Chapter Text
His Slytherin Descendants (Harrison POV)
I'm fourteen years old.
I'm also the son of Tom Marvolo Riddle and Bellatrix Druella Black.
I hate my life.
My existence is for the sole purpose of passing down the Slytherin legacy. My mother thinks our conception was about devotion and favor from the Dark Lord, but I know better. Tom Marvolo Riddle fucked her because she was the only loyal female Death Eater in his circle that would carry his twisted seed. He used her, just like he's going to use us when he comes back into power.
I gazed across the top of my book and into the dark corner that housed Bellatrix and Damon, my twin brother. How fortunate am I to share my burden with someone the same age as myself? But fortunate is the opposite to reality. Bellatrix favored Damon. I no longer concern myself with her preference, considering she has legitimate reasons to prefer Damon over me. For one thing, Damon has the appearance of a Slytherin heir: black hair, lightly bronzed skin, black eyes, and the sharp teeth that Salazar was infamously known for. Not to mention, he's tall and burly at the ripe, young age of fourteen.
Me, on the other hand? I have dark auburn hair that shines bronze in the sunlight, pale skin, and green eyes. My statue is petite with cheek bones that stick out noticeably along with a pronounced Adams apple adorning a thin, long throat. My mother says my eyes come from the pits of hell, and my hair comes from my Muggle grandfather, whom my father had killed at the young age of sixteen. That made me feel special.
Anyway, Damon and I aren't exactly twins--or fraternal twins, if you're slow like I supposedly am.
You might think that having a thin frame and green eyes is Slytherin, but trust me, I've researched Salazar Slytherin, and Damon looks like his identical twin. Save for the goatee that hasn't had the chance to claim the baby face.
But even if I did look like my brother, I would still be invisible to my mother, Bellatrix, as I have been for the past eight years of my life. Why? I'm a Squib. Or, at least, that's what everyone thinks I am thanks to a premature diagnostic from a Healer. But I'm no Squib. I'm quite powerful despite childhood setbacks. I read and absorb books obsessively, and I practice 'silly wand waving' at night when my mother and brother are sleeping. I can't help the fact that I'm a private person. I never like the small gatherings Bellatrix holds with the rest of the Death Eaters awaiting my father's arrival.
You see, Damon is a very confident person. Don't get me wrong, I am confident, too, but he's confident in public. More than that, he's arrogant, snobbish, and incredibly full of himself when he knows that his father is the Dark Lord of Slytherin.
When I was younger, Bellatrix looked down on me with a curl to her lip as a Healer declared I was a Squib. She has never looked me in the eye since then. The only reason she keeps me around is to have the Dark Lord, my father, dispose of me when he gets back.
That's my guess, at least.
And he will be coming into power shortly. Those whispers and jumpy auras are enough to scream 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' is finally coming back. But I'm not worried about good old papa. If it is Fate's hand who takes my life, I will not complain; although I have my own plan if I have a chance to escape.
Why must I have an escape route, you may ask?
Well, Bellatrix dutifully raised Damon and I to be the best version of ourselves in preparation for the Dark Lord's return. You see, Slytherin's power only passes down to one, true magical heir. And whoever that is, Voldemort will mark as his right-hand man, his heir.
Not that he needs any heir with all the Horcruxes he has created… but I've come to terms that Damon is the true magical heir. He will be pledged into our father's circle, and I will remain invisible if I haven't been killed for being a prematurely declared 'Squib' in my youth.
But-and no bragging intended-I am powerful. I know I am. I can duel faster than my twin brother, and I can conjure advanced spells that were well past the Seventh Year curriculum at Hogwarts. I know I can be even better if I didn't have to practice under the cloak of night. But again, I know Damon is the Heir of Slytherin. How could he not be? He's every bit as arrogant as our father. And honestly? That works out in my favor. I don't need my father's approval like Damon does.
"Come now, my sweet." Bellatrix cooed at Damon's elbow. "Try harder."
I looked over my book again and resisted the smirk of satisfaction. Damon was trying to talk to the serpent. Even if one practiced night and day, they wouldn't suddenly acquire the borne talent of Parseltongue. Oh, did I mention I can talk to snakes? Of course, I keep that bit of information secret, also.
I'm sure your doubting the fact that I'm not the Slytherin heir, but really, I'm always right. Damon is the magical heir. Plus, I don't think I can be the heir with my father. That position requires being by the man's side constantly. I told you I'm a private individual, and he would be overbearing. Or, so I tell myself that.
I know this is off topic, but…my name is Harrison Black-Riddle.
"He'll be here soon," Damon whispered harshly, glaring at the snake with those Slytherin eyes of his.
Bellatrix patted the boy's shoulder. "He won't mind, Damon. After all, you are his true heir."
She threw a thinly veiled, pointed glance in my direction, but I paid no heed. I was thinking about what Damon had stated about our father coming soon. He was probably coming back with the means of the whole Twi-Wizard tournament. Neville Longbottom, the boy-who-lived, had been submitted into the tournament by Barty Crouch Jr. It was a clever plan, but a little too public for my tastes.
But who was asking me?
A part of me wished I could've gone to Hogwarts with children my own age. I know I'm much more mature than them but things get a little lonely around the cold manor. I can't talk to my mother, or brother, or snakes, for that matter. It would be fun to watch the drama unfold between a horde of teenage witches and wizards. The closest I get to drama is when Draco Malfoy occasionally visits, and he and my brother get loose lips and brag arrogantly with each other.
I guess that's my weakness. I crave for the touch or whispered words of affection I see my mother give Damon. I crave for something I can never have, and that's why my heart is slowly turning into stone.
But again… isn't that what I was born to be? A heartless monster?
I took my book and headed out of the library without them noticing.
I never did feel the occupants of the manor eyeing me. Their forked tongue flicked out affectionately after me.
--Slytherin--
I was sitting in the manor's parlor. All around me, Death Eaters were restlessly pacing, looking at each other from underneath those white masks.
My brother was sitting proudly with his hood down, basking in the fleeting glances thrown his way. Conversely, I was sitting in the corner with my hood up, stiff and prepared to flee. Maybe if I didn't own just this one, ratty cloak, I might be wearing something of rich material in celebration...considering my father had just come back into existence.
