Chapter Text
Prologue
1967, October 30th
10.26pm
“I’m sorry my love, I’ll be back within the hour.” The man promised, his faithful eyes trying to pass a shimmer of hope to his wife.
“It’s okay, I believe you.” She said, her eyes glistening with whispers of pain.
“Mungo’s will take care of you, just stay here and I’ll make sure the healers comply with your every wish.” He said, trying to reassure her.
She chuckled grimly, the water never leaving her eyes. “I’m sure the healers do that with everyone.” She said, “I’m not that special.”
“You’re more than special. You’re my everything. And I’m working hard to make our future together extra special.”
“I know, I know.” She smiled, “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” She brought the rock of a diamond on her hand up to the light, watching the light rays reflect in all directions, as if to mimic a constellation. Then, the very same hand gently went over her bump, anticipating a strong kick from the baby who was mere hours away from being welcomed into their magical family.
“See you soon Love.” he said, proud of himself for having the most beautiful wife and feeling so privileged to be able to bring a baby into their world soon enough.
10.30pm
With a loud crack, Tom Riddle welcomed himself into the near-empty Ministry of Magic, there for one reason and one only. He didn’t have time to let himself get sidetracked, every moment was crucial and his wife needed him.
The people were familiar with him there, he had slowly been building himself a reputation over the past two decades. Ever since being rejected from filling the defence against the dark arts position at Hogwarts, he had set his sights on bigger things and realised that Hogwarts wasn’t nearly worth his time.
He slithered through a dark corridor, and another, and another. Until finally, he had reached the room he had needed. A last minute appointment he had managed to land had led him here, to the office of a man he wasn’t entirely sure he could trust, but really what other choice did he have.
“Mr Riddle?” a hoarse voice called out. The room was dark, only lit by a few lone candles and inside sat a rangy old man, his wrinkles exaggerated by the candlelight he sat next to. His golden glasses sat at the end of his pointed nose, and his freakishly neat desk only showed one document - the paper that Tom Riddle had come looking for.
“Mr Gorman” he smiled politely, pulling his coat off as he sat down next to the man.
“Now now, I’d rather this be done quickly so do forgive me if I seem hasty.” He said. He cleared his throat, bringing the paper closer to the light and to Tom Riddle as he offered a pen, and wordlessly pointed at the necessary signatures needed.
“And just to confirm, no one will remember?” He asked, skimming through the terms and conditions.
“No one except I will remember.” He said, sighing as he irritatedly looked down at the paper which still lacked the needed signatures.
“Just confirming” Tom grinned, the silence afterwards being filled with only the scratching of pen and the occasional crackle of the fire. “Is all done?” he asked, sliding the paper back to the impatient man.
“Brilliant” he said, although his monotone voice begged to differ that he felt “brilliant”. The man quickly signed his name off at the end, then stamped a magical seal before hurriedly filing it to a cabinet below his desk.
“Now Mr Riddle- or should I call you Mr Gaunt? I’ve received the first half of your payment but I hadn’t received the second? Was there an issue or-?” He began to question.
“No, no. No issue.” Tom Gaunt said, reaching into the deep pockets of his expensive coat before dumping a small sack onto the desk with a thump. “It’s charmed. More in there than it looks.”
The man’s face melted in relief as he snatched the sack away. “Perfect. Well then, goodnight Mr Gaunt. I wish you and your new life well.” he said, shaking the man's strong hand.
“Goodnight Mr Gorman.” Tom smiled, satisfied.
Although expensive and troublesome, Tom Riddle had just paid a hefty sum and used his powerful connections to change his name from Riddle to Gaunt, paying the price to bury his mudblood heritage.
It wasn’t fair, Tom was gifted, even more so than many of the purebloods he knew. But no, he had been cursed with a muggle father thanks to his stupid mother. But now, Mr Gorman had just helped him change that and would now only be remembered as Tom Gaunt, heir to the opulent and dignified house of Gaunt.
He had done this not only for his future, but for the future of the Gaunt line. The Gaunt’s had all died ugly, inbred, and dirt poor, but he was here to change that legacy. He was doing his pureblood ancestors a favour, changing their reputation and covering their history so they could rise and be respected amongst the sacred twenty-eight once again.
