Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the world of Harry Potter, nor its characters, nor do I make money off of it, etc, etc.
This is my first story I have ever written, and I started posting it nearly two years ago on my sister's account, Lady Aramis, which you should check out (if you haven't already)! This story is complete and I will be moving it over to this account (my NEW account!) as quick as possible. This means I will be posting up to thirty-four chapters a day. Don't flame me.
Without further ado, here is the very first chapter of the biggest fanfic I've ever written (and probably will ever write): Enjoy!
Chapter One: The Burden
Thenight wet and windy, two children dressed as pumpkins waddling across the square, and the shop windows covered in paper spiders, all the tawdry Muggle trappings of a world in which they did not believe…
And he was gliding along, that sense of purpose and power and rightness in him that he always knew on these occasions… Not anger…that was for weaker souls than he…but triumph, yes… He had waited for this, he had hoped for it…
…along a new and darker street he moved, and now his destination was in sight at last, the Fidelius Charm broken, though they did not know it yet… And he made less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark hedge, and stared over it…
They had not drawn the curtains' he saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room, the tall black-haired man in his glasses, making puffs of coloured smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of the small black-haired boy in his blue pyjamas. The child was laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in his small fist…
A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he could not hear, her long dark-red hair falling over her face. Now the father scooped up the son and handed him to the mother. He threw his wand down upon the sofa and stretched, yawning…
The gate creaked as he pushed it open, but James Potter did not hear. His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door, which burst open.
He was over the threshold as James came sprinting into the hall. It was easy, too easy, he had not even picked up his wand…
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"
Hold him off, without a wand in his hand! … He laughed before casting the curse…
"Avada Kedavra!"The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut...
"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —"
"This is my last warning —"
"Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy… Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything —"
"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"
He could force her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all…
The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband. The child had not cried all this time: He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruder's face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing —
He pointed the wand very carefully into the boy's face: He wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger. The child began to cry: It had seen that he was not James. He did not like it crying, he had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanage —
He looked down at the whimpering boy. So this was the child who had the power to defeat him?
Brilliant, tear-filled green eyes met icy blue ones tinged with scarlet, "Avada—"
The pale-skinned man paused, lowering his wand as he remembered a conversation he had had with Severus, his spy, only a few days before.
"My Lord," Severus started, "forgive me, but I believe that the Potter boy could be useful to you."
"Really, Severus?" he had whispered softly, "Are you sure you're not just trying to prevent an old friend's son from being killed?"
"My lord — the prophecy — it only speaks of one with the power to vanquish you. Not that he actually will vanquish you — this power could prove to be useful to you."
"Perhaps. I will think on it," the Dark Lord had whispered, gazing at the young Death Eater pensively. "Now leave me. I tire of your company."
Severus bowed low to the ground and backed away on his knees.
Yes. Now that he actually thought about it those words did make sense. It was quite likely that the child might grow up to be a powerful aid to him—after all, the prophecy which Severus had overheard did not mention that the child would vanquish the Dark Lord, only that it would have the power to do so. It would be prudent to have the child raised in such a way that it would never even consider vanquishing him. Yes, that was a good plan.
The man was uncertain if he should raise the boy himself, though. He couldn't stand small children. He had never had any patience for the little ones at the orphanage.
Making up his mind, the Dark Lord nodded decisively. He thought furiously. It would do no good to allow Dumbledore to know that Voldemort had taken the prophecy child. The old coot would likely arrange an ill-conceived 'rescue' attempt to regain his infant saviour. No, the best thing to do would be to make the whole world believe Harry Potter was dead, and—Voldemort had sudden inspiration—him as well.
He would be able to lull the whole world into a false sense of security as he raised this child of prophecy to be his own heir. Once the boy had started Hogwarts he could resume his fight.
Voldemort cast a spell right in front of the door which created a scorch mark and did the same right in front of Harry's crib. Then he rubbed his wand in conjured ashes and left it there. The old fool would assume that both he and the boy had perished from a spell gone awry.
He pulled a spare wand out of a holster on his thigh and picked up the boy. The child stopped crying, startled, but stared at the pale man with wide eyes.
Voldemort then disapparated with the boy to a dark, lonely hill with an old house sitting atop it. The man calmly walked around the side of the grand old mansion, gazing at Slytherin Manor as he went. The child's head turned this way and that as it took in its new surroundings.
Voldemort had discovered this place in his twenties after a great deal of research and a ridiculous amount of ward-breaking. After claiming the decrepit property as his own, the young man had re-warded the Manor and its grounds to prevent intruders. It was even better warded than the infamous Black Townhouse, and young Tom Riddle was quite glad to have a home that was entirely his own.
After the war had started, the young Dark Lord had begun using this place as his base of operations, and had given a select few Inner Circle followers permanent access to the location—among them being Lucius Malfoy, his sister-in-law Bellatrix Lestrange, and the Dark Lord's young protégé Barty Crouch.
