Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters nor the scenery which you could recognise, the only thing I take credit for is the plot.

Pairings: None for this chapter.

Warnings: DarkHarry, Dumbledore, Hermione and Weasley bashing (excluding Bill, Charlie, Fred and George).

Word Count: 6,957

Date Rewritten: 28/12/2020

A newly reborn Lord Voldemort is seated behind his desk in his personal study, the rebirthing ritual having been performed just a week prior. Instead of the recognizable 'snake-face' he had been during the last segment of the previous Wizarding war, the Dark lord had been reborn as a 32-year-old Tom Marvolo Riddle, now going by the name of Marvolo Slytherin as written on record with Gringotts's Goblins.

His face once again holds the sharp, distinct features of the Slytherin line, his hair falling in graceful curls framing his pale face with their ebony shine. His eyes, which are well known for their deep crimson colour are now a rich brown, small red flecks dancing in their depths. His tall, lean build is dressed in fine black acromantula silk robes, held securely over his broad shoulders by a pair of pure silver clasps adorned with two intertwining snakes.

Currently, he is in the company of his two most trusted and loyal Death Eaters; the only two he would consider to be his friends; Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy, who both had been entrusted with vital roles during the build up and preparation of the ancient ritual to restore himself.

Severus, due to his stature of the youngest Potions Master in the Wizarding World had been tasked with trying to extract the Elixir of Life from the Philosopher's Stone and creating the various potions which would allow Voldemort's soul to inhabit the newly formed body. As a reward for his dedication, efficiency and achievement he had given Severus permission to further dabble with the artefact to gage how it could be further used in the art of potions. His enthusiasm and gratefulness had been shown through the wide smile he had directed towards Marvolo.

Lucius, on the other hand, being known for his brilliance in both Ancient Runes and spell crafting was asked to write the runic symbols which would be needed both on the body and around the area in which the ritual was to take place to enable a quick and painless transition. He was eager to perform the spells through the duration of the ritual to the best of his abilities, excited for the return of his Lord.

Despite this monumental yet silent victory of the Dark Side, the moods which has befallen Lord Voldemort and his followers is a sombre one, for this night is the night in which Voldemort was to rescue his son and heir from the clutches of his Muggle summer dwelling.

Tonight, the Dark Lord would be reuniting with the small child who has already had such a significant impact on his life and the lives of those around him. He will rescue Harry Potter, supposed Saviour of the Wizarding World, the Boy-Who-Lived from a place which no child should ever be subjected to and all because of Albus Dumbledore cared more for his war, and his stature amongst his fellow wizards than the welfare of the children entrusted to his care.

Not Marvolo though. He had seen the hidden ambitions, the cunning and the bright spark of life which the young boy still had to give despite all he had been forced to live through. He remembered the strong, confident and yet snarky little wizard that had looked up at him without fear, despite knowing that the man in front of him had murdered his parents. Voldemort had felt immense pride in the young hero. He had watched angrily as the young child shrank into himself, his self-confidence all but diminishing in just a few short seconds at the mere thought of being sent back to that hellhole, his bright eyes shining with unshed tears.

That had been the start for Voldemort, the Dark Lord who had been known for his cold, heartless personality; his ruthless dedication to his cause was sickened as soon as he had learnt of Young Harry's home life, almost a mirror of his own. He had found a kindred spirit; a small helpless little boy who is so desperate for love and a kind, loving family of his own that he had been willing o do almost anything to get it.

His long thought to be dead heart had clenched painfully at the damage already done to such a gifted child, a small fraction by his own hand he is sad to admit. Yet most of the heartache had been done, whether intentionally or not, by the self-proclaimed Leader of the Light, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Yes, that had indeed been the start; Lord Voldemort had begun to feel again, emotions he had thought to be long dead had begun to resurface, the progress rapidly increasing with each soul piece he had reabsorbed before the ritual took place. He began to see the error of his previous actions, the extent of his insanity for the past two decades. A long since dead attraction had also made itself known.

