up now. Hopefully it won't cause me to have nightmares later or, at least, hopefully no more than usual. "I think it was a mix of a spell and a potion. There might have been some rune work too, but I couldn't really see under the cauldron. I do know the potion included flesh of the servant, bone of the father, and blood of the enemy. The fresh was willingly offered, bone unknowingly given, and blood forceably taken, or some bullocks like that."
Luckily for me, he seemed to leave the questioning at that, "You have very poor, crass language." He scrunched up his face slightly in disgust.
I chuckled, "I grew up with muggles who didn't quite care to teach me anything and one of my best friends was an ill-mannered Weasley. It would be a miracle if I some how came out acting 'proper' at the end of it."
"You won't be making friends with any more Weasleys," Voldemort ordered.
"I will make friends with whomever I deem fit," I argued. "Though, it's doubtful any of them, in this time, would want to be friends with me." Besides, I could likely never find anyone good enough to completely replace Hermione and Ron. Not allowing him to argue back, I asked, "Shouldn't we be leaving for Diagon Alley soon?"
Voldemort waved his wand, summoning some of his robes, which he handed to me. "Wear these robes over your muggle rags, then we can leave." I quickly slipped them on while he waved his wand again, this time to put a heating charm on the robes. "Seeing as you were friends with a Weasley, is it safe to assume you weren't sorted into my own house?"
"The hat almost did," I admitted, much too easily. This was something I hadn't even told my best friends, but talking to Voldemort just came easy somehow.
He frowned at that, "I hope you weren't avoiding it because of me."
I shook my head, "Actually, the Malfoy in my year had just insulted my first ever friend and I didn't want to be in the same house as the git." It was actually quite silly now that I think about it.
I considered it a win that I earned a small, amused smile from Voldemort at that, "That sounds like a very foolishly Gryffindor thing to do."
"Well, that was the house that I actually ended up being sorted into, so it makes sense," I had my own amused smile upon my lips.
Voldemort rolled his eyes, albeit quite playfully, "What's next, admitting to being pro-muggle?"
I shrugged, "Indifferent really. I realise that people's intentions towards one another is what matters, but that most muggles would wipe us off the planet if they knew of our existence. However, one of my best friends was a muggleborn. Her parents loved her no matter what and always allowed her to spend a good part of her summers at The Burrow. I also found out recently that the biggest reason that Purebloods dislike muggleborns and muggle raised half-bloods, besides prejudice, is because their traditions are being replaced with muggle ones. I think we should try educating them instead of kicking them out entirely, though I know you don't exactly agree."
"You've thought about this a lot," he noted. "Is this something you can back up with well thought-out plans for? Better than the one you had while travelling back in time?" Huh, I thought he was just going to tell me I'm wrong and should never bring it up again. Really shows how little I know about the man before his descend into madness.
"I do have several plans," I admitted with a smile, actually quite happy I was finally being taken seriously for once. No longer am I the boy saviour that everyone uses for their own gain. "If you're willing to listen to them later, I'm sure we could do some real good and figure out some ideas that would make both Light and Dark wizards happy. In turn, avoiding war between ourselves and dwindling our own numbers over disagreements."
"I might just take you up on that offer, not that I care much for 'doing good' as you know," Voldemort returned a smile, just for me. A mask replaced it a second later, but seeing it at all was the world to me, "We really shouldn't dawdle further. Are you able to apparate or do you need me to side-apparate you?"
"I haven't apparated too much, but I did earn my license in the future," I answered, a bit sheepishly. With that, we both silently apparated to Diagon Alley. Truthfully, it wasn't much different from the future aside from more of the buildings being actually used, instead of vacant. "So, clothes first, yes?"
"Correct," he confirmed. "I prefer Twilfitt and Tattings myself, so that's where we'll get your robes." I lightly rolled my eyes at that, knowing it also to be the favourite shop for the Malfoys and other purebloods. Though, I shouldn't assume anything else from Voldemort, really. I had to jog lightly to keep up with his near monstrous stride, but we soon made our way to the South Side of the alley and entered the clothing shop.
"My Lord," came a greeting from the man behind counter. Looking over to me, with calculating brown eyes, he asked, "And who's this?" He had short, dirty blonde hair that framed his sharp yet thin face perfectly. He was wearing extravagant robes that clung to his tall, skinny frame. He wasn't quite taller than Voldemort, though.
"My son, Hadrian Gaunt," Voldemort's tone was polite, but both the man and I knew there were undertones of 'don't question me further.' "Always a pleasure to see you, Lord Starling." A pureblood, then, but not part of the Sacred 28.
Lord Starling returned a polite smile to us, "What can I do for you and your son, M'lord?"
"Hadrian is in need of a whole new wardrobe," Voldemort commanded. "Everyday robes, dress robes, underclothes, undergarments, sleepwear, shoes, and socks will all be required."
