To be less than a spirit, less than the most petty ghost... that has been my punishment.
Since that night in the underground chambers of Hogwarts, when Quirinus Quirrell's useless vessel was reduced to ashes under Harry Potter's burning touch, I was forced to wander, all for the protection of that blood... of that damned witch Lily Potter, it was a poison that expelled me from my host, leaving me once again as a torn shadow, a vapor of consciousness floating in the immensity of the world, indifferent to everything and everyone around me.
I fled to the forests, to the continent, far from the civilization that feared and hated me.
My existence became a struggle every second. Without a body, my immense power as Archmage was reduced to a parasitic will. In order not to vanish into nothingness, I had to lower myself. I possessed snakes, badgers, any creature with a spark of life that I could devour. I felt their simple minds break under my weight, their bodies wither as I absorbed their life energy just to keep myself anchored to this earthly plane.
It was a pathetic existence. Utterly humiliating.
But even in the darkness of the Albanian forests, whispers reach you. Magic has its own ways of finding you, the news in the minds of the traveling magicians I assaulted before leaving them mad or dead.
And what I heard... what I saw in the fragments of stolen memories... reignited that something in me.
Aurelian, my son.
His name resonated throughout the magical world. He had achieved what I, in my impatience, had neglected: political power of his own. I heard how he healed the Longbottoms, a feat of healing and mental magic so advanced that even I had to pause and admire it.
He had become Lord Gaunt. He had reclaimed our lineage and polished it until it shone like a diamond.
When I saw his image in the mind of a wizard who had the misfortune of camping in my forest, I felt great pride. He looked so much like me. He had my strength, my charisma, my intellect. But there was something different in his eyes; they were just like his mother's. Aurelian was undoubtedly Elaine's son.
Elaine.
In the solitude of my exile and the absolute silence, the memory of Elaine is the only thing that torments me. The great Lord Voldemort feels small. He feels broken. Completely alone.
I do not regret my crimes. I do not regret killing, torturing, or seeking absolute power. The world belongs to those who have the strength to take it, and I am the strongest. I will never apologize for seeking greatness. But I was stupid. A damned, arrogant, and very stupid man.
I left her alone.
I close my non-existent eyes, and in the darkness of my mind, she appears with a clarity that hurts more than any curse or spell.
I remember her smile. Not the fearful smile my followers gave me, nor the fake smile of those who only sought to use my power. It was a smile that lit up my soul, a smile that said she knew and saw the Tom Riddle beneath the great and powerful Lord Voldemort... and even knowing what he was like, she loved me.
I remember her eyes. Eyes that looked at me with a love and tenderness that I, in my infinite stupidity, mistook for weakness. No one else has ever looked at me like that. No one. To the world, I am a demon or a dark king. To her... to her, I was simply hers.
I remember her skin. Oh Merlin, I remember her touch. The softness of her body against mine, the warmth of her breath on my neck, the way her hands could calm the chaotic storm that always raged inside me. She was my anchor. She was the only beautiful truth in a world full of lies and filth.
"I love you, Elaine."
That was all I could think about, it was a cry muffled in the void. I love her with a depth that terrifies me, with a possessiveness that transcends anything... But I abandoned that love. I denied it. I believed that affection was a shackle, that in order to fly towards divinity I had to let go of everything human. I walked away from her to conquer a world that, without her, seems gray and hollow.
If I could... if I had the power to tear the fabric of time. I wouldn't destroy my Horcruxes. I wouldn't stop my empire. I would just go back to that moment. To that last time I saw her. And instead of turning around and walking away to my "glorious destiny," I would have stayed. I would have taken her in my arms. I would have accepted her love.
I imagine a life that never was. A life where she is by my side, sitting on a throne next to mine. A life where Aurelian grows up watching us both, with his mother alive, beautiful and radiant, with a father teaching him the secrets of the universe. The three of us. A family ruling over everything, untouchable, eternal.
But she is dead. She died alone, protecting our son. Now I am nothing more than a parasite hiding in a foreign forest.
The agony of that loss is the only hell I fear.
I am the most powerful wizard in history. I have defeated death. But I would give every drop of my magic, every one of my titles, all the knowledge I have, just for one more minute to caress her face and tell her that I was a fool for not seeing that she was what I truly desired. The one thing I always wanted was... a family... someone to love me.
The wind howled through the trees, scattering my silent lament.
Aurelian is alive. He is proof that she existed, that I was once loved. And I swear that when I regain my true body, I will never make the same mistake again. I will protect what remains of her in our son. Because Lord Voldemort may be a heartless bastard, but the man who loved Elaine cries in the dark every night for the ghost of the woman he let go.
My reflections on the past were interrupted by the harsh reality of my present. I looked down at my own "hands." If you could call them that.
I was no longer just a shadow. Through abominable and very dark rituals that would make any ordinary wizard vomit, I had managed to build a vessel. It was a rudimentary body, a grotesque thing the size of a child, with scaly, reddish skin, weak and fragile. I could barely stand on my own, pain was my constant companion, but it was better than being just a drifting specter. I could touch. I could hold a wand, if I had one. Finally, after years of being nothing, I had a physical base from which to orchestrate my rise.
"Are you in pain, Master?" asked a soft, hissing voice beside me.
I looked up. A woman was kneeling beside me, offering me a bowl of food.
She was a woman of exotic beauty, with Asian features and eyes that retained a vertical glint, a remnant of the nightmare I had lived.
Her name was Nagini.
In my desperate search for strength to shape this body, while possessing the beasts of the forest, I had stumbled upon her. She was clearly no ordinary snake. She was a Maledictus. A human trapped in the form of a beast by an ancient and cruel blood curse, doomed to lose her humanity at some point forever.
Any other wizard would have seen her as a monster or a tool. But I am Lord Voldemort. I see what others ignore.