Yes, that's right. He was reborn again last night.
It's now early morning, and the dark wizards and witches were pacing restlessly around our manor. How boring. I wished I had my textbook with me. I was currently reading, 'The Woos of Lady Death'. It sounded like a trashy romance novel, true, but it was about dark runes and rituals. I had studied one obsessively enough to nearly recite it by memory. It was a ritual that would remove my heritage and render me "just Harrison". I was eager to try it, damn the consequences, but I hadn't been able to perform it before my father came back.
My eyes wandered across the occupants of Bellatrix's manor. The Malfoys were here, Bellatrix was sitting near Damon with a crazed smile upon her face, and Snape was sulking in the corner opposite me. That man always interested me. He reminded me of myself. After completing the ritual, I wanted to become a potions master with an unknown past. Everyone would be afraid to dig deeper into my life. I could find someone…and maybe love them, if I wasn't already too damaged to experience love.
Maybe I could go to Hogwarts.
Speaking of Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom got away. Pathetic, I know. My own Dark Lord of a father couldn't even kill a fourteen-year-old Gryffindor. I know exactly what happened. He'd been bragging to his Death Eaters how easy it was to kill the Boy-Who-Lived, that Longbottom had slipped away. It was mere proof that Damon was Slytherin's true heir, not me. I would've just skinned the boy as soon as my eyes met his.
At the moment, Voldemort was in the other room, seeing a skilled Healer.
My attention returned to Snape, who gazed across the room with the same eyes my mother and Damon shared. I hated those eyes. I heard my father also had black eyes before they turned crimson.
The potions master gave a respectful, short nod in greeting. I almost blinked in surprise. He'd never done that to Damon before. Tempering my surprise, I nodded shortly in return and kept my gaze on the man. He couldn't see my face under the hood, but somehow he knew it was me. It only made my interest in him heighten.
The Dark Lord's door opened. And I finally saw my father.
He was ugly.
That was the first thing that came to mind, but soon, his appearance became inconsequential when his aura and immense presence filled the room. He…was remarkable. There were no words to describe the awe that befell the room. Now this was an ideal Slytherin heir. He might have pale and scaly skin with no nose or hair, but the man was powerful, and, unfortunately, power drove people in society. His crimson eyes surveyed the room, passing my form briefly and moving on as if I were nothing to him. He probably didn't even know he had children.
"My followers," he rasped, waving a hand with long, pointed fingernails, "we are finally reunited, and we will reclaim our rightful place in society. Together, we will bring the Wizarding world to its knees."
Bellatrix navigated across the room and settled to his left side, an honorary position for a consort. I thought I saw Voldemort grimace, but in an instant, his face was carved from stone.
People all around me dropped to their knees with excited murmurs and praises. I guess I should follow them considering I don't want his attention on me.
When I was on my knees, my mind began to race again. It was ironic. I'd craved my father's attention since I was a young boy...dreaming of impressing my sire enough that he'd love me. How foolish. Look at him: a creature without sentiments. Look at me: my head was bowed away from his gaze, and I huddled into the darkest corner of the room.
Nothing new there.
I decided then, on my knees, that I would leave this place before my father had a chance to notice and resent me like Bellatrix and Damon. I would never be accepted here. I had a long life in front of me. I couldn't throw it away so easily. Not when I finally had the means of erasing my heritage. The thought of Dumbledore entered my mind. I knew he used manipulation on his closest puppets, but then again, he wouldn't look down on me for being just a regular, ordinary boy.
"It has been a grueling day, my followers. I must retire and so must you. Keep news of my rise to power within our ranks. Let me gather my full strength, and we will strike with crushing force."
Let him gather his strength? After this demonstration of power? Maybe I would have to rethink running to Dumbledore and declaring a side in this war. Maybe Snape had a potion shack in Greece.
Chants swept eagerly through the crowd, sending shivers down my back.
Or, then again, maybe somewhere further away. Like Japan.
I looked up and watched as Voldemort swept toward the room he had just entered from. Bellatrix gave a whine like a pathetic dog and started off after him. I gave a dark chuckle as the door slammed in her face.
My cursed green eyes swept toward Damon to see a frown of disappointment on his face. That must have been a blow to his ego, never one to be ignored. Welcome to my bloody life, brother dearest. I'm sure Bellatrix is used to it from long ago, but she's too dim-witted to realize she's being manipulated.
The Death Eaters started to move out, and I stood along with them. I wasn't going to get in the middle of their hissy fit. I noticed Snape fall back near me. It wouldn't be an odd sight, but considering he's the one that always runs out of here first, it was unnatural.
We stepped out of the warm chamber and out in the brisk early morning. My small room and precious library were across the grounds and near the cemetery. Aside from it being quiet, it was far from Damon's and Bellatrix's rooms. But even if I was at a distance, I still had to keep a low profile considering the two might visit the library.
"Young lord?" Snape whispered, causing me to stop in my tracks.
"I'm not your lord, Snape." My head snapped in his direction, which was toward the blowing wind. The breeze played with my hood, revealing my features and messy bronze hair.
He was surprised at my appearance, which made me even more peeved. He hid his surprise well, but I could see his black eyes spark. "Of course. If you insist."
His voice was so dry, I loved it.
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at me with his crooked nose. I even liked his nose.
The man was a puzzle. I loved puzzles and riddles, and anything that challenged me.
"Is there something you wanted? I must get going." I didn't have anywhere to be, and while I wanted to see more of this man, I was uncomfortable with talking to anyone but myself. I lacked the social cues and intelligence.
Those black eyes looked through me, and I repressed a smirk. I was an Occlumencer, and he was a Legilimencer. We didn't mix in the slightest.
"I'm sure you are busy." There was that dry tone of his, almost sarcastic. "I happen to notice you aren't especially close with your mother or brother, and I am curious as to your relationship with them."
I schooled my features but inside, locked behind my Occlumency, I was shocked. How dare him step this close to my private life? He obviously underestimated me for my age. "I am as close as a Slytherin family can be, Snape. We sit down for crumpets and tea in the afternoons and share our deepest secrets and desires."
I watched his lip twitch upward. "I'm sure. No matter. If you do not wish to tell me, I am skilled in Legilimency, and your brother isn't skilled in Occlumency." I knew my brother would ruin everything. "He holds you in slightly higher regard than the rubbish he recently disposed of."
