Firstly, I'd love to thank all the lovely peoples who reviewed. It makes me happyz. XD Also, I'd like to say that I'd welcome any and all input, suggestions and comments….just don't expect me to try an incorporate all of them. Furthermore, I am not extremely familiar (read: obsessed) with the Harry Potter Books like some people on here, and so there will be some errors…like misspelling of spells or getting something about the Ministry of Magic's various departments wrong…just things like that. Feel free to correct me on anything. Also, this is currently a Drarry story that will have some Ron Bashing…..Iz hate that guy….If anyone wants a different "Ship" than feel free to leave some comments. Also, there will be some Severus/Lucius. I'm not sure about having Tom-Voldemort in a relationship, though I am not opposed to it. Any ideas?

And Secondly, what should Hadrian's familiar (and dementor and patronus and animagi form) be? I'm very much leaning towards snake, though I'm not sure what kind…or maybe a dragon or some kind of….TURTLE!

Warning for this chapt: some mentions of Child Abuse/Rape/Neglect. So if you are a tad touchy about these things…idk just gloss over it I guess.

LOVE YOU ALL! I'M NOT CREEPY!

(Or J.K. Rowling so I own none of this)

May the gods be ever in your favor!

-James

***1047***

Hadrian watched dully as rain slapped the outside of his foggy window. It was cold. He was cold, despite being indoors. The Mounts didn't bother heating his room. "Waste of money" they'd said. He shivered, drawing his small form closer to himself. His fingers and toes were the coldest part of him. It felt like his bones had turned to ice.

His entire body was trembling. He couldn't make himself stop, no matter how hard he tried. It scared him. He was having trouble breathing, like something was stuck on the inside of his lungs…or maybe like he was trying to breathe in molasses. He coughed wetly, feeling something inside his windpipe rattle. It was a painful sort of cold that he found himself engulfed in. Like he was being torn apart by tiny needles from the inside out.

And he was hungry. It ached. Hadrian would have sworn his stomach acid was burning a hole through his small body. But he didn't dare make a sound. The Mounts were just on the other side of his locked door, in the kitchen having dinner. If they heard him saying anything, he wouldn't get food tomorrow either. They firmly believed that "bad boys" didn't deserve things like toys, or being allowed out of their rooms…much less food.

He swallowed thickly before trying to take a deep breath. It seemed like each time he did so…it got harder. Hadrian dully wondered what would happen if he just stopped trying to breathe. It took so much work to keep doing it…it surly wouldn't be that hard to just…stop?

Another cough shook him violently, droplets of red drippled down his chin. Hadrian simply wiped it away. Then he caught sight of the blood that was on the back of his hand. Unbidden, scenes from his past whipped through his mind…he whimpered quietly.

-flashback-

Another scream tore out of him as the belt gave a sharp crack. The metal end dug into his back before getting ripped away, taking a chunk of skin with it. Blood was splattered over the walls. His throat was raw, his eyes stung, his back…his back…Hadrian gave a sob…gods his back…

"freak…don't worry this'll…this'll fix ya…" gave the slurred voice of his new 'father'. His seven-year-old hands pulled at his messy hair as he cried his heart out, begging the man to stop.

-flashback end-

More and more memories swirled around his brain, trapping him in his personal hell, surrounded by demons of his past.

"Monster"

"Worthless"

"Brat"

"Whata waste of space"

"Don't know why I bothered"

"You owe EVERYTHING TO ME, and This is how you repay me?"

"I'm sorry…but I just can't handle this…handle you"

"Hadrian, you have to go."

"Pack your things"

"You're leaving in the morning"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU FREAK!"

"….exorcism didn't work. Priest says he's a lost cause…"

"Call his social worker"

"Just can't be good, can you"

"So quiet"

"Why don't you talk?"

"SHUT UP, piece of—"

"Must be stupid"

"…so tight…"

Hadrian pounded his head into the wall, trying to make the images stop. Stop. STOP! Hadrian screamed, banging his head with more force. His breathing deepened painfully, his lungs rattling in his chest. He let out of series of hacking coughs.

