Disclaimer I don't own Harry Potter. I do own any original characters (and there are a lot) as well as this plot.
Chapter One
ON CONTINUING THE BLOODLINE
ON CONTINUING THE BLOODLINE:
"It is every proud pureblood's responsibility to produce a pureblood heir and continue their bloodline. It should be done with care though. You don't want to look at your progeny and think, 'This is not going to work out.' Because, chances are – you're right."
- Lord Voldemort
There came a time in Voldemort's reign of terror that he began to become concerned about the continuation of the Slytherin line. Even if he was immortal due to all his forays into dark magic, there was still the fact that it might be useful having an heir. Perhaps as a controlled and loyal second-in-command, a faithful follower that could handle a few tasks in governing and maintaining a dark empire.
And being a Dark Lord was tough work.
Sure. It didn't look like it was on first glance. Most people were under the impression that Dark Lords did nothing all day but plot evil plots, kill people who they wanted to kill, torture people who they wanted (or needed, but the line between the two often blurred – as found by a study by the prestigious Deducis-Hareton Institute of Research and realized by most dark wizards in general anyway through just plain practical usage) to torture, laugh maniacally, throw the occasional enraged fit, order people around, display his extraordinary brilliance and cleverness, rant angrily about annoying 'goody-two-shoes' enemies, deal with idiot minions, deal with the idiot Ministry of Magic and its idiot Aurors, deal with the idiot Order of the Phoenix, and maybe get in some illicit dark reading squeezed in there if some idiot didn't decided to bother him.
He was lucky to get basic scheming in his schedule. And that's what he enjoyed the most – along with the murder of his enemies, but on a daily basis, scheming was his favorite activity. And finances! Voldemort was an incredibly brilliant individual. He couldn't have gotten this far if he wasn't. But he hated working with numbers. There was no doubt that he could do the basic things needed, it was just that it irritated him immensely. He would rather be reading a good book than trying to balance the cost of waging a full-scale wizarding revolution/killing spree. For the most part, he left all this to Lucius Malfoy – it gave the blonde man something to do other than argue with Bellatrix Lestrange.
Another person to lend a hand around the metaphorical home would be nice.
Thus, Voldemort made a decision. He would have an heir. So, he sent out various agents around the country to look for potential women to bear his child. His preference would be that the woman be magically powerful, intelligent, had some nerve in her, as well as be decently good-looking. Which, in Voldemort's mind, wasn't too much to ask for, really.
…Not to mention had a somewhat sane and stable mind. After witnessing Bella's eyes light up when he dispensed the news to his so-called 'Inner Circle' (…or, in his mind, the people that pissed him off the least and probably had the most gray matter between their ears when it came down to it), it became part of the list as well. It did make things difficult though – none of the female Death Eaters really applied, then.
Surprisingly, it was that cowering oaf Peter Pettigrew that provided the perfect mother for his unholy child. When Pettigrew approached him with an offer to spy on Albus Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix (or, as he privately thought, the Order of the Incessant Gnats, because that's what he thought of them), he brought along the unconscious body of his best friend's cousin. Elizabeth Alexandra Marlowe's mother was the sister of Simon Potter, the father of that annoying James Potter. She had taken refuge from the war in the Netherlands due to the deaths of two siblings before Wormtail had abducted her. After Wormtail related his "harrowing" tale of daring to procure the perfect specimen for a mother, Voldemort dispatched Mulciber and another person (he didn't care who) immediately to clean up the mess left behind. A mess that included fingerprints and traces of identifiable magic.
Truthfully, she filled all the requirements. Though Voldemort was more partial to blondes than brunettes, she was okay in the looks department. No stunner (damn!), but okay. She was a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts and showed high aptitudes in Transfiguration and Arithmancy. That filled out the power and intelligence quotas. Plus, she was also described to be very levelheaded and down-to-earth. From the way Wormtail waxed on this, the Dark Lord could only assume that she led a very boring life discussing make-up and dress robes while getting high scores and dating Quidditch jocks and what-not. Normal, nothing extraordinary. And normalcy was something Voldemort never really found a love for.
…He had her put in the dungeon for a month before he realized that Elizabeth Marlowe was the best candidate he had.
So, he did his pureblood duty (ahem, ahem!). She got pregnant and had to be watched over constantly so that she didn't commit suicide. Apparently, for some reason that Voldemort could and had fathomed and found insulting, she had a problem giving birth to the progeny of the greatest dark wizard of the times.
Nine months and a few days later, his son was born. It just so happened that the child happened to be born on Voldemort's own birthday. December 31st, 1978 marked a great day in Death Eater history – even though there was an intercepted attack on the Longbottom family in Lancashire, they were greeted with wine and good food. A party if you will. The Dark Lord was in a good mood and handed out cigars. They enjoyed it while it lasted, which was until the next morning.
As according to his plan, he had Elizabeth Marlowe killed. The woman was whole-heartedly on the side of the Light, so to speak. She was already making preparations for a desperate escape with his son. Taking his newborn baby in his arms, he immediately went to his own personal healer and a couple of magical experimentalists who used to work in the Department of Mysteries. They were to give the child special potions and the like, increasing his knowledge and magical power. This would take about a year to accomplish if done successfully (and that was…guaranteed, if you will). While his son was gaining years and was safe hidden away in a nice hideaway in Northern Ireland, Voldemort would continue his work.
He did not name the child officially yet. If the child died in the middle of those preparations, he didn't want any emotional ties or things like that. That just made things complicated.
It was a year later when he saw his boy again. He was already walking and speaking in small sentences. The healer was exclaiming over the child's progress over the year, saying it was a magical breakthrough. To increase magical intelligence and power the way they had was unheard of. Voldemort was concerned over other matters.
The main being: the boy's health. The healer had made mention (very briefly) that the young toddler was prone to occasional bouts of severe migraines and a tendency for releasing magic. The theory was that his body was still adjusting to the changes. Recalling his own difficulties due to his transformations, he understood this. But Voldemort noted the boy's tiny size – he had seen the children of some of his Death Eaters at this age and they were much taller. He also saw that the boy inherited most of his looks – the pale skin and large green eyes stood out strikingly in the gloom of his stronghold.
The black hair was definitely Potter hair though. Neater than most Potters, but still it was definite Potter hair.
Seeing the boy's quick conclusions of his situation and the crackle of defensive magic that severely burned his fingers when he approached the lad, he could only assume that the healer and his colleagues had done their job. Seeing the almost defiant glimmer in the boy's hesitant smile, the thought 'This is not going to work' flashed briefly in his mind.
He pushed this to the far back of his consciousness. It remained there even when he found a pheasant going berserk outside his bedroom door the next morning. A pheasant that had once been Bellatrix Lestrange, who was "innocently" trying to take a peek at the Dark Lord's heir (whom she had not given birth to).
He named the boy Julian. Julian Alexander Riddle.
