Hello again. :) Looks like I DID manage to update this weekend. WOO! It was only because I decided to procrastinate on studying. I'm such a lazy ass. ANYwho, I'm gonna go ahead and reply to reviews, which there weren't many of (mean glare) :D but I hadn't expected much. I didn't actually write anything new, I only redid everything. This'll be the first new chappie since, like, January. How about that! :D Anyways, shout out to watchheart8969 and Mashkai30. You're amazing for writing me a review! :D Hope you guys enjoy.

Btw, my length is what I promised. A solid 7,179 word length, not counting the A.N. How I have grown! :D Your welcome for the longish chapter and enjoy!

-Words-: Parceltongue

Words: Thoughts

"Words": Dream

~~~: change of POV, but only if it's an abrupt change. Sometimes I do it mid paragraph when my characters are all talking to one another in the same room or telepathically (future), but if one leaves the room and I switch to their POV, expect that sign.

Ch. 11

A New Life

"Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."
― L. Frank Baum

"Harry, welcome to your new home." Voldemort whispered.

In front of the two powerful wizards stood an immaculate building, or more like mansion. It was extremely tall; it must have been at least three stories. Beside the one tall structure were two more, each only about one to two stories. Every part of the house was perfectly symmetrical, something both Harry and Voldemort took pleasure in for some reason. The building itself was a cool stone with dark rock accenting it. There were five windows that fell across the entire structure in a straight line and one large door stood in the center, white wood gleaming in the sun. In front were many different trees, some bearing fruit in fact. Flowers could be seen everywhere, but surprisingly, all the different colors didn't feel oppressive, like they did at the Dursleys. Here, the beauty of them was like a breath of fresh air.

Even though Harry couldn't see the back, he knew it would be beyond gorgeous as well. For a moment, Harry forgot his new father (the thought seemed to always bring chills and a smile to his face) was even there; distracted by the beauty of his new home as much as he was. In response, Harry merely nodded distractedly and grinned even more brightly, and Voldemort couldn't help but smile as well. Harry's happiness was too infectious to ignore, even for a Dark Lord. He gently led him inside, noticing Harry flinch, but understanding why so he didn't comment. Harry would heal soon enough; he wasn't weak.

As they entered Slytherin Manor, a place none of his Death Eaters knew about, bare the Malfoys, since he regularly spoke to them of what information Lucius could manipulate from Fudge and other Ministry officials, which was unsurprisingly quite a bit. If he hadn't known the Malfoy's had complete loyalty to him, he would have been quite wary of both; Narcissa and her mate were extremely slippery and ambitious, just as a Slytherin should be. Snape might know of it as well, even if Voldemort was a tad hesitant to do so. Not only was Severus a master Occulems and Leginims, which meant the Dark Lord would always have trouble figuring whether or not his cunning Potions Master was speaking the truth, but he also had a strong love for the mudblood, Lily Potter. Since she was so firmly with the Light, Voldemort was not sure which side he spied for, his or Dumbledore's. However, the Dark Lord was sure Harry could form a bond with the Potions Master, who was extremely loyal to those he cared for, and had a weakness for green eyes. Since Harry didn't look much like his father, more like Lily than anyone, Voldemort was confident Snape would soon love Harry as much as his own godson. Soon enough though, hopefully little Harry wouldn't like either of his parents.

As he stepped inside his home, he was greeted with the usual house elf taking his cloak, Jiddler he thought her name to be, but was also met with a sight that unwillingly warmed his cold, dead heart. Harry, with those damned adorable black curls and glistening emerald eyes had his bow-like mouth open wide in untamed awe. His small white hands slowly went to cover it, a light blush dusting his fair cheeks in embarrassment. Voldemort knew exactly what his future adopted son was thinking. His house was wonderful after all. As you enter, you're greeted with the regular Slytherin colors, but with a bit of a more homey change. Instead of cold green and molten silver, he had decided to cover the walls in a forest green and dark wood. To the right you could see the living room, which was made of the same dark wood, but the walls turned to cream.

