Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Written for the Weekly AU! Competition! Support group AU!
Hope I did an alright job…
Harry stared in unconcealed horror at the room. It was large and empty save for the chairs arranged in a circle around a small, beat-up coffee table. ''Why do I have to be here? I don't even meet the requirements.''
''Because we all have to be here, and because I'd break something if I had to come here alone. Now shut up.'' Voldemort's eyes blazed.
''Why do you must always – ''
Just then, a lazy voice interrupted them. ''Children, children.'' The obnoxious man drawled. ''Be nice or so help me when your father gets home…''
''You old bastard. What, you still have to come here?'' Voldemort hissed.
But Gellert Grindelwald merely smirked. ''Aw, little Voldie doesn't like group therapy. Well, I did always say death screws us all over.''
''Shut up, before I hurt you.''
''What atrocious behaviour.'' Another interruption. ''You youngsters are all so ill-mannered. In my time – ''
''Oh do keep quiet, Merwyn. You don't even belong here, you just want to be seen as important.''
The young man was handsome and scowling, striding forward and carefully escorting a woman.
''My dear Gellert!'' The woman cooed. ''I have missed you! It has been ever so boring here without you!''
''My fair lady.'' Gellert bowed. ''Forgive me, I had to show this one here the ropes.''
Voldemort grimaced. Gellert's ideas of what it mean to show someone 'the ropes' of being dead were… odd and traumatising.
''A... how do you say it... a newbie?'' The woman curiously leaned forward to see Voldemort. ''How marvellous! A new friend! Is it not just splendid, my son?''
Her son, the man who had escorted her, sighed. ''Yes, mother, of course it is. Now, please, let go of my arm.''
Voldemort stared at them blankly. ''Morgan le Fey, I presume? And Mordred Pendragon?''
''Don't call me Pendragon.'' Mordred glared, but Morgan merely clapped her hands.
''Isn't he precious, my son? And he brought a friend!''
''We're not friends.'' Harry muttered.
And then another person showed up. ''Sorry I'm late, everyone, my wife wouldn't stop babbling about our latest descendant! I brought Mary's biscuits, though!'' This man was short, with wildly shining purple eyes. Morgan almost fainted in joy.
''Yardley, my sweet! You haven't visited me at all this month!''
The man, Yardley, choked when she hugged him, effectively cutting off his air with her breasts. ''Hurk! Let go – of me – you – Ah! – let go!''
''Oi, oi, oi! What's happening here? Didn't I say no fighting?''
This newcomer towered over everyone, and Morgan quickly let go of Yardley. ''Emeric.'' She sniffed.
Emeric made a face at her. ''Bitch.''
''Uncouth dog.'' She retaliated.
''My lady!'' Gellert wormed his way in between the two, flailing around, doing a noodle impression with his arms. ''Don't lower yourself to his level. You are far better than the commoner.''
Morgan sighed and fanned herself with an elaborate pink monstrosity that somehow had the form of a fan. ''You are right as ever, Gellert. Shall we get the meeting started?''
Voldemort wondered why he was forced to do this.
Oh right, he remembered bitterly, he had been a Dark Lord in life, and that obviously meant he needed therapy. Bloody Death and the bloody Council, making him go to a support group for the rest of his afterlife. Bastards, all of them.
Yardley shook his head. ''We have to wait for Salazar and Herpo. In the meantime…'' He eyed Voldemort curiously. ''You're Voldemort, right? The newest Dark Lord? Who's your friend?''
Voldemort immediately took offence. ''This snivelling coward is not my friend!''
''Yeah, who would want to be his friend? He practically kidnapped me!'' The brunet huffed, and then smiled. ''But, I'm Harry. Nice to meet you.''
Morgan's eyes glimmered and she rested her hands over her heart. ''You're such a nice boy! My, if only Mordred would smile a bit more…'' Suddenly, the glimmer turned into an unholy, burning light. ''You would be a good influence on him, would you not? And you'd look so nice together – ''
''Mother!'' Mordred screeched. ''Stop shipping me with random people!''
