They can't keep a good man down

Always keep a smile when they want me to frowns

Keep the vibes and they stood my grounds

They will never ever take my crown

~ Crown – Jay-Z

Chapter 1: The Heir of the Dark Lord

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

Pathetic. He thought. Didn't they know they couldn't escape him now that he has found them? Voldemort always gets his man. Always. And to make it even easier, the imbecile didn't even have a wand in his hand. Hold him off? Without a wand? No wonder their secret keeper was Wormtail—they were complete idiots. He laughed at the man, holding up his wand and preparing to say the two fatal words.

"Avada Kedavra!"

He said it as casually as he walked inside the house. The bright green light filled up the hallway, leaving the man dead on the ground. His next target was the woman, who no doubt would be protecting the child. His footsteps were light and quick, he had no time to folly around. This kill depended on his life, his reign of power—all he had to do was kill the child and it was over. Her screams and cries helped him locate the room. He smiled as he heard her attempts to barricade the door. Did she really think she could keep him out? He forced the door open with a swift flick of his wand, spewing chairs and boxes across the room. And there she was—standing there, no wand, the child buried in her arms. He stared at the boy. He had black hair, the same black hair as the man lying dead downstairs and he had green eyes, the same as the woman standing in front of him. Voldemort became intrigued that the boy wasn't crying- as if he was unaware of what was going on. He seemed unafraid of the wizard standing before him and his mother—and it irritated Voldemort to no end. Didn't the child know he was in danger? Didn't he know that Lord Voldemort had come to kill him and his family, as he had done so many before in the past? He regained his focus as the mother put the child in his crib and held up her arms, as if to shield him from Voldemort's view. He held up his wand, warning the woman to stand out of the way, but she would not budge.

"Stand aside, you silly girl." He hissed. "Stand aside, now."

The woman shook her head and held her hands out even wider. "Not Harry, please not Harry, take me, kill me instead—"

"This is my last warning—" He was growing impatient.

"Not Harry! Please ….have mercy…have mercy…have mercy…Not Harry! Not Harry! Please—I'll do anything-"

He was on the verge of killing her when he heard her words. Anything? He didn't lower his wand, but his gaze returned back to the small boy in the crib. He stared into his green eyes, and something sparked in his mind. A thought—no a vision. He steadied himself, trying to focus on the woman and the child before him, but eventually gave in.

The black silhouette of a man raising his wand to a child. The spell is cast but the child does not die. The man was now weak—he had to hide himself—no one could see his weakness. So he hides in the child—and the child must've seen him because his green eyes grew wider. And then nothing. Nothing but a lightning bolt scar on the child's forehead.

Voldemort blinked a few times, trying to understand what he had just seen. Green eyes? He looked back to the small boy in the crib—he had the same green eyes. The woman was still standing in front of him—Voldemort realized he still had his wand in his hand. He pushed the vision to the back of his mind.

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!" He shouted. She still refused to move, so he did what must be done. He killed her. And even then the small boy did not cry, even as his mother laid lifeless beside his crib. Voldemort walked closer, stepping over the body of the now dead woman. He aimed his wand at the small boy, relishing in the fact that he was this close to immortality. He laughed at the fact that the prophecy claimed this small boy would be able to defeat the most powerful wizard of all time. All he had to do was say the words, and it was over. He would be unstoppable. Voldemort raised his wand higher but-

The boy will destroy you if you try to kill him.

He gritted his teeth at the voice in his head. But he stopped to listen. Could it be true? The vision had shown what could possibly happen if he killed the boy, but what if it was a trick. Something Dumbledore created to stall him longer, or to make him change his mind? But what if it wasn't, and he lost all his power to this child in front of him? Voldemort lowered his wand, playing out his options. If he left the boy, there was no doubt Dumbledore and the rest of the Order would come for him. And if they came for him, they would teach him about the prophecy, and they would train him to fight alongside the Order. Voldemort became furious with his thoughts—none of them prevented the boy of learning of the prophecy.

What if you take the boy? The small voice said.