As they moved on, Voldemort spoke of each room and Harry just nodded, still unable to speak through his joy. The dining room was made in a navy blue and gold instead, but the floors were still dark. As they moved upstairs, Voldemort skipped over the training rooms that he would show Harry in the coming weeks and the guest rooms. He showed Harry each of the bathrooms, not that he really needed to. Of course his heir would have his own bathroom in his room, but it was always nice to know where things were. The walls in the hallways were the same dark green as downstairs, but the wood was a bit lighter. As he reached the final floor, he showed Harry where his own quarters were and then showed the small boy to his. The Dark Lord had left everything white, wishing to allow the boy to make it whatever color he wished. However, if he dared to make it an overbearing red and yellow he would quickly change it to something of his own choosing. Such things would never be in his home.

As he watched Harry's angelic face, he could see the boy's eyes tearing up, so Voldemort quickly took his leave, completely understanding what the boy was going through. Even though he wouldn't tolerate such a show of weakness in the future, he knew what feelings the boy had, and he was even younger than Tom Riddle had been when he felt them. It was only natural for him to not be able to control himself. However, he knew Harry wouldn't want his new father figure to see him in such a way, so he left, for once taking into consideration another's feelings.

It was too much to handle.

Harry distantly heard Ruby tell him to just touch each piece of furniture, think of a color, and it would change to that, but his mind was on other things. However, he thanked him internally for leaving. He needed time to control himself. Harry went to the first armchair he saw and changed it to a familiar purple and sunk down into the soft, plush seat.

Is this even real? He thought to himself; one tear unwillingly falling from his eye. I don't deserve this. Vernon must have knocked me out and this is all a dream. Freaks don't deserve such great dreams though.

Just as he was about to let another tear fall, he realized that it was.

It is real.

He took a look around the room and immediately thoughts of all that had happened to him, all the pain and hurt, were whisked away at the promise of a new life. Now, he had a father, and an actual friend, who just happened to be a vampire. While he wished Moony, and maybe even Padfoot, were there with him, he knew it was for the best that they stayed behind. If Remus ever came back, of course he would welcome him with open arms, but if he denied Harry, which would hurt so much he didn't even want to think about it, it would be for the best. Not only were they on opposite sides, which he didn't even know what each stood for now that he thought about it...but but no matter how much Remus loved him, he was still friends with the people he hated. Even if he could never wish for the hurt or death of his first friend like he did his previous family, he would not beg for him back. He was stronger than that.

Thoughts of the future filled his mind like hydrogen peroxide, burning away bad memories as if they were infections, and they were, in a way. As he gained control over himself once more, Harry touched each piece of furniture in his room, reveling in the fact all of this was his. Besides his journal, he hadn't had any possessions or anything of his own since he was five. He made the walls a dark, royal purple and the carpet a midnight blue. The sheets, which were silk he was gleeful to notice, were silver and the comforter was a dark forest green like the first floor's walls. He made the bathroom a maroon, for a reminder of both Remus's Gryffindor roots and Ruby's eyes. The rest of the tiles were just a cream. All the wooden furniture was a dark wood, like the dresser, wardrobe, bookshelf, and desk. There was only one large window in his room, which he was excited to see had a window seat, and he colored the curtain to match the dark blue floor.

All in all, he was extremely pleased with how his room looked. He was mostly excited for the chance to fill his large bookshelf though. He could practically taste the knowledge that he was bound to learn here. It was undoubtedly without bounds. After two years of beatings and no books, besides the muggle ones that Dudley refused to read for school, Harry was dying to read something magical. Muggle history, science, and math were all very interesting, but public school first grader books could only entertain him for so long.

Harry slowly walked out of his room and followed the feel of Ruby's magic. Even though Harry was especially sensitive to magic, anyone could feel the Dark Lord's power without even trying. Green converse squeaked on the floor at first, but Harry lightened his steps immediately, a skill he had sadly needed to learn to steal food from the Dursleys at night. He noticed that Voldemort had gone to the third floor, which was actually only a single room. Harry felt the wards pass over him and judge him fit to enter. What greeted his sight was something he had been depraved of for far too long. Books upon books upon books filled the whole floor to the brim. In the center were a few couches and lamps, and the walls were almost completely covered in large bay windows. The carpet was dark green, a color he was now getting used to seeing a lot, and the walls seemed to be a silver color, like his sheets, but with all the windows you could barely see the walls.

