Chapter 1

End of One life Start of a New

Harry bit his lip, trying to ignore the pain in his hand. The blood dripped down his hand. The words, I must not tell lies, became more prominent by the second. Of course he had detention so much, the words were there almost constantly. But it didn't change how much he hated those words. He wasn't lying, but what did it matter? No one was going to believe him.

"Alright, that's enough for tonight." Umbridge chimed. "We will resume tomorrow. Another week should show you some respect."

Harry suddenly felt the urge to take the quill and drive it straight between her eyes. He blinked, where did that come from? Then he found himself wanting to laugh and he almost did.

Maybe they're right. Maybe I am going insane.

"I do hope you understand, Mr. Potter. Like I said, naughty children deserve to be punished. You deserve to be punished, don't you?" she wanted him to break. But after years of living with the Dursley's, being hit, beaten, starved, and…No! Don't think about it! … he did not break easily. The only time he could actually remember fully breaking…Stop! Harry tried to stop his thoughts from going down that path, but he was too late. Images played in his head.

"You're a little Freak! How dare you burn our food!" Vernon screamed, throwing Harry onto his bed. "Well, no meals for you for a week, now get outside and finish the garden work, I don't care that it's raining and dark out. Get to it Potter…Potter…Potter!"

Harry's head snapped up. "What?"

Umbridge was standing right in front of him. She was staring at him like she thought he was more insane than she originally thought. "I said, you may return to your dorm now."

"Oh," Harry breathed. He got to his feet and walked out the door without another word. He made his way down the stairs and out of the classroom. He just walked, but he couldn't focus on anything. His mind kept filling with those horrid images.

Large, meaty hands grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him in the cupboard, then shamming the door and locking it.

"Little brat! We've given you a roof over your head, a bed to sleep in, and food to eat from our own pockets and yet you can't do anything right. You're completely useless. Nothing but a freak! And if you ever insult your cousin again, you'll be sleeping in the attic!" the man hissed through the vent.

Tears ran down Harry's face.

"Oh, hello Harry."

Harry blinked as he regained his surroundings again. He found himself in front of a mirror in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Myrtle was floating behind him.

Had he walked here? He hadn't even noticed where he was going. But why here? He should have been going back to the Tower.

"H-Hey Myrtle." He replied, not turning around. It was then that he realized where he was standing. In front of the mirror that was the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Then he noticed that his hand was tracing the tiny snake carved onto the faucet.

He blinked.

What force had compelled him to come here? He was suppose to go back to the tower. But…he didn't want to. He'd had enough. This as far as he went.

Harry was tired.

Nothing was going right. The DA was dead, Dumbledore was on the run, and that bitch was in charge of Hogwarts now. And everyone still thought he was crazy for believing that Voldemort had returned. Why did he even bother trying? No matter what, everything went wrong. And to make it worse, his 'friends' had started avoiding him again. Like they blamed him for them getting in trouble. They were the ones who talked him into starting the DA, so technically it was their fault.

Stroking the snake, Harry gazed at his reflection.

Harry Potter.

The Boy-Who-Lived.

Gryffindor's Golden boy.

"No more…" he breathed.

Myrtle blinked, the cocked her head. "Pardon?"

"No more. NO MORE!" Harry screamed.

Wham!

Myrtle shrieked as his head collided with the mirror.

"I am DONE being their little savior, leader, whatever the hell it is they want me to be!"

Wham!

"Harry?" Myrtle's voice quivered.

"I'm not their Savior! I'm not their Golden Boy! I'm not even suppose to be in Gryffindor. I was suppose to be in Slytherin! The Sorting Hat wanted to put me there. Why did I argue? I don't belong in Gryffindor. I don't belong with those back-stabbing, glory seeking fuckers! I'm a Slytherin!" He was sobbing by this point. Tears running down his face.

WHAM! CRACK!

"Harry!" Myrtle screamed.

Harry froze. Sharp pain burst in his forehead.

Drip…drip…drip.

