The fire crackled softly in the large stone fireplace in the study, casting shadows across the faces of two of Britain's most powerful wizards.
Aurelian, still reclining in his chair behind the desk, interlaced his fingers and fixed his gaze on his father. The relaxed atmosphere of just moments ago vanished, giving way to a palpable seriousness.
"Father…" Aurelian began, carefully choosing his words so as not to anger him. "What do you really think of Muggles?"
Voldemort, reclining on the leather sofa, frowned with disdain. His lips curled into a smirk of superiority, and he opened his mouth, ready to spew his usual rhetoric. He was going to call them animals, vermin unworthy of his attention, parasites that should be crushed under his boot.
However, before he could utter the first syllable, Aurelian leaned forward. He looked at him with such intensity that it reminded Voldemort of himself in the past.
"Don't give me some stupid speech, Father. We're not in your Ministry office or in front of your Death Eaters for that," Aurelian cut him off in a firm voice. "Answer me with the truth. What you truly think of them."
Voldemort closed his mouth. His expression of utter contempt slowly cracked under his son's piercing gaze. The Dark Lord remained silent for several long seconds, the weight of his memories drowning out the arrogance in his gaze. Finally, he lowered his head to watch the fire and let out an almost imperceptible sigh.
"They are dangerous," Voldemort admitted, his voice sounding strangely hoarse and devoid of his usual demeanor.
The word hung in the air, heavy and laden with that dark reality. Voldemort closed his eyes and, for the first time in decades, allowed his mind to drift back to the dark, cold corridors of Wool's Orphanage.
He began to speak, describing to his son what it was like to live in the heart of London without resources, unaware of magic, and with no hope for a better future. He told him of the hunger gnawing at his insides, of the filth, of the cold seeping through the broken windows, and of the inherent cruelty of Muggle children. But above all, he told him of World War II.
He described in chilling detail the terror, the panic he felt during the Blitz bombings. The air raid sirens tearing through the night like a scream. The London sky ablaze. The earth shaking and entire buildings crumbling into dust and blood in a matter of seconds, crushing hundreds of Muggles beneath the rubble before the stunned gaze of a young Tom Riddle.
Aurelian listened with rapt attention. He did not interrupt his father's raw account even once.
Even the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, who at first had listened with a raised eyebrow, was now paying full attention. The ancient wizard was shocked—in a bad way—by the level of annihilation and mass devastation that Muggles were capable of causing. Aurelian had already told him a few things some time ago about modern technology and firearms, but hearing such a vivid, personal, and catastrophic account from someone who had experienced it firsthand gave Salazar a great deal to think about. The story of the Muggles always led to hell.
When Voldemort finished his story, he opened his eyes, now hardened by the anger he felt toward his past self and his need to survive.
"Every day, when I heard those damned planes flying overhead, I was paralyzed with fear of dying buried under the rocks like a mere animal," Voldemort confessed, looking Aurelian straight in the eyes. "And that is why I hate being weak. Because weakness leaves you at the mercy of situations you cannot control, since you lack the strength to turn them to your advantage."
The Dark Lord sat up straight on the sofa, shaking off the ghosts of the past with a flick of his robe.
"Now tell me," Voldemort inquired, raising an eyebrow. "What's behind this sudden and strange interest in Muggles, Aurelian?"
Aurelian leaned back in his chair, processing his father's story. Understanding that fear only strengthened his own resolve.
"It's because my plan is to save the wizarding world from ending up exactly like London did back then," Aurelian replied matter-of-factly.
Voldemort raised his other eyebrow, looking at him skeptically.
"I never saw you as an altruistic person, son."
Aurelian let out a short chuckle.
"I'm not at all, I assure you," said Aurelian, still smiling slightly. "The only thing that matters to me—my one and only priority in this life—is my family. Protecting Hestia, Flora, my future children, and maybe even you. But if, to definitively secure their future, I have to save the wizarding world in the process… well, it sounds like a nice bonus for when my story and legacy are told in the future."
From his portrait, Salazar Slytherin leaned forward within the frame.
"Well said, boy. Protect your own first," Salazar agreed. "But how exactly do you plan to do that? Subjugating the Muggles would require a logistical effort that..."
Aurelian smiled broadly, interrupting him. He sat up straight in his chair, resting his hands flat on the desk.
"That's the thing. I'm not quite sure how to do it yet," Aurelian admitted cheekily. "But I do know exactly what I want to achieve."
Salazar and Voldemort exchanged a quick glance, not fully understanding where the boy was going with this.
Seeing their confused expressions, Aurelian let out another laugh.
"Yeah, okay, I don't think I even understood myself in that last sentence," Aurelian conceded, clearing his throat to return to the seriousness of the matter. "The point is this: living among Muggles in secret has its days numbered. Technology is advancing rapidly. Wizards need a safe place. A refuge, an isolated and permanent place, just for us."
Voldemort nodded slowly, processing the information.
"I see. Do you mean conquering a large territory? Perhaps founding a country, maybe an imperishable island in the middle of the ocean protected by barriers?" the Minister tried to guess.
