#hpdabbles

[hpdabbles]

Draco Malfoy and The Book of Dreams

Draco Malfoy is beyond confused. He had spent nearly two decades searching for Helga Hufflepuff's hidden sanctuary.

Much like the Chamber of Secrets, it was believed to be a myth, but Draco had always thought it existed. Especially after Potter located the Chamber of Secrets, he realized the other three secret locations of the founders had to be out there.

Salazar Slyterins' Chamber of Secrets- contains a monster and Dark Arts.

Rowena Ravenclaw's Library of Myths- contains the grimoires of Old and Healing Arts.

Godric Gryffindor's Armory of Quests- Contains magical artifacts and Duelling Arts.

And finally, Helga Hufflepuff's Banquet Hall of Dreams- Contains the magic of fallen stars and Wish Magic.

Everyone always overlooked Helga's legend due to needing to understand the significance of her magic. Not Draco- he knew a spell that could grant wishes was powerful. Yes, they only worked once, but one chance was all needed.

The Wish Magic could unravel the very fabrics of the universe but only the parts the wisher had experienced personally. People often confused that with limitations- they wished for the dead to return only to get an Inferi. If they wanted to own the most gold in the world only to be cursed into turning everything they touch into gold.

No, what people needed was a wish that would place them in a position to change everything. If he got his hands on the magic of the Wishing Star, then Draco could undo everything the war had cost him.

He left home, scrambling around the world to find any record of Helga throughout history, including folk tales and rumors. His path was closely followed by British Aurors who thought he was up to something but he stayed three feet before them.

When he turned thirty-eight, he finally found a solid lead. Surprisingly it was in a small village in Wales. A young group of muggles sang the rhythm of Helga's wishing star while Draco had been passing the park and after a few questions, he learned it was a nursery rhythm passed down by locals.

He followed the origins of the nursery rhythm until he found a small ring of mushrooms glimmering in a deep forest. The Banquet Hall of Dreams was within the ring, Draco had found it.

Not a moment too late, as Potter had been dispatched to find Draco and bring him in for crimes he did not commit. Apparently, that same little village had been attacked by a magic user, slaughtering every resident in a crazed massacre.

The Ministry pointed fingers at Draco because he was a known Death Eater that had passed through that place a week prior.

The Wishing Star's magic had been placed in a book, bounded by Helga's magic, and all Draco had to do was open it and speak.

"I wish to travel back in time to the month before my first year, for my dream is to live a better life!"

The Wish Magic did not depend on the wording of the wisher. It formed from their dreams. And Draco dreamed of his first wand so often he could recite the day by heart.

The magic worked, and Draco was whisked away in a whirlwind of magic from the stars, landing in his eleven-year-old body with the Book of Dreams clutched in his little hand.

The book faded to dust as his wish was granted.

There were a lot of things he had planned on doing once he realized what had happened. He couldn't call himself a proper Slytherin if he didn't try to take advantage of the situation.

He had spent an entire month planning this. Locked away in his room, only leaving to eat, bathe, and relieve himself, he compiled piles and notes. He organized them by most likely to happen to least likely.

That ranged from anywhere to "Potter rejects his hand of friendship once more" to "Potter goes straight for the killing curse".

But none of these plans covered what was actually happening to him.

Draco had believed himself better than the previous wishers, and now he was paying for his hubris. Draco did dream of re-meeting Potter, had throughout his entire teenage career, more often than after the war, and those dreams lingered near his wish.

He had outgrown his feelings for the other boy, but he had more dreams centered around gaining Potter's affection than he had dreams about regaining his honor. Most of the time, as an adult, he only suffered nightmares.

They weren't desires. They weren't hope.

If you were to take every dream he's ever had, write it on parchment and then file it away with similar topics then you would have a very visble example of how much of his dreams were about Potter's affection.

Never mind, they were no longer applicable. The fact there were so many overall is what matters.

Logically he knows that those dreams outweighed the nonsense of his other dreams. Yet it was fair that the theme "Get Potter to realize I'm the prettiest boy alive" played through his subconscious mind it manifested this way.

"Wow," Ron Weasley gasps when Draco opens the door to their train compartment. "A boy Veela."

Good grief, the Wish Magic made him a veela and he didn't notice for a full month because he was busy trying to save his family. Now he understands why his parents worried about him walking out in public and why every student he passed by had stared at him with slack jaws.

He had been so used to being watched in the future he forgot it should have happened here.

Father's great-grandmother was a veela, and the man could still remember having to fight off seniors in his youth. Now he had to do it again but for his son. He was going white from stress as Draco boarded, and his mother was no better, placing multiple pieces of protective jewelry on him.

They had nearly homeschooled him because male veelas' allure was much more powerful than a female's. The males were rare, but rather than inspire lust- though many felt that way- Draco boosted inflation. People were literally falling in love with him while he walked by.

Like a stupid airborne love potion.

Potter looked at Draco and promptly declared himself in love with him. He fell to his knees before the blond boy, taking his hand and pressing a sloppy kiss to his knuckles as Weasley watched with wide eyes and a blushing face.

Draco's eye twitches.

He had outgrown Potter, and he would not chase after a forgotten crush. So despite the fact he promised himself he would be friends this time with the Golden Trio, he opened his mouth and said.

"Drop dead, Potter. I'm not interested in dating."

Now he had to live with this new first meeting. The Wishing Star only works once, after all.

But surely, the Chosen One would give up on him.

The thing is, Draco forgot just how determined Harry Potter could be. His new peaceful life may have just become difficult in a new way.

#hpdabbles #time travel #Draco Malfoy and the Book of Dreams #Aka Draco goes back in time only to become Hogwarts biggest heart breaker #Draco just wanted to be friends #Now he's fighting off sutiors with a stick #Harry is channeling James #Lucius malfoy is STRESSED #veela!draco

[limonium-anemos]

same age au where Tom, fully utilizing his "minion" network creates/spreads a prophecy in order to marry one (oblivious? i dont think so) Harry Potter.

It'll be easier to woo his crush if "Fate" says they are meant to be? Right?

#i was thinking about inventing paradoxes and hpdabbles snippet agdhjf when i posted this prompt in tror #its been 48 hrs and im still thinking abt it #tomarry #tom riddle big brain-ing himself #also i will simp for dilf tom #imagine pining for this long you grew gray hairs #tomarry prompt #limonium

[ironicallypresant]

Aesthetic for @hpdabbles “Unlikely Slytherine raising Harry” this is great and so far has 2 parts! It’s really interesting particularly because there’s nothing else out there really like it 😂

#harrypotteredit #harry potter #aestethic #fanfic eddit #hpdrabbles

[rboooks]

Do you have a blog or tag for all of your writings?

First of all, thank you for being interested in my sloppy writing. 

I don’t really have tags on this blog for my writings specifically all of them? I tend to tag them base on the title of the au but I do run other blogs that I throw writings into. 

I try to keep them in specifically one fandom/theme.

For One Piece:

@marcoacesabo  

@lawluheaven 

@spade-captain-ace  

@nariandrookierp 

For Miraculous Ladybug:

@miraculous-love-square  

For Harry Potter: 

@hpdabbles  

For Naruto:

@narutodabbles (this one is kinda dead)

If I post any writing on my main it’s usually cause it didn’t fit the theme/fandom of these blogs

#Yes I am aware I have too many #I am sorry #Anonymous

[hpdabbles]

Hey! Is there a chance to continue " jewel of wool's orphanage"?

Would the blacks find out about regulus and take him?

What would happen when he gets to Hogwarts?

When will reg find out that tom is actually Voldemort??

Life at Wool's Orphanage was better than Regulus thought. Yes, they had very little in earthly possessions, and the roof over their heads didn't keep the elements out as well as it should, but all in all, Regulus found that the dynamics were close to the Slytherin Common room.

Meaning he was excellent at handling his surroundings.

The first hurdle he conquered was the caregivers, specifically Ms. Cole, who held no sympathy for the children. He quickly realized that she chose to work in this institution because muggle women didn't have many options in the workforce, unlike the magical one, and she liked to be praised.

She glowed whenever someone mentioned how "brave" and "strong" she was for taking on the heavy burden of dealing with the worthless brats of society.

In the muggle world, orphans were seen in the same scorn light as Squibs were. They were to blame for their misfortune and would likely amount to nothing because of it too.

So the way to make her look better and gain her approval was to play up his physical age and publicly thank her for everything she did for him. He was careful to not come off as a boot licker, but before long, Regulus would join her in errands, sweetly telling the muggles who watched them how amazing it was to be saved by Ms. Cole.

His perfect mannerism was a product of Ms. Cole.

His perfect speech was a side effect of Ms. Cole.

Ms.Cole was the reason little Regulus was like a doll. And oh, how she adored the way muggles congratulated her for everything that made him.

If only he wasn't a pennyless orphan, Regulus would be the perfect young boy. The muggles whispered to each other as he held the door for others, smile sweetly, and followed Ms. Cole like a little duckling.

She adores that he did what she said and when she said it. Never noticing how strangely intelligent, he was for being able to keep up at the tender age of three. The rest of the caregivers quickly picked up he was one of her favorites- a majority were orphans who, upon aging out, returned after not making it out in the world and bitterly took jobs in the hell hole. They acted slowly but surely, treating him better to not earn the headmistress' wrath.

They all remembered what happened when the Headmistress of Wool's lost her temper and had the scars to prove it. It was better to treat Regulus like a naive little prince- likely thinking him too stupid to be of any actual harm.

Regulus knew this would cause the rest of the orphans at Wools to become bitter at the favoritism, just as the other Slytherins had been when he first joined the Quidditch team. In Slytherin, he had the House of Black to fall onto and keep himself safe from their jealous sneers but in Wool's, he had to make do with what he had.

That came in the form of carefully placed kindness.

