A few days after the chaos that had erupted at Azkaban and the resounding success of the gala, the Gaunt Mansion had regained its usual peace and quiet.
Aurelian was in his office, sitting behind his desk. His quill moved swiftly and precisely, signing, rejecting, and reviewing a mountain of papers, contracts, and financial reports related to both the House of Gaunt and the new applications for Gauntcorp.
Miraculously, the office was quiet. Hestia and Flora weren't there to keep him company, smother him with hugs, or distract him from his duties. These days, the girls were completely immersed in the depths of the mansion's library. They were devouring all the tomes, grimoires, and dark scrolls that Aurelian had obtained thanks to his deal with Sirius Black a year earlier.
Aurelian paused his pen for a second. He smiled wryly and let out a faint, cold chuckle that echoed through the empty room, thinking of how incredibly foolish Sirius had been. The Animagus, blinded by his hatred for his own blood, had accepted a ridiculous deal and handed over to him all the millennia-old, dark, and magnificent knowledge accumulated by the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. And now, his future wives were arming themselves with that very knowledge.
With a small sigh of satisfaction, Aurelian set the quill aside. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes, and looked up at the wall in front of his desk.
There hung the imposing, ancient portrait of Salazar Slytherin.
His ancestor, dressed in majestic green and silver robes, was absentmindedly stroking the snake resting on his shoulders. Noticing his descendant's heavy, contemplative gaze, Salazar paused. His eyes studied Aurelian's face intently.
"What's the matter, boy?" Salazar asked, his raspy voice hissing slightly. "I can see it in your eyes. There's a shadow of frustration in your gaze that's unusual for you. Tell me."
Aurelian let out a long, heavy sigh as he rubbed his temples.
"Tell me something… Grandfather," Aurelian began, using the title by which he addressed him. "How exactly did you manage to become an Archmage?"
Salazar blinked a couple of times at the bluntness of the question. Then he let out a raspy laugh that made the snake in his portrait squirm uncomfortably.
"The truth? I don't know exactly," Salazar replied with a nostalgic smile. "In my day, things were very different. There were no textbooks on the evolution of the magical core, nor people who measured our power in some stupid way. We simply fought, survived, and adapted by creating new things."
Salazar leaned forward in his frame, his expression turning more serious.
"As you well know by now, Aurelian, one cannot simply force one's magic to evolve. You can't force a core to cross that barrier through sheer effort, theory, or stubbornness. It just… happens. It's a leap that occurs when you least expect it."
Aurelian scratched his cheek, clearly dissatisfied.
"With all due respect, that doesn't help me in the slightest," Aurelian replied, frowning. "I have the knowledge, I have immense magical reserves, but I'm still stuck at this invisible wall. Please, I need a method, not a philosophy lesson."
Salazar nodded slowly, acknowledging his descendant's frustration.
"It's true, my words aren't a magic formula, if you'll pardon the pun," conceded the Founder. "But if it's any comfort, in my experience—and that of the few who reached that level in my time—magic always responds to will. A strong emotion, an insurmountable desire to protect, to destroy, or to survive, is always an excellent catalyst for forcing the soul to expand."
Aurelian fell silent, processing the information. Strong emotions. He used to control his emotions most of the time, channeling them into logic and strategy. Perhaps that was the problem.
"I thank you for the conversation, Salazar," Aurelian murmured finally, standing up and adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.
He stepped out of his office, feeling the need for some fresh air. He walked through the mansion's hallways until he reached the doors leading to the backyard.
The day was surprisingly clear, with warm weather. Aurelian walked across the lawn, passing the green rosebushes and fountains, until he found what he was looking for.
Under the broad, cool shade of a massive tree, his father was sitting.
Voldemort, wearing robes far simpler and more comfortable than those he wore in public, had his eyes closed. He was leaning against the thick tree trunk, breathing rhythmically, in a state of deep meditation that years ago would have been unthinkable for the mad Dark Lord.
Aurelian approached with silent steps, but his father's magical sensitivity was impossible to evade.
