Summary: Raised in an orphanage, Harry is adopted and taught to become a powerful Lord of Magic. Through rituals, lessons, balls and battles he grows stronger each day. However, he did not expect that being sent to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament would change his life completely. LV/HP WiP

A/N: Sorry about the bad summary. Hopefully I can revise it as the story progresses. I just wanted to say that Unraveling Fate is on a temporary Hiatus. I am hoping to get back into it when I am suffering a brain fart with this story. To all of you who are upset by this please don't bash this fiction. You can send me messages or comment in the reviews for that story.

This is my first slash fiction and I would appreciate that for all of you who don't find that appealing please just leave the story now. Flames crush any writer and I would prefer that mine are for something more than two guys getting it on.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine :(

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Thunder clashed, shaking the small three story orphanage that was on the outskirts of London. The rain slipped through the cracks of the old building and the chill of the wind was seeping into the bones of the children sleeping under ratty and thin blankets that barely covered the younger wards' toes.

Little Hadrian, a boy no older than seven, gazed out of the window above his thin mattress. The drops of the rain leaving a trail of tears on the plane as another bolt of lightning lit up the grounds. A figure in a black cloak followed a narrow path up to the orphanage doors, each strike of lightning brought the stranger closer and closer to the home of the unfortunate and the damned.

At last a knock on the thin oak door could be heard softly echoing through the halls of the boys and girls that slept in the cold and dampness.

Hadrian slipped from his bed, toes curling from the cold cement that was his floor, and swiftly snuck from his room and down the too tall steps of the stairs. He peaked around the corner and listen softly to the Matron and the mysterious stranger he seemed so drawn to.

They sat at a table sipping tea and brandy (at least Madam Thanny was). The cloaked figure sat facing the chubby wrinkled Matron.

"Madam this is most unusual! The hour is late and all the children are asleep. Why don't I set you up in one of our extra rooms and then you can see the children in the morning?"

A voice, soft and sweet, spoke, "That won't be necessary Madam. I can find what I am looking for without your aid." A woman, she spoke with a slight French accent. The hood of the cloak fell to her shoulders revealing long thick silver hair. "And not all of your children are asleep. The one that I am searching for is in fact on the stairs listening to us now."

Emerald eyes widening Harry turned and started to run up the stairs when a hand clamped onto the back of his neck turning him around quickly. The young boy gasped as he gazed into the face of a young woman who had somehow appeared right behind him. She looked no older then sixteen. She was the most beautiful person that he had ever seen. Her eyes were the color of mother of pearl, big and bright and her lips were plump and pink. She was small and pale yet her grip was strong as she grabbed his chin and forced his eyes to stare into hers.

As he gawked at the woman she, in turn, critically scanned the child in front of her. He was far too small for his age and extremely skinny. His hair was a thick, untamed mass of ebony curls and his eyes were a glittering green. She would never have believed that he was nearly eight if not for the profile that she had of him. Hadrian Doe, seven, preferred name Harry, found at the Hollow Road Orphanage on January 1st 1982, suspected age of arrival: one, black hair and green eyes.

"Hello Hadrian," she said. "I have come to take you away from here. Would you like to come with me?"

The young boy blinked at her, his eyes guarded and confused. "Why?" he asked simply. He stared past her at Madam Thanny who seemed to be frozen, the glass of brandy held up to her lips. She did not blink or seem to even notice him gazing at her. He turned back to the woman in front of him.

She twisted her lips into what would be considered a smile. "You are a very powerful little boy, Hadrian. I want to raise you into an even more powerful man."

"But I am just Harry."

The silver haired woman raised her hand to his cheek; her red nails trailing from his temple to his jaw. "For now, maybe. But when I am done, you shall be the most powerful wizard of all eternity."

Harry jerked back, but her grip on his jaw and arm held him in her grasp. He shook his head in denial. "Magic doesn't exist. It is blasphemous."

Crystal eyes bore into the emerald ones. "What is blasphemous, little Hadrian, is that a wizard child knows nothing of his heritage, his culture, his family."

