Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters nor the scenery which you could recognise, the only thing I take credit for is the plot.

Pairings: None for this chapter.

Warnings: DarkHarry, Dumbledore, Hermione, and Weasley bashing (excluding Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George).

Word Count: 7134

Harry stands in front of a long, rectangular table littered with multiple crystal vials filled with various potions, elixirs, and other liquids; leaving no doubt in the young saviour's mind that they had finally reached Professor Snape's contribution aiding to the Philosopher's Stone. However, as Harry reread the potion master's riddle, multiple other concerns fill his mind. Conflicting thoughts about the so-called 'protections', having the strangest feeling that it had all been designed for himself.

Firstly, there had been a door which opened with a spell taught to all first-year students leading to a Cerberus; a bed of Devil's Snare, again something else taught in First Year Herbology; a life-size chest, which, most definitely had been placed for Ronald as his talents at Chess had spread far and wide. Finally, there was this, a potions riddle which seems to be the hardest task out of them all only since many wizards are not the most logical beings.

So, there Harry stands, a small almost unnoticeable smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watches Hermione swallow her own potion before turning on her heels and walking hurriedly back through the doorway. Back tracking their progress without so much as a 'goodbye' or 'good luck' as she leaves to try to help the unconscious Ronald. She decided it was in their best interest if she would go back trying to find a professor to aid her ginger friend, it was almost as if she had no confidence in Harry.

So, there young Harry stands, Saviour of the wizarding world, Boy-Who-Lived, left to fend for himself against whoever or whatever is attempting to steal the stone. Shaking his head lightly, clearing the mass of swirling thoughts, Harry nonchalantly turns on his heels, downing his own potion without so much as a grimace before he walks through the flames in front of himself. Chuckling as he recalls both Hermione's and Ronald's thoughts about who the culprit was, both wrongly accusing Professor Snape.

His smile falls into a displeased frown, slowly morphing into a sneer as he cautiously walks his way through a long, dingy and strangely enough, empty corridor littered with what appears to be cobwebs and other such infractions. Many of which the boy didn't even want to think about as he stuffs his hands deep within his too baggy trouser pockets. Squinting his eyes, Harry lets a small smile tug at his lips when he catches sight of an archway, a low gleaming light casting eerie shadows, present, perhaps a much wider chamber.

"Stupid Dumbledork, sending a bunch of eleven-year-old children into this abysmal chamber, in hopes that we would be able to protect the Stone against someone much more experienced and advanced in magic. I mean seriously, is he senile? Like he actually believed that letter from the ministry."

Stopping just short of the entrance, Harry casts a glance around the large, circular chamber, eyebrows furrowed, and nose scrunched up in disgust. His mutterings continue, be damned if someone overheard him. Why should he care? It wasn't like the person was going to kill him or anything. Harry takes one step over the threshold, before another, slowly making his way towards the center of the room, his green eyes casting glances into the shadows warily.

"This is where the old coot is keeping the so-called Philosopher's Stone? One of the most powerful and mystical artifacts in the wizarding world, one which could reap havoc if found in the wrong hands and they decide to leave it in a school full of children? How stupid does he need to be? Does he not care for his student's safety? Oh! Sorry, or course not, why would he care about people he is just going to mould into good little light soldiers for his war!"

The small raven-haired boy releases a loud sigh, expelling some of his frustration as he continues to walk towards a familiar mirror which stands precariously in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

"Wow, conspicuous Dumbledork! Might as well have hung a couple of LED flashing signs indicating to where you have hidden the stone. What next? It seems to me that you are either attempting to discourage the theft or you just wanted to see one of your students terribly burnt."

Sarcasm laces the child's words as he shoots a subtle glance around the chamber, his Avada green eyes scanning the shadows thoroughly. Knowing that Professor Quirrel is watching him from deep within the black pattern-like shapes around the walls, hoping to catch a clue about how to reach the stone.

Harry allows a smirk to pull at his facial features, probably heard me talking to myself in the corridor and hid. Stopping a mere meter away from the Mirror of Erised, Harry looks expectantly into the glass not quite sure what he was to see yet knowing that his parents were not going to make any more appearances.

His parents had made a regular appearance throughout the year, well before Dumbledore had decided it was in his best interest to move the mirror to, apparently, the Chambers.

