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A Bend in Time

Before there ever was a boy that ever lived in a cupboard on Four Privet Drive, there was a similar boy in a far worse home that lived on Spinner’s End. We all know the tale of that abused boy who grew up to become a bitter spy. But not all tales end the same for in the many parallel worlds that exist in the universe there are far better endings, and equally as many worse ones. This is a tale of one such condemned universe that for better or for worse chooses to change its own fate at through the sacrifice of the bitter spy. (All rights to the Harry Potter world and characters belong solely to J. K. Rowling. However, I do claim creative fanfiction rights. Please do not post my fanfiction elsewhere without my express permission. This work will also be partially hosted at RoyalRoad, Wattpadd, and Archive.)

EsliEsma · Livros e literatura
Classificações insuficientes
1225 Chs

Dommere Ⅲ

Turning to face the overzealous youthful wizard, Voldemort gazes at Griffin Greengrass, a scion of the main Greengrass family. "Benedict Greengrass is your cousin is he not?"

Griffin Greengrass sneered, "He is a half-breed from the side branch descended from my great-uncle, Terrence Greengrass, a blood traitor!" He spat on the floor in repulsion of his great-uncle's actions in lying with a beast.

"And what of your two brothers, Marek and Gareth?"

"I don't know what that filthy beast did," Griffin spat recalling the wretched Veela that seduced his great-uncle away from the ideals of the family. "However, the malediction curse that has passed down to the daughters of our family has been broken by the decrepit, whore veela-harpy! Marek and Gareth have had a change of heart and are uniting the branch families once more under the main household."

Seeing that it would not be possible to persuade the most numerous side branches of the Greengrass family to join him, Voldemort swiftly changes tactics. "Then I will entrust you to aid, Gibbons, in his endeavor."

"I shall not fail, master," Griffin Greengrass vehemently swore, before darting away. He had plenty of friends and would be sure to convince them in no time to join their glorious cause. Of that much he was certain.

 "Quilliam Arnold," Voldemort abruptly turned to the remaining Death Eater beyond Lestrange, who still remains kneeling on the floor. "Your cousin Garrick proved useless," he chided as he lovingly held his wand in his hand.

The arrogant pureblood wizard pales but swiftly defends himself. "A useless peacock that one," Quilliam Arnold sneered. "He denied our cause and was removed from the Board as a result. My uncle stripped Garrick of his rights and transferred them to his wife, who recently bore his heir."

"I abhor failure," Voldemort methodically responded and pointed his wand at the pureblood. "Crucio!" He shouted casting the Cruciatus curse upon Quilliam Arnold.

Quilliam Arnold's screams fill the air as his body begins to twist and turn under the force of the terrible spell. His painful shrieks fill the air echoing through the hall and beyond, even into the courtyard.

After what seems like hours, Quilliam's screams abruptly cease causing the scent of fear to thicken. Voldemort with a bored expression stares down at the quivering body of Quilliam Arnold that continues to fiercely shake with the aftereffects of the cruciatus curse. "I will not be so tolerant next time, Arnold," he dismissively said turning away from the shuddering figure of Quilliam Arnold on the ground.

"Rise, my most loyal one," Voldemort gestured to Rodolphus Lestrange, who had patiently remained kneeling the entire time.

"Thank you, Milord," Lestrange rose up like a dark shadow of the night.

"What news is there of the Acolytes?" Voldemort sharply inquired.

"Plans are in movement, Dark Lord, your will shall be conveyed as promised," Rodolphus Lestrange earnestly responded.

"I am most pleased to hear that, Lestrange," Voldemort frigidly smiled imagining the day of his vengeance. "Ensure the Acolytes deliver their part; we need them in order to complete our objectives."

"Naturally, Dark Lord," Rodolphus bowed his head in agreement, his dark eyes racing in thought. Though out of the corner of his eye, he peeked at Voldemort's stomach. The wound had healed, and the trap was set.

