Harry Riddle: Son of Voldemort
A Kidnapping Adoption
The hooded figure looked at the small cottage in front of him. His informant, a sniveling little man, told him that this is where the Potters hid. The man walked slowly up the stone pathway that led to the front door. His wand snaked out of his sleeve and the door burst open, flying off of its hinges.
"Lily it's him! Take Harry and go! Run! I'll hold him off!" the man was screaming. The hooded figure saw a glimpse of red hair running away, up the stairs with a swaddle in her arms. Ignoring her for a moment, the hooded figure turned to the man, and with an eased point of his wand a flash of bright green light shot out of it, the man falling dead.
The hooded figure made his way up the stairs. He could hear the woman hushing a crying baby in a room nearby. When he found that the room was barricade, he blasted it open like he had the front door and stepped inside.
The woman was standing in front of a crib where the child was crying. "Move aside you foolish girl," the figure commanded.
"No," the woman said. She was wandless, but it was obvious to the hooded figure that she will try and protect the boy. Foolish woman.
"You do not have to die, simply move aside," the hooded figure said again.
He was quickly losing patience with her. "Foolish woman," he said out loud before there was another flash of light green light and the woman screamed the child's name as she died.
He stepped over the woman's body and peered into the crib. A handsome baby boy, a year old by the looks of it, he had striking green eyes that stared at the hooded figure as well as messy black hair. The figure pulled off his hood revealing a handsome face with brown eyes and neat hair. He looked to be around his thirties, though he was much older. "You are the one who'll be my downfall?" Lord Voldemort sneered. "Pathetic."
He looked at the dead woman for a moment. Harry, she called him, he thought. Turning back to the child he smirked. "You will be someone's downfall, but not mine," he said as he picked up the child. "Harry Potter… you will be the Light's downfall."
Holding the child close to him, Voldemort vanished from the home. He appeared at old Riddle Manor. Carrying the child in one arm, he used his other to wave his wand around, fixing the damages that time have caused on the old manor. He needed a place to hide the child, a place where Dumbledore would never look for, a place where Voldemort can disappear from public view until the time is right. He looked down at the child and smirked again. "Let Dumbledore believe that they have won for now… for I have gained their greatest prize."
After making sure that the child was safely away sleeping in a crib, Voldemort decided that he needed elves, servants who will do the duties of child raising that he did not care about to do. He apparated to Malfoy Manor where his closest follower, Lucius Malfoy, had a child a little older than Harry.
"My Lord," Lucius Malfoy said, falling to his knees in shocked. "What do you honor your presences—"
"Show me the diary," Voldemort commanded.
"Y-Yes my Lord…. If you follow me," Lucius Malfoy stuttered as he got to his feet. He led Voldemort into a nearby hallway that led to a spacious office. The walls were stuffed with books, and Voldemort only gave a glancing look as Lucius Malfoy walked to a far off bookcase and pulled away several thick books, revealing a small ordinary black diary.
"Good," Voldemort said. "I will be going soon, you will not hear of me for quite time, but I shall return expecting full loyalty. In the meantime… I will be taking your elves."
"Yes… five should do nicely," Voldemort said. "Summon them now and hand them to me."
"Yes my Lord," Lucius Malfoy said. He took his cane and tapped it against the floor five times. Five loud cracks snapped through the air and five house-elves dressed in sacks with the Malfoy emblem appeared in the room. "You five will serve my Lord. You are no longer my possession, but my Lord's."
"Yes, sir," the five elves squeaked. They turned to Voldemort and bowed deeply, their noses touching the floor.
Voldemort regarded them momentarily. "Go to my manor and wait," he commanded. The elves all disappeared with the same loud crack as they appeared in the manor. There was a sound of a child crying and Lucius Malfoy looked extremely apologetic.
"M-My Lord I am sorry…" he said. "My son—he should have been sleeping."
Voldemort ignored Lucius and turned to follow the noise. Malfoy hurried after him as the Dark Lord took quick strides out of the office, down the corridor, and into the main room. "My Lord, you do not need to worry yourself—my house-elves will deal with my son," Lucius said as he tried his best to keep up with Voldemort as ascended a grand staircase to the second floor.
