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Paracelsus, and Other Gauntly Matters	By : RestraintAbandoned Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 9000 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the Harry Potter world, or the Harry Potter characters. No money is being made from this fan fiction.

Chapter List
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AN:

I changed, and will probably continue to change, many things in the Tom Riddle era. Tom doesn't visit Morfin in the summer of 1943; he does in 1952, at age 25. He's Professor at Hogwarts, and will most likely use a different method to rise to power. I'm going to try and make this a longer, plot important story. Also, in case you can't tell, this will be cousin incest.

Prologue

A green eyed boy with jet black hair sat in his small cot, in a small and dark space. The boy idly flicked a lingering spider from his arm. The air was dust ridden and muggy. He didn’t live in the most charming of places.

The boy let his eyes slowly wander to the dim light at the edge of the loft. Down below he could hear Morfin's clumsy shuffling. The young wizard untangled thin limbs and stood, casually brushing a few cobwebs from his tattered robes.

Hadrian Gaunt made his way across groaning floorboards to the loft's ladder.

He stopped, surprised, at the sound of knocking at the door.

'A visitor? How odd.'

To say Morfin and Hadrian rarely had visitors would an understatement. His father and he were quite isolated in their little shack. They never got out. Well Hadrian supposed he did, but no one would know to look for him here.

The last time they had a visitor was many years ago. An Auror had questioned Morfin on a muggle attack, due to how close the attack had been to Little Hangleton, and his father's past record. His father had not been arrested. Did that mean he was innocent? Probably not…

Had Morfin attacked another muggle?

The boy couldn’t think of any other reason another soul would be at their front door. The muggles wouldn't dare. All the town of Little Hangleton knew never to venture too close to the little shack at the edge of the woods. The place where there was a monstrous old man and his beautiful child dwelled, whom spoke in tongues and practiced devilry.

"Who'd that be? Intrudin' on us." Morfin hissed grumpily from below. Cursing, Morfin made his way to the door, banging into the old worn furniture as he went. Hadrian ducked down into the shadows, and peeked over the ledge to get a good look at the door.

As the door opened dark magic flooded the small shack.

Hadrian's interest rose; he leaned forward a bit more. The figure wore a hooded cloak; leaving nothing visible.

"What do you want?" Morfin asked rather rudely. Unease crept through the boy. Could Morfin not feel the amount of dark power this stranger held? At the very least Morfin could be polite; at least until he knew the stranger's intentions.

"You are Marvolo Gaunt?" The stranger asked smoothly, appearing unconcerned at Morfin's rudeness.

"No. That’s my father. What you be wanting with 'im?" Morfin asked gruffly, sounding a tad confused.

Why would someone be looking for Grandfather? The boy had heard numerous stories of Marvolo Gaunt from Morfin. Hadrian would have to say Grandfather was most likely just as isolated, unpleasant, and unstable as his Father was. Didn’t seem the type to have contacts or friends. Not to mention, Marvolo passed away a number of years ago.

The figure stole through the doorway, uninvited. Hadrian watched as two pale, long fingered hands rose to the hood and unveiled the stranger's face.

Bright green eyes took in the handsome face with fascination. Tidy black hair, a strong jaw, slightly hollowed cheeks, aristocratic nose, and….red eyes? Red eyes with cat-like pupils. Oh, this man was absolutely tainted by the Dark Arts. The young boy was sure this wizard was actively practicing the blackest of the Dark Arts; much more immersed within them then Morfin could ever hope to be.

Crimson eyes roamed around their run down little shack. Disgust and disappointment was plainly seen upon those handsome features. As the man looked back to Morfin, his lips curled into a sneer.

It made Hadrian's hackles rise. Sure Morfin was completely hideous. His poor bow-eyed, hunched-back, rotted-toothed, filthy father. But it wasn’t Morfin's fault. His father was the victim of repeated inbreeding. Raised in poverty by the similar Marvolo, Morfin didn’t know any other way to live. Hadrian was thankful he got fresh blood and good looks from his Mother.

Morfin's reaction to seeing the stranger's face was one of anger. One dirt caked hand raised his wand. "Muggle Filth," He screamed. Could Morfin not feel the man's magic? Not see those very red eyes? Apparently not, for Morfin continued to rant, "Come to this house-"

"I am no Muggle," the stranger interrupted icily. The angry red gaze did not waver from Morfin.

His father's face calmed, small eyes examined the man curiously. "I thought you was that Muggle, you look mighty like that Muggle."¹

Come to think of it, Hadrian did think this man looked familiar.

The man's eyebrows arched slightly, as he asked," What Muggle?"

"That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in the big house over that way, you look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in 'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it…he come back, see."²

The dark wizard across from Morfin had a strange look in his eyes. The dark brows were furrowed; even the dark magic was angry. Their little shack was starting to feel cold to Hadrian.

"Riddle came back?" the man practically hissed out.

The green eyed boy wondered why that got a reaction out of the dark man. Why was he here in the first place, looking for Marvolo?

"Ar, he left her, and serves her right, marrying filth,"³ Morfin furiously continued slipping into parseltongue. "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off! Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's Locket? Dishonored us, she did, that little slut!" ⁴Getting that off his chest, his father calmed down. The boy noticed the red eyed man didn’t have any reaction to parseltongue.

Hadrian had a good idea of who this man could be. The man looked almost exactly like a younger, Muggle Tom Riddle. And he was a wizard. His Aunt Merope had ran off and married Tom Riddle. Oh, Could it be?

"And who're you, coming here and asking question's about all that? It's over, innit…It's over…"⁵

His poor, stupid father.

So this dark stranger was his cousin. Hadrian looked over his cousin with renewed interest. The man was staring at the Peverell ring on his father's finger; a greedy and hungry look on that pale face. Anger took hold of Hadrian.