With a quick check of his surroundings, Tom Gaunt apparated away with a loud crack, arriving in front of St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries once again.
He rushed inside, checking his Gaunt heirloom watch, the hands displaying quarter to eleven. He prayed he wouldn’t be late, he couldn’t be late, but who knew how fast witch births were. He had only known muggle births growing up, and he was almost sure that they had to be different.
He walked into the room he was in almost twenty minutes ago and sighed in relief as he saw a pair of healers questioning his wife. Her belly still round with life, he changed his face to a look of comfort as he approached his lover, hands outstretched to welcome a hug.
“Tommy, you made it!” she said, face washing over with relief.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
1967, October 31st
1.07am
After a better than expected hour of labour, Tom Gaunt and Amorette Gaunt welcomed baby Marvolo Alexandre Gaunt into this world. No child had been greeted with a more loving set of parents, and Tom couldn’t help but beam with pride when he saw his firstborn son, the true heir to the new leg of the Gaunt family. Tom had great plans for the wizarding world, and one day his son, Marvolo, would inherit it all, and Tom swore to make sure he was ready for that day. His son would be raised to be his pride and joy, and Tom felt reassured knowing that his faithful wife would be there by his side for every second of it.
But for now, he cherished this moment. The start to his new family, and although he couldn’t admit it to Amorette yet after all the trouble she went through, he couldn’t wait to expand it with her. More sons, more daughters, Tom wouldn’t mind either. Amorette had made it very clear that she’d like at least one daughter, and if it would make her happy Tom would try endlessly with her for their daughter to one day come. But all that mattered right then was this. Him, his wife, and their son. That was all that mattered.
1969, December 13th
7.07am
Once again, Tom, Marvolo and Amorette were back at St Mungo’s, and after a long and strugglesome journey, they were yet again welcoming another member into their little family. To Tom’s surprise, Amorette had wanted to try again for another child quite quickly, but along the way they had learnt that was easier said than done.
But finally, after almost two years of waiting and praying, they had done it. Another child, another Gaunt. They had both prayed for a girl at Amorette’s wish, but they had instead been blessed with yet another boy. Although neither of them had any complaints, a deep part of them both feared that they wouldn’t succeed in their efforts of having another child afterwards, and Amorette’s dreams of having a daughter were slowly fading from her.
And just like her dreams were fading, Amorette herself was fading. Tom had feared it, he had dreaded it. He had seen it one night, while blissfully sleeping next to her, he had a vision of her pale face losing life during childbirth one more time.
He had tried every potion, every charm, every old witches tale to try to stop it, but unfortunately nothing had worked. He had failed his wife, and he had failed himself. At 7.07am on December 13th, Amorette Gaunt was declared dead, all the while Tom III Gaunt was welcomed, taking her place on earth.
He had never wanted to name any of his children after himself, for he himself had been named after his muggle father he had worked so hard to bury. But Amorette had insisted, saying that at least one of his children deserved to share the glory of the Tom name that he had built. To her, she was naming her child after him, and not her father in law. Although Tom was sure she would’ve preferred the name for Marvolo, he had fought against it, and now he would’ve done anything to reverse that moment and do as she wished.
But alas, time was a thief and had just stolen his one true love from him.
1970, August 3rd
4.05pm
Tom had made a mistake. He had betrayed his wife, and had struggled to remain faithful to her even in death.
It all started one gloomy night shortly after the death of his late wife. The December weather had led him to stay holed up in the very house he had built with his lover, his two children on the other side of the manor, not being able to bear looking into their eyes and seeing their mother.
Narcissa Malfoy, newlywed to Lucius Malfoy had gladly volunteered to look after the two children for the time being, for they seemed to also be struggling to have children of their own. Although Tom struggled to admit it, he was deeply grateful for the Malfoy’s, for otherwise his children wouldn’t be able to receive the love they deserved.
Then one night, Bellatrix Black had shown up to visit her sister. After taking the wrong turn in the large house, she had ended up knocking on Tom’s door instead of the children’s nursery.
