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Blood Wards

By Jamnaz79

Notice: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters within this wonderful work of art. I only borrow and butcher the story and character of JK Rowlings. Hopefully it is a little interesting read and brings out a few questions and thoughts

Note: it takes place after 4th year

The greatest and most protective wards ever established were in place to protect Harry Potter. Blood wards, founded from the sacrifice of his mother. Wards that were linked to keep out any Death Eater, individual with magic that would do the boy harm, or witch and wizard not on an approved list from Albus Dumbledore.

There was only one fault with these blood wards. They were linked to the blood of Harry Potter. Normally this would not be a problem but when after the end of his fourth year Harry was bound into a ritual to raise the Dark Lord Voldemort it became a problem. So anyone wise enough to understand if the Dark Lord used the blood of Harry Potter in the ritual to return to life, the question must be asked. What is to keep the Dark Lord from walking through the supposed strongest possible wards to protect Harry Potter?

The answer….. nothing!

The man appeared in the evening a week after the end of the school term. His arrival was accompanied by a small crack from apparition. It was a display of his power, knowledge and understanding of the art that he appeared right before the wards with barely a sound. He stood with bald head, nose-less and dark eyes studying the ward scheme before him. A smile crossed his lips as he stared at the wards that had been raised by the supposed Greatest Wizard in the world. They were impressive, but nothing that was fancier then what might be done by the goblins. They were merely crap compared to the great ward scheme that was used on some of the ancient houses. Comparing these wards to those of Hogwarts would be a joke of the greatest proportions.

A small smile crossed the lips of the Dark Lord as he stepped forward and crossed the ward line. His dragon hide boots slowly crunched down onto the perfect grasses of the muggles that lived here. It was rather disturbing to see how over the years the muggles seemed to become more similar to each other. Every house on the street looked the same in construction. Each of the houses had the same rose gardens, the same paint scheme, and mostly the same luxurious cars outside. It was as if the muggle sheep were led to aim for the same exact things. If this was all that muggles craved perhaps it would be easier to conquer them than he had realized.

Before he knew it his steps had brought him to the doorway of Potter's relatives. He raised his hand towards the doorknob but stopped as he heard a noise. Slowly his dark gaze turned away from the doorway towards the bushes. The noise again came to his ear, a rather annoying snore seemed to tear through the silence of the evening. His eyes couldn't see anything when he looked at first but a wicked smile crept over the lips of the man as he saw the impression of a body lying in the dirt. Surely a foolish guard if he slept while supposedly keeping watch.

Despite the desire to do away with one of Dumbledore's faithful might be pleasant, it would put a crimp in his plans. Instead of a small success which would alert Dumbledore of his presence he was here to end the resistance to his future plans one way or the other. That kept in mind the most powerful dark wizard in the known world turned back to the muggle door and slowly opened it up.

The door slowly swung open, surprising considering that the muggles didn't seem to lock their doors. Perhaps their neighborhood was considered too safe to need to. In either case it seemed that they didn't even notice someone was at the door. From the flickering light coming from the family room and kitchen it seemed they were all surrounding the muggle television device. An obvious device that seemed to have the plan to suck the intelligence and willpower out of any soul that came before it. Another cursed piece of muggle technology that was becoming deadly to the mind. The cursed creatures just were begging to be conquered.

Ignoring further considerations of the need to conquer and revitalize the world of muggles under his lead, Voldemort turned and slowly walked up the stairs towards where Potter must be kept hidden. His footfalls were silent as he walked forward stopping at the first door. Slowly he turned the handle and swung it open with his left hand while the right held his wand firmly ready to end the life of the foolish boy-who-lived. The room he found was a muggle child's room filled with toys, com-put-ers, and other strange devices that seemed to be laying around everywhere. Yet, there was no Potter. The next room opened seemed to be where the muggle parents might reside.

It was the final room on the floor that found the Dark Lord standing outside of it. It was a strange door, one might suspect more likely to be found on a prison cell then a bedroom. There was seven separate types of deadbolt locks all of different sizes. There seemed to be a door on the bottom that one would use to allow a pet to enter and exit a room. Strangely enough it seemed that outside of the swinging door was a platter with empty plate and cup that might have held something to drink. The thought ran through the head of the Dark Lord, this is the room of Harry Potter? This is what the boy put up with in his muggle life? Was this the goal of Dumbledore to make the boy live a life similar to his own as a youth to force out his strength? Perhaps force the boy to be endeared to him in order to become dependent on him to get away from these muggles hat seemed to not care for him? What was Dumbledore's game? There were always hidden meanings for everything that the old man did. There were always something hidden underneath the scene that worked in his favor. The wards had been strong but not too strong, was this situation the real reason that Harry Potter was here? Was the boy too brainwashed to know what was being done to him?

The Dark Lord flicked his wand causing all of the locks to flip open. The door pushed inwards on its own demand from the will of the Dark Lord. A small creak sounded from the little used hinges that lacked grease. Then he stepped forward into the room looking through the small room.

The place was barren on the walls with old faded wallpaper. The right side of the room was littered with garbage, broken toys, old worn books, clothing that look to be made for a small walrus. A broken desk sat in the corner with an owl locked in the cage rested on the table. The windows had prison bars covering them to keep any chance of escape for the caged animal or the boy. The boy himself was laying on the bed, strangely even the door opening didn't wake him.

A step closer showed the Dark Lord why the boy had not awoken from his slumber. The entire back, arms, legs of the boy were beaten bloody and raw. There were pieces of scalp that had clumps of blood holding it together. The boy was a mess worse than if he had held him under a cruciatus spell for minutes.

A strange feeling filled the Dark Lord, one he had not expected to be aimed for the Potter boy. Protectiveness. This boy may be his enemy, but he was a magical. These muggles had done this to his rival? They had done this to a boy that had the magical strength and willpower to stand up to him, even if it was mostly luck? These common beasts were allowed to get away with this to his enemy? Only he had the right to do this. Only he had the right to determine the fate of a magical creature, witch or wizard! He was the strongest wizard in the world, it was his right!

His eyes lowered down to the boy passed out unconscious. Only the slow rising and falling of his chest showed that the boy was even alive. He stared at the boy thinking over the fate of his enemy. A few minutes passed in silence as he stared at the boy that vexed him so much. This was a boy that defied everything necessary for the future of the magical people due to his stubborn pride. This was a child that had the strength to back up his defiance against the great Lord Voldemort, a boy that may be worthy of becoming his apprentice. Was it too late to do this though? Could he unwind the fake lessons that from the body of the boy had been beaten into him? A flick of the wand summoned the cage of the owl and trunk of the boy onto the bed. A second flick of the wand caused the enter bed to become a portkey. He glanced around the room and frowned as there was nothing else of worth for the boy. Nothing else to his pitiful life, so much like his own had been as Tom in the orphanage. For the first time that night Lord Voldemort spoke a word to activate the portkey, "Power."

It would be days till the Order of the Phoenix would realize that their precious savior was gone. Days of delay in looking for Harry Potter that would cause a direct change to the future of the Wizarding World and not one for the better of their own futures.

Author Note: Any thoughts? Always wondered if Voldemort took Harry's blood how the hell did the blood wards keep him out? This Voldemort is a little less crazy and more calculating with his decisions. Why waste an enemy with an easy death if you can use him to become a possible powerful ally for the future?