Disclaimer - Harry potter in no way belongs to me, i'm just messing around with the characters for a little while :)
Warnings - coarse language, kink reference and most likely future slash.
The night was dark and cold, the streets empty and houses silent. A lone figure in a dark blue cloak picked his way down the pavement, lip curling in distaste at the small ellipse shaped pieces of gum trampled into the dirty pavement.
Really, must muggles contaminate everything they touch?
Scowling, he reached a small cottage at the end of the road. His lips twisted into a smirk as he took in the thatched roof and Tudor-style design. A grey stone path paved the way to the front door; it was lined with rose bushes and orange tulips. There was even a little pond with a cluster of water lilies floating lazily on the top.
How… quaint.
He strode up the path, stopping just short of the front door. He peered through the stained glass just below the knocker, his eyes scanning the distorted form of the hallway in front.
Nothing.
He pulled out his wand, admiring the polished wood.
Thirteen inches.Matched by none in power. Except, for one.The child of the prophecy.
His burgundy eyes hardened with resolve, before the pointed his wand at the door. He slid the wand into the lock and twisted it in one smooth motion. The catch clicked open. He slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. Once in the hall, he swiftly scanned his surroundings, before raising his wand above his head, and tapping himself. Tendrils of Invisibility trickled over him, wrapping around his face, shoulders, torso, his legs until even his feet were no longer visible.
He scanned the room once more before swiftly casting a detection charm. A few seconds later he could hear heartbeats. He was unable to detect the number, but they were coming from up the stairs. He grinned, showing off a set of pearly white teeth, before slowly walking up the stairs. He couldn't apparate, if the wards detected him now, the potters would discover him. Not as if he couldn't take them down, but it would be so much easier if he could go undetected until the last minute. He followed the steady pulses along the landing, stopping before a wooden door, painted a bright yellow. He grimaced at the gaudiness of it.
So… Gryffindor.
Casting an anti-substance charm he walked straight through the door, entering a small nursery. Inside it was painted ruby red, while the furniture was a creamy ivory colour. There was a rocking chair by the window, and a small wooden chest of drawers.
There.
In the corner, a woman was kneeling next to a crib, a man standing behind her, touching her shoulder. He recognized the infamous potter hair of the male, unruly and jet-black. He presumed the woman was lily potter, the woman Severus Snape had begged him to spare. In contrast to her husband, her hair was smooth and tamed, falling down her back in a sheet of shining flame red locks. He sneered. He would adhere to the mans wishes, although he didn't really give a shit if the woman died, the consequences of losing Severus' loyalty could be detrimental to his cause.
If I lost a potions master as Prominent as Snape to Dumbledore…
He shuddered at the thought. It couldn't happen. He wouldn't allow it to happen. One of his lesser death eaters could kill her on the battlefield at a later date. He would spare the man as well; it would just make it all the sweeter when the two had to live knowing that their little baby had died, because of their incompetence. He smirked.
How I love being evil.
However that did not mean he couldn't… permanently damage the man. If possible, his grin got even wider. He glided over to the couple cooing at the potter offspring, and quickly petrified the man. James potter froze in place, pupils dilating in fear as he struggled to open his mouth, but was unsuccessful. Lily didn't notice, she was so consumed in watching her baby giggling.
"Isn't he sweet?" a serpentine voice hissed next to her ear.
Eyes widening, she tried to turn around, only to be held in place by her husband's stationary hand.
"Wha-" She was cut off by a stunner, crumpling to the wooden floor.
Voldemort sighed. And these were some of the best members of the order?
Pettigrew could probably do better.
He peered down into it, to see-wait. There were two little brats? His handsome face twisted into a snarl as he scowled at them in an animalistic manner, baring sharp and shiny white canines. Trust the bitch to spurn out two at once. Typical, light wizarding behavior, they had the habit of going for quantity rather than quality. Unfortunately, the children didn't seem to have much of a reaction to his feral look. The larger one just looked at him blankly, dribbling a little, and the smaller one just smiled at him cutely and clapped his hands. They either hadn't noticed their parents lying in a heap on the floor, or didn't care. Voldemort snorted almost inaudibly. Babies were so boring. They never did anything remotely interesting. Well, bar that one time the malfoy spawn threw up over his mother at the annual yuletide death eater ball. That was amusing. The memory of Narcissa hastening tearfully from the ballroom, gown ruined, improved his mood immediately.