"You knew my parents?" he asked in wonder.

"I could guess who they are now that I have seen you; yet, they do not matter. I will be your mother, your father, your sister and your brother. I will be everything you ever need."

"I don't believe you," Harry spoke softly.

She merely raised a thin white eyebrow and flung out her arm, a thin pale wand appearing from her sleeve into her hand. Turning to face the Matron she twirled her wand in an arc over her body before make a slashing motion.

Quite suddenly a red line appeared beneath the chin of Madam Thanny. As blood began to seep slowly from the wound to drop with a patter on the grey floor she did not make a sound, still frozen with her glass raised to her lips.

The pale woman turned back to Harry's wide, confused eyes. She smiled crookedly and stood tall from her kneeling position. "She harmed you, no? That bruise on your cheek was from her hand, was it not? She called you le diable, the devil."

His breath came out in short little gasps as his lips quivered. The Matron, at last, dropped her glass and slumped forward onto the kitchen table, staining the wood red. "How do you know?"

"I am a witch, mon bébé. I know many things; things that I can teach you. Just know this, little Hadrian. Know that I shall never let another person harm you. This I promise. Now will you come with me? I have much to teach you for you have much to learn."

Hadrian gazed up at the hand she held out to him. It was small and looked as if she had never had a hard day of labor in her life, much unlike the calloused hands of the seven year old. He reached toward her; yet, before he grasped her hand he asked softly, "Who are you?"

She leaned forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward her before lifting him into her arms. "My name is Circe Lebeau, but you, my love, may call me Mother."

And for the first time that Harry could ever remember he felt like someone could care about him. So he curled his arms around Circe's thin long neck, his nose pressed into her soft hair and smiled.

Three years later.

Harry stood gazing out at the blue sea that surrounded the villa on the beach in Fiji he and Circe had called home for the past year. After she had taken him from the old grey building that he had been his jail for six years they had travelled from place to place, learning magic, cultures and languages.

Walking through the giant arches out onto the patio that led to the white sand and warm water, Harry closed his eyes as a rush of salty air tickled his nose. Wearing a breezy light blue robe his bare feet peaked out from the thin material. He had learned what being a wizard meant and learned why Circe wanted him so badly.

A memory flashed past his eyes. They had traveled to a castle in the mountains of Alpamayo in Peru when Harry had first joined with the woman he now considered his mother. A week after their arrival they sat in an elegant hall, sipping warm tea and discussing his future.

Circe smiled as Harry gazed around the magnificent castle; at the imposing pillars and stained glass windows in wonder. "Hadrian, my child, I think it is time I explained why I claimed you."

He turned back to her.

"You are here, my love, because you have the power to become a Lord; whether it is the Light or Dark Lord I do not care; however, you will be the most powerful of them all."

Harry gulped audibly. "What if you are wrong?" he almost whispered, looking down at the steaming cup in his hands.

She clucked her tongue. "Always look into the eyes of the person you are conversing with. It is a sign of weakness if you refuse to look. Now the reason I know you will be the most powerful Lord is because I will train you."

His eyes immediately stared into hers. "I just don't understand."

"My beautiful one, every Lord in the past thousand years has struggled learning their powers and testing their influence. They are forced to struggle in order to thrive and I believe that if they could have learned from someone and trusted in their teacher to guide them they could have been unstoppable. You must earn your place in history. Like so many Lords and Ladies before you, you will overpower a Lord, claim his throne and rule his people."

He blushed, but did not look away from her eyes, bright with her power. "So you saved me in order to teach me."

She nodded in approval. "Yes, ma ine jeune, I shall teach you how to be a Lord. You will be unstoppable because no other Lord will have your teachings." He squinted and blinked several times, the urge to rub his strained eyes apparent.

Setting her glass on the intricate table cloth of woven gold and silk, she reached for him, brushing his fringe to reveal his eyes better. "Do you need glasses, my love?" Circe asked gently.

