Warning: This chapter includes the use of a cutting curse, and just violence in general. If you don't want to read, go to the end for a short summery so you don't miss anything :)
"Quickly Harry, I won't have any dawdling."
A ten year old boy with ink black hair and glasses he had only stopped wearing a few years ago quickened his pace to keep up with the long strides of his father.
The floors of Riddle manor were cold on his bare feet, having only just woken up. The legs of his pyjamas were an inch too short, and he reminded himself to ask one of the elves to fix it. He pushed his hair out of his face absently and wondered where he and his father were going in the early hours of the morning.
"What're we doing father?" Harry asked through a yawn, rubbing his eyes.
Voldemort looked back, only tugging the small boy gently by the arm, a silent reminder to keep walking. Eventually, they came to a small room Harry had never been in before. The walls were bare and white, as were the floors. It must've been lit with magic, because there were no muggle lamps creating the bright white light.
"Father what..." Harry trailed off as the door closed and he noticed they were not alone in the room.
A tiny house elf, almost swallowed by its ears stood shivering and cowering, small whimpers coming from it every so often. Harry's eyes widened when he recognised the elf.
"Dobby!" he exclaimed. Draco's house elf whom he so dearly loved.
Dobby looked up, glancing between Voldemort and Harry.
"Dobby is not knowing why he is here," he said in a small voice, "If Dobby has been a bad elf Dobby will punish himself-"
He stopped when Voldemort held up a hand, silencing him.
Harry looked to his father, "Father, why is Dobby here? Has he been a bad elf?"
Voldemort was silent for a moment, before kneeling down so he was level with Harry's face. When they were close like this, Harry's stomach jumped in excitement and pride that he could see his own features in his father's face.
"Harry, that is exactly the lesson I want you to learn today," Voldemort said softly.
Harry's brow furrowed, "What?"
"Dobby has not been a bad elf, in fact, Dobby has been an exceptional elf." The sound of Dobby exclaiming in delight could be heard, and Harry smiled. "But despite that," Voldemort went on, "he must die."
Harry's smile dropped instantly, and his stomach plummeted in dread and confusion.
"I don't understand-" Harry said, "If he's been a good elf then why-"
"That is what I want to teach you Harry," Voldemort said, cutting him off. "In the future, when you're older and more experienced, you will be performing missions for me, do you remember we discussed this?"
Harry nodded, briefly recalling a conversation between the both of them about how Harry's training would change when he turned eleven, how the simple spells, potions, and charms would morph into curses designed to kill, and kill painfully. Harry had pushed this conversation out of his mind and did not enjoy being reminded of it.
"Well when that time comes, you will have to kill people that may not have done anything wrong," Voldemort said bluntly, no hidden meanings, no covering the truth. "You have a rather unfortunate sense of empathy that will make that quite difficult. This lesson now is to teach you that no matter how good of an elf someone has been, you only listen to me."
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Son of a Lord
Fanfiction"I will take the very one that was meant to destroy me, who was prophesized to be my doom. I will take him and make him loyal to me and me only. " Harry Potter was stolen that fateful Halloween night. Sixteen years later and he is the son of the Dar...
