Discalimer- I don't own Harry Potter, Jk Rowling does...
Riddle Manor [April 1987]
It was dark outside, but instead of reducing the haunting beauty of Riddle Manor, the dark shadows caused it to become even more cruelly breathtaking. On the outside, Riddle Manor had a certain dark aura that repelled anyone that came near it. The lawns were perfectly manicured, and the deep violet flowers were expertly tended. The fountains that lined the paths outside were flowing with shimmery silver liquid. There were black as night gnarled trees scattered on the lawns. The inside of the mansion was just as elegant as the outside. The floors were of the finest black marble, and the walls were covered with expensive green and silver wallpaper. The halls of Riddle Manor were lined with priceless artifacts so rare, that even one little knickknacks could buy a small mansion. Harry stared, wide-eyed at all the portraits, smiling slightly as they turned their gazes upon the strange boy. There hadn't been a single child to step foot in Riddle Manor since the Master of the house himself. Lord Voldemort watched Harry's reaction with hidden puzzlement. It was as if the boy hadn't seen anything like this before.
"Who are you?" A dark-haired man in a portrait asked. The man was very elegant, his robes immaculate, and his hair neatly combed. His eyes, however were most startling. They were piercing blue, harsh and as cold as ice.
"My name is Harry Potter." Harry announced, proudly.
"You kidnapped the son of the Light couple? Tom, this is a new low. You shouldn't have to resort to such tactics just to murder someone. It may be getting difficult, I understand. But you must either get rid of the child, or return it. It is a disgrace in this dark manor." The portrait hissed in parseltongue.
Voldemort glared at the man in the portrait. Clenching his teeth together, he said in a dangerously low voice, "I suggest you keep your comments to yourself. I am the master of this manor, and I can do whatever I want."
"I am no longer their son." Harry spit out, hatefully speaking in parseltongue. The dark-haired man in the portrait looked surprised, as he looked back and forth between Voldemort and the little boy.
"He is a speaker?!"
"You have ears. Use them." Harry said chided.
"But you are a boy of the Light. And you speak parseltongue?! How is this possible?" The man asked, confused.
"Maybe because he never was part of the Light Side, Abarax." Voldemort said. He continued to walk farther down the hall, and his strides were so large, Harry had to almost run to keep up. Harry stared at everything in the room, continuing to look at everything with awe.
"Why are there no pictures of you?" He asked, after hesitating slightly.
Lord Voldemort sneered at the boy. "I don't believe in such things."
"But" Harry paused, "Pictures are memories! You must have them in a home."
"I said I don't need them, brat."
Harry frowned, "Friends don't call each other brats."
"I am your new guardian, I can call you whatever I want." Voldemort hissed in parseltongue.
"You can call me Harry. That's what most people call me." Harry offered.
Lord Voldemort curled his lip. Harry Potter. Just the name made him want to roll his eyes. It was so plain, and not worthy of someone as powerful as the child in front of him.
"Come brat, we must proceed with the adoption ceremony before anyone figures out that I have taken you." Voldemort changed the subject smoothly.
"Then we can take all the time we need, since no one cares for me anymore, they will not come looking." Harry said, sadly.
Voldemort gazed at the boy with heavily concealed pity. When he looked at Harry, he saw something inside of him. Something that reminded Voldemort of himself. They both had the same broken, lonely childhood. His face hardened, and Voldemort decided this child would never be raised like he was. Harry Potter would be treated like the powerful wizard he was, and when his training was complete, Voldemort sneered, no one would be able to touch him.
"What do I have to do?" Harry asked, staring at the silver bowl Voldemort has just conjured.
Voldemort snapped out of his thoughts and said, "I'll perform the ritual myself, but I am going to need some of your blood." he said, handing a dagger to Harry. It was a beautiful dagger, the hilt was made of intricately carved snakes wrapped around each other.
Harry admired at the dagger for a minute, dragging his small finger along the blade. He clasped the dagger in his hands, and didn't even wince as he slashed the blade on his palm. The dark crimson began to pool around the cut, and Harry stared at it, captivated.
"Put a couple drops in here."