The other children didn't have to steal from Regulus. No, the boy gave his things away but never without a price. He watched the children and saw what each could offer for trade and what they needed before the child realized it themselves.

For example, Billy, who clutched his pet rabbit as his only emotional support, did not notice his rabbit was growing too big and would need a new pen. He had given one of the older girls a stylish scarf, gifted to him by one of the nuns Ms. Cole likes to flaunt him in front of, in exchange for her large shoe box. He then filled it with newspaper, stuffed it with hay from the stable, and approached Billy, offering the "bunny bed" to the boy's delight.

They had never spoken before that, but it meant that his bunny bed seemed much more genuine. Billy happily placed his rabbit in the box and named facts about the animal while Regulus smiled and listened.

Not once did he tell Billy to shut up, roll his eyes, or make the boy feel stupid for his love of rabbits, and that endured him like no other to the muggle child.

Later when Regulus mentions how fantastic the ribbons that decorated his room are, Billy thinks nothing of giving some to him. He seemed unaware of the uneven trade because it wasn't in the other boy's mind.

The ribbons were Regulus' gift for being so thoughtful.

A gift he then used to make Sally's hair look spectacular for her school dance, his tiny fingers still able to do the hairdos of the aristocrats. When he convinced her to let him do her make-up, he had turned a dull girl into a beauty. She returned with a bright smile, a filled dance card, and a little surprise teddy bear as a thank you.

That toy found its way to a nine-month baby in the nursery, who had been struggling to fall asleep, keeping everyone up with her constant wailing. One well-placed teddy to hold and a sweet lullaby had her slumbering and, more importantly, making the nurse in charge of the room internally grateful.

Soon Regulus developed a reputation for being thoughtful. He listened to everyone, was kind to everyone, helped anyone, and he become a well-respected boy at the orphanage.

It also became an unwritten rule that Regulus was a neutral party. No one bothered him because he was on friendly terms with every clique and power. Of course, he wasn't a leader of anything, but the other kids would stand up for him if anyone tried to bully him.

After all, how could they be mean to Regulus? The boy is so kind.

He was always willing to help when needed, crafting the image of a harmless little pushover without anyone the wiser that he was carefully manipulating them to his advantage. Three years since his arrival, no one had noticed.

Well, nearly no one.

"Nuse Jane thought a box of chocolate would mean you come back to change diapers for her, didn't she?" Tom asked, placing Regulus in his lap and peering at the small box the head nursery nurse had passed him that morning with a wink. "No wonder she can't get anyone to marry her. She's stupid."

"She has her usages. Manipulation is not one of them." Regulus sighed, allowing the strange muggle-born to bury his nose in his hair and smile against his skull.

Since meeting that fateful night in the nursery, the two had been roommates and nearly inseparable.

Oh, others tried to pry them apart but accidents tended to happen to them not long after. It was no secret that Tom was the cause of them even if there was never any proof.

The fact that Regulus was the only one who could curve his violent outburst only further made him more liked to the rest of Wools.

He needed to figure out what to make of Tom.

The boy was gifted when it came to magic, ridiculously so, already having control over it far better than most adults.

The three wandless spells Regulus taught him were so easily mastered that Tom took it upon himself to learn different kinds independently. The scary part was that he succeeded, having uncovered Lumos and a color-changing charm on his own, after spending weeks concentrating enough.

What could he accomplish with proper training? With a wand? Obviously, Tom wouldn't go on to make much of a name for himself since Regulus could not recall a single Tom Riddle, but he was useful now.

If he was honest with himself, Regulus also liked having another wizard about, even if it was a muggle-born.

Tom seemed to adore showing Regulus his progress, but the time traveler noticed that the muggle-born treated him much like a toy. In Tom's eyes, Regulus was a shiny plaything, and he wasn't sure if that was healthy.

Tom's crush on him may be less so. But Regulus grew up in the House of Black- healthy relationships weren't common there, and he didn't mind the boy's feelings so much.

It was nice to be someone's obsession.

"Regulus!" Billy yells, breaking the peace by throwing open the door without knocking. At once, he felt Tom's magic swirl in displeasure, so he quickly leaned back into the boy and clamped a hand on the arms around his middle.

Tom settles again, but likely glaring at the intruder, who looks pale.

"What is it, Billy?" He asks carefully, making his voice soft but sharing his articulation. It usually makes the other orphans listen to him faster.

"You won't believe it," Billy says after a moment, his eyes wide. "A pair of men arrived claiming to be looking for you!"

"For me?" Regulus tilts his head. "Why?"

"They think they're your family! A mister Marius Black with his father, Cygnus Black, saw your picture in the Christmas choir and came as soon as they could. They're speaking to Ms. Cole now." Whatever fear of Tom quickly disappeared as Billy hastily threw open their closet, taking out Regulus' church clothes- the best he owned. "Quickly, you have to change! They may take you home with them if you can impress them enough."

For Merlin's sake, they found him? After putting so much effort into securing his place in Wool's Orphanage, the house of Black was trying to exploit him again?

"They're wrong," Tom hisses, his voice dipping into the perfect imitation of a snake. "Regulus is mine. He's not going anywhere."

"I'm comfortable with that," Regulus tells him, snuggling closer. Tom's silly crush is perfect in times like these. He blinks big eyes at the boy, whose cold expression slowly melts into a blush. "Will you hide me, Tom? I don't want to go away."

As predicted, Tom folds faster than wet paper. "We can hide you in the backyard shed. Hurry."

"But Regulus! Mr. Black could be your father. you could leave!" Billy protests, but the two are already running down the hall. Regulus' tiny six-year-old legs are no match for Tom's fast stride, and sadly that is his undoing.

"Regulus is Wool's jewel. The boy could do no wrong, I assure you, sirs- oh, here he is now!" Ms. Cole says when she rounds the corner with two men behind her. Tom skits to a stop before colliding with them, but Regulus is not as lucky, crashing into the legs of once great-grandfather Cygnus Black.

The worst part was that he landed on a magic stone the man was wearing as a ring. A stone meant to glow when near family magic. Likely a test to see if Marius has produced a magical child after all.

One he just unwillingly passed.

"Marius, my son, you have found my grandson." The aged man says, hiding the glowing ring before Ms. Cole or Tom sees it. The Squib's face lights up, kneeling to stare at Regulus like he is his salvation.

And Regulus is his salvation because being called son after being disowned meant the disownment was officially over. Marius has just earned his way back into the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

"Hello there, son. I've been looking for you everywhere." Marius says in a fatherly tone, and it's so different from how he had first sounded when his whore mother dropped him off on his doorsteps three years ago. It's upsetting.

He knows deep down that his body is still young, and he can not control all of his emotional outbursts because of it. The anger he feels for this squib trying to take advantage of him so their so-called family can give a flying crap about them is enough to have his magic's careful control slip.

He feels a tingle around his scalp and the three adults mouth's drop.

Ms. Cole gasps in horror. "What in the world?! "

A strand of hair falls into his eyes, and Regulus is about to push it out of the way when he notices an alarming change.

His hair is an angry red, not the raven black he has had all his life. Both of his lives.

"A metamorphmagus." Cygnus breaths, hand over his chest and smiling widely. "Marius, you sired a metamorphmagus."

For fuck's sake, Regulus did not want to deal with any of this.

#Hpdabbles #The Jewel of Wool's Orphanage #Part 3 #Harry Potter #Time travel #Regulus being a Slytherin #None of the kids are aware #Tom sees right through his Hufflepuff mask #The Black are back! #Regulus re-incarnated but not in his own body #Metamorphmagus Regulus

[hpdabbles]

Chains were my Home.

@ironicallypresant said:

Regulus turns James to the dark side and raises Harry 👀

Regulus smiles as Harry runs across the yard, a kite charmed to follow his toy wand as he waves it up and over. His son's laughter echoes through the green hills, overlapping with the wind blowing gently through the green trees and the dancing flowers.

It's nothing like the sound of the city where Regulus grew up. No muggles with their loud machine zooming by the street at odd hours, no constant rain downpouring, and no grey drop back to merry old London. Regulus adores their country home, colorful, bright, and utterly alone.

He leans back, closing his eyes, to feel the wind on his face enjoying their well-earned peace. He opens them to watch his son giggle to himself as he slashes the air with his toy, the kite following the movement only seconds after. Harry stops and runs back, squealing with laughter.

"He seems to be enjoying himself," James says with amusement. Regulus turns to watch his husband leave the kitchen carrying their lunch on a tray. It looks like some sandwiches and a large pitcher of juice. A few sheep made of broccoli are piled on one side of a plate- James' latest attempt to convince Harry to eat his vegetables.

Harry won't eat those. He'll just play farmer with them. Regulus thinks, amused but keeps that bit of information to himself. He instead sits up, curling his legs towards him on the lodging chair, as James quickly sits up a table for them. He's not wearing a shirt, and Regulus' eyes run appreciative over his body.

His eyes trace the Dark Mark on James' forearm before dropping to the add-ons chains that wrap around James' torso. He adores those chains and loves tracing them with his fingers and tongue when Harry sleeps because they are physical evidence that James is his.

James Potter's tattooed chains, which originate from the Dark Mark, are why he will never be able to step one foot off the ten acres of land the Dark Lord graciously let them live on. His son has a similar ward inked onto his skin, but Harry's originates from the collar-like band around his neck- a Mark all unpure blood must wear under Lord Voldemort's rule.

Harry is a half-blood due to his Mudblood mother, whom Regulus made disappear only hours after she gave birth to his son. She did put up one hell of a duel, but ultimately she had been too weak to fight him off, and she died in the hospital wing for new mothers.

As far as James knows, that magic-stealer died in childbirth, and while he struggled to love the cause of her so-called death- poor little Harry had to earn his father's love- Regulus had appeared to support him in his darkest time.

