Rise of a Dark Prince

Part 1

CHAPTER 1

"Lily! He's here! Take Jake and go! We'll keep him occupied," James shouted frantically, throwing a portkey at his wife's hands. There was a momentary lull of silence and then all of Diagon Alley erupted in chaos. Lord Voldemort had arrived with his followers.

There was pandemonium everywhere. Masked men levitating innocents and killing at will. The Order of the Phoenix members who were there instantly joined in and intercepted the death eaters before they could reach innocent bystanders.

But instead of obeying her husband's instructions, Lily Potter grabbed his arm before he could join the fray. "I'm not leaving without you, James. Come with us."

"I… I can't, Lils," he said worriedly, clearly torn in two. "I have a duty here."

"Not this time," Lily Potter said firmly, tightening her grip on her husband's arm. "You know why he is here. He wants Jake. Let us go."

James opened his mouth to argue but just then, Lily activated the portkey with her hands tightly around her husband and Jake. The three Potters vanished in thin air, none of them having noticed a small boy staring at them expectantly. Their disappearance was noted and a death eater screamed, "The Potters have left!" There seemed to be an instant pause in the battle and several eyes stared at the screaming death eater in shock.

"P-Peter?" Sirius Black cried in disbelief. Then blinded by rage, he was about to charge at his one-time best friend when a hand stopped him.

"Padfoot! Leave Peter! We have to get Harry," Remus Lupin yelled in despair. "He's walking straight to..."

The two watched in horror as a small black-haired boy ran heedlessly away from the battle. His parents had forgotten to take him and scared by the sights and sounds of the battle, he ran to the one place where there was relative peace.

Lord Voldemort stood in the middle of the street observing the havoc created by his men, not deigning to participate himself. Jets of light flashed all around him and yet seemed to avoid him as if in fear of the Dark Lord. His own men knew better than to approach him and the aurors and Order members feared to. He calmly directed the battle from a distance, occasionally punishing some of his men for indulging in disgusting carnal activities in front of him, when he suddenly stumbled. A boy had collided with him.

In one graceful motion, the Dark Lord raised his wand and swished it downwards towards the young boy but stopped on meeting his eyes. Haunting emerald green eyes. Slytherin's colors. Frowning, he noticed the hollowness in his eyes. The emptiness with which he met the older wizard's stare - a lack of respect and a lack of disrespect. It was unusual for the Dark Lord. An innocent gaze. Shaking his head, the Dark Lord suppressed such feelings and raised his wand again. It wouldn't do good to the morale of his men if he allowed the child to live. "Avada Kedavra!"

Lupin and Black stared in shock as their best friend's son fell down limp, at the hands of the Dark Lord himself. Horror and self-disgust rose in both of them and it was as if time itself slowed down. Memories swirled in both men's heads, of how they had forced themselves to neglect and ignore the innocent child on Dumbledore's orders. How they stifled their self-disgust when the boy would run back to his room in tears at being continuously left out. Taking a step back, Black stumbled. Recovering from his reverie first, Lupin noticed the aurors and Order members all falling down or fleeing. This victory was the Dark Lord's. With one last glance at the fallen Potter, he touched his friend's arm and activated his portkey to safety.

Victory was indeed the Dark Lord's. He stood smiling crookedly at the destruction and chaos surrounding him. There were no more fighters. The only people left were his death eaters and their prey. But enough was enough. Everyone there were wizards and witches and hence deserving of some respect. Raising his voice, he bellowed, "We leave now!"

The death eaters immediately stopped whatever they were doing and portkeyed away until the Dark Lord was left alone. He was about to apparate when he heard a noise from behind him. Turning, the Dark Lord's eyes bulged in utter shock. The boy he had hit straight on the chest with a killing curse was stirring. It was impossible. Nobody could survive the killing curse. He stared in disbelief as the boy moved and slowly got to his feet. The boy stood up and looked at the Dark Lord.

"Who are you?" the Dark Lord asked finally after several moments of silence between the two.

"Harry Potter, sir," the dark haired boy said quietly to the strange scary man with the pointy wooden thing.

Several emotions ran through the Dark Lord's head at the same time. Panic, at almost having killed the person he had staged the whole attack for. Disgust, at the common appearance of the boy akin to that of a muggle beggar than a heir to a prominent pureblood family. Relief, at having him in front of him despite hearing shouts that the Potters had fled. And finally, wonder, at his survival. It was a wonder that the very person that he had come for had been left behind, was the very person he had shot a killing curse at, and who managed to survive it. The Dark Lord gazed in fascination at the boy in front of him.

"Are you going to kill me now?"

Despite the situation, the Dark Lord found himself chuckling at the boy's words. Little did he realize that he should have been dead already. "Perhaps. Have you been a good boy?"

