Lord Voldemort needed a body, and he needed one fast. Not willing to hop into a mere baby, or take the life of a mud-blood, he now resides within the soul of a certain James Potter. And while James is forced to live the life of a Dark Lord, a secret spy, he must also save his son from his worst possible enemy: himself.


James Potter VS Voldemort

A cool wind marched down the narrow lanes and streets, while leaves rattled like toys on broken trees, and a man in a dark cloak made his way forward. Up ahead he could witness the little cottage at last, sitting peacefully towards the end of the lane–his servant had done well, it seemed; his spy had finally managed to blow apart the Potter's defences. Yes, secrets were meant to be broken... they should have known as such. Secrets were meant to be kept safe if the one telling truly valued their life. The Potter's should have known not to trust a friend...or anyone at all for that matter. He, Lord Voldemort, had never trusted anyone in his life and that alone was the reason he was still alive today. And perhaps...even the reason that, after tonight, no more threats would stand in his way. Peter would be rewarded, of course, and however cowardly the rat actually was, he had done well this time around. No one would escape, not now that he was overcoming his damnable fate.

His feet climbed up the front steps slowly, and before reaching out to ring the door-bell like he was so tempted to do, instead he lifted his wand and blasted open the door in shocking green. He would kill the brat who dared call himself his downfall. Voldemort would not let the child become a powerful rival, or even give hope to the resistance that there was someone to cheer for. No, he would kill the boy here, now as an infant before it was too late. He had won the battle the moment he heard of the prophecy.

Voldemort heard a scream and someone running up the stairs, but he paid no attention. His eyes roamed over the pleasant looking house, taking in the interrupted scene of daily living before finally resting on a pair of defiant eyes: James Potter. The young man was pointing his wand at him while guarding the staircase, something which, quite frankly, not a lot of people actually did. He admired the act of courage, the bravery this Gryffindor showed in a time of fear. For certainly it took a lot of guts to stand here and face him, request a battle with the Dark Lord alone and so unprepared. Or rather, to stand here and face death– for James Potter was certainly no match for him to even be considered a battle, and the one before him knew it too; his pale face showed the dread his eyes lacked to tell. But besides...Voldemort had only one goal on his mind, and he couldn't afford to play no matter how appealing the thought was.

"Leave, James Potter." Voldemort raised his wand and flicked lazily, "Or I shall send you to a finishing death. Even if I do... hate to kill precious purebloods."

"No, Voldemort." James spoke quietly, his lips trembling with all the strength he could muster. He could not even believe this was happening–he had just been laughing over coffee not even five minutes ago! But no matter how scared and sick he actually felt inside, he planted his feet and aimed, for all he was worth... gripping his wand tighter against a foe much more powerful than he.

"I won't let you go any further. Stay away from Harry." James was shocked by the certainty of his words even he did not know he had.

Voldemort raged slightly that he had spoken his name but kept quiet as he stared into the young man's eyes. He could witness his body shaking slightly but remarkably, the young wizard was holding firm against him. It was like finally saying his name, or standing here in the final moments of his life had given him a strength, a courage that blazed inside him and nothing, not even Voldemort, could defeat it now. It reminded him of the old fool, and the thought made Voldemort want to break him.

"I see potential in you, James Potter..." Voldemort stood amused and contemplated the man before him, "But I will not tolerate defiance. Now, step down and accept your fate, and maybe I shall be merciful."

"You? Mercy?" James shot back quickly, for finally he could laugh at something in this hopelessness situation, "You bastards didn't show any to-!"

"Crucio..."

A thousand screams pierced the room, and James's body instantly fell to his knees as he rolled around. Nothing but throat wrenching screams of mindless pain, horrific screeches that sounded so shrill into the night that made all else quiet. The knowledge that he had lost...but after what seemed like an eternity, Voldemort lifted the curse and James collapsed before him, panting and almost throwing up in his hurried attempts to stand.

'Do you concede now? Will you give in?'

'S-shut-up.'

And for yet another whole minute, or two, or what could have been an hour to him, nothing but terrible cries could be heard in the little Potter house. And the neighbours outside, all their friends and family who fought so hard with them, no one knew a thing of the torture which was occurring in the innocent cottage expect a certain Lily Potter, who was crying into her hands upstairs at the sounds of her husband coming from below.