The screaming was coming from Voldemort's left, he followed it down a corridor to an opened-door room. It was a child's room with a bookcase filled with books and toys, and a changing station that had wipes and diapers. The crying child was in a crib made of a dark wood. Voldemort looked into the crib to see a rather big child with blond hair and silver eyes. Voldemort moved away from the crying child then looked around the room.
"My Lord… the house-elves will take care of him," Malfoy huffed, but Voldemort quickly filtered out his voice. The Dark Lord continued to look around the room, noting the stuffed animals and play-toys littering the floor. "My Lord!"
Voldemort snapped his fingers and one of the five house-elves appeared. "Copy this room, I require the nursery to be furnished exactly like this," the Dark Lord commanded.
"Yes, Master," the elf bowed before vanishing again.
Voldemort turned to Lucius and walked past him, leaving the room. Lucius followed Voldemort down into the manor's foyer, trying to get the man's attention but Voldemort acted like he could not hear him. Instead he walked out of the manor, and disappeared into the air.
It took the house elves two weeks to furnish Harry's room and during that time the Wizarding World celebrated Voldemort's defeat. The Dark Lord hear news and read on the Daily Prophet of how Britain believes Voldemort to be dead, and began calling Harry "The Boy Who Lived" due to a statement given by Dumbledore, who claims to have hidden the boy somewhere safe. The Dark Lord has also read, to little personal lost, that his informant was killed by Harry's godfather Sirius Black, who is now serving a sentence in Azkaban.
Crying filled the room and Voldemort sighed as he placed down his newspaper. "Harry Riddle… why are you crying?" The child was playing with a doll, whose head somehow got torn off. Voldemort gave an annoyed sigh and waved his wand, the head of the doll sewing itself back on.
Harry looked over at the large man sitting on the seat and smiled, "Daddy," he said.
"Yes, yes," Voldemort muttered, returning to his newspaper. He felt a tug at his robes and looked down to see Harry standing in front of him, looking up at the man. "What?"
Harry looked at him, his little finger pointing to the wand as he tried his best to enunciate. "Sn—Snnnn—snnnnnnnakke."
"Snake?" Voldemort asked. Harry nodded and smiled. "Say it correctly, boy."
"Fine," Voldemort said, looking clearly annoyed. He waved his wand and a small snake fizzled out of his wand, flying through the air before disappearing. The child laughed and looked at Voldemort expectantly. "Snake!"
"Snake!" Harry squeezed his fist angrily and swung it against Voldemort's leg, punching him.
"Hey! No hitting," Voldemort yelled out. He flicked his wand and Harry flew into the air. Voldemort moved his wand towards Harry's room and the child floated there, landing in his crib. The boy's screams quickly filled the house and Voldemort scowled, irritated.
"Make sure the brat does not leave his crib for the next hour," he commanded the house-elves before waving his wand, Harry's door shutting. Finally having comfortable silence, Voldemort relaxed in his chair and returned to his newspaper, his mind going towards Harry and his ultimate plan.
When Harry turned four he became extremely inquisitive. He would always look up at Voldemort, squinting, and ask "Daddy what happened to my mummy and other daddy?" or "Daddy, why can't you let me go out and play? I saw other kids I want to play with!"
These questions annoyed Voldemort to no end, but the Dark Lord have long ago given up on pushing the questions away and instead answered them no matter if it was the fifth or tenth time Harry asked them. "Your parents are dead, I'm raising you now," was Voldemort's mantra whenever Harry asked about his birth parents.
"But why can't I go outside then?" the little boy huffed. He was small for his age, and Voldemort did not like the way he always squinted at him.
"You want to know why, Harry? Look outside," Voldemort pointed out of the window where it was storming. "The world is cruel, the world is wicked. It's I alone whom you can trust in this whole city. I am your only friend… I who keep you, teach you, feed you, dress you, Harry. How can I protect you Harry unless you stay in here? Out there they'll use you as a tool, out there they'll won't see the boy past the fame. Why invite their calumny and consternation? Stay in here."
"But what about—"
"Later. Now you need to stay with me where I can keep an eye on you Harry," Voldemort said.