"That's higher regard than I'd assumed."
That's all I'm going to say. Really… I'm not starved for attention and affection like my brother is.
I'm not...
"And your mother is interested in telling the Dark Lord of your existence. Can you possibly guess why?" His eyebrows rose toward his high forehead, and I watched in boredom as a piece of greasy, black hair started to flutter in the wind.
"Of course. I am his son, after all." I mirrored Snape and crossed my arms in front of my chest. "Really, Snape, I wouldn't have believed you'd find my life so interesting as to impose on it so clumsily." I paused, my voice caught in my throat from the disuse. "Unless you're trying to tell me something I don't already know about my life?"
The Death Eaters were already gone, leaving the two of us standing between a few headstones. I bet Bellatrix and Damon were still waiting outside of Voldemort's room like good servants.
A curl from Snape's upper lip caught my attention. How could the man have so few face expressions, yet each one was fascinating to watch?
"It's because you're claimed as a Squib."
The way he said 'claimed' made me realize he knew I wasn't a Squib.
"How did you know?" I hissed, dropping my mask and stepping closer to him.
"Simply because I was the one who manipulated the Healer to claim you as a Squib."
Everything froze within me. I once read a book about a boy whose heart stopped from shock. I could never understand how someone could experience emotion on such a level as to permanently stop a natural rhythm. But now I understood.
I withdrew from him, intent to retreat to my sanctuary. But a strong hand grasped my thin arm and jerked me toward Snape's tall form. "I did it for your own good. For our own good."
I stared at his hand on my arm. No one had ever touched me. Seeing my expression, the man dropped my arm.
Stop—what the bloody hell did he say?
"I don't understand." I hissed like a true Slytherin descendant. "Why would you declare me a Squib? For whose own good?"
"I knew you were going to end up like your brother if I hadn't declared you a Squib. Warped and spoiled by your mother. Is that the way you want to be? Arrogant and so big-headed that everything slips your notice?" He looked at me closely. "I had sensed significant magical potential from you at a young age and knew of the potential dangers if you were to grow up under Bellatrix's adoration. I've watched you from a distance, and I admire your growth. Harrison, you are the magical heir of Slytherin."
The wind played with my hair, sending bronzed strands into my eyes. I just looked at him blankly, too shocked to formulate a thought.
"I did this for you and the rest of the Wizarding world. If Damon were to be named heir, he will destroy the dark side from the inside out. If you were to be heir to your father, at least you would have some dignity and smarts about you."
Even if it sounded ludicrous, I understood why he did what he did.
If he hadn't named me Squib, I would've ended up like Damon. And just the thought of that made my stomach churn. The price for having a good head on my shoulders was the loss of motherly love and affection. But I'd seen the affection Bellatrix bestowed on Damon, and quite frankly, I wasn't sure if missing out on that had been a true sacrifice.
Snape had preemptively thought ahead. Without Bellatrix's attention, he knew I would mature quickly before my father came into power. If two powerful Slytherin descendants were to have the personality that Damon had, then the dark side would be doomed.
"That's a good theory." I replied breathlessly, admiring Snape through my resentment. "But unfortunately, neither you nor I choose who is named heir. That duty lands on my father's shoulders, and from where I'm sitting, Damon makes the perfect candidate."
"If you are set against competing with your brother for the position as your father's heir, and improving the Dark from the inside, then come to the Light side. They can use a wizard with your abilities."
My eyes narrowed. I smelt manipulation.
The wind became stronger, causing my cloak to flutter violently. "Are you really on the Light side and planned this out since day one? Or was it Dumbledore's plan? To twist me into your own pawn and use me against my father? Comfort me when I'm at my lowest and offer me what I always craved?"
Snape looked at me with satisfaction. I was uncomfortable underneath that stare of his. "It seems that way, yes." Was all he said, silently applauding me on my instincts.
"What side are you on?" I asked softly, seeing a figure stand in the doorway to my father's manor. It could've been Voldemort himself, Bellatrix, or even Damon. It was too hard to see from here.
"I'm on the side you've found yourself. In between until the path leading to survival reveals itself."
I allowed myself to smile at that. I really adored Snape. A true Slytherin.
I stood still for a few minutes, watching the figure stare down at us from the doorway. "Have you ever heard of the book The Woos of Lady Death?" At seeing the man give a short nod, I continued. "The ritual of the Dark Descendants?"
I watched Snape's eyes widen in surprise and suspicion. "You wish to denounce your Slytherin traits?"
"No." I replied simply, giving a large smirk. "I want to erase Riddle and Black from my blood, become my own breed. I will have no anchors to my father or my mother. I keep my powers, but my father can't bind me to himself. It's not like he would want to either." I replied bitterly as an after thought, getting slightly irritated as the shadow from the manor came out of the light and moved toward us slowly.
"What are you asking me?" Snape asked, turning to see what caught my attention.
"Make the potion for me. I will take care of the rest. I am forbidden to leave these grounds." I started to move away from the potion's master.
"Then what will you do?" He asked after me softly, making his way to the apparition points.
"We'll talk once you get that potion for me." After that, I widened my stride and pulled my hood up.
Once I reached the small manor that housed my room and library and other creepy corridors, I turned to see if the figure followed me here, but saw no one.
--Slytherin--
It had been a week passed since I talked to my idol. There had been a few Death Eater meetings here and there, but that was it when it came to the Dark Lord. I haven't seen hide of him since that early morning, considering I haven't attended the meetings.
Here I was again, at the library at an unrealistic hour of the night. Damon and Bellatrix were either cooped up near Voldemort's door or getting their beauty rest. For the past week I have been cramming as much information as I can in my overloaded head. I had to be prepared for… well for something.
Would you believe me if I said I had no idea what I was going to do when Snape finished the potion? I was at loss.
I ignored the serpent that slithered passed the book I was reading. It was the same book I was studying, The Woos of Lady Death. I was sure I wanted to do this. After all, a Slytherin is second to no one. If – no, when - my brother got heir, I wasn't going to waste the rest of my life waiting for him to die.
"He's watching you." The serpent hissed at me from the corner of my book. I ignored him and shooed him away with my hand.
