Hey guys, I'm back with a brand new story thanks to all the PM's I received about them, this one came out on top! I know there are a few 'Harry is the Dark Lord's son', however I don't think there are many, if any, like this, but I'll let you be the ones to decide that. Hopefully you all like it, so on with the story,

The Dark Heir,


The Dark Lord Voldemort was furious as he strode quickly and purposely towards a large cottage at the end of the street. How dare that bitch try and keep his son away from him. Running back to that weak minded fool Potter and going in to hiding, as if that would work forever. It had taken 15 months, but he had her cornered. Lily Potter would pay dearly and he would have his son back with him, he may be the cold, cruel, sadistic Dark Lord, but he had always wanted a son and heir. Lord Voldemort stopped outside the cottage and sneered, with elegant grace he walked to the front door and blew it of the hinges. James Potter ran out wandless and Voldemort had thrown an AK at him before he could speak a word, he caught sight of Lily running up the stairs and sighed; she should know. Climbing the stairs silently, he made his way to the Nursery and forced his way in, she was stood in front of the crib shielding it from him.

"I won't let you take him, I won't let you have my child." She yelled at him and Voldemort chuckled coldly.

"He is my child and I will be the one to raise him, you have no say in the matter."

"You're too cruel to ever be allowed a child, you're a monster."

"My heir will be a Prince, I will raise him better than you ever could." He spat at her, he had finally had enough and killed her with a flick of his wand. Slowly he approached the crib and when he saw his child he withheld his growl, they had glamoured his child to look like the spawn of Potter; it could be fixed. Before he could even lift his heir there was a crack of apperation and Albus Dumbledore stood in the small nursery much to the Dark Lord's ire.

"Why are you doing this Tom?" The aged man asked.

"He is my son."

"The child is far better off without you, it is wrong for a child to grow up in harm's way."

"I would never harm a child, especially my own." Voldemort snarled stepping away from the crib, it wouldn't do to harm his heir by accident. It was lucky he did because the old fool decided to draw his wand and begin a duel, it was getting heated when Voldemort threw the dreaded Avada Kedavra, Dumbledore conjured a mirror and redirected the curse; directly at the Dark Lord's son. Lord Voldemort felt his heart stop.

"No!" He screamed when he realised there was nothing he could do, he watched in slow motion and the curse sped towards the child and hit him on the forehead. What neither wizard expected was for the spell to rebound and the Dark Lord was so shocked and thankful that he didn't move in time and the curse slammed in to him. Pain beyond anything he had ever felt tore through him as his soul was forcefully ripped from his body; he fled. He would gain his body back and his son would be returned to him. Dumbledore watched as the disembodied spirit of the Dark Lord fled with glee and turned towards the boy, the child, Harry Lily called him, was fine apart from a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. It was then the aged headmaster began plotting. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Voldemort would return, but he could not have such a powerful child with that man, he would limit the child's magic and hide the boy, make him grow up ignorant of who and what he was. He would place him in a place where he would crave attention and never question authority, and he would make sure Tom never saw hide or hair of his heir until it was too late. With that thought he picked up the boy and apperated to Privet drive, waving his wand over the boy he locked away half of the available magic, he placed the child on the doorstep of number four with a quick letter before apperating away; he had news to spread. Albus Dumbledore, known for being the greatest sorcerer since Merlin, would only know how wrong he was in making such a decision until it was much too late and Albus Dumbledore would be powerless to stop what he, and he alone, had created.

Somewhere in the other worlds, Death and Fate threw back their heads and laughed each for different reasons, Death because the manipulative old man had just signed over numerous people's lives and Fate because whatever she was planning to use to spice up the mortal lands was nothing compared to this; it promised to be an interesting outcome.

There it is, the prologue to The Dark Heir, I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think and if I should continue or move on to another story.