A/N: I'M BACK. New year, new fic. I wrote out a super long note, but then just decided to keep it short and sweet. So thanks to everyone who has continuously read/reviewed/favorited my other stories. I really appreciate it.


Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Harry Potter. Doesn't that suck? Guess I'll just have to come up with my own genius, millions-making story idea, but in the meantime, I'll just stick to writing fanfiction.

Warning: Currently, the rating for character death(s), some minor violence with very few graphic descriptions, and, of course, language (a.k.a. cursing and a few other bad words that aren't meant for young ears). If there's anything remarkable in a chapter, I'll post a warning at the beginning as well.


Chapter 1

A certain person, although he probably couldn't be called a man, stalked up to the front door of an unassuming cottage that was appearing in front of his brilliant scarlet eyes, thanks to the secret keeper revealing the secret.

Inside the cottage, panic ensued as James Potter shouted to his wife, "Lily, it's him! Take Harry and run! Hide!"

Lily Potter scooped up her infant son and raced up the stairs with a whirl of red hair, just as the front door crashed open and spells lit up the walls.

"Bombarda!" she heard her husband yell, as she closed the door to her son's nursery and began directing anything that could be spared in front of the door to act as a barricade. But then she could practically feel the spell that cut down her husband's life, and could just make out the eerily green glow that seemed to seep around the edges of the sealed door.

James Potter was dead.

And then the door exploded around them, sending splintered pieces of wood and bits of fluff flying through the air.

Lily ducked and dropped her son in his crib and turned with her wand at the ready to face Voldemort.

"You silly, little girl. Step aside and you'll be spared."

"Never."

"Step aside!"

"No, not Harry! I'll never let you kill him."

"Then I'll kill you instead." The green light filled the room as Lily Potter dropped to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. Her limbs splayed awkwardly and her wand rolled under Harry's crib.

Voldemort turned his wand on the infant in the crib, who was staring at him with big green eyes. The second he cast the spell, he regretted it, mainly because he could feel his already feel a piece of his shredded soul trying to wrench its way out of his body.

It must be some special magic.

Voldemort's eyes went black, irises and all, as he fought to cast the spell he had created only the month before. It wrestled with his soul and pieced it haphazardly back together. The misfired Killing Curse hit the wall and caused plaster to land on and around the now bawling baby.

He knew what he had to do, and that meant getting out of Godric's Hollow.

###

His one and only stop was his current headquarters, a dingy and dark stone castle in Wales. He went straight to a hidden chamber behind his throne room. He had created his new spell for a reason, but now he had a new one.

As he prepared the cast the spell, his eyes once again flooded with black and the chamber felt alive. He cast the spell, this time using much more power.

The affects started close to home, so to speak. A few meters away, the snake that many thought was his familiar, began to writhe in pain, before being rent apart as a hazy black substance leaked from its mouth and eyes.

A lot further away, in Wilthshire, a small, black book, hidden in a shadowy corner in a secret hidey hole wasted away from the inside out with a scream.

In the Come-and-Go room on the seventh floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a silver tiara studded with sapphires twisted itself into a metal heap of nothing. It had been lost before, but now it was lost forever.

In a cabinet in an empty, dreary home, a locket marked with a filigreed 'S' came to life before strangling itself with its own chain, and then disappeared forever with a puff of black smoke, causing the sole occupant, an elderly house elf, to break out in a jig. His master's final order had finally been fulfilled.

Not too far from that, a small goblet, buried in the depths of a vault in the most high-security area of a certain vault, screamed and shifted, falling off the shelf and shattering the a loud clang on the stone floor.

And in Little Hangleton, hidden under a dusty floorboard, a long-lost artifact, imbedded in a lovely gold band, turned and twisted before leaching black ooze and hissing into nothing. It definitely wasn't going to bring back the dead ever again.

And so the Horcruxes were gone. While his soul may never be fully unblemished, at least it was one moment closer to being whole.

The man who rose from the floor had dark hair, dark eyes and pale skin.

Goodbye, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Goodbye, Lord Voldemort.

Hello, Lord Marvolo Slytherin.