I do believe the old fool said I was to never see the mirror again. He was going to put it somewhere no one would be able to fall prey to their desires. Yet, here it is, standing in front of me in a chamber in which he sent me. Such a manipulative old man!

Now, however, Harry no longer sees his parents in the mirror's surface. The boy would simply explain that he had thought long and hard about the circumstances surrounding his parent's deaths, their actions leading up to it and the actions of others. After giving it months of deep contemplation, he had concluded that the death of his mum and dad was really no one's fault but their own.

Yes, Harry had initially blamed Lord Voldemort when he had first been told the story behind his orphaned status, though that was mainly due to surprise. He had spent 9 years of his life listening to his muggle Aunt and Uncle calling his parents 'good for nothing drunks' who died one day due to this habit, a traffic accident which had led to his infamous lightening scar.

But no, who should tell him, at the tender age of eleven, that a supposed mad-man, a maniac, the worse Dark wizard in British history aimed a bright green killing curse at his mum and dad but a bumbling oaf of a giant. Renowned 'light' supporter, completely devoted to the headmaster, all because the old coot gave him a job after his release from Azkaban, allowing him to do small bouts of magic though his wand had been broken decades ago.

So, what made young Harry Potter conclude that his parents were to blame? Firstly, his parents had decided to bring a child, himself, into the world during one of the worse Wizarding Wars in the history of magic and didn't even have enough adequate protection in place.

Secondly, they had gone into hiding, yes, they had the Fidelius charm on their home, okay, but did they really trust their secret keeper that much? Why did they not agree to make Dumbledore their secret keeper? If he is the almighty, Light Lord, the only one in which Lord Voldemort feared as so many wizards believed, then why not use him? Why did they not have an emergency portkey as a backup for when Voldemort did bypass their wards? His parents, he is sad to say, were far to Gryffindor, always hoping things were going to work out for the best, no need for self-preservation or back-up plans.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Harry realising that he had stood in front of the mirror for some time shakes his head minutely. Deciding to walk around the Mirror, inspecting the item for any clues about how he was going to collect the stone, Harry tucks his hand back into his pockets, delicate fingers curling around the slick wood of his wand. As he makes his way round, a shift from the shadows to his right enters his peripheral vision, a cloaked figure, carefully moving forwards, his tall frame half hidden behind one of the many pillars.

Ignoring the other, Harry focuses back on the artifact, trying to curb the bubble of laughter which wants to break free at the poor attempt at concealment. He knew the Professor was going already down here, knew the man was going to watch him subtly but did he have to make it so obvious? Shrugging off the man's presence, Harry shakes his head once more, still slowly making his way around the old mirror as his thoughts break free in a quiet mutter.

"Stupid Dumbledore, who does he think he is, sending children down into this death trap expecting me to fend off whoever is down here, that I have enough magic and experience to fight against the Dark Lord, a Dark Lord who has at least thirty years' experience more than I? I barely had time to learn the first-year spells with everything that has gone on this year and yet he still wants me to save the Stone? Why the hell should I? No one came to save me these past nine years, no one bothered to check to see if I was happy and looked after; fed and loved properly. Especially when I found that I had been left with those despicable Muggles. Their precious saviour left to fend for himself, never knowing about his heritage until a mere month before being thrown blind into a new world. He will survive, surely. Starve the boy! Neglect him! Beat him for things he doesn't understand, nor control!"

Harry comes to a stop back in front of the mirror, his small fists clenching tightly at his sides as he tries to breathe through his rising anger, he hadn't meant to say that out loud, not wanting to give his supposed enemy anything concrete to use against him. Though it seems to have given him some leeway as he watches the figure step hesitantly closer, his frame becoming that much clearer in the dark room although still obscured within the shadows.

Well, I have his complete attention now.

"Anyway, why did that old coot force me to become friends with that filthy Weasel and bucked tooth Mudblood? Ronald Weasley? Hah, a sad excuse for a wizard, if I ever did see one, not even having the brains nor the respect to hold up some of the most important ancient wizarding traditions. Favouring those muggle celebrations which come from religions which condemn us. His barely concealed jealousy, on top of all that. If he wants my fame that bad he can have it, I never asked for it and I don't want it! The weight of the entire wizarding world on my shoulders? No, thank you. It is not my fault his parents decided to have more children then could afford!"