"Well, Heir Gaunt, if you'll follow me, I'll get you measured while our Lord picks out a few fabric materials that catch his fancy." I gave Lord Starling the most polite smile I could muster and followed him towards the back of the shop. I certainly wasn't looking forward to being poked and prodded, nor Voldemort picking my clothes for me, but I also have no fashion sense. Therefore, it's likely for the better that I'm not the one choosing everything. If I had my way, I'd just go to the muggle side of London and purchase a couple pairs of pjs, jeans, shirts, hoodies, underwear, and socks. All of which wouldn't garner me much favour with many witches or wizards, unfortunately. Especially not any from Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
I was lead back to a private room to remove all but my underwear. Upon seeing my muggle clothes, I quickly explained it away so Lord Starling wouldn't be too suspicious, "I recently got back from a mission that involved me needing to blend in with the muggle public." He seemed to accept that answer and quickly got to work, getting all my measurements. Luckily, it was over quickly. Voldemort came back to replace my old clothes with a pair of robes and underclothes, that had been pre-sewn.
As I was getting dressed in the new robes, which were simple and black with snake clasps, Voldemort turned to discuss specially made clothes with Lord Starling. "Pure silk should be used for Hadrian's sleepwear, as well as lighter sets of robes and underclothes for the warmer days. Cotton for his normal robes, underclothes, undergarments, and socks. Cashmere for his Winter clothes, with velvet-made fabric for his dress robes and underclothes." I probably couldn't identify much about any of the fabrics he listed, but I know most of them are likely luxurious. The clothes I had put on easily shrunk themselves to fit me and I felt a little out of place in them. "We'll take Dragonhide for his boots. If you have any currently in the shop that will fit him, we'll take a pair today. As for designs, make sure they all have the Gaunt family crest, except his dress robes. Those should have the Slytherin family crest instead. Stay away from colours such as red, orange, yellow, and purple. I hope I don't need to explain why."
"Of course not, my Lord." Lord Starling gave Voldemort a bow. "I'll look to see what sizes we have in boots and note down all of your preferences. You should receive your order no later than tomorrow morning."
"See to it," Voldemort dismissed Lord Starling.
"Is the purple restriction because it reminds you too much of Dumbledore?" I asked with amusement.
"He used to wear far more sensible clothes, you know," Voldemort replied with a scowl. "Now, he just doesn't have any fashion sense."
I shrugged, "Are the other colours because of Gryffindor?"
He made a look of disgust, "They clash with your eyes." A moment later, Lord Starling came back with a pair of boots for me to try on, which I promptly did. As I stood up, I immediately realised they are far more comfortable than they should or even have any right to be. Voldemort turned to give Lord Starling a polite smile, "I'll be seeing you again soon, I'm sure."
"I'm sure you will, if you're going to the Malfoy Yule Ball, that is." Lord Starling's smile looked much more genuine.
"Ah, yes. That's on the 31st of this month, as always." Voldemort replied. "My son and I will surely make an appearance."
"I'll see you then, my Lord." Lord Starling gave Voldemort a bow, then turned to give me one as well, "Heir Gaunt." As soon as he left us alone, I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding. Interacting with purebloods is exhausting. I have no clue what's actually expected of me; who I am or am not supposed to bow back to. Though, I suppose Voldemort wouldn't want me bowing to anyone besides, perhaps, himself.
"Isn't the 31st your birthday?" I asked Voldemort a moment after.
"Yes," he raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm surprised you know that."
"Well, we are exactly 5 months apart." I replied with a shrug.
"According to the Potters," he added in a whisper, so only I could hear.
I smiled, "I think it works for us, no?"
"I suppose it does," he conceded as we exited Twilfitt and Tattings. I lightly jogged behind, as Voldemort made quick way towards Gringotts. As we stepped through the doors of the ornate, white building, a goblin came over to meet us. "Let your gold prosper, Bloodfang." Voldemort didn't do the customary bow, but I'm surprised he greeted the goblin at all without barking orders at him. Voldemort, of course, does not bow for anyone.
"May your enemies fall beneath your feet, Lord Gaunt," Bloodfang greeted back. "What business do you have at Gringotts today?"
"I'd like for my son to set up a vault and add him to my own," as soon as Voldemort replied, Bloodfang motioned for us to follow him. Goblins really are quite efficient workers. We were lead to a private room in the back that seemed to be Bloodfang's office.
"We will need to establish proof that he is your son," Bloodfang told us, once we were all sitting in the chairs provided to us.
"He's from the future, so I doubt a blood test will work," Voldemort admitted.
"A soul test, then," Bloodfang offered.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the goblin, "What exactly would a soul test entail?"
"It won't give us any information on your individual souls, just if they recognise each other as being related in some way." Bloodfang reassured us as he set two potions in front of us. Voldemort immediately pulled out his wand and did a few spells over the potions that were offered, likely testing for poison. With a nod, both Voldemort and I drank the vile substances. After several seconds of nothing happening, our bodies glowed blue then purple.
"What exactly do those colours mean?" Voldemort asked Bloodfang, once we stopped glowing.
"Blue means a familial relation and purple means that you are or will be closer than the first colour, blue, suggests." Bloodfang explained as he got a few others things out and set them on the table. "I can easily get your son access to your vault, Lord Gaunt, however, I will need to put together some simplance of documents in order for him to open his own. As we can't do an inheritance test, I'll need to fake one."
