AN: This is just a plot bunny I had bouncing round that wouldn't go away. I just love Barty and there are not enough stories with him and Harry.

Let me know what you think, this will probably be abandoned if I don't think anyone actually likes it.

This is unbeta'd so please forgive any mistakes.

Hope you enjoy it!

Hanna xoxo

***

Chapter One

"Dad, I'm home!" Harry shouted as he walked into the manor, leaving the house elves to get his trunk out of the coach. Harry looked around his home and grinned, he'd missed this. The manor was opulence at its finest, everything was of the highest quality and nothing but the best was good enough for the Dark Lord and his Heir.

"Harrison." Lord Voldemort swept into the entrance hall and pulled his son into a loving hug. Dark Lord or not, he was affectionate with his son. Even Voldemort knew a child needed care, in fact Voldemort knew that better than most and he made sure his son was never left wanting. Not that his Death Eaters knew this of course, they didn't even know Harry was the Dark Heir. The only one to have ever caught them in a moment of father son bonding hadn't been around long enough afterwards to tell anyone.

Actually he'd been held in their private dungeon until they were in the mood for another bonding activity. There hadn't been much left of him after that.

"How was school?" Voldemort asked, guiding Harry through the maze of corridors and into their private lounge.

"Oh, you know the usual." Harry responded with a careless shrug. "Harry Potter had to be the good little Gryffindor. The old fool wouldn't stop fucking twinkling at me. The mudblood bitch wouldn't stop nagging. The ginger twat still hasn't learnt to eat with his mouth closed but, of course, this year no one could say anything because he's still grieving over the tragic death of poor little Ginevra, the stalker-in-training." He finished his tirade with a wicked smirk, the death of the youngest Weasley was clearly something he was happy about.

"Language, Harry." Voldemort chastised with a chuckle, oh how he had missed his son.

"Sorry, it's just very frustrating." Harry admitted with a sheepish smile. "Oh and I want that potions master dead."

"Harry…"

"Actually, no." The boy interrupted the Dark Lord, the only one who could do so and stay alive. "I want to play with him first. I want to pull out every toe nail and each finger nail one by one. Then maybe the bones. How much would it hurt to have your bones removed without magic? Could we keep him alive while I confiscated his bones?" Harry looked up at the man who had been his father since he was four years old and smiled at the pride he was in those ruby eyes. "After the bones have gone I think I'll play with his intestines a bit. Then he can die. I'm sure I'll be bored by then."

"You've never been this vexed at your professor before, Harry." Voldemort mused with a thoughtful expression on his aristocratic face. "What has he done to incur your ire?"

"Did Sirius arrive safely?" Harry asked instead of answering.

"Yes."

"Did he tell you what happened?"

"No. He gave his assurance that he was innocent as I was reading the note you sent with him but I'm afraid, once he found out my identity, that his panic resulted in him being sedated. After twelve years in Azkaban, we really don't know how much more his heart can take before it will give out."

Harry nodded his understanding. Though he wasn't pleased with the situation, it was better than it could have been. This brought Harry to the point he was making. This was Snape's fault. Sirius would be a free man now if it hadn't been for that greasy git. If he'd only listened straight away instead of needing to be stunned, they could have had everything sorted before the sun went down. They wouldn't have had to face a fucking werewolf.

"Snape's the reason Sirius is still on the run. Despite the fact there was proof, he wouldn't let go of his anger long enough to listen. He's petty vindictiveness almost got us all killed. I don't care how useful he could be when you rise again, he's Dumbledore's man anyway and I want him dead."

"Harry…"

"I want him dead, father." Harry interrupted again. Voldemort was brought up short by his son's use of such a formal endearment. This was important to him.

"As you wish, my son."

Harry's answering smile was one of the most beautiful things Voldemort had ever seen. The entire room lit up and those stunning emerald eyes sparkled with pleasure.

"Thank you, dad." He said softly and sincerely, kissing him father on the cheek.

They settled themselves into their chairs just as a house elf popped into the room with a glass of wine of them each. The rest evening was spent discussing plans for the summer and everything else that had occurred during Harry's third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was decided that they would give Sirius a few more days of peaceful rest before waking up the sleeping wizard. Harry cringed at the thought of his newly discovered Godfather's reaction to the fact that he had been adopted by the Dark Lord himself.