The boy turned grief-stricken eyes to the older man and said in a forlorn tone, "I'm never good enough for mummy and daddy. Jake is good." Then he lowered his eyes and stared at his feet. "I'm sorry."

Something kindled in the older man's heart - something that hadn't been felt for decades. The boy's loneliness reminded him of another boy who stood alone in an orphanage several decades ago, someone who for all his loneliness had no family or brother to compare with. Looking down, the Dark Lord almost lowered his wand. But caught himself at the last moment. Pointing his wand at the boy, he whispered, "Legillimens!"

After several minutes, he drew back and took a deep breath. He had seen enough. The boy was neglected beyond belief. What surprised the Dark Lord most was his ability to speak in parseltongue. A smile had formed on his lips when he saw the boy talking to a garden snake which quickly turned to a frown on seeing his father's response to that.

"Does your arm still hurt, boy?" he asked with a modicum of tenderness, something that fell strangely on his lips.

The boy looked at him in surprise. "H-how do you know?" Then he took a step back with damp eyes. "You… you saw it… just now."

"You are a smart lad," the Dark Lord gave a rare laugh in honest joy, marveling the boy's sudden grasp of what had just happened. He didn't look older than six or seven at most and yet he looked with eyes of someone far older. "Your parents had no right to treat you the way they have. Your mother… she should have known better," the man's eyes clouded for an instant but then he gazed at the boy. "If I give you a choice… will you come with me?"

He looked at the man in surprise and a little suspicion. "Why? What will you do to me?"

The Dark Lord sighed and looked around. Seeing no one alive in sight, he whispered, "You'll be my apprentice." Seeing the boy's blank expression on that term, he sighed. "I will teach you all that I know."

"Really? Will you teach me magic?" the boy asked in surprise. "Will I learn like Jake?"

"You will learn more than your foolish brother," the Dark Lord said calmly. "You will become as powerful as Lord Voldemort. You'll be my equal, my apprentice. Let us go now."

The Dark Lord stood up menacingly and glanced around. There was no movement, only corpses. With a glance at the boy in front of him, he flicked his wand, "Incendio!" And then the Dark Lord and the child disappeared from Diagon Alley.

He reappeared in Riddle Manor in the underground chamber, fashioned after the chamber of secrets in Hogwarts. Pushing the boy to a conjured bed, he said firmly, "You will stay here until I return. My familiar will keep you company." Then turning to a cobra that was coiled in a small circle, he hissed, "Nagini! You will keep my apprentice company."

"Very well, massster," the snake hissed. "But how can I give company to a man-child who cannot understand me or speak the Noble Tongue?"

"I can speak Snake-English," Harry interrupted suddenly, looking at the surprised cobra with interest. "I'm Harry."

"I see, massster," Nagini hissed appreciatively. "The serpent-child will be sssafe." And she coiled around the young boy's right leg protectively.

Chuckling, a rare indulgence from the Dark Lord and yet for the second time in the same hour, he walked away to the courtyard where his followers had gathered. He nodded on noting that they had all managed to clean themselves and their robes before coming to his presence. But then he had given enough incentive to the last person who had forgotten to never repeat the same mistake ever again. Walking straight to the front, he took his seat and with a flourish of his wand hissed, "Crucio!"

All the death eaters shuffled to see who was feeling the Dark Lord's wrath. It was a short and stocky man whom few had seen before. The Dark Lord kept the curse for more than a minute as the man whimpered and twitched in pain. When he released the curse, the man moaned sickeningly.

"You were to keep yourself hidden," the Dark Lord said icily. "Your friends are now aware of your true allegiance. You are no use to me as a spy anymore, Wormtail." He looked disdainfully at the cowering man and then turned to another. Even through the mask, the Dark Lord could sense a sudden exclamation of disbelief at the revelation of the spy's identity. "Surprised that a marauder would betray their own, Severus?" Seeing Snape bow his head in deference, the Dark Lord nodded, "You own importance has increased vastly to the cause. Stay back after I am done. Bartemius, come forward."

The Dark Lord stifled a cry of exasperation as the young death eater strutted to the front, seemingly convinced of receiving praise from his master. "Crucio!" He held the curse for close to five minutes as the death eater screamed in pain.

"If I ever see or hear of you molesting a pureblood or halfblood witch who has done no wrong, I will personally feed you to Nagini. Get out of my sight," he spat in anger as the trembling death eater bowed in pain and left.

"Today, we were victorious," he began and raised his hand to stop his followers from cheering. "Diagon Alley will remember the might of Lord Voldemort in future. Still, there is much to improve. My most trusted followers, do you not see what we are fighting for? Is death and destruction all you can see?" He took a sharp intake of breath and turned to Malfoy, "Lucius, why do we fight?"

The aristocrat took a step forward and bowing said, "To restore the glory of pureblood families and to bring about Salazar Slytherin's vision of a society ruled by magic."

