Hmm... guess a few notes before I get started: Barty Crouch is a bit OOC because he's so influenced by the Tenth Doctor (Curse you David Tennant!). And if something doesn't seem to make sense I urge you to read further because explanations take time when you want to keep the timing right.
The pictures pasted to the walls were not the pictures of regular six-year-old boys. They were often bloody, gory pictures. Or, as gory and bloody as they could be considering they were drawn by the clumsy, crude hands of a small child.
Most were of several large black shapes shooting squiggles across the paper at helpless humanoid creatures who looked like they were dying painfully. Some included a large green snake surrounding the largest, and more obvious black shape. All of the horrific masterpieces had originated from the small dark-haired boy sitting on his bed coloring on a silver tray in the large room. He was coloring furiously on his next piece of work: a small humanoid with dark hair holding hands with a tall man and a light-haired woman. Behind the boy was the looming and formless dark shape present in most of the art around the room. The green snake had twisted itself around the group to make a house shape and a small cradle had strayed off into the corner.
As the boy finished coloring the picture, he jumped off his bed and tore out of his room, the paper trapped in his tiny hands.
He ran as quick as a small six-year-old could down long dark halls covered with paintings of distinguished people and places. Silver snakes decorated random places along the walls and the carpet. He stopped after running down a flight of stairs in front of a large set of double doors with snakes carved into the wood and the door knobs leading to the dining room, where Harry's father was holding a meeting.
He couldn't hear anything that was going on, but he was sure there were people inside, as he'd watched some of them enter the room before running off to color more of his pictures earlier this morning. He loved coloring and his family loved the pictures, and now he couldn't wait to show off his latest, and probably greatest, masterpiece.
Now he just had to wait, something not as easy as it sounds for a small six-year-old boy.
But soon after he arrived, the doors opened and people began filing out. The made sure to avoid the boy, giving small, quick bows and curtsies as they passed him. He stared mindlessly back at them, searching for the face he wanted.
A tall man with blonde hair combed back and a long, dark, elegant cloak clasped around his throat exited the dining room after almost everyone else left. He saw the small boy and his face lit up.
" 'Ello Harry!" He grinned as Harry jumped up and down in excitement, "You wanna talk to your father I suppose?" Harry nodded very quickly. "Okay, gimme a second." And with that the man disappeared back into the room. Harry could hear some scuffling, some whispering, and then a woman with long blonde hair came to the door. She smiled, her eyes sparkling at Harry.
"He's ready." She said kindly, holding out a hand which Harry took. She walked him through the dining hall to the head of the table where the man from before now sat, except his eyes had changed from their warm chocolate brown to red, with slits for pupils like a snake.
He looked coldly down at Harry, before smiling warmly and picking him up, setting the small child on his lap.
"What have you got for me today?" He asked softly. Harry presented his drawing and the man took it in one of his hands, the other holding Harry close to his body.
"Well let's see, you've drawn yourself, nice likeness by the way," Harry beamed with pride at the praise, "You've also drawn Narcissa, Narcissa come look, he got you just right."
"Oh, he did!" The long haired woman cooed, ruffling Harry's hair, "Your son is quite the artist My Lord."
"That he is. Now, lets see, you've also drawn Barty, oh he'll be pleased with that." The man chuckled, "And the dark shape in the back is me I suppose?" Harry nodded. He knew what his father really looked like when he wasn't possessing people, but he decided to take artistic liberties when it came to him. The man smiled and hugged Harry.
"And I see Nagini is a house?"
"You said we're t'e house of snakes daddy!" Harry explained, "I on'y draw green snakes." He added and the man laughed and nodded.
"Very good son, very good. Oh, but what's that cradle doing in the corner of the house?"
"I see it everywhere, so I d'ew it." Harry shrugged. The man nodded slowly.
"I'm very proud of this picture Harry. Would you like Aunt Narcissa to help you pin it up?" Harry nodded very fast and the man let him down. Narcissa curtsied to the man before she walked Harry and his picture to his room. The moment they were gone, the man's face screwed up and he bent forward breathing very hard. His eyes flashed green and suddenelly there was a creature in the cradle nearby. The man's eyes were once again brown and he was panting very hard.
"I never get used to that." He croaked.
"Barty..." came a whispering from the cradle.
"Ah, sorry sir, I'll have Narcissa prepare the bottle."
"Barty... where is Nagini?"
"I suspect she's in the garden or somewhere near Harry's room."
"Call her..."
Barty blanched but walked to the door anyway. Positioning his toungue like his master had instructed him, he placed his wand against his throat to magnify the sound as he began to hiss, the sound echoing through the halls. He did it for a few minutes before stepping back and removing the wand.
"She should be along soon." He said, retreating into the room and reclining in a chair closer to the cradle.
And true to his word a long green snake slithered into the room and up the cradle legs to look down into it at her Master.
The thing in the cradle spoke to it, hissing his orders. Barty couldn't understand but he guessed they were talking about something because the snake began hissing back.
Eventually the snake nodded it's head and left, sliding out the room and up the stairs.
"You were right again, she was near Harry's room." The thing said.
Barty grinned and took a small bow, "Thank you sir."
"When Narcissa finishes with Harry I'd like you both to go home. Barty, talk to your father, try to glean any information you can from him."
"Yes sir." Barty said before bowing and exiting the room.
Awhile later, a servant entered Harry's room. He was a little stiff, and his eyes were red with slit pupils, but he walked into the room like he owned the place. Narcissa had left after making them both some dinner, Harry eating his like a good boy in the dining room. However he ate alone as usual as his father had other means of feeding himself.
