Chapter Text
The Minister’s office was dead quiet after Tom Riddle had immediately locked the door. Outside, everyone thought he was the most powerful man in the world. Inside, he felt like he was losing his grip for what he truly is.
He sat at his big desk and looked down at a small piece of moving paper. It was a magical sonogram.
He wasn't supposed to be able to get pregnant. He had spent years using charms and potions to hide the fact that he was an Omega. Everyone at the Ministry thought he was a strong Alpha who couldn't be controlled. He had worked too hard for this. He had lied to everyone to get to the top.
Now, a tiny, pulsing heart inside his womb changed everything.
Tom touched his stomach. It felt the same as always, but he knew it wasn't. This was a secret that could ruin him. If his enemies found out, they would use it to take his power. If the father found out, things would get even more complicated.
A loud knock hit the door.
"Minister?" his assistant called out. "The meeting is starting. Everyone is waiting for you."
Tom couldn't move. He looked at the sonogram, then at the fireplace. He could throw the paper into the flames right now and pretend he never saw it. He could go out there and keep being the cold, perfect leader everyone feared.
"Minister? Are you there?"
Tom closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he immediately folded the sonogram and hid it deep inside his robes.
"I’m coming." he called out.
He stood up and walked towards the door. He had to decide what to do next and who was going to pay for this.
ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚
The meeting felt like it lasted for years. Tom sat at the head of the long table, nodding and signing papers while his mind was miles away.
And as soon as the last person left, he retreated back to his office and leaned against the door.
He pulled the sonogram out again. The healers said he was exactly eight weeks along.
Two months.
He did the math in his head, tracing back to that date. Two months ago was the Ministry’s annual masquerade ball.
It was the only night of the year he had allowed himself to relax.
He remembered the music, the expensive wine, and the heavy scent of multiple alphas in the ballroom.
He remembered drinking more than he should have had, which is one of his biggest mistake. Because he had always played the part of a powerful Alpha, he hadn't worried about the risks that came with being an Omega.
He thought his suppression potions were enough.
But the alcohol triggered his heat.
The memories were a blurry mess. All he could recall was a pair of strong hands on his waist.
He remembered the feeling of being led into a darkened balcony, away from the crowd.
He remembered a flowery scent of the alpha who mated with him that night, but he can't remember the face.
Eventually, he had woken up the next morning in his own bed, alone and sore, assuming he had just had a forgettable encounter.
And he eventually got too busy with work to even care about it anymore.
But now, that one night was threatening to tear his life apart.
The father could be anyone. It could be a rival politician trying to trap him. It could be a young Auror. It could even be one of his own supporters.
If word got out that the Minister was an Omega, carrying a child and didn't even know who the father was, his reputation would be dead within an hour.
Omegas are seen as weak and fragile.
Something that Tom Riddle refused to be.
ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚
Tom gripped the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white.
Its been days and he still hasn't gotten a clue on who the baby daddy might be.
He needed a name, a face, or maybe just a tiny little hint.
He was the most powerful wizard in the country, yet he was completely blind to his own life.
"Who was it?" he hissed to himself. "Why can't I remember?"
As if the room itself was answering his anger, the green flames in his fireplace began to act strangely.
The familiar emerald fire sputtered and turned gold. It was probably a type of magic Tom had never seen before.
And with a sudden whoosh, a figure tumbled out of the golden flames and landed on the expensive rug.
Tom had his wand out in a second. But he froze when he saw who it was.
It was a little boy.
A child who has long messy red hair and bright, green eyes.
He wore high-quality and expensive looking wizarding robes that looked slightly too big for him, and he was currently dusting soot off his pants as if falling through a golden fireplace was a normal afternoon activity for the little one.
"Who are you?" Tom demanded, his voice was sharp and guarded. "How did you get past my wards?" He asked.
The boy didn't look scared.
Instead, he looked around the office with a curious expression, finally letting his gaze rest on Tom.
A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You look younger than the pictures." the boy said. His voice was high and adorable.
Tom stepped closer, keeping his wand pointed at the child’s face. "Answer me. Give me your name and your purpose on why you are here... Now." He demanded.
"I'm Zyrell...!!" the boy chirped, completely ignoring the dangerous wand tip pointed at him. He seems to be used to it as well. "Also, you don't need to be so grumpy, Papa. Well... young Papa."
Tom’s eye twitched. "Do not call me that." He hissed, dangerously. "And explain how you are here before I have the Aurors throw you into a cell." He warned.
Meanwhile, Zyrell beamed a bright, toothy grin at him. "You sent me! Well, not you-you. The you from later. Future Voldemort!" The little boy giggled. "He said you need my help to find my other daddy."
Tom felt the air leave his lungs. Future Voldemort? The name alone was a shock, but the idea of his future self sending a child back in time via a mysterious golden fireplace was even more absurd.
"You expect me to believe," Tom said, his voice flat and he deadpanned. "that I, in the future, decided the best way to handle a private matter was to send a five year old through time?"
"Yup...!!" Zyrell nodded enthusiastically, his red hair bouncing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate frog, offering a piece to Tom, who refused to accept it. "He said you would be stubborn and probably try to hex me. He also said to tell you that....."
Zyrell stopped for a moment before continuing in parseltongue. "The snake doesn't eat its own tail unless it's very hungry. Does that mean something? It sounds kind of silly."
Tom froze. That was a phrase he had written in his private journal only five nights ago. No one else could possibly know it. Plus, the boy spoke in the language of snakes. A skill that only a Slytherin heir can have.
Tom lowered his wand slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was tired, he was confused, and his morning sickness was starting to kick in.
"Fine," Tom muttered, looking defeated. "I'll play along for now. If you truly are from the future, then you surely know who the father is. Now, tell me."
Zyrell’s face lit up, and he opened his mouth to speak. "Oh...!! It’s..."
But instead of a name, a stream of bright, shimmering bubbles floated out of his mouth.
Zyrell blinked, looking confused, and tried again. "My daddy's name is..."
Pop. Pop. Pop.
More bubbles drifted toward the ceiling, smelling faintly of flowers.
"It’s no use," Zyrell said, his voice sounding clear again once he stopped trying to say the name. He looked up at the ceiling with a pout. "Mother Time is being a meanie. If I just tell you, the timeline will go kaboom." He explained.
Tom watched a bubble land on his desk and vanish. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache forming. "Wonderful. A time traveling child who speaks in soap suds. This is exactly how I imagined my afternoon going."
He glanced at the enchanted clock on the wall. It was nearly noon. Despite the shock of the sonogram and the strange boy, Tom realized his stomach was growling, which is a side effect of his current condition that he was still trying to get used to.
"Enough with the bubbles for now," Tom said, standing up and smoothing his robes. "It’s lunch time. If you’re staying here, you’re going to eat. I can’t have my future son fainting from hunger in my office."
Zyrell smiled and clapped his hands. "Ooohh, what are we having?"
"Something healthy." Tom answered, while the little boy pouted.