"And how pray, will we achieve that if you kill members of some of the most prominent pureblood families, Lucius?" the Dark Lord snapped back. "Gideon Prewett! Were you unaware that he is yet to have a son?"

"It was in the heat of battle, my lord. It will not be repeated. I am ready for my punishment," the aristocrat said quietly, kneeling down in front of his master.

The Dark Lord nodded and said coldly, "Crucio!" but lifted the curse in a few seconds. "See that you don't forget. Dumbledore and the Ministry portray us as mindless murderers." He took a deep breath. "But we are more than that. We are the true followers of magic, we believe in it - in the might and supremacy of magic. If being gifted with this incredible power was not an indication of our right to rule and mould the society to a higher order, then of what use is it? Those idiots and blood-traitors in the Order of the Phoenix waste this gift," he narrowed his eyes in disgust and continued, "But we do not fight against them. We merely fight for our rightful place in this world, and any who stand in our way will be removed. But should they stand aside, I will let them live. Lord Voldemort may not be merciful, but Lord Voldemort is not a fool. A wasteland of corpses and blood, that is not the society I intend to rule. There is an order behind the chaos I seek to create. An order more meaningful than the one currently existing." His voice had acquired a power that held the attention of every single death eater but then he gave a slight sigh. "You have all fought well. Rest tonight."

One by one the death eaters left, until Snape and Bellatrix were the sole remaining.

"Severus, my friend," the Dark Lord said, "I need several potions tonight - a healing, a nourishing, a strengthening and a dreamless sleep. Make several vials and send them with your house elf."

"As you wish, my lord," Snape bowed, hiding his bemusement at the strange list of potions, and kissing the hem of his master's robes, left.

"Now, my sweet Bella, what can I do for you?"

"My lord," Bella said hesitatingly. "M-May I stay tonight?"

The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow and walked to the dark haired beauty. Tracing a line on her face and neck with his finger, he said, "Why? Is Rodolphus not giving you good company?"

Bella gave a short rueful laugh at that. "My husband," she twisted her face at the word, "prefers the company of Crabbe and Goyle to his wife."

"Then he is a fool," the Dark Lord whispered in her ear, touching her neck with his lips, making her shiver. Then he drew back abruptly. "Not tonight, my dear. I have other business. Go home to that Longbottom child you have taken as your son."

He looked dispassionately as the woman nodded in disappointment and kissing the hem of his robes and his ring, left. Just as she left, a hissing noise came from close by and the Dark Lord turned in anger.

"Nagini! I told you to stay with the boy!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Voldemort, sir," the boy came in view, trembling in fear. "I… I was thirsty and looking for water. Nagini tried to keep me away from here. I'm s-sorry. Don't make me leave. Please." Then he walked to the Dark Lord and knelt in front, eerily similar to the way Lucius Malfoy had done earlier.

The Dark Lord opened his mouth and then closed. A smile formed at the corners of his lips. The boy was willing to face punishment even after seeing its effect on bigger men rather than leave him. Raising his wand, he brought it down at the boy and said, "Obscuro." Blindfolds immediately came over the boy's eyes.

"The next time you disobey me and come to a private meeting, I will leave those blinds on permanently. Finite," he said calmly. "Get up and come here." He waited as the boy came to him and asked, "What is your name?"

The boy looked in surprise. "Harry Potter, sir. I told you ear…"

"Call me Master, and I didn't ask for any additional comments. Obedience, boy," the Dark Lord said in a cold tone, "is the first lesson you will learn from me. I do not tolerate disobedience from my followers and I will not tolerate it from you. If you are to be my apprentice, you will do as I say, when I say. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," the Dark Lord remarked. "Now tell me, boy, should I give you a new name?"

After thinking for a second, Harry nodded. "Yes please, sir."

The Dark Lord regarded the boy curiously. "I don't like your old name. It's too common for someone who will be apprentice. Why don't you like your name?"

"It was given to me by people who don't care for me. I would like a new name from you, sir," the boy said innocently.

The Dark Lord stared and then narrowed his eyes. "And do you think I care for you?"

The boy stared hard at the ground. "I don't know, sir. At least, you talk to me."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Very well, boy. Follow me." He turned around and walked back to the stone chamber underground. With his wand, he created a separate inner chamber, and conjured a king-sized bed, a wardrobe, a mirror and an attached toilet. The room was in black and silver with pictures of dragons and basilisks. "This will be your room. Do you require anything else?"

The boy looked wide eyed at the furniture and with a subtle push of legilimency, the Dark Lord saw the tiny and barren room he used to have. He also saw a desire for a bookshelf with books, something that pleased the Dark Lord. Neglect at the hands of his parents had made the boy turn to books. But though he could read more than what would be expected for one his age it was not enough for the tomes of magical learning that the Dark Lord had.