"Okay Daddy," Harry sighed.
"Good… speaking of, why are you constantly squinting at me? It's annoying," The Dark Lord said.
"I…I can't see without doing it," Harry said, frowning.
Voldemort scoffed. "You need glasses then," he stated. "I will find a place to go later this week."
Fully annoyed, and not wanting to risk Harry being found by any wizard, Voldemort was thankful that he decided to glamor his body during the war, making him look complete different to his actual looks. He left the manor the next day and walked down to the village at the bottom of the hill. The muggles stared at him as Voldemort walked down the streets, dressed in a suit. It took him most of the morning to find an optometrist in a general doctors' building. Later that afternoon Voldemort brought Harry to the doctor's building, and after an eye exam the two learned what Voldemort expected: Harry needed glasses. The eye doctor allowed Harry to pick out what frames he wanted, the boy picking a simple black round frames. A few hours later Harry walked home with his Daddy smiling brightly as he looked around at the clear world through his new glasses. He thanked his Daddy for the glasses when they got home, hugging the man tightly.
Voldemort stared down at Harry. The young child looked up at Voldemort, his eyes dazzling. "Thank you, I can see!" he said.
"You are welcome… Harry," Voldemort said. He petted Harry's head awkwardly and looked around, thankful that none of the elves were there to witness the affection. Harry separated from the Dark Lord and took his hand, smiling softly. "Daddy," he said as they continued their way home, "can I ask you something?"
"As if you asked for permission before," the Dark Lord said. "What is it?"
"Why don't I know your name?" Harry asked. "I only know you as Daddy. And the elves only call you 'Master.' So, what is your name?"
Voldemort frowned slightly. He looked down at Harry for a moment. "I will tell you when we get home," he said.
"Fine," Harry huffed, though Voldemort could clearly see that the child wanted to know this instance and not wait the ten minutes it will take them to walk home. The child has his arms crossed and pouted the rest of the way, glaring up impatiently at Voldemort.
The second they've stepped onto their properties and Harry felt the wards that Voldemort placed over their house, he turned to Voldemort and said, "Now will you tell me?"
"Impatient brat," Voldemort sneered, annoyed.
"You told me you would tell me your name—ahh!" Voldemort lifted Harry into the air and carried him to the nearest seat where he placed the boy over his lap.
"My name, you impatient, foolish boy," Voldemort sneered. "Is Tom"—SMACK—"Marvolo"—SMACK—"Riddle." SMACK. "I am the Dark"—SMACK—"Lord"—SMACK— "Voldemort,"—SMACK—"And no one talks to me in such a tone!" SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. SMACK.
Tears welled in Harry's eyes as his butt felt very sore, stinging from Voldemort's harsh smacks. He looked over his shoulder to see that his Daddy was looking furious, his fingers flexing as if readying for another spank. "I-I'm sorry Daddy," Harry cried. "I'll—I'll try an' be more patient."
Voldemort gave Harry one final spank before sliding the boy off of his lap. "Go to your room, Harry," he commanded.
"Yes Daddy," Harry sniffled. He walked towards the stairway and looked back at Voldemort. "Daddy?"
"Thank you for telling me your name," Harry said.
"You're welcome, now go to your room," Voldemort said. Harry nodded and slowly climbed the steps. Voldemort watched until Harry disappeared into the corridors that led to their rooms. The man gave a sigh and shook his head. Retreating to his study, the Dark Lord poured himself a glass of scotch and summoned a house-elf. "Take away Harry's toys for half an hour and make him do some of his remaining schoolwork I've given him," he ordered, and the house-elf disappeared. Alone again, Voldemort settled in a comfortable chair with a book, ignoring the couple of snakes that slithered into the room.
As he read the snakes slithered their way to their lord and hissed in his ear, telling him of the ongoing of the Wizarding World. Seven years until the boy is able to go to Hogwarts. Seven years until Dumbledore gets to see personally what the Dark Lord is doing to The Boy Who Lived. Until then Voldemort had to stay his hand, not let his anger and rage get the better of him. He was certain that he and Po—Riddle can survive together under the same roof. After all, the boy clearly loves him as his "Daddy." They can certainly survive together for seven more years.