Almost forgetting about the man listening to his every word, Harry begins to pace back and forth, his anger and frustration starting to leak into his tone as his hands clench tighter, his wand held between white knuckles. His skin prickles with raw magic as power swirls in his Avada green eyes making them glow in the dim chambers, sparks flying around him in concentrated waves makes his hair stand on ends as the figure draws in a sharp breath.

He lets out a humourless laugh as he turns on his heels, dragging a hand almost tirelessly through his unruly hair, trying to draw his magic back into his core as he watches his reflection in the surface of the mirror once more.

"Don't even get me started on that know-it-all, thinks she has to prove herself, show that she is the best just, so she feels like she belongs in the wizarding world? Well if she wants to belong then maybe she should stop trying to force her muggle customs on us all the time. Maybe she should adapt and practice some of the more traditional celebrations and rituals of the wizarding world."

Harry shuffles his feet across the dry-stone floor, staring at himself in frustration, irritated silence fills the chamber as he falls silent for a few seconds, the air presses around him as if trying to offer what comfort it could to the depressed wizard. Taking a few deep calming breathes, Harry releases a deep sigh, letting go of his anger before allowing a small Slytherin-like smirk to rest on his lips.

"Both are abominations to the wizarding world; wouldn't you agree, Lord Voldemort?"

Leaning to the left ever so slightly, Harry peers around the mirrors edge, smirk widening as the shadowy figure steps slowly out from his hiding place, walking around the pillar towards the small child. A matching smirk on his own face.

"That was a very… Informative speech, Young Harry Potter. I can tell that the old coot hasn't changed much from my time here at Hogwarts."

Harry's smirk turns into a small bashful smile, shocking the Dark Lord, as he looks curiously up at the man no standing less than two meters from his smaller stature, a man who had taught him Defence for the past year. He notices an underlying shine of… was that pride… in his Professor's eyes? Shrugging it off momentarily, Harry turns his attention back towards the mirror of Erised, letting his mask of indifference fall back into place, watching his reflection carefully while keeping a cautious eye on the person before him.

After standing in silence for a few seconds, Harry turns his head, cocking it to the side as he regards his Professor deeply.

"Hello Professor, would you be so kind as to allow me to speak to your Lord? There is something in which I must discuss with him."

A sudden movement catches his eye and Harry snaps his head back towards the mirror, watching with barely concealed glee as his reflection carefully places a smallish blood-red stone into his trouser pocket feeling the added weight instantly. Quirrell hesitates some, his eyes flickering around the chamber nervously before focusing back on the boy.

"I don't… don't know what… what you mean young… young mister Potter."

Harry narrows his eyes, glaring hatefully at his Professor, fingers tightening on the wand by his side preparing himself to defend if he needs to, his green eyes swirl with hidden powers laughing mentally when his teacher jumps backward, squeaking in fright.

"Would you stop with that infernal stuttering! You know full well what I speak of, but you seem to think you have a choice in the matter. There is nothing that I want from you, nothing that you could offer me. Now, let me speak to the Dark Lord before I curse you into oblivion."

Eyes growing impossibly wide at the pure hatred bleeding into the boy's voice, the underlying threats abundantly clear as the older wizard's tremors increase to such a degree that Harry wonders if the other would fall over. Mere seconds later, another voice cold and weak from possible lack of use cuts through the air, a harsh sounding noise.

"Let me speak to the boy!"

Harry feels his smirk return as he watches the terror overrun ever other emotion flickering through his defense professor's wide eyes with a pleasurable glee. Taking a few steps forward, watching in fascination as Quirrell begins to unwind his turban, letting the ugly purple fabric fall almost gracefully to the dust-covered floor. Eyes alight with amusement, Harry stares as his professor turns around, a quiet gasp falling from his lips when he distorted figure which had once been the Dark Lord, seemingly growing out the back of Quirrell's head.

"Ah, Harry Potter. It has been too long."

"Yes, 10 years I do believe. How have you been?"

