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The Gods Of Mars	By : screamguy Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 794 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Prolouge : Umbilical Reflection
- 2-Chapter One : " No Need Of Him"
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- 2
This story is not about sex really, so if you're seeking that, go elsewhere.

The Gods Of Mars

Prolouge : "Umbilical Reflection"

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"The Gods Of Mars"

"A scarlet weeping lunar crescent

ascending omniously in the celestial sky

blotted out the sun's brilliant illumination

the day we two arrived.

The night that we were born

the stars shrieked aloud in agony

and unhinged Serephim tore out their hair

for the world had yet to know true tragedy

until our tiny mouths gasped labored breathes of air.

The Gods of Mars, foretold; descended from the heavens

soon all would quake and wail,

the bravest wizards of the lot

would gnash their teeth and pale." - ScreamGuy

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December 31st, 1926

Merope Gaunt swooned dangerously as she doubled over in pain, clenching her teeth together.

'Almost there,' she reassured herself anxiously. 'Just a few more steps...'

The homely witch gasped, letting out a a sob of pain as she weaved over to the iron gate. The building beyond appeared to be a muggle orphanage, clean and tidy, but something about the place was grim, absolute, in nature.

'Abandon all hope ye who enter here,' she thought gloomily, thinking of all the unclaimed orphans that were sleeping in the square building. And her child that was destined to join them.

She moaned, clasping her hands over her belly. There wasn't any more time...

This place would have to do. It wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Merope was surprised at the will of her baby, the child wasn't due until another week at least. The infant would be strong, like it's father.

Like it's father . . ...

Tom hadn't been able to handle the idea of being married to a witch when he wasn't under the influence of a love potion, hadn't been able to handle the idea of her.

And yet, the witch did not completely regret the trajectory of her choices that had led to this dismal outcome. Their time spent together had been a meaningless lie, as far as Tom was concerned, but for her it had not. She still vainly clung to those cheery memories of them together as a couple, when Tom would look upon her with utter adoration. No one had ever gazed upon her the way Tom had, no one had ever told her how beautiful her hair was when the light shined and hit it just right.

What was it the muggle man had said? ' You are as an angel my dear, your hair the halo that frames your lovely visage - and I the luckiest man in the world to behold of it.'

Such things he had told her, exquisite words that made her cheeks flush with joy to hear of them. Of course, he had spoken them under a cohersion of magical nature and in truth, he despised her completely.

When the love potion had faded, and yet his memories remained; then the muggle known as Tom Riddle had shone his true colours.

' I HATE YOU, YOU FILTH! YOU USED YOUR FOUL MAGIC TO BEGUILE ME!! I WOULD HAVE NEVER TOUCHED YOU OF MY OWN DESIRES! LOOK AT YOU!! HOW COULD I HAVE BEARED TO TOUCH SUCH A BEASTLY THING AS YOU?!' the 'real' Tom had shrieked at her, and when he had, he was no longer handsome.
His eyes had bulged madly as he screamed at her, his hair disheveled and spittle dripping down his chin. The way he had looked had made Merope think of a mad dog she'd once seen wandering the street next to her house, a unpredictable beast that needed to be put down.

He was a git, a right slimey git. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to scrub him out of her thoughts.

Tom Riddle was an awful man, so why did she still love him? Stupidity perhaps, or a hopeless reservation to crave the unattainable.

She rubbed her belly. She didn't want her child to be at all like Tom was, she didn't want her baby to become a monster.

Her child would never be like him! Never! Tom was not strong, he had run away from his problems, the baby . ... and
he had run away from her.

She didn't exactly blame him for it though, she had merely hoped that he might stay for the baby, but that was before Merope had discovered how horrible Tom Riddle truely was. He would not have stayed for the child, not in a million years.

'Like me,' she thought with forced resolve. 'My child will be strong like me.'

The witch took careful, decisive steps down the path that led to the stoop of the sanitary establishment, filled with a new determination.

When she reached the threshold, she fell to her knees, unable to fight against the labor pains any longer.

"Please," she cried out weakly in agony, "Someone.. help...." Merope tossed a large pebble at the door, and it hit dead on with a solid 'thunk'.

Just when she was beginning to lose all hope, she could hazily hear the door being opened, and then the voice of a stiff sounding woman above her remarking," My word...We're going to need some towels Janice! And a wash basin!"

The muggle woman known as Mrs. Cole bended down over the poor wench that lay upon the cold unwelcoming
ground.

"How long you think?" a plucky girl inquired from behind Mrs.Cole's sholder.

"Soon," Mrs.Cole answered snippily, holding out a hand backward over her shoulder for the ordered cloths.

It began to snow lightly, dots of white falling from the heavens.

"Oohh..." Merope moaned, feeling something wet and warm rush out between her legs. She didn't dare look.

"The head's cresting...." Mrs. Cole announced, her brows drawn together in concentration as she leaned over Merope. The young witch screamed uncontrollably, her legs spread wide apart as she strained to release her child from it's fleshy confinement.

" A bit more...." the muggle woman counseled over her spectacles, sweat trickling down Merope's forehead.

"Ahhhhh!" Merope shreaked, grinding her teeth as her nails slid against the doorstep.

"You can do it...."

The cool air was met with dead silence as the child slid out of the womb. Mrs.Cole frowned, finding it unnatural that the babe did not cry out when it was born.

