"Did you get him, my Lord?"

"Indeed I did, Lucius.  It was as easy as I said it would be, though the Potters were a bit of a bother; but, no longer."  Voldemort smiled wickedly down at the bundle in his arms.

"They are dead?" Lucius' face lit up briefly and Voldemort chuckled, making Lucius shiver.  Voldemort's chuckle was not a pleasant sound.

"They are.  Giving their lives for their son…how pointless, when it was obvious I would have the child either way," He snarled.

Lucius' face darkened slightly before asking the question that had been plaguing him since the first stages of the plan.  "Forgive me, my lord, but…what are you going to do with the child?"

Voldemort turned his back on Lucius and began to walk out of the room before he answered.  "Why, raise him, of course."

"Raise him?  But, my Lord –"

"Do not question me, worm!"  Voldemort's eyes flashed as he turned back to Lucius.  "It's very possible that this boy could become even more powerful than myself.  I want that kind of power on a leash at my side, not free as my enemy!  Do not defy me! Crucio!"

Letting up on the curse at length, Voldemort looked down at the still sleeping face of his late enemies' child as he listened to the sounds of Lucius screams fading slowly.  "Now, my boy, you shall shine with the glory you were made for, not withered by parents who would never understand your greatness."  The child slept on, oblivious to the sound of the earlier screams.  "But what shall I call you?"  Voldemort looked out a dark window at the silky night sky outside.

"That's it.  Niger Noctum.  Black Night…my secret weapon."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three years previous to this, an older gentleman sat at a table in a shabby bar called the Hog's Head with the granddaughter of a great seer.  The man, who was called Dumbledore, sighed quietly as he finished the interview with her.  Sadly, she seemed to have none of the talent of her ancestor.  But as he stood up to leave, it happened; her eyes glazed over and she assumed a voice that was quite a bit different from the one she'd been using.

"The Dark Lord in power without Power

A secret weapon of darkness that was destined for light

Child of his enemy, heart untainted

Raised to be black, predestined to be great

A side never chosen…which will he be?

Future uncertain…destined for light…"

She blinked and smiled up at Dumbledore, oblivious to the fact that she had spoken seconds earlier.  "When will I hear of your decision?" Hardly even looking at her, Dumbledore sat back down to think.  He had a very good idea what it all meant, and he realized that the next several years were not going to be easy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A boy stood alone on a platform; before him stood the Hogwarts Express.  The boy was not overly tall, nor could you see the exquisite muscle hidden beneath his black robes, but his presence attracted much attention.  It had nothing to do with who he was, but had everything to do with how he looked.  His raven black hair hung in waves to his shoulders and his emerald green eyes peered interestedly around him.  He was confident and shied from no glance, but met each with a smirk; not unfriendly, just amused.  In short, the boy was quite attractive, even at age eleven.

His father had seen no reason to send him to school.  He claimed that he was able to teach his son everything he needed to know, but Niger had insisted.  "Didn't you always tell me that one must know one's enemy?"  It was only an excuse, of course.  Though Niger respected his father very much, he also feared him and felt that his true potential could never be reached under his suffocating wing.  But, his father had been impressed with his remark and had finally allowed Niger to come.

Niger dragged his luggage onto the train and found an empty compartment, which wasn't difficult since he had purposely come early.  He was, however, almost disgusted with how excited he felt.  It didn't show on his face, of course.  That was one of the first lessons his father had taught him; never let them know how you feel.  Another of the first lessons was never let them know what you think, which is why he had been learning Occlumency, and well as Legimency since he was eight.  There had been many other lessons along the way, few of them pleasant, most of them downright horrible.  But Niger was grateful for them.  They had made him strong.

As Niger sat in his compartment alone he realized that there was another emotion flowing through him, other than excitement.  He was nervous.  He scoffed at his own weakness.  What was there to be nervous about?  He knew what house he would be placed in, he was sure to have no problem making friends and he already knew most of the things he would need to learn in the next several years.  He should be confident, not nervous.  His subconscious obviously wasn't listening, which was apparent by the knots in his stomach.  What a weakling I am!

He heard the compartment door open and a boy with white blonde and a sneer walked in.  Niger knew who he was, but the boy didn't know Niger.  "Mind if my friends and I steal this compartment from you?" the two gargoyles behind him laughed and sidled into the open space.

"Of course I mind if you steal it from me.  I was here first.  You may sit here, in my compartment with me, though."  Niger mirrored the boy's sneer, which seemed to aggravate him even more.

"Do you know who I am?" demanded the boy with a scowl.  H'mmm…sneer and scowl…are those the only facial expressions he can use?

"Actually, yes, I know exactly who you are.  I just wonder why that makes any difference."  Niger raised his eyebrows briefly and turned back to the window.

"And who do you think you are, talking to me, Draco Malfoy in such a manner?"

"Well, who I think I am really doesn't matter.  I could think I was Queen Elizabeth and it would make no difference.  I am, however, someone not to be trifled with."  This was all said still looking out the window, but after he stopped speaking, Niger turned to look at Draco.