The annoying serpent hissed angrily and covered my reading material with his lard body. "I said he's watching you." The forked tongue came to my nose. "Again."
Irritation spread through me. "Leave me the bloody hell alone!" I shouldn't have snapped like that to my only ally in this manor, but I was into a crisis point of my book.
"Language." A voice hissed seductively from besides me.
There was that emotion again that shocked my chest to freeze in place. I snapped my head around to see a richly cloaked figure lounge in the arm chair a ways away from me.
Closing the book I stood up and made my way slowly over to the figure. Once the fright left my head, I knew it was my father. For unknown reasons, a blush came to my face as I fell to my knees and bowed my head.
Perhaps it was because I got caught talking in Parseltongue in front of him.
I felt oddly vulnerable before him. My cloak was in my room and all I had on was a simple black shirt on with ripped muggle jeans. To say it showed off my weak statue was an underestimate.
"My lord, I didn't know you were here." I answered truthfully, feeling overwhelmed with his magic soothing me.
"Of course you didn't." His voice was amused. "Just as you didn't for the past week."
Goosebumps went across my body at that statement. He was watching me all this time…
"I feel like a fool." I admitted more to myself than to him.
"Don't. If I wanted to be hidden, no one would know I was here. I chose to reveal myself to you tonight." I was utterly confused on why the man was here. And what he knew about what I've been doing… or even if he even knew me for heaven's sake.
"Rise, Harrison." His voice was oddly gentle, much different from his tone he takes at Death Eater meetings.
My head snapped up in the darkness, sure I heard him use my name. "You know me?"
He chuckled and snapped his fingers causing the room to alight with a few candles. I immediately threw my head down again in shame of my appearance. "Bellatrix has told me many things about you." He stood up from his chair and came in my direction.
This is it…. he was going to kill me for being his only 'Squib' son.
"Come, sit with me. We have much to discuss." I hesitated when I watched his feet move over to the couch and sit down. Taking a deep breath, I rose and made my way over to the offending furniture with my head down.
I sat down- mind you- far from him.
"She's told you?" I asked in a void voice. Of course she did, she must have had a field day with that.
"Look up at me." The voice was hard, commanding and I immediately followed that order.
My ugly green eyes met with his crimson ones. "She's told me countless of things about you, but I still don't know anything about you." A skeleton hand reached toward my chin and I reflexively reared back.
"About your green eyes and odd appearance." I watched an amused smirk appear on his face as he gazed at me with an emotion that I thought he would only reserve for Damon. Pleasure and desire. "I bet while she cursed your appearance, she never told you that I had the same green eyes when I was younger, or my dear mother had your color hair."
Voldemort knew I was starved for words of appreciation and he used it to his advance. I don't know why, but I felt this warmth sweep through me when I heard his declaration.
"You look strikingly like me when I was younger."
I felt slightly uncomfortable, despite the pride in my chest for looking like my father. It was if there was something he was holding back- bad information that he would soon break.
"I was under the impression you hated the memory of your mother." I replied bitterly, looking away from those sharp eyes.
"No." He paused. "I don't." His hand crept closer to me and I looked at it out of the corner of my eye. "But let's not talk of appearances- such a trivial thing. What I'm most interested in, is exactly why Bellatrix claimed you as a Squib when you are clearly casting spells well advanced for your age by night?"
I stood up, away from the hand and away from him. He wasn't what I imagined. He was too soft with me. I didn't like it one bit. "Don't pretend you care." I hissed at him angrily, glaring in the distance. "I know you; you have no desire to be a father or anything of the sort."
He didn't speak, but yet I could feel his amused eyes on me.
"You're supposed to be cruel and stone hearted." I whispered off the ending, hating this.
"You have no idea what I'm like, Harrison. You only know what Bellatrix has told you. And from experience, you should know that her word isn't always the truth." I knew he was right. "True, I am a cold-hearted bastard to others, but when it comes to my son I would like to be lenient with him."
I noticed he said 'son' and not 'sons'. It was such a small thing, but I noticed his slip.
He stood up, easily towering over me. What he did next made me replay this moment over and over again.
He grabbed my chin harshly and slammed me up against the wall. With his face bent toward my eye level, he hissed out at me. "If you even dare to try the Dark Descendant ritual, I'll cut off both your hands and kill Severus. Do you understand me?"
Of course he would know what's happening at his own manor, but still, I was shocked at hearing it come out of his mouth.
"Yes…"
With that, he let go of my face and swept away from the room. I let a smirk make its way on my face at seeing my father act like a true Slytherin.
--Slytherin--
I was minding my own business, really- that's all I do most the time- when my father came striding into my small room. He took one look around the room and motioned me with a skeletal hand. "Come, I want you to move your bedroom over to my main manor." I sat on my bed, reading The Woos of Lady Death, mind you, and slammed it shut.
"Contrary to popular belief, I enjoy my bedroom. It's private." I think he would know exactly what I met when I said 'private' but it appeared he would have none of it. I watched him turn his heel and sweep out of the room like the drama king he was.
I wasn't going to follow. There was no way in hell I would leave my sanctuary and-
"Come." I was pulled off my bed by an invisible force around my neck. It was if a collar was latched around my throat- like a dog being lead by his master.
I was dragged literally across the floor with my book clutched in my grasp and my only black cloak ripping on the corner of a loose floorboard. It was only last night that my father and I talked- he didn't take long to come gather me from my safe haven and bring me to the pit of hell with my mother and brother.
"Get up." Voldemort hissed, yanking his wand upward; thus causing me to get on my knees while my hands hugged the ritual book closer.
"I don't want to go." I hissed through my bared teeth at the man. He looked different today… much more of a Dark Lord than last night. No amusement was present in those crimson eyes. Maybe he had to bear the presence of Damon and Bellatrix all morning.
"Come, my pet." He purred, yanking me hard this time, causing my book to fly out of my arms and at his feet.
As I watched him look at the book and point his 'leash' at it, my anger soared. After fourteen years I haven't had this much rage in my life. I knew my eyes were glowing- they always do when I feel my magic go out of control- and my hands flew out in front of me in a desperate gesture. Three things happened at once; the invisible collar was gone, my book came flying back into my hands, and my father stumbled backwards. I honestly didn't mean for the last one to happen… it just sort of did.
