Prologue

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.

Hello and welcome, to the rewrite of Harry Potter, Lord of Darkness. At some point, I had started this rewrite, then lost it, and then forgot it and left it in hiatus. I decided to just start over and rewrite completely from scratch. I love this little story idea of mine, and I want to do it justice. As my skills further improve, I may do more complete rewrites, which I will publish separately. View this new rewrite as a first draft please, and know that it can only get better from here. Thank you so much for reading this, and thank you especially to old readers who have come back for it.

10 years ago:

Voldemort, the Darkest Dark Lord in a thousand years, had a problem. A problem of the prophetic sort. According to one of his most loyal followers, Severus Snape, a prophecy had been made, detailing how Voldemort was going to be defeated... or at least, by whom.

Voldemort would not be defeated. His every effort for the last thirty years had been to secure first his dominion over death and then his dominion over all that lived. He would be remembered as a god-king over all humanity. They would serve or die.

But, this prophecy, or at least the part Snape had heard. "The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him... born as the seventh month dies."

Clearly, this meant that a child would defeat him. A CHILD. How disgusting, how humiliating that the most powerful wizard of his generation, of all time even, would be undone by an infant who wasn't even born yet.

Furthermore, his idiot of a follower had gotten caught, so he hadn't heard the whole prophecy. Voldemort could attempt to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic and retrieve the prophecy to hear it for himself, but that was a risky endeavour. At the first sign of his appearance, the Ministry would move to destroy the prophecy.

Or, he could simply await the prophecy to come to pass. Nothing he had heard indicated to him that he would be defeated by this prophesied child, merely that this child would have the power to. However, that posed an unpalatable risk. He wouldn't risk his downfall on the mere idea that he could recruit the prophesied child.

That left one option. Identify the parents, and destroy them, parents and child alike. If he struck quickly, the infant wouldn't have the magical power to defeat him, nor the experience necessary to direct that power to his will.

The line "born to those who have thrice defied him" caught in Voldemort's mind. Very, very few even survived defying him once. Dumbledore? He certainly had been a thorn in Voldemort's side, more than three times, even. However, the man was much too old to be having children now, and besides, Voldemort didn't think that Dumbledore could perform well enough with a woman to have a child.

Nobody in the Ministry, at least according to the information available to his spies and plants in said Ministry.

So that left Dumbledore's followers. What families all allied themselves to Dumbledore? The Weasleys? No, they were a weak family, both in magical and political power. It was unlikely to be them.

The Longbottoms? They had managed to escape his traps and soldiers before, three times even, but they weren't particularly powerful. The Potters? They had even stood before him and escaped. The two were renowned as prodigies in their respective fields. A child of theirs could have power to rival his own.

He nodded to himself. The Potters seemed the most likely candidate. Now, he just needed to locate them. Fortunately, he already had a spy close to them, the foul Peter Pettigrew. The man knew neither loyalty nor bravery, and didn't have an ounce of cunning in his body. The only reason he worked well as a spy is that nobody cared about him. He was invisible.

Within a few months, Pettigrew discovered their location, and even managed to convince the Potters to make him the Secret Keeper to their Fidelius. When he immediately reported their location to Voldemort, Voldemort began his plan.

He'd Apparate to outside the town, and walk in under a Disillusionment charm. Once he breached their wards, he'd put up his own wards to prevent their escape, drop his Disillusionment, then attack. Yes... It would work.

Then Snape discovered his plan. He spent hours begging for the woman's life. Finally, Voldemort caved. It was either kill Snape or reach an accord with him, and Snape was far too valuable for Voldemort's future plans. As a Potions Master, he could brew anything Voldemort's army needed, as a spellcrafter he had made many offensive dark spells.

And if the worst happened, if Voldemort was discorporated, Snape was to curry favor with Dumbledore, and subtly help to arrange Voldemort's return in the meantime, as well as be a spy while Voldemort regained his power.

So, killing Snape was off the table. But Voldemort wouldn't abandon his plan to kill the child and its father. If the woman got in the way of that, then she'd die too. He made sure Snape understood that. But Voldemort would offer her mercy, at Snape's behest. He was a man of his word.

October 31st

That night, he launched his attack on his prophesied foe. He blasted in the door to the small house in Godric's Hollow, and killed the man behind it with a quick Killing Curse. He proceeded to the next floor.

He offered the woman her chance to live. He even offered an additional two times. When she refused, he put her down, then turned to the child. He looked at it and wondered. 'Could I take him? Raise him as mine? He'd probably decide one day to surpass his father. To kill me to assert his dominance. I can't risk it.'

He raised his wand, and cast the spell. As the green light sped towards the child, Voldemort could swear the child changed. A dark aura surrounded him, and his eyes appeared a firey red. Before Voldemort even had time to process this change, the green light was gone, and an explosion emanated from the child's crib. He knew only darkness and pain.

The next night, a child with a scar on his forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt, was placed on the doorstep of a suburban house, #4 Privet Drive.

The three adults who were placing him there bickered. Among them, there was a middle-aged woman with greying hair and a stern appearance, a younger man approximately the size of three men, and a much older man.

The woman was speaking animatedly. "Albus, we can't leave him here. Blood protections be damned, these are the worst sorts of Muggles!"

The older man replied. "Surely you exaggerate, Minerva. Yes, they probably won't love him as he deserves, and that is heart breaking, but the blood wards here will prevent anyone with ill intent from harming him. We must consider his safety first and foremost."

Minerva snapped, "That's what I am doing, Albus! Those wards only protect him from people who aren't directly related to his mother, and you know it. It does him no good to protect him from Death Eaters who won't be able to find him in the Muggle world anyways, if his relatives kill him first!"

The large man was silently crying behind her, but he spoke up, in a soft voice that didn't match his rough appearance at all. "I agree with Dumbledore, Professa. 'E won't suffer too bad with Dumbledore's spell."

Clearly outvoted, the woman glared. Without another word, she turned on the spot. She vanished with a loud noise echoing through the neighborhood.

Albus reached out and patted the large man on the arm, attempting to comfort him. "Don't worry, Hagrid. I won't let him get hurt." He felt only a small twinge of guilt at that lie. The two also vanished from the street, leaving the baby on the doorstep. It was for the Greater Good, after all.

Five years ago

The young boy tried not to cry. His whole body was hurting, in a way he had never felt before. In a way he didn't understand, he felt broken. His left arm wouldn't move. He couldn't sit up. His cousin had hit him, over and over, with one of his new toys. But if he cried, it would only get worse. If he bothered his Uncle, then he'd come back and hurt the boy more.

A darkness fell over the boy, and he fell asleep - but it wasn't like any sleep he could remember before.

A few days later, he woke up in the hospital, and was told that he would be sent to an orphanage.

They called him a name he'd never heard before. Harry Potter.