prologue

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PROLOGUE.




"A child great enough to serve the Dark Lord approaches at the end of the year's life. Born not of Slytherin, but an heir he shall be. Born not dark, nor truly light, a blank canvas ready to be painted on. The paint, his influences, will decide if he becomes the Dark Lord's greatest asset or his Achilles' heel..."


The prophecy rings in Lord Voldemort's ears as he stares down at the young child, who seems completely oblivious to the death that seeps through his house. The child, also, seems oblivious to what stands before him, instead smiling up at the serpentine man. He even cooes happily, holding up one of his stuffed teddies for Lord Voldemort to take. The Dark Lord doesn't know what to make of it, having expected something a little more... weapon-like to be sitting in front of him. He'd known it was a baby, but this baby. He certainly can't sense anything remarkable about him. Perhaps his complete lack of fear, but he is still a small child. The boy likely doesn't even realise what is happening. But it has to be him. All signs point to it being this child.

"Of impure blood like the Dark Lord, of family like Him, the opportunity for a different upbringing promises greatness. Such power rests within the Dark Lord's grasp, a devoted son willing to risk anything, willing to give all. Should it only be taken..."

And taken, it shall. With a small nod of his head, Voldemort has Severus approach the cot. The child seems unsure of the newcomer, but allows himself to be lifted up into the professor's arms. The boy, held awkwardly, glances over Severus's shoulder before turning so he can look at Lord Voldemort once again. He stretches his hands out, still holding his toy.

"My Lord, I believe he wishes to be held by you." Voldemort stares at Severus for one long second, unsure whether the statement was some poor joke that should be reprimanded or a genuine comment. The boy, seemingly in support of Severus, continues to hold his arms out. But the Dark Lord shakes his head.

"We don't have time to waste on the desires of a child. Come, we must return." With a nod and little further explanation, both Severus and the Dark Lord disappear from their places in the bedroom with the child, leaving behind no one who might mourn his disappearance.








"He may be unremarkable for now, but he has magic and that is enough. He has time to grow into his strength." Lord Voldemort comments as he stares down at the now sleeping child. A pregnant Narcissa had seen to it that he'd settle easily into his new bedroom, tastefully decorated for the small child. Only a few carefully chosen individuals are in the room with the pair, the most trusted, the most necessary of the inner circle—Severus, the Malfoys, and Lestrange. Only they would know of his beginnings, of the history he was born with. But Lord Voldemort would see to it that everyone else didn't see that, and only saw the powerful heir that would sit beside him and help establish his position. "He will have to be trained, when the time comes. But here, he will flourish. Had he been left in that house, it would have taken years longer for his powers to be realised..."

The serpentine man's eyes travel across the small form, so vulnerable and yet totally at ease. The boy shifts slightly in his sleep, licking his lips softly, before settling back into his doll-like state. Voldemort draws his wand in one swift movement, barely even rustling his robes. His entourage watch on silently, perhaps with bated breath, as he cuts a thin line across his finger and allows one drop of blood to float in the air above the boy. The wound is healed before any more has a chance to drip out.

"My heir will not be burdened with the names of his past. Tonight, he will be born anew. Hades, I name him. He will bear the Slytherin name and, as I bestow upon him a drop of my blood, so shall he bear the inheritance of such a name." The drop of blood, still hovering above the cot, begins to glow as a golden hue takes over it. It soon no longer even resembles blood, rather a bright ball of light. The light trickles down in thin strings, surrounding the still sleeping child, enveloping him in its warmth. It soon fades away as if it was never even there. Outwardly, there's no sign that anything has changed. However, internally, Voldemort feels something shift as he stares down at the newly named Hades. It isn't love, nothing of that sort, but it's likely the closest he'll ever feel to anything remotely paternal. Pride, perhaps, of what he can see this boy becoming; a desire to protect the pieces of himself, of which a drop now lives within this young child. Before, he was just a child, but now he is Hades. And Hades is Voldemort's.

"Hades is an excellent name, My Lord." Lucius, of course, is the first to break the silence with his compliment. Voldemort simply nods, as he knows it is. He did choose the name, after all.

"Fetch the boy his gift, Severus." With a curt nod, Severus leaves the room, only to return a few short seconds with a small, black snake held gingerly in his hands. He pauses at the cot, before a quick gesture from the Dark Lord compels him to place it in the cot beside the child. The snake looks around slowly, tongue flickering out rapidly, before it looks towards Voldemort. The Dark Lord slips easily into Parseltongue, "Serve the boy well. He is your master now."

The snake lowers her head slowly as if in a nod, before settling down beside the boy. The venomous snake will protect the boy as he grows into his own defensive powers. When Voldemort can't be around to do it himself, or trust that the boy will be able to keep those that wish him harm away, the snake will do just fine. Though that will hardly be necessary. Voldemort doesn't plan to keep such a valuable weapon out of his sights unless completely unavoidable.

Only he himself can be truly trusted to raise him right.







AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Oh boy, I don't like writing prophecies. That being said, hopefully it justifies Voldemort's actions. That's what's most important

But haha funny Voldemort plans to stick around and raise his son. That'll last long

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