Disclaimer: You know the drill, Harry Potter isn't mine. (This is for the sole amusement of my inner fangirl.)

This idea had been playing around in my head for a while.

For those of you who had read 'The King, their Lord' and liked it, I would like to apologise for getting distracted and writing this instead

Second warning(for those who disregarded the first warning and clicked into this story anyway): Contains slash Voldemort/Tom/Harry

Prologue

The cobblestone path rose and fell with the land, the ground uneven beneath her feet, but she had to carry on. The darkness of the night swallowed her vision, but for the sake of her unborn child she had to reach her destination.

A unseen figure cloaked in black watched her while she held her protruding stomach as she stumbled towards the nearby orphanage, he followed her with disinterest. Like every other mortal, she clasps at the fringes of life, how utterly droll. The only reason he came personally was because he had felt a soft thrumming of magic from her dying body. He'd been tempted to simply send the shadows to collect her soul upon her death, her magic had after all been the most pathetic thing he'd ever felt, and he'd been around for a very long time. However his curiosity won out in the end and it wasn't like he'd anything else to do, so he'd gone to watch her die.

He sneered at her form as she made her way to the orphanage door, she's even more pathetic than all the rest of these mortal flesh bags. He could usually tolerate and sometimes even favour the mortals imbued with magic, their souls after all did always connect with him better and they were far more interesting than the magic-less ones that lumbered about. Though there were quite a few exceptions, the ones that started wars or the few who managed to actually succeed in taking over a country, they never fail to amuse him when he presents himself at their death. They always argue and yell about their perfection, grandness and immortality, the last one never failed to amuse him. Though back to the point, he always did like the magic users but this one made him recoil in disgust he felt tempted to simply cut her from life now and just leave. Reaching out with his hand, he was about to do just that when he felt it. Not many things could describe the feeling that swept through him at that moment, it seeped into his very core.

Magic.

It was this alone that stopped his hand from removing her from this world. It drew him closer and he felt it swirling within her stomach, the unborn child, he hadn't had much care for it before but he could feel it now, the thrum of new life. He followed it into the building and watched as the Matron and the nursemaids gather around the pathetic human. He stood unseen in a corner, watching them in their attempt at keeping her alive.

She had reached the orphanage in time and had just entered labour, however with the poor equipment they had and her weak state they didn't think the child would make it. That annoyed him, this human is even more pathetic than he had last thought, the only thing keeping the child alive currently is it's own magic. He waved his hand, and sifted through the life threads of the unborn child, strengthening and holding them up. When the baby breathed it first breath the gathered humans claimed it a miracle.

The mother looked upon her son with a loving smile. When the gathered few asked her what the child's name will be, the mother gave them the name she had thought about for weeks. Her last sight was of her son looking at her with a solemn look, as if he knew this would be the last he saw of her.

Flicking a wrist, he casually sent her soul to the great beyond, and turned to look at the baby boy. Stepping forward to stand beside the child, he felt greatly shocked when the baby's eyes locked onto his. Though child like in appearance he is still Death and had been around for millennia, but never had he gazed at eyes like these.

Mirth entered the green eyes of Death.

The future beheld a new path, one the future dark lord will pave, a name that will change history. With a wave Death changed and created a new destiny, and with it a name of greatness arose.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

I am Lord Voldemort.

Short but the chapters should be longer. This won't be updated in a while though I just had to get it out there and out of my head.