Harry looked away, only to feel a sharp tap on his cheek. His eyes immediately fastened to hers. "Eye contact, Hadrian, do not forget. Now do you need glasses?"

He nodded, "Yes."

She smiled. "Then the first bout of magic you shall learn will be a ritual to gain perfect eye sight. For now I shall lead you through the process, but as you learn more we will perform more rituals to unlock your powers and make you stronger and you will perform them yourself."

Harry looked terrified, but he nodded slowly.

Clasping her hands together, red nails clinked gently. "Excellent! Now we must find a proper sacrifice; however, that shall wait till tomorrow. You need your rest, my little one."

Standing with a slight stumble that caused Circe to wince at the un-gracefulness of her charge, Harry turned to rush from the room only to stop before reaching the door. "Circe?" he asked as he turned back to face her.

She was staring past him, her eyes unseeing. After a moment she turned to face her new ward, "Yes, ma belle? And please call me Mother."

"Would I have become a Lord if I stayed at the orphanage, Mother?"

She smiled, her teeth sharp and sparkling. "Oh yes, my dear one. I dare believe that you would have been one of the powerful Lords that rise once every generation."

Harry hugged his stomach, but stood straight and tall, like she had coached him the first night they had arrived. "Then why do you want to teach me? I would have learned anyway."

"Do you wish to go back? To be surrounded by all those who will hinder you?" she asked sharply.

He shook his head quickly. "No! I want to stay with you. I just also want to know."

Circe brushed a thick strand of silver hair from her face. "The current Lords of Britain and the Lord in China all suffered alone. They either lost their parents or they were abandoned. To be forced to grow up and never truly understand what it means to be a Lord till they were old and set in their ways. They did not change the world they rule. You shall. You will enter this world and you will thrive and change it and then tear it apart and rebuild it again."

Harry nodded once more. "Will you teach me about the other Lords? You said I must fight them for my place. Will you help me?"

She smiled the most serene smile that he had ever seen in the short time that they had known each other. "Of course, my Hadrian. I will help you on your way to greatness. I will teach you and guide you, but it will be you alone who will make your own place in history. You will earn your right to rule. But I will be there always, at your side and from afar. In the end I shall be yours as much as you are mine.

"But do not think that this will be easy. You will suffer and hate me, but you will also love me and cherish me. You will feel pain and cause pain. You will give life and you will end it."

Eyes wide, Harry stared unblinking as Circe stood with a grace that made it appear as if she glided across the floor. Her robe trailed behind her as she finally reached him. Smoothing his midnight curls, she tilted his head back and gazed down into his emerald eyes. "Does that scare you? That you will have to kill?"

Tears started to fill his eyes, but they did not fall. "Yes," he whispered.

She smirked. "Good. It is only those who have no passion, no strive to thrive and prosper, that do not fear tearing their soul."

Turning the young boy away from her and pushing him gently toward the hall to his room, her hand untangling from his locks, she grinned. "Do not fear, mon petit. You shall not kill yet. I will be the one who extinguishes the life from your sacrifice tomorrow. It will be quite some time before I let you end another's existence. Now rest. We will find you a suitable pair of eyes tomorrow."

Sure enough the next morning a young girl and a tall man arrived. Harry was explained that the man was a vampire and was able to see better in the dark than any other creature on earth. The girl had perfect sight and once the vampire drained her of blood his would be used in the ritual to grant Harry with the perfect sight.

That night it took him ages to sleep. He kept telling himself it was because his room was glowing an odd green in the dark; yet in his heart he knew it was from watching his new mother paint the mixed blood of the vampire and his victim into runes on the ground and his body.

Suddenly Harry was thrown out of his memories as he felt a wand touch the base of his neck. Stiffening all over he turned slowly as Circe re-sheathed her wand. "You would have been dead, my love, if I was an assassin."

He nodded. "I am sorry, Mother. I was lost in my thoughts."

She smiled, "Now in French."

"Je suis désolé, maman. J'étais perdu dans mes pensées."

"Spanish."

"Lo siento, mamá. Yo estaba perdido en mis pensamientos."

