A/N: I'm not too pleased with this chapter, but hopefully it'll do.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters or places.

Chapter 2

It had been dark outside that day, and it had just started to rain. It was really going to start pouring outside in a short amount of time and I was in my room, keeping out of the Dursleys' way. I may have been the Dark Lord's son, but only Dumbledore and myself had known that at that point, Dumbledore not even knowing that I knew, and it wasn't a fact I wanted out at that point before I wasn't given another reason to change sides, one that people could not blame me for. It was a short of sick sense of justice, but it worked for me. I didn't want them to blame me for switching sides, but for them to realise it was their fault for pushing me away.

I knew the mudblood would most probably abandon me once she found out. Almost all of Gryffindor would, most likely. I think the only person that wouldn't have betrayed me would be Ron, but he was dead, so there was no chance. The Hufflepuffs, too, would turn against me. They may be loyal, but they would not stand for the Dark Lord's only child and heir, they would not stand for my betrayal. The Ravenclaws I was not too sure about. Either they would be smart enough to look at the evidence without bias to see that there was a chance thast I hadn't changed after finding out who my father was, or they would not. The Slytherins, though, would befriend me instantly, for fear of angering my father, unless my father wouldn't have acknowledged me as his son.

I cannot say I could blame my father, had he not accepted me as his only son. In truth, though several years have passes since then to now, as I recount my tale to you, I still cannot fully believe that he did.

But he did, and it all started on that rainy July afternoon when I was in my room in Privet Drive, staring blankly at a random page in one of my old school books, thinking. It would have been obvious to anyone who took the liberty of watching me at that moment that I wasn't actually reading the book. My eyes weren't moving across the page was one dead give away. Another, to anyone who actually knows me, even if they only know the front I put on for others, which was the only me that anyone actually knew then, was the fact I was trying to appear as though I was trying to appear as though I was reading on of my second year Defence Against the Dark Arts books, Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart, which are nothing but well-researched, badly-written fiction that uses the letter 'i' more than the rest of the alphabet put together (and I'm probably underestimating that right now). And I rarely read fiction, regardless of how well or badly written it is.

The things I was thinking about were silly, insignificant things, such as Quidditch. I still missed it slightly at that point, though I don't anymore. I suppose I have Umbridge to thank for that. Thanking Umbridge - now there's something I never thought I would be doing, much less when it was about my Quidditch ban, but I was thanking her nonetheless.

The ban, too, is something I used to think would be lifted at the start of my sixth year, after all, they had realised that old Toady was mentally unstable, so the majority of the laws in which she had had passed whilst she was still the minister's senior assistant would be abolished due to this little fact. But they weren't, and my ban wasn't lifted.

All of Gryffindor, besides myself (I had already realised how pointless it was trying to protest against it, since there was nothing to be done) and the very small minority of Gryffindors, who, like myself, would have been better suited the Slytherin that Gryffindor, had kicked up a fuss, but to no avail. The ban stayed and they only quietened down about it after McGonagall threatened them with detention for all of them. It was an empty threat, of course (there's no way any professor, even all of them combine would be able to give detention to almost an entire house), but it worked.

Now I realise why I loved Quidditch the way that I did. It wasn't the sport at all, but just the excuse of being able to get away from the ground and into the freedom that being airborne gives you. It is truly the best feeling in the world, and one you cannot fully feel through any muggle device, so unless you are a wizard or witch and you are reading this (which I somehow doubt will be true), you won't know the fully glory of early morning flying, the spectacular dives and loops and speeds you can get on a broom, but believe me, it is an amazing feeling that I will always love. But none of this is important at the moment, as, again, I have gotten off track.

The tenth of July nineteen ninety six, that was they day. Wonderful day, in my opinion, though I can't exactly say the same about the rest of the world. It couldn't have been better. Well, besides the whole getting stunned in the place I had considered my home up until the start of that summer. Other than that, though it was great.

I suppose you're wondering how I got stunned in my own 'home', when I had Dumbledore's wards protecting me. Well, it's simple really. The wards only protected me at Privet Drive under a few conditions. I was only protected if I was inside the house (like I ever actually was inside apart from at night and occasionally for meals), and considered the place as my home. Which I didn't. Plus the ward sonly protected me from those who mean harm. The person who stunned me didn't mean me any harm, but just needed to get me out of the house.

But back to the story.

Like I said before I kept getting distracted by my own thoughts, I was in my room at the Dursley's, staring at a random page in Break with a Banshee (about page 257, I think), thinking about really insignificant things such as Quidditch on the tenth of July, nineteen ninety six. It was dark outside, and it was going to start pouring at any minute. There were even a few flashes of lightning and the sound of thunder a distance away, but that's enough about the weather. I think it's about time I actually got onto what happened. I've been putting that off for a little while.