 "Take that with you," Voldemort contemptuously gestured to the quivering form of Quilliam Arnold on the stone floor.

 "I live to serve," Rodolphus sincerely said, before grabbing the collar of the wizard and hauling him out of the hall. The choking sounds of Quilliam Arnold are loud as he struggles to breathe as he is dragged out of the hall, before being thrown out into the hall near the hungry serpent.

Stumbling to his feet, Quilliam Arnold flees with blatant hatred on his face vowing revenge for the insult. Rodolphus Lestrange's blazing eyes meet the malicious gaze of the serpent. The Horcrux, Nagini's malicious evil yellow eyes narrow at the wizard, who gazes down at it as though it were prey. The serpent loudly hisses and bares its fangs, but Rodolphus Lestrange mockingly curls its lips at seeing how heavily laden the serpent is.

The Horcrux, Nagini moves to attack, but the wizard easily moves out of the serpent's way. "The hunter becomes the prey," the dark-haired wizard taunted before departing with dark robes snapping behind.

Furious, Nagini curses at the wizard, before angrily slithering back to Voldemort. With his back to the serpent, Voldemort pensively gazes out into the night. In his youth, he had dreamed of power and immortality. Even then, he had those who agreed with his cause and followed him, the Knights of Walpurgis.

Dolohov and Mulciber had both fallen for the cause while Nott, Avery, and Rosier had turned away as traitors. Lestrange Sr. had long since passed leaving his sons to serve in his stead though only one son remained, Rodolphous Lestrange. Yet their sacrifices would not be in vain, he would be victorious.

The continued loud cursing of his horcrux rudely pulls him out of his reverie. "What has so sorely vexed you, Nagini?" Voldemort finally asked his Horcrux lest it continue to persist.

"The wizard that burns of fire and ice," Nagini indignantly hissed, "called me prey."

Turning away from the view, Voldemort coolly eyes the serpent. "You are rather slow and heavy; it is not an uncalled observation to be seen as prey."

The Horcrux, Nagini curses in anger, before maliciously vowing, "I shall eat him in the end, you shall see."

"No, Lestrange is loyal enough for my needs," Voldemort immediately opposed the serpent's remark. "Lestrange has never disobeyed me which is more than I can say for all those that serve me."

"I do not trust him," Nagini hissed in protest.

"So, you have repeatedly said," Voldemort impatiently turned away from the serpent.

Sorely vexed at being so casually dismissed, the Horcrux, Nagini knew exactly how to spite her master. Swaying playfully across the floor, the serpent hisses, "Ah, but what to do? No heirs for the master?" The serpent dramatically widens its eyes. "And even the Chamber of Secrets has been revealed and is to be used by all! Oh, the glorious legacy of the master's ancestor is to become common. Oh, master, what would thine ancestor say?"

 Pursuing his lips, Voldemort does not rise to the bait. "There be time enough to procure heirs and set everything right once I am in power." He had all the time in the world now that he knew there was a female parselmouth in existence.

 Nagini snaps its jaws in annoyance, before flicking its lips. "That witch smelled off. There was no foul stench that clung to her of the abomination. Yet there is a faint almost lingering scent hidden beneath the surface of her skin."

"I peered into her mind," Voldemort firmly reputed, "Dorcas Meadows held no other within her."

The Horcrux, Nagini though unconvinced does not continue to persuade the master otherwise. Closing its eyes, it coiled around the throne to rest and digest the prey within. Flicking its dark tongue, the serpent closes its dark yellow eyes to nap.

The figure of Voldemort stands alone and almost lonely in front of the window. At times like these a strange sensation could be felt in the depths of Voldemort's chest. It was foreign and uncomfortable, but he refused to accept, nor much less name the emotion in his chest. Sacrifices had to be made, surely Nagini would have understood that better than anyone.

We know that is biased among wizardkind, I point at Umbridge, who called the centaurs half-breeds or beasts. So there is surely bias toward any relationship that is with a magical being that is not wholly considered human.

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