Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and her legion of money sucking associates. Kidding, just kidding.

Warning: Will be slash…Draco/Harry variety. There! I made it specific! Don't say I didn't warn you…

*No action in the first chapter, just laying down the grounds. Sorry!

Please read anyways…?

Ding-dong, the Dark Lord's dead. Not Quite.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, a magical baby was born. He had black hair the color of midnight, emerald green eyes that shone like the finest stones, and skin as fair as the fresh snowfall. All across the land, people celebrated, for he was to be the new Prince of the Gryffindor kingdom.

But disaster was to strike. Before the dusk had settled in, the kingdom was under attack. The noble townspeople formed a siege to protect the royal family, but the Slytherin Dark Lord proved to be too powerful for mere pheasants.

By nightfall, the castle was a collage of blood and bones, bodies from both sides leading a bloody trail to the entrance of the royal bedchambers.

Inside, the atmosphere was saturated with tense anticipation and fear. King James worried silently about the fate of his people. As a compassionate ruler, he regret not fighting alongside them, but trusted his advisor's words of seeking cover.

Huddled close to him was the beautiful Queen Lilian, her silent tears seeping into the fineries of the elegant bedchamber. Clutched in Lilian's arms was a beautiful baby, enclosed in the finest silk bundle possible, the joy and pride of the entire kingdom.

The baby was staring at his parents with a look of utmost fascination. His large emerald eyes were encased by a thick fringe of dark eyelashes, and the expression on his face was breathtaking in its innocence. He seemed to have understood the situation, nonetheless, for he didn't make a single sound. Not a whimper, not a cry, the young prince seemed frozen with those unblinking emerald eyes.

"You know, Lily, we haven't yet named this beautiful baby," tenderly contemplated King James, interrupting the tense silence.

"Hush, James, we shall have plenty of time when this is all over." Queen Lilian dismissed his notion with an imperious wave, despite her white countenance and shaky posture.

"But…Lil…what if?" Hesitantly, King James suggested the possibility of death, at which Queen Lilian visibly blanched. She was now as white as death, and as the panic whirled around her heart, her mind worked furiously to come up with a suitable name.

"What about…Harold? It rings of true power, and is derived from words of courage on the battlefield." Queen Lily was the first one with a suggestion, and the name seemed to magically hover in the air as King James voiced his approval.

"Yes, a great idea indeed, courage will be needed in our dark times of war with the Slytherin enemy, Lord Voldemort." With these words, the air simmered and a golden glow seemed to radiate from the child.

Prince Harold blinked, and with a look of adorable confusion, he opened his mouth and tentative mouthed his first words – "Har…Hawold."

As the king and queen delighted in this astonishing accomplishment, the doors to the bedchamber were flung open with a bang. A shockingly familiar voice was urging on the enemy, the voice of one Peter Pettigrew, a trusted servant of the royal family.

"My Lord, they're in here!" A malicious cackle punctuated that statement, and the room was suddenly filled with a sinister chill.

King James was the first one on his feet, one arm hovering protectively in front of his wife and son, the other steadily holding on to his wand: "Lord Voldemort. We meet again."

"Yesss…Potter. This time, you will die. As will your beautiful queen and preciouss sson. No one…No one refuses the power of I, the most powerful Dark Lord in wizarding history," sinisterly hissed the Slytherin, his blood red eyes flashing dangerously in the direction of Queen Lily and Prince Harry.

Deciding this was as well as any time to strike, King James threw his most powerful curse at the Dark Lord. Voldemort waved his wand almost lazily, and drawled out "Avada Kadevra." Amidst shrieks of denial from the Queen and cries from the young Prince, King James had fallen in a flash of green light.

Queen Lilian felt close to crumbling herself, but held strong for the pride of the royal family. She settled Prince Harold carefully on the bed, and stepped forth with an offer. "Strike me down if you'd like, but do not harm Harold. He is but a bebe, and will not cause you any harm."

Voldemort cackled once again, and whispered with a menacing grin: "Oh my beautiful Lilian…but it iss the principle of the whole matter. He iss a Gryffindor, so he musst die. And so musst you, my little pretty."

With a hissing whisper this time, Queen Lilian followed the footprints of her husband to eternity in a blaze of bright green light.

With a malicious grin, Voldemort turned to the precious bundle containing what little remains of the Gyffindor dynasty. He sneered in satisfaction upon seeing Prince Harold's terror stricken expression, and proceeded to terminate his young existence with the same spell that had struck his parents.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Lord Voldemort could sense something very wrong. The spell lacked a connotation of power, in contrast to previous assassinations, and the air around the young prince crackled with an undefined energy.

The green light sped rapidly through the air, but was countered with a golden shield upon reaching the young Prince. As Harold looked around at the spectacular display of illumination, he smiled. The flash of death was sent careening backwards toward its creator. The spell had rebounded.

With an anguished shriek, Lord Voldemort was potent no more. A one-day-old infant had reduced the most powerful Dark Lord of all ages into a spirited rubble at the foot of his bed.

Comments, suggestions, questions? Please…?

Promise there will be an appearance of the Draco kind in the next chapter!