Voldemort handed Harry the bowl, and Harry took it, sucking in a sharp breath at the now bloodstained side. He squeezed his hand into a fist, letting the drops of blood drop into the bowl. The drops dripped down his fingers and left a burgundy trail as they fell into the silver bowl.
Lord Voldemort watched Harry with utter fascination. The boy had made a deep cut on his palm, and did not even flinch. He noted how Harry seemed compelled by the dark liquid. He hid back a wicked smile at the irony; a child of the Light, intrigued by blood. How bemusing.
Voldemort gingerly grasped Harry's palm, whispering a couple of words and waving his hands over Harry's. Harry's hand glowed slightly, before the cut began to disappear.
Lord Voldemort whispered a couple of spells, and then swiftly cut his own palm, dripping the blood into the bowl. The blood sizzled and fused together with Harry's blood in an array of sparks. Harry watched as his to-be guardian poured a vial of clear liquid into the silver bowl. Voldemort whispered another spell and turned to Harry.
"You will need a new name, so people will not recognize you."
"What's wrong with Harry?"
"It's too..." Voldemort sneered, " Muggle."
Harry frowned, but sighed, accepting his defeat.
"Cerberus?"
Harry looked disgusted, "You want to name me after a three-headed dog?"
"What about Mortificus?"
"No," Harry scowled.
"Well, your last name will have to be Riddle." Voldemort said, already growing annoyed.
"Alright. I have no problem with that." Harry agreed.
"Tenebris?"
"No!" Harry snapped, "These names are all weird! Can't you chose a normal one?"
Voldemort's eyes flashed, and he gritted his teeth together before suggesting, "Hadrian?"
Harry opened his mouth, ready to object, but reconsidered. Voldemort seemed as if he was ready to 'crucio' Harry if he dared to object.
"Your middle name will be Draven. No objections." Voldemort stated, although there was a slight threatening undertone.
"So my full name will be, Hadrian Draven Riddle?" Harry said, somewhat enjoying his new name.
"Yes. It sounds much more regal than that horrid name your previous guardians gave you. Does it not?"
"Hadrian Draven Riddle." Harry repeated, slowly enunciating each word.
"Shall we move on?" Voldemort questioned smoothly.
Harry nodded. Voldemort conjured up a crystal glass and poured a small amount of liquid into it. He handed Harry the glass.
"This is very ancient magic. The ritual will not work if you are forced to do this, or if you do not want to do this. Remember. You have to want this." Voldemort reminded Harry before the glass touched his lips.
Harry examined and sniffed the liquid in the glass. He swirled it around, and checked to see if there was any difference. He put his ear up to the cup, as if trying to hear if the liquid would make a sound.
Voldemort glared, "Quit stalling and drink it."
Harry shrugged, and brought the crystal glass up to his lips. He made a dramatic show of closing his eyes and plugging his nose, before chugging the liquid down.
"Did it work?" Harry asked eagerly.
Voldemort scrutinized him, from head to toe, shaking his head slightly. "Not yet."
"How did it taste?" Voldemort asked.
Harry sighed, "Like home."
"That's not even a real flavor."
Harry started to argue, but his eyes began to widen. He started gasping for air and his mouth dropped open. Harry's arms hung loose at the sides, and soon his legs began to wobble. He toppled forward, smashing onto the cold floor below. Harry gazed up at Lord Voldemort, his eyes full of pain.
"Well, I think its working now." Voldemort commentated, smirking slightly.
Harry tried to say something, but the only thing he could do was rasp small words out.
He tried to keep his eyes open, but they closed automatically, and Harry's entire body went limp.
Somewhere in Hogwarts
The book of Future Hogwarts Students glowed a bright golden color, and flashed. It opened itself, since the heavy browning pages were enchanted to flip themselves. The book was a swirl of pages as it flipped rapidly, one after another. Thousands of pages of names went by, and many months and years flipped past as well. The book came to a stop on a certain page, and there was clearly one name that stood out past the others. There was one change to a certain name, and it clearly meant something.
Peters, Nathan
Peterson, Emily
Peterson, Andrews
Potter, Alexander
Potter, Harry [ NO LONGER AVAILABLE] (Line Crossed through)
Pottem, Jesse
Pottest, Macy
Possui, Jason