Sitting in one of the two armchairs was Ruby, clad in only a white button up shirt and black pants that shimmered like his robes had. It was weird to see the Dark Lord's feet; they were far too white to be normal. Blood red eyes glowed like molten lava once Harry had finished observing his figure. Just as Harry was about to blush, he stopped himself. Voldemort lifted one corner of his mouth in a dark smirk, but Harry could feel the approval behind those powerful eyes. He lightly waved his boy over and Harry walked silently, like a cat. He sat down in the opposite chair, oddly loving the feeling of being eaten by it. As he got comfortable, Voldemort didn't move from his relaxed position, but Harry could feel the man tense; knowing that they were going to speak of very important things.

"Now Harry, for you to live here with me there will be some rules and things you will need to know and be prepared for…"

And as Harry listened in rapt attention, the Wizarding World's fate unknowingly changed for the worst, or maybe, in fact, for the best.

8 Years Later

"You best be quiet you bloody freak and get in your damn cupboard!" A thick fist smashed into his face, blood falling like tears. "How dare you get grease on Petunia! You'll wish you'd never been born when I'm through with you."

Harry woke up in a flash, faint memories of one of his first punishments at the dirty muggle's home quickly being stowed away behind thick Occlumency walls. However, unlike he would have many years ago, the need to cry or hide away didn't arise. While he did have nightmares about them every now and again, there were worse things to be afraid of. Besides, one day he would kill them off and spill every last drop of their dirty blood, proving that he was better and more powerful than them in every way. They were nothing to, and compared, to him.

Harry slowly rose, cracking his back on the way and went to take a shower. His room and bathroom were still the same colors that he had made them when he was seven. He never wanted to forget that day, for it had been one of the best of his life. After his father had spoken to him of the east and west wings, of how he was never allowed in there and if he dared to enter either he would be severely punished and a few other things, like his training. In a little under two years he had learned the West was where Voldemort stored his prisoners and Potion's lab, which contained many dangerous ingredients, and the East was where his Death Eaters went to meet with him. However, at seven he hadn't been quite ready to know of the war and of the… interesting people he had employed, so Voldemort hadn't told him right off.

The first few months of his stay had strictly been getting to know his new father figure and reading up on magics and other things. Since Voldemort hadn't yet decided to announce his "not dead" state to anyone but the Malfoy's, who gathered most of his outside information for him, he hadn't been busy with anything to do with the war. Therefore, he spent all of his time with Harry, whether it just be sitting in the library quietly together, just reading, or having debates on magic or philosophical things, like whether or not bloody purity mattered or of the things wrong with their world in general. Mostly, all of these debates until he hit about 11 or 12 were just Voldemort telling Harry what he thought and influencing him. Harry, as he had aged, could now see how his father had manipulated him. Now though, he could see the flaws and truths of Voldemort's ideas, and he mostly agreed with him. Harry had even managed to change some of his father's opinions. He was pretty sure only he had ever successfully even attempted that without being cursed to oblivion, let alone actually succeeded. But over the years, he and Ruby had gotten quite close. Even closer than he and Sebastian were and definitely more than he and Moony had ever been.

Thoughts of Moony still pained him though. Even though he wished his overprotective, yes, Lord Voldemort was overprotective, father would let him go on raids like Aunt Bellatrix and Lucius, he was secretly glad he hadn't. If Harry was faced with Uncle Moony or Padfoot, he honestly had no idea what he would do. He only knew that he would never be able to harm either of them. He just couldn't. Thoughts of Aunt Bellatrix and Lucius brought a smile to his face while he washed. At age 13 he had been introduced to Malfoy for Pureblood etiquette training. Also, as Voldemort had started preparing for war again, he needed a teacher to keep him on track with his lessons. At 14, he had met Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband, and his brother. At first, Harry had been a bit wary of the three. Azkaban had left them a tad...unhinged. Soon enough though, just a little over three months, they had all warmed up to each other. Bella could be surprisingly motherly and both Lestranges were excellent teachers. Rabastan, who was Bella's husband, specialized in the Dark Arts like his wife, but Rudolphus taught Harry Ancient Runes and Warding. Harry had been very interested in what they taught and just happened to have a natural talent in both subjects.