"Will another dose of pain finally bring about a change in that remarkably stubborn pride of yours? Let's face it, James Potter, you cannot hope to win..." Voldemort knelt down and lifted him by the neck,

"You cannot even hope to dream. Your family will die... you will die...but the Dark Lord is always forgiving. I shall surely grant you a painless-!"

"I'd rather..."

James shot a quick spell and out of the man's grip, then backed to his previous position by the stairs. Gripping the post, despite his violently shaking hands at being under the curse for too long, he stood there once more. He breathed heavily while bringing his wand up a final time. And in the weary back of his mind... James knew that this was his last few breaths. His entire life flashed before his eyes, first an arrogant teenager in first year...he had been so conceded back then. Then he met Lily, and then–he was so scared to die, those red eyes that told him he would. He wanted to live, he felt so tired and drained but he wanted to live. His vision was going blurry, and Voldemort was sighing as he stepped closer. He wanted to love Lily and live happily in peace...Harry...have fun with Sirius one more time. Was this really the end for him? The great James Potter was finally at his games end?

"Stay away from Harry. I won't let-" James held his wand to curse but was stopped mid-sentence. Voldemort had hit him with a silencing charm and James was thrown into confusion as no sound was drawing out.

"I shall grant you death then? James Potter. I shall grant... your wish if you want it so badly..." James stood silent and glared, and all the while Voldemort was still hating the wand which pointed so strongly at him now more than ever. Even if it was completely useless, he would snap it in half.

"You're final stand shall go unnoticed... and soon... soon your family shall follow as well Avada Kedvara!"

He offered no time to react. Green light shot from the white hand and James was hit square in the chest. Before he could even look, had time to recognize the spell and jump out the way, he flew backwards and slumped over the stairs in an awkward position. His wand was still grasped in his hand, but his eyes were faded. As quickly as he had been, as quickly as he was done. The killing curse spared no one even the time to agonize. James was gone.

Voldemort laughed as he proceeded, stepping over the body and snatching the wand before continuing-on to his real goal. James Potter had fought well against him, but he didn't want anyone to think Potter was brave, or anything...that he was some sort of hero in going against him– for it was not a noble thing to defy the Dark Lord. No...by taking his wand, by leaving him looking defenceless in death, he wanted James to be seen as helpless in his final moments, perhaps the story would go. Perhaps they would say he was even grateful for dying at the hands of the Dark Lord. He would not win glory, not even in death.

"I'm going to Harry now..." Voldemort smiled at his futile attempts which were now dead and gone. No one questioned his power and authority, not James Potter... and certainly not Harry Potter. Not anyone now...not ever again.

Up the stairs he went, and he tucked James's wand safely into his pocket to break later. A sob from the room in front of him, he blasted open the final door to find yet another wand pointed straight at his face. It was a good thing he was to be getting rid of the Potter's, for this consistent defiance was annoying him. Whatever Severus had requested... this family of three needed to be taught their place did they not?

Voldemort ignored the woman for a moment and stepped in the small room. He saw her shrink back against the wall as his eyes trailed over to the crib in the corner. Then a form blocked him.

"Please!" The red-haired woman screamed and cried, such a contrast to the man below. "Please... kill me instead! Don't hurt Harry! Take me just don't hurt him!" But there it was...giving herself up for death to save her only son. What a Gryffindor thing to do.

"Silence." He pointed his wand at her and she shut up, "The boy must die. Step aside girl."

"Please..." her voice came out a cracked whisper in the dark and she dropped her wand in tears, in her need to speak out as if it was the last and only thing she could do, "Please kill me instead, just don't hurt Harry!"

"Step aside girl." Voldemort raised his wand in finality. What defiance! She was certainly testing his patience. And when she opened her mouth for yet another cry, another plea, in one quick beam she was sent head first into the wall. And just like her husband, the green soaked through her body and she moved no more. Her eyes glazed, and now she was sitting against the wall like a worn-out puppet. Voldemort smirked. What was he going to tell Severus now? He had promised. Oh well.

"One last..." He made his way over to the crib, the house now fallen silent in death. More than a single bloodshed had taken place, but it need not have been if this boy's worthless parents had allowed him free passage. Those who defy... will always pay the price.

