Chapter 4
Dinner was nothing short of a battlefield — a loud, joyous, and entirely uncontrollable battlefield.
"Pass the potatoes!" Erebus called, reaching across the table.
"Not until you pass the rolls!" Ron shot back, holding the bread hostage.
"Traitor!" Erebus gasped, clutching his chest dramatically.
"Language at the table!" Harry scolded with a grin, grabbing the potatoes and sliding them down to Erebus.
Meanwhile, Salazar was perched proudly in his chair, wielding his fork like a scepter.
"Uncle Moony," Sal began, voice serious, "what happens if you eat too much pudding?"
"You get a tummy ache," Remus answered wisely.
Salazar nodded sagely. "That’s why I’m eating a lot of chicken first. Balances it out."
"Flawless logic," Sirius said approvingly, clinking his goblet with Salazar’s like they were two seasoned warriors sharing a drink.
Voldemort, who had somehow ended up with Salazar on his lap mid-meal, looked mildly alarmed as Salazar began feeding him spoonfuls of mashed potatoes.
"You know," Voldemort muttered, wiping away a stray bit of potato from his chin, "I once ruled my followers through fear and power."
"You still do," Harry pointed out dryly.
"And yet," Voldemort gestured to Salazar, who was now squishing peas into his potatoes to create "potion ingredients," "this is my life now."
"You love it," Harry smirked.
Voldemort paused — then huffed. "I suppose I do."
Just then, Salazar turned back to Voldemort with an alarmingly large spoonful of peas. "Papa, open wide!"
Voldemort blinked. "I refuse."
Salazar’s lower lip wobbled. His big green eyes shimmered with the intensity only a four-year-old could muster.
"...Fine," Voldemort muttered, begrudgingly accepting the mouthful of peas. The entire table erupted in applause.
"You see that?" Sirius whispered loudly to Remus. "The Dark Lord, brought to his knees... by peas."
By the time dessert rolled around, everyone was full, laughing, and feeling warm inside.
"Daddy!" Ares called from the far end of the table. "Uncle Paddy says he’s gonna teach me how to sneak into the kitchens at Hogwarts!"
"SIRIUS!" Harry shouted in exasperation.
"You promised you wouldn’t tell him yet!" Sirius protested, looking betrayed.
"Oops," Ares said innocently, stuffing a biscuit in his mouth.
"Uncle Paddy says that’s called 'thinking ahead,'" Salazar added with a solemn nod.
Harry sighed, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He glanced at Voldemort, who — despite having spent most of the evening dodging flying food and fending off Salazar’s attempts to declare him "Potions Master of the Year" — looked oddly content.
For all the chaos, all the strangeness... this felt right.
"Alright, Little Princes," Harry said, voice warm. "Time for bed."
A chorus of groans filled the room, but before long, the children had piled into the sitting room for bedtime stories — Salazar curled up in Voldemort’s lap again, mumbling something about "pea magic" in his sleep.
"You know," Voldemort murmured later that evening, watching their kids snuggle together under a blanket, "I never thought I'd have this."
"Me neither," Harry admitted. "But... I wouldn’t trade it for anything."
Voldemort chuckled darkly. "Even if your godfather is clearly trying to turn them all into miniature marauders?"
"Especially then," Harry replied with a grin.
The next morning, Harry woke to the sound of distant giggling — which, in a house full of both Weasleys and Potter-Riddles, was rarely a good sign.
“Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” he mumbled, throwing an arm over his face.
“It’s exactly what you think it is,” Voldemort muttered from beside him, sounding equally unimpressed.
The giggling grew louder, followed by suspicious thumps.
“...Should we check?” Harry asked.
“Or,” Voldemort countered, “we could pretend it’s not happening.”
Another loud crash followed.
“We’re checking.”
Moments later, they found the source of the commotion: Erebus, Ares, and Salazar were in the hallway, armed with brightly colored toy wands — each one launching tiny fireworks that exploded into bursts of glitter and sparkles.
“Take that!” Ares shouted, firing a stream of pink sparks at Erebus, who dove behind a sofa.
“You’ll never defeat me!” Erebus shot back, popping up and returning fire with a flurry of golden stars.
“I’m on your side, dummy!” Ares groaned.
“I knew that!” Erebus said hastily, dodging another volley of sparkling explosions.
Meanwhile, Salazar was standing proudly in the middle of the chaos, holding his toy wand like a king wielding a scepter.
“I AM THE MASTER OF SPARKLES!” he declared triumphantly, spinning in place and firing a shower of rainbow confetti across the room.
Harry blinked. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified.”
“Both,” Voldemort muttered.
“Alright!” Harry clapped his hands. “Wands down before you blow up the house.”
The children froze, wide-eyed. Then, as if on cue, Salazar’s toy wand let out one final pop — releasing a cloud of purple smoke that settled directly on Voldemort’s head. His hair (what little he had) was now shimmering lavender, and his robes were dusted in violet glitter.
The children gasped. Ares slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. Erebus turned away, shoulders shaking with laughter. Salazar, meanwhile, stared up at Voldemort with unflinching pride.
“Papa,” Sal declared solemnly, “you look magnificent.”
For a moment, there was silence. Voldemort’s eyes narrowed.
“...Harry,” Voldemort said in a dangerously calm voice, “your children are clearly defective.”
“I prefer the term ‘creative,’” Harry replied, grinning.
Before Voldemort could reply, Sirius rounded the corner, took one look at the glitter-coated Dark Lord, and burst out laughing so hard he had to lean on the wall for support.
“Oh — oh Merlin — you look like a demented fairy godmother!” Sirius wheezed between breaths.
“You have three seconds to leave,” Voldemort said flatly.
Sirius wisely fled down the hallway, still cackling.
“Alright,” Harry sighed, scooping Salazar into his arms, “all of you — time to clean this up.”
“Even me?” Salazar whined.
“You were the self-proclaimed Master of Sparkles,” Harry reminded him.
“But that’s just a title!” Salazar protested.
“Clean. Now.”
Grumbling, the boys began tidying up, while Harry turned to Voldemort, brushing glitter off his shoulders.
“You know,” Harry said teasingly, “you do look rather magnificent.”
“If you value your life,” Voldemort warned, “you will not finish that sentence.”
Harry just grinned, kissed his husband’s glitter-covered cheek, and muttered, “I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”