Title: Rising Darkness and Falling Angels

Summary: The Potters were gifted by the Gods themselves two very special, powerful children. The Gods had altered the path that was supposed to have been walked, allowing the Potter family to survive the attack of the Dark Lord. But the gift was rejected and abandoned. So the gift was passed to another. The Potters were left childless and infertile in return for their insurmountable betrayal.

Pairings: Undecided

Rating: M

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, language

Chapter One: In the Beginning...

The little boy with the large, large green eyes helped his twin up. They were identical in every way, from the head of dark brown nearly black unruly hair to the almond shaped emerald eyes and the bleeding skin that if it were clean, would surely be lily white. Neither spoke, they had no reason to, not when any sound that escaped them brought down a torrent of abuse. Names were another thing that was unrightfully denied to them, they were called 'Boy' and 'Girl' and 'Freaks'. Comfort was something alien to them, and why should it not be when all they had known since as far back as they could remember was pain?

"I hate them." The girl spoke in their secret language softly when the 'Sir' had thundered his way back into the house after delivering his lecture.

"I do too." The boy relied, sitting down on the grass in his tattered, too big clothing, his hands pulling at the weeds in the garden beds. He ignored the sting of the cuts on his palms caused by the shafts of the plants.

That was how Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Lord Slytherin, found the children he had failed to kill four years ago. It had taken him four years to recover his strength and find the Potter bratlings. But now that he had found them, he wasn't so sure that his original plan of annihilation was the right course of action. In front of him was a pair of highly powerful Wizarding Twins that he could take on, was what his mind spoke of while something he thought he had sealed quite securely stirred in his chest. Perhaps it was that he saw himself in the two children. In their distrusting eyes and small frames…he spoke without thinking, in that same sacred tongue that the two children had conversed in.

"Would you like to come with me? I promise that I mean you no harm."

When Tom Riddle arrived at Vipere Hall, it was with two much too tiny five year olds in his arms. The two small bodies began to convulse and quiver in his arms. Carefully yet quickly, he placed them on their backs on the floor. Taking care to make sure that there wasn't anything either of the twins could collide with in the midst of their seizures; he transfigured the floor underneath them to a softer material.

"Lena, get Cissa here immediately!"

The house elf departed only to repair a few long seconds later alongside a blonde. With eyes so light that they were almost silver white, she zeroed in onto her patients with an efficiency few could boast. As she waved her wand over the small children, she spoke, "The Apparition was too much of a strain on their bodies. Malnutrition and weakened immune systems are obvious. I'll know more when the diagnostics are finished. They were not harmed by the Apparition itself, rather it was merely too much Magic at once for their bodies. Oh my…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes took in what one of the spells she had cast transcribed onto conjured rolls of parchment. It was all she could, with all of her Pureblood training, to not weep and rage at what had been done to two innocents.

Instantly, her mind raced to her own child and she knew that neither of her sisters, so driven by revenge and despair that they were, would never do such things to a child, even if they despised the parent. If her own child were to suffer such atrocities…by the Gods, blood would be spilt.

"My Lord, I beg leave to avenge the honor of these children." Though she was a favorite of the Lord Slytherin, and thus granted the use of his name given at birth and familiarities that not many possessed, it was not right. Not at that moment with the current situation. Wars had been ignited for far less than what had happened to the two innocents. She, though a member of the Nobility herself, was a Vassal pleading for her Liege Lord to allow her to battle, to right a grievous and horrendous wrong.

"Their honor will be avenged, that I can safely assure you of, Narcissa."

"Father," a young child of eight sat on a rich, russet carpet with magical toy armies surrounding him as his parent played chess against himself and his sister sat on a leather sofa, reading a tome that was nearly her own size, "I want to make friends. May I?"

His Father's response was to leave the game in stasis so that he could focus all his attention on his amusing heir. "Oh? Why is that?"

"I want to meet people my own age and play with them, besides, that way me and Adriana-"

"Adriana and I," their Father corrected almost absently.

"Adriana and I," the child sullenly amended, "will make connections and allies and stuff." The unsaid 'like you do' hung in the air and his Father's red gaze softened.

"And you Adriana, do you wish for friends as well?"

"I…don't need any friends, Father…I am fine with you and Hadrian." The soft voice, if one hadn't been listening for it, wouldn't have been heard over the crackle of the fireplace as the logs of the fire continued being consumed.

Even though both of his children had healed faster than had been expected in the three years since he had…rescued them, there were still traumas left. He knew that the wounds would never truly heal, but even so, the knowledge pained him. But maybe, just maybe, socializing with children their own age would help them heal. The Gods knew that only having Bella, Cissa, the house elves, Nagini and himself for company would not raise them to be wholly sane. Bellatrix alone was capable of making one be certain that they had lost their sanity (or that they never had one to begin with) after a sentence or two. Without using Magic.