Something wet and warm dripped down his face. It wasn't tears. Raising his head Harry found the mirror had been cracked with a red stain in the center. Harry turned his attention to his reflection. His scar and forehead had been split open and his blood was running down his face.

"Harry?" Myrtle had moved back a bit.

Harry was silent for a few moments. "Myrtle," he finally whispered. "I need you to do something for me. Can you…leave for a while?"

Myrtle floated back and forth nervously. "I…I don't…"

"Please?" Harry begged. "And if anyone asks, I wasn't here, okay?"

Myrtle bit her lip but finally nodded, then floated through the wall.

Harry straightened up, then removed the hidden items in his robes. His wand, the map, the album that Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year, and his invisibly cloak. He would have to leave his broom. Then again Umbridge did take it and banned him for life. So it didn't really matter.

He removed his outer robes and sweater, dropping them to floor along with his Gryffindor tie. He placed his album and map in his pockets, his wand up his sleeve, and draped his cloak over his hurt hand. Then faced the sink.

"Open."

Slowly the chamber opened, the same way it had three years ago.

Harry gulped as he gazed down into the dark tunnel. He forced the memories of his second year back and jumped. Sliding down the tube, he braced himself, landing on his feet.

He looked up at the entrance. "Close." Slowly, it sealed tight.

Harry walked out of the bone pit and into the tunnel. To his shock, the rubble that had sealed the cave years ago had vanished. Along with the snakeskin. It was like someone wanted him to come down here.

Harry sighed then started walking. There was no turning back now. He was leaving Hogwarts, and never coming back.

Coming up to the second door, he hissed out the command. He watched as the snake slid around, opening the door. He climbed through and down the stairs then hissed at the door, making it close.

Once more he was in the Chamber of Secrets. But he was out of Hogwarts, now he had to find another way out of the chamber. How hard can that be?

"Quite hard actually. Although a Parseltongue can navigate it better."

The blood in Harry's veins ran cold. He knew that voice. Better than anyone else. His heart was beating loud enough that he could hear it in his ear. He slowly turned to meet the crimson eyes of Lord Voldemort. In a flash Harry drew his wand from his sleeve…

"Accio Potter's Wand."

…only to have it sip from his grip and fly into Voldemort's waiting hand.

The snake-like man just chuckled, then blinked. It took Harry five seconds to realize that he was staring at the blood running down his face.

Suddenly he felt a pressure in his mind, followed by the images of him banging his head against the mirror and screaming.

Harry panicked and tried to throw the Dark Lord from his mind. But it was useless. This was a hundred times stronger than what Snape had done to him. Luckily he felt the man withdraw from his mind.

"Well, I should thank you for making this easy for me." He stated, then whispered something that sounded like Latin. He came closer. Harry tried to back up, but it was like his feet were glued to the floor. He felt close to hyperventilation.

This was it.

The Dark Lord was finally going to kill him.

His life would end and there was nothing he could do to stop him. His body would never be found and left to rot in the chamber, unless Voldemort showed it off.

Voldemort was standing less than a foot from him. Harry waited for him to pull out his wand and say those two words that would end him.

The Dark Lord made no move for his wand, but reached up and pushed back his hair, placing a hand over his lightening scar. The strange pressure increased almost to the point of pain. Harry bit his lip as a strong stinging sensation shot through his scar. He closed his eyes.

Suddenly it felt like something solid was seeping from his scar. Then the pressure and the pain vanished.

"There. My soul is finally complete."

Harry opened his eyes only to be shocked speechless.

Tom Riddle stood before him. Well, an older looking Tom Riddle, like his mid-thirties. His hair had grown back, his nose had returned, his skin was ivory, the only thing that remained the same was the crimson eyes. The Dark Lord stepped a few steps back, gave a cunning smile, then snapped his fingers.

Harry found his feet were free again. Before he could even move though, Tom reached for his forehead again. This time he rubbed his fingers across both cuts.

"Heal. Clean."

Harry winced as he felt his skin stitch itself back together and the blood vanish from his face. But he just continued to stare at Tom. How had this happened? He wasn't going to kill him?