My breathing came out ragged and my bronze bangs fell in my eyes. Voldemort was emotionless, staring at me with his crimson eyes. Although I could easily sense the excitement flittering around him, he took an advanced step forward and clutched my shoulders.
"Squib… I'm sure you bloody well are." He whispered, walking away again. This time he didn't use his wand as a leash. "Come with me, Harrison. Now." It wasn't fun and games anymore, he meant it.
Being the weak child that I was, I followed him. Well- with his magic threatening me I accepted submissively. "Why am I moving?" I asked him as he motioned for the house elf to move my things.
He turned his cool stare on me and cocked his head to the side. "Multiple of reasons; one, you are my son- you deserve a nicer room than this, two, I get rather tired of crossing the grounds just to check up on you, and three, I want you to be close when I chose the heir."
"You mean Damon." I replied bitterly, squeezing the book I was carrying.
"Who ever says I can't choose you?" I didn't respond, or look at him. After all, I knew Damon was his chosen one. He just wanted me as a bloody slave and the descendant to pass down the heritage. My finger unconsciously caressed the book I was carrying; I was somewhat surprised Voldemort hadn't taken it away yet.
Maybe that was a sign. He didn't care if I used the ritual- if he did, he would've burned it to the crisp. Fortunately I memorized everything about the ritual, and intended to use at as soon as Snape gathered his balls and gave me the potion.
"Pull your hood up." He motioned his hand lazily at me, while continuing on his abnormally fast pace. I saw Death Eater's scattered around the manor while bowing as the Dark Lord passed, I felt invisible to them- not one of them glanced in my direction. I was the indiscernible heir.
Disappointment clutched at my chest as I pulled my hood up-
Reasoning?
I didn't know.
--Slytherin--
My father left me as soon as he disposed me in my 'new room'. It was hideously large. I sneered at the rich material placed handsomely around the room and the mission furniture glossed in black. I hated it. I wished I was back in my small room with my cracked bed frame and crocked nightstand. And better yet? It was the farthest room from civilization. I should feel happy about that fact but it just proved my father wanted me invisible.
Damon's room was paces away from the entrance hallway, as was Bellatrix's. Just so he could show his perfect heir off.
I made a sickened noise in my throat as I dropped my book on the richly stitched bed sheets. Why did I even care? It was almost if I… wanted his attention, almost if I needed to see he actually thought me worthy. Never once did I feel this way with Bellatrix or Damon. I always cared for myself and kept private.
So why was my father so different?
Because he reminds me of myself. Because I want to impress him.
Angrily running a hand through my already messy hair, I paced the long length of the room. I really didn't need a father figure in my life… even if a few days ago I admitted to myself I wanted the feeling of acceptance from anyone. I shouldn't waste my time trying to impress someone who is already blinded by someone else.
My eyes roamed over to the book lying on the bed. I will do the ritual, and when I'm finished I can finally move on with my life.
Movement caught my eye and I turned to see myself in a large mirror. I sneered at it. I hated my reflection. His words whispered in the back of my head. "You look strikingly like me when I was younger." Oh, I longed to hear that from him when I was little. I dreamed of my father coming back and taking me away from the hell I grew up with. I wanted to look up to him as my idol- my hero while he looked at me like I belonged by his side…. the same way he looks at Damon.
I watched as my sneer turned into a wicked smile. Pulling back my hand, I made a slashing movement and wandlessly shattered the mirror. Even if I was a safe distance away, pieces of glass pierced my skin. My cold green eyes watched as my dark, crimson, blood swelled out of the cut and overfilled. A gentle rhythm sounded throughout the room as tiny droplets hit the wood floor.
I loved that sound…
--Slytherin--
I felt his cold eyes on me as I sat unwillingly down at the table. Voldemort ordered me to come to the dinning room for dinner and I was so happy to see Damon and my loving mother there as well. Merlin… this is a happy family get together. What the bloody hell… I just feel happy.
Like hell I did. I felt like killing myself. After the incident with the mirror earlier today, I got this odd notion in my head that if the ritual failed to work I would like to take my own life. It's not a very Slytherin thing to do, but it felt oddly good to feel something other than a void emotion within me. I felt pain, and it felt wonderful. I don't know why I haven't tried hurting myself earlier, maybe it's because I was already facing Damon's and Bellatrix's emotional abuse.
Voldemort didn't look too happy with me, I don't know why, but I really didn't care anymore. Perhaps it's because he told me to wear those ridiculously dressy cloaks in my closest and I chose to wear my worn black cloak with frayed edges. Why not wear this? It didn't stink. In fact, it never stunk, so I don't understand why…
My rambling thoughts are interrupted by more bodies entering the room. I bit my tongue as hard as I could when I realized it was Severus, Lucius and Draco Malfoy, along with Peter Pettigrew. What a crowd. How bloody exciting. My eyes fasten over to Voldemort as I see him giving one of his small smirks. He's up to something, and I don't like not knowing what it was. In fact… my eyes go toward Damon who follows his father's act and gives his own smirk.
Oh-
This should be exciting.
I immediately notice the seating. Bellatrix was glowing at Voldemort's left hand side while Damon was placed proudly by his right side. Lucius Malfoy was sitting on Damon's right while his bloody poof of a son was sitting on his right. On Bellatrix's right sat Snape and I was lucky enough to sit to the right of Wormtail.
My chest hurt from trying not to give a bitter laugh. Well- my father surely showed me who was of higher place. And everyone here knew it. If the amused looks I was receiving wasn't enough, it was Pettigrew's awful smell. Why did I even bother to place a cleaning charm on my cloak?
Voldemort stood up. I refused to call him my father anymore, reasons being avoided at the moment since I didn't want to get all emotional. But that's right. I don't feel any emotion beside the occasional pain and loneliness.
"Thank you for coming, Lucius, Severus, Draco, and Peter." He gave a respectful nod to his faithful followers.
I gagged in my mouth. Was it possible to accidentally swallow your tongue? I guess it isn't unless it's morbidly cut from its attachments. Briefly I wondered what those attachments were called. Tongue strings? No, I knew what they were called- extrinsic muscles… I remember because a potion required three for ingredients. When I become my own Dark Lord I will experiment with that, cut off my victims extrinsic tongue muscles and watch them swallow their tongue whole.