-flashback-

Hadrian pulled at the handcuffs that held him to the bed. He had to get out. He had to get free.

He had to

He had to

He had to

He couldn't go through it again

God don't let it happen again.

His body was still on fire from last time. He felt dirty. He felt wrong. He wanted to run.

Just run and never look back.

He had to

He had to

He was done

With a cry he pulled with all his might, the metal digging into his skin. A loud sound startled him and he cried out. And then, amazingly…he was on the roof. How was he on the roof? Hadrian heard the man call out, angry. With a gasp, Hadrian hid in a sheltered corner.

"HADRIAN"

-end flashback-

The memories were getting faster. The worst moments of his life in High Definition and Surround Sound set on fast forward and yet he wasn't missing a detail. And worst yet…he could feel each blow…every bit of pain like it was happening all over again.

God make it stop.

He saw himself getting beat, getting starved. Being locked up. Being thrown in cages. Being neglected. Forced to shovel snow in the dead of winter without a coat. Waking up from night terrors to only be greeted by a smack in the face and told to shut the hell up. He was getting abandoned. Being given back to his Social Worker. Being told he'd never find a family. Getting….played with…by various adults that had come and gone…who had only wanted…

Nervous, anxious energy coursed through him. He wanted to cry, scream, hit a wall, tear out his hair, call for a mother who was long dead, run away and never look back, curl up into a ball and never move again, throw a tantrum, beg for mercy. Stop. Stop. Just make it stop…

He wanted to be done.

Someone pounded harshly on his door. "Quiet down in there!" Mr. Mount shouted at him. "Jesus Christ, tell me Debra, why on earth did we think we could manage a freak like that?" he said a tad quieter to his wife.

Hadrian choked back his tears, and dug his left hand fingernails into his right forearm, raking them up and down his hardened skin. His entire arm was covered in mottled scar-tissue…more so than the rest of his body…which was saying something. The only difference, was that he had done it. No one else. And he took some sick pride in this.

The familiar feel of pain calmed him. His eyes closed, and he slept.

***1047***

His knights gathered around him. His faithful followers. The Knights of Walpurgis. If only this was a cheerful gathering.

Voldemort stirred with in Lucius Malfoy's body. Ever since that fateful night at the Potters, he'd been forced to live like this. He was bound to the earthly plane because of the soul magic he'd performed on himself, however he was without a body. And so he "borrowed" other people's. With permission of course…usually.

Voldemort took control and cleared his/Lucius' throat. In front of him, were the members of his Inner Circle: Sirius Black, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Rabastan Lestrange, Rudolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Lestrange, Theodore Nott Sr., Mulciber and Parkinson. For months now, they'd been working on a deal with the Wizengamot on starting a primary school for Muggle-borns. Of course, Dumbledore had made them look bad once more, saying it was just a way for them to brainwash the Muggle-borns. To take away their culture. To steal them from their parents.

Voldemort wanted to tear his/Lucius' hair out! (The soul of the possessed blond quietly asked him not to). Firstly, of COURSE he wanted to "brainwash" them. Get silly ideas out of their heads before it became a problem. Like wanting to free house elves, or their notion that werewolves were evil or that Vampires wouldn't die in the sun…they just sparkled.

Sparkled.

Yes, sparkled.

Voldemort would love to find whoever started to spread that rumor and crucio them until they went deaf by their own screams of pain. Sparkly vampires. Hmph.

He began to issue orders, they would hold off on the primary school for now. Perhaps they would be more open to the idea of an orphanage. In addition, he wanted more pressure for the Werewolf Equality acts to be passed. Poor Lupin wanted a job. Sure, he was more than comfortable at the Malfoy's Manor…but he didn't like feeling as though he were a charity case.

Of course, Dumbledore kept pulling up werewolf cases, pointing out dangerous they could be when not controlled. Of course he'd say it all with that blasted twinkle in his eyes and grandfatherly smile on his lips. All the while throwing around words like "Death Eaters" and "plotting" to make it seem as though they wanted to use the werewolves for "nefarious purposes".