While he did well in all subjects, he still struggled a bit in Transfiguration and whenever his father didn't teach him History of Magic he was beyond bored. He had always done extremely well in both Potions and Charms, something Ruby always secretly told Harry that he got from him. Speaking of his father, as Harry stepped out of the shower, he took a look at his appearance, something that was actually quite different from what he had looked like beforehand. The reason why he looked so different was because of Voldemort, or as he now had the right to call him, father. After only a few short months the Dark Lord had asked Harry if he wished to actually become his son. Not only in relationship, but in blood. After another month of brewing and preparations Harry had undergone the ritual to actually become his father's son.

Now, the ritual didn't completely rid Harry of Potter blood, he was disappointed to find out, but it made Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, the most prominent figure in his creation. For an example, if Harry ever decided to undergo a parental test, the only name that would show up would be Tom Riddle. This also legally changed Harry's name to Harry Riddle. Besides that, there were a few changes to his appearance, but not many. It turns out that even beforehand, Harry had looked very much like his father in his youth. One of the most prominent changes was his body figure. Before, he had been very petite and just overall tiny, like Lily. Now, he shared his father's figure, slender and lithe, but still had a small layer of muscle. His skin had also matched the white, creamy shade of his father's. He had also grown, but that hadn't shown until he was about 12. At 15, he was now a solid 5'10. While he wanted to be as tall as his father, 6'3, he knew he couldn't inherit everything.

Sebastian still insisted on tormenting him on his short size compared to everyone around him. He often bragged about his tall, 6'2 height, but it was an old game that they both enjoyed, knowing that there was no actual spite involved. Besides, it just made him quicker and more agile. Mostly, his face stayed the same. Same light, but sharp bone structure, high cheekbones, bow-like lips, and slender eyebrows, which had actually curved a bit like Voldemort's after the ritual. The second largest change in Harry's opinion had been his eyes. Instead of the solid green he had had beforehand, now he had a solid black line that circled around his entire green iris. His father had said that when he was a boy, he had had the same line when he still had blue eyes. Now, that line was just a darker red than the rest. Harry was glad for it though. Now, his eyes glowed even more dangerously.

He smirked in the mirror, not realizing that it was the same smirk his father often wore, and changed into his usual clothing, white v-neck, dark navy jeans, and his first dark green pair of converse. He had never had the heart to get rid of them, same as the clothing his best friend Sebastian had gifted him. Every time he grew he would just enlarge them. He also made sure to keep them in good shape. He knew it would hurt him if they ever broke or became unusable because then he wouldn't have any reason to keep them. He ran a hand through drying coal-black curls, still disappointed that he hadn't gained the straight dark-brown locks of his father. With them, he never managed to look his age. Every time he pouted about them Voldemort would laugh, which would make him love the dark curls instead, since anything that made the usually cold man happy was worth keeping forever.

Today was a big day for Harry. It would be his first mission for his father. After weeks of begging, not that he would ever admit that he had, bare a few torture sessions from Aunt Bella, and big glistening emeralds that his father could never resist, he had caved and told Harry that he could go on a mission. After an excited and very expressive letter sent to Seb, an emotion he would only let either this father or Sebastian see, and two weeks of extremely strenuous training at the hands of Bella, Lucius, and the other Lestranges, Ruby had conceded into allowing his son to go off on a mission. Harry was beyond thrilled at the chance to prove himself to his father. It was one thing to do well with schooling, a whole other to put that knowledge to practical use. As he gracefully walked over to the East Wing, knowing that even if the Lestranges and Malfoy were allowed to teach him they still weren't allowed in the main portion of the house, and entered the throne room his father often used to speak with his Death Eaters. However, to his surprise he was met not with just four Death Eaters, but will all of them.

Many different faces, some pale, tan, thin, fat, male, female, etc., but all of them seemed to be related in some way. Perhaps it was all the dark magic that exuded from each of their haunted eyes. Either way, Harry didn't allow any of his surprise to show. He merely cocked his head a bit to the left, long arms held together behind his back. He looked over at his father and let one thin black eyebrow rise, eyes betraying his amusement. The Dark Lord smirked in his direction, a look most of the Death Eaters present weren't familiar with. His father waved him over lazily, but Harry could tell that his father was excited to introduce him to his Death Eaters. Surprisingly, his father was pretty normal when it came to his feelings for his son. One of those prominent feelings being the need to show him off.

