Fangs & Venom

Prologue

Morfin Gaunt had lost his mind to his nephew. He had lost his family for the nephew that called himself  Tom Morvolo Riddle. He had the blood of his paternal family on his hands. He was a monster and a disgrace for pureblood families. 

Merope. All along. It was Merope's fault for meddling with the Riddle's. She was the family's Achilles heel. She brought home their ill fate- or so it was to be thought. 

Morfin had a secret. He had seen a seer in order to consult their ultimate rise from poverty-stricken Little Hangleton. 

Merope Gaunt would be the demise to the purest bloodline there was to date. The purest Slytherin bred bloodline would be no more. Even his son. All of them would be dead. 

That day he bought a train ticket and collected his earnings he hid in the vaults. His son, Malachi Gaunt would not suffer upon Merope's creation. He would rise and restore their prestige. 

His teenage boy. He would not let any harm come to the only hope. They were Salazar Slytherin's direct descendants. 

They were cunning, resourceful and ambitious. He would go great lengths to keep his boy safe. 

And so he did. 

Fourteen year old Malachi Gaunt was given a mission- to restore the Gaunt name. His father packed records, books, a wand, and countless wedges of money. 

"My son, you are to run far away from here. With this ticket, you'll find an old family house in the heart of Ireland. Take this wand. With this wand you'll prove your worth. Find a pureblood respected family, marry their lastborn daughter and restore the family name. Us Gaunts are meant for greatness. We are meant to rule the Wizarding World. Run and don't look back. Remember in the heart of Ireland, the house is named Morrigan, named after the strongest descendant of Salazar Slytherin", a rattled Morfin said to his son. 

The youngest Gaunt ran, and he didn't dare to look back. 

He climbed into the train placed his back suitcase in the overhead compartment. He needed to fulfill his father's last wish. He would not back down from the task. 

When he arrived to Ireland, he felt alone. A shadow of himself. He roamed the streets for two days, afraid to trust even his own shadows. 

He found The Morrigan. It was not a house. It was the remains of a manor of beautiful architecture. The gothic archs had prevailed time, and the immaculate furnishings told the story of purebloods. 

This was The Morrigan's house. A sanctuary for pureblooded wizards. It had somehow been placed under countless charm to preserve its historic form. 

He unpacked his little belongings, only to find armoires filled with opulent and aristocratic clothing. He was taught everything by his father, not having a need for a proper wizarding school. 

He examined the extensive library filled with even the most ancient books in dark magic. The scent of parchement and untouched information sent jolts of excitement through his veins. He was home. 

He would mask his poverty and his roots for the while, he would place a charming facade as he rose to important ranks. 

He became an esteemed potioneer. His last name, Gaunt, resounded like a bullet through the British territory, but never earning the time for Voldemort to inspect. 

He married the last born daughter of Ireland's most pureblooded royalty, Maeve Lynch. It was rumored her family was descendant of the famous witch queen, Maeve. Together, they reigned Ireland and shook Europe.