"Could you give us a moment to discuss?" I asked, gaining a raised eyebrow from Voldemort. Giving us a nod, Bloodfang left us alone in the room. I put up a few privacy charms. "I know what's normally included on inheritance tests and we have no one to pretend to be my mother. What if someone on Dumbledore's side gets curious and looks at my documents in the ministry?"
Voldemort smiled as he leaned back and crossed his arms, "Seems you do think somethings through."
"The hat wanting me in Slytherin wasn't just a fluke," I sassed. "Seriously, though. I could just put the money I have into your vault and leave it at that."
He shook his head, "If you want me to take a more political route and integrate muggleborns, then you'll have to put in some of the work. You can't do that if the ministry can claim you don't exist at all."
"Well, who will we say my mother is?" I asked, trying to prove my point.
He thought for a long minute before replying, "There was a French pureblood witch who used to send me banned artefacts and tomes. She was a blonde and had green eyes, not nearly as beautiful as yours mind you." I felt my face flush at the compliment. "She was much older than me, in her late 50s, I believe, and recently died from dragon pox."
"Won't her friends and family know that me being her son is a lie?" I asked, a bit nervously.
"She didn't really have any family or friends. She was sort of a recluse and became estranged from her parents before their death at the hands of Grindelwald." Voldemort admitted. "Acquiantances, sure, but those were purely through pureblood galas and balls. None of them really knew her at all."
"You're positive?" If we were going to use her name, we have to be sure.
"Trust me, I had her followed very often to make sure she wasn't telling anyone what we discussed in our letters or what types of things she was sending me." He replied, confidently. Of course he would do something so controlling.
This could actually work! Wait, did I want it to? Yes, yes I do. Why, though, I'm not entirely sure. I gave him a smile, "You'll have to teach me French, then."
"I'll be teaching you more than French," Voldemort amended, "but that is the best place to start in order for her relation to be believed."
"What was her name?" I asked. "I'll need to know how to pronounce it for it to be believable."
"Armelle LaRue," he answered as Bloodfang reentered the room.
"Have you both come to an agreement?" Bloodfang asked as he sat back down in his own chair.
"Yes," Voldemort answered for us, once I removed the privacy charms I put up. "What do you need Hadrian to do?"
"He'll need to take a test to tell us what his magical affinity is. The rest I can fill in with the information given to us." Bloodfang explained.
"Let's get the test out of the way first, then." I told him. A second later, he was waving a cauldron into existence. It held a shimmery, blue liquid.
"Inheritance tests are impossible as a time traveler so that no one can be told information about the future. However, affinity tests aren't under the same restrictions due to the fact that knowing about a person's magical core isn't really damning information." Bloodfang handed me a knife. "You'll need to cut or prick your hand and allow some of your blood to fall into the cauldron. If the potion turns white, then your core is Light. If it turns grey, then your core is Grey. Lastly, if it turns black, then your core is Dark." Huh, I never knew each person's core was inheritantly different.
Cutting along my hand, I winced slightly and allowed my blood to drip into the potion. A second later, the liquid turned white and I could swear I heard Voldemort groan. So, my core is Light, but what does that mean exactly? I would have thought it would be Grey considering the darker aspects of magic I've been getting into lately. Unless it's not something influenced by the magic you do?
"Congradulations, you have a Light core," Bloodfang's response was sarcastic. "For the other information, what is your name?"
"Hadrian Salazar Gaunt," Voldemort replied, barely letting Bloodfang finish asking his question.
"Birthdate?" Bloodfang asked next.
"July 31st," I told him.
"1946 for the year," Voldemort added. I rubbed the back of my head in embarassment, having never been very good at math.
"Lord Gaunt for the father," Bloodfang began, but I cut him off.
"Wait," both room occupants looked at me in confusion. "What is the law in the Wizarding World regarding name changes?"
"Hadrian, we agreed-" Voldemort started to tell me.
"No, for you, not for me." I explained, "I know you hate the name your mother gave you. If we're already here doing this, we might as well find you a name you like too." No way am I letting Bloodfang put 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' for my 'father' when I know the man despises his legal name. I leaned over to whisper in his ear, "A name that isn't the 'Dark Lord Voldemort.'" He looked at me with confusion and almost entirely masked awe. "You could make Marvolo your first name," I suggested. "However, since your grandfather had the same name, you should choose a middle name as well, just so it's a bit different from him." I looked to Bloodfang and singnalled for him to answer my original question. Voldemort seemed to come out of his shock half a second later.
"There are no laws pertaining to name changes, as it doesn't happen very often. I can file one for Lord Gaunt, if he decides to change it." Bloodfang replied. "The action doesn't alert the ministry or anyone else to the change, so it would be up to Lord Gaunt to notify anyone important of his new name."
"Marvolo Arius Gaunt," Voldemort said after a long moment of silence. "Arius, coming from the Greek word for immortal," he told me in a whisper. I laughed a little at that, but not in a mocking way. It's perfect for him.
"You wish to go ahead with a name change, then?" Bloodfang asked to confirm.
"Yes, I would," Voldemort told him. Bloodfang spelled another parchment into existence and quickly filled it out before it disappeared again.
"You are now Marvolo Arius Gaunt," Bloodfang told us before drawing his attention back to the parchment he was filling with my information. "What shall I put for the mother?"