With a swishing motion, the Dark Lord conjured an empty bookshelf. "Cricket!" he bellowed and a house elf popped in front of them, bowing deep. "Cricket, you will look after the boy. See to his needs. Find out what level of books he can read and bring them for him. You will help him develop his reading, writing, Latin and arithmetic. Severus will be sending his house elf with some potions. Give one each to the boy tonight and keep the rest in a store." Then turning to the boy, he said, "You will tell Cricket of your needs and the kind of books you like. Then you will read until Cricket tells you to sleep. I will see you in the morning. Do you have any preference for a name?"

"Boy will do, sir," the boy said. Then looking at the Dark Lord with glistening eyes, he added, "Thank you."

----------

Mortimer Thomas Riddle looked disdainfully at the death eater meeting from his vantage point up high. Peering at the death eaters kissing the Dark Lord's robe, the boy turned back in disgust and hissed, "All that saliva! His robes must be swarming with bacteria."

"I know not what you speak of, serpent-child," a cobra hissed, coiled around the boy's waist. "But it is time for you to return if you wish to avoid massster's wrath."

That shook the boy into action. Carefully climbing back and pushing the lose wooden tiles back in place, he quietly crept out and hurried to the inner stone chamber where he was supposed to be reading. Picking up his copy of 'Moste Pontente Potions', he randomly opened a page and peered into it without actually reading the words, just in time, as a soft pop reverberated through the chamber, indicating the arrival of the Dark Lord.

"I see you are working hard on," the Dark Lord glanced at the title and raised his eyebrow, "a fertility potion?" Shaking his head at his apprentice's sudden flustering, he continued, "I should punish you for disobeying me again and eavesdropping." Shutting the tome, he faced his apprentice. "What did you think of today's meeting?"

Mort gave a sheepish grin. "Rodolphus Lestrange and Bartemius Crouch are headstrong will cause problems. Snape is most likely a spy for Dumbledore. Narcissa Malfoy has eyes on replacing Bella by your side. Her husband is aware and not entirely pleased. Oh, and you need to learn a few cleaning charms for your robes."

The Dark Lord pondered on his observations for a few moments before nodding. "It is astounding how deep an insight you have managed to gain on my own followers without ever meeting any of them. I must admit I have had my own fears concerning Severus for quite a while. As it is, he is well placed to spread false information when I most need to. His skills as a Master in Potions is of great use as well."

Mort nodded. "Tell me, Master, when will I be introduced to your… what do you call them," he snorted derisively, "followers?"

"Not until you manage to fully control your metamorphmagi abilities," the Dark Lord snapped in annoyance, "and retain your new appearance without even trying to." He glanced appreciatively at his young apprentice as the boy instantly changed his appearance. His messy dark hair settled in a smooth and lustrous manner and fell until his shoulders. His face narrowed and sharpened until he looked more like his master than his father. His eyes remained the same, though his eyebrows became thicker.

"Then am I to pose as your son?" Mort asked curiously.

"Don't be foolish, boy," the Dark Lord drawled in a monotone, taking a seat. "You are more the age of a grandson to me. However, I am not accountable to my followers. By not explaining your identity save your name I will let them scare themselves with their own conclusions."

As the days passed, Mort discovered his talent and interest in runic magic. It was a rare branch of magic and although the theory behind it was fairly well known, its application was a more daunting task. The Dark Lord had explained it to him that the ancient language of the runes shared the same roots as parseltongue and hence the two of them could understand it better than most other wizards. As such, the Dark Lord encouraged his passion in runes and provided various books on it.

One day, Mort drew a pattern with his wand on a tray of water. On finishing, the pattern glowed silver and faded in the clear liquid. The moment the rune disappeared, colors appeared in the water. Mort smiled. He could see the garden outside, where he had cast a similar rune on a tree. The vision in the water tray was as if somebody were standing outside at the exact spot where the rune was cast.

"Well, this has several possibilities," he muttered, thinking of the ease with which he could spy death eater meetings in the future, not noticing his master's arrival. "If only I find a way to get the sounds as well."

"There is another rune for it," the Dark Lord remarked casually. "But you will have to find it on your own." Then noticing the thoughtful expression on the boy's face, he added, "Something bothering you, boy?"

With a frown, Mort said, "Last week, I saw a group of children of my age in the fields outside. One of them was clearly a Malfoy. I was wondering…"

"If you could join them in mindless activities that are an utter waste of time?" the Dark Lord asked dangerously.

"Basically," Mort said with a nod. "It would also be a means to ensure the loyalty of the next generation of your followers to the cause. I am ten now, Master. For three years, I have completely immersed myself in books on knowledge and strategy. It is time I put them to some practical use."

