"Speaking"
Written Word
Foreign Language
~Parceltongue~
Prologue
Voldemort looked around. The lifeless body of the worst thorn in his side was pushed mercilessly into a corner of the living room. It had been too easy, James Potter was a conflicted mess after his wife had been killed by Muggles in a botched mugging.
He walked up the stairs, seeking his prophesied equal, his soon to be heir.
He found him forgotten in his crib silent, yet unafraid. The boy turned around, and green met red. The child reached out for him, longing to be held. Voldemort's cruel, thin lips curled into a cold smile.
The boy stumbled into Voldemort's open arms. He didn't make a single sound. He just held on tight onto the man's robe, not willing to let go, because he felt safe with this man.
Voldemort looked at the child in his arms. Beautiful he was; strong and powerful. He would raise this child to be his own. Lucius was already preparing the adoption ritual back at Slytherin Castle. He would become the most powerful and dark child there was. He had powers that only Voldemort knew what to do with.
Voldemort could feel the dark magic that flowed off this boy. He had to start training him right away; had to teach him the ways of life, discipline and control over one's body.
Voldemort activated the portkey that brought the polyjuiced bodies of two Muggles to him. The first body was an exact replica of him, and the second of Harry.
"Damon Cadmus Teneroe, that will be your name."
The child looked into his eyes and smiled.