Lord Daddy ✅

Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - In which Harry is adopted, the Death Eaters are big softies and Voldemort is in denial

"Avada Kedavra"

Lily Potter's hair fanned out when she fell down, but Voldemort ignored her and walked to the crib, where the child who was apparently destined to be his downfall was looking on, chewing on his thumb.

He was already saying the words that would have rid him of the child, when he felt something inside him shake. In response to the cold-bloodied murder, a little piece separated itself from his already mistreated soul, and latched onto the nearest living thing in the room. Harry.

In vain he tried to stop it, to force it back where it belonged, but it was too late and the curse that had left his lips was already directed at the baby, and consequently at his fragment of soul. He couldn't quite imagine the results of casting a killing curse on his own soul, but he just knew they wouldn't be good.

As if time had dilated around him, Voldemort extended his arm towards the green magic speeding in the direction of the blasted prophecy baby, and with a blood-curdling scream tried to disperse it.

He almost succeeded, the magic being absorbed by the furniture and the walls, which cracked and trembled, but he used so much of his remaining power that by all means he should have died.

Of course being the Dark Lord, and a farsighted one at that, he didn't die. But his body was little more than brittle bones and a thin layer of skin held together by his spirit. Panting with effort, he grabbed the baby who carried a piece of his soul, and used the last ounce of his magic to apparate back to Riddle Manor.

He could have left Harry Potter there to rot, but he had a very detailed, very unpleasant image of how things could go if he left the child prophesied to kill him, carrying a piece of his soul there for Dumbledore to find.

As soon as he hit the stone floor he heard Wormtail, who had just escaped after framing Sirius Black, whimper and kneel before him. He managed to wheeze "Ritual of Rebirth, third shelf on the right," before losing consciousness.

Wormtail shot a look at his master, then at the baby, and hurried to comply.

After everything was prepared, and some additional research was done, he performed the Rebirth Ritual, cutting off his arm, spilling blood of the enemy forcibly taken from some prisoners in the dungeons of the Manor, and said the words.

Wormtail lowered Voldemort - who was just about a skeleton with a spirit by now - into the cauldron, and sparks and white steam emanated from it.

Finally, the Dark Lord's newly fashioned body rose slowly, white, tall and serpentine.

Harry's happy giggles were the soundtrack of his resurrection.

Voldemort rubbed the bridge of his new, and rather flat, nose. He ha the feeling that with a baby around his moments of glory were going to decrease consistently. "Robe me," he ordered resignedly to his servant, who was too busy writhing in agony on the floor to listen to him.

"Wormtail!" he called with his high, cold voice "Robe me, you fool,"

The short little man howled, holding his bleeding stump and ignoring his master.

"Oh for the love of-..." He picked up his wand, cauterized the wound and fashioned a new, silvery and functional hand for his follower.

"Now, robe me, you cretin,"

Because he could have done it himself but this way he created an atmosphere of servitude, fear and solemn power.

If you ignored Harry's ectatic squeals and clucks, that is.