Harry stands nonchalantly in front of the Dark Lord seemingly not bothered by his presence in the slightest; though Lord Voldemort, astonished to find the underlying tones of amusement lacing the young wizard's words, watches the raven-haired child. The raven-haired child notices the silent calculating gaze roaming his body but decides not the notice it as he sends a small happy smile towards the older man.

Lord Voldemort, however, looks for any sign that the young child standing before him was scare or was in some way frightened of himself. However, there was no such emotion in the young Gryffindor's eyes, no tension in his posture yet his wand is being held in his hand loosely, ready to leap into action if the need arose.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. What has bought you down to these chambers so late in the school year?"

Voldemort smirks as he watches the young boy's eyes flick towards the mirror for a split second before focusing back on himself.

"I am guessing it is the same reason you find yourself impersonating a professor all year, though seen as you are still down here and have watched my every move since I entered, I can safely assume that you have been unable to retrieve the stone?"

Lord Voldemort finds himself the young wizard in front of him again, wondering why he does not feel the urge to hex or curse the reason for his downfall. Maybe it was since young Harry reminds him of himself when he had first entered Hogwarts? Or maybe it was because not even his most trusted followers looked at him without fear? Admitting to himself that he rather liked the boy, he walks forward standing just behind Harry, placing Quirrell's hands on the boy's thin shoulders. Intrigue pulling when he watches the child flinch slightly, his face twisting in fear before it is quickly covered up by a soft almost shy smile.

"Yes, I do believe you are right, Harry. The old fool must have some trick on the mirror. I want that stone; it is my heart's desire to have it and use it to bring back my body, but I don't know how to retrieve it…"

Lord Voldemort squeezes Harry's shoulders gently, watching the child's innocent smile twist into a knowing smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief and slight uncertainty. Turning around slowly, Harry looks up at the man who had killed his parents, large hands still resting on his shoulders giving him a strange sense of safety. He tilts his head to the side at an angle giving off an air of complete innocence.

"What if I told you that I could get the stone for you?"

His voice, lacking it usual confidence, clouded with doubt and nerves, almost as if the child feared being hurt or attacked. Lord Voldemort raises an eyebrow at the small child, silently wondering where his confidence had gone before a sneer pulls at his lips.

"And pray tell, how a mere child would be able to retrieve such an artifact?"

"Trust me, I know how to get the stone, it is rather simple really. It is just the little matter of an exchange, if you will, I give you the stone in return for something."

"A proposition? What could a simple child ever have that would be worth my…"

Harry raises an eyebrow at the Dark Lord, slowly reaching into his trouser pocket with deliberate movements, making sure the older wizard was watching him closely as he pulls the large red stone out of its confines. Holding the ancient artifact on the level of his shoulders he watches which veiled amusement as Voldemort's gaze fixes on the object hungrily.

"I want to make a bargain with you."

Lord Voldemort growls low in his throat as he watches the boy play with the stone almost absently, his small fingers tracing each crack as he moves away from the Dark Lord's grip, taking a couple of measured steps backward. His Avada eyes never leaving that of Voldemort's ruby ones.

"Why should I not just kill you and take the stone?"

"I don't think you could at this point; not in your current situation. You are no doubt powerful, I can feel the power swirling around your form, but you cannot harm me. Whether it is a case of you simply can't or just that you just won't, I am not too sure. I could easily just place the stone back into the mirror where you are unable to reach it. I am sure, Mister Voldemort that you are able to kill me easily under normal circumstances, but these are not normal circumstances."

Lord Voldemort found himself staring, almost slack-jaw at the small Gryffindor now seated upon the floor in front of him, his mouth twitching with the urge to twist into a warm smile as he studies the child. He watches as Harry makes himself comfortable on the stone floor, despite almost being trapped between the mirror and the Dark Lord himself, his green eyes focus on the stone held gently between his hands, fingers tracing the small cracks.

"Bloody Gryffindor should have been a Slytherin…"

The Dark Lord mumbles, making Harry chuckle softly, still regarding the magical artifact in his small hands as he absently nods his head solemnly.

"Well, I think you should know that I was almost sorted into Slytherin; took me a while to argue with that hat and make it put me in Gryffindor. Stubborn thing!"

Lifting his head, Harry once again found himself laughing at the now gobsmacked expression on Lord Voldemort's face.