"Practical use," the Dark Lord muttered thoughtfully. Then raising his voice, he said, "Tomorrow you will be outside the Death Retreat at six in the evening, sharp. Retain your secondary appearance, the one of an ordinary blonde muggleborn." And then he left.

The next morning, Mort stood outside the cave-like structure which hid a palatial inside, where the Dark Lord's followers gathered together to make merry. He had often crept by under disillusionment charms and left in disgust, hearing screams of muggles being tortured. For all his complete support to his Master, he couldn't accept some of the activities of the death eaters.

That day was no different. From inside, he heard a muggle family shouting and screaming in terror as several death eaters laughed in mirth. Mort shook his head in disgust just as he heard voices from inside.

"Barty, what is it, eh?" a rasp voice called out.

"The proximity alarm… follow me," a young and silky voice responded. From the sound that followed, several people followed the two voices.

Mort knew both of them. Bartemius Crouch and Rodolphus Lestrange, two young prodigies according to most death eaters, useless scum according to his Master and his innermost council. Chiding himself for coming too close, Mort frowned. The Dark Lord had given no further instructions to him. If the death eaters weren't expecting him, then they would surely treat him as any other intruder.

"Not good," he muttered under his breath and adopted a ready position, keeping his wand well hidden.

"Who's there? Come on out," a voice drawled, which Mort recognized as belonging to Nott and shuddered. That man was known for his love for slow torture.

"He's here," the high pitched voice of Wormtail, former marauder and spy, came from beside Mort and he turned in dismay to see the rat Animagus. With a quick flourish of his wand, he stunned the death eater but the damage was done. He was surrounded by several dark robed men.

"Well, well, well," Rodolphus Lestrange licked his lips in fervor. "Who do we have here? Boys, looks like we have a new guest for the party."

"Thanks but I'm gonna have to bail on you guys," Mort said calmly, "I'll be leaving now." The death eaters laughed uproariously. Mort recognized Nott, Crabbe and Goyle apart from the other two.

"Mudbloods like you have only one place and that's in front of my wand," Lestrange smirked as he raised his wand and bellowed, "Crucio."

Mort, with his tremendous practice at dodging that very curse from the Dark Lord himself, had no trouble in rolling on the ground and sending a volley of stunners around him.

"So, the pretty boy likes to play, does he?" Lestrange yelled gleefully as he raised a shield to protect himself. Crabbe and Goyle however, weren't as lucky and fell instantly.

Mort didn't wait long. Picking himself up and dodging a few more curses, he rounded on Bartemius Crouch first. He was the weakest of the three left standing. "Stupefy! Reducto! Stupefy! Diffindo! Stupefy! Incendio! Stupefy!" he sent out with good speed and flourish, while dodging a few cruciatus from the other death eaters. He noted Crouch's shield finally give way as his robes caught fire and then fall to a stunner.

"Serpensortia!" Nott yelled.

Mort raised an eyebrow and calmly stopped moving. A cobra flew at him and from his attacker's wand and looked to attack him. Mort almost grinned at the irony of what was going to happen.

"Stop! Bind that man. Do not bite," he hissed in parseltongue, noting with relish its effect on the two death eaters. Nott was too shocked to observe the cobra turn to him and it was only when the snake was a few feet away did he realize his precarious position. But it was too late, the cobra coiled around him, his wand fallen to the ground.

Now it was just Rodolphus Lestrange and Mortimer Riddle. Both walked in a circle, wands pointed at each other's chest.

"Who are you?" the death eater finally asked.

"Your biggest mistake," Mort hissed evilly, a manner akin to the Dark Lord himself.

"We'll see about that, brat," Lestrange sneered and with a flick of his wand yelled, "Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light came rushing towards Mort just as he summoned a boulder to intercept it mid-way. Then rounding at the death eater, he whispered in parseltongue, "Serpensaura!" A noxious silvery vapor rose from his wand and rushed towards the death eater who stared at it in confusion but unable to concentrate on the battle anymore. His senses were trapped. All he could see was silver and all he could smell was the foul stench. A loud hissing noise filled his ears and mind and he fell to the ground with his head in his hands. But before Mort could send a stunner at his adversary, footsteps came in hearing range.

"What's going on here?" a silky voice drawled and Mort turned slightly to see Lucius Malfoy observing them. He wasn't alone. Next to him were Bellatrix and Severus Snape. Mort took a deep breath. He was face-to-face with the Dark Lord's most experienced and powerful supporters. Taking charge before Rodolphus could recover, he turned to the blond aristocrat.

"These idiots were under the impression that I would make a suitable substitute to the muggles in whom they seem to have lost interest," Mort hissed in a serpentine voice, startling the death eaters who had just arrived.

"We have been observing for the past few minutes. You fight well," Malfoy said with obvious interest. "Who are you and how do you know of this place?" Malfoy questioned curiously looking around at the limp bodies of his fellow death eaters.