A smirk came to my face. Maybe I can try it on Bellatrix. The bitch will serve better purposes if she didn't have a tongue to grace us all with her mocking voice. Egh. I look over her way and lock eyes with Snape. The man was emotionless but a light probe to my head made me realize he was trying to tell me something.
But I couldn't bring down my Occlumency shields. I look away from him- not really listening to Voldemort's speech. Instead I looked away into the distance with my eyes unfocused. Sometimes I can get away from my body and let myself drift off into the void of no where. It's the most peaceful place in my existence.
I know as a Slytherin I should be studying everyone sitting near me for any mishaps or mistakes they make that would result in treachery. But I really didn't care at the moment. My focus was all on the Dark Descendant ritual. I actually felt a spark of excitement for trying it. If only the bloody potion's master would hurry up with the potion and ignore Voldemort's warning. Didn't the man see the Dark Lord wouldn't care?
"And so I wish to congratulate Damon as my Dark Heir." I came back into this world and never moved an inch of my face. I knew this was going to happen, but I still felt a sharp stab go through my stomach. All my life I was second. I always craved for my father to sweep me away and give me what I deserved.
Enough self-pity.
I will get my revenge. I'm still young, only fourteen, but I know I can pull it off.
Maybe…
My eyes swivel toward Snape. Maybe Snape could fill my empty void. I know the man is very private and unemotional man, but so is my… so is Voldemort.
Speaking of the Dark Lord, I can feel his eyes bore into me. I never gave him the pleasure of meeting his gaze. Instead I clapped lightly with the rest of the occupants of the room. I saw Draco give a laugh and a un-Malfoy holler. Lucius nudged him and I felt envy for such a small thing. Even that family had a relationship.
Bellatrix was had her crazed smile on her face and she…. winked at me. I saw red.
"When is the food here?" A voice whispered interrupted my anger in my ear and I turn to see Pettigrew's yellow teeth in my face. The man really did look like a rat, but despite everything, I cracked a smirk.
"I don't know, but I am rather hungry." Peter snickered at me, even when I wasn't trying to be funny, and played with his fork and spoon.
The crowd further down the table was talking happily to Damon and congratulating him. Bellatrix was making a rather rude remark about the strong blood in Slytherin and how it would be devastating if she only had me. I ignored her and watched my sickening reflection in the spoon. My eyes were too green… those were the first to go when the ritual was over.
I glared at myself- willing my repulsive eyes away. My hand tightened on the spoon in shock when I saw a change in reflection. I blinked and blinked again. They were yellow, not green. I allowed myself I small smile. Next to my hair, hopefully I would have dark red, I always desired dark red, but I couldn't now. Not in front of everyone. I had to pretend I was a Squib still for the element of surprise later on.
I jumped slightly when food magically popped in front of me. Draco gave a smirk in my direction and leaned behind his father to whisper something in Damon's ear.
My fraternal twin gave a chuckle. "Worthless Squib."
I really should work on my temper. Really… I should, considering that is another trait I inherited from Voldemort. But I lost it then. I looked at Damon from underneath my bronze bangs as he arrogantly slipped a piece of red steak into his mouth. That smirk on his face didn't belong there- the way he chewed that steak even looked repulsing.
My sneer turned into a smirk as Damon's black eyes widened and the Slytherin heir dropped his fork with a large clatter. I know I shouldn't have lost my temper- but my magic amused me by choking the brat. Damon's hands went to his throat, a universal sign for choking, and he gave a dry heave.
"Oh my!" Bellatrix stood up and hurried over to her precious son's side. She urgently patted his back while Lucius took out his wand and spelled away the steak in his throat. But that wouldn't help, he wasn't choking on his food, I was squeezing his air pipe. He continued to shake and his lips were turning white. Lucius tried another spell, but nothing came up.
An angry hissing from Voldemort ruined my concentration, and I released the hold on Damon. I quickly gave a fleeting look at the Dark Lord, but before I could distinguish any emotions, I quickly looked away at my plate. When the shock wore down from the Slytherin heir choking, I gave a smile.
"Worthless…" I purred, grabbing my wine glass. "The Dark heir can't even chew his food." I took a drink from the rich liquid and looked over the rim at Damon for good measure.
I know I'm a tease…
His cheeks turned red and before he could retort, Voldemort gave a warning tisk. "Enough."
I turned my eyes toward Snape and saw the man smirking slightly at the whole situation. Our eyes met and I smiled- a real one. Bellatrix tapped him on the shoulder and engaged him in a quiet conversation. Out of curiosity I looked over to Voldemort to see the Dark Lord gaze at Severus with an emotion I wasn't exactly sure on.
It looked like jealously or some sort of possessiveness.
Impossible, the Dark Lord never showed emotions- especially those emotions.
Curious though…
"Are you going to eat those?" Pettigrew asked with his mouth full, pointing his fork at my two potatoes.
I gazed at him, watching as his mouth moved the same way a rat nibbled on food. "No, go for it." It always amused me how something so simple can make someone happy.
Just like something as small as an embrace would make my life turn upside down.
--Slytherin--
"Meet me out in the graveyard tonight." Snape murmured to me at the after dinner lounge.
You're probably wondering what the after dinner lounge is… its simply where the guests all go into the lounge and have more wine than they can handle. Including me… I get whatever I want considering no one even really sees me.
Voldemort was sitting, or rather lounging arrogantly, on a small chair in the corner. Everyone just seemed to flock around him. I wonder how he can handle that- or is it just a show? Really, it doesn't matter. Only Snape and I were away from the crowd, I was sitting down on a black leather couch while Snape leaned on the back of it. Of course, Peter Pettigrew was away from the crowd too- eating the little finger foods off the silver platter.
Snape moved from the back of my sitting area and made his way over by Pettigrew to pick up a cube of cheese. I waited, picking at my fingernails- trying to act nonchalant as I stood up and followed my Slytherin idol over to the finger food platter. I hurriedly grabbed the last cube of cheese before Pettigrew, making him sulk and go farther down the buffet line.
"You're risking a lot, Snape. Are you sure?" I knew he was talking about the ritual tonight, what else would he be meeting me for?
