*Heir to the Serpent Lord*

Chapter 1: A Child's Nightmare

Warning: This chapter contains scenes of child abuse and graphic violence, which may be distressing for some readers. Reader discretion is advised.
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Chained to the cold, blood-stained walls, I could feel my strength draining away. Hungry, freezing, and bleeding out, I wondered how the people who were supposed to love me could do this. The ones who were meant to care for me had reduced me to something lower than a slave—just dirt beneath their feet. Today, they dragged me to the torture chamber in the basement. The small, suffocating room was where they enjoyed watching me suffer.

He—the man I once called "Dad"—but no, I refuse to call him that. He lost that right long ago. And as for her, Mrs. Lara... Neither of them deserves to be called parents. Mr. Ned, as I now force myself to think of him, grabbed me by the neck and dragged me into the room. His grip was cruel, and I could hardly breathe. Mrs. Lara fetched the chains, the same ones they used every time. Chains for my arms, chains for my legs, and last of all, the collar that hung from the ceiling.

Ned lifted me up as Lara locked the collar around my neck, leaving my small, malnourished four-year-old body hanging in the middle of the room. That was when their fun began. They picked their favorite weapons, taking turns torturing me for hours. It never ended until they grew bored.

This time, though, they told me they were finally going to get rid of me. Lara approached and without hesitation, she slit my throat. The blood flowed freely as I dangled helplessly from the ceiling. Then, they started bricking up the only way out of the room. I was still hanging there, bleeding out, while they sealed me inside.

Minutes? Hours? I couldn't tell. Time lost all meaning. But sometime later, the wall they had built burst apart with a deafening crash. I screamed, crying out when small chunks of brick hit me. Two figures in black robes appeared. Their hoods were drawn up, hiding their faces. One of them rushed toward me, and as he pulled his hood back, I saw his face—pale, pointed, with white-blond hair and cold gray eyes. Yet, in those eyes, I saw no malice. Instead, there was warmth, sadness, protectiveness, and a deep anger—but not directed at me.

He slid his hands under my arms, lifting me while the other hooded figure worked to release the chains. The blond man pulled me close to his chest, and for the first time in a long while, I felt safe. My vision blurred from blood loss, and the pain in my throat and body intensified. As I drifted into unconsciousness, I noticed more hooded figures behind him—ten, maybe more—but before I could make sense of anything, darkness took me.

Voldemort's Point of View

"Lucius, what did you and Barty find?" Voldemort asked, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the scene behind Lucius.

Lucius, his voice grim, responded, "It was a torture room, my Lord. Chains and weapons in the middle of the room. The blood is fresh—extremely fresh. The room was sealed up, likely meant to never be opened again. It must have been used only minutes before we started our raid on the Muggle neighborhood."

Voldemort's expression hardened. His gaze shifted to Lucius's arms. "What are you carrying?"

Lucius turned around quickly, revealing the small, broken form of a child. His voice wavered as he spoke. "My Lord, the child... his throat has been cut."

Voldemort's eyes darkened, but his tone remained firm. "Give him to me. Severus, Narcissa—come with me."

Before leaving, Voldemort gave Lucius a final command. "You are in charge of the raid now."

Slytherin Castle

Inside the grand chamber of Slytherin Castle, a flurry of activity ensued. Severus, Narcissa, and a team of trusted Death Eater healers rushed in and out of the opulent room. The child—the small, broken boy—lay on a massive Alaskan king-size bed, his frail body battered, bruised, and scarred beyond recognition.

Healers cast spell after spell, their wands weaving intricate healing charms. Snape poured various potions down the child's throat, each one intended to counteract the abuse and save the boy's life. After three grueling hours, the healers finally bowed to their Dark Lord and left the room. The only ones remaining were Severus, Narcissa, Voldemort, and Lucius, who had just entered.

Lucius approached his wife and addressed Voldemort. "My Lord, the raid was a success. Most of the Death Eaters have gone to... handle what we believe to be the boy's parents. However, I decided to bring them to the dungeons so you could decide their fate."

Voldemort moved to the boy's side, sitting at the edge of the bed. Gently, he ran his fingers through the boy's matted hair, a soft smile forming on his lips. "I haven't told anyone this yet," Voldemort began, his voice low. "But I've been searching for an heir. I believe... I want to adopt him and make him the heir to the Slytherin line."

A ripple of surprise ran through the room. Narcissa's eyes lit up, her voice filled with excitement. "A young Lord... we're going to have a young Lord!"

Lucius smiled at his wife, "Of course, my beautiful Narcissa."

Suddenly, a giant snake slithered into the room, its scales glistening in the dim light. $Nagini, my dear, where have you been?$ Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue.

$Master,$ Nagini hissed back, $there were so many coming in and out of the room. What happened?$

Nagini slid onto the bed, curling protectively around the boy. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the air. $A hatchling...$ she hissed softly. $How? And why is he so hurt? Who did this to him?$

$He is going to be my son, Nagini. My heir. What do you think?$ Voldemort responded.

$You have chosen well, Master. He has the most powerful magical core I have ever felt for one so young. But I sense something... foul in his core.$ Nagini hissed in concern.

$I am glad you approve,$ Voldemort said, his tone thoughtful. $When he wakes, we'll have the goblins examine him. We'll perform a blood adoption and conduct an inheritance test. Whatever darkness is in him, we will fix it.$

$When he wakes, Master, may I give him one of my hatchlings to care for him?$ Nagini hissed softly, her concern palpable.

$Of course,$ Voldemort replied, smiling at the thought. $He will need a companion.$