heA/N: So this is just a lil' somethin' that just popped into my head after reading to many dark!Harry Potter Fanfictions. I just recently read one where Tom Riddle is Harry Potter's real daddy so I decided to do a Xover with a bit of a twist. Enjoy :)
Disclaimer: All characters that sound familiar belong to either J.K. Rowling or Marvel Inc. I am making no profit.
Prologue: Long Live The Dark Heir!
July 3, 1989
With uncanny resemblance to the famous albino peacocks prancing about his grounds, Abraxas Malfoy strutted briskly towards his study. His hands twitched noticeably, and his eyes were a mixture of fear and anticipation. Much too soon for his liking, he had arrived at his intended destination. The crème walls of his manor seemed to have turned an eerie shade of grey, and the portraits, for once in their miserable wall life, decided to stay quiet. Much was happening that night, and the entire magical world had stopped to hold is sweet breath. The silence gave way to three knocks on a heavy oaken door that were placed with audible hesitance.
"Enter." The voice was quiet yet affirmative, and it sent a chill like no other down Abraxas's spine. There was no turning back.
Carefully, with calculated steps, Abraxas entered the spacious room slowly pushing the heavy door into a sweeping arc. His line of vision was trained solely on the wine colored plush carpet, all book shelves and expensive liquors rested contently in his periphery. Remembering his place, he slid fluidly into a subservient kneel, head bowed low and hands clasped together tightly.
"It is Maria, My Lord. She is experiencing a most complicated labor, I am told." He began carefully, hating to be the bearer of bad news. Swallowing painfully and licking chapped lips, Abraxas was careful to keep his eyes as far away from his master as possible even if the man was facing his back to him. With haste, he continued. "Walburga has taken watch over her, she fears your mistress will not survive the birth." The 40-something year old slumped further to the ground, his chest brushed the floor. Tailored robes pooled around him and the silence was beginning to feel like an unbearable age, though he was positive it had only been a mere moment from which he entered the room. Seconds ticked by, and Abraxas' discomfort was increased tenfold. Sweat beaded down the sides of his pale face and were absorbed greedily by the high velvet collar of his tailored robes.
"Very well then. Get out." The dismissal was deep, silky, and succinct, leaving Abraxas no information on where he was to go or what he was to do. Unsurely, the blond rose from the position of obiscience he had folded himself into and chanced a glance at the other man. His lord's back faced him, rather the back of the regal leather chair did, and a glass of what appeared to be Abraxas's own finest cognac was held aloft in the strong right hand. The amber liquid contrasted uniquely with the alabaster skin surrounding. The Dark Lord remained unmoving.
In that moment, Abraxas began to fully comprehend the underlying implications of the dismissal, and it caused great confusion and uncertainty within him.
If it were himself receiving word that his heir was in jeopardy, even the mother who was birthing him, he would be out of his chair and to her chamber impossibly fast. Abraxas knew that he was not alone in this thought, that any other pureblooded male would react similarly. The heir of a family was the single most important wealth of the family, and he was just that, a wealth. Though, above all, the heir is a child, and flesh and blood at that. Precious and priceless.
It was unheard of; a man of such power, the Dark Lord, merely waving away such news of a complicated labor like it was The Prophet's latest speculation. Was that act of impassiveness a clever ruse for the Dark Lord to instill a further reaching fear in his subjects? That he had no need for an heir and such matters were trivial and happenstance? Was it a genuine uncaring of the welfare of his child, or the woman who would feed the child best? Both thoughts scared him, as both showed ruthlessness to the highest and almost unheard of degree- the willingness to sacrifice one's own for personal gain. It was utterly Slytherin in the worst way possible.
With an unseen bow, Abraxas swept from the study and shut the door quietly behind him. On light feet he made his way to his lord's mistress' chamber, where she was under the close eye of Walburga Black. A change would be made in the Malfoy allegiance.