Voldemort, Tom, (he wasn't sure anymore) just smirked. "The answer is no, I'm not going to kill you. The motivation to do so turned out to be fake. And reasons to keep you alive grow stronger and stronger."

"What?" Harry was beyond confused.

"Oh, the old fool didn't tell you?" Tom didn't look the least bit shocked, about whatever he was talking about. "Typical."

"Didn't tell me what?"

"Why don't we go somewhere more comfortable? I swear on my magic I won't harm you." The Dark Lord offered.

"No. Tell me here. And how did you know I was down here?" Harry demanded.

"Oh Harry. As a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, I can tell exactly who is entering my chamber." Voldemort smirked. "Now this explanation will take a while so have a seat." He snapped his fingers.

Harry suddenly was forced to sit in a chair that materialized out of nowhere. Once more he realized he couldn't move. Voldemort sat gracefully in the chair that appeared behind him.

"Now, why don't we start with what I just extracted from your sweet forehead." Voldemort grinned, which widened as Harry glared. "In my youth I became obsessed with avoiding death. So I took steps to gain immortality. Though I later learned that the obsession was placed in me."

Harry blinked. He started to speak but Voldemort held up his hand. "Let me finish. I'll explain everything. Now I created a number of horcrux. When you commit a murder of an innocent, your soul can break temporarily. For some who are powerful enough, they can capture the fragments and place them in objects, so it can help you avoid death."

Harry stared. The Dark Lord split his soul?

"Recently I went through a moment of clarity, which let me realize the negative effects of slitting my soul. And then I began to realize that someone had been tampering with my mind. Upon further examination I found that someone had planted an obsession spell, obliviated me a number of times, and a Carpus Genisius. It's a spell that makes me want to achieve my goals so much I'd be willing to do anything. However it malfunctioned and made me want to even kill thousands to achieve my goals even though my goals have nothing to do with killing Muggleborns. And only someone who is of equal or almost equal power could have placed it upon me."

This makes no sense. Harry thought. Why would someone cast such a spell? It's dangerous. And Who? But Harry started to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. There was only one person he knew who was of almost equal strength to the Dark Lord.

"Dumbledore cast there on me."

Harry bit his lip to keep from screaming. Why? He asked in his mind, knowing Voldemort would hear.

"I found out his secret. He wasn't, isn't, the real Albus Dumbledore. His real name is Octavian Dumbledore, Albus' older brother."

"What?" Harry almost shouted. "N-No, his brother works at the Hoghead."

"Albus had two brothers. The real Albus Dumbledore was never a teacher here. He moved to Greenland and cutting all connections only returning to defeat Grindelwald. He never was one for fame. But his older brother Octavian was. He pretended to be Albus without either of his brothers knowing in order to get the fame.

I discovered this in my sixth year and wanted to expose him. When he threatened to expel me, I tried to catch him by using Icefyre the Basilisk. But I ended up petrifying and killing students. It was after that that Octavian realized what a threat I was, and cast the spells. But they didn't work the way he planned. I ended up setting up poor Hagrid for my faults and using Myrtle's death to create my first horcrux. It went down hill from there.

Anyway, once I realized what had happened I started removing the spells and collecting all the horcruxes I had made to fix my soul."

"But what does this have to do with me?" Harry asked.

"I'm getting there. Now I need to explain why I wanted to kill you in the first place. When you were born, one of my spies heard a prophecy. It said that you were destined to kill me. You or Mr. Longbottom. Right away I should have ignored it. But I was too insane. You see, Harry, a prophecy is never specific and is always complicated. This one was too simple. Between the two of you, I picked you to target because I thought you would be weaker. But I wanted to be dramatic with this. So I planned on using you to create another horcrux. I preformed the ritual and went to kill you.

Then the backfired.

My soul still split, but it needed a vessel. It went into you."

The blood within Harry turned cold again. A piece of the Dark Lord's soul had been inside him? That went beyond creepy. "Then the prophecy…"

"The thing was fake Harry. Dumbledore created it in hopes to lure me into a trap. It worked, and did for years, until you destroyed my diary."