Harry's face burned. ''Mrs le Fey, I'm sorry but I – ''
''Ah, my lady, but he is but a child. It's still too soon for him to let go of his earthly bonds.'' Gellert came to his rescue, and Harry wasn't sure if he should be relieved or offended. He was not a child!
Voldemort smirked at him, as did Yardley and Merwyn. Harry glared back at all of them. Wankers.
And then yet another person showed up. ''Woohoo! Everybody board the par-ow! Emeric! That hurt!''
''As it should have. You're late. As is Salazar. Where is the sour bastard anyway?''
The man, whom Voldemort disbelievingly recognised as Herpo the Foul, was rubbing the back of his head with a pout. ''Why should I care what he does? I'm not his keeper.''
Emeric snorted. ''You're best friends, moron. If anyone knows where he is, it's you.''
''Well, now!'' Herpo crossed his arms angrily. ''If that's how you think it is! And I assure you it's not like that at all! Apparently, I'm not serious enough for the prat. Good riddance, I say, good riddance!''
Merwyn sniffed. ''You should control yourself, Herpo. One would think you a child from how you act, and Salazar really should learn to – ''
''What are you saying about Salazar?!'' Herpo cracked his knuckles threateningly. ''You freak! Only I get to talk about Zara, you shrivelled up old fig!''
Merwyn remained unimpressed.
''Really, now, Herpo. I thought I told you to stop with that nickname?''
Salazar had finally come. Harry snickered at Slytherin's appearance: there was nothing intimidating about a man with silver clips shaped like roses in his hair, no matter how hard the man in question tried.
Herpo swelled up in indignation, immediately pretending not to give a whit about him. ''I'm not talking to you, you bastard!''
''Oh dear.'' Salazar sneered. ''Whatever have I done now? And however shall I survive?''
''Despite your obvious disagreement, Salazar,'' Gellert seated himself on one of the chairs arranged in a circle, there for them to sit while having their group therapy or support group or whatever it was, ''you do not make yourself sound smarter by acting like a snooty noble. We all know your father was a merchant.''
Salazar tried to murder the androgynous Hungarian with his eyes, because they were forbidden from bringing their wands to the session.
Emeric clapped his hands grimly. ''Time to start, everybody. Take your seats. Oh, and one of you two will have to sit on the floor.'' He said in pointedly Voldemort and Harry's direction. ''We were only expecting one of you.''
Harry mutinously flopped on the floor once it was clear that Voldemort was not going to offer the chair as a sign of good will and proof of their truce. Snaky bastard, he thought, even if he did now look like Tom Riddle Jr was supposed to, before all the rituals ruined him.
''Gellert, my sweet,'' Morgan tittered, ''should we not introduce ourselves to the newcomers?''
Gellert bowed so low his curly hair swept the floor a bit. ''Of course, my lady! Perhaps you, as the most vibrant one here, should have the honour of being the first?''
''Gladly! Well then!'' She turned to them with barely concealed glee. ''I am Morgan le Fey, daughter of Igraine. I am the sister of Arthur Pendragon, mother of Mordred Pendragon – ''
''Don't call me Pendragon, mother!'' Mordred complained.
'' – the nemesis of Merlin himself!'' She sighed happily. ''He always was such a silly dear, that Merlin. My, this one time – ''
Yardley coughed to get her attention. ''Maybe you should get on with it and say what you did?''
Morgan blinked. ''Oh right. Well, I did try to take the crown from Arthur. And there was the whole Merlin business. And that little harlot Nimue! And, I suppose I did drug Arthur and get pregnant with Mordred…''
Mordred groaned in pain and embarrassment.
''But I was not evil at all! It was all just one big misunderstanding!'' Morgan defended herself.
Voldemort stared. ''…Right…''
Harry giggled, but he was mostly ignored as he was not a former Dark Lord.
A moment passed, and Mordred sighed. ''I suppose I'm next. Well, I'm Mordred, and if you don't know what I did, then you're idiots and don't deserve to know anyway. Now you, Merwyn.''