That ring was his! The locket was meant for Merope's offspring. What else would his cousin try to steal from Hadrian? Hadrian was going to be the Heir of Gaunt, and eventually Slytherin; this new Slytherin bastard would not take that from him. And he would let the bastard know it.

Tearing his gaze away from the ring, the man replied to Morfin, "Nobody important. I am sorry to have taken your time." With that the man strode uncaringly past a confused Morfin.

Hadrian acted before he could reach the door. The boy slid down the ladder, and hissed loudly," So you're Aunt Merope's bastard?"

The man froze before slowly turning towards Hadrian. Crimson eyes locked with his green eyes. The boy felt breathless. Being at the other end of the man's searching, cutting gaze was overwhelming. Hadrian scowled at his reaction. The boy gathered as much confidence and grace he could, and walked to his father's side.

"Sister's bastard? This is my sister's bastard? That Muggle's son?" Morfin asked unbelievingly.

"Who are you?" The man hissed back, eyes never wavering from his own.

"Tell me your name, and I will tell you mine," as Hadrian spoke his hand shot out to grip his father's hand, possessively covering the ring. The boy sent a challenging glare to the tall man. His father gave him a surprised and uncomprehending look.

Crimson eyes lit with amusement as they slid to his hand. A wide smirk curled on that perfect face, and dark magic pushed and prodded at his own.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. And your own?"

Riddle's magic was playing odd games with his senses, the boy needed a clear mind. Hadrian irritably gathered his own magic and forcibly pushed the offending magic away. Riddle expression took on one of surprised delight. Red eyes were oddly bright as they looked Hadrian up and down.

"Hadrian Paracelsus Gaunt."

Riddle's eyes snapped back to his own. Hadrian barely noticed Morfin ranting on Merope dirtying and shaming the family, too trapped within in challenging red.

Riddle didn't seem willing to suffer through Morfin, and pulled his wand out, aiming it at Morfin; his sight still trained on Hadrian.

No, no one would raise their wand to his father. Lightening quick Hadrian had his wand pointed steadily Riddle.

"Don’t fret, Hadrian, I merely wish to speak to you without distraction."

Hadrian chanced a quick glace at his father. He looked spitting mad; gnarled, crooked hands brandished a wand. Murder was on Morfin's mind. The boy decided it would be best to deal with this situation without attempted murder on his father's part. With the immense amount of magic Riddle possessed, Morfin didn’t likely stand a chance.

Eyes trained on his cousin, the boy silently stunned his father, and gently lowered him to the grime covered floor.

"He is mine. As well as the ring, cousin. Slytherin's locket belongs to you; it was Merope's to pass on to you. The Peverell ring is my father's to pass to me; it is mine. And I am to be the Gaunt heir," Hadrian informed Riddle coolly.

A single well shaped brow quirked. "You think I am a threat to your title? You needn't worry. Why would I wish for the Gaunt title?" Riddle eyed Morfin as he spoke that. The dark wizard wore a cruel, condescending smile as the red eyes roamed around their dank filthy shack. "What possible reason could I have to ever wish to inherit from the House of Gaunt." the man hissed.

The green eyed boy bristled. Hadrian would not acknowledge the shame clawing up inside him. He had to defend his name. "The Gaunt name is a respectable old pureblood name. I dare say it's better then your filthy father's muggle name." Hadrian spat to the man.

Riddle's eyes narrowed and magic spiked with fury. He began to advance on Hadrian.

Hadrian supposed he could have left out the filthy father muggle name part. He really did need to learn to control his temper.

Riddle stopped mid step, and seemed to compose himself. "You look old enough to be enrolled in school…Which school do you attend?" Riddle asked face unreadable, and voice calm.

Well that was unexpected. Why would his cousin want to know that? Hadrian didn’t think it could do any harm to tell. "I don’t attend school. Morfin teaches me some magic. For the rest I teach myself."

A thoughtful look crossed his cousin's face. "Have you ever wished to attend Hogwarts, Hadrian? You would receive much better education, I'm sure," Riddle informed Hadrian, tone filled with arrogance. The dark wizard was staring up at Hadrian's loft.

It upset the boys nerves, knowing his cousin knew where he slept.

"No," Hadrian lied. He had wanted to, but Riddle didn’t need to know that. "My education is just fine."

"Doubtful. I believe Hogwarts will be good for you," Riddle said. It sounded more like the man was talking to himself then Hadrian.

How irritating this man was. Hadrian believed he was rather good at magic.

Riddle suddenly turned and walked gracefully to the door. "Keep your ring, child," Riddle spoke, not bothering to look at Hadrian.

"Child?" Hadrian spat. Riddle did not look much older then himself. Mid twenties, Hadrian would guess. While Hadrian was only fourteen, he didn’t believe he was a child compared to Riddle. And he certainly did not wish to be called a child by his smug, arsehole cousin.

The door creaked open, cold air floated in. Before exiting, the dark wizard turned to the boy, a wide smile on his face.

"I would much rather have you."

What? Sharp disbelief struck the boy. Hadrian had thought this man was threatening before, but Riddle seemed downright sinister now. That smile appeared twisted with malice. Those intense red eyes observed him with hunger; as a predator looks at its prey. Hadrian tried to calm his nerves, suppress his fear.

"I belong to myself as well," Hadrian growled.

A husky chuckle escaped Riddle's well shaped lips before the man left through the door; he didn’t spare Hadrian another glance.

Hadrian continued to stare at the open door long after his cousin had left. He couldn’t help but think his life was about to change drastically.

^1,2,3,4,5Are lines taken directly from Harry Potter and the Halfblood Prince(c) J K Rowling
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Paracelsus, and Other Gauntly Matters