Hadrian Potter: Voldemort Edition

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Hadrian Potter’s first years with father dearest as you know him, Lord Voldemort, aka Tom Marvolo Riddle. He is 7 at the start, and gets stolen/adopted by our Voldie-man.

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Chapter 1


It’s crossed everyone’s mind at some point. What happens when you die? Will I see anyone I know? Will I go to a gated community behind a gilded fence? Or will I burn doomed to suffer perpetually? Will I go anywhere at all? Or does my vision simply turn black and my breathing stop never to start again?

So many questions that are simply impossible to be answered for the living. Life is such a chaotic ordeal- one of such great exhaustion, no one has the time to think of their death until their downtime. And when they do, it’s about celebrations and somber parties blessing your departure from the tangled wire of life.

There are many reasons to die. Or rather, ways to die. Most pass peacefully in their sleep, gently coaxed into moving on. Others die violent and sudden deaths of bullets for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some arrange their day of rest putting their life affairs in order and then getting a special shot that sends them off in a blissful manner. Others still die noble deaths, defending those around them with their precious, fickle lives. They become heralded as heroes, an inspiration to a cause for which they died.

‘Many ways to die indeed,’ mused the woman.

She held her son tightly in her arms, letting him babble and tell her about his nap. His small one-year-old body wriggling in tune to serious gibberish. He grabbed at her fingers, clumsy hands wobbling as he tugged at her. She smiled warmly down at her little bird, the small child already so enraptured by the concept of flight. She laughed softly knowing if he was given a chance, her son would sprout wings and fly.

Warm hands touched her shoulders and she glanced up and smiled, her husband- a spitting image of her son. They exchanged a gentle kiss refusing to break the intimate air the silence brought.

Her son squealed with joy seeing his father and made grabbing motions. Taking the hint, she handed her son over watching with a fond feeling tickling her heart as her husband blew raspberries on the tiny boy’s stomach. Her stomach twisted and she gripped her husband’s hand, a nervous sensation blossoming. She looked at her husband and saw her own anxiety reflected in his brown eyes.

Their son demanded their attention with a shout only infants could perform. So young and innocent, not understanding the tense situation he was in. She and her husband obliged and a sense of desperation fueled her as they cuddled him closer. Prickles ran down her skin and lead stabbed her heart a sensation akin to static electricity began tickling her, hair standing up as if lightning was approaching.

“That’s him,” whispered her husband.

She stood watching him pull his wand from his coat, his eyes becoming hard with determination.

“That’s him, take Harry and run!” He said and started towards the door.

“James-” she started, then she steeled her own resolve and fled. She heard the door crash open behind her as He stormed in. James was fighting his hardest and giving her time to protect Harry, their little boy who didn’t deserve anything happening right now. She raced up the stairs and darted straight for her son’s Nursery. She placed him in his crib, the small child starting to cry as if sensing her despair.

Knowing magical children, he probably was.

She cut her finger and her son’s too. He cried louder and she soothed him the best she could tracing out symbols on his little arms and legs. One last marking on his forehead (“Avada Kedevra!” she heard and stifled a sob as part of her soul was torn from her) and she tried to stop her tears.

“You’ll be alright,” she said, choking. She grabbed a stuffed black dog holding it out to him. “Look, it’s Padfoot Harry!”

The child continued to cry but took the stuffed animal. She looked into his eyes green as her own- as green as the blasted curse that took James from her. She didn’t budge when the footsteps that had been thudding through her house smashed over the door, startling her son back to tears.

“Stand aside you foolish girl,” He hissed over the wailing of her child.

“Leave Harry, don’t touch Harry, Harry’s done nothing to you,” she pleaded knowing it was useless.

“Severus asked me to spare your life, Lily Potter,” He told her. “Stand aside and you will live.”

“Spare Harry, kill me,” Lily said with tears returning. Her son was crying so loud.

“I gave you your chance.”

Lily closed her eyes before glancing at her son knowing this would be the last time she saw him. The way he’d gone silent, he seemed to understand the significance of this too.

“Avada Kedevra!”

Lily flared her magic, not with the intent to fight or defend herself- which was key to this working. She couldn’t defend herself, couldn’t want to defend herself. It had to be a complete sacrifice with the intent to save her son. Easy. She didn’t care if she died; as long as Harry lived. The bloody runes lit on his body seeking the payment for its activation. Lily felt the killing curse smack into her chest and the runes sung, the exchange complete.


Voldemort turned away from the eerily smiling body of the woman and to the child. The child was no longer crying but instead staring at him with those blasted green eyes. He didn’t know what the mother had done that her son was alight with green streaks. They emanated a curious power seeming to request something.

He didn’t kill the child. He stood there and watched. He heard a CRACK. Someone had apparated into the house. ‘Blasted Dumbledore.’ Voldemort thought. He put a tracking spell on little Harry to check on him later, and silently apparated out, leaving nothing but a small mark on Harry Potter’s forehead.

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