Turning him to the dark while he helped put James back together again made sense. He was everything the other man needed, and only a few sweet words had him seeing that Lord Voldemort was trying to save magic from the unpure.

Harry is unpure- a half-blood, so he had to be branded. Of course, Regulus took him in and made him a son rather than the slave other half-bloods were destined to be, but he always had a soft spot for his servants. It took James until Harry was five before he got over the child being the end of his wife and stopped glaring at the child. He even plays with him sometimes now.

It was only because Harry had started to copy Regulus that he finally saw his new pure-blooded partner in the miniature version of himself.

Regulus fought long and hard in the war, which meant he had some of the Dark Lord's ears. After killing his blood traitor of a brother and locating the hideout of the Order- a small group of resistance fighters Sirius had foolishly joined- he asked his great leader if he could retire to raise his family in peace.

Lord Voldemort allowed it under the condition James and Harry Potter would be cut off from the rest of the world. It suited Regulus just fine- at that point, James was a shell of who he once was, and Harry couldn't even form a sentence yet. He made the deal exchanging his ancestral home and all within it, was given this plot of land, and took his family to live in the countryside where the screams of war could not reach them.

Of course, he leaves it occasionally to attend Death Eater meetings, but with the fall of the ministry, there wasn't much who could stand in their way anymore.

His husband will never know what became of his once home- Regulus makes sure that he has no outside contact with the world. As far as James knew, the war still raged on and Regulus was bravely keeping them safe by venturing the battlefield for them. The chains were meant to hide and protect them, not keep them trapped there. He would die with that belief.

Regulus has killed for less after all.

(A few years later, he would wake to broken wards and his son stolen by the Boy-Who-Survives Neville Longbottom. Harry would break his heart, siding with Longbottom and ripping off his brand, snaring in his face that he would never be chained up again. James would be long dead, so at least he would not see their son become a bloody resistance fighter.)

#hpdabbles #Dark James #Dark Regulus #voldemort wins au #Regulus sees Harry as a son in a pet sort of way #James blames Harry for Lily death #Chains were my home Au #Regulus prompts

[hpdabbles]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51183412

OMG THANK YOU FOR THE FIC REC! THIS IS SO CUTE!!!

Tom is so obvious. I've read up to chapter 3 but I'm loving it!

#hpdabbles #mun speaks

[hpdabbles]

Omg!!!! I loved it! " jewel of wool's orphanage" is such an amazing idea, and I love that you made regulus a metamorphmagus! I know for a fact that he will abuse the hell out of that perk, just imagine him getting pissed at someone then turning into them and doing something bad to get them in trouble

Omg this is amazing!!

I don't wanna be too demanding but please

Part4! Part4! Part4! part4! part4! part4! part4!

They took his Doll away.

Tom is trying to remember what happened after Regulus' hair turned red but his recollection of the event is spotty.

He knows there was lots of screaming- done mainly by Mrs. Cole- and a bright flash that left him disorientated for a few hours. He recalled a strange word "Obliviate" before the flash, and he suspects it had something to do with his faulty memory.

Tom knows something happened, even if no one else in the orphanage can claim the same. None of them seem aware that they have all collectively lost their memories or that one of their own was taken by two men.

Men whose faces he can not describe or explain why they were looking for his Doll. If he thinks hard enough, he can make out some details, like one of them was in an expensive green and silver suit while the other wore one with a bunch of sewed patches.

A rich and poor man. What could such men want with Regulus? Why had they taken him?

He could even make out the shape of the chins and the noses, but any further than that gave him a splitting headache. He tried to ignore it, tried so hard to remember what the two men looked like, but the pain knocked him unconscious before he found any more clues.

Tom knows he launched himself at Regulus, clinging to the toddler while the kneeling man tried to lift the little boy in his arms. One of the men had thrown him on the ground, but not before Tom could scratch his arm until the man's arm bleed.

Tom had managed to snatch Regulus' arm and tried to free him. He can recall tiny feet kicking against the chest that had the six-year-old trap, but then an invisible force had thrown him to the wall at the far end of the hall.

There are holes, but he remembers watching Regulus' beautiful face break down in distress, a little hand reaching out to Tom as his hair turns a sorrowful blue.

Regulus' scream echoed the sound of Tom's head heading the bricks.

Mrs. Cole had already been lying on the ground by then- he's not sure when she stopped screaming or why she had been unconscious, but he didn't care. She never mattered to him.

What did matter was the little boy screaming for him, but Tom had been busy fighting the dark spots appearing in his sight to really do anything to help. He had tried to stand with his little strength; it just wasn't enough.

Regulus was crying, Tom thinks, tears of anger or sadness he couldn't really tell, as he stared at Tom in horror seconds before the man raised a stick, and the flash happened.

When Tom came to, his Doll was gone, and so were hours of his memory.

He's missing hours, about five.

Tom recalls having Regulus in his lap around ten that morning, then waking up in the hallway at three forty-seven with no idea how he got there and no idea why Mrs. Cole was napping a few feet away.

The two had been looking at something- a book? A toy?- someone had come into their room to warn them- what about? Who was the warning for?- And then the men in the hallway watching black strands turn ruby red.

Flashes of time with Regulus that fateful day but more is needed for Tom to find what is his and bring him home. It tormented Tom and kept him locked away in his room the following days as he tried to find Regulus.

He even tried asking around town to the places where Regulus was famous for making Mrs. Cole look good, but no one could remember him well. Those that did, started to forget detail rapidly as if they hadn't seen Regulus in years rather than the weeks he went missing.

By the two-month mark, Regulus had been completely forgotten by everyone but Tom. Fearing that the memory loss would affect him too. He had started to pin little notes along his wall, for any details of his Doll, just in case

Soon his room was covered in notes, memories, and drawings of Regulus. Every open spot had something to do with his Doll and his disappearance, leaving no room for decoration. He bought yarn to mark connections between his notes, zig-zagging all that. Tom had to duck and turn his head a certain way just to leave his room.

He only left it for food and his chores.

The worst part of this was that no one else was worried like Tom is.

None of the orphans or the staff seem to realize that Regulus was ever a part of the Wools.

Regulus was the jewel of the orphanage. The only good thing about this horrible place for three whole years.

Why were they all acting like he never existed? Billy still had the bunny bed Regulus made him, Sally still wore the ribbons in the same braids Regulus did for her, Nurse Jane still sang the same strange lullabies Regulus had made, and none of them could remember Regulus.

They all looked at him like he was insane for mentioning his missing roommate. There were harsh whispers about his room and the contents on the walls dedicated to a boy who didn't exist.

They thought him mad.

Tom didn't know what to do.

Maybe he was insane.

Billy had gently told him sometimes lonely people make up imaginary friends but that he wouldn't have to do that anymore. Billy, for some reason, wasn't scared of him anymore, even when Tom was mean to him on purpose.

The other orphan now looked at him with something far worse than fear- he looked at him with empathy.

Tom tried to reinstall fear into him in between breaks of looking for any clues on Regulus, but it never worked.

He would only hug Tom until the boy couldn't hold it in and broke into tears. He doesn't know why he cried so much. He just knows that every day that passed without Regulus felt like his chest was slowly caving in.

Billy told him it was grief, the kind he had felt the day his parents and sister burned in a mysterious fire, but Tom didn't want to accept this feeling as mourning.

Because if he was mourning, it meant he would never see Regulus again, which was unacceptable. Billy didn't mind, nodding and listening to Tom restating everything there was to know about Regulus for the twelfth time.

He sometimes spent the night in Tom's room, helping him pin up new color strings once Tom gained a new theory.

He would almost claim to like the rabbit pet owner if he didn't think Regulus was Tom's imaginary friend. Just a little.

A year later, when Tom finally lost hope of ever seeing his Doll again when he started to feel his memories slipping through his fingers like falling sand, a strange man came to the orphanage.

Albus Dumbledore looked at Tom's room, all strings leading to the word Men in strange suits and Obliviate cards in the middle before his eyes filled with sadness. "I'm sorry for your loss, my boy. It's never easy to lose love this way."

So it was true. Regulus was kidnapped by those men and likely killed. At least that is what the professor claimed as many magical children in the muggle world were being targetted by a man named Grindelwald in recent years

Apparently, he was a Dark Lord searching for something called  Obscurial, and he had taken children to try to force one of them into it. When they failed to become this being of power, Grindelwald had them killed.

The kidnapping that Tom described fit his preferred methods to a t.

Tom burst into tears and did not stop even when told he was a wizard. What was the point of him being magic when he still lost Regulus?

What point did life have any more? Professor Dumbledore promised that Tom would find the answer at Hogwarts, and even offered to ask his brother to take him in, until they were sure Wool's was safe from Grindelwald but Tom refused.

Wool's was all he had left of Regulus now.

Billy helped him make a grave for Regulus a day before he boarded the Hogwarts Express, and he swore to write to him. He was the only one to walk Tom to the train, so he allowed the other boy to hug him goodbye.

Tom was never one for faith, but he prayed Regulus would watch over Billy while he was away.

He also prayed Regulys would watch him put Grindelwald into the ground. Because he would be coming for that rat's head, and no one was going to get in his way.

His Doll would be avenged.

#hpdabbles #The jewel of Wool's orphanage #Part 3 #Memory charms #The charm may have done something to Tom's head #hp fanfcition #time travel #Tom and Billy friendship #Dumbledore may have made things worst #or better? #Tom's pov

[hpdabbles]

Breaking Routines and possible space-time laws

If there was one thing Regulus Black hated more than the unexpected, it was being caught unaware by the unexpected.

He has always been a creature of habit, following his routines since he was six, and because of that, he tended to be prepared more often than not for what the day brought. Unlike Sirius, who took control by his sheer stubborn will, he had no energy to confront things, choosing for life to just happen to him than the other way around.