She was one of his most devoted followers, and to see the leader she so admired struggling pained her. She couldn’t help but offer any service he had wanted, and before they knew it the two had been tangled in his sheets that had barely been left cold.
And now, Bellatrix Black was somewhere in London, giving birth to their child while Tom stood in his family estate, hosting a “death eater” meeting. Or rather, not Tom, but Lord Voldemort.
Using dark magic that he had learnt over the years, Tom had managed to create two versions of himself, something that no one else had ever managed to do before. See, by creating “horcruxes”,an object of the utmost darkest magic, he was able to split his soul and make himself immortal. But, that had quickly turned him freakishly ugly and snakelike, so he had had to think quickly. It was then he learnt how to switch between his all-powerful snakelike form and his frozen 40 year old self. With this, he could continue with his plan of taking over the wizarding world, while at the same time living a normal civilian life. So, by consuming the power of his latest horcrux he was able to switch between forms. Although the process was anything but painless, he still endured it to keep both sides of himself active, something incredibly essential to his long-term plan.
And so baby Leo Cygnus Gaunt was born while his father was somewhere far outside London, Bellatrix left alone to her ward in St Mungos with her child. Unfortunately, Leo would grow up to be everything but what his parents wished, a rebellious Gryffindor, but for that moment Bellatrix appreciated her time alone with what was her ticket into her great Lord’s heart.
1972, May 13th
12.27pm
From the moment he was born, baby Christopher Stephan Gaunt had failed in satisfying Tom Gaunt. After a year of healing, Tom Gaunt had decided that he wanted to fulfill his wife’s dream of having a daughter and continue her legacy and honour her, so he had taken a list of worthy pureblood applicants to carry his daughter for him. The most promising candidate, Stephanie Avery had promised him a daughter, yet what had been born was most certainly not.
Disappointed, Tom had done the task of getting rid of the rather useless mother, and out of obligation would continue to raise his son along with the rest of his children. But, with the peak of the wizarding war coming up, Tom would have to put aside his desire for a daughter and focus on securing a better future for his current family.
1979, September 4th
8.19am
Once again, Tom Gaunt had been left disappointed. After putting aside his dream of having a daughter for a few years, he had finally decided to try again once he sensed the end of the wizarding war nearing.
He had felt it, with the war ending good news was coming. But once again, a son was what emerged, rather than the daughter he so desperately wanted. Bass Darius Gaunt was born to an Iranian witch, someone who had heard of the work of Lord Voldemort and had come by seeking him out. But of course, with her failure to supply him with a daughter, her life, just like the last mother’s had been taken.
1980, August 3rd
7.58pm
A miracle had been born that day. After the failure of Bass, a well-renowned seer, Cassandra Hexsmith, had come to visit Tom Gaunt, claiming that she would be able to carry a daughter for him. This time, he had warned her beforehand. Failure to provide him with a daughter would lead to her death, and she had confidently went in, insisting that her seer abilities had already shown her the outcome.
And that evening, Tom Gaunt cried for the first time since his wife’s death, grateful that his prayers and wishes had worked as he was handed his precious baby girl.
Historia Amorette Gaunt was born, and although Tom had tried to give her the first name of Amorette, her mother had horribly disagreed. She pushed the name Historia, saying that it was the only right name for her, and reluctantly, he had agreed.
And so Historia would grow up spoiled rotten by her father, surrounded by people who would listen to her every wish and command. Tom made sure that Historia always had access to their surplus of money and gold, and that she was well protected against the forces of evil around her. Tom Gaunt might’ve been a horrible person, but around Historia anyone could see the angel in him shining through.
1981, October 30th
10.37pm
Cassandra Gaunt took off her wedding bands and set them down gently on her bathroom sink as she gripped the edge of the counter, her white knuckles most noticeable in the darkness. The only light that shone through was that of the moon, the beam only covering the area that her daughter, Historia covered. The tiny child was playing with her own fingers, occasionally giggling and cooing to herself as her mother battled insanity behind her.
