Rotten
Summary: James' body was never found in the ashes of the Potter's home. Harry never thought he could become anymore devastated than after he saw Cedric die. Voldemort reins. 4th year.
Chapter 1:
"You need a new name… a code, to address you by." A cool voice hissed out. I looked up and saw the man, or what was left of him, that I was suppose to dedicate my life to. His face was sunken and pale, and his skin was shriveled like an apple that had been left out for too long. This man was Voldemort. I was on my knee, the hard pavement scratching my skin. I darted my head back down to his feet, attempting to look submissive. Another hiss came from his mouth.
"Your name… it shall be Atlas."
Like the muggle directory? Atlas is so… bland, and odd at the same time. I didn't dare voice my opinion though.
"My revival is only days away. Do NOT fail me." And then he fell into a coughing fit. The snake must have talked more than his frail little throat could handle. He waved his hand toward the door, dismissing me. I knew he didn't want to show this vulnerability. Intimidation was what, and still, keeps me here; he didn't want to loose his advantage. I pulled myself up and started to open the giant wooden doors that lead to the dark lords throne room.
A quiet whisper. I can barely hear it. "Meet me in Pettigrew's chamber later James, or rather, Atlas." And then the hacking commenced.
-POV SWITCH-
James didn't intend for it to turn out this way.
He didn't.
He had a plan.
It just toppled over into a mass of catastrophic doom.
The night that Voldemort broke into the Potter household 13 years ago was a horrific and significant day for James. It was his breaking point. Now when he closes his eyes, he can't help but imagine his dead wife, and wonder if it was all worth it.
When Voldemort ripped through the wards that Albus Dumbledore put up, James was the first to approach the man. He courageously darted headfirst into a battle between good and evil.
He lost…
But he was given an option.
"Join me, and you will be spared. You will be under my protection with only one price… loyalty."
And having a dark lord pointing his wand at your neck telling you to join him is one of the most pressuring, yet convincing situations.
The deal was accepted.
Not 5 minutes later his house was on fire, his wife was dead, and his new master had disappeared. So James fled to the deepest parts of London, hidden in cloaks and notice-me-not charms.