So this is another of those 'Voldemort raises Harry' concepts, crossed with 'Harry has a twin who is the Boy-Who-Lived' concept. I wanted to do my own, put my own spin on it. There's going to be similarities between this fic and other fics with the same themes (well, that's unavoidable) but I am going to make it original (or try to, at any rate).

I need to credit some authors who inspired me more than most, though, so if you haven't yet, check out 'A Shattered Prophecy' by Project Dark Overlord, 'The Darkness Within' by Kurinoone (especially the rewrite version) and the Sacrifices Arc, which starts with 'Saving Connor', by Lightning On The Wave. Hats off to them, they are awesome fanfiction authors. If you haven't read their work yet, I suggest you do, it's extraordinary.

Disclaimer: I'll only say this once - I am a deprived school-aged teenager, therefore I don't own Harry Potter. Anything recognisable belongs to JKR. I do, however, own my OCs (e.g. Ashton). This story bears resemblance to other stories on this site. I won't say it's purely coincidental but I am trying to make this different.

I've made Harry, Ron, Draco, and everyone else four years older in this AU, because it suits my purposes better. Just a heads-up. It doesn't change the plot much; everything else is still on the same timeframe.

So without further ado, here it is:

A Stolen Childhood

Prologue

Lily Potter wished it could always be this way. She, James, and the other Marauders - Sirius, Remus, and Peter - sitting and laughing in the sitting room, twins Harry and Ashton asleep upstairs. The flickering fire warming the whole house. The illusion that they were safe.

They were not, she knew that, but it was a nice illusion. Outside the limits of the Fidelius Charm, the war raged, but Dumbledore had insisted they went into hiding. When she'd heard the prophecy, she couldn't exactly object. Her children had to be safe from Voldemort. They were only five years old, for crying out loud! She wouldn't let a prophecy ruin their lives.

What she didn't know was just how far from safe they were. Across the room from her, the small, weedy man nicknamed Wormtail rubbed his hands together anxiously. They were already slick with sweat, but his nerves were getting the better of him. Calm down, he told himself. You'll be fine. They don't know anything about what you're about to do.

He knew the others were ignorant of his loyalties, but he couldn't convince himself he would be fine. He went over the plan, repeatedly, again and again, in his head. It would work. It was foolproof. Wasn't it? Wasn't it?

The clock struck eleven, and the others, too busy laughing at a joke Sirius had made, failed to notice. But Peter did. It was happening now. So soon? he thought in despair, but the prepared excuse was already on his lips. He had practiced this for weeks. Everything had to be done just right.

"James, would you mind showing me the bathroom?" he asked. He managed to keep the quaver out of his voice, though it rose unusually high on the last syllable.

James looked up in surprise, but grinned good-naturedly. "Sure. Though I'd think you'd know where it was by now, Wormtail! You come around often enough!"

Wormtail went red, but sighed in relief and pushed his hair back from his perspiring forehead. It had worked. Nothing was going wrong. James led him out into the foyer, and Wormtail shut the door behind him. Now.

"Petrificus Totalus," he whispered. The spell hit James in the back and he fell, rigid as a board, arms straight at his sides; but Wormtail caught him and laid him on the ground. A loud noise right now, such as the sound of James Potter crashing to the floor, would completely ruin his plans. He shuddered to think how displeased his Lord would be if things went wrong.

He crept out the front door and hurried past the limits of the Fidelius Charm. There were two cloaked figures standing outside, not seeing it, but knowing it was there. One of them was tapping their foot impatiently, and Wormtail winced. He was on time, he knew. He must be. The Potter's clock wasn't fast

"Wormtail," said the tapper, a female. "You took your time."

"It's eleven," he whispered. "My Lord - here is the house -" he whispered the location to the other figure.

It was as if the house sprang to life. It was suddenly, obviously visible - how had they not seen it before? - and through the window, they could see the fire glowing.

"My Lord, James Potter is dealt with," said Wormtail. "The twins are asleep upstairs."

"The others?" said the figure who had not yet spoken. His voice was high, and cold, and beneath his cloak, ruby eyes glittered impatiently.

"In there," said Wormtail, waving his hand towards the window. "Three of them."

"One each," purred the woman. "I want the pleasure of killing my dear cousin."

"Stunning," corrected Wormtail. He flinched at the scathing look the woman gave him.

"I know that. It was a slip of the tongue."

"Come," said the Dark Lord, for it was him who Wormtail was so afraid of. "Let us deal with this matter."

Wormtail bowed his head, and the trio walked briskly up to the front door. An ornate knocker adorned it. "Shall we knock?" asked the woman mockingly. "To give them a chance?" She raised her hand.

"Now is not the time to play with your food, Bellatrix," said the Dark Lord, and Bellatrix flinched, stung by the rebuke, and swiftly dropped her hand back to her side. Of course, he was right. And had she been anyone else, she would have been scared he might kill her, but she wasn't just any Death Eater. She was a member of the Inner Circle, perhaps the most trusted f them all. One of the two Death Eaters to know about the plan, though others would be told eventually. But for this phase...

The other who was involved was the petrified man called Wormtail who slowly opened the door, afraid it would creak. Bellatrix sniffed. The only reason he was here was because he was one of their only double agents, and the other one hated the Potters. The Potters would not trust him. And their trust was an essential part of the plan. It was not possible for it to succeed without it, or they would have switched secret keepers long ago.

The trio paused in the foyer, eyes raking the unconscious body of James Potter. He was lying on his back where Wormtail had left him, a horrified expression on his face. An expression that showed Wormtail his friend knew, now, of the depth of his betrayal. His heart twisted, but he did nothing.

With a look of disdain, Voldemort stepped over it, and opened the door to the sitting room. Shock instantly showed across the faces of the three people in there, then fear at seeing Voldemort, betrayal at seeing Wormtail, anxiety at what had befallen James, before they finally recovered enough to draw their wands - but all too late. Three cries of "Stupefy" and Lily, Remus, and Sirius were as unconscious as James was.

"Pleasant dreams," said Bellatrix, smirking. "You'll wake up to a nightmare."

Then they turned, and ascended the stairs to where the Potter children lay asleep. Oblivious to the horror that was about to befall them. But not for much longer.

It was time to put this plan into action. It was the only way to strike at the heart of the feeble (yet annoyingly resilient) group of people who opposed Voldemort. He smirked. It would take time, yes, ten years to be precise, but it would be worth it. Ten years of believing they were safe, that they had been saved by a child, by Ashton Potter. And then...

Then, thought Voldemort, the Wizarding World was as good as his.

So that was just a little prelude. The first chapter will be up soon and it's quite a bit longer. It'll tell you what happened (or what people think happened) that night.

-Jaffaninja-