He would continue with his war; with his goals of changing the wizarding world, of course, but this time he is going to destroy Dumbledore from the inside. Crushing the one thing he treasured more than anything else. His reputation.

He was going to fight for the rights of all magical creatures who had been wrongly and unfairly subjected to prejudice and discrimination implemented by the Light side; give assistance to all those who were shroud in poverty. To integrate Muggleborns and Muggle-raised children into the wizarding world at an earlier age, to give them an education and teach them of wizarding traditions and culture so that they may truly live within the Magical world.

For no matter what any wizard may say or think, whatever rumours had been spread about Lord Voldemort and his followers, Darkest wizards known in British Wizarding history, hated all forms of abuse be it magical creature or child whether it was abuse of power or not. All people, creature or not, Dark or Light, young or old were supposed to be cherished, loved and cared for as all had something to contribute to the strengthening of the country, all had something to offer and if current affairs continued as they were then magical Britain would cease to exist.

It had been the main thing he had hated about the Light; they didn't seem to care about the poor Muggleborn students who had been abandoned by their parents; left to fend for themselves. Nor the ones who were subjected to years of abuse, some not even returning to school after the summer holidays.

Now, Lord Voldemort sits silently in the company of Severus and Lucius, mentally going over the plans they had come up with one final time, ensuring that there was no room for error. Lucius was to keep watch over the muggles with Severus on standby to administer any healing spells and potions if Harry were to need them upon arrival. Something the Dark Lord would be highly likely. The Dark Lord would check the house for his son, though his worry is spiralling around the state that he would find the young boy in once they arrived at the muggle residence.

Narcissa Malfoy was also on alert, setting up her Healer's equipment in the room Marvolo had ordered the House Elves to set up for his son once they arrive back home; knowing that the young child would need to be fully checked over to find the extent of damage. As she was his most qualified Healer, having her Mastery in Healing, and trusted follower, she would be the one to administer and follow through with Harry's treatment in hopes of reversing all damage done at his relative's hands.

Finally, Draco Malfoy had agreed, or much rather demanded that his Father allow him to take up residence in Riddle Manor, eagerly awaiting the arrival of his friend. He had been set up in one of the guest rooms, close enough to Harry that if the young boy wished to have the company of someone his own age he was there or in case he should become bored and need his friend.

The Dark Lord is startled out of his whirling thoughts when a thin, yet comforting hand is cautiously placed upon his shoulder. Jolting upright, Voldemort glances around to meet the onyx eyes of Severus Snape whose shine with both worry and anxiety.

"My Lord, it is time."

Voldemort twists his wrist allowing his wand to drop into his hand from its holster on his arm and casts a quick tempus charm, bright red digits shine at him telling him that it is 8pm, indeed time to head off and collect his son. Excitement thrums through his veins as he pushes himself from his seat, sending a small nod and smile of thanks towards his Potions Master before motioning for the two to follow his out of the study so they could apparate to Privat Drive.

Upon arrival, Voldemort looks around the typically muggle area, sneering at the plain, boring, plebeian street laid out before him and his followers. Each house like the one before, no colour, no individuality is being portrayed in the least through the area, everything is almost a carbon copy of the space before. Gardens all rectangular and filled with small, coloured flowers; each car parked neatly in the driveway and all houses are of the same non-descripted brickwork and layout.

How could anyone stand to live in such a drab place?

Stepping out into the open street cautiously, keeping an eye out for any Muggles walking around, Severus leads the way towards Harry's relatives' house, number 4 which is just as plain, if not more so, that the houses before and after it. No one was about at such a late hour and so the wizards were at no real risk of being seen in their robes as they stroll purposefully towards their destination.

Stopping just short of the house' front garden, Lucius takes a step forward, lifting his wand into the air he proceeds to cast a multitude of complex detection charms, trying to sense and wards which would prevent them from entering the home.

"There are no such wards, My Lord. The type of blood wards Dumbledore used only work if the subject sees the residence as their home. Otherwise, they would stop anyone magical who has ill intentions towards Harry. Seen as neither occurs to us then we should be safe to cross without incident."

