" What bizarre contingencies we seem to be in. I'm sure you'd agree, Tom? For it is not often that one's enemy turns itself to wonder... Wonder at the validity of these so called principles we've been exposed to up until momentarily. "
" There's the AU one where Harry recieves the Diary rather than Ginny. "
" One Harry James Potter, bequeathed to a one Tom Marvolo Riddle. "
" One Lucius Malfoy, in an affair with his son: a one Draco Malfoy. "
" Why not? That's a good reason for almost everything - a bit used, perhaps, but still quite serviceable.*"
" * = Phantom Tollbooth, Norton Juster. " " Harry Potter ( series ), J. K. Rowling. " " Our own minds, though slightly irrational, Reality. "
x Inuko, posing as Riddle [ http : / www. inuko913 . deviantart . com ]
x Gothikalea, posing as Potter [ http : / www . lydiaeldafreya . deviantart . com ]
Posted with Permission from Inuko ( and I'm on the other end of the deal, so I don't really need permission from myself, but before you get angry, yes, I have asked myself about whether or not I am allowed to post this. ). This will be Slash, meaning that there will ( eventually ) be Homosexual pairings. As a matter of fact, the homosexuality begins in the second chapter. I abide by the DL,DR rule, so, Don't like...Don't read. Not only this, but I do not have a Beta as this is a roleplay. If you see any mistakes, feel free to point them out. I will also not be updating this with every single thing we say as that would be quite tedious and I see no valid reason to. However, if you would like to track this story's progress, here is the URL:
http : / www . gaiaonline . com / forum / invitation-only-rp / t.72636011
" Let us commence. "
It was peculiar, it was. In a strange way that was not entirely perplexing, Potter had managed to do the unthinkable yet again with the Snake Incident.
The little boy had matured quite early on, he had. Not that anyone close to him would admit it. Then again, considering the people close to him, it wasn't much of a surprise that no one cared about - or even noticed - his transformation from a child to an adult. Harry still guarded his mask of innocence well behind those large, emerald orbs. Yet it was more of a childish mellowness that he had reached, not having fully become an adult - somewhat paradoxic of a concept, but then again, this was " bloody " Harry James Potter: the Boy-Who-Lived. To Salazar's Chambers with it all if he wasn't capable of bewildering a muggle ( or even a wizard, at that ) or two here or there.
Not that he was acquainted with the insignificant detail that he was The-Boy-Who-Lived, of course. Quite honestly, the little boy thought that he wasbattyafter the Snake Incident, as humorous as that Incident at the Zoo was. He thought himself more and more Less Sane after any Incident, really, as each and any incident that had Harry involved would always be anIncident, with a capital I, rather than a simple "incident". Yes, the little boy assumed he was Quite Positively Bonkers.
Harry rounded the corner into an alleyway desperately, his small feet tired of being in motion, before he collapsed. His immaculate, tender hands trailed roughly along the coarse, cold, uneven texture of stone brick, guiding him rather than his eyes as he'd left the Dursleys' humble abode without an inch of an idea of where he was going. He refused to let the advancing tears emerge; Harry rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, it being overly excessive in length due to his limitation in clothing anyway, and wracked dry sobs, biting his bottom lip until he tasted crimson, all the while gasping and attempting to re-obtain a hold on reality.
It really had gotten to be too bloody damn much, this Incident had. Well, that was how his "Uncle" had so ceremoniously put it. Harry himself didn't see anything different from this Incident as from the other Incidents.
Sure, he'd talked to a snake. That was pretty normal. Dudley talked to his hand daily while he was thrusting into it at night. Saying things like "Ugh!", "Yeah!", and "So tight!". So talking to a snake wasn't that bad.
Sure, he'd released it, striking fear into all the people nearby and snapping at them. But it was a snake, and the snake just wanted to go to Brazil. The people should have moved out of its way so it could have gotten to Brazil.
Sure, Dudley had ended up trapped on the wrong side of a glass wall.
But hey, no one had been hurt this time.
So he actually found this Incident to be commendable because Dudley wasn't seriously injured - or, even better, dead.
At a younger age, Harry had seeked approval again and again from his relatives. Even up until now, he'd seeked acceptance. A thought had been tugging at Harry's consciousness recently, however. An interesting thought.
... Perhaps he didn't need to be accepted.
Acceptance was for the weak.
He was not weak.
He placed an imaginary brain tendril on the concept that, perhaps, getting others to accept him was for the strong.
But he dismissed that thought from correlating to himself. The truth that he wasn't strong. Slightly prone to self-preserverance than most as he hadn't fallen into some sort of depression by now, yes, but not strong. Strong people had toned bodies and self esteem.
His ego was quite a few inches too short ofthat. On both accounts.
There was one more option.
Not having acceptance, period.
See, see? Truth says that Acceptance is useless for thenot sane, synonymous toinsane, which, he murmured, was not to be confused with " inane ", which was what his relatives were.Hedefinitely wasn't inane.
He accepted it easily, because it was the Truth. Truth was never Lies. And then he promptly fell asleep.
"Father, I found a queer-looking boy in Diagon Alley," the young boy said somewhat petulantly, nimbly moving his fingers across his forehead to move the silvery-blonde locks back to their place. It was bloodysummer, and way too hot. Perspiring was something that was simply undesirable, especially for someone of high standing like that of a Malfoy.
The older man had the urge to flippantly flip his own blonde tresses back like his son, but ignored it. It would look much too childish. And Malfoys weren't childish.
"Did you now, Draco?" He asked, with an uninterested tone that showed simplyhowuninterested he was, how tedious this subject was, and how he much he desired to simplydropit.
"Yes." Draco frowned slightly at his father's tone, but he, unlike his father, found the subject quite enthralling. "It was sleeping!" Then, after a bit more thought, his pale-grey eyes lit up and he smiled.
"Can we keep it?"
"No." The word was spoken without hesitation, a swift blow to the smaller Malfoy's feelings. Why Draco wanted to keep ahuman, out of all things, slightly irked Lucius, but it was his son after all, and to keep a boy as a pet probably meant to keep the boy as a servant. And they had enough of those already.
"Awwww? Pleeease?" Draco begged, pouting and tugging on his father's sleeve. "He's really pretty."
"No." Lucius's eyes flashed, signifying that the issue was to be . "And what have I told you about begging?" he hissed.
"Malfoys never beg," Draco muttered, his tone like that of one reading from a textbook, rolling his eyes. Then he began tugging at his father's sleeve again. "He's really really really pretty though! His hair is black and he's really skinny so he probably doesn't have an owner... And he has this funny-shaped lightning bolt thing on his head! Please please pleeasee?"
"No means n-" Lucius then halted his steps, and turned to his son increduously, taking in the description he'd just been provided with. After a few seconds of silence, he said hesitantly, with an odd look on his face that displayed how barmy he must be for even saying the sentence, "A lightning bolt?"
Draco grinned widely, knowing he'd won, and pointing a perfectly manicured finger towards the way they'd just walked from. "Yeah! On his forehead! He's back that way!"
In a room some where in the Malfoy estate, a small black book rested on a simple desk. What resided in the pages was more than just old brittle paper; it held the adolescent manifestation of the Dark Lord, Tom Marvolo Riddle. For years Riddle waited in the shadows of his diary, wanting release, craving the sensation of someone to open the diary. He always compared this to Pandora's Box, and with the help of who ever would open his diary, Riddle would spread his malicious acts upon the world exactly like every plague known to man.