In a royal flourish, Tom Riddle entered Maria Stark's chamber. The air smelled heavily of pain relieving potions and sweat, a musk that displeased the lord to no end. Walburga Black stood straighter in place, though her posture still lacked, causing the Dark Lord to sneer something awful in her direction. It was a common inquiry among the Daeth Eaters, especially the Inner Circle, as to why Walburga Black was of any use to the Dark Lord. Her incompetence was seconded only by her love of gossip, and she was widely deemed as a sorry example of the British Wizarding World. Her political state was a sad one, and the Black madness was strong within. Quite frankly, she was a vapid bitch and unfit to be of service to the Dark Order.
It was no secret that Walburga was more than a little jealous of Maria Stark. The noble woman would have sacrificed an arm and a leg and her family's questionable and near nonexistent integrity to be in Maria's position- lying on a soft bed, panting and grunting in pain
Turning his attention to the more important thing in the room, Riddle fixed a scrutinizing gaze upon Maria. The woman's hair was a knotted mess, her face was contorted with the highest degree of pain and her brow was heavy the sweat, something which there was no need for. There was access to a pain relieving potion for the more extreme of births, and it should have been administered during the first contraction. True, it was quite the penny, but it wasn't as though the Black or Malfoy vaults were lacking.
"Walburga, your disservice is noted and proper punishment will be distributed at a later time. I have an important matter to attend to. You are dismissed." Walburga gaped at her leader unintelligently, blinking as if she had just been slapped across the cheek. She hadn't thought that her withholding of the Maximum labrorare excrutius morsus potion would be noticed, and didn't quite understand how her lord had noticed.
"My Lord, I do-" The woman began in what she hoped was a flattering and utterly seductive tone, only to be cut of with no small amount of disgust an irritation.
"I will not repeat myself." Walburga needed no further prompting, and in a flurry of gaudy violet frills and lace which clashed horribly with her Mediterranean skin, she was out the door. A click signaling her true exit.
A wave of his wand later, privacy wards thick and dangerous enough to protect a gringotts vault erected around the decent sized chamber. Tom walked to Maria's bedside and peered down at her in what she interpreted as disapproval. She was not wrong.
"Look at you. Walburga is right you know. You are nothing but a simple brood mare." Maria stared at the harsh man before her with impassive eyes, though her impressive gaze could not be held for longer than a minute as her vision blacked for a moment in punctuation for an agonizing contraction. She couldn't summon the strength to feel even slightly embarrassed about the fact that her legs were propped wide open and her ankles rested on metal stirrups hanging from the ceiling. No doubt the hasty charms work of a broken house elf.
Her scream was met with a degrading sneer. "And to think I thought you were worth it, Mrs. Stark."
Maria's heart dropped, and the ice in her chest had her foolishly believing for a second that it tumbled right out of her stretching birth canal.
"You finally figured it out. Bravo. And here I am, dropping cheesy 007 lines. While giving birth no less. What, you want a standing ovation? Tommy Boy becomes new Sherlock Holmes?" Her tired rant was cut short by yet another near black out and bout of excruciating pain. Her breath was coming in shallow, rapid pants, and her lungs ached with effort.
"You will give me my heir. Then you will die." Riddle stared at her wit unreadable ruby eyes, but his words were slow and deliberate, and every syllable dragged with the promise. He turned his back and remained utterly unconcerned as Maria let loose yet another guttural scream. A twitch of his lips gave a glimpse of his internal musings to the skilled eye. He had no true necessity for this unborn heir. The boy would only serve to expedite certain matters with his more exotic allies.
These allies wished to see his empire as official and stable as possible. What better way to provide proof of stability than to have an heir to ensure continuation, to show his commitment despite the fact that he would not die. And of course there were other allies of his that wanted his heir, particularly the child of the wench on the bed, for their own reasons. It didn't matter, for even though it was his seed, he cared not.
"That's kinda funny actually. I'm going to have to opt out of that one. You see, I'm very much alive, and I plan to keep it that way." It was a lie, and a very poor one. Maria felt an unnatural wetness pooling between her spread legs, and was sure if she could see past her enormous stomach, she would be greeted with a river of red. "So, you know, if you don't mind, I'll be keeping my son and continue living my life with one Howard Stark, thank you very much." Tiredness began to creep into her bones and she screamed once more. The pain was coming more and more frequently, and it was only a matter of time before her son would enter the world a damned bastard, or they both would succumb to the sweet serenity of Hel.