Lucius whispers, trying not to disturb the quiet surrounding them, bowing his head lowly out of respect he turns his head back towards the wards border, waving his wand once more before allowing a small smirk to tug at his lips.

"They are also incredibly weak, My Lord. Wandless and non-verbal magics of any kind will not be detected nor will they be able to track or trace any magical signatures to tell who had cast the spells."

Nodding his head in thanks, Lord Voldemort motions for Lucius and Severus to proceed him down the driveway, making their way up to the front door. Performing a quick non-verbal and wandless Alohomora on the front door, Severus walks into the house ensuring that his footsteps are as silent as possible, followed by Lucius and Voldemort. They make their way through the hallway each one holding their hand at the ready, peering around at the pristine house before catching a faint sound of a television coming from what they gather is the living room.

The Dark Lord takes stock of the plain picture frames lining the walls, noticing that each houses a pictures varying of the same three people; a large whale of a man; a tall thin, horse-like woman and a child much like his father. Though he is unsurprised at the lack of indication of another childing living here.

Casting another cursory glance around the rest of the downstairs area, Voldemort is sickened to find not a single thing out of place, the carpet had been freshly vacuumed, the windows polished to shine, and all artefacts were cleaned and dusted to perfection. Even the walls looked like they had been wiped down earlier that day.

Anger rises in the Dark Lord as he turns his attention to the already partially open doorway leading to the rest of the family, forgoing the kitchen as he knew it would only increase his ire. Shaking his head forlornly at what his son had to go through for so long, Voldemort starts to make his way towards the noise, calming slightly when he sees the answering rage and disgust deep within his followers' eyes.

His annoyance elevates when Marvolo pushes open the living room door, his eyes narrowing when he spies the family of three sitting on the sofa and in the armchair looking as if they were simply relaxing after eating their dinner. Which his son had been forced to cook no doubt. Shooting a wandless and non-verbal Bombarda towards the television set, allows himself to feel a small spark of satisfaction as the device blows up. Smirking at the undignified grunt, shriek of surprise reminding him of a dying banshee and one high-pitched scream.

Anticipating the unease which hr has no doubt installed in the muggles, Lord Voldemort casually strolls into the front room, knowing that he now has their undivided attention as he stands in front of the still smouldering muggle contraption, his wand in hand. Allowing his smirk to widen, his lips stretching at the wide-eyed expression he is receiving as he relishes in the fear, he catches flashing across their faces when he motions for Severus and Lucius to join him.

Their terror heightens when they see the two other men entering, both their wands pointing directly towards them as they take their position on either side of their Lord. The horse-face woman, Harry's maternal Aunt is pale, recognition lighting her eyes as they flicker between the men and their master rapidly. She wraps her arms around her whimpering son as best as she can.

While the larger man slowly turns an interesting shade of purple at the sight of these strangers, these freaks in his house; he glares at the three wizards. Though his expression only serves to amuse the dark wizards who let a smirk of defiance be shared between them. Leaping to his feet, the man, Harry's Uncle, waddles over to the Dark Lord, meaty hands clenching at his sides.

"What the hell do you think you are doing? I will have no mote of your kind in my house! Get Out!"

Spittle flies from the overly large muggle's mouth, disgusting the Dark Lord as he merely sneers down at the man in front of him, his eyes flashing red momentarily in his anger, throwing the whale off guard as his chubby face pales drastically as a sheen of sweat appears on his forehead. These wizards but unlike any he had seen or heard of before, he glances between the three, swallowing audibly.

"Now, now Mr Dursley, that is no way to treat your superiors, were you never taught any manners?"

Lucius drawls as he turns to face the muggle, his blonde hair framing his face, glowing in the moonlight which filters through the open curtains. He holds his head high exerting his usual Malfoy arrogance which leads Snape to inwardly roll his eyes, the blond reminds him all too much of the peacocks he loves to breed a little too much. Severus simply sneers at the family, his expression making them reel back in fright.

