Chapter 1

The old house trembled as a cloaked figure moved through its halls. The time had come. The Dark Lord had arrived, determined to destroy the one who was said to be his downfall. This creature had crimson eyes and skin as pale as snow, resembling more of a human-snake hybrid than an ordinary person.

With a chilling laugh, the crimson-eyed creature stepped over the lifeless body of James Potter, his victim. He approached the door, which had been protected by charms. Though the defenses weren't strong enough to deter him, Lily desperately tried to flee with her son, wanting to keep him safe from the Dark Lord's clutches. Unfortunately, their escape was futile. The Dark Lord, known as Voldemort, closed in on them with unnatural speed.

"Going somewhere, are you, you Mudblood?" he sneered. Drawing his wand, he pointed it at the child.

"Please spare him. Take me instead," Lily pleaded, shielding her beloved child with her own body. Voldemort looked at her with a hint of pity, a feeling he rarely experienced.

"Why waste your miserable life? Join me, and you could find safety and freedom. Don't squander your existence on that repulsive child. Serve me, please me, and your worthless life will have purpose," Voldemort replied, recognizing an opportunity to recruit someone useful to his cause.

However, he also had other plans. He wanted to eliminate Peter Pettigrew, who had requested Lily or James' safety in exchange for the child. Voldemort had expected Severus Snape to make such a request, given his apparent affection for the "Mudblood bitch." As long as his followers served him faithfully and were useful, Voldemort cared little for their personal desires.

One of his favorite pastimes was to reward his followers, only to later destroy them. The memory of the day he had toyed with the wife of a man named Nott brought him great pleasure. Nott had pleaded for Voldemort to spare his pregnant wife, promising his loyalty in return. For amusement, Voldemort had allowed Nott's wife to remain with him until she gave birth to their heir.

However, his patience quickly waned, and he subjected her to the Cruciatus Curse and the Blood-Boiling Curse, resulting in her death shortly after giving birth. It wasn't his fault that she couldn't endure the torment; after all, he had only waited an hour. This incident had made it clear to his Death Eaters that they should never request such things again. Yet, here was Peter Pettigrew, making the same mistake. It amused Voldemort.

"Please, I'll do anything. Just let Harry go," Lily cried, unable to contain her fear for her son. She had always dreamed of raising Harry alongside his parents, seeing him off to Hogwarts, and witnessing the joy in his eyes. But those dreams were now shattered.

Voldemort grew impatient with this drama and cast a Stinging Hex at Lily, followed by the Cruciatus Curse. The pain coursed through her body, and she clung desperately to Harry, but she could bear it no longer. Trembling and tearful, her emerald eyes shining with hurt, she collapsed.

The Dark Lord approached Harry, a sinister smile forming on his lips. "So, this is the child who was prophesied to kill me," he remarked, observing the helpless boy's striking resemblance to his mother, yet possessing an altogether different aura. Harry showed no sign of fear; his bright emerald eyes fixed on Voldemort as the wand was pointed directly at him. The Dark Lord was about to utter the words that would seal the child's fate when a sudden sting pierced his arm.

Lily.

She had risen, attempting to throw hexes at him. However, her efforts proved futile; she couldn't inflict any damage. Annoyed, Voldemort decided it was time to end this interference. He muttered the curse that killed her—Avada Kedavra.

A cruel laughter escaped his lips as Lily's lifeless body fell to the ground, her last tear marking the moment.

Now, facing the child without any interruptions, Voldemort repeated the incantation that had taken his mother's life. But to his surprise, a dark mist materialized around the boy, causing the curse to vanish into thin air.

A chill filled the air, akin to the presence of Dementors, yet none were present. Darkness enveloped the surroundings, and the shadows seemed to gain control.

Voldemort, unable to think clearly, hurled countless curses at the child, yet none could touch him. Those same emerald eyes locked onto him, and the shadows took hold completely.

Something extraordinary happened—the bodies of Lily and James Potter began to glow, and small dark fragments emerged from their forms, converging on the child. Harry James Potter absorbed these ethereal substances, his power expanding throughout the house, emanating from within him.

Voldemort found himself growing increasingly powerless, unable to resist. He continued casting killing curses at the child, but Harry's newfound strength only intensified. For the first time in years, Voldemort felt fear, emanating from a mere child. Voldemort's own magic was being drawn to Harry, his very life force drained by the boy's presence. In a final act of desperation, Voldemort sent the killing curse toward himself, realizing that even if he died, he would persist in some form. His tools would protect him. His thoughts scattered, his knowledge fading.

Barely clinging to consciousness, Voldemort managed to preserve himself for a moment longer. Two words brought separation between the Dark Lord and the child. He still lived! However, he knew his time was limited. With what remained of his strength, he barely managed to apparate back to Riddle Manor.

His spirit teetered on the brink, losing control. Scarcely able to maintain a grip, he took possession of his nearest servant.

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As news of the Dark Lord's disappearance spread like wildfire, panic and relief intertwined within the wizarding community. The Death Eaters, who had thrived under the dark reign of their master, were left stunned and vulnerable. The Dark Mark, once a symbol of their allegiance and power, had vanished from their forearms, severing the connection that had granted them enhanced abilities through the Dark Lord's magic.

Confusion and fear gripped the Death Eaters as they realized their newfound strength was gone. Many of them had grown dependent on the Dark Lord's power, relying on it to fuel their dark deeds and maintain their positions of influence. Now, stripped of their enhanced abilities, they felt exposed and weakened.

