One month later
Voldemort sat at his desk, rubbing his forehead in frustration. The stack of forms that his secretary had just dropped off wasn't getting any smaller, no matter how much he cursed it under his breath. When the clock chimed twice, he was actually glad that he had an appointment.
Miss Stern immediately poked her head around the door, forgetting to knock as usual. "Mr. Malfoy is waiting in the silver room, would you like me to bring him here?" Of course Lucius was in the silver room, he'd probably been sitting there for ten minutes already, the man was always early.
Voldemort shook his head. "That won't be necessary, I'll go to him. I need a break from my office."
"Lucius," the Dark Lord said in greeting as he stepped through the doorway into the silver room. He walked straight past the man and headed to his liquor cabinet in the far corner.
The room was so named due to the silver tapestries hanging over the walls and ceiling. A large, brown leather sofa and two brown leather straight-backed chairs sat in the middle, a completely average square coffee table placed between them.
"My Lord," Lucius replied with a stately bow. The blonde wizard's lips twitched in amusement. "Rough day, My Lord?"
Voldemort rolled his eyes and motioned for the man to take a seat in one of the chairs while he sat in the other. "You don't know the half of it," he sighed as he stared wistfully into the glass of whiskey he'd just poured.
Now Lucius was beginning to look truly concerned. "If there is a problem, please let me know My Lord, and I will do my best to take care of it."
"Of course you would Lucius," the Dark Lord drawled in a bored tone. "But there are no problems everything's progressing just as it should."
Lucius gave him a confused look. "I apologize my Lord, but I don't quite understand. Are you trying to tell me that the reason you are so despondent lately is due to the fact that there are no problems?"
Voldemort spun the glass in his hand. "Astute as always my friend," he replied. "I feel somewhat disappointed with the ease of my victory over the wizarding world. Yes, I still have hopes for more, but from here on out, all of the fighting I shall do will be political in nature. I have an army to fight my battles, while I sit in my office and fill out forms." He downed the whiskey in one gulp and slammed the glass down on the coffee table. A wave of his wand and the glass was full once more.
It embarrassed him to put on such a display in front of one of his followers, but if it had to be anyone, he was glad it was Lucius. The blonde had always been his most loyal and levelheaded follower.
"This is what I envisioned, but not what I truly wanted," he explained and was glad when a look of understanding passed over the other man's face. "I feel as if I am a child on Christmas morning. All of the presents have been opened and now I feel only disappointment that the excitement is over and done. Don't you see Lucius, for one such as I, it is not the crown or the glory of victory, but the blood and the battle."
"I am not like you," he candidly admitted to his servant. "I cannot find satisfaction in being king."
Lucius gave him a questioning look. "What would satisfy you my Lord?"
"A new challenge," Voldemort stated, "I will be leaving in a month to see to the child's training. I'm putting you in charge of the day-to-day operations. If there are any major problems you may contact me at my castle."
"My Lord," gasped Lucius, "thank you for finding me worthy of such an honor. I swear I will not disappoint."
Voldemort nodded, his expression showing his relief. "I know you will not and that is why I chose you." He sipped his whiskey and stared at his self-portrait hanging above the mantle. "It is time I returned to the shadows my friend," he raised his glass toward the image of himself, "That is where I am at my finest."
One month later
"Harry, be careful. I don't want you falling off that broom and getting dirty."
Harry nodded forcefully and made another tight turn on his new broom. He wondered what had Miss Fallow so out of sorts. All day she'd been shouting at him to stay clean and not get dirty, even made him put on his nicest robes. Not that Harry minded putting on his nice robes. His nice robes were black with little silver snakes slithering around the bottom and, best of all; they were exactly the same as the ones Voldemort wore in the picture on the mantle.
"Harry, did you hear me?"
"Yes, Miss Fallow," he shouted back while performing a few rolls.
"I said be careful!" She exclaimed. "I don't want you getting hurt."
"I am being careful," Harry assured her, deciding to keep the broom straight and steady so he wouldn't get in trouble.
He laid down flat against the broom handle and traced his fingers over the gold letters that spelled out his name. "Harry Potter," he whispered softly, a frown forming on his small lips. The name was so average and boring, not like his Lord. Voldemort, there was a name for a great wizard.
Sometimes Harry had daydreams that his last name was Voldemort and he was Voldemort's son. He knew it couldn't be true though, because Miss Fallow had told him that his parents were bad and been killed by the Dark Lord, but a boy could dream. He let out a loud sigh and did another roll. Miss Fallow gasped and he immediately straightened up.
"I'm sorry Miss Fallow, I'll be more careful," he assured, turning his head to look at her. But her eyes weren't on him; they were staring off toward the front gate, a gate that hadn't been opened since the night the Dark Lord Voldemort brought him to live in the castle. "Miss Fallow…" His voice trailed off as his eyes followed her gaze.
A dark cloaked figure stood just on the other side of the fence, his hood pulled back. It was a man, Harry could see, a man with dark hair and bright crimson eyes. Harry's jaw dropped as the man opened the gate and stepped forward. Only one wizard existed with those eyes.
"It's him, Miss Fallow!" Harry exclaimed, flying quickly to the matron.
The woman ignored the small child and instantly fell to one knee as Voldemort approached. Harry quickly got off his broom and followed her lead, deciding it was the best bet since Miss Fallow'd never told him what to do when their Master finally returned home. He intently stared down at the man's black shoes, trying his hardest not to fidget.
A cool, pale finger suddenly snaked under his chin, pulling upward and causing him to look into his Master's bright crimson eyes. The Dark Lord's expression was stern, but one corner of his mouth was turned up slightly in amusement.
"Never kneel Harry Potter, not to me, not to anyone," Voldemort commanded sternly and Harry felt a shiver run through his entire body. He continued to pull Harry's chin upward until the boy was standing straight. "I wish you to be loyal, but you are not a pet, nor a servant."
Harry cocked his head to one side, feeling confused. "Then what am I?"
A grin formed on the Dark Lord's lips as he looked directly into the boy's eyes. "Let us retire to the dining room for supper," he commanded, ignoring Harry's question and turning toward Miss Fallow.
"Of course my Lord," she replied, rising from the ground to stand straight.
Then, much to everyone's surprise, Voldemort reached down and scooped Harry up from the ground. Miss Fallow's jaw dropped before she moved inside to see to dinner. Little Harry was confused by the whole display. He hung loosely in the man's arms before hesitantly wrapping his small legs around the man's middle. Only Miss Fallow had held him so close.
This was different then when his nanny held him. This was a thousand times more different. Harry could feel his Lord's magic thrumming underneath the man's skin and everywhere they touched was hot, like being to close to a stove or a fire. It wasn't a bad kind of hot though. No, it was a good kind, like snuggling under warm blankets on a cold night.
"My Lord," he breathed out against the man's neck, completely enraptured.
Voldemort patted him softly on the back and carried him inside. He'd already decided that he would not raise Harry up to be another Dark Lord. The little boy in his arms would know emotions that the young Tom Riddle had never known as a child. It would not only serve to make young Harry a more powerful and balanced wizard, but it would also make sure that the boy remained attached to him and completely loyal.
It was an experiment really, he decided while setting Harry down in the highchair next to the dinner table. Voldemort took a seat across from the boy and studied the child for a moment. Here before him was a magically powerful creature which he could mold and form. Harry didn't truly exist, since Voldemort had yet to create the boy. This would be a challenge, he commented internally. Harry looked up at him and smiled, green eyes full of awe and wonder.