Disclaimer: Twinkle twinkle little star

How I wonder what you are

Up above the sky you shine

Harry Potter is not mine

LORD DADDY

Chapter 1 – In which Harry is adopted, the Death Eaters are big softies and Voldemort is in denial

"Avada Kedavra"

Lily Potter's hair fanned out when she fell down, but Voldemort ignored her and walked to the crib, where the child who was apparently destined to be his downfall was looking on, chewing on his thumb.

He was already saying the words that would have rid him of the child, when he felt something inside him shake. In response to the cold-bloodied murder, a little piece separated itself from his already mistreated soul, and latched onto the nearest living thing in the room. Harry.

In vain he tried to stop it, to force it back where it belonged, but it was too late and the curse that had left his lips was already directed at the baby, and consequently at his fragment of soul. He couldn't quite imagine the results of casting a killing curse on his own soul, but he just knew they wouldn't be good.

As if time had dilated around him, Voldemort extended his arm towards the green magic speeding in the direction of the blasted prophecy baby, and with a blood-curdling scream tried to disperse it.

He almost succeeded, the magic being absorbed by the furniture and the walls, which cracked and trembled, but he used so much of his remaining power that by all means he should have died.

Of course being the Dark Lord, and a farsighted one at that, he didn't die. But his body was little more than brittle bones and a thin layer of skin held together by his spirit. Panting with effort, he grabbed the baby who carried a piece of his soul, and used the last ounce of his magic to apparate back to Riddle Manor.

He could have left Harry Potter there to rot, but he had a very detailed, very unpleasant image of how things could go if he left the child prophesied to kill him, carrying a piece of his soul there for Dumbledore to find.

As soon as he hit the stone floor he heard Wormtail, who had just escaped after framing Sirius Black, whimper and kneel before him. He managed to wheeze "Ritual of Rebirth, third shelf on the right," before losing consciousness.

Wormtail shot a look at his master, then at the baby, and hurried to comply.

After everything was prepared, and some additional research was done, he performed the Rebirth Ritual, cutting off his arm, spilling blood of the enemy forcibly taken from some prisoners in the dungeons of the Manor, and said the words.

Wormtail lowered Voldemort – who was just about a skeleton with a spirit by now – into the cauldron, and sparks and white steam emanated from it.

Finally, the Dark Lord's newly fashioned body rose slowly, white, tall and serpentine.

Harry's happy giggles were the soundtrack of his resurrection.

Voldemort rubbed the bridge of his new, and rather flat, nose. He ha the feeling that with a baby around his moments of glory were going to decrease consistently. "Robe me," he ordered resignedly to his servant, who was too busy writhing in agony on the floor to listen to him.

"Wormtail!" he called with his high, cold voice "Robe me, you fool,"

The short little man howled, holding his bleeding stump and ignoring his master.

"Oh for the love of-..." He picked up his wand, cauterized the wound and fashioned a new, silvery and functional hand for his follower.

"Now, robe me, you cretin,"

Because he could have done it himself but this way he created an atmosphere of servitude, fear and solemn power.

If you ignored Harry's ectatic squeals and clucks, that is.

Everyone had a sombre expression that reflected just how terrifying they considered Lord Voldemort to be. The aforementioned Dark Lord was sitting on something more resembling a throne than a chair, shooting chilling glares at some of the Death Eaters, informing them of the Crucio they'd be shortly receiving.

Avery shuddered and looked down, his complexion ghastly and his eyes wide with fear. He had failed both the tasks his master had trusted him with in the last two months, he knew he's be punished but he couldn't have anticipated the dark mood his master would be in, or the promise of suffering beyond human comprehension in those glinting red eyes.

Even his loyal servant Bellatrix, who could no matter what look at the Dark Lord with awe, had her head lowered and her hands folded into her lap, managing for once to look almost like a normal person.

The air was heavy with fear, the tension palpble, and everyone at the table waited stiffly for Voldemort to begin the meeting.

"My loyal followers," he began solemnly, "As of today nothing stands in the way of my greatness. The Potter boy... doesn't pose a threat anymore, and the prophecy has been thwarted. Some of you–"

A loud infant's giggle resonated in the stone walls of the Manor.

Voldemort's serpentine face twitched.

"–some of you have not ccomplished what I had requested of them. I am talking about you, Avery. If you dare fail one more time–"

Another giggle. Voldemort ignored it.

"–one more time, I will Imperio you, make you dance naked in the street, force you to pluck away all of your teeth one by one, Crucio you, and only then I will kill you. Have I made myself clear?"

The Dark Lord had tried to act nonchalant about it, but the Death Eaters were whispering and looking around in search of the source of those noises.

"Y-Yes, my Lord," answered Avery a bit dubiously. "Was that a baby's voice...?"

"NO" Voldemort growled, but he was partly covered by Harry's loud giggles.

And that was how the Death Eaters found out about Harry.

"Oh my God. You really kept him!" breathed Bellatrix on Harry's face, sounding like a doting Aunt and looking like a demented shark, "he's so cute! Aren't you? Aren't you?"