This made people think he was soft, and maybe he was, but life was easy that way.

Simple. Easy. Predictable.

Just do as he is told, follow his routines, and not fail as a Black like Sirius.

Until the day he didn't, instead, Regulus broke his own routine, snuck to a zombie-infested lake, and got himself drowned for his troubles. He would have hoped that would have been the end of it, but no, magic had other plans.

These plans included throwing his lazy and apathetic soul a few years back in time, landing right into his first-year body, seconds from the Sorting hat being placed on his head.

Now Regulus could ask the hat to place him in a new house, but why change something not broken? It's not like he had changed all that much in the last six years.

Despite the Sorting Hat's soft mumbles of time-traveler, strange child, and Clever little thing, there was no real change to his sorting. Even the time it took- a minute and six seconds- was the same.

"Slytherin!" It yelled at the clapping of his new housemates. He stood in a graceful, fluid motion, one he picked up after years of Death Eater meetings, only to realize as he descended the little stairs that he had tripped the first time.

The thought strikes him in place, catching the student body's attention. Slowly his gaze went over every student, the memory of their laughter at his eleven-year-old clumsiness playing in his head, overlapping with the confused but intrigued gazes staring back.

They look as if they are waiting for something. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what. That is until he straightened his shoulders out of habit and noticed a few follow suit.

Regulus had subconsciously made his body language follow what he would usually do at the beginning of Death Eater meetings, where he would call everyone's attention to start. He hated starting late- it threw off his whole day.

Regulus hadn't meant to stop altogether, but it now appears as if he had done so to make an announcement for even Professor McGonagall paused with calling out names.

His gaze- which he knew now that he was thinking about it- was jaded, and serious, portraying someone who carefully spoke and meant what he said, danced over the students until they locked with a similar pair.

Sirius's face is clouded over, pulled into that familiar jealous sneer. How many years had it been since he had seen a positive emotion on his brother's face? Regulus thinks it hasn't been since before they went to Hogwarts.

Sirius glare used to make him flinch, a lot like their mothers, so he's surprised to discover it has little effect now.

Honestly, why did his face twist like that? Sirius looks constipated. He snorts, unable to fight it, and it makes thirteen-year-old Sirius turn an alarming red color.

Ha, he looks like an angry little cruppy.

The only other person who was that amusing when angry with Regulus is-oh.

Regulus' eyes swing away to land on Severus Snape, his one somewhat friend, who has yet to allow Regulus to wash his hair. Goodness, the boy looks like a drowned rat, in ill-fitting robes hunched over a potion's books.

One hand is holding a black mug, obviously too engrossed with his reading to be drinking it properly.

He seems unaware that his drink has been tampered with. Regulus can tell by the strange vapor steaming out of it- just the tad bit of blue tint to the otherwise gray smoke. After years of watching Severus drink coffee and years of the man being completely paranoid about his food, Regulus knows this is his brother's work.

He narrows his eyes. Usually, Regulus wouldn't care, but Severus had been the only one who had been nice- er tolerant of him back before he grew indifferent to people's dislike of him.

Regulus always owes the older boy for all the years he shielded him from the scorn of their housemates.

A proper Slytherin always repays a debt.

Snapping his fingers, the mug is ripped out of the started third-year's hold, who shouts "hey!" sailing across the room into his waiting hand. The dining hall sucks in a gasp. A summoning spell is not uncommon, but a summoning spell casted wandless, wordlessly, and by a first year?

That was alarming.

Regulus looks into the mug with a frown, watching the slight blue flicker from the mild brown of the coffee. Severus always took his coffee with two spoons of sugar and more milk than he actually needed. He returns back to the crowd, channeling Kreacher in the best-disappointed expression he can make.

He had been given the position of disciplinary officer for Death Eaters, by the Dark Lord himself, and the reason was simple. Regulus just treated full-grown deadly adults like misbehaving toddlers. "One of you put something in his drink. Who was it?"

A few mumbles break through the hall but not loud enough for Regulus to hear properly. His frown depends. "I'm not mad, just disappointed. This is not the proper behavior of young witches or wizards."

Again no one speaks out, which makes him sigh. "Alright, if no one is going to answer, I have to punish you all. Until the delinquent comes forth, there will be no coffee for anyone."

With a snap of his fingers- a quick flash of his magic to the kitchens- all coffee pots and mugs are gone from the tables. Shouts of displeasure rise, but Regulus shakes his head. "I know you all saw whoever did this put it in, Mister-?"

"Um, Snape. My name is Severus Snape"

"In Mister Snape's drink and did nothing. So now you get nothing. It is not polite to allow acts of bullying. I expect better of you" He clicks his tongue, vanishing the mug he holds, and struts to Snape's side. "Anyone bothers this kid is dead."

"Why?" Lucious asks in an amused voice. The Malfoy has always been rather easy to entertain when he made a show of punishing someone.

"Because he is mine," Regulus announces, throwing an arm around the started Snape. He fights the urge to wrinkle his nose as the slightly unpleasant smell comes off the boy. It's okay, they will give him a proper shower later. "I like his face. He's got a really nice face."

"Ugh.." Snape starts, but Regulus ignores him.

"Anyway, that's all I wanted to say. Professor, please continue with the sorting." Regulus shouts back at Professor McGonagall, who is eying him with wary amusement as he sits practically in Severus' lap.

He does it mostly to watch Severus turn that amusing shade of red, but unlike before, where the red would be in anger, it's....flustered right now?

Oh, Regulus thinks with sparkling eyes watching the other try to hide behind his hair Making Severus blush is really fun. This could be my new routine.

#Hpdabbles #Harry Potter #Breaking Routines and possible space-time laws au #Time Travel #Regulus/Severus

[hpdabbles]

Living Nightmares

There weren't many things Sirius expected to happen to him on a late Tuesday afternoon behind the walls of his childhood house, but finally losing his mind was not one of them.

He knew, logically, that he couldn't have gotten away from Azkaban without leaving behind bits of his sanity. For all the years he spent in that hellhole, Sirius is one of the lucky ones to have his psychotic break happen months after his escape.

He sighs, raising his bottle in a mockery of a toss at the image of his dead brother that just stumbled out of Regulus' old room, looking like no day has passed since his death.

It figures his mind chooses his little brother to torment him.

It must be because he came back to Grimmauld. Otherwise, Sirius thinks he needs to see Regulus. They hadn't been close towards the end even if regrets still eat at him from time to time.

"Who are you?" His brother sounds young. Then again, Sirius supposed Regulus never had the chance to have sound any other way.

Sirius tilts his head back, taking a long swing of the bottle. The liquor burns on its way down. A terrible side effect of forced sobriety that being locked up brought. Everything burns on the way down nowadays.

His brother comes closer, frowning heavily at him. "What are you doing here?"

Sirius ignores him, taking another long sip of his bottle. He misses his mouth, and the alcohol drips down his chin, splashing on his shirt collar. He swears, knowing the moment Molly sees- or instead smells him- she'll throw another long rant about how Sirius is unfit to care for Harry.

"Are you a Black?" Regulus asks, falling to a knee and squinting at him.

Sirius laughs, finding his hallucination asking such a stupid question he doesn't know what else to do. He laughs so hard his sides ache, his whole body shakes, and Sirius drops his bottle, not caring that it rolls away, spilling everything as it does.

Then his laughter breaks into pathetic sobs as he rocks back and forth when he sees his brother's alarmed face.

Regulus opens, then closes his mouth until he finally whispers enduring sounds. He was too gentle, always too gentle, but never strong enough to stand up for himself and leave this miserable place. "Is there someone I can call for you?"

"You're not real." Sirius manages to gasp.

"I beg your pardon?" Regulus asks.

"You're not real. I see things. You're one of them." Sirius tells his brother, fumbling blindly on the carpet for his bottle, wanting his mind too numb enough that Regulus will disappear. He wonders why he thought getting drunk in the hallway outside his brother's room was a good idea in the first place.

Of course, the floor here is the comfortest, but it's not worth it anymore. Sirius supposes he'll have to fund a new haunt.

"I can assure you I am real." The Hallucination says, which makes Sirius snort wetly.

"You are not."

"Uncle, I am not sure what has happened, but I can help if you allow me to," Regulus says, reaching down for his arm and helping him to his feet. Sirius laughs again, leaning heavily onto him.

"I'm your uncle now?"

"You are obviously a Black. I assume you are Uncle Marius or related to him." Regulus leads him down the hallway, careful to ensure Sirius doesn't slam against the walls with all his stumbling. He can appreciate that.

"Marius was a squib." Sirius tells him, blinking his eyes to get the shapes to stay still. "The Ancient and Noble House of Black doesn't want any squibs in it."

"I'm the head of the house now. I decide what the House of Black will and will not accept. You are a Black, magic or no magic. " Regulus calmly replies. Before Sirius can tell the hallucination, it's making a terrible impression of Regulus with its strangely accepting views; they round the corner and come across Remus.

Most likely, his ex-lover was sent to look for him. The others can't bring themselves to look Sirius in the eye after seeing what he's become. They are a bunch of cowards, but at least the Order is smart enough to not sent Harry for him.

He isn't sure he could handle his godson seeing him like this. This pathetic state of a man who could never correctly care for him.

"Who are you!?" Remus snares, pointing his wand at Regulus, who only blinks at him. Sirius swallows around the lump in his throat now knowing they haven't sent anyone for him at all.

If Remus can see Regulus, this isn't Remus, either. Just another hallucination his treachours mind came up with. Maybe one that still loves him.

He lost his mind, so he blurts nonsense, encouraged by the alcohol cursing through his veins.