"Well since I came into the wizarding world, I knew there were plenty of expectations of me because I was the Boy-who-lived. A lion is easily spotted in the Snakes pit, but a snake is hard to find in the lion's den."

Harry pushes himself up off the floor, clutching the stone in one of his hands as he turns to face the Dark Lord, scrutinising the older wizard.

"Look, do you want this stone or not? I don't think it would be a good idea to stay here for long seen as the Mudblood ran off to fetch a teacher and I am sure they will be here soon."

Voldemort eyes the small child for a few more seconds in silence, sighing inwardly as Harry simply smiles up at him innocently.

"Alright, Little Snake."

He crouches down in front of the child, resting a hand on the boy's small, bony shoulders offering up a soft reassuring smile.

"What is it that you would like in exchange for the stone?"

He watches as the eleven-year-old looks down at the floor, his trembling hands gripping the stone tightly shoulders hunching forward as he begins to shake in what Voldemort could only assume was fear.

"Protection…"

The voice which spoke was timid and quiet, unlike what the Dark Lord had come to expect from the young child, a sound so quiet that he would have missed it if he hadn't been consciously listening for it. He watches in silence for a few seconds as Harry fidgets uncomfortably. Placing his other hand on the boy's shoulder in what he hopes is a calming gesture, he smiles softly, when wide green eyes look up at him in surprise.

"What do you need protection from, Little Snake?"

Lord Voldemort watches as Harry looks back down at his feet, the toes of his battered shoes scuffing along the floor, eyes filling subconsciously with tears which he refuses to let fall, he would not look weak in front of the Dark Lord. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he looks back up into the crimson eyes of Voldemort, trying to keep his emotions under wraps.

"My relatives."

The word filled with so much venom almost makes Voldemort reel back in shock.

"They are Muggles of the worse kind, they hate magic and by association, me. I get beaten and starved for what they believe as mistakes. I sleep in the cupboard under the stairs and have done for as long as I can remember. I was left outside on the doorstep in nothing but a basket and thin blanket. My cousin Dudley and his gang love to play a game called 'Harry hunting'. My aunt Petunia hits me with her frying pan or burns my hands on the hob when I make mistakes when cooking meals. My uncle Vernon is the worse, he thrashes when things at work go wrong, if I make better grades than Dudley and if I don't finish all of my chores on time."

Harry's voice breaks towards the end, the tears he had so desperately tried to hold back now streaming down his cheeks as his shoulders shake. The raven-haired boy stays silent, valiantly trying to stop his tears from falling to no avail. He makes no sounds except the occasional sniffle.

Lord Voldemort, however, uses the opportunity to investigate the boy's mind, glancing flashes of memories, some he had mentioned but others which were just as disturbing, just as horrendous. When he pulls out gently, he is seething, the old fool had done it again! Refused to take adequate care of a magical child entrusted into his care; did he not learn his lesson from what happened with Severus Snape or himself during their youth? The Dark Lord was so angry, he the temptation to kill the old fool right then increasing but, he had an emotionally distressed child to deal with first.

Slowly, so not to frighten the small child, the Dark Lord reaches forward, placing his hands gently under the child's arms, lifting him carefully off the floor before standing once more. Placing the much too small child comfortably on his hip, rubbing a hand calmly down Harry's spine, whispering in his ear hoping to stop the tears.

"It's okay Harry, they cannot reach you here. I promise that I will try to get you away from those despicable muggles as soon as I can, Little Snake. You will never be hurt by them again if I have anything to say about it."

Never in his life had Voldemort felt so saddened to see anyone crying like this but there was something special about the child in his arms that got to him. Swaying on the spot, Voldemort hugs the small child tightly against his chest, laying his cheek against the unruly dark locks. When he felt that Harry had calmed down enough, he pulls back stroking a hand down the boy's cheek, smiling gently when Harry leans into the touch.

"Alright Harry, I will not allow you to stay there any longer, alright? I will offer you my protection. Though I would like to offer something more if you are willing to oblige?"

Nodding his head slightly, Harry accepts the white, silk handkerchief the Dark Lord offers to him and wipes his eyes, whispering a soft 'thank you' when Voldemort motions for him to keep it. Wrapping his thin arms around the man's neck Harry smiles shyly.