Cleaning the blood from it's skin, Mrs.Cole thought to herself that the child was a bit on the scrawny side, with an oversized cranium. It was cute, but in an odd sort of way.

"Ooo!" the child cooed, staring up at Mrs. Cole with large green eyes. She noted with a glance between it's legs that the child was male. Mrs. Cole would come to find those eyes unsettling, with time.

There was a snip as the umbilical cord was severed, Mrs. Cole disposing of it without a second glance.

The young witch who had just given birth smiled dreamily, gazing lovingly at the small bundle that was held in Mrs. Cole's arms.

"It's a boy," Mrs. Cole remarked with the barest hint of a smile.

"Oh, let me hold him," Merope said softly, her eyes watering with unbridled affection.

The older woman gently handed her the small bundle, Merope smiling dreamily as she gazed down upon her son.

"My son," Merope murmured, knowing instantly what to name him. She still recalled the 'other' Tom, the one that had been kind.

"I'll call him Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle." Merope sighed wearily, her eyelids becoming heavier with every growing second.

"My son...." she breathed with a grin as she looked proudly at Mrs.Cole, " Do you see my son? He's beautiful."

"Yes he is," Mrs. Cole concurred with a small smile, dabbing the witch's brow with a damp cloth.

" My boy . . ." Merope whispered, the light in her eyes fading away.

Satisfied that her son had come safely out into the world, Merope Gaunt quietly, peacefully, died.

" Miss? Miss?" the worried voice of the girl Jaunice inquired shrilly, becoming more anxious as Merope's body became still. Nearing the moment of her demise, Merope had been satisfied beyond words, and now in death, the smile upon her face was captured eternally.

" I think she's gone," Janice whispered, her voice cracking.

Mrs. Cole looked sadly on her. "The poor dear, " she whispered, taking the child gently from his mother's grasp as if she were fearful to wake the dead.

"Oh wait, " Janice breathed, pointing one chubby finger,"Lookit!" They both turned their heads, as if expecting a troupe of purple apes to appear out of thin air.

"Is she still -? " Janice squeaked anxiously, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.

The muggle women held their breath, watching Merope's abdomen spasm sporadically as another small form came rushing out. He had a strong will to survive, to live, and that was why he had forced himself from the womb, when it became apparent that his mother would be of no help.

"Blimey, it's twins!" Mrs. Cole breathed, grasping the other male child as she washed and cut him free from his dead mother. "Imagine that....twins." she said incredulously, shaking her head.

The child that had fought his way out cried aloud as he felt the icy cool air upon his face for the first time. He hung there in the muggle's hands, shrieking and waving his tiny fists like a midget boxer as he thrashed his legs.

"Oh this one's a lively bloke!" Janice said with a merry laugh, trying to make light of the situation as she passed the headmistress more cloth to wrap the second infant.

The woman held one babe in each arm, and they both regarded one another like sparring partners getting ready for a match. The child on the left had a smaller skull, with wide blue eyes, the one on the right with the green eyes and larger cranium stared curiously at it's genetic counterpart.

They stared at one another for a brief period of time, inquisitive by nature.

Did they not recall that they had shared the womb together? Were they unable to recollect such imperceptable
memories? Perhaps the younger one begrudged the older for shoving him rudely aside in his haste to be born...

No, the gaze they shared was one that surpassed all spoken language, and all imagined comprehension. The twins shared a deep and innate connection to one another that would never be severed, and even in their infancy they could sense one another on some metaphysical level that was far beyond the precedented studies of such things.

Breaking the stillness, the blue eyed baby hiccuped, his whole body spasming with a jerk.

The other child gurgled in delight at this, apparently amused; bearing a toothless smile as he laughed at his brother.

The younger brother stared with giant orbs of confusion
at his brother, as if he were unable to believe his sibling found his actions to be humourous.

The blue eyed baby appeared dumbstruck at the other child's reaction initially, but then he too begun to gurgle and laugh, writhing his legs and smiling.

They were like that for some time, each chuckling and smiling at the other.

"Well, you can certainly tell they're related can't you?" Janice said to Mrs.Cole, though it was hardly a question.

Mrs. Cole didn't respond, frowning hard as she tried to recollect the the coroner's number.

The unfortunate woman who had died in child birth had barely the time to get aqquainted with her first born, and now she would never know of the second child that had followed.

It was a pity, but then that was life for you.

A right pity it was.

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Author's Notes: In case you were wondering, I am well aware that all babies are born with blue eyes. However, it was neccessary to have some kind of feature that I could use in their 'child chapters' so one would be able to discern the two. Since they are practically identical twins, one of the subtle differences being the size of their skulls, I decided to emphasize the eyes, to make their identities more obvious to those who are not so perceptive.
Also, I do not consider this story to be AU, since I am keeping the characters completely canon, and in my mind this reality could have been quite plausible, merely never mentioned, since Rowling leaves alot of gray areas for one to play with when it comes to Voldemort's past. I ignore the fact that she said Voldemort had no siblings. In my opinion, writers do not find stories, stories find them, or portions thereof. She was meant to write Potter's tale, and I was meant to write this one.
(I'm sure there were also alot of halfsiblings running around that were muggles sired by Tom Riddle.)
Given the circumstances of Tom's birth, it would be logical to assume if he had a brother, that the child would have followed him out of the womb, since Merope would never have named the second infant. Also, it would make further sense that Voldemort would be the older brother.
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The Gods Of Mars