"Darling, look who I found. It's little Regulus! We can raise him as our son and ensure he marries someone who loves him the same way we love each other! We can be a big happy family! " He tells Remus, heartbreaking at how those hazel eyes flicker to him in barely concealed alarm. "A big happy family where nothing went wrong! You, me, and a child. A house on a grass hill. We grew old together, and no one died! No one died, and we're all so happy together!"

He's crying, but Sirius can't stop talking, describing their imaginary child, their house, and the wonderful past twelve years that he wishes so hard weren't made up. Remus looks frozen in horror, his eyes filling with tears, but it doesn't matter if he's sad.

Remus isn't real. None of this is. Sirius is probably still sitting outside of Regulus' room drinking himself into a grave. Or worse, he's still at Azkaban talking to the stone bricks of his cell.

Regulus makes a slight noise of pain. "I see now what has happened, Uncle."

He turns to Remus, speaking in a soft low voice. "I'm sorry for the loss of your child, sir. Would you help me move your husband to one of our guest rooms? I believe he needs to lie down."

Remus responds by shooting a hex at Regulus, who can only yelp before he drops to the ground like a bag of bricks. Sirius falls with him, still mumbling about their garden- it has a Quidditch Pitch in the backyard so they can play when James comes over-, and Remus stares down at them, chest heaving with gasping breaths.

Then Remus is screaming. No words, just terrible sounds of agony, the likes of which sound close to his wolf, tearing his skin apart. Sirius finally stops talking, watching his Remus Hallucination fall apart in front of him.

Harry and all his friends come running down the hallway shouting Sirius' name, but he can't really hear them. He's too busy trying to stay awake when Remus shoots him with a sleeping spell.

It's a small mercy.

Now Sirius doesn't have to deal with the fact he was seeing such terrible things for the past ten minutes. Hopefully, when he wakes, all he'll have is a terrible headache and not be back in his cell.

He doesn't think he'll survive if his escape is just one big Hallucination.

#Hpdabbles #Harry Potter #time travel #angst #PTSD #Drinking #Hallucination #mistaken identity #Remus realizes he may have lost Sirius in a way he can never recover #Wolfstar angst

[hpdabbles]

Can u do an identity reveal of Harry from 'how to break a timeline ', potters or Reg noticing how similar bby Harry (as he grows) looks to our Harry, how bby Harry instantly calms down with Harry nearby. No pressure to write tho, I'm just too invested in it😅

Regulus always wondered about his husband's past. He hasn't learned anything about it, even after all the years they have been married.

Their tenth anniversary was next week, and he still did not know Harry by anything but his married name. Though privately, he always suspected it was Potter. His love looked far too much like the Potters to not be one.

Harry is redundant to speak about his past, but Regulus knows if he asked, Harry would tell him. He just...never found the time.

The war took first priority because their marriage had been built on Harry needing a legal way to take down Voldemort. Then it was stabilizing the family's image without taking credit for the Dark Lord's defeat- apparently, Harry claimed nothing good could come from being famous for taking down the dark lord.

After that, it was fixing his relationship with his brother, rebuilding Uncle Alphard's company, and finally caring for his brother's godson.

They stayed busy, Harry like a hurricane moving from one place to the other with no warning and leaving chaos in his wake. Regulus followed him everywhere, awed by his husband and falling just a little deeper in love every time.

To try and tie someone like that down by something as unimportant as a mysterious past would be a crime.

It hardly matters to Regulus on most days, being too darn happy with his love, but he will admit his Slytherin mind kept him wondering at night.

He had some theories.

Harry is an illegitimate Potter child. Hidden by his muggle mother to protect him from his magical family. Maybe she thought they would hurt him even though the Potters were known for supporting such children.

Harry is a Seer. He saw what would happen, but unlike most seers, he didn't believe in letting things be. Harry would carve his own future. He also seemed to know far too much, even if he claimed he had always been able to figure out secrets.

Harry is the Dark Lord's son. His Parselmouth appearance and magic were similar to Voldemort's. Again he knew far too much to not have a fair warning of how Voldemort worked.

Harry is magic personified. His husband is a wonder in far too many ways not to somehow be a blessing of magic. Magically powerful, beautiful, intelligent, and confused by humans' customs. Harry stumbled a lot over slang used by his fellow humans, and some mannerisms made his nose wrinkle.

He had never spoken about these theories with Harry; somehow, they felt both too personal and unimportant to breach the subject with him. But Regulus watched, recorded what he saw, and then filed the evidence for each theory deep within his mind.

Regulus leaned more toward theories two and three for various reasons. The more he got used to Harry, the more he felt that his husband lived in a different time.

Little references to things that did not exist, only to be surprised when they are introduced to the world a year or two later, made-up slang that grew popular but not by Harry, and sometimes just actions that made Regulus feel like there was a generational gap between them despite Harry insisting on his age being the same as Regulus.

"Love, can I ask you something?" Regulus whispers, careful not to be too loud least he wakes Little Harry.

If someone would have told him ten years ago that Regulus would regularly be babysitting for James Potter, he would have laughed in their face. Now he is mindful of the ten-year-old comfortably snoozing on his husband's chest. The child had fallen asleep while Harry read to him the story of the Mask Hero, defeater of He Should Not Be Named.

Harry's bright green eyes swing to him from over the little head with a raised brow. "Hmm?"

For a moment, Regulus forgets why he called out to him, suddenly struck by the image of his husband cuddling a child that could be a miniature copy of him, and he wonders if they should try for a child soon.

Harry could carry, or they could adopt. Regulus would be happy with either.

"What's up Regs?" Harry asks in that strange but endearing way of talking.

"Would you like a child?" He blurts without meaning to and has the pleasure of watching his normally hard-to-tease husband turn bright red.

"Wha-what brought this on?" Harry asks while carefully retucking the blanket around Little Harry more. Regulus' heart skips a beat.

"I just realized that you would be a great father. You act like one already to Little Harry, knowing what he needs, what makes him happy, and you two look so alike it isn't hard to picture-!" Regulus snaps his mouth shut as his words register in his mind. "You look alike. Your magic is the same....Merlin...Harry, are you Little Harry?!"

There is a pause where the two stare at each other. The fire in the fireplace cracks in silence, and only Little Harry's tiny mumbles- he sleeps talks- could be heard. His question hangs in the air, choking him in suspense as suddenly everything makes so much sense, but at the same time, nothing does.

Suddenly Harry grins, mischief and death dancing around his lips, and Regulus falls again. "You really are the brightest wizard of your time. Yeah, Regs, I'm Harry Potter from an alternative time Line."

Regulus chuckles nervously, and then his eyes roll back into his head. Harry's urgent call of his name is the last thing he hears as he gives into his shock and falls unconscious.

Life is never dull when Harry Black- apparently nee Potter is around.

#How to break a timeline #Regulus/Harry #hpdabbles #Harry Potter #Little Harry known for years #He just likes naps #Story time is also Cuddle time in the Black household #Mentions of Mpreg

[hpdabbles]

'The Jewel of Wool’s Orphanage', how old is Tom in this? How's he going to react to another like him?

Tom's seveth birthday was the turning point of his life. He had never gotten a present or had his birthday celebrated but he knew he was born that day because the caregivers would always remind him.

The reminder was merely meant to be a count down to his eighteen birthday when they would no longer have to care for him. Tom didn't mind. He was counting down to that day too.

Yet that year, Tom received a present and it changed his whole world.

Maybe the universe thought Tom deserved something special because he was special and sent him Regulus.

Regulus arrived the morning of his seveth birthday, with the few other orphans that were picked off the street by the collection unit. He was the quitest of the children, the smallest too and Tom had watched them unload from his room, mentally marking which ones would be the easist targets.

Regulus had been one of the first he marked because the boy was holding the hand of a sobbing girl, trying his best to comfort her. His emotions were a weakness along with his age, a toddler with soft wavey hair and chubby cheeks.

He was much more taken care of than the too-thin sobbing girl and Tom scoffed.

He knew Sofia was going to get caught, as despite her many attempts at running the girl was much too stupid to escape and each time her punishment would be worse. The scars on her arm should have taught her it was hopeless for someone normal like her.

Tom also knew she would disappear soon, so he should try to run by her room and steal her blanket when he got the chance. Troublemakers like her often got taken care of and he would have been one of them if it wasn't for bad things happening to people who tried.

The fact he had his own room, cramped and dark as it was, is because Tom can do very strange things. Wonderful things. And Sofia couldn't, so she be another child that would be lost in the system and body found in some unmarked grave.

Regulus was special too but at the time Tom didn't know that. He only knew that the new boy brought in was wearing proper clothes, was properly fed, and didn't seem overly emotional like the other young kids.

They announced their names at lunch, Mrs. Cole forcing them to stand before the eyes of the other orphans who were sizing up the new competition for survival. Regulus' name was the most elegant and the boy's demeanor was a bit posh but otherwise perfect.

Regulus was the only new arrival that didn't seem distressed.

He thought it was because Regulus had just lost his parents and didn't understand they would never be coming back. Tom planned on tricking Regulus into giving away his belongings by using this information since he was probably convinced mommy or daddy were going to save him soon.

Since Regulus was so young, Mrs. Cole placed him in the nursery with the other infants and toddlers. Winter had not yet passed, and since the nursery was understaffed, overfilled, and unprotected against the elements overall, winter would be extra harsh there. Tom had heard they lost three babes that month alone to the bitter cold but when he snuck in to see the newest arrival he found Regulus sitting comfortably in a corner looking to be unaffected by the freezing temperature.

Regulus' blanket had been wrapped around a five-month-year-old boy who Tom heard wasn't going to survive either if he didn't get warm enough.

The nurses would never take a blanket from one of them even if it meant the survival of another. If a child died it was only because they were weak. This meant Regulus had been the one to keep- whatever the baby's name is alive.

It meant that the toddler had willingly given up his source of warmth.