***

It had actually been a complete accident that Voldemort had discovered Harry whereabouts all those years ago. In his bodiless form, he had come across the Dursley's, broken down on a country road as they drove home from visiting Aunt Marge. After he had possessed Vernon Dursley, the Dark Lord had been able to access all of his memories. Imagine his surprise when he found out the location of the boy who'd destroyed him and found out that the boy was kept in a cupboard and knew absolutely nothing of magic.

Voldemort had been enraged. He had tried to kill Harry Potter as an infant to prevent the rise of an enemy, there had been no real cruelty in the act. It had even saddened him to end the life of a child but it had been a sacrifice of war. Now here was that same child being beaten and abused by muggles on Dumbledore's orders, they were even being paid to do it.

How dare pathetic muggles treat a magical child like that? It was disgusting for a muggle to treat a muggle child like that, the offence was ten times worse when it was a magical child. They were sacred, it was a gift from magic to be blessed with a child and Dumbledore of all people was encouraging this? Voldemort's blood boiled.

Voldemort had returned with the Dursley's to Privet Drive, still hidden away in the body of the obese muggle. The blood wards, as flimsy as they were given Petunia's lack of love for her nephew, allowed Voldemort to enter the house with no problems seeing as he meant no harm to the child.

It hadn't taken long for Voldemort to gain Harry's trust, once he'd explained that he wasn't really Vernon Dursley and that he was going to look after the boy from then on. It was only a short time later that Voldemort realised the anger Harry was hiding inside. Anger directed at his pathetic muggle relative that had systematically tortured him ever since he had been abandoned in the middle of the night on their doorstep.

It had become the Dark Lord's main priority to unleash that anger. It had been surprisingly easy once Harry had overcome his moral objections. After all, didn't they do the same to him? Didn't they deserve it for what they had done to him?

Harry was only punishing the Dursley's for three years of abuse; they'd punished him for simply existing.

By Harry's sixth birthday, Voldemort had come to view the boy as the son he'd never had. Harry had felt the same. It was on that birthday Harry had called him dad for the first time.

By Harry's tenth birthday, he knew everything about the death of the Potters. It had worried him at first that his father had once tried to kill him, maybe he would try again. That concern had quickly been shot down. Voldemort would sooner die than allowed harm to come to his child. The fact that Voldemort had killed the Potters was barely even thought about. Harry didn't care. He didn't need to. Voldemort may have taken his biological parents but he'd given him back a father and he must have been better than the father that had allowed him to be placed with abusive muggles, last will and testaments were there for a reason after all.

Harry's Hogwarts letter had arrived a week before his eleventh birthday with a note for the Dursley's to make a show of keeping it and all others away from him. Voldemort hadn't of course, but Dumbledore didn't know that. Two days before Harry's birthday, another note had arrived instructing the Dursley's to take Harry to a hut on a rock in the sea. They had both scoffed at how the headmaster was trying to 'set the scene', wanting to emphasise Harry's feeling of being rescued. It was ridiculous but they did it anyway. They needed to keep Dumbledore in the dark about Harry's true alliance and that mean playing along.

So Harry had gone with Hagrid, he'd asked all the right questions, appeared sufficiently clueless about the magical world and pretended to hate Draco Malfoy after meeting him in the robes shop. He'd become friends with the people Dumbledore had set up for him to meet and been sorted into Gryffindor like a good little Boy-Who-Lived. He'd ignored all the not-so-subtle hints about the Philosophers Stone being in the school and ignored the about-as-subtle-as-an-anvil clues that pointed to Voldemort's involvement.

He already knew the stone was in the school and that Quirrell was trying to get it on his father's behalf. Harry's wilful ignorance hadn't really made much of a difference in the end. Quirrell just wasn't that strong of a wizard and had been killed in one final attempt just before the school year finished. At least that was the official story. Personally, Harry thought it was more likely Dumbledore had killed him but it wouldn't help his position to go around saying that. Dumbledore still had too much support.

