A/N: I have this problem. I can't get this story out of my mind. And it's interfering with my other fic, Six Years Later that I'm currently writing. So I figured that if I put something in here, it might leave me alone long enough to at least finish the next chapter in my other fic and then I could maybe focus on this fic for awhile with a clear conscience.

So, about this fic. This is AU. Definitely AU. There will be many little things that won't sound right, because I have changed them a little or lot. So if things don't add up it's because of that.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. I'm merely playing around a little bit. And I will say this only once and it will cover the whole fic.

I hope you'll like it!

Prologue

"There was a boy...
A very strange enchanted boy.
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea,
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he.

And then one day,
One magic day he passed my way.
And while we spoke of many things,
Fools and kings,
This he said to me,
'The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return.'"

- Nature Boy by Eden Ahbez

xXx

18.12.1986

"Is the freak asleep yet?" Vernon grunted while driving along the highway in a cold and beautiful winter weather. It had snowed first time in the winter a week ago, just in time for a white Christmas.

Petunia turned and looked at the backseat, where their lovely son and the unnatural freak child of her sister's were seated. Both were sleeping peacefully, Dudley snoring in his sleep every now and then.

"Yes dear, I believe he is", Petunia answered and to make sure, reached and pinched the boy's leg. The freak stayed asleep, which he was supposed to do. The sleeping pills they had mixed in the boy's necessary breakfast had done their job. Vernon grunted and Petunia turned back to sit comfortably in the front seat. They started to look around as they drove at the sides of the road.

They drove few more miles before Vernon nodded to the right side of the road.

"How's that?"

Petunia looked where her husband had nodded and as the car slowed down saw a shrub, thick even without leaves and a large rock next to it.

"I think it looks perfect, Vernon. Why don't we take a better look?" she suggested.

Vernon nodded and pulled over. They got up from the car and Vernon waded to the shrub and the rock and inspected them while Petunia stood beside the road. Finally Vernon straightened and walked back to the car. There he opened the other door on the backseat and took the freak out. He carried him to the shrub and rock and crammed him into the space between the shrub and the rock. Then he piled some snow so that one could not see the boy from the road. He returned to his wife trying to cover his tracks the best he could and they clanked one more time to make sure you couldn't see the freak.

Then they nodded, stepped back in the car and drove away sure that by the time anyone would find the freak, it would be too late.

The little boy in the snow stayed asleep, not noticing the cold seeping into his body.

xXx

Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, was strolling quietly through the snowy world. Of course, as the Lord of the Dark he did not stroll in public, he was alone only two magical animals, dogs known as hellhounds, as his company. Other times he would have taken Nagini with him, the snake was excellent partner to have a discussion with, but as it were snakes didn't do well in the cold and he was forced to bear with the dogs. Although, he had to admit, they were magnificent creatures. They were big, around the size of a small horse and their fur was black as coal. Their teeth were sharp and red as blood and their eyes glowed at the same color.

So it was quite clear to assume that he was perfectly safe, he had informed his loyal subjects firmly, because truly, who would dare to attack the Lord Voldemort, who was the most powerful wizard in Europe, if not in the world (unless you count the bloody fool Dumbledore), and who had two hellhounds as his companions on the grounds of his current estate.

The reason he was alone on the grounds was thinking. He had done that a lot in the past four months since he had finally healed completely from that disaster with the Potters. He still didn't know for sure what the hell had happened, but he knew he was lucky to be alive now. Anything worse and he could have lost his entire body. Fortunately he had sensed that something had gone wrong and managed to almost escape from the explosion that had followed his Killing Curse. His body had suffered enormous damage, but he had still had it. His most loyal followers had taken him away before the aurors had showed up and following the instructions he had given them, reconstructed his body. It had taken nearly four years and – he had to admit – the result was very good. The reconstruction had returned his body to its original form, save for the eyes. To the dashingly handsome dark haired man. He wasn't particularly vain, but he had to admit that he liked this body and not to mention that he was able to sneak around the Wizarding World without anyone realizing who was walking amongst them, once he had disguised his eyes of course.

But what he had been thinking the past months was the… accident he supposed one could call it. It most definitely wasn't a defeat even though everyone in the Wizarding World seemed to think so. He wondered what had gone wrong. Had he been too hasty? Possibly, though he hadn't thought that at time. He had thought only that he wasn't going to allow a mere child get in his way. And apparently that had been his mistake, he had been too…proud, he reluctantly admitted. He had been too sure of himself, even though he had seen many times what happened to those who were. Grindelwald was an excellent example. Of course the events year before the 'accident' also had their part in his too Gryffindor-like behavior. And most of all, he had not been sane.

He walked on top of a hill and stopped there to survey the view before him. A road used mostly by Muggles cut through the wild. It was right outside the wards surrounding his estate. He needed to change tactics, do things differently this time. The old tricks wouldn't work, although he wouldn't disregard everything. But this time they needed to be more careful, more subtle and more patient before giving the final blow, which would be of course taking over the Ministry and make some much needed changes. He smirked, he was going to enjoy that when the time would come.

