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Slytherin Castle
September, 1991
Marvolo picked up today's edition of the Daily Prophet, before turning towards the gossip page. While he doesn't put stock into such a thing, with his son's emergence into the public eye, he needed to keep tabs on public opinion of the Heir to four houses. Not much has been published involving Hadrianus yet, but Marvolo knows, it is only a matter of time.
After all, they didn't have much information on his son yet.
As he turned the page, he was both surprised and yet not, to find his son and himself the subject of at least eighty percent of gossip columns, with the Boy-Who-Lived making up the rest! Everyone seems to be enamored with his son, how cute and polite he was, how he is topping all the classes, and how fashion sense seems to start a new trend among the adolescent wizards, swapping away all the old traditions and fashion styles!
Marvolo snorted. Clearly, neither of them saw beneath the polite mask of his mischievous imp. He sighed, folding the papers back, and picked up the pile of letters as Davy brought them, trying not to dwell on how quiet the Castle has become since the child was gone.
He was bored.
Before the child left the entire Castle was filled with joyous laughter and mirthful glee, he hadn't realised how much Mother Castle had been laughing and playing with the child as well. She was so full of light and gaiety whenever Her Heir was around. Now that the said child had gone to Hogwarts, Mother Castle seems to be sulking, missing him.
Marvolo sighed, dropping the letter from his son on the desk of his study, his eyes involuntarily going towards the unoccupied giant furry bean bag chair beside him.
Now that his son was gone no one was here to claim that seat and read or poke around like a curious puppy, or talk his ears off, or annoy him into giving him permission to visit all the creatures around the Castle, or ask him to accompany him flying around on his broomstick, or fluster him with those weirdly uncanny yet strangely insightful questions.
Nagini, who seemed to still be pouting, was coiled up in front of the fireplace on her heating mat that her Hatchling had gifted her, probably yearning for the child's presence more than Marvolo, given the fact that she had spent every moment she possibly could with him for the last few years. And according to his letters, he seems to be missing her as well.
"Hadrianus sent you a letter," Marvolo informed the Maledictus who immediately perked up at the mention of her child.
":What does he say?:" The eager mother asked.
":Apparently he is freaking out after smelling blood and pain on so many girls yet none of them seem to be interested in visiting the Infirmary,:" He chuckled, ":He also sent you a letter in Parsel-script. I suggest you explain to him about women's menstrual cycle or at least suggest some books, before he does something drastic and probably embarrassing. :"
Nagini let out a peal of hissy laughter as Marvolo levitated her letter and let it hang in the air in front of her, who raised her head to read it with eagerness she hadn't shown even when she was breaking the bones of her Hatchling's bully of an 'uncle' and cackling with glee.
Marvolo left her to it as he relaxed into his comfortable throne-like regal lounge chair. Seeing the letter in Parsel-script brought up a memory that he had long buried deep in his mindscape, protecting it with the fiercest weapons he could find. He glanced at the occupied Maledictus then hissed the password at one of the hidden chambers at his desk. The security of the desk unlocked for exactly ten seconds, letting him fetch an old moleskin pouch. He hadn't checked or even seen the moleskin pouch since his resurrection, he had no need.
But now, he held the pouch in his hand again, carefully pulling out a small Holy Cross necklace, a well-used school bag full of equally well-used clothes, all the parchments and notes full of Parsel-script with now very familiar calligraphy, and the well-thumbed-through magazine that he kept under excellent preservation charm with a nostalgic and fond smile.
After all, they all carried the only proof of some memories that had been the direct and indirect reason for everything he did since April of 1943.
*Memory Flashback*
Hogwarts Castle: Chamber Of Secrets
14th April, 1943
Tom M. Riddle was roaming in the Inner Chambers of the Chamber of Secrets, searching for something to keep his mind occupied and not let him dwell on the incoming summer vacation, which was starting in a few weeks, as well as the terror in Muggle World it would bring. If what he had read in the newspaper was true, it was becoming even worse than last year, with all the bombings and attacks on Muggle London by Germans. And he already has enough experience to know what it meant for him: Starvation and life-threatening situations with every second he was out there and without access to his Magic. He had stopped using even Wandless Magic since he got to Hogwarts, fearing expulsion.
He was terrified, now more than ever.
Tom groaned, resenting the feeling. He hated being weak, and feeling like some simpleton prey. He was not a prey by nature, he was made to be a predator.
Merlin! Was there anything around here that could take his mind off the impending doom?
Tom sighed and sat on the throne-like chair in the chamber's library, dragging his shaky hand across his face and letting his Magic and emotion out, not being able to hold them off anymore.
No, he didn't cry, crying was for the weak. But that didn't mean he wouldn't find an outlet to let it go.