"Czech."

"Je mi líto, matko. Byl jsem ztracen ve svých myšlenkách."

"Hungarian."

"Mi a helyzet az arab, vagy olasz?" He asked if she would prefer Arabic or Italian as well. Harry had learned nearly thirty languages through rituals, lessons and books since he came to live with her.

Circe shook her head. She looked the exact same as she did the night she had come to take him away from his orphanage. Harry had changed greatly. His eyes were clearer with specks of blue and red that was a result of the ritual they had performed nearly three years previously. His hair barely brushed his shoulders and he had gained some muscles in his thin arms and legs.

"Join me for breakfast," she demanded and led him out of the giant room that had been his since they had arrived. Walking through the bright halls with its marble floors they finally reached a room with a long thin dining table that had been ladled with foods. Throughout his time with Circe he had never seen a servant or a house-elf. Everything was always prepared out of his sight and cleaned up once he was gone.

Sitting in the open dining hall the sea breeze blew the thin gold shear curtains revealing the stunning beach and sea that surrounded their villa. Exotic flowers trailed up the steps into the dining hall, growing up the walls and twisting around the pillars throughout the room.

Taking small delicate bites of the soft fish that was placed before him Harry watched as his mother sipped on a glass of champagne. "Is it not early, Mother? To be drinking that is."

She merely took another small sip and set the glass down gently before lifting her fork. "Maybe here it is, but it is nearly evening in South Africa."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Are we leaving for South Africa, Mother?"

Circe nodded, dabbing her lips gently with her thick white napkin. "To the Amazon, my child. We are now going to be focusing on the animals that live there and the tribal magic of some of the wizarding societies that still thrive."

"I assumed we would be here for some more time. We were in Peru for nearly two years before leaving. I thought we had all the time in the world."

She smiled. "Do you like Fiji, my darling?"

"It is beautiful, Mother. You cannot deny that."

Circe bit into a thick red strawberry, chewing slowly before answering, "Of course it is beautiful. Everywhere we shall live will be beautiful. And you may come back once you rule and claim this island as your own; yet, it is time to move on."

Harry agreed, "I understand. It just seems a bit rushed. Is there any reason for our hasty departure?"

"In a year several schools will be sending you invitations to attend their institutes. I want to finish preparing you before I let you roam free."

Harry twirled his knife into the soft butter before spreading it across the warm bread that appeared on his plate. "I thought we were never to be parted through my training years. Why will I need to attend a school when I shall learn much more from you?"

"You need to learn to interact with others. While in the Amazon we shall make some trips to Chile to attend some wizarding events there. Once you have mastered the world of the aristocrats you will be sent to a school to meet others your age who will eventually become your first followers."

Circe stood suddenly, her silver gown sweeping around her and her jewels sparkling in the sunlight. Harry stood, much more gracefully then when he had first came to live with his mother, holding out his hand to meet hers and grazing his lips across her knuckles. She smiled as he straightened. "Today is your tenth birthday, my child. Once we arrive I shall have a feast prepared for our celebration. Let us pack now. We have one last lesson before we leave Fiji."

Nodding in agreement, Harry swiftly strode to his room. Waving his wand, a gift from Circe for his eighth birthday, he spoke the incantations to pack his clothes and valuables before admiring the room. It was much more open and warm than his room in the mountains of Peru and it would be hard to leave, but he knew that Circe was always looking out for him. This trip was needed if he was to rule.

It had taken nearly a year for Harry to come to the realization that he would actually rule someday. When Circe had begun to talk of it their first week together he had never truly believed that he was going to ever be as powerful as she claimed. His doubts had held him back and then one day they had been studying by the fire when he had used his wand to make the flames dance across the floor, forming shapes and scenes that took his breath away.

Circe had beamed and they had celebrated with games and songs the rest of the night, flames dancing around their feet. She had finally tucked him into bed with the promise that if he loved magic as much as it seemed to love him then he would be unstoppable. And from that day on he tried harder to show his mother and his magic how much he took the lessons to heart and how much their love meant to him.