She knew she would regret it, or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to feel afterwards. All she knew was that there was a small voice in her head screaming at her to do it for the greater good.
She whipped around aggressively, making up her mind as she hoisted the child up onto her hips. “Ignore what mummy’s about to do okay sweetheart? Mummy loves you.” she whispered to her child, although she clearly understood nothing of what was going on other than her mother was taking her on an adventure. She giggled at the wind of her mothers breath hitting her ears, clapping her hands together as Cassandra made her best effort to speed through the house.
Down in the drawing room, another death eater meeting was being led by her husband. Merlin, how Cassandra hated all those awful people. But hopefully her efforts wouldn’t be in vain, she would make a difference, make a change.
The two large dark oak doors to the drawing room swung open with the force of magic, a wildly furious Cassandra fuming at her breath. “You can’t do this Tom. This is too far.”
The room froze, all looking at their leader before bursting into laughter at the switch twitch of the corner of his lips. “And what are you going to do to stop me my dear?” he asked condescendingly, his eyebrows furrowed at her mockingly. “Curse me? Is that why your wands pointed at me wildly?” At this, his brainless followers amped up their laughter again, overplaying the supportive followers act.
“I’m going to do this. Hopefully you can see what it feels like.” She declared before drawing a chair over to her with her wand. The screech of the chair made some flinch, but Cassandra didn’t dare, the committed look on her face refusing to leave. She forced the chair far enough that everyone could see, then placed her babbling daughter on the chair. Everyone watched in anticipation as Cassandra took a deep breath once, twice. Then, “AVADA KEDAVRA!”
With the blinding flash of blue light, almost every single wand was raised at the lunatic woman trying to kill her own daughter. When the moment was over, the woman had been hit dead by a hundred curses, but her daughter. Her daughter remained well and alive, sitting in her chair.
The room was aghast. How had this young girl just survived the killing curse?
“Someone bring me my daughter.” The dark lord ordered, his eyes flared. Many people jumped out of their seats to grab the little girl, but it was Peter Pettigrew that reached her first. The ugly rat-like man quivered as he handed the dark lord his precious daughter, his body shaking.
It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, no one dared talk as the dark lord inspected his daughter. He gently ran his finger over her neck, which released a giggle from her, sending sighs of relief all around. “No one speaks of this. No one.” He began again, “To think this happened in my own home… shameful. You are all excused, the mission will continue forth tomorrow.” He announced, sending everyone off with the wave of his arm.
Some stayed behind to wish their gratitude for the miracle that was his daughter surviving, but with curt words of appreciation he hurried them out of his house, desperate to have a moment alone with his daughter.
As soon as the room was empty, he set her down on his large chair at the head of the table, kneeling down to meet her level as he let her hands wrap around his fingers.
“My darling, I am so sorry. Daddy will never let that happen to you ever again.” he promised, vowing to himself to keep that promise until the day he died.
1981, October 31st
11.07pm
He had done it. He had gotten rid of both of the boy's parents who had proven to be weak obstacles. Now all that was left to ensure his reign was to kill the very boy that sat in front of him. He stood over the boy’s mother, her face still contorted with the look of fear she carried right before her death, cheeks stained with the tears she cried. The boy cried in his cot, looking up at the dark lord himself as he called out for his mother and father.
Slowly, he raised his wand at the baby, but he couldn’t get himself to do it. It hovered there like a sign of the undecided. He couldn’t do it, for all he could think of was his late wife trying to kill their daughter. How could she do that to their darling daughter?
But what was making him kill this child? A very vague prophecy? No, he couldn’t let himself hesitate. As he closed his eyes, opened up his soul as he yelled out the killing curse at the baby.
But he had done it wrong. Hadn’t been concentrating and made a few mistakes. First off, the killing curse had failed because he hadn’t meant it. For one of the unforgivable curses to work, you really have to mean them. Perhaps that was why his daughter survived as well, maybe his late wife had not meant it. And he too had let himself get distracted with the image of his innocent daughter and had not meant it when incanting it at the boy. And not only that, but he had accidentally created a powerful horcrux within the boy. By opening up his soul distractedly, he had let the boy become a piece of it.