Tom had given Regulus a confused frown but choose to ignore the toddler in favor of stealing the blanket while the nurse was out. Regulus' chubby fingers clamped around his wrist before he could.

"What do you think you're doing?" Regulus demanded. Tom was momentarily thrown by how lovely his voice is. He didn't sound like a worthless street rat. He sounded important.

"Let go." He hissed willing the hand on his arm to burn. Regulus let out a whimper as he let go, the slight red of his palm the result of Tom's special power.

"Magic...." Regulus whispered then much to Tom's shock, instead of being frightened like so many other weak children were the toddler's whole face lit up in joy. "You're magic!"

Tom had never seen someone look so happy when speaking to him. It made his heart leap. "I'm what?"

"Magic!" Regulus' little hand wrapped around Tom's squeezing his fingers between his own. It was at this moment that Tom realized something.

Regulus was warm. Not the normal kind of warm like when one got a fever, or when someone was alive but the kind of warm he felt when near a fire. He was so warm and pretty that when he smiled up at him, Tom forgot all about his plan. "You're like me!"

Those three words made Tom realize he wanted to keep Regulus forever so like all the shiny toys he wanted, he stole the boy and hid him in his room. Regulus followed him easily which is good because all his toys should do as he says.

Later Regulus proved he was special too when he placed his little hands on Tom's chest as they were getting ready for bed and a rush of warmth spread all over his body. It was the first time in his life that he didn't feel a lick of cold.

"A heating charm" Regulus whispered "It's one of the wandless spells I know."

Yes, Tom made a good choice stealing Regulus. Because the little boy with the pretty silver eyes looked like a doll, and he likes dolls. No one would ever be taking him away ever.

#Hpdabbles #Harry Potter #The jewel of Wool's orphanage #Part 2 #Tom is a bit insane #Tom fell in love #Regulus is just happy there are wizards about #Even if it is a muggle born #Regulus is three and Tom is seven when they met

[hpdabbles]

Your new story is awesome, Harry's out there creating his own life. Will Harry recognize Riddle as Voldemort? The theme is brilliant, people changing how the story was suppose to go is my favorite plot.

Harry is just about to pack up for the day when he noticed the man watching him. Well, a man was a bit of an exaggeration. If anything he looked about fourteen or fifteen.

He pretended he didn't notice him, carefully packaging his vases to safely transfer them through the forest's hidden tunnels.

If he checked on the knives hidden on his upper arm while he bent over the boxes well that was no one else business but his own. He doesn't know what the man wanted but if he meant him harm, then Harry wouldn't go down without a fight.

He may be overreacting no matter how intense the man's stare was it could have been just because he was dumbstruck by Harry's looks.

He got used to the stares. Harry never thought of himself as vain, but he wouldn't lie and claim this new body was unattractive. If he had looked like this in his old life, he would have made a killing as a child model.

Harry doesn't doubt that as soon as he finished puberty again he would be breathtaking. Secretly, as someone who always felt like he never quite looked alright, the idea of being that effortlessly beautiful was thrilling.

As it were, he had plenty of customers who were more interested in him than his product but Harry didn't mind. If it was good for business then that was all that mattered. He had the luck that his flowers could bloom whenever he wanted, but he still had to care for them and wait for them to grow. It was a lot of work and he wanted to get every coin he could for every hour spent.

He continued to close for the day, doing his best not to look at the man. He knew he was there because the heavy gaze never left his back. By the time he was ready to set out, the sun was just about to set, and the man had yet to move.

Harry concludes the man is another person who thinks him a non-human and was trying to follow him back. As much as the rumors are annoying as they are amusing Harry can't allow them to rest. He knows that in a world where fact-checking was a lot harder to do, rumors are a good means of misdirecting people's attention.

If he wanted to prepare for war, he needed to make sure that his plans weren't discovered until he was ready for them to be. Right now, Harry didn't even know how to wield a sword and if it came down to it, the emperor would easily have his knights execute him for high treason.

It's why he made the effort of mapping out all the hidden tunnels and clear them out before he even attempted to sell his flowers in the market. The back entrance built for the annex was forgotten because it was an underground labyrinth built right under the forest surrounding the castle and being the border between the commoner section of the capital. Harry theorizes it was originally built as an emergency exit and now it worked as a means for him to disappear when being trailed.

Harry carefully pushed his cart along aware the teenager watching him kept him in eyesight. He flickered his eyes to the windows he passed by, watching the teenager's reflection a few feet behind him.

He was handsome, in an almost perfect way. Something about his beauty set warning bells off in Harry's head. The same way a frog's skin could be colorful in a warning.

He walked faster, smiling at the town people that spotted him, even making a young girl of ten blush as he nodded his head at her.

Harry made it to the forest, and then he ran. Distantly he hears hiss swear but Harry, made a shaper turn over a cliff, sliding down the hidden pathway and placing some well-needed distance between them.

He didn't care that his flowers almost fell out of his cart, that the rope he was tugging them with burned in his hands, or that he really should start to exercise more since his legs were starting to burn.

All that mattered was that he got to the fake tree, where the entrance to the lake tunnel is located, before the teenager following him caught up. Harry barely made it, pushing the right branch down, which tugged the fake tree bark up and he slipped in. He just reset the bark, peaking out through a small crack when the teenager burst into the opening, panting heavily and looking around wildly.

The reflections had not done the other justice. He was handsome, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a wicked smile when he realized he lost track of Harry. He threw his head back and laughed, seemingly so amused that Harry wondered if he was insane.

"He got away!" The teenager said what appeared to be air but much to Harry's shock a snake rose out of his shirt collar to scoff.

"Of course he did! You were barely hunting this time." The snake said.  It sounded like she, maybe a woman of a young age, as she tasted the air. "He got away. I can't find a single trail."

"He knew I was following him. He knew it. And yet he was able to " The teenager said sounding...oldy excited. Harry felt his lips twitch, despite himself he thought the other was...cute. They would be the same age if Harry had been reborn at his correct age which was still hard to adjust to waking as four years younger. "I think I just found someone perfect for the open position of my husband."

"Tom Riddle, you know very well that you are already engaged." The snake scolded and the teenager huffed. Harry smother a snicker, founding the whole scene strange enough it was humorous.

"Only since my fool of a father insisted. But I'm sure that won't be a problem for long." He waved his hand and a vase Harry hadn't realized he had dropped, repaired itself from the shattered remains and then flew into his hands. "I'll find a way to rid myself of the useless fiancé and then I'll court this...florist."

"Court him? Why would you do that?"

"Teleportation magic is very advanced and if he can do it at his age, then he will be a great asset. Besides, he is as pretty as the flowers."

"All roses have thrones, Tom. This one won't hesitate to poison if he thinks he needs to. He has the taste of a predator"

"Even better."

"Tom, you are his prey"

"Nagini that is the reason this will be quite entertaining."

The blood in Harry's veins ran cold, erasing all humor in seconds. There was only one snake named Nagini that Harry knew of in this world.

The snake is familiar with the emperor.

But nowhere in the novel was it mentioned that Nagini could speak nor that the emperor was a boy named Tom Riddle. Maybe...she belong to the boy before Emperor Voldemort murdered him?

He was obvious magic, and the Emperor would eventually go on a crusade as a means to disguise his human experimentation on the magic users.

This Tom Riddle could have been one of the first, if not, the first to fall victim to Voldemort.

He watched the snake and the human bicker between themselves as the teenager left. In his arms was the green glass vase that Harry had secretly wanted to keep to himself due to the snake curling around the lion design that he got from a traveling merchant.

Just as Tom disappeared Harry swore to himself that he would protect him from Voldemort .

#Hpdabbles #Harry Potter #Reborn as the Villan's Fiance #Part 3 #Harry Potter/Tom Riddle #mistaken identity #Harry thinks he needs to save Tom from himself #Tom is planning Harry's murder #Nagini is just the tired older sister #They are both young

[hpdabbles]

chaotic idea you know your au where Harry looks like lily and goes back in time and Voldemort is convinced he’s his son. Imagine Harry tries to convince him he’s not with some kind of paternity spell but for some convoluted reason it comes back positive. Boom chaos

Regulus feels himself break out in a cold sweat under the heavy stare of the Young Master. It pierced through the doorway wards keeping the young man within his bedroom where he was to wait for the Dark Lord.

The Young Master was re-captured a day ago, and to avoid him escaping again, Lord Voldemort had placed guards at all exists as well as stronger wards within the luxurious bedroom the Malfoys' had given him.

Honestly, it was so secured Regulus wasn't even sure if the Young Master could walk through the room properly, as the gravity was heavy everywhere but the bed he laid on. It doesn't appear to bother the Young Master waking to find himself in the same room again.

He merely rolled on his side, his red hair falling in crimson waves around his head, his emerald eyes glimmering with intelligence and strength, and placed his beautiful face in one hand staring at Regulus without so much as a word.

He hates that he was stuck with guarding duty as the newest member of the Death Eaters. It was unnerving to know the young wizard was watching his every move but had yet to say or do anything even when Regulus introduced himself.

Of course, Regulus used his code number, twenty-six nineteen, but still, the young master had only raised a brow then his expression had cooled back to indifference.

It wasn't even a glare or a sneer like the Dark Lord would usually have but rather the Young Master seemed more bored than anything else. Somehow, he seemed radiant even without an expression.

The Dark Lord had instructed the house elves to change his heir into sleepwear when they brought the redhead earlier. Apparently having him running around in a Hogwarts uniform was much too uncomfortable for his son and the Dark Lord wanted the young master as comfortable as possible.

They placed him in silk white robes, that were a temptation of their own. Goodness, but was the Young Master a beautiful creature.

He knew the young master wasn't a veela unlike Twenty-nine, who was spreading the false information to the younger recruits only because he had been involved with a male veela once and the allure that came from the young master wasn't magical at all.

He was just really really beautiful.