"Armelle LaRue," Voldemort told him.
"You do know that if Heir Gaunt isn't truly related to her that he can't actually obtain any LaRue vaults or Lordships, correct?" Bloodfang asked.
"I understand," Voldemort confirmed. "We have no intentions to claim any of that. It's more there to keep ministry officials and aurors from asking too many unneeded questions."
"Witches and wizards are too concerned about knowing each other's business," Bloodfang commented as he put the name of my 'mother' down. Then, he pulled out a vault key and handed it over. "Your new vault will be number 883. Do you have anything to deposit?" I nodded and handed over my money pouch. He did several spells over the bag before handing it back. "The money now resides in your vault and I connected the pouch to it, as well." I rehooked my bag to my trousers as Bloodfang summoned a tray with rings for us. "These are the Gaunt and Slytherin Heirship rings. If they accept Hadrian as a true heir, they'll merge and size themselves to his finger." He handed over two of the three rings and I took them, nervously. What if they don't accept me? A slew of horrible scenarios went through my mind as I, shakely, slid the rings onto my ring finger. To my utter shock and delight, the rings accepted me! I'm sure it looked like my eyes were about to fall out of my head, as I stared at the rings on my hand. Bloodfang was now handing the third ring over to Voldemort, "You never attempted to claim the Slytherin Lordship ring. You may do so now, if you wish." Voldemort took the ring, far more confidently than I had, and slid it onto his own finger next to the Gaunt Lordship ring, which I'm sure is a horcrux by this point. The Slytherin Lordship ring did resize itself to Voldemort's finger but did not merge with the Gaunt Lordship ring like the Heirship rings had. Bloodfang addressed us again a moment after, "Will that be all Lord and Heir Slytherin-Gaunt?"
"Yes, that is all Bloodfang," Voldemort confirmed. "May your wealth never faulter."
"Let your gold everflow," Bloodfang replied with a smirk. Neither said anything more after that and I followed Voldemort out of Gringotts.
I let out a sigh in relief, "Time to get my wand!" I smiled brightly, suddenly realising how much I missed it. Voldemort shook his head in disappointment at my childishness, but I just took off towards Ollivander's. I opened the door and held it open until the taller man caught up with me. Garrick Ollivander was heard in the back of the store but quickly came rolling up to the front on one of the moving ladders.
He gave me a smile, so I naturally smiled back. Hopping down, he came towards us and walked around the counter. "Yew, Phoenix Feather, 13 and a half inches," was the first thing Garrick said while pointing at Voldemort. "A wand meant for great things." He added, smile a bit more tense, but still genuine. Then, he turned his attention towards me, "I have not had the pleasure of giving you a wand, my lad."
"We're actually here to purchase a wand for him," Voldemort clarified. He seemed oddly relaxed around Garrick, but then again I don't believe the man ever truly picked a side in the war. He just wanted to be left to his wandmaking.
"A bit late to start school," Garrick noted.
"I was homeschooled," I easily lied, "I used a wand that was handed down to me, but it never worked quite right."
He laughed at that, "Of course not, lad. The wand chooses the wizard, after all." He grabbed out a measuring tape. "Which is your wand arm?" I held out my right arm for him and he measured it with quick ease. Then, he disappeared back into the shelves without so much as muttering another word.
"If this is anything like the last time for me, you might want to get comfortable." I told Voldemort in a hushed voice.
True to my thoughts, I've went about trying several dozen wands at this point and none have connected with me. Maybe I should just ask to see my original wand. Just as I thought that, Garrick had an epiphany. "I wonder..." He disappeared once again, only to come back less than a minute later. Cautiously, he removed my wand from its box, "Holly, Phoenix Feather, 11 inches." I had to stop myself from snatching the wand from his fingers, as I held out my hand for him to hand it to me. Gripping the handle of my wand, it was just as magical as the first time. I felt at peace once again. "Curious." Garrick said a moment later. Voldemort suddenly rose from the chair he claimed about half an hour before and walked over to us.
"What's curious?" Voldemort questioned.
"Your wands are brothers," Garrick sounded astounded and, quite possibly, ready to faint. "I never thought I'd get to see either of these wands sold in my lifetime, let alone both of them," he mused to himself.
"What exactly are brother wands?" Voldemort pressed.
"Well, the feathers in both of your wands came from the same phoenix, who has never given another feather since." Garrick explained, slightly coming back to the present. "Brother wands are extremely rare, the last brother wand pair I know of was about 200 years ago now. It's speculated that Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin had brother wands as well, but it was never proven as Salazar's wand was passed down in the family and Godric's disappeared after his death."
"What does having a brother wand entail?" Was Voldemort's next question. Honestly, if it wasn't for him persuing world domination, I'd almost mistake him for the male version of Hermione.
"Well," Garrick began, "brother wands refuse to harm each other, for one. They also refuse to harm the witch or wizard who is chosen by their brother, even before the other wand is claimed. It will fight against its owner, no matter how loyal, in order to protect its brother and brother wand's owner." Garrick was completely over his shock now, fully convinced to tell us everything he knows. "Brother wands only happen between powerful beings whose pair is meant to bring out the best in them. When brother wands have chosen two wizards in the same era, it's meant to mark the coming of change to the Wizarding World. If the wizards who hold the brother wands work well together, the change is supposed to be drastic yet wonderful. If the wizards work poorly together, the change is suppose to mark the start to war and suffering for all - including the two wizards." Wow, that's pretty heavy. Was this why the future Ollivander looked at me the way he did the first time? As if I had just doomed the world?