It was probably the first time her horrible, mock baby voice was directed at an actual baby.

"Yes, well, I'm not keeping it because I want to. I find myself forced to keep an eye on him because of certain circumstances that leave him with a fragment of my soul," clarified Voldemort, although no one was listening to him in favor of huddling around Harry's improvised crib and make cooing noises.

Lucius patted the Dark Lord on the shoulder understandingly.

"I have a one-year-old son, too. Tough shit,"

Dolohov, known sadist and ruthless murderer, gasped and turned a horrified, reproaching look at them. "No bad words around the baby!"

"Wow," said Mulciber, touching the infant's cheek gingerly "it's really Harry Potter,"

"Yes!" cooed Narcissa tickling Harry, who gurgled enthusiastically, "And look at these green eyes! I can't wait to dress him up,"

"Do you think he can talk?" asked Macnair excitedly "hey, try to say Walden. It's my name. W-a-l-d-e-n," he instructed.

"Gah,"

"Wal-den" he enunciated slowly.

"Waw-haw"

"Come on, you're almost there!" cheered Macnair, with a manic look that he only got when he tortured, maimed or killed. "Wal-den, come on, you can do it!"

"Og-den"

Everyone stared at him.

"Kid's got good taste," Lucius said, and even he seemed impressed "Ogden's Firewhiskey is the best. We're really doing a good job,"

Macnair burst out laughing, and he and Dolohov high-fived.

"Daddy," the infant said, pointing his chubby little finger at the Darkest Lord of All Time.

"No," insisted Voldemort, "I am not your 'daddy'. Your 'daddy' died. There's no such thing as a 'daddy' for you. If you call me 'daddy' just one more time, I will strangle –"

"Daddy," little Harry gurgled happily.

"I am not your daddy!"

Voldemort shook him, trying to make his point. Harry thought it was a game and giggled more.

"Now listen to me, you infernal child. If you don't stop this ridiculous behaviour right now, I will be forced to use violence. Am I clear? I have no qualms about it, although I will refrain from causing damage to the head, because I heard the future consequence are rather dire and the last thing I want is having to put up with someone even more stupid than the norm, and that is saying something, believe me...anyway," Voldemort caught himself mid-rant and looked back at the baby. Harry was staring at him with bright wide eyes, sucking on his thumb.

"What?" the Dark Lord asked cautiously, "Did you finally understand?"

Harry giggled.

"Daddy!"

A screeching, deafening and overall chilling scream of frustration was heard throughout Riddle Manor.

They had brought Harry to the battlefield with them.

In hindsight, that may not have been the best idea, but they needed every Death Eater available, and Voldemort felt uneasy leaving him at the Manor alone. Lucius had whispered that he understood, that it happened to his wife too, and it was his motherly instinct that prevented him from leaving the child alone.

He had been duly Crucio'd.

They had hidden Harry in a secluded spot, a bit far from the battlefield, behind a bush.

At first everything had seemed to go well. The plain was littered by corpses, and the few surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix had fled, but then they heard it.

Harry was wailing loudly. Equally panicked expressions painted themselves on the Death Eaters' faces, and they ran to the hiding spot as fast as possible.

The scene that greeted them made a few of the Dark Lord followers whisper in awe and smile tenderly.

They had arrived just in time to see Harry's accidental magic tear itself free and smash on the head the Order member who had found him. The man, who was later identified as Edgar McKinnon, fell down lifelessly.

"Look," whispered Bellatrix welling up "He killed him,"

"His first bout of accidental magic," said a visibly moved Dolohov, "And he's already following in his daddy's footsteps,"

Voldemort Crucio'd him. "I'm not his 'daddy'. I'm not anyone's 'daddy',"

Everyone ignored him in favor of cooing and patting Harry on the head.

"His first kill!" said Macnair when they got back to the Manor, "We have to capture this moment,"

He waved his wand and conjured a camera.

"That's right" said Narcissa dabbing at her eyes with an handkerchief, "We have to celebrate. I think we still have a bottle of champagne somewhere here,"

"Oh yes, and Mulciber, go heat some milk for our champion, I bet after today's events he's pretty hungry,"

"Nott, change his diaper!"

"What? But I'm not very good at it..."

"I showed you last time, you dumbshit,"

"No swearing around the baby!"

Even in the middle of all the chaos, Lucius saw the Dark Lord trying to wipe a tear away unnoticed, and he patted him on the shoulder.

And was subsequently Crucio'd.

"I am not going to cuddle you,"

"Mooh,"

"And I won't buy any disgusting colorful plastic toys whatsoever,"

"Gnaggah,"

"Because I don't care about you. You're just a collateral. But I won't intentionally mistreat you either, because that would mean I care about your existence,"

"Geehaw,"

"Instead, I won't cuddle you, but I will give you this,"

He dropped the object in the child's hands somewhat awkwardly, and hastily took off. For the following years little Harry couldn't sleep without it, and would start to cry if someone took it away.

Many people found a baby chewing on a skull a disturbing sight.

The Death Eaters found it endearing.