Mr Dursley splutters, his face scrunching up in anger as he momentarily forgets his fear in preparation to start another tirade back at the Malfoy patriarch. Before he can, however, a small hand on his arm prevents him from opening his mouth. Petunia Dursley shakes her head rapidly, glancing nervously at the imposing figures in her living room, eyes focusing on the red eyes of the Dark Lord before looking imploringly at her husband.

"Vernon, leave it. You don't know who these people are. What they are capable of and what they will do to us!"

His face, if possible, turns a darker shade of red verging on purple.

"I don't care who these freaks think they are; I will not have their kind in my house. It is bad enough that we were forced to keep one of them!"

At his words, Petunia shrinks back, edging away from her husband. Unnerved and terrified at the unadulterated anger which flashes in the eyes of the three men at the mention of Harry and in that moment she comes to the realisation that, for whatever reason, her Nephew is important to these men and she doesn't know or really care why. Looking back at the wizards in front of her, Petunia watches as their clocks hang tightly around their feet; watches as they each take a defensive position in front of the man with red eyes. Looking familiar to her, but not being quite able to figure out why.

"Vernon!"

Lord Voldemort smirks feeling highly amused at the woman's fear. Raising an eyebrow at her in warning; naturally she would have figured out who they were, even if she were a muggle. He was positive that Lily would have explained to her family about the Dark wizards and the outbreak of the first wizarding war whenever she was home for the holidays. He turns his full attention to the woman who is shaking with such force that he thinks she is in danger of falling over.

"Now then, I am the Dark Lord, Voldemort as you seem to already know."

He raises an eyebrow, waiting until the woman nods her head frantically before he continues.

"And I recently can across some sensitive information… information which informs me that you have been abusing a young wizard entrusted to your care. I would like to know why this young child has been mistreated and where he is."

Eyes flashing red once more, he watches as she glances at his followers before swallowing audibly facing him once more, she wraps her arms back around her whale of a son, not answering his questions.

"But we were told you were dead."

The disbelief in her voice is evident.

"Ah but as you can see Mrs Dursley, I am very much alive. – He says patronisingly as he gestures to his new form – Now tell me where the boy is!"

Voice growing in volume, Voldemort watches in amusement as the son jumps up off the sofa, diving behind it as if the piece of furniture would be enough to stop them from reaching him. Still neither adult speaks of the boy's location, rising the Dark Lord's temper further. As if sensing this, Severus steps forward, bowing his head towards his Lord he gestures to the Muggle family.

"If I may, My Lord?"

The Dark Lord nods his head, gesturing for Severus to continue as he looks on with intrigue, almost eagerly anticipating seeing his closest follower in action after so many years floating around as a spirit. He watches as Severus' eyes narrow on the horse-face lady an unnatural glint in his onyx eyes, making the Dark Lord's eyebrows rise in excitement as a shiver travels down his spine.

"I suggest you give the Dark Lord the information he wants, he is not a very patient man, 'Tunia."

Severus sneers her old childhood nickname with as much venom as he can manage, his eyes flashing with dark promises if she refuses to answer his questioning. He glares at her quivering form, her eyes widening in horror as her hand comes up to cover her mouth, eyes widening finally in recognition.

"You! You're… one of them! How could you… Lily… she… she trusted you… you went Dark!"

Snape smirks at the woman's obvious shock. Crossing his arms over his chest, he peers down at Petunia her sentences stuttering to a halt when she spies the look of pure hatred which shapes his features. Looking towards his master for permission, Severus grin frightfully when he receives a quick nod. Eyes darkening with malice, Severus slips his wand back into its holster, pointing his now free hand towards her cowering son.

"A Death Eater? Yes, I am, and we want to know where Mr Potter is. You know what we are capable of Petunia and I. Will. Not. Hesitate."

He snarls at the woman who watches his hand with trepidation, pushing herself as far back into the fabric of the sofa as she possibly can, trying to put as much space between herself and the intimidating Dark Wizard hoping he would spare her.