"Well, seeing as Hadrian is my son, I believe we work fairly well together." Voldemort reassured the older man. I had to stop myself from snickering at that. Sure, there's a good chance we'll work quite nicely together now, but that definitely wasn't the case previously. Though, I suppose that was the fault of an insane Voldemort.
"Your son?" Garrick asked, looking me over. Possibly, he was noting the similarities between Voldemort and I.
Awkwardly, I grabbed Garrick's hand to shake, "Hadrian Gaunt, sir."
"Garrick Ollivander," he introduced himself, obviously a little bit confused at the situation.
We pulled our hands away from each other and Voldemort interrupted the slightly uncomfortable autmosphere, "Could we get a wand holster for him? We don't wish to take up any more of your time." His voice sounded polite, but I knew he didn't actually mean it. He was doing it solely for appearance's sake.
"Yes, of course," Garrick quickly replied, wanting to get away from the uncomfortable tension in the room as well. "What colour leather would you like, Hadrian?"
"Black is fine," I told him, having no clue what other colours there even were. He rummaged through a few drawers before he came over with a holster.
"This one should be the perfect size for your arm and wand," he told me as I rolled up me sleeve for him to double check the size. It did fit just as he suspected, so I put my wand in my holster and rolled my sleeves back down.
"Goodbye," I quickly told Garrick before practically dragging Voldemort out of the shop. "Where are we going to get lunch?" I asked once we were back in the alley.
"The Blue Moon Cafe," Voldemort told me in response. "It's the only place to eat that I'll visit in Diagon Alley." I rushed to keep up with him again as he took off towards the other side of the alley. Soon after, I tripped over a dent in the cement walkway, causing my glasses to fall off my face.
"Oh no," I groaned. Luckily, Voldemort seemed to hear me and turned back around.
"Can you not see anything without your glasses?" He asked, a bit shocked.
"I can see blury outlines, but that's about it," I admitted with a small chuckle while he handed my glasses back to me. "I can almost believe I got cursed with bad eyesight," I joked as I put my glasses back on.
"Reparo," the new cracks on my glasses quickly knitted back together.
"Thank you," I told him with a smile.
"Don't thank me just yet, I'm adding another stop to our day before we go back home." Home. My heart clenched tightly at the idea. Besides Hogwarts, I've never had a true home before. Now, I may finally have one. A real home.
"Where's that?" I asked. I could feel Voldemort putting up several strong privacy wards.
"We're going to get your eyesight fixed," he stated in reply.
"There's a way for us to do that?!" How had Hermione not known about this? She was the one who had looked into ways to make wearing glasses easier for me. Shouldn't she have figured out that they could be fixed?
"With a potion, yes," Voldemort confirmed. "It's marked as Dark, though, so we'll need to go to Knockturn Alley."
"Why is it seen as Dark?" I asked, confused.
"I believe some muggleborns saw it as an unfair advantage to muggles," he admitted. "It also requires the eyes of a unicorn to make. However, the Potions Master that I trust to do this for you doesn't slay unicorns to get them. He waits to harvest needed ingrediants from creatures who die of natural causes or buys from those who do the same, when he's running low and isn't able to go find them himself."
"That's it?" I mean, yeah it would be terrible to hunt unicorns for their eyes, but that's why you make no hunting laws and things like that.
"You're not as Light in your beliefs as one would expect from your core affinity," he admitted.
I shrugged, "There has to be a balance to everything and, as I said before, intentions are what matters." Something caused me to shudder just then, but it wasn't the cold or the snow getting to me.
"You cold?" Voldemort teased as he reapplied a heating charm to my clothes. Bloody hell, what has the world come to? The Dark Lord just teased me, of all things.
"Thanks," I replied, honestly. "It wasn't the cold, though. I think I feel someone watching us."
He nodded, "I feel that too. It's likely one of Dumbledore's lackeys who happened to be here today."
"Do you think they'll follow us into the cafe?" I definitely don't like the idea of our peaceful lunch being ruined by one of the Order members.
"I doubt it," he said. "The Blue Moon Cafe is owned by a Dark family."
"Ah," I gave a knowing smile, "That's why it's the only place in Diagon that you'll eat at."
"Did you expect different?" He asked, slight amusement shining in his eyes.
"Never," I chuckled lightly as we entered the cafe.
We were immediately greeted by a greying witch, "Good afternoon, my Lord. It's always nice to see you grace us with your presence. Just two for today?"