As he slowly glided over, Harry asked his father with his eyes, or more like with Leginimency, whether or not he was expected to kneel or even kiss the hem of his robes. Voldemort frowned slightly, and shook his head. He would never make his heir, no son, bow to him. It just wasn't right. Seven years ago he wouldn't have felt that way, but now, for the first time, he had someone he genuinely cared for. It was a weakness that he wouldn't give up for the world. And since he would literally have that in a little under a decade if his plans went smoothly that was saying something. Harry nodded in response, still gracing his father with a bow even if he wouldn't have required it. Ruby deserved that respect, whether Harry was his son or not.

He tossed one of his spare rings into the air and transfigured it into a emerald green, padded, but straight chair like his father's throne. He kept a few of those rings on him constantly for this exact purpose. Besides, he needed to practice Transfiguration whenever he could since it was his weakest subject. He took a seat without turning his back to the many Death Eaters in front of him, the unbelieving and jealous glances not bothering him in the slightest. He lightly crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, one elbow on the hard armrest, and leaned his head on it. One stray curl fell in his face, but he let it be. It would just fall again if he moved it and he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of his father's soldiers.

He saw Bella start grinning in his direction and she soon began cackling. Harry winked in her direction; her antics would never cease to amuse him. Voldemort quickly got to business though, and the slightest movement of his body brought everyone in the room to attention. It was impossible to ignore the man. His red eyes glowed in the dark room and many had to suppress a chill at the feel of his dark and seductive magic. It only seemed to have become more powerful over the past seven years. Only Lord Voldemort and his son knew why. It turned out that the many horcruxes Voldemort had made, had weakened his magic considerably. To a man any less powerful than he, all that soul-splitting would have killed them. So, when Voldemort had discovered this, he had naturally absorbed his horcruxes back. First he did the diary, which held the largest portion of his soul, then the Hufflepuff cup and Ravenclaw's diadem. He had kept both the necklace and ring, not wishing to completely give up his immortality.

However, while he had done this he had also discovered that his adoptive son was in fact a horcrux as well. It had been hard to tell since by that point Harry had already become his son, so his magic had turned dark and his aura became similar to that of Voldemort's. Beforehand, if the Dark Lord had checked, he would have easily seen that a piece of his soul was stuck in his heir. Before the ritual, Harry's magic had been overwhelmingly light, but in the corner was a familiar piece of dark that would have been a dead giveaway if he had been looking. However, at Harry's reaction to Voldemort ring when he had shown it to him when he was 11, he had known immediately.

After another very painful ritual, the soul shard was removed from Harry, but to both of their delights, Harry kept the Parseltongue skill. Voldemort said it was because of the adoptive ritual Harry had that power, but Harry was just grateful that he kept it. He would have been extremely saddened to find he could never speak to Caligula again, who was the snake Harry had been given when he was four from Sirius. The beautiful and rare serpent had escaped from the Potter home when Harry was moved to the Dursleys, but hadn't stopped looking for his master for a second. At nine, Voldemort gifted his son with Caligula, a serpent he had had the pleasure of meeting while speaking to a pack of werewolves in Wales. As a gift, he gave him to Harry, but on the second of meeting they recognized each other, making the gift so much more valuable to him.

Once he removed the portion of his soul from Harry, instead of absorbing it like he had done with the others, he had put it into another object. That being Harry's journal. At Harry's surprise and distress, Voldemort had merely shaken his head and sat Harry down for one of their most bonding moments.

Flashback

"You are the only person I truly trust in this world Harry. Over the past few years you've proven yourself to me in more ways than you even know. I know you would never allow my soul to be discovered, let alone damaged." Even then Harry had refused to keep something so important. Even if Voldemort trusted him, he didn't trust himself. The Dark Lord had just put a whole bunch of special Parseltongue wards onto the object, making it impervious to things like fire and made it's dark aura unable to be seen or felt by anyone besides a speaker of Parseltongue. "Besides, my young Harry, even if it is destroyed, it shall return to me as long as I have a body. And I shan't ever become that wraith again."

End Flashback

Memories of that day never failed to make Harry smile. Knowing that someone trusted him so completely...well, he would never betray that trust. The book, since it had a horcrux within it, gave Harry the ability to talk with Voldemort through those pages. Since it was such a small portion of his father's soul, just 1/64 of the entire thing, it couldn't speak to him as his father said the diary could have. However, it was a link to Voldemort's mind, so they could speak, no matter where Harry was. He had a feeling that without that ability Harry wouldn't have been able to go on this mission. Like he had said, his father was very protective.