The disappearance of the Dark Mark didn't go unnoticed by those who had fought against the Dark Lord and his followers. Members of the Order of the Phoenix and other resistance groups, long oppressed by the reign of terror, received word of the Dark Lord's absence. Hope blossomed in their hearts as they dared to believe that their years of struggle might finally be coming to an end.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, basking in the silence that followed the news of Voldemort's disappearance. While he rejoiced at the temporary defeat of the Dark Lord, he couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance at the loss of the adult Potters. What good was a pawn if it ended up dead? The prospect of manipulating a young child for twelve long years seemed tiresome, and he began contemplating an alternative plan. Perhaps there were others better suited for the task. (A/N: Mention this now b4 anything. I'm not that skilled in writing to make the complex character dumbles was in Canon. I could make him completely good but it's easier to make a manipulative dumbles and more align with his younger self when he wanted the hallows with his man)

Sirius Black apparated near his best friend's house, desperately hoping to find James and his family safe and sound. However, the scene that awaited him was nothing short of horrifying. James Potter's lifeless body lay on the ground, covered in blood and wounds. The sight was too much for Sirius to bear, but he steeled himself and ventured further into the house, determined to find Lily and Harry.

Opening the door, Sirius was met with a devastating sight. Lily's body was marred with cuts and bruises, blood oozing from her wounds. It was a gruesome scene that made Sirius feel nauseated, but he forced himself to search for Harry. To his relief, he discovered the young boy unharmed, except for a vivid lightning bolt scar etched on his forehead. As their eyes met—Sirius' grey eyes filled with determination and Harry's vibrant green filled with innocence—a silent vow was made. Sirius swore to never let go of Harry again.

Before Sirius could utter his final promise, he was abruptly struck by a Stupefy spell, his body falling to the ground. Another figure emerged from the shadows—it was Albus Dumbledore. With a calm and calculating demeanour, Dumbledore addressed Sirius, apologizing for his actions. He explained that Harry needed to fulfil his role as the saviour and make the ultimate sacrifice, just like his parents had.

Dumbledore modified Sirius' memory, making him believe that he had given Harry to Hagrid, while Peter Pettigrew was responsible for the attack. It was a dark betrayal, orchestrated by the man Sirius had once trusted implicitly.

Minerva McGonagall eagerly awaited Dumbledore's arrival with the rest of the wizarding world still astonished by Harry's remarkable feat shown by the constant fireworks and the vibrant magic in the air. When Dumbledore finally appeared, carrying a young boy in his arms, Minerva couldn't hide her mixed emotions. She was thrilled to see the child who had saved them all but couldn't fathom the idea of him being placed with a family she regarded as monsters.

Dumbledore assured Minerva that Petunia, Harry's only living relative, would be responsible and care for him. However, Minerva warned him of the consequences of his actions, sensing the possible life the young infant could be exposed to. With a small smile and a few words assuring Minerva, Dumbledore placed Harry on the doorstep of Number 4, Privet Drive, along with a letter.

As Minerva vanished into thin air, Dumbledore failed to notice a small shadow lurking behind one of the houses. The figure muttered incantations under his breath, observing the place where Dumbledore had stood moments before and where young Harry now resided. With a final spell, the shadow disappeared under the moonlit sky.

[Six Years Later:]

Nearly six years had passed since Harry found himself in the clutches of the orphanage. Each day was a struggle, and his head seemed to ache with a frequency that intensified on his birthday, July 31st. As he woke up, his temples throbbed with pain, making it difficult for him to focus.

Harry pushed himself out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom, his footsteps unsteady. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the half-broken mirror, which barely reflected his haggard appearance. Yes, this was his life—an existence within the confines of an uncaring orphanage. His relatives had deemed him troublesome and abandoned him, leaving him to endure the torment of the matron and the other children.

In his thoughts, a flashback unfolded—a memory of relentless bullying and abuse. One incident stood out—a menacing eleven-year-old boy hurling insults and punches at Harry, mocking his very existence. The boy taunted Harry, reminding him of his parents' tragic demise and his perceived worthlessness.

Amidst the cruelty, Harry mustered the courage to ask about his parents to the matron. However, her callous response stung him deeply. Lily and James Potter were his parents, while Petunia and Vernon Dursley were his aunt and Uncle—people who had discarded him like an unwanted burden. She had also made a point to demean him in front of the other kids causing them to laugh and bully him even more. The revelation and the hate fuelled the flames of rage within him, yet he managed to suppress his emotions and quietly departed.

But Harry's life didn't get any better. The other orphans viewed him as a freak, an outcast. They believed that only those who beat Harry were chosen by families. But later news came to light as those who were picked mysteriously vanished afterward, supposedly "moving overseas" but as kids, they thrived in going overseas in holidays etc. It became a twisted belief that reinforced the notion of Harry's abnormality.

As time passed, Harry's suffering continued unabated, his tormentors growing bolder with each passing day. The beatings, the belittlement, the constant reminder that he was unwanted—all these experiences etched themselves into his psyche, forging a spirit that refused to be broken.

Amidst the pain and anguish, the recurring presence of a red-eyed man haunted Harry's dreams. The man seemed oddly familiar, though Harry couldn't quite place him. Questions swirled in his mind, seeking answers to the mystery that lingered within the depths of his subconscious. Who was this man, and why did he haunt his dreams?