"You think yourself clever, Maghir the Interpreter. Your life is not your own. I say when and how you die. It will be by my hand, after you watch your son being taken into my arms." With a smile to strike fear into the hearts of Valkyries, Riddle turned to Maria.
"Narcissa, you may enter now." Silently, Narcissa Black, soon to be Malfoy swept into the room, ice blue fited robes swaying gently. Her eyes were completely downcast, though her features were the picture of utter boredom and impatience- after all, nothing less was expected of the talented, pampered pureblood princess.
"Would you like to be present for the birth, My Lord?" The question was genuine enough, and Riddle actually considered her for a moment. Still, his gaze remained on Maria, and she met his eyes with equal intensity.
"Nay. I shall be in my study. Summon an elf for me when the child is freed." Tom made his way to the door swiftly, exited and dropped the wards.
Not a moment passed before Narcissa erected wards of her own and whipped out a book concealed under her robes. The tiny leather bound book was cracked and weathered, and the title read Modir Sedir translating simply to Mother Magic. Maria's eyes widened comically at the sight of the ancient and arguably one of the most coveted texts in the world.
"I was seriously doubting you getting your hand on that book. I'm really glad you did though-" The sentence was interrupted by an inhuman sound of pure pain, only to be resumed just as quickly. "'-cause Plan B involved me keeling over and dying." Maria followed Narcissa with tired eyes as she pored over the book on the annoyingly low night stand.
"Well, we couldn't have that now could we?" Something in the blonds voice was strained, more than it should be, and her silvery eyes flitted nervously.
"What is it Cissa?" Maria asked her loyal friend. If something was enough to cause the unflappable Narcissa want to wring her hands in nervousness, there was a very large chance that it was something involving death and destruction.
"I know what ails you." Narcissa began carefully, making eye contact with her friend. She had to treat this situation beyond delicately. There was a solution, though it was far from ideal.
"Great, I don't care. Can you fix it, like, now? There's a human being waiting to crawl from my vagina, and it hurts." On cue, Maria let loose something between a growl and a yell, the hoarseness in her voice clearly audible now. "Oh this little fucker ain't waiting, either."
"Yes, well, the remedy for this situation is hardly a pleasant one. You will need to add a blood bonding ritual to Howard Stark and uh-"
"There's more!" Maria busted out in outrage. She was panting heavily and the news dropped upon her seemed to increase the stress of her birth tenfold.
"Yes there's more! Let me finish, uncouth wench." the words held no venom, but Maria took offense anyway. Before she could get a word of protest out, another contraction stopped her dead in her tracks.
"You must marry Howard with full blood rights, and bind your All-Speak and connection to Yggdrasil. That is the permanent fix. To get through the birth alive, you need to promise your soul to the army of the damned, and relinquish all rights to any place you might have had amongst the Valkyrie or the halls of Valhalla. The same is to be said for your son." Narcissa looked at Maria with teary eyes, and Maria returned her heartbroken stare with a teary one of her own.
She would have to sacrifice her and her sons soul to Hel. To the ever burning army of the damned. They would have to bear witness to the dregs of the universe, and play part in the most atrocious of massacres. Just to live past the day.
A lifetime for an eternity.
Would her son hate her should he ever find out? Would it truly be worth it?
"I Maghir the Interpreter relinquish all rights to the halls of Valhalla and to the ranks of the Valkyrie. I speak on behalf of my unborn son, Anthony Edward Stark, and say that he relinquishes all right to the halls of Valhalla and the ranks of Odin's Army. I give our willing souls to the Army of the damned, and bind my ties to the World Tree." The words were rushed and quiet. Maria crushed her eyelids together and let out a chocked sob. She felt as though she had lost it all.
