AN: I haven't been able to write much due to a wrist injury few month ago. My wrist was more or less totaled. Expensive surgery followed by more expensive physical therapy has me somewhat functional. Means I will be writing a bit more often but we will see. Updates will probably be sporadic. Although I have about next three chapter worth of material worked out, who knows when they will be done.

That said, I have posted a Hagrid in Westeros with Arya as his side-kick story. Completely breaks the story line after Harrenhal. Check that one out.

Pairing will be Voldemort/Val/Dacey/Margery/Dany. Not exactly like Voldie is going to marry them all but more like he starts a relationship with them all and like an idiot who had never really been in a proper relationship, entertains the viewers.

I have had readers asking questions regarding where the story is going and for now, it is mostly Voldemort hurting the rich muggles of Southern kingdoms – emotionally or otherwise. Unlike other stories where northerners tend to go about stomping the southerners, Voldemort has a different gameplan – chaos. All he wants is to raise the North as a kingdom of wizard and the rest of world can go hang itself. Let there be chaos. Something like a television show for the megalomaniacal dark lord.

I will probably start answering PMs sometimes during mid-July. My physical therapist is a complete bastard about taking it slow when it comes to computer. Thing is, when I walked into the office, there were two therapist – the first was a rat bastard. Second one was a babe who could put Lena Headey to shame. I was praying for the sex on legs to be assigned to me. Unfortunately for me, a plus size woman got the hottie and I had to work with the rat bastard. Irony of life. Worse, my insurance covers only a part of my physical therapy and it is bloody expensive.

This chapter is short, but next will be longer.

Table of Contents

Direwolves 1

Lord Voldemort, Research Yard, Volcano Town (POV: LV) 4

This was the latest deserter amongst the many that had happened in last few years. Somehow, the watch had made a habit of losing it's soldiers to cowardice lately and that trend did not seem to show any signs of stopping. The only difference between this deserter and the many deserters before was that Lord Voldemort had shown a personal interest in this one. The lord himself had decided to perform the execution or so everyone had assumed. Everyone as in his mother, the queen Cersei (who happened to be his Lady mother's not-so-secret paramour), his uncle, his aunt and even the household guards. Only the death eaters knew better. But again, they always knew better when it came to there lord and they never bothered to enlighten those who need-not-be enlightened.

The execution spot was drab, just like most of the North. Cold. Deary. Dry even. As the small party including the Stark household (as in the whole household, counting the Ladies. Lord Voldemort's mother had done away with, in her words "ridiculious", notion that women can't attend execution) stood around the deserter, Voldemort approached man and spoke, "Deserter – any last words?"

The deserter blinked his eyes a bit. Perhaps amazed that he was allowed to speak? Then he started to tell his story. A story about where cold raised the dead. A story of dead walking. A story of white walkers. The long night.

Everyone except the death eaters and Voldemort were shaken. Ned Stark shook himself and, "Nephew – this is preposterous. This man is clearly delusional. He is nothing but a coward who has made up this elaborate fantasy to run away from his vows."

Some nodded at his statement, some looked undecided. Voldemort on the other hand simply answered, "Perhaps. Perhaps this man is delusional. Then in that case, the other 100 or so deserters, were they all delusional? I have been told by you and the other lords that all of them were exhibiting signs of fear and dismay. Extreme case of fear, hopelessness. Were they all executed without interviewing?"

Ned Stark gave a simple answer, "The law is clear nephew. Any man who deserts the night watch must die. No exceptions."

"Perhaps. But, decisions made in panic does not reflect upon a man. Even then, so many hardened men showing similar signs of fear should have raised concern. It should have been brought to my attention."

Ned Stark and the other senior guardsmen start to fidget a bit. LV continued, "I am inclined to believe that you and the other lords decided to follow the law without stopping to think. For that, you have the benefit of doubt."

They all knew LV wasn't one for mercy, especially when it came to incompetency, and that this was an olive branch. A chorus of thank you came around. "For now, this man will live. I wish to know what he knows or at least what he believes. He is remanded to the custody of Death Eaters."

Soon after that, the party started to make their way home. Some of the men, especially the old guards were a bit grumpy about the young lord's action but none were foolish enough to challenge him or even appear to challenge him.

Halfway to Winterfell, the party came to an abrupt halt. A giant wolf, that seemed to have just given birth was lying prostrate in front of them. Six tiny pups were yapping around the mother wolf in a futile attempt to get her to move but she was clearly in her death bed. [AN: Unlike canon where the mother-wolf dies due to a stag, thus indicating that Baratheon being the death of Starks, in this story, nothing can truly threaten Voldemort. So, the wolf is dying due to birthing fever.]