He focused on the children again, giving them each a closer inspection. The larger one had inherited both the trademark potter hair and hazel eyes. He was also covered in freckles from head to toe, with a pert nose and chubby cheeks. He was pretty ordinary, nothing special to look at, and not very intelligent either if his vacant expression and the copious amount of drool dripping down his chin was anything to go by. The smaller boy was much more aesthetically pleasing than the first, with sparkling lime green eyes, and a head of thick, black hair that hinted at the red of his mothers. He, like his brother had freckles, but just a smattering across his cute, button like nose. His lips were full and red as he grinned up at the dark lord and giggled. Voldemorts eyes gleamed as he closer inspected the second boy, who was decidedly beautiful. He would grow up into a beautiful man, and voldemort had always had a fascination with pretty things. Even in small, boy shaped packages. It would be a shame to kill such a sweet little thing Voldemort reasoned. The other boy must be the one of the prophecy. He would kill the other child, and take the green eyed little babe back to his home where he would be raised in… a suitable environment, where he would be taught that Voldemort was the only thing that mattered. This way not only would he no longer be a threat, he would be loyal strictly to Voldemort. Maybe he could even teach the child to call him master. Or perhaps even Daddy – Voldemort had always had a little bit of a daddy kink. It probably came from the lack of any proper paternal figure growing up, but Voldemort didn't like to associate anything with his filthy muggle father. Yes, that sounded like a wonderful idea. He would kill the larger child and transfigure a toy into an impersonation of the green-eyed boys body, but dead and lifeless. This way only he would know the little baby was alive, and the child would be strictly his.
Mine.
He smirked. What a wonderful idea.
Oh, I am a genius.
Oh yes, he was. He quickly scooped up the smaller child with one arm, and checked the back of his sleeping gear for a nametag.
Harry. How…common.
Oh well. The child was probably used to it by now and he couldn't be bothered to teach a one year old a new name. He levitated a toy truck off the dresser, transfiguring it into a carbon copy of Harry's body. He clutched his wand tightly in his hand, and before aiming it at the salivating brat in the crib he pointed it at James potter.
"Infertilus" he snarled. That would make sure the couple never reproduced again. It would also put an abrupt end to their sex life. Smirking at the thought, he turned back to the crib.
"Avada Kedavra!" he hissed, which was quickly followed by a shimmering jet of green shooting out of his wand towards the crib. Unfortunately, the child chose that moment to fall over backwards, avoiding the curse as it hurtled past him towards the panic button the order had installed behind the crib for emergencies (They obviously hadn't thought the location of that through very thoroughly, unless they were under the impression that the prophecy gave the children both the intelligence to understand what the panic button was and the shrewdness to understand when they needed to use it.). The curse hit the button dead on, setting off a deafening siren.
Bollocks.
Voldemort rolled his eyes, before clutching Harry closer and apparating away, just moments before Dedalus Diggle and Dumbledore burst, panting, into the room.
"James, Lily!"
They sprinted towards the collapsed couple. Or rather, Diggle did – Dumbledore strolled over at a much more sedate, bumbling pace.
"Oh Merlin, they've been stunned," Diggle exclaimed loudly in a horrified manner. His shout set off Jeremy, the remaining twin. Dumbledore cornflower blue eyes widened imperceptibly.
"Dedalus, Harry and Jeremy!"
The two men spun around to face the crib, momentarily forgetting the state of the two older Potters. Dedalus picked up the sobbing Jeremy, a relieved smile on his face as he bounced the baby up and down in an effort to stifle his cries.
"Harry…" Dumbledore whispered.
Dedalus looked over to the other twin, only to see a dead and lifeless body. Once again he voiced a dismayed gasp, tears brimming in his eyes. Dumbledore drew a white sheet over the baby, his expression grave.
"It think you know what this means, Dedalus," Dumbledore sighed. "There can only be one reason Jeremy is still alive, whilst young Harry has perished,"
Dedalus' tearful eyes widened in wonder, as he gazed down at the now silent Jeremy in his arms.
"The child of the prophecy…is Jeremy," he whispered in amazement.
Dumbledore nodded seriously.
"We must mark him," The older man stated solemnly, before drawing out his long, polished wand and pointing it at the child's forehead. "This mark will set him apart from everyone else as the child who Voldemort was unable to kill, as the savior, the one who will rid this world of Voldemort once and for all,"
Dedalus nodded in fevered agreement.
"Alpheo markus indefinitesus," Dumbledore muttered, before touching his wand to Jeremy's neck, and in a fluid motion drew the outline of a shield. Jeremy wailed as the mark was cut into his skin, before Dumbledore cut him off abruptly with a silencing charm.
And then, in a move reminiscent of the opening scene of the Lion King, he swept Jeremy into his arms and held him above his head. "Behold Dedalus, the child of the prophecy, the defender of the wizarding world!" he roared, spittle spraying over Diggle as he feel to his knees in reverent worship of the boy who lived.