"I told you I would help you, I never go back on my word." His mouth barely moved- but I stared outright at him. No one had ever done anything for me. And here he was, going against the Dark Lord's order and helping me. I hated that I felt that warmth in my chest after his statement.
"Thank you." I mumbled, looking at the toothpick in my hands.
"Eleven thirty." He whispered- his face was looking away from me as he picked up a piece of cubed meat.
"Drinks?" A high pitched voice squeaked from behind Snape and me. I turned and saw a house elf carry a tray of alcoholic drinks. My eyes lit up as I reached for the biggest glass I could find. I needed it for what I was going to go through tonight.
A hand grasped my wrist, halting my movements. I looked up, thinking it Snape, but was taken back when Voldemort stood in front of me. "I think you had enough for tonight, go to bed." He ruffled my feathers as I reared away from him. I could feel his cold hand on my chin, jerking my face closer to his. "Change those hideous eyes."
"Get your hands off me." I hissed in Parseltongue, making sure no one heard me but him. "You're not my father, nor my Lord."
With that, I made a dramatic exit, making sure my cloak was blowing up behind me like I'd seen Snape's do on countless of occasions. Excitement was running ecstatic all around me, and I'm sure Voldemort noticed my aura.
Who gave a damn? The man would hopefully be at the end of my wand- feeling what I felt my whole bloody life.
--Slytherin--
It was time. I hadn't even sat down since Voldemort dismissed me in the lounge. I glanced at the book sitting so innocently on my bed and grabbed it. I threw my hood up and smirked at my blood stain on the floor. Everything would go perfect. I could finish off Damon from the point I was interrupted- and cut off Bellatrix's tongue. I don't know yet what I'd do to Voldemort, but I think it will be awhile before I can face the man equally.
I opened my door a fraction and slipped out. I could tell no one was out there, but then again, I couldn't tell Voldemort was watching me for a week while I was studying. One good trait I have is my grace. I am a graceful person and my feet barely make a sound when they hit the floor.
It took awhile for me to get out the door, but it happened. I'm not stupid- I know I have to hurry if I want to do this without Voldemort knowing. Oh- I forgot to tell you my latest theory on why Voldemort wants to keep me around. He wants to somehow convert my powers to Damon- including Parseltongue. Like I would really let that happen.
The wind was barely existent when I ran down the deep steps toward the graveyard but my cloak was waving gently behind me. I had a smile on my face like that of a rebellious teenager. Although this was much more serious than what muggle teens do to their parents- I was going to get rid of mine.
I saw a figure behind a tombstone motion me over to him. It wasn't that dark out with the almost full moon out- making everything glow ethereal silver. My eyes locked with his and I gave a nod. "Do you have to potion?" My hand went out, only to feel the cool glass of a potion's vial being pressed into my skin.
"Of course- and you know how to proceed?" He was wearing a hood, but I noticed his eyes were shifty. Ah, he was nervous for Voldemort to come out.
"Yes, will you take me somewhere safe when I'm out cold?" I asked him like a vulnerable child would do to his father. I am such a starved little boy…
"Yes." Those dark eyes locked with mine, and I gave a nod.
I ran over to Thomas and Tom Riddle's grave, easily raising a bone from their casket. I pulled out a vial with Bellatrix's hair in it and gave a chuckle. This was too easy. I would finally be free…
My hands were shaking as I kneeled down on the patchy grass with a piece of white, powdery, chalk. I didn't even need to look at the book that was lying on the side lines. I knew everything by heart now. My breathing was heard as I drew the points of the star and the circle within it. I scattered the little Latin characters around the points and threw the chalk when I was finished. Snape was standing awkwardly against a concrete angel, watching me in fascination.
I dug into the bag I carried out here and hurriedly put a green, silver, black, white, and scarlet candle on each point of the star. I ran my index finger and thumb finger on the wicks and they immediately burned. I grabbed the potion vial along with the hair and bone and sat crossed legged in the circle.
With sure fingers, I crushed a piece of Riddle's bone and placed it in the potion, along with the nasty hair of the woman who gave birth to me. I swirled it around for a short period of time- holding it over one of the flames from the candle. When it bubbled I pricked my finger and put three drops of blood into the potion- no more, no less. My eyes lightened with anticipation when the potion started to steam from the open top.
"It's time." I said unnecessarily to Snape- who had now kneeled down outside the ruin.
"Good luck, My Lord." He whispered, eyes dancing with the reflection from the flames.
I gave him a crocked smile and took a deep breath. Here was the time… I would be free and ready to live my own life- without anyone holding me back. Without being second to anyone…
I tipped my head back and drank the potion.
Lord Voldemort gave a roar and ran toward me.
As I drank the potion, I could feel the veins in my arms turn cold- almost freezing. I gagged as I threw down the empty vial and my body was shaking uncontrollably. But I couldn't black out now. I needed to do the incardination.
I could see the Dark Lord running over to us, and Snape standing up to run. I felt brief betrayal as he turned to leave. But I was too far under to really comprehend what was happening. "I ask from the Descendants from below to grant me my wish… my wish to denounce my heritage."
A spell flew past me- and I heard a body hit the floor. "I denounce my unworthy parents…. I denounce…." I gagged again on the after affects of the potion. The candles around me started to flicker and wind that was never present before started to gust around me- almost eagerly.
"I denounce thee mother, Bellatrix Druella Black." Pain that I've never felt before crackled through me and I cried out. Just as I leaned forward in pain, a curse whizzed right over my head.
As I lay there… I looked up into his eyes. "I denounce thee father…" I spat out angrily, enjoying his eyes widen. Finally I was getting the attention I always desired.
"Stupefy." His bone white wand pointed directly in between my eyes, and hit me right there before I could finish what I started.
Looking back, I knew I should've warded against spells. But then again- when I look back a second time, maybe I was hoping he would come before I completed the ritual.
And he did.
--Slytherin--
I don't really know where I am at the moment. All I know is that I'm wet. I think its water, but I think its sweat too. Maybe it's blood or something of the other. I also know I'm shaking uncontrollably- almost falling off the soft mattress I'm lying on. Cold hands feel really good against my hot skin, they're trying to hold me down to no success.
I hear something… it sounds like a squeaking door hinge, but then I realize it matches the rapid pace of my breath. It's me. My eyes try to open- and maybe they did. All I see is black.