And then it had been Harry's second year. Merlin, that had been a nightmare. Though it had been amusing that every other student suddenly thought he was the Heir of Slytherin. They were right of course, but he wasn't going to admit that and he wasn't the one hurting mudbloods. Though if the person responsible had come to him, he'd have helped them without a second thought.

Harry had enjoyed sitting back and watching the mayhem happen, the terror that permeated the air had Harry barely resisting a shiver. Of course, once little Ginny had been taken, Harry had been obligated to accompany his 'best friend' on the rescue mission though even that turned out to be a blessing in disguise. With Ron and Lockhart trapped in the anti-chamber, Harry was able to discover who the perpetrator was alone. The idea that it had been Ginny all along, knowingly or not, filled Harry with unholy glee.

But that pleasure was nothing compared to what he felt when he'd seen a sixteen year old Tom. He knew it was Tom straight away, how could he not? Though the young Dark Lord had been skeptical at first, finding out the boy who destroyed him was now his son, all it had taken was a magical oath for Tom to at least trust him to get the young Voldemort to the older Voldemort.

They'd waited in the Chamber of Secrets until Ginny was completely dead, then Tom had hidden under the invisibility cloak and followed Harry's instructions to get to the Shrieking Shack where he'd stayed for a week while Harry took the professors into the chamber, told them he'd found Ginny dead with the diary and finished up his last week of school. Tom, still using the invisibility cloak, had been no more than a foot away from Harry all the way from Hogsmeade station to London.

They'd waited until the platform was completely deserted before descending from the train and meeting the possessed Vernon Dursley. After that, things had been easy, with the young Tom Riddle having his own body filled with the same blood as Salazar Slytherin granted them access to the hidden Slytherin Manor. It had only taken a short yet painful ritual to merge the Voldemorts young and old into one being with the added extra of Harry's blood so it wouldn't hurt him to be near his father now that Voldemort had his own body back. He now looked like the aristocrat he was supposed to be, high cheek bones and soft hair, the only thing that had remained were the beautiful crimson eyes.

That had been the best summer Harry had ever had, they'd spent the entire holidays on the Slytherin estate studying the dark arts and just enjoying each others company as they could only see each other during the summer. Dumbledore had to believe Harry hated his relatives, which he did, but Dumbledore wouldn't think that if Harry was going home for Christmas and Easter. Voldemort had even blood adopted him that summer, with a dark ritual Harry had found the library.

Harry was already cute before he became the Dark Lord's biological son but the only way to describe him after the adoption was beautiful. His looks were too feminine to be truly handsome but he was still striking with long luscious hair, so black it shone blue in the light, a cute little button nose and full pink lips that could tempt even the most heterosexual of men. However it was his eyes that made most people loose their breath, those sparkling orbs had become even more luminous, rivalling even the brightest emerald.

Harry looked like the perfect Dark Prince.

Then had come Harry's third year and with it, the escape of Sirius Black. Voldemort had explained what the population believed about Black and how it was really Pettigrew who'd betrayed the Potters but even the Dark Lord was clueless as to why Sirius would blow up a street full of muggles.

It had only been two weeks before the end of the year when Harry had meet Sirius in the Shrieking Shack and heard the whole story. Trelawney's prediction had made sense when he fully understood what had transpired all those years ago. Harry knew the rat would make his way to Harry's father and made sure Voldemort and Nagini would both kill on sight.

As Harry and the mudblood had freed Sirius, Harry had slipped two notes into his pocket. One telling Sirius where to go and another to give to the man he would meet there. He could only hope that Sirius wouldn't throw too big of a fit over Harry's new father. Harry would hate to have to kill him, which he would do if Sirius proved too much of a problem.

***

Luckily Sirius, after his initial explosion, had accepted the situation with a surprising amount of ease. His reasoning being that he'd never fully trusted Dumbledore but he'd ignored his instinctual mistrust, pushing it aside as left over lessons from his childhood that he couldn't quite shake. He was a Black after all and had been raised to hate Dumbledore, the muggle-loving fool. But now Sirius had no problem seeing the headmaster for who he really was. Dumbledore, having cast the Fidelius charm over Godric's Hollow, knew exactly who the real secret keeper had been and had still allowed Sirius to go to prison. They speculated that this was because Sirius would be given custody of Harry and give Harry a happy life, give Harry his independence which Dumbledore couldn't allow to happen. Dumbledore needed his weapon.