She stares fearfully at Severus, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she watches his fingers flexing towards her son. Knowing that she is going to have to give them what they wanted to know soon if she wants to spare herself but she feels her throat constricting as terror floods her veins at the thought of what they would do to her family once they found the true extent of their treatment of the boy. She startles when her son lets out an ear-piercing scream. Turning to glance down at her child she is horrified to see him withering on the floor in immense pain, tears streaming down his face.

Feeling more terrified than she has ever felt in her life, Petunia whips around. Shivering when she sees her sister's childhood friend smiling vindictively as he twists his right hand cutting off whatever spell he had cast as he smirks down at the twitching boy on the floor. Vernon, who had been silently fuming tries his hardest to lecture the wizards but a quick sticking charm and silencing spell from Lucius has the large man glued to the seat of his armchair and wordlessly ranting.

Bringing a trembling hand to her mouth, tears threatening to fall from her own eyes, Petunia's gaze flickers from the three wizards to her little boy cowering on the floor, his muscles still occasionally twitching with the aftermath and back again.

"What did you do?"

Snape lowers his hand momentarily, looking at the woman he knew as a child in disgust, sneering as he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Nothing much. Just a small torture curse…"

Gulping, Petunia hears the veiled threat in his words, the promise of more to come if she keeps up her silence much longer. Shame faced; she looks down at her hands clenching the material of her dress lying across her lap as she mumbles.

"He's upstairs, the boy is upstairs. – just don't hurt my Dudley."

"Why should we not? You seem perfectly happy with condoning all forms of child abuse, why is your son any different? From what I have witnessed from young Harry's memories, your son is less innocent than Harry and therefore is more deserving of the actions you took against your Nephew!"

Lucius' smirk widens at the horrified looks on the adults faces, clearly, they had not expected them to have already known about the extent of their treatment against their young Nephew the entire time. In response to his Lord's words, Severus turns towards the man bowing his head in respect as Voldemort smiles gently at the dour man, pleased with the results thus far.

"Thank you, Severus you have done well. Both of you stay here and watch the Muggles, I will go and find Harry."

Turning swiftly on his heels, the Dark Lord pauses in the doorway, glancing regally over his shoulder as he smiles maliciously.

"Feel free to have some fun as well."

Grinning at the Muggles, all three, looking horrified at the implication behind his words as he sweeps out of the room, robes billowing out behind him as he walks up the narrow staircase in quick succession. His worry for Harry increasing with each step. Mere moments later, Voldemort reaches the top of the stairs, looking around he gasps in both horror and disgust upon spying the door which can lead to nowhere other than his son's room. His magic flares violently alerting the people downstairs that he is highly displeased, Petunia flinches in response.

One of the doors at the end of the hall is shut tight, five locking keeping whomever inside from leaving and Voldemort had a sinking feeling, knowing who he would find behind the heavily guarded door. Looking down his anger only increases, raw power escaping his grasp as he spots the cat flap installed in the bottom of the door, indicating that food had been slipped through.

Slowly edging his way towards the locked door, Voldemort tries to reign his magic back in hoping to not startle and scare the small boy, if he is still conscious, as he performs one more wandless, non-verbal Alohomora. Pushing the door open carefully, his eyes widen at the sight before him, his anger returning in full force.

Young Harry Potter is lying in the middle of the floor unconscious, just as he had feared. His t-shirt, which Voldemort could see had been several sizes too big for the small child, lying in tatters over a severely bloodied torso. Bruises of every shape, size and stage of healing litter the much too small frame. His right wrist is being held protectively against his chest while his other seems to be holding his ribs; his face, which is covered in cuts and small trails of blood, looking as if his glasses had shattered, is scrunched up in pain. A lump forming at the back of his crown indicating to a possible concussion as well. Overall, his son is in an extremely bad way and it was all that old coot's fault, if he hadn't of forced this young, innocent child back here, if he had just listened to Harry, then this wouldn't have happened.

After surveying the room, Lord Voldemort rushes in, kneeling directly next to his prone son, brushing a cautious hand through the matted hair, drawing it away from his pale, sweat covered face before placing a soft kiss to the child's forehead. Resting there for a few seconds, Voldemort breathes deeply.