Without opening his eyes, Voldemort spoke, his deep, calm voice mingling with the sound of leaves rustling in the wind.
"Do you need something, Aurelian?"
Aurelian stopped in front of him. He observed the serene face of the man who was on the verge of having the Ministry of Magic in his pocket.
Aurelian shrugged indifferently. He sank down onto the grass, sitting cross-legged right in front of his father, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Nothing," Aurelian replied with complete calm, closing his eyes as well to enjoy the breeze.
The silence beneath the oak tree's leafy branches was neither tense nor uncomfortable… it was a peace that both wizards rarely allowed themselves to experience.
For several minutes, father and son simply savored the tranquility of the moment, letting the warm breeze rustle the leaves above their heads.
Finally, Aurelian broke the silence.
"Dad," Aurelian began, without opening his eyes, "if you could see her again… what would you say to my mother?"
Voldemort opened his eyes slowly, revealing a mixture of sadness, regret, and resignation in his gaze.
"If I could see Elaine again," Voldemort murmured, his voice echoing through the space, "I'd tell her I'm sorry. I'd tell her I was a fool blinded by my ego and that I should have stayed by her side."
Aurelian let a small smile touch his lips.
Slowly, he closed his right hand into a fist. When he opened it again, a smooth black stone with a symbol engraved on its surface rested in his palm.
Voldemort recognized the gem instantly; it was the stone that had once adorned the Gaunt ring—the ring he himself had turned into a Horcrux decades ago.
"What is this stone for, Aurelian?" Voldemort asked, raising an eyebrow.
Aurelian let out a small laugh and turned the stone over in his fingers a couple of times.
"This stone is much more than just a family heirloom, Father," Aurelian replied.
The air beneath the tree seemed to grow cooler. A silvery, translucent mist began to swirl before them, slowly taking shape.
A moment later, Elaine Harper appeared.
She floated a few inches above the ground, radiating a soft glow. Her brown hair fell over her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled as always. Upon seeing Aurelian, a radiant, loving smile lit up her face.
"It's been a long time since you called me, my baby, " Elaine said comfortingly. "I'm so proud of you. I've seen everything you've accomplished."
Voldemort stood petrified. His eyes watched, completely incredulous, as the love of his life hovered over his son. He opened his mouth to speak, to say her name, but not a single sound came from his lips. His mind had gone silent.
Elaine looked away from Aurelian and finally noticed the figure sitting against the tree. Her smile vanished instantly, replaced by an expression of coldness and disappointment.
"Well, well. I see Tom is here with us too," Elaine remarked, her tone as sharp as ice.
Snapping out of his stupor, Voldemort leaned forward. He raised his hand and tried to touch her cheek, but his fingers passed right through Elaine's incorporeal form.
She dodged his attempt to touch her by leaning back slightly and looked at him with a deeply furrowed brow.
Voldemort lowered his hand, letting it fall heavily onto the grass. He bowed his head.
"I'm sorry, Elaine," Voldemort whispered, his voice trembling with remorse. "Please forgive me. I was blind. I should have stayed by your side... I should never have left you alone."
Voldemort raised his head, desperately seeking her gaze.
Elaine watched him for a long moment. The initial anger in her eyes softened slightly, giving way to a look of pity tinged with sarcasm.
"Well, Tom… I think it's a little too late to apologize for that, don't you think?" Elaine replied, crossing her arms.
"You're right," Voldemort conceded immediately, without trying to justify himself. "And I don't blame you at all for hating me. You have every right to do so."
The Dark Lord straightened up slightly. He looked her straight in the eyes and, with a sad but unwavering smile, confessed:
"But I want you to know that I've never stopped loving you, Elaine. You're the first thing I think of every morning when I wake up and the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep."
Elaine blinked, completely thrown off by the raw honesty of the confession. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. She lowered her hands, waving them nervously in front of her face.
"O-okay, that's enough! Stop, please!" stammered Elaine, clearly embarrassed but flattered, her facade of coolness crumbling.