Said man's voice cut through his thoughts like butter, for not even he was immune to his father's presence and listened in the same rapt attention as he had when he was seven years old. The man had not changed a bit, his powerful wizarding blood keeping him young, along with his horcruxes. His father had told him that his body would eventually decay at about four hundred years, so each time he would need to create another. Harry had no idea who would help him, but before he himself died he would make sure that his father had someone to help him come back. Even if Harry had no intentions of living forever, he would do anything to make sure his father's wishes came true. Secretly though, Harry hoped that his father would allow himself to die at four hundred. He didn't want to be alone in the afterlife and he definitely didn't want his father to be alone on Earth.

"My fellow Death Eaters, I'm sure you're surprised at the sight of an unknown young man who doesn't kneel at my feet or sit among you. This wizard is actually, in fact, my son and heir."

At Voldemort's exclamation, not one person did look shocked or surprised. Not even Lucius or the Lestranges had known Harry was Lord Voldemort's son, just that he was favored as his heir, not that he would ever need one. Not one expression crossed Harry's serene face, but internally he was smirking evilly, as was his father.

"You are to treat him as you would treat me. In all sense of the word, he is my equal." Suddenly, the dark seductive magic in the air turned cold and oppressive. However, Voldemort's expression did not change. It stayed as happy and serene as his son's. His eyes flared with threats and cold anger though.

"If I hear even a whisper that any of you have even thought of harming my son, you shall be tortured by me, personally." At his words, no one failed to shiver, and more than a few whimpered in terror. Lord Voldemort wasn't known for getting his hands dirty. Yes, if you didn't fulfill a task or made a mistake he would Crucio you for a minute or two, but the hardcore torture he spoke of was mostly done by either Bellatrix or another high ranking Death Eater. The last person their Lord had personally tortured hadn't been gifted death for years. No one wanted to be in that position. Not like Regulus Black.

"Am I understood?" the Dark Lord whispered, but no one had any trouble hearing. Various nods were seen and just as quick as it came, the cold magic disappeared and went back to what it was.

"Excellent. Now, what our next plan will consist of-" Voldemort spoke, but Harry drowned him out.

The only mission he was worried about right now was the one he was going to be sent on. Besides, what he was saying was probably just a mixture of a pep talk, a few warnings, and the light outline of an actual plan his father would undoubtedly tell him about in depth later. Since even the lower ranked Death Eaters were present, there was no way he was speaking of anything important. Only his Inner Circle was trusted with real plans. Both he and Ruby were aware that there were traitors in his army, but that was okay. This way, they could send false information to the Order of the Phoenix without even trying. As they all started leaving, besides Bella, the Lestranges, and surprisingly both Malfoy's, Harry focused deadly green eyes again, but didn't sit up. He was comfy after all.

"I swear, young Mr. Riddle, all those years of Pureblood etiquette went through one ear and completely out the other." Red eyes darkened a bit, not sure if Malfoy was actually berating his son or not, only he was allowed to do that, but his perfect Harry just gave a low chuckle and straightened up, however, he left long legs crossed.

His son gave an easy smile to Malfoy and Voldemort reveled in the feeling of his heart warming at the sight. In the first few years of knowing Harry and raising him, he had felt much that he hadn't understood. Never before had he cared for another, but his boy had managed to worm his way into his cold, brutal heart. Nagini had slowly helped him realize that he actually loved Harry, but platonically of course, and at first he had been bent on getting rid of him immediately.

The gift of Caligula, as he was now called, was actually a murder attempt, he was guilty to admit. When he had met the rare and deadly snake in a forest, he had asked him if he wouldn't mind killing someone for him. The snake had readily agreed, as long as Voldemort helped him find his master. Usually the Dark Lord would have just killed Harry himself, but all those nights he had tried, he had just been able to stare at those damned ebony curls strewn across a silver pillow and small pink mouth slightly open, his small chest moving up and down being the only sign he was even alive. He hadn't even been able to lift his wand at the boy, but one time, when Harry had been on his belly, he had gotten close, but then the idiot child HAD to whisper his nickname, Ruby, lovingly and snuggle even deeper into the covers.

