The journey back to Britain was an endless agony, a succession of gray days and cold nights that tested my endurance and what little patience I had left in this miserable body.
Being Lord Voldemort and having to rely on stealth, hiding in freight wagons or moving through the dirtiest alleys of Europe to avoid international magic detectors was a constant humiliation. But necessary. My rudimentary body, this fragile thing of scaly skin and soft bones, would not withstand a long-distance apparition without disintegrating. So I had to endure the slow journey.
Something really difficult because of my not-so-pleasant company.
Peter Pettigrew is the living definition of mediocrity. The rat always walked hunched over, looking at his own shadow with terror and jumping every time a branch creaked or an owl hooted.
"Master, are you sure we can cross here?" Peter would squeak every two hours, wringing his hands. "The French Aurors are on alert... they say the controls are strict."
"Shut up, Wormtail," I would hiss from my shelter, wrapped in old blankets. "If anything happens, it will be your fault, so just be quiet."
If I had had my wand and my full body, I would have tortured him just to relieve my boredom and enjoy the silence. His constant doubt was an insult. Did he think that I, the Dark Lord, was so foolish as to not know where we had to go so that we wouldn't be captured? As always, his mind was weak, incapable of seeing the whole picture.
Fortunately, I had Nagini.
She was my sanctuary amid so much ineptitude. While Peter stumbled and hesitated, Nagini carried me in her arms with strength and delicacy. She held me against her chest, wrapping me in layers of blankets so that the cold of the European night would not freeze my body. She did not hesitate. She did not ask questions. She simply moved forward, her eyes scanning the horizon intently, ready to kill anyone who dared to look at the bundle she was carrying.
However, what I saw during our journey across the continent disturbed me... and enraged me.
Europe was tense, nervous.
In the wizards' taverns where we stopped briefly, in the whispers of the alleys of Paris and Berlin, there was only one topic of conversation. They were afraid.
"The Alliance," they murmured. "They're recruiting again. They say they've seen the symbol in the sky."
The followers of Gellert Grindelwald. The Alliance.
Grindelwald. That old failure. A man who had the world in his hands and let it slip away through weakness, through sentimentality toward Dumbledore. It was an insult that the wizarding world feared the ghosts of a wizard defeated half a century ago while ignoring that the true conqueror of death was crossing their borders. I am superior to Grindelwald. He sought a greater good; I seek absolute power. When I regain my strength, I will remind Europe who they should truly fear. The Alliance will burn just like the Order of the Phoenix.
That the world feared the resurgence of a ghost from the past instead of anticipating the return of the true Dark Lord was an insult to my greatness.
Enjoy your rumors about the Alliance, I thought with disdain as we crossed the English Channel in a Muggle fishing boat under a confounding spell. Because when I rise, Gellert Grindelwald will seem like a child playing with sticks compared to what I will bring.
Finally, the air changed. It became heavier, more humid. The smell of rain and wet earth welcomed me. We were in England.
The journey north was quicker. Peter, being on familiar ground, seemed a little less useless, guiding us across the fields towards Yorkshire. It was a moonless night, perfect for our return. Peter stopped, panting from the effort of climbing the slope, and pointed towards the valley below.
"There it is, my Lord," whispered the rat, "Little Hangleton."
Nagini held me in her arms so I could see better. The wind was blowing hard, rustling the tall grass in the nearby cemetery, but my eyes were fixed on the structure rising on the other hill.
There it stood.
I remembered it well. The "Riddle Mansion." The home of my disgusting Muggle father and his arrogant parents. The place where I committed my first murders to sever the ties that bound me to Muggle filth.
But the house I saw now was not an abandoned, ivy-covered relic.
Gaunt Manor, as Aurelian had renamed it, looked imposing. Even from a distance, I could feel the magical protections surrounding it. These were not simple Muggle-repelling spells, but barriers of war. The structure had been restored, its windows glowing with a faint light, and the wild landscaping had been tamed into something regal and menacing.
A crooked smile formed on my face.
Aurelian hadn't destroyed the legacy of my filthy Muggle father. He had taken what belonged to us by blood and turned it into a fortress worthy of a wizard.
"Look at that, Nagini," I whispered, feeling a surge of paternal pride warm my blood. "My son has put the name of the Gaunts... the name of Slytherin at the top, where it always should have been."
"It is beautiful, My Lord," Nagini replied softly.
I looked at Peter, who was trembling with anticipation and fear.
"Take us to the door, Wormtail," I ordered, pointing at the mansion with my deformed hand. "Let's not keep my son waiting."
The gravel path crunched under Peter's nervous feet and Nagini's elegant stride as we approached the main entrance.
I noticed the details. Aurelian had spared no expense. Flanking the enormous black oak doors were two colossal stone sculptures: two coiled basilisks, their jaws open, fangs bared, eyes made of emeralds that glowed faintly in the darkness, watching over anyone who dared to approach.