The wrinkled man drew himself up importantly. Voldemort wondered what it told of the man that he still appeared old, despite the fact they all looked the way they saw themselves, that is, in best possible light. ''I am Merwyn the Malicious, who invented all of the best hexes and curses that exist. You should – ''
Herpo laughed suddenly, loud and obnoxious. Salazar elbowed him.
''Oh, sorry.'' Herpo apologised, looking decidedly unapologetic. ''I was reading something – Hey, Zara, give that back!''
Salazar huffed. ''You were forbidden from bringing your nasty books in here.''
''What kind of books?'' Harry asked, because the entire room had frowned in displeasure. He wanted to know what it was that would disgust a group of former Dark Lords.
''He reads – '' and here Yardley shuddered '' – real life fanfiction. Real life fanfiction based on us.''
Morgan glared at Herpo. ''And he ships all the nastiest pairings.''
''Hey!'' Herpo glowered. ''They're not nasty! I'll have you know that all my OTPs – ''
Yardley clammed his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut. ''Lalalalalalaaaa! I can't hear you! Look, I'm not listening!''
Herpo sulked. ''Oh, so it's alright for the harpy to ship her son slash nephew with whichever man she deems 'cute', but I can't indulge in any Gellert and Emeric fluff. Real fair, you lot. Way to show your double standards.''
Salazar patted Herpo's head. ''Here,'' he offered, not a lick of malice or sarcasm in his tone, ''have some biscuits.''
''I'm next!'' Yardley bounced, pointedly ignoring Herpo's passive-aggressive way of stuffing his face. ''I'm Yardley Platt. I wasn't a real Dark Lord, but a serial killer. But I only killed goblins, so it was fine. My wife used to be really mean about it, but I've got better since I died, so she doesn't mind it if I go have some fun every few years, as long as I don't come back with ruined clothes. Nice to meet you!''
He beamed at them like a child.
Harry would have been horrified if he was still alive, but what are morals and caring to a dead person? Who cared about social conventions when the society no longer considered your conduct worth anything, be it proper or scandalous?
Besides, he thought a little vengefully, the little bastards deserved it. Griphook certainly did.
Voldemort was still wearing the look of utmost disdain on his face.
''He got to be here for almost starting another Goblin war.'' Explained Emeric.
''Unlike a certain someone who just showed up unannounced one day.'' Added Mordred spitefully.
Merwyn crossed his arms and sneered.
Emeric radiated solemn disapproval at Merwyn's party-crashing skills. ''Next up, Salazar. Introduce yourself and Herpo.'' He sounded bored to death.
''Why do I have to introduce him, too?'' Salazar whined. ''We didn't even live at the same time!''
''Yeah!'' Herpo grinned smugly. ''I'm older.''
Salazar tossed his hair, blinding Gellert with the fact that the Slytherin's hair was long enough to be tossed. ''That just means you're more wrinkled. We all know you're mentally a toddler.''
Herpo fumed and lunged. ''Why you – ''
''Now, now, children.'' Gellert patronised, making Morgan titter again. ''Play by the rules, please.''
Voldemort stared at the blond. ''I am unsure whether to be glad I got to be the one to kill you, or to wish you were still alive so I don't have to deal with you now.'' He said bluntly.
''We all feel that way.'' Commiserated Mordred. ''Well, without the satisfaction of killing him.'' He amended.
''Anyway.'' Salazar snapped, adopting a serene expression as soon as the attention was back on him. ''I'm Salazar Slytherin. I founded Hogwarts. The others just stood there and looked pretty. My House is the best one, and Slytherins will one day take over the world. Oh, I also had a really nifty basilisk as a pet. I'm not sure what gender it was, but its name was Sergei.''
''And me?'' demanded Herpo.
A devious glint appeared in Salazar's eyes. ''Ah yes. You. You're Herpo, in case you didn't know, and you also had a basilisk. Is your memory failing you, my friend?'' He smirked and he and Herpo fist bumped.