Sitting off to the side on the grass, Aurelian couldn't help but smile broadly, watching with great amusement as his parents acted like two teenagers in love.
Elaine let out a long sigh, trying to regain her composure; she lowered her hands and looked at him tenderly.
"I never hated you, Tom," Elaine confessed, her tone turning intimate. "I was just disappointed. I was disappointed to see how you let madness devour the brilliant man I fell in love with."
She moved a little closer to him. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, sizing him up critically, noting that the hatred that had once dominated his aura had vanished. Then, a small smile curved her lips.
"You've changed," Elaine declared.
"That's true," Aurelian interjected from his spot, flashing a mocking smile. "He's no longer a genocidal madman hurling murderous curses at everything that moves."
Voldemort frowned. He reached out and pushed his head, ruffling his hair.
Aurelian burst out laughing at his father's grumpy attitude.
Elaine also burst into laughter. The sound was pure music to Tom's ears.
"It's so good to see you like this, Tommy," Elaine remarked affectionately.
Aurelian laughed even harder at the nickname. Elaine lifted her chin proudly.
"I liked calling him that," Elaine explained to her son with a nostalgic smile. "Whenever I called him Tommy, no matter how tough he tried to act, his ears would turn bright red."
Voldemort brought a hand to the back of his neck, feeling a bit flushed at the expose of his weaknesses, but he couldn't help but let out a laugh, letting himself be enveloped by the light of the woman he loved.
But the moment didn't last forever. Elaine lowered her hands and looked at Voldemort seriously.
"Listen to me carefully, Tom. I need you to promise me that you'll protect Aurelian," Elaine demanded, her voice firm as steel. "Promise me you won't let anything bad happen to him. From the afterlife, I can see everything that happens in this world. And I couldn't bear to see my son hurt… or worse, dead. I want him to have a long and good life."
Voldemort wiped the smile from his face. He brought his face close to hers.
"The boy is strong, Elaine. He's brilliant. Frankly, he doesn't need protection," Voldemort told her, brimming with pride. "But you have my word. If anything threatens his life, I myself will tear out their souls and burn their world to the ground."
Elaine smiled faintly at him, nodding, believing in his oath more than anything else.
Then, the tension seemed to leave her. Her expression turned mischievous, and she raised an accusing finger at him.
"You'd better, Tommy. Because I assure you, Death is absolutely furious with you," Elaine warned him, referring to his many ways of evading life's natural end.
Then she spun around, floating toward Aurelian, and smiled at her son in a way that made the young Lord's blood run a little cold.
"By the way, Death knows about you too, my baby, " Elaine revealed to Aurelian casually. "And she's told me she's very interested in meeting you."
Aurelian frowned, completely confused and alarmed by the information.
"Whenever I ask her why she's so interested, she simply replies that 'the time isn't right yet,' " Elaine added, shrugging.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out why an entity as vast and abstract as Death itself would have a particular interest in his son. Was it perhaps because of the stone?
But Elaine didn't want the visit to end like that. She smiled broadly and twirled in the air around them.
"But don't think too much about that now!" Elaine urged them, her face radiant with happiness. "I'm so happy to be with you two again."
For the next hour, they forgot their wars and ambitions. They talked, laughed, and were simply a family sitting in the shade of a tree.
When the stone's time came to an end, Elaine's figure began to grow more translucent. She gave them one last bright, loving smile before disappearing completely into the warm afternoon air.
Silence fell upon them once more.
Voldemort, with a peace of mind he hadn't felt in nearly twenty years, smiled warmly at his son.
"Thank you, Aurelian," Voldemort said softly. "Thank you for letting me see her one more time."
Aurelian put the Resurrection Stone away again. He shrugged, adopting a carefree posture.
"Whenever you want, Dad. It's no big deal."
Voldemort snorted through his nose, amused by his son's usual attitude of feigned indifference. He said nothing more. He simply rested his head against the tree's bark, smiling as he gazed at the blue sky, knowing that whatever happened, now… he had a family.
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