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Voldemort looked on at the suburban house with a smile. He finally found Harry Potter. It had been almost ten years since the day the killing curse had rebounded, and much of that time had been spent trying to get his body back and stay off of Dumbledore’s radar while he slowly rebuilt his forces. The light wouldn’t know what hit them.
But first to take care of The-Boy-Who-Lived. He stalked forward, his lieutenants flanking him on either side. “Take care of the muggles,” he said as they approached the door, “The boy is mine.”
The masked figures nodded silently as he unlocked and opened the door to number 4 Privet Drive. The sounds of people talking came from the kitchen and one of the death eaters cast a wordless silencing charm. As they entered the kitchen the sound ceased. Three muggles, though two of them appeared to be related to whales, stared at them in shock. Voldemort glanced around quickly but the only child in the room was a rotund blonde boy with food smeared over the bottom half of his face. “Where is Harry Potter?” He hissed.
The fat man jumped to his feet, his face red with anger. “Who the hell are you!” He bellowed, “Get the bloody hell out of my house!”
A quick flick of the wrist left the man clutching at his throat, his face slowly purpling as he struggled to breathe. “Vernon!” The woman shrieked and rushed to her husband. The boy had fallen off of his chair and scrambled back till he was pressed against the wall in terror.
“Where is Harry Potter?” Voldemort repeated with a sneer as the woman tried helplessly to get her husband some air. When she didn’t respond immediately he turned his wand to the boy. “Well?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please,” she begged, “Please don't hurt him.”
One of the death eaters stalked forward and grabbed her roughly by the collar. “Tell us where he is woman and your death will be quick.”
She merely sobbed. “Please. Please.” She repeated.
The death eater dropped her with a snarl and pointed his own wand at her. “Crucio!” He shouted and her screams filled the house.
Voldemort turned to the child. “Where is he?” He snarled.
Slowly the blonde lifted a shaking hand, pointing up the stairs towards the bedrooms. Voldemort turned and swept out of the small kitchen, leaving the death eaters to deal with the muggles. As he passed the staircase he briefly noticed a cupboard underneath with three bolts locking it. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion but dismissed it in favor of finding The-Boy-Who-Lived. There were three bedrooms on the upper level of number 4. The doors were open wide on two of them but the third caught Voldemort’s eye. There were seven locks on the door and he wondered if this was somehow related to the cupboard downstairs. With a wave of his wand the door unlocked and swung open. He stepped forward into the room, unsure of what to expect.
The only furniture in the room was a large, king size bed. It had a sheet but no blanket and laying on the bed, curled in a tight ball around the only pillow, was a small, naked boy. He was covered in bruises and seemed to be unconscious. As Voldemort stepped forward he caught a glimpse of wetness between the boys legs and noticed the bed itself was damp with various fluids. His wand dropped and he knelt down next to the bed, reaching out tentatively for the boy’s shoulder. He awoke with a start, piercing green eyes meeting Voldemort's red ones. They stared at each other for a moment before recognition filled the boys eyes. He sat up and pulled back suddenly. “I'm sorry,” he said, “I didn’t think Uncle Vernon was bringing anyone else today.”
The words hit Voldemort like bricks as the full realization of what was happening came to him. His eyes filled anger as he stood and the boy immediately curled into a ball, hands coming up to protect his face. “I'm sorry!” he cried, “I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!”
The Dark Lord froze and forced himself to calm down. “I am not angry with you child,” he said as gently as he could, “I am angry at those who did this to you.”
He peeked out from behind his hands. “Really?” He asked quietly.
Voldemort nodded and held out a hand. “Come. I will take you from these vile people and you will never have to do this again.”
Wide eyes the color of the curse Voldemort had been planning to cast that night stared at the offered appendage. He could see the want and fear warring in those large eyes. “Harry,” he said softly, “What these people have done to you isn’t right. I can take you away from them where you'll be safe.”
“But,” Harry gripped his legs tightly to his chest, “Uncle said that since I’m an orphan I need to do this to earn my keep.”
Voldemort’s hand tightened around his wand but he forced himself to relax again. “He was wrong.” He said. “No child should ever subjected to this, especially not one like you.”
Harry tilted his head questioningly. “Like me?”
Of course the boy didn’t know about magic. Voldemort wondered if the filthy muggles had taught him anything at all. “Yes Harry like you. Have you ever done something that you weren’t able to explain how it happened? Anything out of the ordinary?”
Harry thought back to the first time he had been forced onto this bed. One of the neighbors had come for dinner and Uncle Vernon promised him a treat after dessert. When the man climbed on top of him he had freaked out and the man went flying across the room. Uncle Vernon had beaten him until he could barely move after that. Harry nodded and curled tighter into a ball. “That’s magic.” Voldemort said. “You are a wizard.”
He waited a moment as the boy registered his words. “But- But-,” Harry spluttered, “That's not possible!”
Voldemort raised an eyebrow and lifted his wand. As he twirled it in a lazy pattern, glowing lights appeared in the air and floated slowly towards Harry. Harry reached up to softly cup one of them in his hand, wondering at the light warmth it gave off. “Wow,” was all he managed to say as the light disappeared.
“I can teach you to do that.” Voldemort said, “But you have to come with me.”
Harry still stared hesitantly at the waiting hand. Could it really be this easy? He glanced up once at the man who had appeared out of nowhere. Maybe this was just a dream. Yeah that had to be it. But if it was...then there was no harm in taking the stranger’s hand. It was certainly better than staying here. Slowly he reached forward and wrapped his own small hand around the man’s. Voldemort pulled him gently off the bed and helped him into the hallway. The screams were louder out here and he vaguely wondered if the bedroom had been soundproofed. “What’s happening?” Harry asked, pulling back fearfully but not letting go of Voldemort’s hand.
“My associates are taking care of the muggles downstairs. Lucius!” He called and the screaming ceased.
“Muggles?” Harry asked as footsteps approached the stairs.
“Non-magical people.” Voldemort replied as his lieutenant round the corner and took in the small naked child that stood by his lord. He bowed once he reached the top of the stairs. “Your cloak,” Voldemort instructed.
The masked man removed the garment, revealing long blonde hair, and offered it to his lord. Voldemort waved his wand to shrink it slightly before settling it snugly around Harry’s shoulders. “Are they dead?” He asked as he arranged the cloth so it completely covered Harry.
“Not yet my lord,” the blonde said. “Though the woman fainted.”
“Good. Knock them out and throw them in the dungeons. They don’t deserve to die yet.”
The man bowed again and returned downstairs. “What are you going to do to them?” Harry asked softly.
“I’m going to make them pay for what they did to you.”
Harry looked up at him again. If this was a dream, it was certainly a nice one. He took Voldemort’s hand again and followed him down the stairs as two masked men floated the Dursley’s unconscious bodies out the front door. “Are you ready?” Voldemort asked.
Harry spared one last glance at the house, his eyes lingering on the cupboard under the stairs, before shaking his head. He turned toward the door and stepped outside, taking a moment to savor the cool air on his skin. As they walked towards the street and freedom he didn’t once look back.