Voldemort replayed the words in his head and suddenly everything became clear. Take the boy. He looked down at the small child in front of him. He was now standing up, his small hands resting on the bars of the crib. He looked at Voldemort and became intrigued in the figure before him. Voldemort smiled, already thinking of the plans and possibilities for the small boy in the future. The small boy smiled as well, reaching his hands out for Voldemort to take him. The Dark Lord carefully lifted the child and disapparated on the spot.

/

"You know Voldemort has taken the boy! Yet you are unwilling to act."

"Severus."

"Padfoot has confirmed that James and….and Lily… are both dead in Godric's Hallow!"

"SEVERUS!"

Snape stopped his rant at the sound of Dumbledore's voice. He was standing before the remaining order inside of the house of Black. The news had spread quickly of the Potters' deaths—Sirius alerted everyone immediately before disappearing to find Pettigrew. It surprised everyone that Voldemort took Harry—it made them even more worried that he didn't kill him right away. What was Voldemort's plan? Snape, however, did not care for Voldemort's plan—he was set on rescuing the boy before Voldemort could even make plans, or even worse, kill the boy himself. For some reason, he felt it as if the boy was his responsibility—it was the least he could do for her.

"We are small in numbers, Severus." Dumbledore said calmly. He sat at the end of the table, his moon-shaped spectacles on the brim of his nose. "If we charge into Voldemort's defenses now, we are risking the sake of the Order as well as the boy's life."

"Then, let me go and retrieve the boy." Snape said desperately. "I don't care about the consequences, as along as the boy ends up in the right hands."

"No. We cannot give up your cover yet, Severus."

"But—"

"If Voldemort took him, he took him for a reason. I don't believe he will kill him, Severus. Otherwise, he would have done it at Godric's Hallow."

Snape didn't say anything else, all of this was too much for him to handle. The love of his life and the man who swore to protect her was dead. Their son had been taken by the Dark Lord, and here was Dumbledore allowing the child to stay in his possession. Had the world gone mental? His focus was redirected as Arthur Weasley burst through the kitchen doors. His hair was unrulier as usual and he looked as if he ran here. Snape rolled his eyes at Arthur's state.

"What now?" He snapped.

"It's Sirius….he's be taken to Azkaban,disapperated" Arthur said between breaths. "Aurors said he….killed Pettigrew…along with twelve muggles."

The others at the table gasped at Arthur's news, and Snape rolled his eyes again. Of course Black got himself in trouble with the Ministry. Another thing to add to the list of things going wrong tonight. However, Dumbledore made no reaction to the news. "Are you sure, Arthur?"

"Yes, he just went through Ministry clearance." Arthur confirmed.

Dumbledore nodded. He stood up, dismissing the meeting.

"Where are you going?" Snape snapped at the man as he grabbed his baby-blue robes.

"To pay an old friend a visit." Dumbledore then turned to Arthur. "Return to the ministry, make sure Sirius makes it safely to Azkaban." He then turned to the rest of the Order. "From this day forward, Harry Potter is dead. Any information released to the public may comprise the boy's life.

Arthur nodded. Dumbledore exited the house of black and disapparated. Snape's jaw clenched as he stared at the remaining members of the order. No one had moved from the table when Dumbledore dismissed the meeting. Everyone was grief stricken from the loss of their two beloved members. Snape banged his fist on the table, infuriated the fact that they had no ideas—no plans—nothing that could save Lily's son. He then grabbed his cloaked and pushed passed Arthur, disapparating from 12 Grimmauld Place as well.

/

Voldemort reappeared at the LeStrange's Manor, where the house elves were waiting for him. The manor was perfect to take refuge—Bellatrix was in Azkaban and Roldolphus was dead. Nobody would look for him here. He glided through the doors, saying nothing to any of the house elves, but they reacted immediately to the small child cradled in his arms. As Voldemort walked upstairs, he heard the house elves preparing the nursery. He looked down at the small boy, who had fallen asleep during the apperation. The boy looked exactly like his father, except he had his mother's eyes. His appearance meant nothing to the way Voldemort would raise him. They would never know this was Lily and James Potter's son. He would be the heir to the Dark Lord—he would have the ideals of a Death Eater embedded in him, trained to destroy people like his parents with no mercy. And when the time came, he would take Voldemort's place and continue his reign throughout the wizarding world.