Once he had finished packing and saying goodbye to the island he entered the ballroom that Circe used for all their rituals and lessons.

She was standing in the center of a large pentagram that took up nearly half the of the dance floor. Salt that had been purged from the sea formed the lines and candles were placed throughout the room. Turning toward her son Circe nodded to the boy that was slowly becoming a man before her. In a few years' time he would be ready to face the world without her whispering in his ear. Hugging him gently she grasped his shoulders in her unnaturally strong grip.

"You will be preforming this ritual without my aid, my beautiful one. Today you will learn the language of the sea. Now come meet your sacrifice."

It was a tradition. They would always meet the person or creature that was to sacrifice their life for whatever ritual they would perform. Most did not care to meet the people that would end their lives, but some had come willingly, tired of their existence and seeking peace.

This time it was a mermaid that was several hundred years old. She was huge and wrinkled, serene at the prospect of death. According to Circe, she was a willing sacrifice that had come to the shore to watch Hadrian and his mother duel and had fallen in love with the dense thick magic of the young student.

"Come, ma cherie. Light the candles."

Holding up the tip of his wand to his lips, Harry cupped his hand around it and began to blow. After a few puffs the end of his wand came aflame. He knelt down before the magnificent creature before him and lit the candle that was next to her head. All the candles throughout the room burst into flames with a sharp spark.

Extinguishing the flame at the end of his wand, Harry lift the ritual knifes and began to chant to the god of the sea, promising the blood of the mermaid before him as a tribute to the god, in hopes that he could learn the language of the Mermish.

Once the life blood was spilt and the runes painted on his body, Harry stood in the center of the pentagram. He waved his wand engulfing the mermaid in thick fire. Chanting louder he lifted his arms above his head and felt waves of magic pierce his body. When the ritual was finished Harry remained in the center of the pentagram. His magic hummed and his body shook. At last he rose and stumbled into his mother's arms.

"You were a sight, my child. I could not have been more proud. Rest your eyes now, me amour. When you wake we shall be in South America, in a plantation house I was able to obtain. Sleep, my Hadrian, and dream of the sea.

So for the next year they traveled throughout the Amazon, sometimes staying in tents high in the trees. Other times they slept in a huge plantation house deep in the forest. They would travel to Chile and Ecuador, visiting tribes and magical communities. Once they even went to America, to attend a ball for the upcoming election. It was all very surreal for Harry, who had spent three years alone with only Circe for company, to be thrown into events, balls and parties, surrounded by hundreds of witches and wizards.

A week before Harry's eleventh birthday, Circe sat with him in his room. She was watching him work out a magical puzzle, similar to that of a rubix cube. "My darling, your birthday is in one week."

Harry paused, turning to look at his mother and setting the cube down on the table next to his bed. "I know," he spoke clearly.

"I am sure you do. Before we decide which school you shall attend I have much to tell you."

"What is it, Mother?" he asked.

She rose from the bed to look out one of the windows. The moon was crescent and the stars were bright. "I have considered which schools I am willing to send you to. Two of them teach primarily Light magics and one teaches mostly Dark. Two of those schools will send you an invitation under the name Hadrian Labeau. One will send it under your birth name."

Harry straightened instantly. He had always questioned her about where he had come from and Circe had always refused to explain, only telling him that it did not matter because she was his parents, his family.

He dared not speak in case she would not continue. Sighing, Circe turned to face him. "Your parents supported the Light Lord. Under his command they placed you in hiding with your mother's sister. You had already been so powerful when your mother gave birth to you. Your first scream broke every window on that hospital floor. They feared for your life and they feared your power. So they sent you away, to grow ignorant of your powers till your eleventh birthday when they would claim you.

"Most children that are raised in a non-magical community suffer from blocks their magic builds in order to survive. It unconsciously is aware that you will be targeted and in danger if you let your magic run free while being cared for by Muggles. It is the more humane way of curbing someone's magical ability. It is something that Light Lords have done in the past to hinder those who could rival them."