If only he didn't have that staring problem.

It's been over an hour now and still, that is all the Young Master has done.

"Are you hungry Young Master?" Regulus tries after finishing his pacing before the door. He chances a glance at the redhead only to look away quickly, unprepared for the gorgeous face.

"...No."

He spoke!

"Maybe you like something to do? I can ask for the house elves to bring you anything you like!"

"I like my wand"

Regulus forces a chuckle. "I'm afraid the Dark Lord had to take it for the paternity spell."

There is a thumping sound from the room that has Regulus turning his head back only to shriek and jerk away from the Young Master that was suddenly a few inches away from him. He had no idea how he did it, as there were many, many anti-Apparition wards in there, plus the gravitational wards placed on the carpet should have felt like he was trying to walk through quicksand.

It shouldn't be possible for the young master to be that fast and soundless!

"What did you say? What paternity spell?" The Young master demands, his hands curled into fists at his side. He must be dying to shake the answer of Regulus but if he passes through the doorway he will be knocked unconscious in seconds and he knows it.

"T-the paternity spell. The Dark Lord wanted to put your worries to rest and prove he is your father so he borrowed your wand to test. There will be no harm to your wand, as only the residue of the core will be used to-"

The young master's face harden. "What would happen if a wand has a brother core to another?"

"U-um that means the test would come back positive-"

"You got to be kidding me!" The young master shouts throwing his hands into the air. He sways a little, obvious fighting under the weight of wards. "Can't you just be normal and test the DNA?!"

"....I don't know what that is young master."

"Of course, you don't! Typical!"

"Son? Is he bothering you?" The Dark Lord's voice had Regulu's heart freezing over in terror. He didn't mean to bother the young master but the Dark Lord won't care. This will be his last night alive.

"The only thing bothering me is you! I'm not your son!" The young master grits through his teeth and then much to Regulus' shock he raises his hand in a grabbing motion.

Regulus feels the magic warp around him before he is lifted off his feet and yanked from the air into the room. He finds himself being pushed behind the redhead who banishes his slipper in a poor threat- when did he take that off?- at the bewildered Dark Lord.

It was a strange sight. A beautiful boy who only reached the height of the Dark Lord's chest, in a scolding stance, one fist on his hip and the other waving a slipper while one of the strongest wizards in the current times blinks down at him.

"Don't you dare do anything to twenty-six nineteen! He's been really sweet!"

Oh, the young master....is protecting him. That's....different.

"....If you feel so strongly about this, I will not harm twenty-six nineteen, son." The dark lord eventually says with an amused smile as if he was allowing a toddler into talking him into buying more sweets.

The young master gags. "Don't call me that. I'm not your son."

"I understand I missed so much of your life and so you will not accept me as a father so easily. Sheela never told me that you were in this world but I will make up for the lost time." The dark lord promises and Regulus suddenly feels like he shouldn't be witnessing this. He's never seen the Dark Lord look so human.

Lord Voldemort holds out a piece of parchment. "As you can see, the results of the paternity spell claim us, father and son."

"No, fuck you." Regulus almost screams when the young master actually throws the slipper, pushing magic into making it slam against the Dark Lord's face with enough force it knocks him down.

Regulus is too afraid to even breathe, he can't make his body move when he should be helping the Dark Lord back to his feet. He wonders how much longer the beautiful redhead has to live or if he will be the Dark Lord's outlet for his temper.

"You are your mother's son." The Dark Lord chuckles from the ground making Regulus wonder if his meal had been spiked with some potion that causes hallucinations. This can't be real. "She frightened me."

"Sheela must have been a wonderful woman then."

The Dark Lord's face falls. "You speak as if though you never knew her."

"I didn't!"

"Oh son, I allowed you to grow up alone, like a common orphan? I will make things right."

"Agghhhh!" The young master throws his hands into the air and marches back to his bed. Regulus quickly jumps out of his path, not sure what he should do as the young lord throws himself under his covers with a shout. "I hate this place!"

"We can move you somewhere you prefer." The dark Lord promises. "Just bear with it a little longer. I need to prepare the manor so you do not run away again."

".....Twenty-six nineteen get over here!" The young master suddenly yells surprising Regulus by being addressed. One warning look from the Dark Lord has him racing over to the bed.

"Yes, Young Master?"

The red hair snaps his fingers and then points to the open side of the bed. "Get in."

What.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Get in. I don't trust snake face to not kill you once you leave my sight. So you're sticking with me until we escape."

Regulus wonders if the young master knows he just put him in a lot more danger based on the hateful expression that bloomed over the Dark Lord's face.

He is only thirteen. He was too young to die due to a over protective father!

#Hpdabbles #Harry Potter #From your mother's side #PART 5 #Regulus is a wee baby here #Harry knows it's Regulus #He thinks he can save him #Tom out here thinking he pulled a Tom Sr. #Chaos is about to exploded

[hpdabbles]

Oooo I really like your new story! How will Harry and Voldemorts first meeting go? Will Harry meet Neville soon? I’m hooked already!

Neville Longbottom heard of the florist weeks before he met him due to his parents. The family business had always been trading; his parents kept this alive by joining the village traveling merchants. Their village is small, but it is a two-day trip to the capital, so the village would make their wares and send it off with the merchants to sell bi-monthly.

A small fee would cover the traveling merchants' pay for selling other villagers' wares. There were only two ways to join on the trip, one could prove their worth in combat and be a well enough merchant that impressed the guild, or one had to be part of a legacy like Neville.

His ancestors were one of the original twelve families that settled in the village, so they had special privileges. Alice, his mother, is in the first category- earning her place through her swordsmanship and hair accessories. His father, Frank, is in the second category learning how to be a traveling merchant on his mother's knee.

The Longbottoms have always been wood carvers, and so Neville learned how to cut a bird out of wood before he learned how to ride a horse. His parents always beamed in pride whenever Neville showed them his latest carving after their return.

Whenever they left on one of their trips, Neville stayed behind in the village with his grandmother to man the shop. He took lessons in everything from sales to navigation using the stars, just as his father did.

Neville counted down to his eleventh birthday when he would finally be old enough to go on a trip, as per tradition.

About a month ago, his parents return with bewildered expressions and flowers so vibrantly breathtaking Neville had made them the subject for a few of his practice blocks of wood.

"A new merchant in the capital market," Frank said that night as every settled for dinner. "A florist." Been going for a month now, and he has almost everything in grandfather's flower book."

"Where in the world did he find so many flowers?" His grandmother asked in surprise. "The last time the empire's soil could support floras like that was when I was a child!"

"Was that before the curse Gran?" Neville asks, gently tracing his fingers over the petals of a pale pink flower. It's one of the prettiest things he's ever seen.

"Yes, child. When I was about your age, the surrounding hills bloomed with flowers. Different colors, as far as the eye could see, danced in the wind. The air always smelled so sweet, like candy." Gran replies, tone wishful, staring out the window to the mentioned hills.

Neville turns to look, trying to image the green grassy hills he knew looking like the flowers on the dinner table. He couldn't.

"That was before the Curse stop them from growing. Thankfully it didn't harm the trees or the grass, but any flower would wilt and die." Alice sighs. "My mother's family were florists once, but now only a few nobles can have flowers. They need magic to make them grow."

"Does that mean the florist is a nobleman?" Neville asks and his father scoffs at his bread.

"Like a noble would stoop so low as to work for their money. No, he's probably a spirit."

"Frank," His mother cuts in with a sigh "The boy is not a spirit."

"You don't know that."

"Yes! I do! He's clearly human."

"That's what he wants you to think." He leans towards Neville, wagging his eyebrows. He lowers his voice as if he is sharing a great secret. "The pubs were all saying the same thing. No one knows who is is, where he goes or where he came from. They say he disappears as soon as he walks back into the forest. Like a ghost."

"Frank."

Neville snickers, as his mother wacks her husband on the back of his head. "Enough. The only thing otherworldly about the boy is his beauty."

"Is he handsome?" Neville asks and his mother's eyes sparkle.

"More pretty than handsome. He gives the flowers a run for their money."

Neville tries to picture a boy that is that pretty. He can't.

Then his grandmother mentions how the shop has seen an increase in bridal hair accessories with winter approaching, and the conversation moves on. He doesn't think much about the florist until two months later when his parents return from another trip, this time with more than one type of flower bouquet.

They were so colorful and new that he spent hours just watering them. It drove him to seek his great-grandfather's old books. Before the curse, the Longbottoms had a flower farm, and the secrets of growing them were kept for future heads of the house to study.

Never before had he cared about those old books- what point was there in studying something he could not use?- but the rush of learning of flora was like nothing he had ever felt.

He loved it. He loved the way they looked, loved the way they were described, and what they could do. Remedies, cures, food, and more.

Accident potions that anyone could make, no magic required. Herbology- his great grandfather's book said- is an entire field of plant study that used to save so many lives.

All were lost due to the curse.

For once, he wanted something more than being a traveling merchant.

He wanted to be a herbologist. He wanted to see plants and learn everything about them. He wanted to grow his own.

The day he finally went on a traveling trip, a week after he turned eleven, Neville was more excited to see the florist than he was about leaving his small village.

When he finally saw Bloom- the name the florist gave out he felt his heart shudder to a halt before jumping around like a spooked rabbit.

His mother has lied. Bloom was not as pretty as a flower; Bloom was much more beautiful.

He was also Neville's age, which was unfair. How was Neville supposed to have a conversation with someone so beautiful that was his age? His knees were shaking just being around him.

"Hello," Bloom said when he spotted him staring, shooting the stun new merchant a crooked smile. It shoots liquid fire through Neville's veins. "Would you like to buy some flowers?"

. He held up a pot of the very first flowers his parents bought. Now that he had read his great-grandfather's book of flower languages, he knew they were camellias- the flower of destiny.

