Chapter One - Green Gloves

Yaxley's blood left a trail as he limped his way up the path. Thorns dug into his once regal robes, sometimes penetrating deeply enough to put a scratch on his dirt covered skin. But he was used to it. This was his seventh trek up the elm covered mountain in the past 20 hours, and at this point he was beyond all caring for superficial pain. He had no time to take in the wooded environment around him. Time was expensive and he had already spent all of his.

The babe in his arm cried incessantly, as it had ever since Yaxley had pried it out of the arms of its dead mother. He was not even sure what gender the child was. He paused, leaning against a small, knotted tree trunk as a thought came to him. Did it matter if the children were male or female? Since the main two people involved in the ritual were male, should the children be as well? He shook his head and kept walking. It did not matter. Need. Focus. He did not have the strength to find 3 or 4 more children to replace the random females. If this was going to happen, it had to happen now.

As Yaxley reached the top of the mountain, he took a moment to gaze upon his work. The most important work he had ever done. Floating fire lit the area, one fireball roaring above each cradle. Seven cradles, all arranged in a circle. The old spell books he had managed to find on the spell said only one child was needed but Yaxley had decided to emulate his Master. Seven was a magical number.

The night wind tossed about Yaxley's long blonde hair as he slowly made his way over to the one empty crib that was left. He placed the child in it. Yaxley allowed himself a moment of self congratulations. It had also been his idea to find seven children that had been born on the day that the Dark Lord had died for this spell, no this ritual. Anything that might help him get his Master back was worth the effort.

It had been three months since that fateful day. But he had not given up. Yaxley was nothing without the Dark Lord. For the first month he had moped around, avoiding Auror's, just trying to stay alive without a reason to justify the effort. He had fled to Africa, and found a way to live. Oddly enough, it ensured his death.

The beaten up wizard walked to the middle of the clearing, cribs arranged in a circle around a large black kettle set up over an unnatural green fire. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he heard the compact dirt give off a slight crunching sound under his feet. Everything seemed more… alive. The slight breeze that refreshed the scars on his weathered face. The pain, not physical but mental, from looking at the tattoo of the Dark Mark that he knew would never shine again. The senses were heightened with the good and the bad apparently. Balance. Is that what it always was like in the moments before you died?

The ritual Yaxley was about to perform he had found in an old African spell book in the middle of Kenya, of all places. It had taken a month to find it, another two weeks to translate it, and two weeks to set the ritual up. Zero time for him to decide it was worth it.

If he had translated correctly, this ritual would cause a tear in the universe, that would create an alternate universe. He could travel back in time in the alternate universe, based on need. On where he needed to go. To change things. And apparently this would help to change the current universe, based on the words in the forgotten spell book. 'As you change one, the other will surely follow.' But he would not have much time, it had also made that very clear.

Eleven inches. Troll hair. Quite bendy. His hand grasped his wand as his mind went back. He was not a man of reflection, but he could not help himself.

"Did you find that satisfying?"

Yaxley looked up in shock. He was unaware that anyone else was in the house. It was a muggle's residence, after all. A man stood before him, black cloak regally sitting about his shoulders. This man had… presence.

Yaxley quickly looked behind him at the decapitated bodies of the muggles he had just tortured, and at the teenager who was still breathing, if only just. Before he could turn back to the man who had appeared out of nowhere, he heard a curse uttered. The curse. "CRUCIO!" The beam hit the teenager, who throbbed around on the floor. One last attempt to stave off death. But it was useless. The spell killed him. Yaxley breathed in his demise. Even though he was not the one to administer it, he still drank in it's smell. Drool ran down the boy's mouth and onto the floor.

He turned back around to face the man. "Who are you?"

A smile that never touched the man's eyes was all Yaxley got in response.

That had been so long ago. The day he had met the Dark Lord. The best day of his life. Tears would have started in his eyes, but he was long past that. It was time to act. It was time to get the Dark Lord back.