Damn child.

Knowing that the poison would kill Harry in under five seconds gave him the comfort that he wouldn't have to watch caring emeralds catch on to his plan, as he surely would, and turn to the hateful ones that were just a shade darker when he thought of his relatives. He wouldn't be able to stand them being directed at him. So on Harry's ninth birthday, he made sure to make it extra special, giving in to Harry's demands of baking a red velvet cake by scratch with him and taught Harry the spell he had created a few decades ago that would allow you to fly without a broom.

Harry had always loved flying.

Then, when present time came he handed Harry a large blue and purple box with holes and a silver bow with a heavy heart and watched as his heir, his son, slowly tore off the paper. Just as Harry took off the lid, Voldemort knew he had made a mistake. He couldn't let Harry die. There was so much he knew he would miss. As he took off the top, visions of Harry's bright smile and painfully loving emerald eyes that now shared the same black strip his own had raced through his brain. A sharp pang of, fear?, ran through his, what he had thought to be, dead heart. If Harry died, he would never see those things again. They would never be directed at him again.

And suddenly, Voldemort couldn't take it.

He couldn't stand the idea of never feeling his heart warm at Harry's pure and innocent face. But it was too late. Just as he was about to stop Harry, he had already taken the lid off and the snake had sprung. Voldemort was just about to yell at the snake in Parseltongue, but internally knowing it was all for not, but there was no need. Right before the snake bit Harry, he stopped and sniffed him.

Both he and Harry shared the same look of disbelief and he whispered, -Caligula?- and the snake hissed, -Master?- at the same time.

Harry looked up and his caring and love filled emeralds and bright smile were once again aimed at him and Voldemort literally sighed in relief that he had been able to see them once more. Nagini internally smirked in the corner, knowing that her Tom had finally accepted his love for their snake-child. She knew it would have only been a matter of time.

Ever since that day, Voldemort had become more open with his care for Harry, not that anyone else knew, and his son made sure not to hold back in his own love. The Dark Lord also just happened to develop a weakness for green eyes as well, and could understand where Severus came from for once. They really were quite wonderful.

"Please, all because I don't actually use the lessons doesn't mean I don't know them. Do you dare doubt my eidetic memory Mr. Malfoy?" He grinned. Lucius smirked in response and tilted his head up, long white-blond hair falling across his shoulders.

"Of course not young Master Riddle. I wouldn't ever dare."

Harry's grin then turned into one of his famous bright smiles and went to hug Lucius. His smile dimmed a bit at Narcissa, he had never spent much time with her, but he still bent to kiss her hand nonetheless. Immediately after, Bellatrix ran over and engulfed him in a strong embrace, squeezing him so hard he couldn't breathe, literally. He took it without complaint though. With the first seven years of his life filled with neglect at first, then only hurt, he could admit he was a bit starved for affection. She gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek, dark brown eyes bright and gleeful. She cackled loudly and poked him in between the eyes, while whispering conspiratorially,

"You know, 'arry, you've given all the Death Eaters quite the scare. Can I pretty please use that to make them cry and wet themselves?" Harry looked over to his father and got a small shake of his head in reply. Harry sighed and patted Bella's head, which was covered in wild dark brown curls.

"Sorry Aunt Bella. No can do," then he leaned in and whispered into her ear, AK green eyes bright, "but you can always torture them if you think they may try to hurt me. Just a precautionary measure, right?" Her pout turned gleeful again, her insanity glowing from her eyes, which were staring adoringly at the only child she's ever loved.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you!" Harry carefully pulled away from the embrace and nodded at both of the other Lestrange's, eventually stealing a hug from Rudolphus, since he and Harry had always been closer than Harry had been with Rabastian.

"Now that your greetings have been fulfilled, each of you should know something. For the next year Harry shall be on a mission, so your services won't be required. You'll continue with the jobs you had beforehand. Am I understood?" Each of Harry's teachers, and friends, fell to the floor and muttered reverently, "Yes, my Lord." and quickly left through apparation, but Bella gave Harry an extra wink before she left, letting him know their correspondence wouldn't end entirely.