"I am so sorry my Little Snakelet."

Harry's eyelids flicker, shifting closer to the warm comforting form he can sense close to him as he mumbles softly.

"Father…"

"I'm here, Snakelet. Father is here for you; we are going to get you out of here and make you all better and you are never going to have to see these filthy Muggles again. I am here, my Son. You are safe, you are going to be okay."

Quickly taking off his outer robes, the Dark Lord carefully wraps it around his injured child; being mindful of the multitude of whip lacerations scattering across Harry's chest and back. He gently picks Harry up watching for any signs of discomfort from his son as his eyes scan the shredded pieces of what he assumes are photos around the floor and the bloodied leather belt. Taking a shuddering breathe, Voldemort smiles softly at the way Harry subconsciously cuddles closer to his chest as he lets out a content sigh. Securing his grip on Harry, the Dark Lord proceeds to gather and shrink all of the small child's possessions, placing them into his pockets for safe keeping. Cautiously making his way back out of the prison room, and descending the stairs, he smirks at the tell-tale sounds and whimpering's of the tortured.

"Severus, I need you to administer those emergency potions, NOW!"

The barked order draws everyone's attention to the recently arrived Dark Lord who heads straight towards the sofa, sending his most deadly glare towards the muggles who are still twitching, whimpering and crying on the floor, most likely due to bouts of the cruciatus. He places Harry down gently, opening up the robes to showcase the extent of damage done to his child earning a collective gasp from his followers and surprisingly enough from the Muggle female.

Severus rushes over, his face slipping into his usual Slytherin mask, rolling up his sleeves as he drags his hand slowly over the prone form casting as many diagnostic scans on Harry as he knows ensuring that he catches every injury and ailment. His eyes widen as his expression falls into a concerned grimace much like that of his master.

"He has a fractured right wrist, two broken ribs, one completely shattered and three more fractured, a mild concussion which is bound to give him some difficulty when he wakes up. His left ankle also seems to be fractured, his left shoulder has been dislocated and will need to be forced back into place. His back, chest, upper arms and thighs are covered… in what appear to be… whip marks made… made by a… a belt… He also has small slivers of glass stuck in the cuts on his face."

Looking away from the child, Severus closes his eyes tightly willing to stop the tears from falling as they gather in the corners of his eyes, shaking his head he tries to bring his Occlumency shields up in order to properly heal Harry.

The Dark Lord immediately feels sympathetic towards his Potions Master, knowing that the dour man had too suffered through this type of abuse, and knew all too well of the pains which Harry is now suffering. He watches in silence as Severus begins to administer multiple potions to his son, spelling their content straight into the boy's stomach, his face unnaturally pale. Blood replenishing potions, followed by skele-grow partnered with pain relief potions, infection prevention potions, cleansing agents all being given to the severely injured child, healing the more life-threatening damage first. He follows these up with as many healing spells as he is capable of casting windlessly, trying to seal the lashes on Harry's back as best as he can until they can bring the boy to Narcissa.

Throughout the entire process, Voldemort refuses to let go of the young child's hand, brushing the pad of his thumb gently across the boy's knuckles, all the while whispering reassuring words in his ear despite his uncertainty as to whether he could be heard or not. Never once moving his gaze away from the much too pale paler of his son, not even when a reassuring hand is placed on his shoulder, no doubt from Lucius. Though the kind gesture wakes him from his numbed stupor.

"Lucius?"

His voice is not raised, it is low, deep and has a subtle hiss to it which makes shivers runs down the spines of everyone in the room, some for highly different reasons than others.

"Show these filthy Muggles what happens when they harm the Son of the Dark Lord!"

His voice croaks, hoarse from the overloading emotions he can feel running through his mind, still holding exponential power as he ignores the surprised gasps around the room. Lucius bows his head a malicious smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he turns towards the Muggles.

"With pleasure, My Lord."

He mutters quietly before turning his attention once more on the cowering muggles, the female shooting terrified looks between her Nephew and the Dark Lord.

"Son?"