Harry blinked. The diary that he had plunged the Basilisk fang into, destroying Tom in his second year. How had that helped?

"The diary was my horcrux. Most people believe that when you destroy a horcrux, it's just gone. However, it actually sends it back to the main piece, which gave me the clarity…"

"Wait." Harry cut in. "Are you telling me that my parents were killed, I spent my whole life with people who hated me, and almost died four times, was because a Dumbledore imposter wanted to keep his little secret?" Harry was trembling with rage and pain.

Voldemort's gaze softened to a sad look. Then he nodded.

It felt like his world had caved in. Everything had been a set up. What if his friends were a set up too? That made him want to be sick. Could everything be a lie? "But, why are you here now? You got your horcrux back." He managed.

Voldemort stood up, then pulled Harry to his feet the chairs disappearing, his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Because you deserve to know the truth. And I have an offer for you."

"An offer?" Harry asked.

"You see, I also realized that in all these years I never produced an heir. I don't want the Slytherin line to die with me, but I don't desire or have the time for marriage or an infant right at the moment. But I realized I already had part of one."

Harry just stared. He couldn't mean…

"My soul gave you most of my powers, like you would have if you were my flesh and blood. But not completely. However, if I were to use a blood adoption ritual, you could become mine completely." Voldemort smiled.

Harry stepped back. "You…want to make me your son?" he breathed. The man couldn't be serious. This man had killed his parents and almost killed him on several occasions.

"Yes. You're so much like me already. You are a parselmouth, and part of me wants to keep that ability in the Slytherin line. You also look slightly like me. And those emerald eyes are the exact color of the Slytherin house. You also posses the qualities of a true member of the Noble House of Slytherin. You're cunning, intelligent, sneaky, and as equally as powerful as me. You're also fiercely loyal to friends, though you are too quick to forgive. You would be the perfect heir of Slytherin."

Harry felt a blush creeping up onto his face. He had always been complimented about his courage and bravery and the things that were to be expected of a Gryffindor. He'd never be complimented on the qualities that most people told him were bad or Slytherin. But still…

"And just think of what I could offer you." Voldemort continued, starting to circle Harry slowly. "I could help you achieve your true potential, learning to behave and become a proper and great Slytherin Lord. You would have the best that life has to offer, a father to love and guide you, friends who like you for you and not because of your fame and glory, and a decent education."

"What's wrong with my education?" Harry hissed. Though considering his grades, maybe the man had a point.

"Hogwarts has been…lacking in proper curriculum these last few years, nowhere near preparing you for the hardships of the Wizarding world. Oh the things you would learn. Politics, advanced spells and potions, runes, blood magic, and the old ways. The ways that Octavian Dumbledore has tried to label as Dark Magic so that he can keep his control over us. You would learn the true difference between Light and Dark magic, that it has nothing to do with good or evil. I would show you the world. In time I think you will grow to love Slytherin Castle." Voldemort praised.

Harry turned his head to keep eye contact. "Slytherin Castle? Where's that?"

Voldemort tutted. "Sorry Harry. Unless you're my son, you won't be allowed to know that. Now, what do you say?"

Harry was silent. What was he suppose to say? Everything that Voldemort was offering was what he wanted. Family, to learn more, to be seen as who he was, it was so temping. But this was Lord Voldemort, would he really do this?

"Why should I trust you?"

"I've already given my word that I will never harm you. But you are correct, you have no reason to trust me. And in truth, I wouldn't blame you if you said no. And you have that option. You can say no. You could take the tunnel and it would lead you out of Hogwarts and be on your own or you could come with me and be my son. The choice is yours, and yours alone."

A choice.

That's all Harry ever wanted. Ever since he'd entered the Wizarding World, he'd been told who he was and what he would do. He never had a choice. He HAD to be the Boy-Who-Lived, he HAD to be on the quidditch team (granted he did love it), he was destined to be a hero. But no one ever asked him. He never wanted to be those things. No one had given him a choice.

Except Voldemort.

"Yes. I want to be your heir, your son."