And he needed to take the 'Boy-Who-Lived' into account, he rolled his eyes at the ridiculous name. Who knew what the old coot would manage to plant into the child's head while no doubt training him to be the hero of the Wizarding World. Really, that was not a thing for a child to be at such a young age and sure as hell not because some old idiot made him think so.

Suddenly he froze and stared at the rode unbelievingly. He was sensing a painfully familiar magical signature. The hellhounds had also smelled something. And it was coming from the road. He couldn't understand this, why on earth would the child – no matter which one – be here?

He started to approach the road slowly, tracking the signature. The hounds were already scurrying towards the road noses on the ground. As he passed the tiny birch forest and stood looking around, he frowned. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. But he dogs could smell something. They were circling around a shrub and a rock waiting orders from their master.

He advanced the shrub slowly and circled around it. At first, he still didn't see anything odd, but when he looked closer, his eyes widened slightly. There was a child between the shrub and the rock, partly covered with the snow. He blinked.

Definitely not what he had expected.

Reaching past the branches, he grabbed the boy from his shoulders and lifted him up to a sort of sitting position so that he could see the child's face. The child's head lolled from side to side and frowning Tom put him against the rock and lifted his head.

Yes, his senses were right. This was the other Potter boy – he had the scar – though he couldn't for the life of him understand why was he here and not with his parents and his brother. He knew from what his followers, Lucius and Severus especially, had told him and from reading the old papers that Dumbledore (he was sure it was the old coot) had proclaimed that the elder Potter boy – what was his name again? Jonathan? – had defeated him when in truth, and he was quite sure of it, if it hadn't been the work of the older one of the two boys alone. Nothing had been mentioned about the younger brother – Harry, if he remembered correctly – other than that the brothers had gotten identical scars from the event, the older brother's scar being in a different spot. But otherwise, nothing was mentioned about the younger brother again, he had assumed that he lived with his family somewhere.

Tom's eyes narrowed as he watched the child with calculating look in his eyes and thought about the situation. What should he do with the child?

Something was niggling in the back of his mind as if he needed to remember something important. He frowned, annoyed at himself. Recovering from the reconstruction meant that his memory had been difficult in the past few months. It was only now that his mind as well was starting to be its previous self. It was something Severus had told him not too long ago about the Potters and Dumbledore. Something he had acquired while Tom had been down. The man was a brilliant spy, he couldn't ask for better. The spy had been a double-crosser for a long time before finally deciding to stick with him. It was one of his most precious memories when the unfazed Potions Master had found out that he had known all along.

But what was it that the man had told him? Something about… a prophecy? Yes, that was it. Severus had come to him two months after he had been healed telling him that while he had been down, Severus had managed to acquire the whole prophecy. The blasted thing that had gotten him into this mess.

He raked his brains trying to remember how it went. Ah, yes.

"Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…," he whispered the beginning and continued. "…the one and one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, power drawn from a bond of blood… - he was unsure what blood bond the prophecy meant, most likely the boys being twins - …one who will stand in the path of the Dark and one who shall stand on the path of the Light… and the Dark Lord will mark them as his equals and they shall have powers the Dark Lord knows not… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"

'One who will stand in the path of the Dark and one who shall stand in the path of the Light', he thought slowly. 'Interesting.' When he had first heard the incomplete prophecy, it had been just a couple of lines and Severus had missed the beginning of the second line, the one and one…, which now that he thought about it later obviously meant the two boys and not just the other one as he had presumed previously.

The child was very strong magically, they both were. Otherwise there wouldn't have been that kind of damage when the Killing Curse failed. Tom tilted his head as he watched the child, perhaps…it could be a great asset to their side, if the child were to grow into their beliefs.

Contrary to the public opinion, his 'cause' was not all about blood purity and killing Muggles and Muggle-lovers. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that they needed new blood every now and then to keep their magical heritance healthy and strong. Without it, the result would be disturbingly similar to those families who married too many of their cousins over and over again, he had seen some of those families. His own biological family had been like that, so he should know. They would suffer craziness and illnesses and eventually they would be extinct.

No, it was not about that. It was about keeping their world secret. There were too many Muggles who knew of their world, because the children were allowed to stay in the Muggle World and when they finally entered into their world, they were entirely ignorant of the ways and customs of the wizarding world. If their world would be revealed to the Muggles, they would be blown from the face of the earth faster than you could say 'Oh hell'.

The other things he longed to correct included the education of their children (it was bloody shoddy these days), the Ministry's international politics (the relations were poorer than his and Dumbledores), the auror department (they were really pretty incompetent) and to change some views about the Dark Arts and treatment of other creatures. The blood purity and Muggle-hating was merely the other side's propaganda.

Tom gathered the child carefully in his arms, noticing suddenly how blue the boy was. He needed to get him inside and quickly. While he was still alive. He turned and apparated closer to his castle. There he headed towards the doors the hellhounds running around him.

He grinned slightly evilly. Oh, yes. He was going to raise the child himself. And if he proved to be fit, he would maybe make him his heir. That would give the old coot a heart failure when he'd eventually find it out.

A/N: Reviews are nice! *wink, wink*