''I really have no idea why the two of you are friends.'' Yardley admitted after watching the two exchange slasher-like grins. ''I'm not sure I even want to.''
''It's because they're both morons, Yardley dear. I mean, just look at them.'' Gellert motioned at the pair, who were now having a staring contest.
''I'm not sure I feel comfortable being called 'dear' by someone other than my wife. You should go bother Morgan.'' Yardley deadpanned. ''She likes hearing about your nonsense.''
''Yardley!'' Morgan gasped and clutched at her bosom. ''You break my heart! Are we not the dearest of friends?!''
''Mother, stop embarrassing me!'' Mordred tugged on her sleeve and tried to pull her back into her seat.
Merwyn and Yardley were ignoring a steadily reddening Emeric and laughing more and more obnoxiously by the second, apparently finding Gellert's sucking up to Morgan hilarious.
Voldemort sighed. ''I don't belong here.'' He whined at Harry softly. ''They're all idiots.''
''Maybe it's your punishment for being a meanie?'' Harry suggested. ''After all, you did – ''
''Silence!'' roared Emeric. He had finally lost patience for the zoo around him.
Everyone shut up.
''Good.'' Heaved Emeric. ''Now, Gellert will introduce himself. Then I will, and then our new members will. You will all be quiet and behaved. Am I clear?''
''Crystal clear, Emmy.'' Cooed Morgan.
''Well then.'' Gellert posed, looking decidedly feminine. ''I'm Gellert Grindelwald. I terrorised the world some seventy years ago, but, thanks to our sweet Voldemort here, I only died a few months ago. I used to be the worst Dark Lord to ever live. Again, until Voldie here showed up.''
Voldemort looked murderous.
''Also, I – ''
''Thank you.'' Emeric cut him off. ''It's my turn. I'm Emeric the Evil. I was the owner of the Deathstick in my life. I killed people, burned some villages, maybe threatened to kill the Minister… and then my cousin Egbert killed me. For the wand, might I add. He didn't give a damn about the people or the villages.''
He turned to stare expectantly at Voldemort, pretending not to hear Herpo's complaints that he made his life sound so boring when it was actually akin to a soap opera.
''If you think I'll be communing with you cretins, you are even more stupid than I thought.'' Voldemort scoffed. ''Talk to the brat if you want, but I'd like to pretend I'm not here.''
Harry frowned. He really should have foreseen that Voldemort would throw him to the wolves.
''Er…'' he rubbed the back of his head. ''I'm Harry?''
Emeric was unimpressed. ''You asking us or telling us?''
''Telling you.'' Harry straightened. ''I'm Harry Potter. I actually killed him – ''
''We killed each other, brat.''
'' – and I'm here 'cause Voldemort wanted someone else to suffer with him. He's Lord Voldemort, but he's really Tom Riddle.''
A pale hand smacked him so hard his glassed fell off his face. Harry's eyes filled with tears of pain. ''What was that for, you bully?'' He screeched.
''For saying unnecessary things. Now be quiet.'' Voldemort glared him into submission, unmoved by Harry's pout. ''I'm the greatest Dark Lord ever to live. I had seven horcruxi. That's all you need to know.''
The group stared at each other. What now?
''Want some biscuits?'' offered Yardley. ''My wife made them.''
Harry shrugged and decided to just go with it. ''Um, sure.'' He would need it.
''Well… What do you do here?'' Harry asked Emeric.
The redhead shrugged. ''This was meant as a group therapy. But since not one of us thought we actually needed therapy, they renamed it a support group. Which basically means we gather here every month and annoy each other. It can be fun, though.'' Emeric smirked. ''You should see it when Mordred gets drunk. He may seem like an uptight arse, but when he's shitfaced, he starts acting like a horny teenage girl.''
Harry watched as Voldemort gave up and got into an argument with his esteemed ancestor. Salazar was, somehow, despite his ridiculous thought process, winning.
''You know,'' he told Emeric, ''I think I like it here.''
Emeric nodded like this was the most normal response in the world. ''Have some more biscuits.''
Reviews are always welcome.