(A/N: I've never written a story like this before and I'm not entirely sure how it's going to play out. So bear with me as things change and develop. I can tell you right now that in this story, Lucius, Severus, and Voldemort are the good guys, and that Dumbledore is not. This has mentions of child abuse and features eventual Harry/Lucius/Severus/Voldemort as a ship. But it's a slow build because it starts out in Harry's childhood. So if you have any problems with stuff like that, you'd best be leaving now. Anyway, I haven't decided the alignment of anyone besides those mentioned, so pretty much everything is still up in the air. Well, I hope you like it!)
The North Wind Blows
Harry Potter was 9 years old, but he was no larger than the average 5 year old and no heavier than a 3 year old. By all standards he should have been dead ages ago, only by the sheer will of his magic was he still alive.
In fact he was certain that he was dying now. He had spilled the bacon that morning after Dudley had kicked his stool out from under him. Vernon had not taken kindly to that fact and had beaten him with the hot skillet.
Covered in burns, cuts, welts, and the like he lay in his cupboard trying not to sob. He could feel his ribs click and shift each time he breathed and it felt like he had water in his lungs. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. He felt his head bleeding and knew his pillow was soaked in blood, for which he would surely be punished.
It was dark outside his door and he couldn't hear the telly so he knew that the Dursley family was asleep. But he didn't know how much good that would do him. Still, he closed his eyes and wished with all his might for someone to save him.
Part of him imagined the green light that had killed his parents killing the Dursleys. He imagined someone taking him away as three sets of lifeless eyes watched them go. Perhaps it was bad of him to wish for such things, but he didn't care.
Just then there was a hideous noise of splintering wood and shattering glass. The whole cupboard shook as a bright light flashed through the front entrance.
"The muggles are upstairs, restrain them and bring them to me. I will deal with the boy," a smooth voice all but hissed and at least two pairs of feet went rapidly up the stairs.
The door to his cupboard was wrenched open and light flooded in, revealing to him a man with blue eyes and shiny black hair. The man was holding a strip of wood in his hand and had it pointed directly at Harry.
"H—hello?" Harry said and coughed up a spray of blood. The figure in the door frowned at once and a blue light emerged from the stick. It felt warm as it settled into his chest and his pain eased. His breathing became easier and he swore he felt his ribs moving on their own.
"Come to me Harry. I will not harm you," the man said and Harry stepped forward. He was swiftly wrapped in and embrace, warmth sinking into his shivering form. With another whispered word, the wound on his head burned and knitted together.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, shocked that someone would hold him so close and be so gentle.
"I am Lord Voldemort, surely you know who I am, don't you Harry?" the man asked and Harry shook his head.
"No sir," he whispered meekly and Voldemort blinked in shock. He tilted the boy's head up and met green eyes with his own. Gently he probed the child's mind and winced at all that he saw. The abuse at the hands of his relatives, the fantasies of revenge, the murder of his parents, all of it.
As gently as he had entered he pulled away from Harry's mind. The boy was shaking and still covered in a vast array of injuries. Voldemort had only healed the potentially lethal collapsed lung, and the mind altering concussion. The rest would require the careful attention of his Potion's Master, Severus.
"You'll know me very well very soon, I promise you that Harry," Voldemort assured and the boy smiled, hugging the tall man around the neck.
"Are you here to take me away then?" Harry asked, no one ever used his name so consistently, or so nicely, he enjoyed it immensely.
"Yes I am Harry, and you know what else?" Voldemort lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I promise with all that I am that one day, when you are ready, you will have your revenge," he said and it was the first time that someone had promised him something so wonderful. Harry couldn't help but smile.
But with a hissed word, the boy's world went black and he sagged in the Dark Lord's arms.
"The family is restrained my Lord," came the silken voice of Severus Snape. He was followed closely by Lucius Malfoy who trailed the bound and unconscious bodies of the Dursley family behind him.
"To the dungeons with them. Separate them and shrink their cells. Severus the boy is in dire need of your special skills," Voldemort said and stood with the severely malnourished, utterly tiny child in his arms.
"Of course my Lord," Severus said with a bow and together with the unconscious Dursleys they left the scene.
(A/N: It was short, I know, but there is more to come and this should go fairly quickly because I'm writing it out at a pretty good clip. So, I hope you liked it and will consider leaving me a review.)