#VOLDEMORT

[augustuscaesarsalad]

RIP Regulus I guess

[deathsoldfriend]

Day 23 - Tyrant | Words 1,097

@tomarrymortmicrofics

   “I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with him,” Hermione said as soon as the food appeared on the table. “He’s a tyrant.”

   “Not so loud,” Ron hissed through his teeth, and they fell into a tense silence. 

   Harry doubted they’d be heard; they were far from the high table and their fellow Gryffindors were loud as they caught up with each other. 

   Quick eyes glanced up to the high table anyway while Harry created a small pile of food on his plate. 

   He didn’t turn to look. As his back was to the table doing so would only draw attention and he didn’t need to look.

   He knew what he’d find there. 

   The Dark Lord was visiting Hogwarts and Harry knew he wasn’t paying their table any attention. He’d feel that piercing gaze if he was.

   “He’s not a tyrant,” Harry protested quietly but with conviction when Hermione turned back to him, and Harry wasn’t obsessed with him.

   “Harry,” she started in that patient tone of hers that conveyed she thought him stupid. “You have books, multiple, filled with newspaper clippings and reports detailing his whole life. And that’s not even accounting whatever it is you’ve written in those books about him. It’s not healthy, it’s obsessive, and that man is—“

   “The Dark Lord,” Ron interrupted harshly before she could say something that would get her killed.

   And well, perhaps she had a point about the tyrant part. 

   “He’s hot though,” Ginny piped up from his side. She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at Harry causing him to scowl.

   “Do you think me so shallow?” he asked. He thought she knew him better than that. “He’s not just a pretty face. He’s a genius, he’s—“

   “Yes, yes, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” she interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He’s intelligent and powerful and the most amazing man alive, we know, you’ve only told us about a hundred times.”

   She rolled her eyes as he flushed. And okay, maybe they were right about the obsessive part too. 

   He just couldn’t understand how someone could learn about the Dark Lord and not become… interested in knowing more.

   The man was an enigma. Coldly intelligent, fiercely powerful and only cruel when the situation demanded it.

   “He’s done a lot of good for Britain, you have to admit that,” he said to Hermione.

   “Well, yes, I’m not denying it,” she replied primly as she speared a potato with her fork. “It’s his methods that I disagree with.”

   Harry scoffed and pushed his meat around his plate. “Ruling with love is certainly a nice dream Hermione, but do you think Britain would be as prosperous now if he hadn’t terrified everyone?”

   He was a Dark Lord. They weren’t exactly known for being all fluffy and cute. Fear was a natural weapon that dark lords utilised, and Lord Voldemort incited plenty of love too, despite his cruelty.

   Hermione opened her mouth to argue, brown eyes flashing with righteous anger, but Ginny interrupted her again.

   “Give it up Hermione, you know there’s no convincing him.”

   Her mouth snapped shut and she sighed, shaking her head at Harry’s obstinance.

   Ron, who preferred to keep out of these discussions, perked up.

   “When was the last time he took an apprentice?” he asked the group but kept his eyes on Harry as he was the one most likely to know. 

   “He hasn’t, at least, not officially.” There had been many rumours of him taking an invested interest in his followers training. 

   In fact, Harry knew it to be more than rumour because his mum’s friend Snape had been tutored in the Dark Arts by the Dark Lord.

   This year however, the man had decided he wanted to take an apprentice. Someone to share all his knowledge and skills with. 

   It was something Harry had never expected the man to do, and something he so desperately wanted. 

   To spend time with the man, to get the chance to pick a part his brain and learn from him… his heart sped up at the thought. 

   “He’ll probably choose Malfoy anyway,” Harry continued. Malfoy was Britain's golden boy—and saying it out loud meant Harry wouldn’t get his hopes up.

   “Why would he go through the farce of choosing an apprentice if he’d already decided on Malfoy?” Ginny countered.

   “Well, it has to look fair don’t it?” Ron said.