Voldemort cancelled the privacy charms around us and confirmed, "Just my son and I." I wasn't sure if he was casually admitting that to see how long it would take for the news to spread or as some way to claim me as his. Actually, knowing Voldemort, it's probably for both of those reasons.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Heir Gaunt," The witch told me while she lead us to a booth towards the back. I immediately noticed that every table seems to have their own privacy charms set up. Smart. Voldemort and I sat opposite each other as I was handed a menu. "Would you like a menu as well, my Lord?" Honestly, I am a bit shocked at the lack of questions from everyone today. Perhaps Voldemort's followers just know not to ask, but neither Bloodfang nor Ollivander asked much of note regarding my sudden appearance and existence. I mean, I literally just showed up out of nowhere and Voldemort is telling everyone I'm his son! It's completely bonkers and no one should be chill about it at all. Obviously, only I know that it's not true, but I'm sure they're curious to some degree. The youngest anyone could assume I am is maybe 15 and that's stretching it quite a bit. I'm not some newborn that Voldemort is having to carry with him during his errands. That has to raise questions, right?
I vaguely registered Voldemort replying with, "No, I'll have my usual." Shaking myself from my thoughts, I began to look through the menu. Most of it seemed way too fancy for lunch or even for a cafe to have, but I really shouldn't be all that surprised since Voldemort eats here.
"Perfect!" She turned to me, "Do you need a moment to decide, Heir Gaunt?" I will never get used to that title.
"Uhm," I said before making a split second decision, "I'll have the chicken stew with potatoes and radish, please." I may be crass, but I didn't grow up with the Dursleys of all people without having some manners drilled into me.
Our waitress seemed taken aback, "W-what would you like to drink?"
"Just water is fine, thank you," I replied with a small smile.
"O-of course," she replied with a smile as she took my menu back and left to tell the chef our order.
"Seems you have some manners," Voldemort noted with an amused smirk.
"My so-called relatives did have some expectations of how I should treat them. I just hardly listened and didn't like treating them how they expected me to." I replied with a shrug. A second later, we were receiving our drinks. Voldemort's seemed to be tea. Before Voldemort could continue our conversation on the matter, we were interrupted by a group of bleach blonde wizards. Likely Malfoys, I thought sardonically.
"I hope you don't mind, my Lord," the male said. "We noticed you were present here and felt we should deliver your invitation to our yearly Yule Ball in person." He barely gave me a sideways glance but kept up the perfect mask, not revealing any of his thoughts or emotions on the matter.
"Of course, Abraxas," Voldemort replied, "I expect nothing less. Would you care to join us? I have a few things to discuss with you." Though his tone wouldn't have given anything away to any onlookers, I knew, as did Abraxas, that it wasn't a request.
"We would be honoured, my Lord," Abraxas replied with a slight smile. Both him and who I assumed was his wife gave Voldemort a small bow. Voldemort was already moving my cup of water next to him before standing up next to the family beside us.
"Hadrian, come sit next to me." Voldemort commanded, earning an eye roll from me in reply. My actions made Abraxas and his wife tense in response, causing me to snort internally. Despite my defiance, however, I still got up from my seat and moved to sit on the inside of the booth across from my previous seat, next to Voldemort. The other two adults looked startled, likely by the lack of punishment towards me, but only for a split second. The child with them, who is likely theirs, sat on the inside of the booth across from Voldemort and I. Then, Abraxas' wife sat down, then the man himself. Voldemort was the first to break the silence, "I believe introductions are in order."
"Of course," the woman began, "I'm Anastasia Malfoy Nee Selwyn." Of course they're Malfoys. Who could have seen that coming? I asked myself with sarcastic amusement. Lady Malfoy reached across the table with her hand. Taking it, I placed my lips against her knuckles; something I observed between Narcissa Malfoy and another wizard once. It seemed to be a customary greeting.
I wasn't able to get a word in, however, because Abraxas was introducing himself next, "Abraxas Malfoy. It's a pleasure, I'm sure." I opted to shake his hand, as it seemed like a safer choice.
"This is our son, Lucius," Lady Malfoy introduced their son. Honestly, at first, I wasn't even sure if he was a boy or not. Awkwardly, I shook Lucius' much smaller hands as well. It took all my willpower to not burst out laughing as his mother said his name.
"Hadrian Gaunt," I finally introduced myself. Well, myself as I was now known. "It's nice to meet you all as well." Abraxas and Anastasia seemed momentarily shocked at my name, bit quickly schooled their features into their pureblood masks.
"What is your relation to our Lord?" Was Abraxas', surprisingly, brave question.
"He's my father," I replied, finally testing the word 'father' on my lips. It's as weird as I had imagined. I decided very quickly that I wasn't going to be calling him that very often.
If they had been surprised at that turn of events, they didn't show it. Voldemort didn't allow them to question further, though, as he delved right into business, "That brings me to our first order of business today, Abraxas. It would seem Hadrian's mother was a bit, shall I say, lacking in his education. I will need a list of tutors from you, that are completely trust worthy, to educate him in a few areas. Primarily etiquette, Wizarding customs, Wizarding traditions, and how to navigate the current political scene in the Ministry. I will also need books from you to expand on the languages he can speak. Let's focus on German, Dutch, and Swedish for now. He also needs to brush up severely on his French."
"Of course, my Lord," came Abraxas' quick reply. He pulled out a notebook that seemed to have some sort of task or to-do list written in it. "Any preferences for the tutors? Do you wish for them to be from pureblood families? British born? Any preferences in their gender?"