Aurelian raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes shone intensely.
"Why settle for a measly country, Dad?" Aurelian asked, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Why fight over borders on Earth when we can have an entire planet to ourselves?"
Salazar Slytherin's eyes widened, his jaw dropping slightly.
"By all the magic…" Salazar murmured, "Are you referring to that wild, impossible, and colossal idea you mentioned to me months ago?"
Aurelian nodded vigorously, genuinely pleased that the founder remembered their conversation about the stars. He turned fully toward his father, who was still staring at him, trying to make sense of his words.
"I want to colonize Mars, Dad," Aurelian declared, each word spoken with overwhelming conviction. "I'm going to terraform Mars and turn it into a new world, an unattainable Eden where only wizards, witches, and all the magical creatures of Earth live. We're leaving here."
Silence filled the office. Voldemort sat frozen on the sofa. He blinked once, twice. He looked at his son, his heir, the genius of the Arcane Patterns, with exactly the same expression of disbelief he would have worn if the boy had suddenly grown a second talking head on his shoulder. He no longer knew if his son was a complete genius or simply mad.
Aurelian, completely ignoring his father's stunned and bewildered gaze, spoke again.
"I'm already starting to map out the plan," Aurelian assured him, his mind racing at a thousand miles an hour. "I know it will be an absurdly long and complex process, perhaps spanning decades. But if I'm lucky, and if I manage to get the wizards to join my cause of their own free will, everything will move along much faster."
Voldemort blinked slowly, still trying to process that his son was literally planning to build portals to reach space instead of simply taking over the Ministry of Magic and ruling the Earth.
A soft hiss broke the silence that followed the statement. Nythoros slid from Aurelian's shoulder onto the tabletop. He slithered between the inkwells and scrolls until he was facing the two wizards, raising his head.
"I stand with my companion in this and any conquest," Nythoros hissed with complete loyalty, his voice echoing through the office.
Aurelian smiled broadly at his familiar's declaration. He reached out a hand and gently stroked the scales of the deadly creature.
"Thank you, my great friend. Your support means a great deal to me," Aurelian replied in Parseltongue, feeling the magical bond glow within him.
From the wall, the portrait of Salazar Slytherin crossed his arms. The founder did not share the boy's enthusiastic blindness; his mind was already searching for cracks in his descendant's utopia. Salazar scratched his chin, frowning thoughtfully.
"Hypothetically speaking, boy," Salazar interjected, catching Aurelian's attention. "Let's say everything goes exactly as you want. You manage to terra… terraform—or whatever that means—the stars, build your ideal world, and take the entire magical world and its creatures to the stars, leaving Earth to the Muggles."
Aurelian nodded, encouraged.
"Exactly. That's the idea."
"Then tell me one thing," Salazar continued, leaning forward further over his canvas. "What will become of the magical children born to Muggle parents here on Earth after all of us have left?"
Aurelian opened his mouth to reply but fell completely silent.
His brilliant ideas collided head-on with the logical arguments his ancestor was laying out. The words died in his throat. If he removed all the magical infrastructure from the world—the schools, the Ministries, the Aurors, the magic detectors—to take it with him to Mars, those born to Muggles who awakened their magic in the future would be left alone. Alone, frightened, and at the mercy of a magic-less humanity that, upon discovering them, would treat them as mere specimens to be studied in a laboratory.
Aurelian looked down at his hands, disarmed.
"That is," Aurelian stammered, scratching the back of his neck in frustration, "that is a very good question, Salazar. One to which, at this very moment, I have absolutely no answer."
Salazar Slytherin smiled at him from the painting.
"It's all very well to have goals and be ambitious in life, Aurelian. It's in our blood; it's our heritage," the founder advised him in a calm voice. "But true greatness requires patience. You must take it slow and consider absolutely every variable. You have to plan both for the scenario where everything goes right and for the moment when something doesn't go as planned. A true leader leaves no loose ends."
Aurelian nodded slowly, taking the advice in. He had to think of something to deal with those children. There were too many variables he hadn't considered.
Voldemort, who had remained silent on the sofa processing everything, finally rubbed his face with both hands and sighed.
"I need you, at some point, to explain all this about the planets and space to me much more calmly so I can fully understand it," admitted the Dark Lord, somewhat embarrassed that he knew nothing of what his son was talking about. "I still think it's absolute madness… but I'll help you with whatever you need, Aurelian."
Voldemort looked up and fixed his eyes on his son's, a strange warmth seeping into his voice.
"After all, you're my son. Supporting you in your madness is the least I can do for you."
Aurelian felt an unexpected lump in his throat. He looked at his father, the Dark Lord who once terrorized Great Britain, offering him his unconditional support to build a new world. Then he looked at Salazar's portrait, nodding approvingly.
"Thank you, Father. Thank you both, for the support and for the difficult questions today," Aurelian told them, his voice brimming with sincerity. "I still have time before this really starts to move forward. And as you rightly said, Salazar, it's better to take it slow. I'll make sure the plan is absolutely perfect before I even take the first step."
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