Yaxley held his wand up, pointed it was the twinkling night sky. Yelled the words he had memorized. "BLOOD OF THE BABE, BE THE RIVER THAT TAKES ME BACK!" He twirled his wand in a circle above his head, and electrical sparks flew from it's tip. Each jolt connected with a child in the crib, killing them instantly, but not before taking seven drops of their blood each. All seven drops from each kid floated towards the cauldron, meeting and combining into a giant ball above the green fire. With no warning it dropped into the cauldron.

Yaxley took a deep breath. He had to get this right. Need. He had to focus his mind, to concentrate on where he needed to get to in time. Take me where I need to go to save the Dark Lord, he thought to himself. Take me where I need to go to save the Dark Lord.

He stretched out his body over the cauldron, green flames ignoring his robes. Wand still in his outstretched hand but now pointed at himself, he did it, keeping his focus on what he needed.

"BODY OF THE SERVANT, BE THE VESSEL THAT TRAVELS BACK!"

An orange light left his wand, and Yaxley's soul left his body, leaving this universe forever.

"Take me where I need to go to save the Dark Lord. Take me where I need to go to save the Dark Lord." Yaxley was whispering it now, eyes closed as he felt the environment shift around him. He was no longer laying across the cauldron; he was standing upright. No matter how clenched his eyes were they would not be able to keep out the various colors flashing around him. No matter how much he focused on what he needed, it would not be enough to keep the queasiness out of his stomach. Over and over again, a searing pain in his head. He fell to his knees. Was this what all the people he had murdered felt when they had died?

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Yaxley was frightened, afraid to open his eyes. But he knew he had very little time. The spell book had been very clear on that. He was an intruder in this alternate universe he had created, and the universe would seek to correct itself.

His darkened eyes opened. Need. Focus. Need. This had to have worked. A house was directly in front of him. The ritual had taken him here. This was where he needed to go to save the Dark Lord.

It seemed to be a normal house in a muggle village. Yaxley got up and walked to the front door. He felt… odd. Light. As if he was not there in every way. As if some of him was left behind. He knew his death was near. He knew he was incomplete. But for the first time in months, he was more alive then ever.

Yaxley was about to bust open the door when he noticed something near his feet. A boy, an infant. Blankets about him, letter in his hand, scar on his forehead. Yaxley breathed in deeply. This was Harry Potter!

Yaxley quickly pulled his wand out, and then stopped. He only had one shot at this. His need, his focus to save the Dark Lord had taken him to this moment. Not before the Dark Lord attacked the Potters so he could warn his Master. Here. It stood to reason that meant the Dark Lord needed Harry Potter. But something had to change.

There was no pain. There was just his legs giving out on him, as if they were no longer there. His time was running out. He grabbed the boy quickly and apparated.

In a flash he was in another place. This was not where he needed to be, damn it!

Again!

Again!

One final time, he moved. He was in the village. He did not have time to find who he wanted too, but this would have to do. It would work. He felt his unstable spirit in this alien universe start to leave him. This was not enough though! Yaxley took his wand and uttered some incantations at the boy as he placed him on another doorstep, this one far different from the one he had previously been on. The first one to make the child undetectable by magic. And others to ensure his path growing up was different. Course correction would be disastrous.

Eventually Yaxley collapsed on the ground, lying beside the Boy Who Lived, knowing he was about to become the Man Who Died. But that was alright. Because the Dark Lord would rise again because of him. Need. Focus. He was ali…

As Yaxley winked out of existence, the boy on the doorstep yawned, still wrapped in blankets but letter in his little hand long forgotten, lost in the wind. Unaware of his new path, of his old self in a far away place, but ready to face the challenges in this new world. Whatever they may be.

A/N - First time fan fiction author. This was really a short prologue before the story begins with Chapter Two. Please review! They are what I bet will keep me writing! Thank you!