"I am Mortimer," he replied quietly. So not all death eaters were raving lunatics. "I was told to come here." Then looking at his still incapacitated adversary, he pointed his wand at him while raising his other hand to the death eater in peace. "Finite!" he called out in parseltongue and the vapor that enveloped him.

Bellatrix meanwhile muttered, "No mudblood could have fought so well. You fool," she roared at her husband as he regained control of his senses, "Did you not think to find out who he was first?"

Malfoy scathingly turned to Rodolphus and snapped, "Have you lost your capacity to think? Only a death eater's child would know of this place. If it had been my son you were dueling, I would personally disembowel you and feed your insides to my dogs."

By then Bellatrix and Snape had approached Mort. Bellatrix was looking at his handiwork appreciatively while Snape removed a minor strengthening potion from within his robes and handed it to Mort. He considered the boy curiously for a few moments. "You appear to be on our side and yet… Who told you of this place?"

"That would be me, Severus," a voice came from a corner and the Dark Lord ambled into view gracefully with a crooked smile. "Mortimer," he nodded at his apprentice in approval.

Seeing his Master appear, Mort transformed into his primary appearance as the Dark Lord's apprentice. All the death eaters were startled at his change of appearance, seeing how closely he resembled their lord. Grinning at the shocked looks on the death eaters' faces, Mort joined the Dark Lord casually and remarked, "Some of your followers seem to think with their groins instead of their heads though there are a few with intellect and honor and I daresay, skills enough to beat a ten year old," he inclined his head at Malfoy, Snape and Bellatrix respectively.

"I was observing all along." The Dark Lord turned to the death eaters who had attacked Mort. "Not only were you drunk and foolish, you failed to overpower a mere child even with greater numbers. I am most displeased," the Dark Lord said coldly to a trembling Rodolphus Lestrange. "Crucio!"

After nearly five minutes, he let go and turned to the other stunned death eaters. Drawing a sharp breath, he flicked his wand, "Rennervate!" Then he turned to the three death eaters who came last. "Follow me," he said and led them to his council room.

"Lucius, Bella, Severus," he acknowledged as they took a seat. "You have pleased me by not degrading to the level of debauchery and decadence of your fellows. For that I shall honor you with the acquaintance of my apprentice, Mortimer." He waited as each of them registered the full implication of his announcement. "You are to address him as Lord Apprentice unless he deems you worthy of a first-name basis. Lucius, Bella, you each have a son of the same age as Mortimer. I have decided that Draco and Neville will be companions to him. Severus will teach all three the art of potion-making and dueling. Is that understood?"

"It is an honor, my lord," Malfoy bowed while Bellatrix gleamed with joy, both staring at Mort curiously.

"Severus, due to the sensitive nature of your role and close contact with Dumbledore, I must do this for the protection of my apprentice," the Dark Lord said casually and with a quick flourish of his wand, "Obscurus! No one will be able to determine this secret from you, not even using legilimency. When are you free from your work in Hogwarts?"

Snape inclined his head. "My lord, I will have my duties in Hogwarts every weekday until evening. I can come to teach the Lord Apprentice and his companions at night and on weekends."

"Then that is decided. Lucius, Bella, you will bring your boys to the manor tomorrow."

The next day, Mort woke up early and completed the work assigned to him by his Master that Cricket the house elf notified him about. He had to read a quarter of a thick tome on ancient goblin runes and prepare a list of practical uses. Mort struggled at first but ended up with identifying two possible uses - one, to create secret doors or compartments for hiding that could only be opened with a specific command. He added a note on using parseltongue so only the Dark Lord and his apprentice would have access. Second, he devised a combination of runes to create a rift in the space-mass continuum. This rift could be used to store a limitless amount of items and would always be accessible anywhere to the person who created it. He would never need to carry trunks again.

After finishing, he had a light lunch with Cricket with whom he had developed a close friendship before walking out to the gardens. Outside, he was greeted by a sight of two boys arguing.

"No, we will play Quidditch," one was arguing. He had blond hair and was elegantly clothed in silver silks that spoke of his aristocratic roots. Mort smiled, knowing him to be the son of Lucius Malfoy.

"Dueling with fake wands!" the other protested. A tall but plump boy with light brown hair scowled at the Malfoy. Mort raised an eyebrow. This had to be Neville Longbottom, orphaned by the woman currently raising him. The Dark Lord had told him of how Frank Longbottom had professed to love Bellatrix Black but broke her heart by marrying the girl his mother had decided for him. She had intended to torture them until they lost their minds but then she had seen Neville and she kidnapped him instead. The boy who should have rightfully been her child.

In his primary appearance as a Riddle, Mort walked out and joined them. Seeing him, both boys instantly stopped arguing. The Malfoy heir bowed to him in flourish and said, "Greetings, my Lord Apprentice! Father sends his regards and hopes for your good health."