Maybe because his emotions and Magic were so unrestrained and fretful, he missed the tell-tale signs of the beginning of the powerful maelstrom of Magic, thinking them to be his own. However, he did notice it when the maelstrom of magic became more powerful within seconds, conjuring rapid winds.
Tom instantly became alert, his mask and shield snapping into places and his Yew wand sliding in his hand. Without wasting a second, he examined the Magic quickly. It was somewhat unknown but familiar in some way, as if someone very close to him was performing some unknown branch of Magic- at least it was unknown to him.
But only because he hadn't bothered to study Temporal Magik. It shouldn't have been possible, as Tom had no one he could call 'close to him'. However there was no time to think, it was getting stronger with every passing moment. Tom quickly rose to his feet and immediately leaped into action, searching for the source. His heart rapidly thumped in anticipation...maybe he would find a family member who will take him away from the impending doom? Maybe...his father had come to see him? He quickly tracked the Powerful magic.
It was coming from the Ritual Room of the Inner Chamber.
Tom stood at the door of the room, watching with disbelief as a runic circle - that was definitely not there before - started to glow, emitting beautiful rainbow colours. The wind was whirling in rapid motion in the middle of the circle.
Then all of a sudden everything stopped, and the whirlpool of Magic crumbled into dust in front of his eyes that was absorbed by the remnants of a runic circle around that didn't fade.
That's when he noticed that the Magical wind had produced, out of nowhere, a teenager, who had landed on the floor in a rather undignified manner with a muffled 'OW!', which was followed by an exclamation, "Verdammt! Father is really, really going to kill me!"
Tom gaped for a second before his brain kicked in and he realized it should have been impossible. The Chamber Of Secrets has been keyed to the Wards to let none but a Slytherin by blood. A Parselmouth.
So who else other than a Slytherin by blood knows about the Chamber and its password? The boy... who was he? How did he come here?
And why does he think his father was going to kill him?
As he was wondering this, the boy, seemingly oblivious to his presence, shook his head in a typical snake-like fashion, and stumbled, attempting to stand up after the rough landing.
Tom immediately raised his Wand. Before the boy could so much as move, a string of magical nets formed around him that consisted of real, live writhing snakes. Tom expected the boy to be shrieking in terror and shrinking away from them, but to Tom's further consternation, all he did was letting out a surprised gasp, ":Oh, hello there, where did you all come from? Mind getting away from me? :"
And Tom was so surprised that he almost didn't notice the snakes hissing out ":Speaker!:" and then slithered off of him, swinging around him like ropes, docile and obedient.
The boy was a Parselmouth? But how was that possible? All the books said it was a rare gift, the only exception being for the Descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself! Was the boy his cousin or something like that? Is that why his Magic felt so...familiar?
Did that mean, he was his competitor for Slytherin Heirship?
The boy was wearing wizarding clothes as Tom had never seen before. A sleek-looking midnight black coloured long-sleeve knee-length buttoned dress robe that was buttoned up till his neck and parted to the side by his knees, with knee-high black leather boots with laces and belts. It was fitted at the waist and there was an intricate design in gold along the hem that gave it an exotic look. Tom could see cream-coloured trousers underneath, and there seems to be a matching dark cloak with a hood clasped near his neck with...was that a gem button?
It was obviously not a Hogwarts Uniform, so Tom couldn't tell which House the boy was from, and he didn't seem to be wearing any House colours, but instead chose to wear a dignified combination of black and complimentary light colours. That is, if he was from Hogwarts. He looked to be about Tom's age and had a similar build, obviously a Pureblood, and definitely from a reputable and rich family. Judging by the faint trace of foreign accent Tom picked up from the short exclamation, as well as the style of the robe, he couldn't be from Britain, as the purebloods around here seemed to be stuck in centuries-old clothing style.
And he couldn't have avoided Tom's observation if he was a Hogwarts student. He radiates a powerful aura around him, yet he was so in control of his Magic that after the initial shock, Tom couldn't read the boy's signature anymore. His wordless Legilimens bounce off what seems to be a well-guarded shield. The boy is a master Occlumens - natural or taught?
Tom banished the unfaithful snakes, now determined to learn about this new stranger and find out if his Heirship was at risk. If so, however regrettable, he would kill the boy himself. If not, The boy would be an important ally and Tom would persuade him to join his Knights of Walpurgis. He could be a jewel to his Knights, maybe one day he could become his second in command.
As Tom approached him, the boy looked up at him, he saw his bright green eyes go wide and gaping...similar to what the muggles call 'deer in the headlight'.
"Was Zur Hölle?" Tom heard him whisper under his breath, "F-father? Hi! How did you - Did Lady Hogwarts tattle on me again? Am I in trouble?" The 'deer in the headlight' look changed to become what can be called 'sad puppy eyes'.
This time, Tom blinked at him. Did the boy just call him 'father'? And what he meant by 'Lady Hogwarts tattle on him'?