The man walked up to Harry, who was coloring on his bed, and sat down on the bed.
Harry looked up, searching the eyes to see if it was his father. When he'd confirmed it was, Harry grinned and hugged the servant.
"Hi daddy." He said.
"Hello son." The servant smiled, ruffling Harry's hair, "What have you got there?" He took the paper Harry was currently scribbling on. It was a picture of Harry and Narcissa in Harry's room. Narcissa was holding a tray.
"I cou'dn't t'ink of anyt'ing so I d'ew dinner." Harry said simply, not all that impressed with his own drawing. His father smiled.
"Well it's still a nice picture. Good job. However," He laid Harry down, "It's time for bed. So go to sleep okay?" Harry nodded seriouisly before reaching down and pulling the covers over his shoulder.
"Good night Daddy." He said before his father kissed him on the forehead.
"Good night son."
The servant walked through the house to the study, where he sat down in a large office chair and sighed deeply, relaxing into the expensive leather.
"Nagini..." He hissed like a snake and he heard a faint reply from somewhere in the room.
"Nagini, what are you doing in here?" Voldemort decided to ask. The snake was silent for a moment before replying,
"The fire is warm and the house is cold, where else would I be?" Nagini snarled as Voldemort smiled, the snake hated being cold. She would even give up a snack of mouse or rat to go find the nearest heat source. On cold frosty mornings Voldemort often found her in one of the many hearths of the house, nearly in the fire lit before her she'd get so close.
"But what of your little boy? Wont he be lonely tonight?" Voldemort teased. Nagini had taken to Harry the moment he'd arrived. She often slept in his bed with him, letting him hold her in his sleep like one would a teddy bear or some other toy. She would even sometimes follow him around should she find nothing better to do that day.
"You want me out of here don't you?" The snake hissed, feigning insult, "Fine then, I'm gone. Have someone light a fire in his room so I'm not cold tonight."
"It will be done your highness." Voldemort chortled as he waved his hand to open the door for his pet, receiving an annoyed hiss as the snake slithered out.
Voldemort looked at himself in the large mirror to the side on his desk, inspecting the man's face he was currently borrowing. Aside from acting as a meat puppet when it suited the Dark Lord and providing a few errands into Little Hangleton that couldn't be done by ex-con Barty Crouch jr. or Narcissa Malfoy, since she was charged with watching over Harry. Otherwise he was locked away in the cellar in a small room, where the virtually brain-dead man would lay on the cot provided for him. Years abused by powerful wizards, and the mere existence of magic, was enough to drive any Muggle man crazy.
With a tired sigh, Voldemort reclined somehow further into the chair, thinking over today's meeting and his discussions with Barty. A few of his followers had been displeased with the recent lack of blood in their activities, Barty an admitted member of those who were no longer able to satisfy their bloodlust, and much of today's meeting had been wasted putting the unruly in their place. True, even he'd at first intended to destroy his enemies by blasting them out of the way, but that was until he'd been blasted back. His body had been destroyed, turned to a mottled, wrinkly, shrub of a human. He was forced to possess others just to reach the top of a counter or hold his son.
He smirked, his son. Harry was his son, that was nonnegotiable at this point.
He'd first taken the child last year as a form of revenge against Dumbeldore, and all his goody-two shoes followers. The loss of the 'Boy Who Lived' would be a crippling blow to the old man after five years of being celebrated. And it had worked! His spies told him that many had turned on Dumbeldore for letting the precious boy be snatched away from them. Everyone thought the boy to be dead. Harry Potter, destroyed at the hands of Lord Voldemort due to the great Albus Dumbledore's foolish miscalculations. It was Christmas come early for the dark wizard.
And the best part, the part Voldemort savored most, was that Harry was not dead. Just his. The boy's life had been spared due to Voldemort realizing that even the most carefully laid plans can decay. And that usually happens to the plans containing someone's life. Voldemort had realized that, as powerful as he was or was going to be, he was mortal. He could die very easily. Especially now, with as weak as he was. He needed to make sure that, should he be taken out of the picture, the picture would still survive.
An heir, he realized one night shortly before rescuing Harry from his previous lodgings, he needed an heir.
And so Harry had been brought to him. It was like killing two birds with one stone. Voldemort got an heir, and Dumbledore was dealt a crushing blow.
And overtime, Harry had become more than a tool in Voldemort's eyes. He'd become an actual son.
And, should his enemies realize his son's true identity, it would be all the more crippling. It would further illustrate the age old phrase, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Voldemort liked to imagine the look on the old nitwit Dumbledore's face should he learn the truth about Harry. It would probably be a mixture of sadness and anger. Or maybe disgust would slip in there as well. Perhaps pity would try to worm itself into his eyes as he would look upon Harry. The Harry Voldemort would picture, would be standing tall and triumphant over the old fool, perhaps, about to issue the killing blow and destroy Voldemort's enemy forever.
Or perhaps he'd be standing next to a restored Voldemort as he delivered the final blow. Marveling at his father's magnificence.
Either way, Voldemort couldn't wait for the day to finally come.
Okay, so I hope you guys liked it... I really want this story to do well because I really like this idea and I really wanna write it, but only if people wanna read it, because otherwise there's really no point in writing it.
Anyway, I decided Voldemort can possess people through a spell as he did somewhat posses Quirrell and we all remember how messed up that was... I just made mine a little more appealing I guess.