Abraxas held the bundle in his arms abit tighter as "The Dark Lord" examined it further. The usually happy ice-blue eyes of his seven month old son were currently srunched together in annoyance, or fear. He did not know which. The baby's pink lips were set in a grim line and his face was calm, like soft,smooth stone. His little hands had formed fists and Abraxes prayed silently that the babe did not try to strike the powerful, remorseless man studying him.

Slowly, the boy's eyes opened and the small mouth formed its self into an O. And still the child was silent. Abraxas watched in horror as the tiny hand reached for the probing fingers of one of the world's darkest and most powerful wizards. And giggling as only babies can do, the little boy wrapped his fingers around one long pale appendage, and beamed.

Abraxas was frozen between fearing for his son's life, and his own. Voldemort placed one hand delicately upon that babe's skull, and russled the little blonde bits of hair. "Intelligent little one you've got Abraxas. He shall make a fine follower." the dark lord said with a grin. "Thank you My Lord." Abraxas said automaticaly, wondering for all the world what he had just gotten his son into.