When a Voldemort in his thirties encounters a time-travelling, seventeen-year-old Harry Potter, he makes a dangerous—and hilarious—assumption. He assumes that Harry is his son. And his son, of course, deserves the very best.
A confused Harry plays along for the sake of self-preservation, but living with his “father” is proving to be intolerable in more ways than one.
“You are mine,” Voldemort said gently, and smiled when Harry flinched. So the boy did know Voldemort, after all. He knew Voldemort was to be feared. “I will look after you, my own.”
“I don’t belong to you,” Harry spat, despite his fear. Oh, what a delight he was! He was no cowering, simpering sycophant, like Voldemort’s other followers; no, this child had a spine of steel. Not many could stand before Voldemort without quailing.
“You are my son,” Voldemort declared. “Of course you belong to me. Your every cell, your every fibre, your every heartbeat. You are mine in flesh and blood and soul. You are mine in magic. And you will not deny me.”
Bookmarked by katelynw115
15 Sep 2020
The Final Battle went far worse than expected, leaving Harry alone in the aftermath. Desperate, he performs a ritual to go back in time, just not as himself. However, the time he ends up in is far from what he intended. Unsure of what else to do, he finally decides to go back to Hogwarts.
Tom Riddle is instantly obsessed.
(Might edit the summary at some point when I have a better idea of where I'm going with this)
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
14 Sep 2020
Harry Potter is stuck in a cell. The war is lost and he has been captured after his whole ‘coming back to life’ scenario. Whilst he wishes he could be positive and productive, it is fairly hard to do so when you know that all of your friends are either dead or sentenced to it, and you are stuck, powerless, in a cursed cell. So, Harry wishes on a star, in a bleak, melancholic sort of way, for it to give him a chance to make it all right and save the day like he was supposed to.
He doesn’t expect for it to actually work.
He certainly doesn’t expect for it to work so much that he would be sent back in time.
And yet, there he is at King’s Cross Station, inhaling the fossil fuels of the 1940s, bound for Hogwarts. He should have asked the star for an easier ride.
“I was going to kill you,” Grindelwald said nonchalantly, twirling the wand in his hand. Harry’s blood ran cold, all too aware of his own vulnerability. He inadvertently recalled the row of followers in the back of the dungeon, their reverence and fear of the lord undeniable.
"What changed?" Harry asked, quiet but daring. His heart was beating loud in his chest, adrenaline beginning to pump through his veins. Grindelwald’s piercing eyes finally turned to him, tracing his features unabashedly.
“Your resemblance to the Potters.”
At the mercy of the powerful Gellert Grindelwald, an amnesiac Harry Potter reluctantly accepts to assist in the lord’s search for the Hallows — by spying on the heir to the Cloak of Invisibility, James Potter.
It’s said that when the world ends, it would do so with a bang, others say with an F sharp, but Harry could affirm that it was only a bright green light and no sound other than the incantation.
Harry kills himself and instead of doing bye-bye, Death throws him back to the past because he is bored.
Harry, now Hadrian, is soft and sweet but with murdery needs and Tom is lovey dovey and needy. Oh, and everything is like dark and sad.