"Yes, the Dark Lord's son and heir. Our Lord took quite a liking to young Mister Potter at the end of his academic year and upon finding out about his home life, both from your Nephew's words and memories, decided that it was in Harry's best interest if he were to take him in as his own. Though due to extenuating circumstances, he was unable to collect Mister Potter directly and was forced to leave him in your care until he was able to come for him. But you, you are despicable excuses of beings, even for Muggles. You have hurt the son of our master, our Lord, our friend and we do not take kindly to anyone laying a finger on our Dark Prince!"

His hand shoots out, sending a powerful crucio towards the three Muggles, smirking at the sight of them whimpering and twisting around the floor like the low-life, insignificant creatures they were. The silencing spell he had put up moments prior to his speech working to its full effect, making sure that no one would hear anything and report it to the muggle police.

"You see, Our Lord became rather fond of Harry almost as soon as he came into contact with him and when this disconcerting news came to light, he immediately offered the choice of adoption to Harry who happily agreed. Our Lord wanted to make sure that he would never be subjected to your deplorable treatment ever again."

This time a bone shattering curse flies towards each Dursley with deadly precision. Vernon hisses, clutching his right knee as Petunia cries out in pain and cradles her left forearm to her chest, neither parents caring much when their son screams as his hand flies to his ribs, each one sniffling as tears stream down their faces from the pain.

"I am disgusted at how you dared to treat a magically blessed child. I could very well take this up with our Ministry of Magic. Did you know that the neglect and abuse of a magical child is one of the worse crimes you can commit in the eyes of our laws? Resulting in a lifetime stay in Azkaban."

Finally, Lucius flicks a sectumsempra at the withering creatures, aiming so that they were each sporting a bright red slash down their chest and arms as they shake, both in fright and from the aftereffects of Lucius's torture.

Severus, having just finished healing Harry as much as he is capable of, places a hand of support on Voldemort's shoulder, surprised warmth filling his chest when his master quickly brings his free hand up to grip the thin hand tightly. Gripping on for support and in thanks for the work the Potions Master had accomplished for his little boy.

Knowing that they couldn't allow for the Muggles to remain in their current state in case Dumbledore or someone from the Order came to check up on the boy during the summer; Severus and Lucius advance on the Muggle family, stunning them as they slowly begin to heal their most severe injuries. Closing wounds and healing bones, they work meticulously, making sure that the three would still feel some of the pain for the next couple of days. They cast a few, more interesting, yet undetectable spells on the family, once of which would inflict whatever injuries they had caused their young Nephew/Cousin, since he had lived with them, to feel upon themselves. They would feel the starvation, the loneliness and all the emotional turmoil Harry had felt living with them.

In the end, they obliviate the family, replacing their memories with new ones, memories of how they had beaten Harry so severely that he had run away, escaped from his room and disappeared but with the injuries he had endured he was most likely dead in a ditch somewhere.

Making sure that everything is left how they found it, Lord Voldemort orders Severus to find Harry's school trunk and supplies which he had noticed had been missing from Harry's 'room'. Wrapping the small child back up in his cloak, Marvolo carefully picks him up, cradling him protectively in his arms. He places another soft kiss to the child's forehead as he guides his followers back to Riddle Manor.

Upon arrival at his ancestral home, Marvolo heads straight for the Heir's bedroom; startling Narcissa out of her worried thoughts at their sudden, almost frantic, appearance. She jumps out of her chair, beginning to unload an array of potions from her healing kit, calling Severus over to help her.

Lord Voldemort ignored the commotion going on around him as he makes a beeline for the large king-sized bed, unwrapping the robes once more, he hears Narcissa gasp as she turns, setting her sights on the true extent on the young child's injuries. Her eyes fill with tears, knowing that Severus had already healed him to the best of his abilities, as she quickly begins to cast spell after spell, banishing his oversized rags or what is left of them, leaving Harry just in his underwear.

Clearing her throat of the lump forming, she quickly calls for a House Elf, ordering it to bring her a bowl of warm soapy water which arrives just seconds later.

