Heir to Riddle

Chapter 4

Voldemort watched Hayden blast the dummies away, his newly acquired wand trembling slightly in his hand.

"I think that's enough, Hayden," the man held up a hand, and the ten year old stopped. He turned to his father, his breathing harder than normal. His green eyes were gleaming with the need to be approved of, to make his father proud. Voldemort recognized it easily, smiling slightly.

"You've done well." He inclined his head, watching Hayden's face light up. "Rest for a while, and then I have somewhere to take you." The boy nodded, slipping his wand in his dragon-hide holster. He walked over to his father, and the man pulled him into a gentle hug. Hayden leaned into him, pressing his face into his robes. Voldemort smiled softly, putting one hand on the child's head. He heard him hum contentedly, loosely wrapping his small arms around his waist.

"I love magic," the boy sighed after moving his head to the side. "But it is exhausting ." Voldemort chuckled, stroking his hair gently.

"As you practice, it will become easy," he promised, and Hayden looked up at him. "You are already fairly advanced, especially for your young age." Hayden smiled smugly, and his father shook his head.

"Now come," he said, once he felt like Hayden was rested enough. "I have a surprise for you. Do try to not be too shocked." The boy tilted his head but followed his father as the man swept from the room.

When they passed through an unfamiliar door, Voldemort's form shifted. Hayden nearly froze at the vast difference. Now, they looked much more similar, except for their eyes, and his father looked...disturbingly human. And handsome. No wonder Hayden looked so pleasing, even at ten.

"What is that, father?" he asked quietly, and his father glanced back at him.

"A glamour," he explained, gesturing to one of the mirrors on the wall. Hayden was stunned to see that he had changed, too. "It is dangerous for us to look like our usual selves." Hayden nodded, storing his questions in a small portion of his mind for later.

Two more doors and countless hallways later, and his father stopped outside of a new, strange door that looked nothing like the others.

"Hayden," Voldemort said hesitantly, not turning to the child. "Remember that I had followers once?"
"Of course, father," Hayden nodded, frowning. Why was this relevant?

"One of my most faithful has a son just a bit older than you."

Oh.

Oh.

"You mean...?" Hayden's eyes were wide, and Voldemort finally turned to smile at him.

"I do. If you wish to leave, simply tell me and we shall go, understood?" his father laid a hand on his shoulder, and the boy nodded faintly. He was going to meet someone his age! Who wasn't his father!

Of course, he loved his father, but sometimes he was just...too busy.

"Good," Voldemort let out a breath, then opened the door and led his son inside.