Voldemort entered the nursery. The room wasn't decorated as the nursery from Godric's Hallow, but it would do at the moment. He would ask Lucius and Narcissa to contribute to the child's needs, seeing that they had their own heir on the way. He walked to the black wooden crib in the middle of the room, carefully placing the small boy inside. Voldemort stood there for a few moments before turning around and exiting the room. He went across the hall to the LeStrange's study, where he sat in a chair in front of the fireplace. He stared out the window—recollecting his past actions and the vision that came to him at Godric's Hallow. It was odd that the vision came right at the moment where he was about to kill the small child. One more second and it would've been too late, and he would have been facing the possible fate shown before him. There was a reason the vision came to him, and he could only be grateful for it.

He hadn't been sitting long when he felt the heat from the fireplace touch his neck. Someone had found his location. Seeing that he had told all of the Death Eaters to go home and evade Ministry forces, he slipped a hand into his robes, retrieving his wand. After a few seconds, he realized the person was not here to harm him, he laughed tiredly once realizing who was behind him.

"Albus." He said calmly.

"Tom." Dumbledore returned his tone. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Not intentionally." Voldemort gestured to a chair beside him. "Please sit. It would be rude of me to allow you to stand there."

Voldemort didn't see Dumbledore's reaction but heard his footsteps getting closer until he reached the chair beside him and sat down. They sat in silence for a while, watching his mark take over the scenery of the clouds. Voldemort watched as the snake gracefully slithered out of the skull until it evaporated into smoke, only to do it again. Dumbledore seemed to be watching it as well, entranced in the magic Voldemort had been able to produce from a single tattoo.

"I didn't kill the boy." Voldemort finally broke the silence.

"I know."

"It wasn't for you." Voldemort said precisely. "It was for your prudent heroes who may believe otherwise. And just so you know, I do not plan to return the boy."

Dumbledore nodded. "I expected as such. I've had already told my forces that we will not strike against you for the sake of the boy's life."

"Yet, you have come here."

"I don't expect you lay out your plans for the boy to me, Tom. But you do not have the patience to teach the boy." Dumbledore turned to face Voldemort. "He may be easy to teach in his younger years, but as he grows older—the traits of his true parents will come to surface. It will become harder to train him."

Voldemort pondered Dumbledore's words. "What do you impose I do?"

"Let him attend Hogwarts."

Voldemort laughed.

"He will be able to learn the basics, gain allies for your cause as he grows older. You have already taken his parents, Tom. Don't take his childhood as well."

Voldemort turned to Dumbledore, his face unreadable. He thought through Dumbledore's reasoning. He agreed it will be difficult to train the boy once he becomes older—but allowing him to attend Hogwarts? This could be a trick for Dumbledore to teach him his true heritage. But as a parental figure, Voldemort knew the boy deserve to have a decent childhood. The boy needed people skills, to be able to apply his training to real life situations, he need his studies to expand his knowledge—Voldemort needed the boy to know the school inside and out. Just in case he needed to get inside. He finally nodded.

"I will allow the boy to attend Hogwarts, under two conditions."

"And those conditions are?"

"First," Voldemort began. "you or any of your forces may not contact the boy until he arrives at Hogwarts."

"And the second?"

"While the boy is at Hogwarts, no one- teacher, student, or staff- may reveal the boy's true heritage to him."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, before adjusting his spectacles. "Consider it done." He held out a hand for Voldemort to shake, but he refused to shake it. Dumbledore laughed and stood up.

"Sometimes Tom, I forget you are no longer that young boy I met in the orphanage. How times have changed."

Voldemort said nothing. Dumbledore walked back to the fireplace, and by the returning heat brushing against Voldemort's neck, he knew the old man had left. Voldemort rose from his seat, seeing that he had many things to do before the child woke up. He grabbed his black cloak and stood in the fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo powder. He instructed the house elves to watch over the boy and to notify him when he woke. After his message was delivered, he mumbled the words to his location and disappeared in a band of flames.

My Second Attempt at a Fanfiction Story! I hope you all enjoy. Please Follow, Fav, and Review.

~TheeStoryTeller