He went around back and unlocked the door. Voldemort then entered his study, a dark and practical room filled with books and a large oaken desk, and sat behind the desk there. He pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write. After a few minutes of writing he sealed the missive and handed it to an owl.
As the owl was flying out the window, Voldemort turned back towards the desk and began to think. He had sent a letter to Lucius telling him of his location and that he required his service. The Dark Lord would have to get some of his death eaters to infiltrate the ministry. It could be useful having influence over the Minister of Magic. He and the boy would also need aliases.
Suddenly Lucius apparated into his study. "You sent for me, my lord?" Lucius asked.
"Yes, Lucius," he replied, "I have decided that the Potter boy could be useful to me. I will need a few house elves to care for the boy. Also, in a few hours you will likely begin hearing reports of my death. If any inquiries are made, you will claim that you had no involvement in any Death Eater activities; if they give you any trouble, plead the Imperius curse and pull out some gold. I will give you compensation for any 'fees' necessary to clear your name."
He paused as Lucius took all this in, and then continued, "I also want you to bring Bellatrix here before she learns of my 'demise' and does something foolish. She will be assigned care of the child over your house-elves."
"Anything you need, my lord." Lucius said bowing his head slightly, "Rinkle! Dobby!" he shouted.
Two house elves apparated to the side of their master. One was ruddy and very old. The other was small and bouncy. He looked like he was very young.
"You two will go with the Dark Lord," Lucius commanded them, "You will do everything he says. Rinkle, Dobby, you now belong to the Dark Lord." They nodded and looked to Voldemort.
"Rinkle, you will be in charge of cooking our meals and all of the other house work," the old one nodded its head vigorously, "Dobby, you will be in charge of taking care of the boy. Give him whatever he wants or needs. You are under his command too," He handed the boy to Dobby, "Now go."
"You may leave as well, Lucius. I want Bellatrix here as soon as possible, remember that."
Dobby was so happy. He had just started serving the Malfoys when Master had called him. Next thing he knew he was serving the Dark Lord and looking after the boy. A child! What every house elf dreams of.
After Lucius had left Slytherin Manor, Voldemort began brewing a Blood Adoption potion and an Everlasting Spell potion. He would use the Blood Adoption potion to make the child biologically his own son, adding to James Potter's genetics to make the boy look like less of a Potter.
The Everlasting Spell potion was more complex. It would make any potion drunk or any spell cast on its consumer permanent and unreversable. The potion lasted for exactly one hour after being drunk, so he had to act quickly.
He pulled out a knife and prodded his finger, drawing blood. He let one drop fall into the cauldron of Blood Adoption potion before magically sealing up the cut. The potion turned scarlet, signalling its completion. The Everlasting Spell potion had already been finished and a portion poured into a vial, so the Dark Lord took a vial of the Blood Adoption potion as well and went to the nursery.
Harry was sitting on the floor playing with toys when Voldemort entered. "Dobby, make the boy drink this," he commanded the house elf, holding out the vial of Everlasting Spell.
"Yes, master!" Dobby squeaked immediately. The little elf then coaxed Harry into drinking it. Immediately after, Voldemort set to work.
He had Harry drink the Blood Adoption potion next. The child's hair lightened from black to a brown similar to Voldemort's own and his emerald eyes became a very pale shade of green. Voldemort then aged Harry by two years. The boy instantly grew slightly and lost a bit of his infant chubbiness. After the Everlasting Spell potion wore off Harry Potter had become three-year-old Harish Blake.
Voldemort had seen the newspaper earlier: "—the most awful thing he has ever done, killing an infant boy. Only luck could have allowed for You-Know-Who to be killed as well." This disguise would prevent anyone from mistaking his heir for Harry Potter.
Eventually over the next year, Harish stopped asking about his parents. Later, since he was forbidden to call Voldemort uncle, the boy began to call him something else. Something Voldemort still couldn't get used to.
Harish grew older under the care of Dobby and Bellatrix Lestrange and years flew by while Voldemort tutored Harish to prepare for Hogwarts.
As the boy grew older, Voldemort's features began to become prominent in the boy's face because of the Blood Adoption potion; it officially made him Voldemort's son, even affecting his appearance. No one would ever suspect him of being James Potter's son—cousin, maybe, but then, everyone in the pureblood world was a cousin of some sort. The Dark Lord's plan was safe.
As I wrote this over two years ago, it is a bit sloppy, but we all had to start somewhere (though it would have been MUCH worse had Lady Aramis not been editing it for me). I promise it gets WAY better. Now, for some questions:
How do you think Harry (or Harish) will fare as the son of the Dark Lord? Will people ever find out who he really is?
See you in the near future amidst the pages of my story! (hopefully)