Mort stifled a groan of exasperation and shared a grin with Neville who was rolling his eyes at the Malfoy. Turning to the aristocrat, he said icily, "I assume you will be kissing the bottom of my robes next."

"Certainly, Lord Apprentice," Mafoy said, though his eyes narrowed in disgust. He walked closer to Mort and knelt.

"Draco, you know he was just joking?" Neville said with a laugh just before Draco reached for Mort's robes. His words made the young aristocrat look up in chagrin at the disrespect shown by his friend and turned to apologize for his sake when Mort burst out in laughter.

"Get up, Draco," Mort said finally, taking a step back and out of the pureblood's reach. "I'm Mort and ten years old. I don't care how your father treats my Master. But I want us to be friends for now."

"Neville Lestrange, kidnapped heir to the Longbottom estate," the other boy came forward with an amused expression, extending his hand forward.

Mort shook hands with Neville and turned to Draco who was sulking in his spot. "Oh, come on, Draco, I'm sorry," he said affably. "But it was a bit funny." He gave his hand to him next and the boy gratefully took it.

"Father will be displeased," Draco said finally in a small voice. "He told me to show utmost respect to you, Lord App… I mean, Mort." He looked fearfully at the apprentice who merely shook his head.

"Just tell him I told you to call me Mort and expressed a desire to be friends. He will be pleased," Mort said calmly. Lucius Malfoy was scary and ruthless like the Dark Lord but not sadistic or cruel. Above all, he would realize the honor shown by Mort to the young Malfoy. He smiled reassuringly at the boy as he relaxed.

"So, you guys were deciding on what to do, weren't you?" Mort asked after a few seconds.

"Yeah! And Draco wants to play Quidditch. Auntie Bella says it's a waste of time and dueling is more useful! Maybe if we practice enough, we will be the best fighters when we grow up. Or at least, better than some of the halfwits who fight for the Dark Lord," Neville said boisterously and Mort smiled with a sudden realization that he and Neville would become good friends. "Draco is content on being average."

"No Malfoy is average, Longbottom," Draco snarled though without any real malice. "We'll let Mort decide!"

"I have another suggestion," Mort said, grinning crookedly, startlingly similar to the Dark Lord, thought the two boys had no way of knowing that. He had never had friends before apart from Cricket and Nagini and it was a whole new experience. "Have you ever been to a death eater meeting?"

----------

It had been a short and uninteresting meeting so far and the rest of the death eaters had already left. Lord Voldemort sat majestically with a handful of his most powerful followers. Lucius Malfoy was at his immediate right and Bella at his left. Next to Malfoy was Snape and next to Bella a new death eater with his face hidden.

"Do not wonder, my friends," the Dark Lord said calmly. "I asked our new brother to keep his identity a secret. He will replace Wormtail as our second spy among the foolish Order of the Phoenix and will answer directly to me. Now, Lucius, I believe you have something to say."

"My lord," Lucius inclined his head respectfully. "It has come to my attention that several of our number have been voicing their discontent at the slow pace of our conquest. The Lestrange brothers have convinced a small faction that we should have attacked and taken over the Ministry and Hogwarts by now. I fear this faction grows daily in number."

"They are fools," Bella interjected. "My lord, they do not share the same noble ideals that guide us. They only seek to pillage, plunder and destroy, satisfying their own hedonist desires. It would be wise to eliminate this problem altogether."

"You speak truly, my dear Bella," the Dark Lord said coolly. "But we need them. They are the fire with which we will burn the wound that festers our society before providing the correct treatment."

"I fear," Bella said with a sigh, her eyes lowered, "this fire might burn us all some day."

"Not while Lord Voldemort is still alive!" the Dark Lord hissed. "Do not forget yourself, my dear. You know why we have slowed our pace. We need to establish alliances with the other oppressed magical people. The giants, centaurs and vampires prefer to keep apart from human affairs and it would be futile to try and convince them otherwise. But we must have the werewolves and the goblins behind my banner and create a larger presence in other European countries. A day will come when the Dark Mark will be established outside the ministry building and a new order will rise. But we cannot forge this society with only a handful of wizards."

"My lord," Snape said quietly and when the Dark Lord waved his hand in permission, he continued, "It is men like Lestrange and Crouch and their vilifying ways that keeps many purebloods from seeing the true nature of your designs. As long as they are with you, families like the Prewetts, the Zabinis and the Changs will never join our cause."

"And yet," the Dark Lord remarked, "it is Lestrange and Crouch who fight for me and bloody themselves at my request. No Severus, I share your concerns but I will not turn my back on men who have devoted so much to me for others who have as yet despised my very name," the Dark Lord said quietly and yet with enough sharpness to keep anyone from encroaching the topic anymore.