I felt her human soul screaming beneath the scales. Maybe driven by my own refusal to accept imposed destinies, or perhaps simply because I needed someone to help me, I did the impossible. I used my knowledge and strength as Archmage, pushed the dark magic that held her to its limits, and untangled the curse that was believed to be irreversible.
I restored her human form. I freed her from her cold-blooded prison.
"I'm fine, Nagini," I replied, my voice rasping from my underdeveloped throat. "I was just... thinking."
Nagini looked at me with an adoration that rivaled that which Bellatrix once had, though it was different. Nagini's was the gratitude of a freed slave, a loyalty born of a debt of life.
"It is thanks to you that I can breathe again," she whispered, stroking my misshapen head with... tenderness? I didn't quite understand it. "I promised to be your hands and feet until you regain your former glory, and I will fulfill that promise. No one will touch you while I live."
I nodded slightly, accepting his oath.
Suddenly, the sound of dry leaves crunching put us on alert. Nagini turned in an instant, her movements fluid, her eyes sharpening at the slightest movement.
Something small was running toward us through the undergrowth. A dirty, desperate creature. A fat rat.
The smell hit me before I saw it. It was a smell of fear, of cowardice. I recognized it instantly; it was the same magical signature I had felt crawling at my feet fifteen years ago.
"You!" I croaked, a wave of anger giving me sudden strength. "Vermin!"
The rat stopped dead in its tracks when it saw Nagini and then the thing she was carrying. It let out a high-pitched squeal upon recognizing him.
"Show yourself!" I commanded, my magic, though still weak, striking the air with authority.
The rat writhed and in the blink of an eye transformed.
Peter Pettigrew fell to his knees in the damp earth, sobbing with his hands clasped in a gesture of supplication. He was dirty, missing a finger, and shaking like a leaf in a storm.
"Master! Master!" Peter whimpered, crawling toward me, though Nagini hissed at him, warning him not to come too close. "He's alive! It's true! He's alive!"
I looked at him with utter contempt.
"Wormtail..." I hissed. "I see it took you twelve years to come looking for me. Your loyalty is as inspiring as ever."
"No, Master, please!" cried Peter, snot and tears mixing on his face. "I was afraid! I thought I was lost! But... but he told me."
Peter looked up, his eyes wide.
"The young Lord... he was right," he stammered, looking at me with a mixture of terror and amazement. "He knew you were alive! He sent me! He told me where to find you!"
My eyes narrowed. My heart, or whatever was beating in this deformed chest, skipped a beat.
"The young Lord?" I repeated dangerously. "Who are you talking about, Wormtail?"
"Your son!" Peter squealed. "Aurelian! He's identical to you, Master! He has your magic! He freed me! He told me to come find you and bring you home!"
A slow, terrible smile spread across my lipless face.
Aurelian. What could he possibly want with me?
"Explain yourself," I ordered, feeling a surge of renewed power. "Tell me every word my son said. If you omit a single detail, Nagini will have her dinner."
Peter Pettigrew, still trembling under my gaze and Nagini's presence.
"It was... it was at the Ministry, My Lord," he stammered, wringing his hands. "They were going to lock me up. They were going to give me the kiss. But he was there. The young Lord was watching everything."
Peter swallowed, his eyes recalling the terror he felt for Aurelian since their encounter at the Shrieking Shack.
"His voice... his voice entered my head. He broke my chains with his magic. He ordered me to run. He ordered me to come here. He said you were waiting, that he was weak, and that it was my duty to bring him back."
I listened to every word, savoring the description of my son's skill. Legilimency without a wand. Distance manipulation of magic. Complete control of the situation right under the Aurors' noses. Aurelian wasn't just strong. He was a master player.
A silence fell over the forest clearing. Nagini, who had been listening intently while finishing cleaning her master's mouth with a damp cloth, let out a soft, somewhat shy giggle, covering her mouth elegantly with one hand.
"The Master's son," she murmured in a sweet voice, looking respectfully down at Voldemort. "He must be someone extraordinary if he could orchestrate all that at such a young age." Nagini smiled, a smile full of gratitude. "I already wish to meet him, my lord. If he is your blood, it will be an honor to serve him as well, just as I serve you for saving me from that darkness."
Voldemort looked at his now loyal servant and then at the miserable rat at his feet.
"Enough talk," I decreed. "This forest has been my prison for too long. Prepare the transport, Wormtail. We will not rest until we set foot on English soil."
Peter raised his head, surprised.
"Right now, Master? But you are weak... the journey is long."
"I said now," Voldemort cut him off. His eyes glowed with impatience. "You will guide us."
Voldemort paused, staring intently at Peter.
"But tell me, where exactly are we going? What place did my son choose for the reunion?"
Peter shuddered and replied quickly.
"To Little Hangleton, my Lord," Peter replied. "To the Gaunt Manor."
A dry, cold, genuinely amused laugh burst from Voldemort's throat, echoing among the dark trees.
Little Hangleton. The place where his father's remains lay. His mother's birthplace. The village where the histories of the Riddles and the Gaunts were intertwined with blood and death.
"The Gaunt Manor," Voldemort repeated with satisfaction, imagining what his heir had prepared within those walls. "Very good, Aurelian. Very good."
Voldemort gestured to Nagini to lift him up. She hastened to help him, wrapping him in a thick cloak to hide his rudimentary form, treating him with the delicacy one would treat a porcelain figurine.
"Quickly, Wormtail. I have an appointment with my son."
------------------
I have a Patreon account. If you would like to support me, I would greatly appreciate it. You will be able to read up to 15 more chapters, listen to all chapters as audiobooks, and view images of the characters in the story for free. Thank you very much for reading my story :D
patreon.com/Daoistrg