Voldemort seemed to think for a moment, "Just make sure that they don't have a history of being unprofessional with their older students. I refuse to allow anyone to tutor my son who may distract him with frivolous things such as flirting."
"Father!" I complained, surprising myself and seemingly Voldemort himself too. Though, he kept his mask up in front of the Malfoys. I could not believe he just said that or that I called him 'father' in response; like an annoyed teenager who just had their parent embarass them. What has the world come to?
"I'll ask around to weed out anyone with a history of that sort of thing, my Lord," Abraxas replied, seemingly ignoring my outburst.
"See to it," Voldemort responded, leaving no room for Abraxas to argue or go back on his word. "Soon, I will also need your resources to be available to have my son take his N.E.W.T.S. at the Ministry. As he has been entirely homeschooled, he'll need to take them." He had given the Malfoys more explanation and information than they needed, which I founded odd. Then again, the Malfoys did seem to be in his high graces until Lucius Malfoy screwed that up, by being a giant coward no less.
"Of course, my Lord. Shall it be kept underwraps or would you like it leaked to Dumbledore to see how he reacts?" Abraxas asked, just as our waitress came back over.
"Underwraps, for now," was the simple reply.
"A pleasure to see you, Lord and Lady Malfoy. Would you and your son like your usuals?" The waitress asked the blonde haired family.
"Yes, Lady Hawthorn," was all Abraxas told her before she was walking from our table once more. He didn't even let his wife and son decide if that's what they wanted. Seems like a very one-sided family dynamic. His attention was immediately back on Voldemort again, "I do have some information regarding the last task that you set for me. Please let me know when you're available for visitors or to meet me at my manor, my Lord."
"I'll be available once my son and I are done with our shopping today. We have one final stop after lunch." It was weird to see Voldemort all serious when I had spent a majority of the morning and part of the afternoon bickering and joking with him.
"That works perfectly, my Lord," this time it was Lady Malfoy who spoke. "It'll give me plenty of time to have the house elves make tea, for when you're both attending to business."
"Your hospitality is always gracious," Voldemort commented. Though, I knew he likely didn't really feel all that gratefull. It was more probable that he expected it of them, but was just being polite and civil while in public.
For one reason or another, I decided right then to be a little shit, "Do you have a broom at our manor that I can borrow? I haven't been flying in a while and I'll need something to occupy my time while you're discussing things with Lord Malfoy that I'm not privy to." The Malfoys all seemed to hold their breath in that moment.
"Why don't you read instead?" Voldemort countered.
I scrunched my nose in distaste, "That's more your thing."
"This is why you've fallen behind in your studies," Voldemort replied, just as distastefully.
"Alright, I promise to do some reading, if I get to fly around the manor grounds," was my cheeky response.
"A pity," Voldemort began, "I don't have a broom to take you up on that offer."
I gave a very dramatic sigh, "And my plan was so perfect too!" If it weren't for the Malfoys looking at us with morbid curiosity, I could have almost forgotten they were even there; infringing on our lunch time. I should get a radio for the manor, it'll surely annoy the hell out of old Voldy. I had to stop myself from laughing aloud at my own thoughts. Honestly, it wasn't a terrible idea. I could spell the radio to play music throughout the whole manor, as often and for as long as I wished.
Instead of gracing me with a response, Voldemort went back to his discussion with Abraxas. Well, it was more like commanding Abraxas to do his bidding. "Abraxas, I will also require information on all of the current, big political members within the Ministry. Some of our other plans will be put on the back burner, for now, as contingency ideas to fall back on."
Either Voldemort's words shocked the other man or he still hadn't come out of his shock from before, because Abraxas still looked slightly wide-eyed. "You wish to take a more political route, my Lord?"
"I refuse to put my son's life in jeopardy," was the only explanation Voldemort felt he needed to give the Malfoy Lord.
"Of couse not, my Lord. Neither would any of us expect that of you." Abraxas quickly tried to appease the Dark Lord.
It was Lady Malfoy who made a much more graceful recovery, "What are your plans for garnering more favour from Light and Grey families, my Lord?"
Voldemort's lips curved slightly, into a very smug and mischievous smirk, "You'll see. I do believe my son will be part of the key to that. While his name won't garner much trust, I'm sure his personality will."
"Me?!" I practically choked on my own water, which I had been taking a sip of.
"He and I will be discussing more solid plans on the matter, later," was Voldemort's response to the Malfoys, as opposed to addressing me at all. It made me a bit annoyed, but I suppose he's just used to acting and doing things a certain way.
The rest of lunch passed fairly uneventfully. I made some small talk by asking about Lucius (who is currenly nine years old, oddly enough) and poking the ocassional fun at Voldemort. Other than that, however, it was a primarily silent and boring affair. While I suppose I could maybe understand the appeal of sucking up to the Dark Lord because of the power he wielded, I could not understand sitting through a meal with him if I was just some lacky follower. He positively refused to engage with the Malfoys to discuss anything outside of Death Eater business, which he was keeping pretty underwraps due to our current location and the fact that the Malfoys had their young child with them. Despite the fact that the Malfoys are like his top Death Eaters! The food was salivatingly amazing, though. I had to give them that at least.