"What did you have in mind, oh Dark one?"

Harry lets out a quiet giggle at the red eyes filled with amusement when they roll towards the ceiling playfully. Along with a muttered 'cheeky brat' under his breath, Lord Voldemort cards a gentle hand through the boy's hair smiling at the look of contentment relaxing the child's features.

"I am proposing an adoption. I will first need to complete the ritual to regain my body but once that is complete I will be able to come and collect you from your relatives' house. It should only be for a few days to a week, but I want you to remember that I will come and get you. If you consent to the adoption then we can go through with the blood ritual which will make you my son in both magic and blood; though I will need some witnesses for the ritual, I was thinking the Malfoy's and Severus Snape."

Harry stares at Lord Voldemort, a man who killed his parents, a man the entire wizarding world feared and yet here he was proposing to adopt the boy-who-lived. Tears of happiness form in the corners of Harry's eyes, flinging himself forward, Harry wraps his arms tightly around Lord Voldemort's neck laughing quietly through his tears.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

The Dark Lord laughs softly hugging the small child closer to his chest. Honestly, he breathed a sigh of reprieve, Dark Lord or not, he was apprehensive that Harry would not want to be adopted by the man who had taken his first family away, the man responsible for his current placement. Yet, here he was, hugging a tearful boy-who-lived, who was thanking him profusely.

"I will take that as a yes?"

Harry nods his head vigorously before pulling back, his head bowing as the Dark Lord watches him become slightly more unsure of himself, slightly more insecure.

"Well, only if you want me. I don't want to be a burden…"

Harry startles when a calloused hand cards through his hair before being replaced by a soft, feather-light kiss on his forehead, directly above his scar.

"I would be honoured and proud to call a child like you my son and heir Harry and I don't want you to think otherwise. You are special, you have shown that to me this evening. You are kind, caring and smart, yet cunning and sly when you need to be. The perfect Slytherin."

Lord Voldemort once again brings harry closer, rocking back and forth when fresh tears fall from the boy's eyes, the small head burying itself in the crook of his neck. He smiles softly when he feels the child nodding against his shoulder a warmth spreading through his chest.

"Thank you. Thank you, I would be happy to call myself your son."

Before the Dark Lord could respond to the now joyous child, whose excitement was now rolling off himself in waves, thunderous footsteps could be heard through the chamber leading towards the entrance at a hurried pace. Lord Voldemort froze, holding his soon-to-be son protectively against his chest as he waits silently.

"Mr. Potter, you are harder to track down than a…"

Turning sharply at the familiar voice, Voldemort allows a smirk to play on his lips as his eyes roam up and down the figure of the newcomer. He finds himself watching in guarded amusement as one of his most trusted followers surveys the scene before him then falls to his knee; bowing his head lowly and placing a hand across his chest, his silky baritone voice drifting through the chamber.

"My Lord."

Harry looks at his potions professor in wonder, his green eyes wide as he studies the man a glint of curiosity in his gaze as he turns to face the Dark Lord, Harry tilts his head to the side in silent question, not sure if he could ask anything just yet and not really wanting to talk in front of Snape.

Looking quickly towards his new charge, Voldemort takes pity on the small child whose eyes shone with underlying fear, answering his question in a gentle voice much to Snape's surprise.

"I informed you earlier about how Severus here is one of my most trusted followers?"

The Dark Lord questions, watching satisfied as Harry nods his head slowly, his gaze turning back to the still kneeling Severus as the Dark Lord continues, directing his speech towards the dour man.

"and I dare hope that his allegiances have not wavered in my long absence?"

"Of course not, My Lord. I have always remained faithful to yourself and your cause. I have managed to gather a range of information about Dumbledore and his Order in your absence."

Professor Snape looks up from where his head tilted, a question on his lips as his gaze flickers to the way his master is holding the Potter spawn protectively to his chest. The confusion plain on his face, though his gaze lingers on the young boy longer than the Dark Lord; his eyes taking in every detail, noting the slight reddening around his eyes and the tension in his small frame. He was broken out of his exploration by Lord Voldemort, meeting the pale blue eyes of his Lord.