It had always been like this. Tom would try something and Dumbledore would be there to try and thwart him. When he was a boy, studying soul magic, dark magic, black magic, blood magic. When he looked into supposed "dark" creatures and their cultures. When he tried to study where squibs and muggleborns came from. Then later, firing him from his position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, after he'd been there two years, while only giving a half-excuse of Tom not having enough experience.

Not enough experience? NOT ENOUGH EXPERIENCE?! It had been decades and still the thought of it made Voldemort seethe. He's already been teaching for two years dammit. Sure he was only nineteen but…but…NOT ENOUGH EXPERIENCE? HE WAS LORD VOLDEMORT! OF COURSE HE HAD ENOUGH EXPERIENCE!

Ironically, it was Dumbledore who had given Tom that name. As a boy, in first year, Abraxas Malfoy had caught him talking to his familiar Nagini (who had just been a new hatchling then). They'd told him that he was no doubt a descendant of Salazar himself. And they began to jokingly call him "Lord Slytherin" when in the dorms, giving him little bows, kissing his robe and pretending to fear him. Tom had rolled his eyes each time, but had smiled. So they kept doing it, until one of them slipped and did it in the great hall. They'd all froze. Tom had risked a glance up towards the Head Table, and seen Dumbledore seething. Tom had smiled and waved an imperious hand at his "follower", telling him that if he didn't want to be Crucioed to get out of his sight. All of his fellow Slytherins had grinned and bowed, stumbling over themselves to apologize and praise him, thanking their "lord" for being merciful.

Of course, then they just had to do it in public as often as they could. Just to annoy Dumbledore. Years past and Abraxas had discovered that when Tom's full name was rearranged, it spelled Vol De Mort. French for either "Theft of Death" or "Flight of Death". Obviously, a thirteen year old boy thought this was hilarious, and immediately declared it to be fate.

They took to calling him either Voldemort or Lord Slytherin constantly. Later, when Tom had graduated and began to explore the various lost branches of magic, Dumbledore declared him a threat. Calling him a self-proclaimed "dark Lord" (though Tom had never said any such thing), Lord Voldemort. His followers, the Knights of Walpurgis had though this funny, and had adopted this title for their "master".

In all actuality though, the KoW had started out as a glorified study club when Tom was in Hogwarts. It was just him and his friend, determined to bring back the lost arts of magic, as well as things like male pregnancy or soul bonding or soul mate-finding or elemental abilities, wandless magic and so on. It grew as more people gained interest, and soon Tom began to teach his "followers" his findings. Then he send them on missions (after they had graduated) to go find relics to help aid them in their great and noble quest.

Soon, they had discovered the horrible attitude towards Creatures, and had made that part of their "quest" as well. They were attacked at every turn. But, ironically, it was Dumbledore who struck the first bloody blow.

He'd attacked Malfoy Manor. He killed Tom's best friend. His childhood confidant. His blood-bonded brother, Abraxas. As well as Abraxas' wife and unborn child, leaving his young son Lucius without a family. Of course, Tom took in the boy, raising him as his own…but even still, Dumbledore had crossed a line.

Tom honestly hadn't cared that Dumbledore had used the media to snub him. He didn't care when he was publicly insulted. Dumbledore's attempts to sway the Ministry away from Tom had been annoying but expected. But this…this…

The Riddle, Slytherin and Malfoy's officially announced a blood feud with Dumbledore. Dumbledore had taken it to the media, who called it a war between Light and Dark, making it seem as though Tom's battle was with the public.

Tom grit his teeth, before a gentle voice brought his mind back to the present. "My lord?" asked Severus.

Tom shook his/Lucius' head. "Severus?"

"You asked me to bring in the new Defense teacher?" Tom thought back, then nodded.

"Yes. I have a mission for him. He is, after all, one of ours." Severus bowed, then left to find one Professor Quirrell.