"How would the Dark Lords?" Harry interrupted.

Circe brushed his cheek gently. "They would kill them."

Gulping nervously Harry nodded for her to continue. "You had caught the Dark Lord's interest regardless and yet he did not hunt for you. It was always my belief that he wished you to join his side once you realized the crimes committed against you.

"It did not take me long to figure out who you were, my child. You look very much like your father and after a few quick spells I was able to determine that you were indeed the child of James Potter and his wife Lily Potter."

Harry closed his eyes. Harry Potter. Hadrian Potter. At last he knew his birth name. For most of his life he had believed it to be Harry Doe and then he had grown into Hadrian Labeau. It was odd now to know the truth.

Opening his eyes, he gazed up at Circe, who still had a hand pressed to his cheek. "What now, Mother?" he asked.

Her lips twisted into a half smirk half grin. "Regardless of your choice, I am far too possessive of you, my dear one. You will remain my son always. Though if I must share you then so be it."

Moving out of her grip he walked toward the fire place in the center of his room. Its flames rose higher as he stepped closer. "I don't think I could ever be parted from you, Mother. I am just as possessive of you as you are of me."

Turning to face her, his hands clasped behind his back, she grinned. "Then attend Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. I will be able to visit regularly and plus I have always preferred you speaking French."

A week later Harry Labeau accepted the invitation to Beauxbatons and he burned the letter to Hogwarts. Inside the old castle a distraught Headmaster watched as Hadrian Potter's name vanished from the enrollment book. James and Lily were not going to be happy.

Circe and Harry arrived at the stunningly beautiful palace a week before classes started and were led to a private set of rooms. The Headmistress allowed Circe to remain on the grounds throughout the time Harry spent attending her institution and although it had been something unheard of for a parent to travel with their child to the school no one seemed to question it.

And for the next three years Harry attended classes with several students his own age, despite the fact that he was at a far different skill level. Circe still taught him lessons regularly and was never too far if he ever needed her.

After his arrival to Beauxbatons several letters started arriving for Circe. She would always read them with a small smirk on her lips before throwing them into the fire in her chambers.

"Why do you always burn the letters, Mother?" Harry asked one evening after a particularly long lesson.

Shutting the book that she had been reading, Circe calmly answered him, "Most are from some influential wizard and witches that are seeking my company. It has been quite some time since I have been in Europe."

"You don't want to see them?"

Tilting her head to the side, her long straight hair cascaded down her back. "No, mon petit, I do not want to be in their company, at least until we are both ready to be there. They will no doubt wish to meet you."

Life became much of a routine after that. Each morning Harry attended classes with the other students though he had ended up skipping a grade ahead between second and third year. After his lessons he would wander to a tower on the north side of the palace that overlooked the majestic gardens and have lessons with his mother.

It was not till Beauxbatons was invited to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament that things started to change.

A/N: As some of you read earlier I am putting Unraveling Fate on a short Hiatus. I just don't feel the desire to write it as much I did anymore. And I know several of you will be upset, especially since I took several of the chapters down. Maybe I will put them back up for you, though some of them are quite dreadful. Oh well, let me know what you prefer!

This is a Voldemort/Harry slash fiction and for anyone that offends, well, you can read something else. I want to try my hand at this and I hope most of the people that read it enjoy it.

Also let me know if there are too many pet names throughout the chapter. I just envision Circe being the almost fake, doesn't really know how to show affection type. If the rituals bug you, well, I am trying to show that they are willing to do anything (even the most illegal magics) to succeed. More will be explained throughout the fiction.

Lastly, I am sure some of you are confused and I ask that you please be patient. Several things will be explained in the next few chapters, I just wanted this chapter to focus on showing the history between Harry and Circe and why he is going to act the way that he will throughout the fiction. Voldemort will be in the next chapter though it will be some time before anything truly smutty or fluffy happens.

P.S. I have not decided if Harry is to become a Light Lord or a Dark Lord. Let me know if you have a preference!

Once again, THANK YOU FOR READING :) and please review!