The elder Starks, mainly Ned and Lyanna thought of how only 15 years ago Lyanna was in a similar situation. Even Voldemort was reminded of the same. No matter how much of a cold hearted maniac he was, letting a mother die in her deathbed was unacceptable. The whole Potter business was an exception anyway.

Jorry Cassel was the first to break the silence, "What kind of freak is that?"

Ned Stark who had adopted a stony look answered, "Not a freak. A dire wolf."

Another soldier replied, "A dire wolf this far south? White walkers. Dire wolves. Not good I tell you."

Cassel in his all knowing persona spoke, "My Lord, I think it is best we put them all down. The bitch is in pain and the pups won't live long without their mother."

At that the Stark children (Robb, Arya, Rickon) gave horrific shout and the ladies (Lyanna, Cersei and Ashara) prepared to tear him a new asshole. Ned was about to agree when the steely, venomous look in his nephews eyes stopped him. One thing he had learned over the years was that whenever Tom got that look, it meant he was beyond angry. He had that look when Robert tried to lord over in Winterfell. The same look came when he was informed of how Tully delayed his crossing through Riverlands. And the same look was there when Martells were found to be complicit in his mothers suffering. Well Jorry Cassell, I can't help you – Ned thought.

A bone chilling voice permeated thorough the winter air, "Ser Cassell, I do not like idiots. I do not like upstart. And you seem to be both. Who do you think you are to advocate the killing of beings such as these? Beings far superior then your pathetic self?" Every word was delivered with a venomous hiss but wrapped in a monostrous growl.

Cassell, seeing the hot bed he was in, "My Lord, please I did not mean to offend.."

"But you did Ser Cassell. You did offend very much. You wanted to kill these wolves. A mercy you said, didn't you? In fact, I will give you the same mercy that you wished for them. If any of these wolves die, so will you."

Alarmed, he shouted, "My Lord, surely you do not mean that?"

"I very much mean it Cassell. Be very glad that I have not included your family. You attempted to kill totems of my house, by all rights I should eradicate your line."

Cassell and indeed, many of the other men who might have thought the dire wolves were not meant to be around here paled at that. They all knew Lord Voldemort placed value on many seemingly insignificant things. Slights made against House Stark or even the North thousands of years ago had been paid in full by him after all. He was also known for punishing anyone who desecrated or even looked at his house banner wrong. So killing the totem of his house? That was indeed a crime worthy of eradicating an entire generation. To the lord anyway.

Ned Stark, sensing the grim situation and potential for destruction of Cassell line, "My Lord, perhaps we should send Cassell here to Winterfell. Have him bring carts, water and food for the wolves? Maybe some warm fur too?"

Without looking at anyone, Voldemort threw, "Aye – make it so Cassell. Best hurry up fool, for the wolf dies, you die."

Just like that, Jorry Cassell and some of the men took off towards Winterfell while the rest of them stared as Lord Voldemort approached the wolf.

The mother wolf was lying down, incapable of moving on its own but that did not stop her from making threatening gesture to the humans. After all, she had to rightly assume that the two-legged creatures meant harm to her litter. Some of the humans left for parts unknown while one of the two-legged ones, perhaps their alpha?, slowly walked towards her.

Tom knew what it was like to be weak, cornered and surrounded. He had a pretty good idea as to the wolf's mindset. Fortunately for him, the wolf was incapable of moving and as such, there was no risk of him being wolfed down.

Slowly, he approached the mother wolf and pushed a bit of magic, just like he had done with his own mother back in Tower of Joy ages ago. That tiny bit of magic seemed to rejuvenate the wolf. Breathed a new life into the previously dying creature.

The wolf realized something. Whatever the human did, it healed her. Not enough to run around, but enough that it no longer hurt. Enough that she was not longer in pain. This particular human was not an enemy, that much she knew. A friend even. Her pups, who had so far just tried to get her to respond started to suckle for milk. All six of them. Even the tiny, albino runt.

Around them, everyone were simply amazed. The idea that Lord Voldemort could befriend a giant direwolf by just approaching it seemed to be ludicrous. Then, Lyanna, without thinking jumped off her horse and walked towards the pair.

"We need to get her cloaked son. It is getting cold and she is not completely hale and hearty yet", and draped her cloak over the nursing mother. Instantly, a connection formed between the two mothers – one human, the other wolf. Apparently, all the younger Starks and the Lady Stark were getting a personal animal guard.