"My child." A voice murmurs in distress from above me, it's the owner of the cold, soothing hands.
I scream.
--Slytherin--
Really- I don't know how long I've been out, but I have better knowledge than I did when I was last awake. I have a fever, I know that for certain, and my body is glazed with sweat. The hands that were stroking me were Voldemort's, and I was having some sort of relapse from the ritual I did… maybe from not completing it.Or did I complete it?
I also knew I was dying. I could feel the life force dim within me. Don't think I'm not telling you the truth just to make my condition more dramatic… remember I said I'm always right? I said Damon would be named heir, and he was. So that means I really am dying.
Sometimes I catch myself calling out to random people. The more I focus, the more I realize I'm calling out for Snape. That was the first week when I was bed-ridden. After I called the man's name out, no one would come to me. A cruel voice would always say he is no longer alive, so I scream out again and thrash uncontrollably.
But after a week, I start to call for my father. Instead of being ignored when I called for Snape, I was always rewarded with either a hand on my forehead, or someone holding my hand. Soft endearments followed the caresses and I melted underneath them.
I realized when I got better that Voldemort never left my side. Ever.
--Slytherin--
I opened my eyes slightly, and closed them again in fatigue. I was so tired…. and yet, I think I've been sleeping for a month now. "You're awake." A voice murmured from beside my bed. I looked to the side and was greeted with the site of my father sitting on a chair with his legs crossed and elbow resting on his knee- resting his chin on his hand.
I thought he looked ugly when he was reborn- he looked absolutely trollish now. Dark bags underneath his dim crimson eyes… he just looked horrid.
I remembered the events that had transpired before this moment, and sighed- turning my head away from him. "Look at me." His voice growled and I was forced submissively to look at him. "You are in trouble, you foolish boy." I flinched away from him, and yet I knew my face stayed passive.
"Why did you stop me?" I asked, and wasn't surprised when my voice came out hoarse from all the screaming I'd done. "Why? Why did you choose him and not me? Why did you keep me around?"
I watched as he remained blank. "You don't know what you almost did." He ignored my questions entirely.
What? Almost? "You mean… I didn't succeed?" This couldn't happen, I was so close.
"No you foolish boy!" He stood up and angrily slammed his fist on my nightstand. "You succeeded in having no mother, but you still have me." He replied mockingly. "Look at you- thinking you could complete a ritual at the age of fourteen. You could have died have I not saved you."
I tried to sit up, but failed. So I gave him my best glare. "Saved me? Like hell you saved me. I would've been better off without a mother and a father."
I blinked when I watched Voldemort collapse on his chair with his face in his hands. "How can you not see you are my heir?"
"What? You named Damon-,"
"I should've told you before hand- but I was afraid you would open your mouth." His face came up and I couldn't see any emotion. "I knew you were my chosen as soon as I saw you. Your aura sang to me, your charisma was Slytherin, you even looked like me. He was no heir, Harrison. The other boy was a set-up. I named him heir at that dinner because I knew I had a spy within one of my inner circle. By announcing my heir, I set him up as the next target; I would be able to narrow my suspicions. You see- if I named my real heir, I would be putting him in danger, I would never want that."
I realized how stupid I was. It made sense, a little surreal, but it fit perfectly.
"Is Damon…?"
"He was poisoned to death." He announced it like a weatherman would announce the weather. "I had thought the traitor was between two groups of inner circles. I had one dinner and announced it at that time. It turns out the traitor was indeed among us that night- working for Dumbledore."
I sucked in a breath and looked away from him. "Peter Pettigrew?" I asked.
"Yes."
It didn't make all that much sense… "But… couldn't you have slipped Truth Serum into their drinks that night and questioned them? Or tortured them? Or anything other than… that?"
A smirk flew on the man's lips and goosebumps appeared on my arms. "I needed a good excuse to kill him off."
"Kill Pettigrew off?"
"No- your 'brother'."
I must've looked at him oddly. "You were going to be my heir, Harrison. I knew you two didn't get along, and I don't care for anyone in the way of my heir. I as good as well killed him." He paused and looked at me with a dark sparkle. "I know what you went through growing up, my past was similar, and I wanted to make it better for you. You deserve this- you are my son, my true son. And I always protect what I desire…"
I knew he would've said 'love' instead of desire, but I know Voldemort is incapable for love. I understood the man perfectly now. He saw himself in me, and would try his damnest to give me what he never received while growing up. With him I would have a father, and he would have someone to stand by him- to finally understand him.
--Slytherin--
I stood in front of the mirror, finally accepting my appearance. I looked different since the night of the ritual- considering I lost every trace I had of Bellatrix. I was taller now- but still very slim. My hair was still that same bronze color and my eyes were greener than usual. My cheekbones and Adams apple was sill pronounced, but my face seemed more… sharper. My eyebrows were thinner and my hands were very long and thin.
I looked like a pure Riddle.
I allowed my smirk to appear on my face. I was Slytherin; I was my father's heir.
I had my father's Horcrux around my neck- the Slytherin locket- and one of the family heirloom's rings on my finger. My robes were richly green and black with a small trim of silver. If you hadn't noticed yet- I was dressed up. Much more than my black cloak I still have. The reason I was dressed up?
Today was my initiation of the Dark Heir of Slytherin.
Too bad Snape and Bellatrix wouldn't be there. Snape was killed the night of the ritual- purely out of jealousy for being close to me and anger on Voldemort's half. I wasn't too happy with my father when I learned that, so I repaid him by killing off Bellatrix. Her tongue was no where to be found when they found her lifeless body outside. It irked me that my father was amused with me rather than angry.
So here I was- being all nervous about the whole thing. I shouldn't be, I always wanted this to happen, especially to rub it in the Malfoy's faces. Apart of me wanted Damon to be here still just so he could see how things turned out.
A hand placed itself on my shoulder and I looked at my father's gaze in the mirror. "You're not nervous are you?" He asked mockingly.
"Of course not, father." My heart clenched ridiculously at saying 'father'. I should ask my father to make me a Horcrux- at least some emotion would be gone by then.
But as I looked at the hand that squeezed itself on my shoulder- I knew this was like an embrace to both he and I. My life finally turned over.
I knew that together, we would be unstoppable.