   Hermione snorted quietly, “as if he cares about fairness.”

   Harry frowned at her tone, even if he agreed with her words.

   “He’s the Dark Lord, he doesn’t have to be fair at all,” he interjected sharply before he shrugged his shoulders unhappily. “Either way, I’m not going to be chosen.”

   Hermione and Ginny shared a look as Ron sent him a sympathetic grimace. 

   “Don’t be so sure Harry,” Ginny said kindly. “You’ve got as much chance as anyone else.”

   “That’s nice of you to say, but I doubt I’m even in the running. The Dark Lord won’t apprentice an idiot, and my academic record isn’t exactly impressive.” Harry smiled ruefully. “Hermione has a better chance than I do.”

   Hermione snorted again, and he knew she was thinking of her blood status. It mattered not how intelligent she was, Hermione would have to claw her way up the chain to make a name for herself. 

   Though considering that the Dark Lord was a half-blood, and he’d changed his stance on the integration of muggleborns—due to the research into bloodlines Harry’s mum had brought to the man’s attention—he thought she had a better chance than she imagined.

   “No one knows how the Dark Lord will pick his student,” Ron reminded him. “You’re the best of us in Defence and the Dark Arts, that’s got to count for something.”

   “I suppose so,” Harry said doubtfully. 

   Silence fell as they focused on eating, but it didn’t last for long. Harry stayed out of the ensuing conversation that turned to discussing a new band that was making waves through the wizarding youth.

   As he ate slowly, stamping down the hope that bloomed at Ron’s words, the hair on the back of his neck raised. 

   His breath caught as a heavy gaze burned against his skin. He twisted in his seat slightly and glanced up to the head table through his fringe.

   The Dark Lord was staring at him. A keen interest swam in red eyes and blood rushed to Harry’s cheeks at the intensity of it.

   He lowered his head, ever aware of the Dark Lord’s regard, and wondered if he had a chance after all.

Death's Bitesize Bits and Bobs

[bigendervampire]

from my fic (wip) where Voldemort visits Harry in Privet Drive, only to realise he is his horcrux.

[maxdibert]

I love Severus, he's my favorite, but don't you think the fandom exaggerates his intelligence and skill?

I don’t think he was the strongest character in the saga, but it’s true that he proved to be quite a competent wizard. In my opinion, the most powerful and skilled ones were clearly Dumbledore and Voldemort, especially Dumbledore, not only because of his brilliance but also because he had lived for so long. Experience always makes a difference.

Voldemort was an exceptional and terrifyingly talented wizard, and perhaps that’s why the fact that Severus was able to deceive him suggests that he was also an extremely capable magician. Voldemort is described as one of the most accomplished Legilimens in history, and yet Severus could successfully practice Occlumency against him. That alone says a lot.

That being said, I don’t think Severus was exceptional at everything. I believe he was outstanding at what truly interested and mattered to him and he clearly had a lot of natural talent. He seemed like the kind of person with an innate ability to absorb knowledge like a sponge, to internalize it and then reinvent it, which isn’t just about raw intelligence but also about ingenuity and creative thinking.

Do I think Severus was a once-in-a-generation wizard like Voldemort or Dumbledore? No. But was he significantly above average and more gifted than most? Absolutely. And honestly, if he had lived longer and been given more years to grow and develop his abilities, I believe he could have reached — or at least approached — their level. It’s worth remembering that Severus was only about 38 years old when he died. He was still a young man, while the great wizards of the saga — the truly legendary figures — were all over 60.

[noxxytocin]

🖤 Tom Marvolo Riddle — commission for @wrengaunt 🖤

I’ve been itching to paint Tom for ages—and yes, Michael Bublé’s “Sway” was on an endless loop the whole time. Cheers for letting me have a go at him, mate. 🫂 Christmas has come early.

[capriddle]

In my opinion, Voldemort in the orphanage was definitely the type of person who pushed other children down the stairs.