Narcissa rushed to the foot of the bed with Maria's legs on either side of her. Frantic shouts of "Push!" accompanied by grueling sobs and screams filled the air for the next 2 minutes.
Finally, as Maria's head lolled to the side with exhaustion and her legs hit the red soaked bed, a beautiful baby boy cried pitifully in his god mothers arms. His innocence shined radiantly in the darkness that shrouded the Wizarding World.
"He's beautiful." Narcissa displayed the child fondly with shining eyes, holding him to Maria's eye level. The tiny body squirmed and mewled, his face covered still in goop and slime.
"That he is Cissa. Looks like his father. With his mothers eyes of course." Maria smiled tiredly at her son, but her eyes shone with pride and joy. Anthony looked at his mother with wide brown intelligent eyes framed with spectacularly thick eyelashes. A tuft of brown hair stood in disarray, and chubby cheeks displayed a healthy rouge. With a wave of her wand and a gentle healing spell, the babe was freshly cleaned.
"I'm afraid I don't have any of your things, and I cannot use magic to heal you, love." Narcissa said rocking the gradually quieting child in her arms.
"I know. I have something for that. My bag, by the window. Small pocket." Maria held her arms out for Anthony as she dictated the short directions. Without question, Narcissa placed the child in his mothers arms and gracefully walked over to the closed viridian curtains obscuring a bright and beautiful afternoon sun. The pale woman kneeled down and unzipped the small pocket on the side of the black duffel that the Dark Lord allowed Maria to use to carry her muggle clothing.
The only thing inside the pocket was a sphere about the size of an apple.
Narcissa extracted the object and gazed at it closely. It was an opaque lightshow of what looked like the cosmos, and the rays of light danced delicately through the smooth ball. It felt like glass, but no glass could contain such magic.
"What is this?" Crystal blue eyes peered at Maria questioningly as their owner straightened slowly, eyes flickering every 20 milliseconds to the mystical object.
Maria let out a breath and shifted baby Anthony in her arms. The brown haired boy wouldn't stop fussing, and constantly fidgeted and gurgled.
"Just give it here 'Cissa." Narcissa nodded and tore herself away from the otherworldly ball, still utterly transfixed of the colors within. Carefully she placed the sphere in Maria's open left palm, Anthony was tucked safely in the crook of her forearms.
"What is it?" Narcissa asked again, looking at Maria meaningfully. Maria looked back at her with a small, sad smile.
"Tell them I attacked you, that the labor wasn't as bad as it seemed. Don't worry, you'll look the part." Maria hugged Anthony closer and squeezed the sphere and whispered "heim".
The explosion was blinding.
It was a flurry of colors, of all densities and intensities. Green and aqua whipped outwards and knocked Narcissa on her bottom, and she screamed in pain and shock. She was quick to bring a delicate hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the blinding light enveloping her friend and godson. The youngest female Black had no idea of what was going on, and the intensity of the energy whirling throughout the room was nothing like she ever felt before.
It was light and free, unlike the refined magic that witches and wizards had become so accustomed to. The feeling of the otherworldly plasma brushing against her skin was enough to let her know that there was more, so much more, than what human kind believed. That the power that wizardkind thought was almighty was but child's play in the eyes of the divine.
It was what Maria felt every waking hour.
The power of Yggdrasil.
She would feel it no more, as she had bound her power and her ties. Narcissa almost wept in that moment, for the loss of such a beautiful thing.
With a final blinding flash, Narcissa was knocked into the far wall and all activity seized.
Barely, did the petite blond register the most fear inducing words she'd ever heard in her life.
"I want every one of my men looking for her, you hear? Find me Maria Stark now!"
Kveðja! I am sorry that this is not an actual update, but just an edit. It is my birthday, and I finally got my own laptop, so updates will hopefully be more frequent. Though, fanfiction isn't a chore, and I treat it accordingly. I'm pretty sure you guys understand :)
Well, anyway, I decided to flesh out this story way more than I had originally planned, and I'm quite happy with this edited chapter.
Farewell for now, a Supernatural marathon beckons me.