For a moment, he couldn't remember why in Merlin's name he was laying on a cold, filthy floor. And then it all came back to him. The murders, the Horcruxes, the insane rhetoric, the Death Eaters. What had he done? What had happened to the Knights of Walpurgis, his clear agenda? It was all gone, all of it. He had become a crazed madman without any discernable goals. Well, it was time to do this the right way.

The first thing he did was exit into the next room and he transfigured a set of somewhat decent robes and a pair of shoes out of the gruesome throne at the front. Why on Earth had he ever let people kiss his robes?

Then he tucked his wand into his pocket and set off for Gringotts.

Despite the late hour, the bank was still open. There was no one inside, however, he chose the teller the furthest from the door. No need to make this common knowledge.

"I need to claim an inheritance," he whispered to the teller, who stared at him through his gold-rimmed monocle.

"You were not welcome here. You tainted goblin-made artifacts with something evil that shouldn't be spoken of. But I can see that you have cleansed yourself. So welcome back to Gringotts, Mr. Riddle." The goblin's grin revealed two rows of pointed teeth.

"Hopefully, I will be Lord Slytherin when I leave."

"Follow me, then, Mr. Riddle."

The teller let him to a plain, wood paneled room and left him there to his thoughts. A minute later, another goblin entered the room with a silver bowl and matching knife. Let us see if you are who you really are, Mr. Riddle. Cut your right thumb and place five drops of blood in the bowl.

He did so, and put his thumb in his mouth afterwards. He wasn't dumb enough to pull out a wand in front of a goblin. The bowl glowed blue, verifying his identity.

"Mr. Riddle, You are the rightful heir to the titles, property, and wealth of the sorcerer known as Salazar Slytherin. Do you wish to claim these titles, estates, monies, and objects?"

The goblin presented him with a gold signet ring featuring a twisted serpent, which, according to the goblin, had been held in trust for ages.

"I also wish to change my name, to accompany my new title, and to erase any mention of my previous name."

"That is dangerous magic; Mr. Riddle."

"I am aware, which is why I would prefer to conduct it here, a place known for its safety and discretion."

"Very well, Mr. Riddle. As you are the one who suggested it, I believe you already know the correct words."

"Homo sum egens et novum nomen regeneratio.Ex hac hora et deinceps Tom Marvolo Riddle sit manus et clausi quoque oblivioni tradentur et Marvolo Slytherin consurget pro eo." [Translation: I am a man in need of a new name and a rebirth. From this moment forward, Tom Marvolo Riddle is to be gone and forgotten, and Marvolo Slytherin shall rise in his place. A/N: I know zero Latin - thanks Google Translate! - so if this is wrong, let me know!]

As he spoke the words, he placed his hand over the bowl and slashed open his left palm and let it flood into the small basin. Once he finished speaking, he waited for the bowl to glow white and grow warm, and once he did, he picked it up and drank every last drop of blood that there was.

As the blood magic took hold, he managed to hold in his crowing. He had succeeded. Tom Marvolo Riddle, and the cowardly anagram, was no more. The cut on his hand healed, leaving only a thin crusting of dried blood behind.

"Now if you could please sign this, Mr. Slytherin."

He knew not to press to hard, as he preferred to not have his name forever engraved in his hand. He signed the document as 'Marvolo Slytherin' and then the goblin congratulated him.

"Here is your family ledger, dating back to the beginning of your family line. Through your maternal connection to Salazar Slytherin, you have nothing. The Gaunts wasted each and every last penny, and technically, they never even owned that hovel in Little Hangleton. However, Salazar Slytherin passed parts of his fortune down to all three of his children, not just his first born. His younger son and daughter never had children, meaning that, as the last living descendent of Salazar Slytherin, you inherit their inheritances. This includes the smaller of the two Slytherin manors and a modest fortune."

Marvolo nodded to the goblin before rising and leaving. After a lengthy trip down into the depths of Gringotts and relieving his new vault of several hundred galleons, he headed onto his next destination, his new home.


NEXT TIME:

'Her hair fanned around her head, like an angry, copper halo, demanding that he call on the archangel within and exact revenge in her memory.'

A/N: Just an FYI, I'm already halfway through writing Chapter 11 (as of 1/3/16), so yay!