Neville would later learn that camellias were a perfect flower for Bloom. The florist would always be in battle with destiny.

Currently, he could only babble his way through the purchase and run back to his carriage to hide his burning face. His father teased him mercilessly about fancying the florist.

#Hpdabbles #Reborn as the villain's fiance #Part 4 #Neville's Pov #Neville/Harry #In which the worldbuilding for a novel is far greater then Harry knows #Neville finds his true calling #Also developing his first crush that his parents were low key scheming would happen #Rare flower merchant son in law? Frank said yes please

[hpdabbles]

Reborn as the Villain's Fiancé 2

Harry's arrival at the castle wasn't as eventful as he imagined it was going to be. He had thought he would at least see his husband be if only for a moment but the emperor was busy.

Instead, Harry had been greeted by one of the castle slaves, who directed the coachman to the annex. It was an obvious sign that Harry was not welcome in the main castle, as the annex is a good three or so acres away from the main castle walls. He would still be protected but not as nearly as much as the main house.

Harry knew that this would be his home until his death, and in the book, it was described as a decaying building, with dead plants and no means of escape.

What he got instead was a giant of a house, with twenty-five rooms, each decorated with gold. The furniture was all finely polished pine wood, and there seem to be a color theme of green and silver that gave the building an aristocratic appeal. The gardens outside were not exactly booming, but as someone whose aunt made him into a personal gardener, Harry could see the potential of the soil. Anything could grow here!

Honestly, Harry thought he was in a museum. It was all so fancy!

The slave bowed his head. "The maids cleaned as best they could but I regret to inform you this will be all they will do. Do not expect any service from here on out."

"That's fine," Harry said looking out the large window over the rose garden Neville would eventually meet him in. In the book, the bushes are more thorns than flowers, and even now he could see there needs to be a lot of weeding and trimming but the shape was there. "I can cook and clean. Thanks for bringing me here."

The slave looked shocked to the bone not only by his words but by Harry's general acknowledgment. He doesn't care that he's in a different world, no matter what he will always be polite to employees.

Slavery.....that made him sick but at the moment, there was nothing he could do. Neville would free them all at one point after the war. Until then Harry could be kind to them and help smother out the younger ones.

"I'll take my leave then."

"Of course. You're welcome to visit anytime if you like!" He calls out but he knows the slave won't. Once he's gone, Harry is left standing in the main hall, with all his bags. The coachman had been kind enough to help bring them inside before he return home.

He has gotten a look of pity, an expression often shown by his family's servants and Harry had to fight the urge to curl his lips at him. If he felt so bad about his situation maybe he should have tried reaching out to Harry Potter before.

This Harry Potter had no need or time for pity. He had a throne to overthrow. The first thing he needed was a means of income.

Now that the Potters would no longer be providing for him, Harry depended on the Emperor for funds. In the book, like all nobles, Harry Potter could not provide for himself because he was an aristocrat who had servants do everything for him and when he was cut off from their services he could not survive.

Harry on the other hand had more than enough life skills to keep himself afloat. The castle Annex was his domain now, and anything in it.

A home. Harry thinks happily wandering through the building. A home I can build for myself. 

He first selected a bedroom. He choose to keep all of the floor levels for appearances, and if he ever got any, guest rooms. They were the more lavished and would work well for hosting visitors. He then wanders upstairs only to choose the largest one on the second floor, since it had not only a bathtub- he is going to have to get used to no plumbing- but the softest bed he's ever laid on.

Harry then found the kitchen, by going down some hidden stairs in his new bedroom. He once read that in the medial ages, servants had separate halls and stairways to keep out of sight while working but to find them in his own home was strange.

Thankfully the kitchen while a bit old, was useable. He'll have to get used to not having modern technology, but Harry had always been great at adapting. Maybe he can create something similar?

For this was a fantasy world, and in all fantasy worlds, there was magic. Harry knew that Harry Potter was capable of magic since the meek man was born of noble descendants, but he wasn't sure what kind or what limits he had.

He'll have to see if he can find a library, maybe there were books somewhere in this house that could teach him.

During his first night, Harry got all his bags into his bedroom and went about setting up weapons and emergency escape exits just in case. Then for the first time in his life, he fell asleep completely at ease.

The following morning he woke with the sun, body so used to rising early, and went about making himself some breakfast. He was able to find some meat and butter in a cabinet that he found. It seemed to be powered by magic for the inside was covered in ice feels like a walk-in freezer when he first opened it

Harry felt a lot better about his food storage situation now.

Thanks to that and a pan over an open fire, Harry made himself some bacon with beans on bread. He found a jar of water- that was hopefully good to drink- and sat himself down in the garden, choosing a small wooden table near the large trees, for the shade. He is happy he didn't have to dodge frying pans or the shouts of his relatives.

Eating as much as he wanted, as slow as he wanted, Harry took a deep breath enjoying the morning air. Above him, birds chirp and sing, flying back and forth between their nests in the high trees and the wind blows gently against his bangs.

He could get used to mornings like these.

After breakfast, Harry explodes the annex further. He found a shed with the previous gardener's tools, and much to his joy, seeds of various flowers and vegetables. He even found a book on the ground runes that solved his income problem.

The annex, separate, isolated, and now ignored it may be, was still within the castle grounds. This meant the magic to keep certain seasons year-round was employed throughout the castle. Emperor Voldemort hated any form of cold, so upon his crowning Spring and Summer were the only seasons allowed.

What Harry had in his hand was the means to change that. He could grow plants and flowers throughout the year and in their preferred seasons!

Flowers were rare in the empire, Harry wasn't sure why since it was a small plotline that wasn't overly important but this means he could grow his own and sell them in the market!

The commoners' market was said to be a little way outside the castle walls. The main entrance would be guarded and Harry doubts he be allowed through but the back one, originally built for the annex was forgotten.

Neville used that to enter and meet with Harry Potter, for weeks trying to get the man to run away with him. Surely, Harry can use it to smother out his products?

He could even go into the third-floor rooms, which were covered in lavish drapes and flower décor to cut into strips for his flower bouquets. Just until he could buy the fabric himself. Maybe even visit some glass artist for vases.

He would save money by growing his food too. Vegetables and fruits would be enough if he could keep them year-round. There had to be a butcher in town, where he could buy his meat.

"Yes," Harry says standing in front of so many untapped potential soil grounds. "Yes, I can make this work."

______________________________________________________________

There is a rumor, in the Hogwarts largest market of a boy who sells flowers. He appeared one day, pushing a cart full of colorful flora, wearing lovely green robes and a hood, but it was not enough to hide his beauty.

At first, no one dared go near the new vendor, for surely a product so rare would be expensive but after a pair of children had wandered too close, the vendor had given them free flower crowns.

He had sold them a rose for their mothers taking five sickles for each. The rest of his wares were at a reasonable price too, the most expensive one's bouquets of beautifully organized flowers of various kinds.

Some the commoners had never even seen, for books with images were only for the nobles and so the flowers they saw were the new to their eyes and quite stunning. The ribbons that were tied around the stems were just as high quality and the vendor even had specialty orders, with hand sewed stuff toys after buying some fabrics from the local tailor.

The real kicker though was the vendor's mysterious appearance. Yes, he was just as pretty as the flowers he sold, with gentle green eyes and a kind personality, but what allured everyone was no one knew anything about him.

The vendor didn't even give out his name, instead of telling people to refer to him as "Bloom". He would emerge from the surrounding forest each week with his cart full of flower arraignments, special little vases, and stuffed animals but would vanish without a trace when he re-entered.

A few of the people in the city- for the capital was very large even in the areas meant for the lower classes- tried to follow him but they would end up getting lost and losing his trail.

It was like he disappeared in thin air. A strange lovely creature.

Not that Bloom wasn't friendly.

He always had a soft spot for children, allowing a few of the street rats who had no home to work a few hours during the market for both food and coin. He set up his booth on his own never sneering at people who came over to look without buying, he was respectful of other vendors even when his wares sold much more than theirs and he always had a dazzling smile for anyone who spoke to him including the slaves that went shopping for their masters.

He even did Hannah's hair- braiding tiny rosebuds into it- on the day of her wedding free of charge, making all the ladies envious of the young bride.

Such gorgeous hairstyles were usually only affordable by noblewomen.

Bloom had been coming to the market for about four months now, but it was no surprise that a lot of the young people had developed feelings for the boy. He would make a wonderful husband.

After all, Bloom had started bringing clothes and food for the street rats, taking time to even treat their wounds. The food he cooked himself, some dishes are never before seen but were tasty enough he sold every so often. No one knew what was happening to Bloom but he always seemed saddened he couldn't take the children home.

The rumors said he was a magical spirit, which was why he was so gorgeous, others claimed he was a runaway slave, and a few even suggested he was a fairy.

None, however, were more intrigued by these strange rumors than Emperor Voldemort who wanted to see this florist for himself. He wondered how a commoner was getting flowers so easily. Maybe the boy was talented in magic which meant he would be a perfect test subject.

Not that he wanted the people to know what he was planning on doing. Right now, he needed to bid his time. The best way to get the boy was to make him come to Voldemort of his own free will.

He doubts it is that hard. Voldemort had done so before as Tom Riddle, a commoner identity he invented for this exact purpose.

Riddle would get the florist to warm his bed, and then Voldemort would get the florist's magic. Surely seducing a peasant boy would be easy even if the florist was said to be so just as gifted in the looks department.

"I shall be going out!" He tells his manservant. "Make sure no one notices my absence."

"Of course your highness. Where will you be going?"

"The market."

#Hpdabbles #Harry Potter #Reborn as the Villain's Fiancé #Part 2 #harry/voldemort #Harry out here looking like a fantasy within a fantasy #Harry said "I don't need no man. I'm self sufficient #Tom may bite more then he can chew