[motherfuckingmaneater]

Headcanon Voldemort doesn’t physically tip his head down to look at people (he’s taller than most) but he looks down at them by just moving his gaze — and without fail it intimidates everyone. I also think he’d like to feel above everyone else. Also headcanoning Bellatrix is the first person he meets who also has this habit.

[stolenviolet]

Uh oh! When Voldemort hit Harry with the killing curse in the forest, it created a life instead of taking one.

[dulmetra]

Some unfinished black and white pieces of young Thomas as Voldy <3

[blueberrycasanova]

i think dumbledore was growing weed in the forbidden forest the whole time and that’s why it was forbidden. that’s also why he acts the way he does.

[vesperkyno]

Some Harry Potter stuff

[deathsoldfriend]

Day 22 - Purify | Words 1,169

@tomarrymortmicrofics

CW. Blood and Blood Drinking.

The room filled with smoke, thick and cloying as Harry waved the burning bundle of sage around.

   He coughed through the haze, choking for fresh air and eyes and nose stinging.

   All reports said that one would be enough, but he doubted it.

   He grabbed another bundle from his pocket and lit it, desperation clawing at his insides because this had to work.

   He’d tried everything. 

   Meditated, gone for long walks in the woods, bathed in the clean waters of a fresh spring.

   Bathed in a boiling hot bath full of herbs meant to purify. Scrubbed and scrubbed at his reddened skin until the cloth came away bloody. And scrubbed some more while he howled his agony and despair into the unfeeling world.

   Nothing had worked. He doubted even this would too.

   But he had to try. 

   He swallowed dryly as more smoke choked the room. His lungs shuddered but he opened his mouth, breathing in the burning sage and willing it to cleanse him as it tore its way down his throat.

   It was too much; too little oxygen and he coughed again. He stumbled, overcome by dizziness and didn’t feel the pain as he landed on the floor.

   His vision dimmed, hands twitched and scratched against the hard wood below and his ears rang with a high-pitched static.

   He was going to die. Suffocating on the acrid smoke, naked and with tears streaming down his face.

   Even as he thought it, as his heart pounded in a refusal to stop beating, he heard… something.

   A sound… a single tread of a foot… the swish of wings… an angry sigh… proof that even the salt line at the threshold hadn't worked.

   “Harry.” The disappointed voice came from above him and Harry forced his eyes open to look.

   A pale foot on the floor before him. He tried to lift his head, wanted to see his mistake, the demon that he’d unwittingly tied to his own soul, but hadn’t the strength to even shift his eyes.

   “You foolish mortal.” The being crouched and lifted Harry’s head up with one clawed hand. Harry could just make out a pair of red eyes through the haze. “Did you truly think this would work?”

   Harry’s eyelids struggled to stay open, but they slipped closed. He barely registered the pain as a claw dug into the soft skin beneath his eye, but he understood the threat. 

   His demon hated it when he refused to look at him.

   This time it wasn’t Harry’s choice, he couldn’t keep his eyes open, but he forced his eyelids to move anyway.

   “What were you hoping to gain from this idiocy? That you’d purge me from your life? That you’d die?” his demon asked when Harry finally managed to fix his gaze on him again. 

   Harry opened his mouth—to confirm—to beg for forgiveness—but only managed to inhale more smoke. His lungs buckled under the strain and the only sound that left him was a choked moan.

   “You should know by now you’ll never be free of me; death certainly won’t be an escape. I have you, Harry Potter, heart and soul—and I’ll never let you go.”

   Claws dug into his skin as his demon picked him up effortlessly. He pulled him close, large leathery wings cleared the smoke before they cocooned around them. The demon’s strong arms were gentle as he embraced him.

   A forked tongue flicked out, lapping up the tears on his cheek and Harry struggled feebly, but he knew it was useless.

   The demon was stronger than him on a normal day and in his weakened state his fighting meant nothing.