Every rich man has to have a bachelor pad. For an aimless, rich idiot that means an isolated place filled with all amenities he could ever desire so that the idiot can impress some big-titted airhead bimbo. But, I was a very rich, very powerful lord. I had no need for a bachelor pad to impress big tits or a place to conduct my illict affair. I did whatever I pleased.

That said, I did need a quiet, private place to conduct my magical experiments. My research. So, I had my own research yard. You could say, my home was my bachelor pad. And I maintained my research yard for my illicit affair. Makes me sound like a muggle geek, don't it? Laugh and I will just crucio you.

The unnamed research yard was a secret known only to a few of my top death eaters and no one else. Not even mother herself. That was where I conducted all my experiments.

During the takeover of the Three Sisters and subsequent campaign in Riverrun, one thing became abundantly clear. We needed a way to supplement our sentries that patroled camp ground. Apparently, enemy scouts had been able to approach the Northern encampment under the cover of darkness. Thankfully, unlike the muggles of Earth, these muggles lacked the mental aptitude towards war – otherwise, they might have wrecked havoc by setting the place on fire or something innane. The answer? We needed something like guard dogs. The muggles used german shepard and various breds of attack dogs to extreme effect. But copying a page from them would be too pedestrian for me.

The symbol of House Stark was a direwolf. Intimidating. Fierce. And rare. As such, completely useless when it came to battle. A basilisk stood for House Slytherin. An incarnation of death which can be killed by the crow of a rooster. If it wasn't a bad joke, then what else could it be?.

That meant I had to find an animal which did not have any such obvious weakness. Even better, an animal which I could bred the way I wanted. The answer was cereberus. Hell hound. The three headed dog that guarded hell's gate. The three headed dog with a serpent for its tail.

Unlike basilisk which was bred by incubating a chicken egg under a frog for almost two years (AN: I am making that number for the hell of it), Cerberus on the other hand was much easier to bred. The unenlightened might think a three headed dog would have to be either a magical bred or a mutant. The truth however, was far more simpler. All it took was exposing a pregnant female dog that had eaten a venomous snake to hell fire in such a manner that instead of being burned by the unholy fire, the dog would absorb it. Not particularly easy, not even for an accomplished necromancer. Fortunately, I was more then an accomplished necromancer.

Note that hell hound from the greek mythologies had no weakness compared to the common cereberus of wizarding world which would fall asleep when exposed to music.

Initially, I thought to use some of the regular bred of dogs as the starting point of my cerberuses. Then I had an inspiration. Why not use direwolves? That ought to make the outcome even better right? I already had a direwolf bitch and her litter of pups. But, I needed more. So, it was time to scour the wilderness beyond the wall [AN:Details of Trip beyond the wall will be in later chapter] and voila, I dragged a whole pack of direwolves home. Before hand, I had a single direwolf bitch along with its pups, who were all bonded to individual younger members of the Stark family. Now? I had a full pack of them. Having a pack of living, breathing symbol of my own damn house added more power to my reputation.

Soon enough, I had five pregnant direwolf bitches with belly full of cobras and vipers, exposed to hellfire and as such, five litters Cerberus puppies on their way. The only question was how to explain those hell dogs to the general populace. My dark lord days were much easier. Never had to explain anything to anyone. Understanding, not important. Only obedience important. And the populace knew that.

But, this time around, I was playing the long game and so, could not go throwing crucios around like candies. Well, that reminds me of the crucio rods I made as an alternative to throwing crucios like candies. You will see them soon enough.

For now, the cerberus were all housed in my private research yard in Volcano Town, also where I perfected my crucio rods.

Crucio Rods? Well, none of my death eaters could use a wand as of yet. The potion required for the ritual that would unlock their magical pathways wasn't done. It would be a few more years for that. So, crucio rods were my stop gap measure.

Those rods were nothing but a hollow metal rod filled with a few exotic substance. And charmed to mimic the effect of crucio. A dial was provided to adjust the strength of cruciatius curse. As usual, each rod was blood bound to their owner and set to be summoned back to me if lost. Can't afford to have my enemies getting their hands of these sweet little things.

I intended to introduce these gems as the find of Valayrian expedition. [AN: details on later chapter] It would a marvellous way to show how the Valayrian Freehold wasn't all that civilized. It would be an excellent way to shutdown the pie-hole of all idiots who dared put those Valayrian goat fuckers on a pedestals and call us savages.