"My lord," the mysterious death eater croaked in an obvious attempt to keep his voice a secret, "Jake Potter goes to Hogwarts this September."

This caught Mort's attention and he immediately stiffened, an action not unnoticed by Neville though Draco was peering eagerly at the assembled men. Mort drew back slightly, shaking his head slightly as Neville raised an eyebrow. Focusing his attention back on the meeting, he heard the Dark Lord speak.

"What can you tell me of the boy? Is he the hero everybody wants him to be?"

"He is a true Gryffindor, my lord," the mysterious figure said. "He is courteous and courageous to a fault but he is rash and narrow minded. He shows signs of potential, enough to be a valued member of this assembly if he could be convinced but there is nothing spectacular about the boy to set him apart from others like the Headmaster hoped."

"What of his brother?" the Dark Lord asked emotionlessly. "I heard he had a twin."

The figure lowered his head. "The twin died several years ago, at your own hands during the attack on Diagon Alley. I daresay you might not recall but a young lad ran into you. Back and Lupin were witness to your hitting him with the killing curse. The family had been distraught for a while. It appears Dumbledore had convinced them to neglect and mistreat the poor boy, a shameful act for any parent no matter the reasoning behind it. Lily Potter didn't speak for several months while James took to drinking and quit his job as an auror. It was only the birth of another child that ended the Potters' misery."

The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully, shooting an upwards glance at the exact position where Mort was concealed with his friends. Draco and Neville recoiled instantly but Mort held his place, unconcerned. If the Dark Lord had really intended to keep him from listening in, he would have made it impossible for him to return to the same place time after time.

"Another child?" he finally questioned the death eater with interest.

"Yes, my lord," he said. "A daughter named Emily."

"Severus," the Dark Lord turned instantly to the spy. "You have cause for enmity with James Potter. Take it out on his son, nothing to harm the boy but enough to determine his exact potential and personality. If Dumbledore wants you to stop, convince him that you are trying to prepare the boy for his future challenges. You may go to the inner chamber and await my apprentice's arrival." Turning to Bellatrix, he said, "Stay, my dear. The rest of you may leave." After the death eaters departed one after the other, the Dark Lord turned to the woman and said, "Your son will be staying until late. You may both stay here tonight."

"My lord," the woman smiled gleefully, getting up and kneeling before the Dark Lord.

----------

"Eww!" Neville exclaimed as he saw the Dark Lord and Bellatrix locked in a passionate kiss. "Let's go, Mort!"

"Yes, Snape would be waiting for us," Mort said as he pulled back the tiles and walked out, followed by his two new friends in complete awe of what they had just witnessed. "Remember, you cannot tell anyone that we saw this. This is our secret," he smiled as the two boys promised solemnly. Sharing a common secret, he knew, was one of the easiest ways of developing close friendship.

He led the two boys back into the manor and to the chamber where guest awaited the presence of the Lord. Severus Snape was standing patiently inside and on seeing the Apprentice, bowed deeply.

"Lord Apprentice!" he said respectfully.

Mort stifled an exclamation of annoyance and smirked at Draco who was rolling his eyes. Turning to Snape, he said, "You will be our teacher. It would not be proper for you to bow before me," he said with a small bow of his own. "My name is Mortimer Riddle and I am also known as Mort. I shall let you choose what to call me. How should we address you, sir?"

Snape regarded the boy with a raised eyebrow. He had expected to be treated as a lowly servant, the way a pureblood prince like Draco would treat his house elf but the apprentice completely surprised him with his maturity and respect for authority. He was further shocked to see Draco grin back at him. He knew that the boy's father had given him strict orders to behave as a proper pureblood in the presence of Mortimer. To act so freely implied that his new friend must have drawn him out of his mask. The heir was full of surprises for him. Looking at him, Snape gave a rare smile. "I am Severus Snape, the Potions Professor in Hogwarts. I am also Draco's godfather and he calls me Severus. It would honor me if the two of you also use my first name." Soon after, all of them were in the room specially assigned for their private lessons and Snape started lecturing them on the basics of Potion making, an art that he cherished.

"All of you have been instructed sufficiently by your parents or guardians on this art. You know how to make basic potions but do you understand the principles behind it? What happens when Boomslang skin is mixed with Monkswood, for instance? Or why a potion must be stirred in a specific manner. There is a deep reasoning behind it and I will teach you… Do you understand what I am trying to say? Mortimer?"

"Sir," Mort began, "I have read a few books on muggle Chemistry. They talk about reactions between specific compounds and elements such as iron or oxygen. Is that what you mean?"

"Precisely," Snape said with sudden vigor. "For all their faults, muggles have developed a keen understanding of the world with their sciences." Looking at Mort with renewed interest, he added, "If you know even the basics of chemistry, this is going to be an easy subject for you."