   “You wanted me, remember? Stuffed in the small cupboard of yours and sporting cuts and bruises. You bled on to that floor, you drew my sigil upon the wall and begged me to save you.” Voldemort placed soft kisses against his cheek and Harry unconsciously tilted his head up so the demon’s next kiss brushed his lips. “You begged and trembled like the delicate creature you are, and I answered.”

   Harry’s mouth trembled and his tongue flicked out, licking against his demon’s cold lips. An apology, a plea, a wonton desire that always bloomed within him at his demon’s touch.

   “Look at what you’ve done to yourself, my foolish child.” Cold hands brushed down his body, claws catching on red raw skin and open sores. 

   Harry moaned at the pain and leant closer in an effort to capture lips with his own, but Voldemort drew back. 

   His demon levelled him with a look, one of soft disappointment and dark unspoken desire.

   “Please,” Harry whispered, even speaking that much tore at his throat, smoke still restricting his lungs.

   “And here you are, begging me once again to save you after you’ve tried to exorcise me.” Rage flared in crimson eyes and Voldemort shoved him down. 

   A scream ripped its way out of his throat when claws slashed through his torso. Blood spattered his chest and floor, and he let out a sob knowing his punishment was just.

   He shouldn’t have tried to escape, to free himself from his demon’s grasp. 

   The best he could do now was to take the pain, allow Voldemort to work through his rage upon Harry's body and accept his retribution.

   But claws didn’t dig into his skin and teeth didn’t tear at flesh as Voldemort straddled his legs.

   Harry’s hands trembled in an effort to grab his demon closer, but they were still too weak to move, and all he managed was to dig his nails into the wood floor.  

   Wings flared above them, blocking out the overhead light as Voldemort bent over. A forked tongue lapped at his fresh cuts, licking and sucking at his blood.

Harry’s hips bucked and fire flooded his veins. His cuts stung and burned as the tongue worked its way over them, into them. Diving in and out, penetrating until Harry was writhing with need, stomach clenching and quivering.

   “Please,” he begged again, this time not for forgiveness but for more. More delicious pain, more blood, for all his demon would give and take.

   Voldemort answered his plea as he worked his way up Harry’s torso. Fanged teeth scraping skin, threatening to break through and lips leaving a trail dark bruises.

   Harry’s head turned, exposing his neck and his demon took the bait instantly. Sharp teeth clamped against his jugular, sinking deep and tearing a deep moan from Harry’s lips.

   He spasmed as the teeth retracted slowly, tongue and lips sucking up the fresh spill of blood.

   “Who do you belong to Harry Potter?” The demon hissed into his ear. Harry shuddered as a line of hot blood trickled down his neck and tilted his head to lock eyes with red.

   “You,” Harry licked his lips. “I belong to Lord Voldemort.”

   A clawed hand crushed around his throat as his demon loomed closer. Anger and desire burned in his eyes as their lips brushed.

   “And don’t you ever forget it.”

-someone come take my keyboard off me...

Death's Bitesize Bits and Bobs

[sixthcloud3]

Harry is getting seduced by local old man…

Ins | X | TikTok

[maxdibert]

I don’t want to be the one defending Voldemort, but not everything bad people do is necessarily bad. For example, Voldemort was evil, sure, but he killed James Potter, who was an abuser, a sexual aggressor, a classist piece of violent trash who spent half his life terrorizing people poorer than him just because he could, because he was bored, or because certain people simply existed.

I think that, among all the terrible things Voldemort did, killing James was at least a nod to his roots as a poor, orphaned child — taking out a rich, oppressive bastard who honestly deserved the guillotine in a public square.

And on top of that, he also killed Lily, who basically whitewashed all her husband’s atrocities and was a class traitor. And class traitors get killed too, because seriously, fuck Lily Evans, thinking you’re the queen of ethics and morality while letting yourself get knocked up by a textbook abuser.

The Potters were disgustin, thank god we didn’t have to put up with them during the books and thans Voldemort for made the dirty work for the shake of our mental health.

[lightningant]

horcrux family photo