He pointed his wand at the small baby boy with dark black hair, who was, ironically, asleep. He looked just like his father, and Voldemort...the rage he felt at James Potter had not died down yet, and his defiance swept over him once again. In all his experience, Voldemort's wand had never been this close to a body he was about to kill, and so he amused himself as he placed his wand lightly on the boy's forehead.

"Good-bye...Harry Potter. Perhaps you could have been a worthy opponent but not today. Avada...Kedvara..."

When the green shot forth from his wand, immediately Voldemort felt something was wrong; he wished to return his hasty actions but too late– he had just enough time to witness a scar forming rapidly from the boy's forehead before he was overcome by a sudden flash, and the very spell he had cursed bounced back! It ripped through his heart and tore him to pieces–if Voldemort could have screamed, even had the energy to shout he would have, for the pain he was experiencing was like no other known to him. The blast was absolute, instantaneous. Rubble crumbled around them both and dust filled his vision. Before he had time to realize what was happening to him, he wondered in a drifting time of space: was he being destroyed? Had the prophecy come true? Was he, Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard of all time...was he to be defeated by a child? How could this have happened! Oh his screams! And his anger at the boy could not be silenced!

A rock fell from the roof, quiet settling down on the scene as the smoke cleared. Voldemort realized himself, and stopped.

He felt far away, yet near...all around, yet confined to a form of sorts. And he felt incredibly weak. What was he? Was he still... alive? Then he laughed, if he could even laugh. The fact that even though he was sure he had no more body anymore, that he had been vaporized into oblivion by his own fallen curse...his secrets had been kept and it had worked! He never thought he would see the day, but his horocruxes had saved him...to some degree, at least. The prophecy be damned now, he had lived through it had he not? Even though he had no body, and he was fading fast...he was not gone completely. Oh but he should flee now! The baby was crying beneath the rocks, he should get away before-

"No." His spirit flowed over to the baby boy, the mark upon his head now bright, blood red. He needed to think fast before his defeat was discovered. In all reality, he should run away before he was caught still lingering about. But if he could get to a decent a body first...? He needed a body fast, now that his own was destroyed! Imagine... if he ran right now... trying to live in a forest and feeding off of worthless animals while hiding away. Would he, the Lord of Darkness, succumb to such an existence? He would not get another chance like this...and he knew it. He needed to act now then, before the old fool made his way here; surely in the commotion all this had caused... someone would arrive soon.

"The boy then?" Voldemort mused. No. He would not spend his time waiting for him to grow. He needed a real body.

"Hah...and I am not taking a mud-blood's body..." He scanned Lily's dark form by the wall as he floated out the door. His dark mass moved forwards and looked down the stairs. At the bottom, a body of perfect youth and size, and of pure blood was waiting for him kindly. Yes, how ironic it all was, a true coincidence really. But for now... he had no choice. He would just take over Potter's body and then–

Voldemort did not even know what state he was in, whether true solid or gas...but either way, he slid himself into the open mouth and let himself sink into his soul. He realized with this James would come back to life; with Voldemort giving him his power... he would surely live once more. But right now he felt weak...powerless...he needed energy, time to recover from the spell the boy had cast on him. He needed to sleep for a short time until he could fully recover. For now he would wait...stealthily in hiding until...the right moment. He would let James have his fun...for now.

And as the last remaining bits darkness disappeared from sight, James Potter stirred once more, and flickered his eyes...


So here is a story lol. I wrote this a long time ago but I wanted to put it up... I'm sorry if this chapter/writing is bad lol, it's basically a "prologue" chapter. I do want to finish all my ideas/stories, but I can only do what I can. I haven't had the chance to really write lately my other stories, even though it's been so long sry :( I wrote most of my chapter and part of the next next chapter, but I feel stuck and uninspired...so if anyone randomly reads this, that's the reasons why...

I also need to focus on myself, I've been so sad and school is hard for me, I try and get better but it's probably hopeless for me. I hope maybe this story will help me think and have more fun with fan-fiction. Alright, that's all :) I hope someone likes this, if not I can't do anything about it... I might rewrite some scenes if I need to. Also, if any facts about HP in here is wrong (like the secret keeper business or what the death eaters are doing), please let me know because I only go off my memory. And I don't know when I will update this, I wouldn't count on myself either lol.