"Severus, I would like for you to meet my soon-to-be son and heir. I have heard and seen the memories he possesses of his most abysmal living arrangements and refuse to let another wizarding child to be abused at the hands of ignorant muggles!"

Lord Voldemort watches his follower with calculating eyes; seeing the shock playing through his potion master's eyes, his face still retaining his expressionless Slytherin mask. He watches in silent amusement as Snape looks between the child and himself, his face shifting into confusion as if he were having an inner battle with himself.

"My Lord, Dumbledore had informed the staff that Mr. Potter here had lived with, a light wizarding family who treated him as if he were their own, spoiling him rotten. He told me how he was just like his father…"

Professor Snape breaks of uncertainly, his voice wavering as he watches his Lord shaking his head in sorrow, one of his hands rubbing, almost absently, up and down the child's back as he begins to tremble again, though the older relaxes at seeing no more tears.

"I am afraid to say Severus that you have been gravely misinformed. Young Harry has been neglected, Starved and beaten within an inch of his life, he has been mistreated since he was sent to live with his mother's sister, I do believe, at the tender age of fifteen months. Did you never notice how thin and small he in comparison to the others? Why he wears glasses when any normal wizarding family would have bought an eye correcting potion to fix his eyesight? Why he shies away from most physical contact and shrinks in on himself when he has more attention than he could want?"

A look of horror replaces itself on Severus' face, his eyes going wide as he stares at the still hiding form of Harry, his mind a jumble of thoughts all trying to dominate over others, pinching the bridge of his nose trying to ward off an impending headache, Severus looks towards his Lord.

"I am sorry, My Lord. Did you just say his Mother's sister?"

At the affirming action, he lets out a sound, a mix between a shout of disgust and a sob of despair, his head hanging low, hair obstructing his pale face as his voice comes out strained.

"Please, tell me this child has not spent the last 10 years in the care of Petunia Evans?"

Harry looks over at his potions professor in confusion.

"You know Aunt Petunia?"

The boy's voice was quiet and timid, but Severus caught the curious undertone, an innocent curiosity which had been leading him to misjudge Harry terribly. A boy who he had been too blinded to see, a boy he had failed to protect, despite his promise to Lily.

Severus felt his gut clench painfully as he nods slowly, all thoughts of the child shattering to pieces on the floor in front of himself. How could I have been so blind? How could I have never even thought that this child could be anything like his father?

"I met your mother a few years before we entered Hogwarts, she was one of my only true friends here and I treasured her dearly. Your aunt was a jealous, horse-faced girl who wrote several letters begging the Headmaster to allow her to attend Hogwarts as well, but he refused."

Harry watches his professor with rapt attention, his tremors easing with every word from the dour man and Lord Voldemort cannot be more grateful for that fact. The Dark wizard watches the interaction between the two in wonder, looking down startled when he receives a poke from the child in his arms, raising an arm in question. Harry smiles shyly, leans closer before whispering something in the Dark Lord's ear making him chuckle, much to Severus' amazement. The Dark Lord gestures for his follower to stand and walk forward, watching carefully as Harry shifts his place to better see the approaching man.

Stopping just short of his master, Severus looks down at his potion stained hands, clenching them together in front of himself, fearing the punishment he was sure to receive, though knowing he deserved nothing less.

"Professor?"

Snape looks up instantly at the quiet, insecure call to him, his eyes filling with deep remorse and regret as he lifts his head to regard the much too small child in his master's arms. Watching in silent amazement as Harry slowly untangles his arms from around the Dark Lord's neck, reaching out uncertainly towards his potions professor. Quickly looking towards his Lord, Severus allows a small smile to grace his lips when the man nods towards Harry and without another thought, Severus has an armful of the small raven-haired boy.

Clutching the child to his chest, Severus lets out a small choked sound, rocking his body from side to side gently, one hand holding the back of Harry's head, resting it against his shoulder as he buries his own face in the raven locks. His other hand wraps tightly around the boy's waist holding him against himself as if protecting him from the world.

"I am sorry Harry. So very sorry, I was blinded by my school boy hatred for your father, I do not ask for your forgiveness because I know that I do not forgive it, but I promise you that I will always protect you from now on."

Snape cards a hand through the child's hair, tears stinging the back of his eyes as he holds Harry tighter against himself, not paying attention to the gentle smile spreading across his master's face as he watches the two interact.