What was happening?
The more he stared at the boy, the more he noticed their... resemblances that were visible even in the dimmed sunlight that filtered through the lake water above them coming from the window. The dark raven hair - so much similar to his own but longer, and suitably styled, reaching up to his shoulder and rich green wide eyes that stared right back at him.
There was something familiar about him. Something...that called Tom towards the boy. Like his Magic is claiming that boy as his.
Who was he?
Just like he was studying him, the boy seemed to study him as he slowly stood, his eyes still wide and... alarmed? "Father? You look like... did you take a de-aging potion? Or is it..." Suddenly something flickered in his eyes that made him freeze, his mouth opened in a surprised gasp before his hand over his face. As if he just realised what has happened.
Was the boy suffering from some kind of Hallucination?
De-aging? As intriguing as that sounds, Tom does not need de-aging himself. Besides, Tom would rather like to know how he appeared in the Chamber.
"You look like you have figured out what has happened, that makes one of us." Tom rolled his Yew wand in his hand, not lowering it just yet, but the boy seemed to pay no attention to him as he slowly lowered himself to the ground, both hands covering his face and muttering unintelligibly. Now Tom was a bit irritated, more so as he couldn't read the other boy's mind and figure out what was happening.
"Are you going to explain what's going on or not?" Tom demanded, tapping his foot impatiently.
"Yes, dad, I will explain! Can you give me two minutes to freak out first?" The boy answered moodily, before resuming his muttering.
Tom scowled at the sheer cheek of the boy. Why would he give a trespasser time to freak out and then regroup before attacking him?
"Okay, first of all, it was you who somehow appeared in my territory in a whirl of Temporal Magi..." Tom trailed off, as his mind connected the dots, making everything snap into place. At last, the puzzle was starting to make sense.
Temporal Magik. An Ancient kind of Magic that dealt with Time and Place. Then a boy appeared, identified him as his father, then asked him if he de-aged.
Which meant...
Tom slowly put his Wand down, now understanding why his Magic had been calling towards the boy, claiming him as Kin. Yes. It all made sense. A boy with an immense innate power that bore a strange resemblance to Tom's magical signature - as if he was a part of Tom - Here was a boy who belonged to him. Undoubtedly, his future son.
As he opened his mouth to demand the boy confirm his suspicion, he noticed the boy was still in the same place, on his knees, face covered by his hand.
Was he still freaking out?
Well, he could easily confirm whether or not the boy was his son with one sentence. Tom cleared his throat, his Occlumency shields firmly in place as he recalled all the Pureblood fathers he had seen, and then pictured himself in their place.
What would he do if he had a son that fell apart in front of him for some reason?
"Stop letting your emotions weaken you and shield, child!" He said, using his best authoritative voice. He watched, silently amazed as the boy immediately breathed in deeply, hands falling to his side as his face shed all the shreds of emotion as he slowly stood. Tom could almost see his Occlumency shields snapping back to the place, containing all of the boy's panic, burying it deep within.
Marvellous! This boy really was his future son, and obviously well used to his commands for obedience and attention. Having a son, or even a family of his own was an intriguing idea Tom never knew he wanted to have.
Tom approached the boy who was still on the ground, cupping his chin, and found himself truly delighted with all the similarities he could see. Same dark black hair, sharp jaws, and high cheekbones, down to soft and plump pink lips - everything... except, those bright green eyes.
Tom had to stop himself from purring in pleasure as he stared at those unnaturally bright and beautiful eyes. They were the exact shade of the Killing Curse.
They had to be family, and the paternal bond must be really strong between them for him to feel such a way, even when he has not established the bond, not yet.
Tom smiled, so this was what family magic felt like? No wonder everyone loved their family, to feel such beautiful magic thrumming between them all the time. Tom had never felt such a feeling before, he never knew how much he needed to feel this. He thought all of these emotions insignificant, a burden.
If his mom had been alive, if his father knew about Tom's existence, would they feel the same way as he did around his own future son?
He felt eternally drawn towards his future son, knowing he is Tom's, his blood running in his vein. Someone whom he could call family, who wouldn't abandon him, who won't call him a freak. Someone who belonged to only Tom in blood, soul, and magic.
It also meant he would survive the stupid Muggle war. And then he would thrive enough to produce an Heir and give him the luxurious life he deserved - judging by the expensive, rich, and stylish clothing, he noted with satisfaction. As they came nearer, Tom noticed the intricate designs in the golden thread were actually beautifully done by runes. Mostly protective runes, from what Tom could decipher.
Now, all he needed was to find the person - whoever his bearer was - with eyes the same shade of Killing Curse green. He didn't like the idea of touching another, but to feel such magic all the time, he would do what was needed.
"Why, hello there, my future child!" Tom said giving a shark-like grin to the face that was so similar to his, he could get used to this.
"What brings you here?"
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