"Very good taste," I thought, feeling a twinge of satisfaction. "The supreme predator for the supreme house."
Before Peter's trembling hand could touch the silver snake-shaped knocker, the doors swung silently inward, revealing a house elf impeccably dressed in a black robe embroidered with silver.
"The master told Stinky to be on the lookout," squeaked the creature with a deep bow. "They might arrive tonight. Come in."
We entered the foyer. My eyes scanned the interior while Nagini shielded me from the wind. It was magnificent, no doubt. Black marble, floating chandeliers, and antique tapestries. But there was something... strange. The design and lighting had a... Muggle feel to it. It was like walking into the house of a non-magical billionaire playing at being a Lord.
"Where is he?" I asked, my weak voice echoing in the vast space.
"Here," replied a voice from above.
I looked up at the staircase. Expecting to see an impeccable Lord, wrapped in fine acromantula robes, radiating majesty, projecting power. But what I saw was a barefoot teenager, wearing black pajama pants and a loose white T-shirt, descending with exasperating slowness. In his hand he held a glass bottle with a bubbling black liquid inside.
Aurelian brought the bottle to his lips, took a long drink, and let out a sigh of satisfaction, followed by a yawn that he didn't bother to hide, scratching his chest.
"Ahh... Coca-Cola. The elixir of life," I heard him murmur.
I looked at him in disbelief. He was identical to me at that age. He had my cheekbones, my straight nose, my bearing. But his attitude... that indifference, that lack of seriousness... was somewhat disconcerting. Was this the political genius who dominated the minister?
Aurelian descended the last few steps, feeling the cold marble beneath his feet and the pleasant fizz of Coca-Cola in his throat. He had been up late reviewing the Blacks' books; the unexpected arrival of his "father" had interrupted his fascinating reading about blood curses.
He stopped in front of the strange trio.
His eyes scanned first the deformed, reddish creature in the woman's arms. It looked pathetic, fragile, like a huge fetus that refused to die. And yet, the eyes that looked at him showed unmistakable intelligence and malice.
"You look terrible, Dad," Aurelian said, smiling frankly. "Although I suppose it's better than being a specter."
His gaze shifted to Peter Pettigrew, who was trembling and covered in dirt from the road.
"Wormtail," Aurelian nodded with some surprise. "I didn't expect you so soon. Good work. I thought it would take you at least two more days to cross the border without getting caught."
"T-thank you... my Lord... you are very kind," whimpered Peter, cowering.
Finally, Aurelian fixed his gaze on the woman holding his father.
That he hadn't expected.
She was a woman of exotic beauty with Asian features, pale skin, and dark eyes that looked at him with a mixture of caution and respect. Aurelian frowned slightly. In his calculations, Voldemort should have arrived alone with Wormtail and the giant snake, Nagini. But there was no snake in sight, only this unknown woman carrying the Dark Lord with... tenderness?
"And who are you?" Aurelian asked, tilting his head with genuine curiosity.
The woman gave a small bow, without letting go of his father.
"I am Nagini, young Master," she replied in a soft, hissing voice.
Aurelian blinked, the bottle of Coca-Cola stopped halfway to his mouth.
"Nagini?" he repeated, incredulous. His eyes traveled from the woman to his father. "How did you meet my father?"
"She was a Maledictus," Voldemort's raspy voice interjected from her arms, sounding somewhat proud. "I broke the curse. I gave her back her human form."
Aurelian looked at his father with a newfound respect. Reversing such an advanced blood curse, especially in his deplorable state and without all his magical power, was a feat of the highest level.
"Impressive," Aurelian admitted, nodding to Nagini with a polite smile. "Then you are welcome, Nagini. It's a pleasant surprise."
Suddenly, Peter Pettigrew, unable to contain his excitement at seeing the two wizards reunited and talking civilly, dropped to his knees. Breaking the moment.
"Oh, by Merlin! It's a miracle!" Peter sobbed loudly, tears and snot running down his face. "The family reunited! The Master and his son together at last! It's fate! It's so beautiful..."
The sound of crying broke the calm of the hall, and the patience of both Gaunts ran out at the exact same moment.
"SHUT UP, WORMTAIL!" Aurelian and Voldemort shouted in unison.
Voldemort's voice and Aurelian's voice collided in the air, creating an echo that shook the windows. Peter choked on his own breath and slammed his forehead against the floor, instantly falling silent.
Aurelian and Voldemort looked at each other.
The silence stretched for a second, and then an amused smile curved Aurelian's lips.
"Well," Aurelian said with a small laugh, "I see we have something in common."
Voldemort smiled slightly.
"Stupidity is the only sin I cannot forgive, Aurelian. I'm glad to see you feel the same way."
Aurelian raised his bottle of Coca-Cola in a toast to the small, deformed creature.
"Welcome to Gaunt Manor, Dad. We have a lot to talk about."
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