After a few more moments of silence, Harry pulls back, letting a small laugh loose as he gently wipes an escaped tear from the potions master's cheek.

"It is okay, Professor. My father must have been really horrible to you during your school years, I am so sorry, I am always being told how great a man he was but how can he be if he bullied someone for the type of person they are or what house they are in."

He smiles back at Lord Voldemort, who nods his head slightly towards the potions master. Returning his gaze Harry speaks again, his voice still small, timid and shy, his eyes not quite meeting Snape's.

"Though, I think I know a way for you to earn my forgiveness…"

Snape looks at the child, startled before a small smile graced his usually stern features, feeling Harry relax slightly as he did so.

"What is it, Harry? What would you have me do to atone for my past discretion?"

He watches almost mesmerized as those shining Avada green eyes look up to meet his own onyx ones, reminding him so much of Lily, Harry smiles softly up at him placing his hands gently around the man's neck almost as if he were afraid of being told off or pushed away.

"I want you to be one of the witnesses for the adoption ritual and I am entrusting you to make all the required potions. Along with any potions I will need to make me better and healthy."

Severus regards the child, hidden gratefulness deep in the depths of his dark eyes as he nods his head slowly, once again hugging the small child closer to his chest, placing a soft kiss to the boy's his eyes finally catching the soft smile on his Lord's face making his breath stutter in his chest.

"Of course, Harry. I would be honoured to bear witness to your adoption."

Watching once more in open amazement as Harry giggles leans forward and places a hesitant kiss to his professor's cheek before a pale blush covers the young boy's face in return.

Soon after, Lord Voldemort steps forward, placing a hand gently on his soon-to-be son's back and a comforting hand on Severus' shoulder smiling at them both when they turn their gazes towards him. He was surprised by how fast his potions master changed his attitude towards the young wizard, deciding to have a conversation with the man once he had regained his own body; he hugs the two close, much to Severus' surprise and embarrassment.

"Alright, my Little Snakelet. I will see you in a couple of weeks."

Voldemort says as he steps back out of the three-way hug, he places a gentle kiss to the young boy's forehead before turning his attention towards his follower, smirking at the still semi-shocked expression accompanied by a light blush.

"Severus, I want you to knock Harry out."

Catching the terrified look on Harry's face, he began to rub soothing circles on the child's back desperately trying to calm him down before he continues.

"Don't worry Snakelet, he will not harm you. It is just so that the old coot thinks you truly fought Professor Quirrell, it will keep you safe. I want you, Severus, to tell Dumbledore that you found Harry down here unconscious with the dead body of Professor Quirrell and the stone still in the mirror."

Seeing Severus and Harry both nodding along he smiles softly.

"I have bought a fake with me which I will place in the mirror before I go."

Seeing another nod of understanding from the professor, Lord Voldemort returns his gaze to Harry, who despite still looking unsure, smiles at the Dark Lord, giggling softly when he is lifted out of Severus' arms, much to the disappointment of said professor. The Dark Lord hugs the child close.

"Do not worry, Little One. Severus will take care of you these next few days here at school, nothing will happen to you."

Feeling a nod against his shoulder he presses on, running his hand continuously through Harry's hair to keep the boy calm.

"I will place a block on your memories which will keep Dumbledore from knowing anything that has happened in this chamber, he won't able to see your thoughts or feelings on the matter either."

Harry nods again, hugging his soon-to-be father tightly before pulling back offering another small smile to the man.

"Thank you, Father. I will see you soon."

Lord Voldemort places Harry on the floor, steadying the boy as he stumbles a little, he places a kiss on the child's forehead before plucking the red stone offered to him out of Harry's hands, pocketing it as he turns to Severus, his eyes serious.

"Look after him, Severus."

Bowing Lowly, Severus places a calming hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Of course, My Lord."

A/N

Sorry for not updating this story in a while, I have decided to revamp it all and so I have been editing the enitre thing as I am currently on my Christmas/winter holidays. It has been difficult trying to find the motivation to just sit down and write as I have been having trouble but now I am seeing a psychiatrist who is trying to help me through everything at the moment.

Please bear with me and I hope you all enjoy the newly written chapters.