Once Voldemort had said his goodbyes to the Mafloys and informed them he would be over in the next hour or so, I dragged him in the direction of Knockturn Alley. Which is where I assumed our next stop would be. It was obvious the older man didn't like my manhandling, but he didn't comment on it. Likely because he felt the same as I did - the uneasy chill of being watched was back from before we went into the Cafe. Once in the alley, I let him lead us to the shop where we'd be getting the potion for my eyesight. After all the time travelling and other activities, I felt exhausted. I just wanted to get back to the manor and curl up on a bed to sleep. Hell, at this point, I'd sleep on a couch if need be.
Opening the door to a shop called 'Pure Potions,' Voldemort let me go in first. How quaint, I thought with sarcasm.
"My Lord!" An excitable and, seemingly, eccentric man greeted us. "How may I be of service?"
"I'm looking for some Visu Reparatione, Gregorio." Voldemort explained.
"Ah, a very expensive potion that. I'll go get some for you, my Lord." Gregorio disappeared a mere half a second later.
"Gregorio Nightshade," Voldemort told me. "Not the brightest Potions Master ever, but eager to please and very competent." I gave him a nod in understanding just as the Potions Master made his reappearance from the back of the shop.
"Am I safe to assume it's for the young lad?" He asked us.
"It is," was Voldemort curt reply.
Gregorio then walked over to me, holding out the potion, "Strong stuff that. You'll want to take it all in one go. I'd advise taking it in the safety of your own home, as it can be unbearably painful for some. Once the pain has subsided, your vision will slowly improve over the next day or so."
"Thank you, Gregorio," I told him with a smile.
He gave me a dramatic bow, "You're very welcome, mini Lord." I laughed in amusement at that.
"I like him," I told Voldemort, genuinely. "You should definitely keep him." Voldemort looked very annoyed at the theatrics, but didn't say anything about it. Which, came as a surprise really.
"How much for the potion?" Voldemort had gotten out instead, sounding obviously annoyed.
"Normally, it costs 100 galleons, but I'll give you a 50% discount, my Lord." Gregorio replied with a genuine, yet mischievous smile. Voldemort quickly handed over the 50 galleons and turned to leave the shop. "Please stop back again, my Lord!" Gregorio called out to him. I'm not sure why, but I found it quite funny.
"Gregorio, I believe we may become good friends," I told the man before taking my own leave, to catch up with Voldemort. I was jogging, trying to catch up with the man's long stride, when I ran into someone. "I am so sorry!" I blurted out, without thinking.
"No, it's quite alright." The man looked oddly familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. "I should have been paying attention to where I was going." His smile, while seeming nice and genuine, caused me to feel uneasy. Still, I gave a polite smile in return.
I gave a small chuckle, "I suppose we're both at fault then. I am sorry, again. I was trying to catch up with my father, but he's really tall and moves fast." Again, I had surprised myself with how easy I had said the word 'father.' Perhaps it was easy to pretend things after I spent years living up to the Golden Boy image that everyone wanted from me.
"Do you need help locating him?" The man offered. Looking around, I realised that I, in fact, could not get a glimpse of Voldemort anywhere.
Still feeling uneasy around this man, I shook my head. "He's probably at one of the apparation points. I don't wish to take up anymore of your time."
"Well, if you're sure," The man replied.
"Yep! Very sure. Have a nice day!" With that, I quickly departed from him and began walking towards the apparation point that Voldemort and I had used earlier. Once there, I tried to look around for perfectly curled, black hair.
"Hadrian," Voldemort called from behind me, startling me from my search. "What took you so long? Not distracting Gregorio from his work, I hope."
I turned to face him, "No, I accidentally ran right into someone while trying to catch up with you." I gave him a deadpanned look. "You walk way too fast for me," I complained.
"Who was it you ran into?" He asked.
I shrugged, "I don't know. We didn't exchange names or phone numbers or anything. He seemed familiar, to be fair, but I can't place him." I gave a soft chuckle, "Well, seeing as he's a wizard, we wouldn't exchange phone numbers most likely." I mused to myself more than anyone else.
"We do not own a telephone." Voldemort growled out. I think I may have heard him grumble something about 'infernal muggle contraptions.' Then, very suddenly, his face and voice softened, "I'll try to walk a bit slower and keep better track of you when we're out."
I playfully rolled my eyes, "I can look out for myself."
"That remains to be seen," Voldemort retorted. I could tell, despite his ever present mask, however, that he was quite worried about losing me. Even just in the crowd. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had both been great to me, honestly, but even they never seemed to give me quite that level of care. Though, perhaps, they always just expected that I could handle myself, at least when doing simple things like getting lost in crowds. They did try to make me feel like part of their family, but I always still felt like an outsider. Besides, they had seven kids of their own to love and care for, meaning they could never give me nearly as much as I strived for. Never half as much as I yearned for, in all honesty. It was both endearing and annoying to have Voldemort, of all people, look out for me like that; even in his own way.
Feeling eyes on us again, I pushed Voldemort further towards the apparation point. "Let's just get out of here for now. I hate being watched and you have that meeting with Lord Malfoy to attend to." Giving him a cheeky smile, I added, "Race you back home!" With that, I apparated away.