Harry Potter and the Serpent's Rebellion

Disclaimer: Harry Potter=not mine

Summary: What is the reason behind Harry's uncanny resemblance to Tom Riddle? Dark secrets about his heritage are about to be uncovered…

Author Notes: I'm having so much fun with these alliterations!

Chapter six: Risky Rescues

The Dark Lord was currently in a contemplative mood. He was being unusually pensive. Although he would not admit it to even his most trusted death eaters, Voldemort was in a huge dither. He did not know what to do with his son.

The boy had proven that he indeed had power. According to Wormtail, Harry Potter had produced a corporeal patronus at the age of thirteen. He had also killed a basilisk at the age of twelve, and fought off a hoard of death eaters at the age of fourteen. Not to mention outwitting Voldemort himself at eleven years of age. Yes, this boy could prove to be a powerful ally. Voldemort smiled, imagining ruling the world with his son at his side.

Yet, this boy could also prove to be a formidable foe.

Harry had long ago proven that he had chosen the light. Knowing the sorting hat's methods, Voldemort knew that it had offered the boy a choice. And he had chosen Gryffindor. If the boy wanted to go against his father, he would have to be killed. Voldemort had no qualms about killing his own flesh and blood. Had he not, as a mere teenager, single-handedly killed his father and grandparents?

However, Harry was quite clannish. He defended his dead mother and adoptive father fiercely, as anyone who was foolish enough to insult them found out to their cost. Hmm…perhaps the boy was persuadable.

Then, to end his musings, a large snowy owl came to perch on the back of his chair, a letter tied to her leg. Always paranoid, Voldemort tried to detect any traces of curses and jinxes on the letter, finding none, he took the letter from the unknown owl.

Dear Honoured and Most Respected father,

It has recently come to my attention that I am not an orphan as I had thought. I had always dreamed of having a family, and I had always hated you because I thought you had killed my parents. Now that I know the truth, I would be honoured if you would accept me as a son. I know that I have seemed to oppose you in the past, but I am finally aware of Dumbledore's manipulations. I know that you will respect for who I am, and not merely as a tool for the war.

I also realize that with Salazar Slytherin's honoured blood flowing through my veins, it is indeed my duty to purge the world of mudbloods and muggle scum. It would be my dearest wish to do this with my father at my side. Although I regret choosing Gryffindor at my sorting, Gryffindor could also provide brave and resourceful death eaters who could be of use to you. If I have your permission, I will try to recruit many from the house of the lion. I have already set up a band of the students who are completely loyal to me. I am sure you will not underestimate the valuable assets I could provide.

If you are interested in my offer of kinship, please send one of your servants to bring me to your exalted presence. I will be waiting at the Leaky Cauldron on the twelfth of August at two o'clock.

Anxiously awaiting your response,

Harry Riddle

The dark lord laughed gleefully. O, that fool Dumbledore had no idea what he was in for. None at all.

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At one thirty on August the twelfth, Harry was sitting at a corner table in the Leaky Cauldron, sipping a bottle of butterbeer.

Fifteen minutes later, a figure clad in dark robes entered the pub. His face was overshadowed, giving him a sinister, dementor-like look.

"Mr. Riddle, I presume?" he asked, approaching Harry. Nodding, he followed the man out into the dead end outside Diagon alley.

"Take this," the man instructed, holding out a shoebox. Feeling a familiar jerk to his navel, Harry was transported away with the man at his side.

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Lord Voldemort was waiting again. O, how he hated to wait. But even impatience could not curb the good mood he was in. His son was coming to join him today. He was so distracted that he did not even bother to have Snape tortured today. Voldemort decided to leave that honour for his son. He had always heard how cruel the potions master was towards Harry Potter. No doubt Harry would be glad at this opportunity for revenge.

'Thump' Two figures toppled over each other in their haste to stand up. The taller of the two bowed and kissed the hem of the dark lord's robes. "My lord, I have fetched the boy."

"Go on then, Rabastan, your presence is no longer needed," Voldemort snapped. He did punish the man, as was his style. He needed the boy to trust him.

Speaking of the boy, his son was currently kneeling at his feet with his head bowed. "Father, It is such an honour to see you again, hopefully under better circumstances." Harry hoped his voice sounded respectful and sincere.

"Rise, my son. There is no need for you to show servitude. You have the noble blood of Slytherin flowing through your veins. Take pride in your heritage, my boy." Voldemort looked closely at Harry. The boy's looks had indeed changed. In fact, he looked like the splitting image of a sixteen year old Tom Riddle. Sensing his gaze, Harry looked up to meet his eyes. Good. He could see no deceit in his son.

"It was wise of you to come to your true father, Harry. The power I could offer you is endless. I will indeed value you for your valuable qualities, not just as a pawn for the war."

Harry could see the blatant lie Voldemort fed to him. When had the man started to care for family, he scoffed silently. Outwardly, he displayed nothing but worshipping gratitude. "Thank you, my Lord. I would be honoured to join your ranks. I have yet much to learn."

"Your may call me father. Am I not you only real family left?" Voldemort smiled benevolently. "What sort of spells do you wish to learn?"

Perfect, Harry thought. "I wish to learn the Unforgivables, Father," he requested. "I find those are very useful in battle." 

"Ah, I was quite eager to learn them myself when I was your age, Harry," Voldemort admitted, then smiled wickedly. "I think I have the perfect candidate for you to practice on."

Harry faked a look of ignorance. "I don't think I'm familiar with any of your prisoners, father."

"You are familiar with this one. He happens to be your potions master. I am told that he was always cruel to you. You can think of this as…revenge," Voldemort replied.

"Really? I always wished I could crucio the greasy git. I wish to learn that curse first, as I had failed it at the ministry of magic," Harry said gleefully.

"I will be sure to keep Snape reserved for your lessons, then. We can't have him going insane or dying on us when we want him to practice with, can we? Consider this a belated birthday present from your father."

"Thank you, father, I am most grateful." Harry bowed. Inside, he was cheering in triumph. Stage one: success.

A/N: Took a while to post, but I was quite busy these past few days, with my friend's sixteenth birthday. Hope you like it, and review!