Notes This idea just came up in my head and I thought it was funny, so I decided to write it down. I love everything about the books, this is just a silly game of thoughts, of how things would be if Voldemort decided to not kill Harry, but raise him instead. Hope you enjoy it!

PS For people who follow Gemma Goes to Hogwarts, don't worry, I'll still work on that one too.

Disclaimer I wish I could say otherwise, but I didn't write Harry Potter - JK Rowling did. Therefore, she owns everything

The boy Who Lived

These were dark times. Lord Voldemort, who also went by the name of You-Know-Who, was the darkest wizard the Magical World had known for a long time and people would just crawl together whenever they heard his name or thought about him. Amongst those people, a few of them were brave enough to start a fight against the Dark Lord. They called themselves the Order of the Phoenix and were led by the only wizard that could compete with Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore.

Voldemort hated the whole Order, who kept delaying his world domination. Luckily for him, he had spies everywhere and so he also infiltrated this particular organisation.

Because of certain information provided by one of these spies he was on his way to the house of the Potters, two extreme nosey parkers that hid away and now tried to fight him from their specially protected house. Voldemort had no patience for people who acted all though but who, by the first faint alarm, immediately fled away to an almost untraceable fort. There was no sport in that, it was not at all how an open and fair fight should be.

But now he had found them, and he would have no mercy tonight. It was just one of the reasons why he decided to come himself this time. Another reason was that there were very few things in life that Voldemort did enjoy as much as killing other human beings.

He walked into their street, and just before their house he held still. Before he would blast out the door and kill the manly persons in the building, Voldemort took a little moment to watch the people whose life he was about to end. Clearly the Potters had no idea that he was not longer excluded from their concealment. The man, whose name Voldemort had forgotten for that moment, was sitting on the ground, laughing and playing with the little boy. The woman, the beautiful Lily, took a sip out of a glass of red wine and looked happily at the two most important men in her life. It seemed an sickening homely scene. Voldemort grinned and took out his wand. The next second the door was gone and he heard screaming and running.

'Take Harry! Take Harry and go!' he heard a mans voice yell. At the same moment Voldemort saw the man entering the hall, standing between Voldemort and the stairs, on which a cloud of red hair just disappeared. Voldemort immediately noticed that the man didn't have a wand and laughed hysterically. This was followed by a green light and the man fell down, with his face to the ceiling. Voldemort took a moment to take the face in. James, the man was called, he remembered. He nodded at the dead body. Voldemort had always had a respect for bravery. Soon however, he made his way up the stairs. He had to kill the child. The child! Not the woman, he had made a promise...

The woman however refused to move, so in the end there wasn't much left to do but to kill her too. This didn't give Voldemort the same joy though as he had felt when he had killed the man. He hated to break his promises. With some guilt in his heart he now finally pointed his wand at the child. It was a kid of merely a year old. His wand pointed to the head of this child and suddenly Voldemort found himself looking at his own hand, that was shaking in an oddly manner. Again he looked at the child, and found himself shaken to his very soul.

His arm felt down his body. He couldn't do this. The child had laughed at the green lights and was still clapping his hands together. A new feeling came upon Voldemort. Children hadn't been a part of his life since he had left the orphanage and suddenly it felt like he had missed out on something. Maybe it would be a good thing to not kill this child but to raise it as his pupil, as someone who he could pass down his knowledge to. Someone who like the green lights as much as he did himself.

Surely, if he could make the child love him such an unstable prophecy wouldn't come to pass. Lots of them didn't. It depended on how you handled their substance, and Voldemort would just take this child as his own. He and the kid would be like father and son. The boy clearly liked him, he was holding out his arms to him. Voldemort felt strangely moved, but he didn't pick up the child just yet. He pointed his wand at the child again started on an extremely complicated spell. First, with the most care and without harming the child, he made a scar that looked like lightening on his forehead. Second, he made just the same mark on his own skin, just above the one that connected him to the members of his club.

'Luckily I am a great wizard' Voldemort told the boy before he began on the third and most difficult spell, the one that connected him and the boy through the two light bolts. He touched his bolt and smiled when he saw the boy touching his head. The kid smiled back at him and Voldemort wanted to finally go over and pick him up, but suddenly he heard footsteps on the stairs. As fast as the lightening that was on his arm now he stepped away from the child and flew out of the window. He flew, for the Dark Lord was indeed a great wizard.

Hanging in the air he made a plan for what to do next. Most likely this visitor was that awful Dumbledore, or it might have been his friend Snape to collect Lily. Dumbledore, that old senile, would come however, and most likely take the child to let it be raised with his nearest family. All he had to do now was wait to see what would happen. From above, Voldemort saw Snape leaving the house and Hagrid, that big giant, entering it. The huge motor he had arrived on, stayed outside, still leaving out smoke. Voldemort sniffed horrified. He hated everything that was a violation on nature. De gigantic man came out the house again holding a small package, and for a moment Voldemort had to take a deep breath to stop himself from sending a green light down. He soon controlled himself however and followed the flying motorbike.

Finally they stopped in a little village called Little Whinging. Even from where he was hanging he could already heard voices that sounded familiar and he landed on the roof to listen. From the conversation that took place between that imbecile of a Dumbledore, Hagrid and that person McGonagall he found out that the world thought that the boy killed him, Voldemort, the Dark Lord. Voldemort couldn't help but laughing, but luckily he did it quiet enough so no one heard. Apparently he and that woman had a fight over leaving the boy with his aunt and uncle, who sounded horrible to him. He completely agreed with McGonagall on that one. Of course Dumbly won the argument and after he stammered a few more words he and the other two left.

Voldemort came down from the roof and easily opened the door. He finally took up the boy, who was a sleep with a letter between his tiny hands. Voldemort opened the letter and had a glance at it. The writing was full of lovely words and mostly directed at the aunt, who was called Petunia apparently. He took the boy and the letter to the spotless kitchen and left it at the table. The boy he kept in his arms.

Ridiculous, he was supposed to be dead for not even an hour and that fool Dumbledore already let this boy lying around on someone's doorstep without any protection. What if one of his friends would want to take immediate revenge on this child? The mans believes in the goodness of humankind was maddening. It was a good thing he was there to protect the boy from now on.

Voldemort carefully putted the little boy down in the box that presumably belonged to the fat kid in the pictures and went upstairs to kill its family. Three green lights was all that was needed to save the earth from this trio. He transported their bodies with a swipe of his wand to Albania and sent a message in parseltongue to his pet snake to let her know that he had moved. After that, there was not much more he could to than to take up the boy to the cradle of his now dead cousin and put a blanket over him. Voldemort himself set down in a chair next to the child, with a good view on his lightening bolt.

In the serenity of the room, Voldemort had time to think about what had happened tonight. Something had changed, although he could not quite put a finger on it yet. He thought about something Dumbly had said tonight, and had to admit that maybe the fool might have been partly right. Something had brought him down this evening, although not in the way Dumbledore had meant. This little fellow brought up a caring in him Voldemort had never known before. He didn't care that much for world domination anymore, at least not all alone. Maybe it was because he felt that this child held the same joys and dreams as he had himself. A better student, a more worthy partner than he could ever have wished for. If he could muster the patience to wait until the boy was a little older, they might run the world together. With these happy thoughts, Voldemort left the room to let the boy sleep peacefully.

It was the beginning of a dramatic change in the life of Harry Potter.