The rest of the summer had passed relatively smoothly, with Sirius causing little to no problems. Although he missed James, he couldn't begrudge Harry the happiness he'd found with Voldemort even if Voldemort wouldn't have been his first choice, he couldn't deny his godson was happy. Sirius had even willing joined in the 'bonding activity' when Wormtail had finally turned up, it turned out that the Black upbringing hadn't left him as untouched as he'd first thought. He knew he had always been darker than his friends and he'd kept his opinions about Lily and other muggleborns to himself but to enjoy the pain of another human being was slightly more than he'd ever expected but it didn't matter. His dark side had been accepted and even encouraged by Harry in a way it never had been with James. James just ignored it and pretended it wasn't there. Harry accepted him for who he was. Just like Sirius would always accept and love Harry, no matter what.

Everything was going rather perfectly in Harry's opinion. Voldemort was ever so slowly summoning more and more Death Eater to meetings, establishing a solid power base before he let the world know he was back. And with Sirius around, Harry had someone to keep him company when his father was holding those meetings. Harry found almost a big brother type figure in Sirius. He was far too playful to take on a fatherly role but his age and experience made it unusual for him to be only a friend. He was made to be a big brother, or maybe a slightly insane uncle that came round and told dirty jokes.

Harry regretted telling the Weasels he'd go with them to the world cup but there was no way he could say no. He was supposed to be with abusive muggles, what neglected child wouldn't jump at the chance to go and stay with his friends?

The match itself had been interesting but if would have much preferred to be there with his father and Sirius instead of a bunch of blood traitors and a mudblood. Though he was given pause for thought when he saw a hand appear out of thin air and steal Granger's wand out of her back pocket. He couldn't hold in his smirk as he pictured the girl's face when she realised her wand was missing.

The rest of the evening been rather boring. Listening to Ron wax poetic about the Bulgarian seeker while Hermione pretended to be indifferent had not exactly been Harry idea of entertainment, but once the riot started Harry didn't know whether to be furious or amused.

It obviously hadn't been planned by the Dark Lord or Harry would have been told but he couldn't deny it was funny, he'd barely held onto his laughter as the muggle woman had been turned upside down, exposing her bloomers for all to see.

As soon as the group of teenagers reached the woods, Harry slipped away and hovered near the edge of the forest. Watching the Death Eaters toy with the muggles and duelling with the wizards trying to stop them. He could see Bill and Charlie making a show of what they were doing but anyone who stopped long enough to actually look at what they were doing would notice that their spells were 'accidentally' hitting the light sided fighters. When Harry had first met the older Weasley siblings a few days ago he could sense a darker inclination to them but this was just proof.

He tried to count the number of people in masks but they were all moving too quickly, however there couldn't possibly be more than ten. These must be still unaware of his father's return, they didn't realise how far this could set his father's plans back. Harry and his father wanted the magical world to be caught unaware. That wasn't going to happen if people like this kept popping up to cause trouble.

"Fools." Harry hissed, just the smallest bit of parseltongue slipping through, making his annoyance obvious. "Don't they realise just what they're risking?"

"And what are they risking?" Asked a voice from behind, causing Harry to whirl round, his wand already in hand and a dark curse just waiting on his lips. "And who are you really?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, scrutinizing the man before him. His was tall and thin, his clothes were of the best quality but it was obvious he didn't care too much about his appearance. His shaggy brown hair looked like it hadn't had a real cut in a great many years and it hung into intelligent brown eyes. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat and he was almost overcome with the desire to count each and every freckle on that strong nose with his tongue. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" A speculative glint entered those brown eyes as he examined the young boy who looked more like his Lord than a Potter.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, trying to get a grasp of the conversation.

"Oh, I do apologise." Said the man with a roguish grin that made Harry's heart stutter before resuming its beating at double the speed. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Barty Crouch Junior."