The Beginning of the End
Voldemort decides, upon seeing the infant Harry, that instead of killing him, he will raise him, to create a formidable and powerful ally. But what happens when Harry, age 16, heir to the Death Eater throne, discovers the truth about his past?
J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am nothing.
Godric's Hollow
Halloween. 15 years ago.
Voldemort entered the Potter's home, laughing in his head at how oblivious James and Lily Potter were. James was playing with Harry in the living room, and the little boy was laughing. Lily was somewhere else, yet neither of them could have known that the fidelous charm had been broken, Peter Pettigrew betraying their trust to the Death Eaters.
James came out into the hallway, unarmed, his face showing alarm.
"Lily! It's him! Take Harry and go!" James yelled.
Voldemort laughed, and with a flick of his wand, and the killing curse on his lips, there erupted a flash of green from the tip of his wand that brought James to his quick death.
Voldemort heard Lily upstairs, and so he made his way up there, his mind always on the baby Harry, who, if his sources were correct, would one day defeat him… Him, the most powerful wizard that ever lived…
Lily had her arms outstretched, protecting Harry, her face swimming in tears.
"Don't kill him! Kill me instead!" she was yelling.
Voldemort sneered.
"You silly mudblood. Stand aside, and I will have no reason to kill you. Why… I might even allow you to join my side if you're good…" Voldemort said.
"Never! I would never!" she yelled, still rooted to the same spot.
"So be it! Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort yelled, and Lily fell dead onto the floor, just like her husband had a moment before.
Voldemort laughed, a sick, twisted, maniacal laugh that seemed ceaseless. He approached the crib Harry was laying in, and looked down on the boy. The splitting image of James, even at such a young age, Voldemort felt nothing but hatred for the thing.
He lifted his wand, about to mutter the killing curse, when Harry started crying. At once, the lights flicked on and off in the house, as well as all along down the street. Voldemort snuck a look outside, and for a brief second all the lights in Godric's Hollow seemed to have burned ever more brightly, then extinguished themselves at once. Voldemort was left in darkness with the baby Harry, the only light streaming in through the window from the moon outside.
Voldemort looked down at Harry, who had quit crying and was instead sniffling quietly. Such power… At such a young age…
He thought of what power the boy might possess, how he would be able to do things average wizards would kill to be given the power to do… And he saw the boy turn on him, in a fight many years hence, wand aloft and staring right at him, killing him…
He raised his wand immediately, determined to finish him off, when a sly thought entered his mind… What if…? What if somehow… the boy would be able not to use his power against him… but to help him?
Voldemort gazed down at Harry. Together… Apart, one would eventually have to kill the other… But if Voldemort was able to get Harry under his wing, train him in the dark arts, what a formidable ally he would be…
Mind decided, he picked up Harry, glad when the he did not start crying again, and dissaperated on the spot, leaving the house, and leaving Godric's Hollow forever.
15 years later…
Harry stared at his parchment, quill in hand, wondering just how to begin the essay he had been assigned to do over the winter holidays… It was on the basilik species of snakes, though it was not a lack of knowledge on the subject that kept him from getting started; he simply knew too much about them and was having trouble narrowing down the information to write a brief two page essay.
Thinking that maybe lunch and a quick word with his father would help him, he got up from his desk and called for Latch, the house elf who oversaw the kitchens.
"Yes Master Harry?" Latch said, bowing low, his ears quivering in fear.
Harry smirked, seeing that the indent he had left on the house elf's shoulder with his boot the last time Latch had been disobedient was still very visible.
"A quick lunch Latch, I'll be taking a shower, I expect it to be here by the time I am done," Harry said.
Latch nodded. "Yes, of course. Would master like anything in particular?"
"Some toast and spread would be good," Harry said. "And my tea the way I like it."
Latch bowed again. "Of course, of course, right away."
The house elf dissaperated, and Harry stalked over to his closet, and opened the doors, stepping inside. He had a walk in closet; with the amount of clothes and things he had, the size of it had been quite necessary.
He picked out a navy colored robe with silver trimmings, some underwear, socks and shoes, then laid them out on his four poster bed. He then stripped of his clothes, threw them on the floor, and walked into his private bathroom. A tub which could have fit maybe fifteen people comfortably was on one end; everything was spotless and shone; gold and white marble adorned the room.
He took a quick bath, dried himself then walked into his room. His toast and ten different spreads were laid out, as was his tea, steaming on a small plate. He dressed, ate quickly, then left his room to find his father, whom he thought could help him start the essay on basilisks.
He meandered up and down the vast hallways of the mansion he lived in, with save no one else except his father. It was rather large, with ornate staircases, marble floors, priceless works of art along the walls, and a large backyard that stretched for miles until it hit the wild forests of Albania.
Thinking he must have been in his study, Harry went down two flights of stairs and turned a sharp left. He came upon a magnificent red oak door, and gently knocked.
"Come in," said a voice from within.
Harry opened the door and stepped foot in his father's study, which was rather dark, the curtains having been closed except for a sliver, and with a fire impossibly high in the large fireplace behind the an ornate desk and high backed chair. In the chair was a tall, thin pale man, his nostrils snakelike, his mouth nothing more than a horizontal slit on his face and impossibly red catlike eyes. He was writing something down a piece of parchment, but put down his quill and gazed at the boy before him when he entered.
"Harry. What do I owe the pleasure?" the man said, looking ever as impassive.
"I have an essay father…" Harry began. "It is on basilisk, and I was wondering if perhaps you would give me an idea how to get started- say, the most important thing about a basilik?"
Voldemort folded his hands over the piece of parchment.
"Loyalty. You will not find any other creature so loyal as a basilik," he said.
Harry nodded, wondering how to work that into his essay.
"Thank you," Harry said. "I think that will work."
He turned to leave, but his father had spoke again.
"Harry, I am throwing a little get together tonight. Official business of course, but I have invited those with young wizards and witches to bring them as well," he said. "There will be a separate place for you to be once I am to discuss business with my followers."
"Oh," Harry said, excitement leaping inside of him. He hadn't seen any of his friends since they departed from school. "Oh, okay."
"Proper attire is required. Have Latch bring it up to you at a quarter to seven. At seven our guests should be arriving."
Harry smiled, although his father's face was a blank as ever.
"Great, I'll finish the essay and be ready then," he said, and walked out of the room, excited that he would get to spend some time with his friends tonight. He rarely got to, not when he was staying with his father.
Voldemort had seen Harry's excited smile; the one thing he had not been able to worm out of the boy was the way he always showed his emotions- whether angry, sad or happy. He detested that, yet over all, the boy composed himself with dignity and he had the stature and the aura of one of great nobility.
Voldemort felt a twinge of excitement fill him up. The boy's seventeenth birthday was coming up soon. And once the Dark Mark was branded on his left arm, he would belong to his side forever.
'Keep your friends close,' Voldemort thought. 'But keep your enemies closer.'