Once they were alone, Harry made sure to show his father the smile he had always seemed to prefer, one which he never showed anyone else, besides Sebastian of course, and gave him a quick hug. Voldemort relaxed instantly at the smell of cinnamon, raspberries, and vanilla that was just purely Harry. Mid-hug, Voldemort apparated the both of them to the library, a special place for both of them, for that's where most of their bonding had happened, and each sat in their favorite armchairs, the same ones each had been in when they talked the first day Harry had started to live with at Slytherin Manor.

"So, what do you want to start with Ruby?" Harry asked honestly, cutting right to the chase.

In some ways, Voldemort couldn't help but notice, his son was a complete Gryffindor. At times he could lack all the finesse that you had to have to be a proper manipulator and was just so innocent that it hurt at times. That was one reason why he had been so hesitant to allow Harry on a mission. Anyone else would have had that innocence burned out of them the second they came in Voldemort's presence, but not his Harry. Since Harry was his, he could be however he wanted to be, for no matter what, nothing would happen to his boy. But this was only in his company of course and perhaps that friend of his, Sebastian. To anyone else, he was the perfect Slytherin, or more like the reincarnation of Tom Riddle.

At times, it surprised Voldemort how much Harry was like his younger self. It surprised him because he rarely talked about how he was in school, just that he had formed the Knights of Walpurgis and had come from an orphanage. Harry had actually been the first person to know since Dumbledore that he came from St. Wool's Orphanage, and only Harry knew he had been abused. While he had never been...touched like his Harry, which was something that still made him so angry that he couldn't even stand it, he had been beaten bloody and hated for the first 11 years of his life. He had also had to go through an exorcism, but not even Harry knew about that yet. There was only so much he could tell his 15 year old son, even if he was extremely mature for his age, just like Tom Riddle had been. Anyway, the boy could be just like his younger self when he wanted, something Voldemort was very proud of.

"Well, I thought we would begin with what your mission shall be." Harry's eyes brightened to an unimaginable degree and his bow-like mouth split into another smile.

"Oh thank you! I was worried you would take it back, but I'm ready. I want to help your cause father. You've given me so much. Now it's time for me to return the favor."

And that was another thing that worried Voldemort. To those his son was loyal to, he would do anything. He thanked Magic every day that he hadn't cursed his Harry. He knew that if the boy had survived, the world would have asked him to be their Chosen One, and since he would feel as if he owed the world, Voldemort had no doubt in his mind that Harry would have gone against him.

"You owe me nothing Harry. You've repaid me ten-fold already."

Harry shook his head slightly, wondering what his father meant. All Harry had done was be there and love his father. But Voldemort had done so much more.

"But that isn't the point. I promised you a mission, and that's what I'll give you." Harry lent forward in anticipation, a couple stray curls falling in his face but not caring at that point. Voldemort noticed though and thought, Those damned curls. And smiled.

"Harry, this year, I want you to gather information for me. Son, I want you to go to Hogwarts."

Duh Duh Duhhhh. I know, cliffie's are mean. :D At least it isn't too bad.

READ THIS PLEASE: I know I updated last chapter with a note asking whether or not you guy's cared if I changed Harry's name, but with how I did this chapter I don't think I'll change it period. I'll probably just make his last name Riddle into another language so Dumbledore isn't suspicious, so forget about that and don't be worried. :)

Oh, sorry that there was no Sebastian in this one. Next chapter you'll get a few flash backs in to his past, and how he feels about Harry. :) Also, sorry for those of you that wanted an extremely dark Harry and evil Voldemort. This chappie was a bit fluffy, but just so you know, Voldemort hasn't become a goody two shoes just because of Harry. The only person he's nice to is Harry. To all other's he's gonna be MEAN. Also, don't think Harry is also muffins and unicorns either. What with Harry's past, he's gonna be pretty bad, just not as bad as Voldemort or the Malicious Intentions Harry. He is innocent and oblivious when it comes to some things, but in others he's rather naughty. :) Okay, enough chatter! I truly hoped you liked and maybe I'll be able to update again soon. Please review and give me suggestions on what you want for this story. I can't guarantee I'll make them happen, but I don't have a complete plot made for this, like I do with Bloody Love and a Sad Destiny, so I need inspiration! Anywho, have a wonderful existence and toodles. :)