As I've said (twice so far, maybe I should go for a record... no, it would take too long and would mean become distracted again) I was sitting in the smallest bedroom of number four (I rarely ever referred to it as my room, due to all of Dudley's junk that was still in there when it had been Dudley's second bedroom, back when I had the cupboard under the stairs to live in), thinking, when someone burst in. Next thing I knew someone yelled 'Stupefy' and I lost consciousness, stunned.

Have you ever been stunned? No - I don't suppose you have. Well, you probably know what it feels like when you know you are going to be sick. You can tell in the very pit of the stomach of it, and it's a feeling that only goes once you have emptied your stomach. When you get stunned it feels like that, only you don't throw up, and the feeling worsens slightly before you surroundings start to fade and go black. All of this happens in the space of less than half a second, and most people forget about this feeling, but it is there. I will always remember it, simply because of how annoying it is.

"My Lord, are you sure about this?"

It was the first voice I heard after I regained consciousness from the stunner, something in itself is supposedly unheard of as far as I knew, and I instantly knew the voice to be that of a Death Eater, the one that stunned me and father of my ex-rival. It was the voice of Lucius Malfoy.

"Are you questioning me, Lucius?"

My father's voice. I would know it anywhere. And by the sound of it he was slightly mad, though, strangely, no pain in my scar.

"N-no, My Lord."

This almost brought a smile to my lips. Lucius Malfoy stuttering, showing obvious fear. But the smile never got to my face. The two of them thought I was still unconscious, and I was not going tell them otherwise. The thought was still amusing though. The great proud Lucius Malfoy showing fear. I wish I could have taken a photo at that point. It would have made my day.

"Good. Now leave."

That was an order if I had ever heard one. Lucius seemed to hurry to obey, and I could hear his rushed footsteps, each quieter than the last as he got further and further away. He really seemed scared of my father for some reason. I wonder why.

There were a few moments of silence before I heard my father start to talk again.

"I know you're awake, Harry."

"So?" I mumbled. I still didn't open my eyes, but I could tell that my father would have a smirk on his face. People can be so predictable at times, especially when they are happy or amused.

"What's wrong?" he asked me, in an extremely patronising voice, like people tend to use when talking to little kids, or, if they're drunk then anyone who isn't drunk or isn't old enough to drink legally. "Don't tell me you're upset about being a guest in my little home."

I sat up and glared at him then. I hate being talked down to. I always have, though I have recently started getting little pieces of revenge for people that did so to me. It was nothing serious, only a few harmless pranks or spells, nothing too bad. So long as you're not on the receiving end. Most of the older Slytherins, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs (not quite the whole school, as the professors didn't seem to learn that little lesson) learnt that during my time at Hogwarts.

"What the hell do you want Tom?" I asked annoyed. Who wouldn't when they're being talked down to? I have always been able to stand it when people talk about me as if I am not there, but when they talk to me as if I am nothing but a child then it crosses the line with me.

"I want," he said, a smirk on his face, obviously enjoying the fact that he had me riled up, though it wasn't as large as it would have been, thanks to my little reference to his proper name. "To tell you some very important news."

My father paused for a moment or two, possibly waiting for me to say something, which I did not, before carrying on, breaking whatever 'big news' he had to give me.

"I am your father."

I sat there and stared at him for a moment, as if I couldn't believe what he had just told me. Then I spoke, keeping my voice as calm as I could, my expression neutral.

"Let me get this straight… You have had me stunned and kidnapped just to break some news to me, which I have known for weeks?"

A/N: Okay, this chapter is like 700 words shorter than the last, but it's still pretty long for me, especially considering I've only just started aiming for 2000 words per chapter, instead of 1000, like I did before. Okay, onto my review responses.

HecateDeMort: Lol, thanks.

Vegita43: I know, I love them too! But did ya have to go and put the whole idea for another Harry/Bella fic in my head?!

Dark Miroku: Thanks! I plan to go into the whole first kill thing either next chapter or the one after.

Aberforth Dumbledore: Don't worry. Whilst I love to read slash (I gladly admit I am a slashaholic) I won't even attempt to write it. I have enough trouble with het!

The Vampire Story Hunter: ::whimpers:: Scary reviewer! I just had to write this! And I choose option one.

Crystalstorm21: Thanks!

Aspid: Um, I take it you like fics where Harry is found to be Voldemort's son then? I'm not quite sure who he killed yet.. I think I'll leave that for you reviewers to decide… And the world will know about his parentage soon enough.

Kungzoune: I will!

DOG-SEJR: I intend to!

Ranchan17: Hey! Are you saying my fics aren't long enough or dark enough for you?! Well, I agree.

Andromeda Snape-Malfoy: Okay!

Ryua Malfoy: It was creepy? I don' think anyone's ever called my work creepy before. But thanks!

Okay, quick poll. Who should Harry's first kill be? Remember, Ron, Draco and Filch are dead, so they're out of the running, though I may go into more detail about their deaths later.