"Are you going to give me your name, pretty boy?" Draco spat at him.

"Do you think you could handle it, Malfoy?"  Niger quirked one side of his mouth giving a kind of half smile at the other boy before standing and walking towards Draco and extending his hand.  "Niger Noctum.  I'm sure your father has spoken of me, has he not?" Niger whispered menacingly.

Draco's pasty face looked as though it was trying to become translucent, such was the pallor.  His eyes widened in a most satisfactory way before his legs gave way and he slumped unceremoniously onto one of the seats.  Niger stepped back and sat gracefully down across from Draco.  Crabbe and Goyle – those were their names, if he remembered correctly – sat down on either side of Draco, their faces as blank as ever.

"So, do you really have…you know?" asked Draco in a hushed voice.

Niger rolled his eyes before pulling back his hair on the right side to expose the flesh behind his right ear.  Clearly imprinted there was a scar in the shape of a perfect circle.

Draco stared at it for a while before questioning again.  "Are the stories really true about how you got it?"

Niger glared at Draco for a second before answering.  "It happened the first time my father tried to punish me.  He ended up casting Crucio on himself.  All I got was this bloody scar.  'Course, because of that one mishap, he punishes me every year on that day – my birthday –  just to make up for not getting to do it that first time." 

Niger shivered slightly thinking of his last birthday.  His father had been trying to help him build up immunity to Crucio by making him endure it constantly.  This year had been the best, according to his father.  Niger had not screamed out once, nor had he made any noise.  He did flinch at one point, which was why his father increased the usual time from fifteen minutes, like usual, to a half an hour.  After his father had released him from the curse, he had immediately ordered Niger to work on his combat training.  Most people couldn't do much physical activity for several days after Crucio has been cast on them for only a few minutes, yet Niger had it for 30 minutes and worked out for another two hours before feeling the kind of fatigue and pain most feel.

Draco was looking at Niger with a kind of grotesque respect in his eyes.  Niger was used to that.  Most fully grown men looked at him that way, but it didn't make him any less annoyed by it now.  "What?" he asked savagely, when Draco still hadn't spoken.

"Oh, nothing," Draco muttered, shaking himself and pointedly looking elsewhere.  Niger groaned.  Oh, how he wished for someone who didn't know about the scar.  But his father would not be happy with him if he made friends of that sort.  All those faithful to Lord Voldemort knew about his son's scar.  It was common knowledge among Death Eaters.  Only those who were against Voldemort would be so clueless.

This brought up an idea that Niger had been mulling over for a while.  Why must he be friends only with those who were followers of his father?  Would it not be wiser to integrate one's self into the confidence of the enemy?  Niger decided that he would make friends with anyone and everyone that desired to befriend him.  Niger may be his father's son, but he was not his father, so he really saw nothing wrong with muggle-born witches and wizards.  After all, hadn't Lord Voldemort's father been a muggle?  Hadn't Niger's own biological mother been muggle-born?  Yes, it was settled then.  It was wise to befriend those you wish to eradicate…that way you are the last person they would expect.

He was hoping to mull over this a bit more when he was interrupted by the compartment door opening again.  "Anything off the trolley, dears?" asked a stout old witch at the door.

Draco and his two shadows proceeded to just about buy the woman bare.  Niger reckoned it was probably more to show him how rich they were then that they really wanted the food.  This point was proven by the looks on their faces when Niger stood and bought a handful of chocolate frogs and nothing else.  Keeping one of them out, he shoved the rest into his trunk for later.  Waste not, want not.  Draco especially looked like he regretted buying so much, seeing how little Niger had bought.  Oh, poor thing, Niger thought contemptuously, he realizes that showing off does him no good with me.  Better he realize this now than later, though.

Another hour and several stacks of sweets later, they pulled in at last to the Hogmead's station near Hogwarts.  Niger could feel his palms sweating in anticipation and almost swore.  He would have, had there not been anyone else who might have heard and wondered why he'd cursed.

Presently, however, he forgot all about being angry, or even being nervous when he stepped off the train onto the platform.

~*~*~*~*~

Okay, here's the thing with this story; I only have 11 chapters of this done, and I'm not sure how much I'll get done, but if you guys like this, then I'll continue to post the chapters that I have (even though I promised myself I wouldn't post it here until it was completely finished…).  If I don't get many reviews, or get more flames than I do complimentary reviews, I'll continue to wait until I'm finished…if I ever finish.  lol  

There is only one other place that I've posted this story and it hasn't been getting many reviews at all, that's why I'm trying here.  If I don't get any reviews here than I know it must not be as good as I think it is *pouts*  hehehe  So, if you like it, let me know by pushing the little button at the bottom and saying "Yay!  I love this chapter!  Keep posting" or, you know, something along those lines…  Crap, now I'm gonna get a dozen reviews that say only that, aren't I?  *sigh*  Erm…more incentive…free virtual hugs for the people who say nice flattering things to me!  *grins*

In my own little bubble,

Trinka