"I need someone to wash the blood and dirt from his body while I perform an in-depth diagnostics spell."

Marvolo grabs the bowl before anyone else has chance to move or speak, he proceeds to gently wipe the dried blood, grim and dirt from Harry's still form. Meanwhile, the rooms other occupants stare at their Master, exchanging glances between themselves as the Dark Lord sits calmly, cleaning his small son.

"You didn't expect me to just sit her and do nothing while my son lies here gravely injured, did you?"

With a soft smile, Narcissa points her wand steadily at the young wizard, waving it over his head and watching his unconscious form as a piece of parchment and quill appear by her side; growing larger and longer with each passing second as it records all of the boys injuries from the start of November 1981 to the present.

Usually for a wizarding child of eleven the parchment would be expected to be around two feet long, including every injury and illness the child had suffered from throughout their lives, but Harry's continues to grow until it is just short of six feet in length. Worried, Narcissa quickly grabs hold of the parchment, ignoring the curious glances of the males in the room she begins to skin through, reading from the bottom where he was born, expecting what she found of minor colds and rashes.

However, as here eyes scan up the page, her eyes widen as her face pales, more tears drip silently from her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. Since the age of two, Harry had received numerous broken bones, severe illnesses which had never been properly treated, several cuts and bruises, too many for even a naturally clumsy child to receive. The thing which horrified her the most is the recent addition of whip slashes and lacerations covering the expanse of Harry's chest and back.

Looking mournfully down at the child on the bed, she can clearly see the signs of malnourishment and starvation without having to read it along with the obvious concussion Harry is suffering form. His ribs predominant, as are his hip bones and collarbones, he is much too small for a child of eleven, soon to be twelve, but all of that should be, thankfully, mitigated by strong nutrient potions. Heaving a sigh, she passes the parchment over to a waiting Marvolo, covering up her surprise when he calls Severus to him to read over his shoulder.

Finishing the long list, Voldemort's eyes flash red as he passes the parchment over to Lucius as he, almost without noticing, leans back into Severus who places his hand on the man's weary shoulder, offering his support and comfort as Marvolo reaches up to take hold of hand while his other once more grips his son's limp appendage. Both men oblivious to the knowing smiles being exchanged between the Malfoy Lord and Lady.

The room lapses into a deafening silence as Narcissa returns to her work, moving her wand mechanically in complicated sequences; healing cuts first, followed by broken bones and damaged organs. Reluctantly ordering Severus away from their Lord so he can spell specific potions into the boy's stomach as it would be much too difficult to try and make Harry drink them in his current state. While he complies, the resident healer goes about rebreaking and resetting bones which had not healed correctly.

Looking at the multitude of bruises littering Harry's form, her gaze flickers to the Dark Lord who sits unmoving next to his child, occasionally running a hand gently through the dark raven locks, she breaths a deep sigh. Routing through her healer's kit, she pulls out a container, handing it to Lord Voldemort who takes it curiously.

"A bruise salve, My Lord."

Silently nodding, the Dark Lord carefully begins to rub the salve onto the child's skin, a frown shaping his features at the sheer number of bruises he finds marring his son's body. Many tension filled minutes later, Narcissa finally finishes flittering around her patient.

"I have done all I can for him, My Lord. By the times he wakes up in the morning his physical injuries should be completely healed. However, he may still feel sore and shouldn't move around too much. He will need to be put on strong nutrition potions for a couple of weeks before he gains enough weight. I will give a list of other potions he will need to take for his health to reach its correct level for his age."

Nodding his thanks towards the Malfoy matriarch, he waves his hand to dismiss them, watching in silence as Lucius and Narcissa bow to him before vacating his son's room. Turning to face Severus, who hesitates a moment before heading towards the door with a short bow.

"I will head to the lab so I can start brewing Harry's potions, My Lord. I will be back as quickly as possible if you permit it."

"Of course, Severus. Thank you, my friend."

With that Severus almost runs out of the room, his cheeks flushing and his heart fluttering in his chest wanting to sit with Marvolo and Harry as the young boy recovers from his injuries.