A Devil Takes Care of His Own

Chapter 1: A Father's Awakening

Klaus Mikaelson was used to being in control, a master of his fate, a creature of immense power. For centuries, he had carved a path of blood and domination, ruthlessly protecting what was his. Family had always been complicated for Klaus, defined by betrayal, love, and power. But as he held the small, fragile form of his son, Harry, in his arms, something deep inside him shifted. For the first time in a thousand years, Klaus Mikaelson felt truly vulnerable.

He glanced down at the boy—his boy—still swaddled in the basket that had been left on the doorstep. Harry's tiny hand clutched the fabric of Klaus's shirt, a quiet trust radiating from the child, though he had no way of understanding what was happening. At just fifteen months old, Harry couldn't comprehend the loss of his parents, the danger he'd been placed in, or the power of the man who now cradled him in the darkness. But Klaus understood.

Klaus inhaled sharply, his heightened senses alert as he scanned the street once more, his mind replaying the words from the letter. He knew how this night would have played out if he hadn't arrived—how his son would have been raised by the Dursleys, enduring neglect, cruelty, and hatred from a family that had no right to him. His teeth ground together at the thought, his protective instincts flaring.

"No one will ever hurt you," Klaus muttered under his breath, his voice a low, dangerous promise.

Behind him, Rebekah and Elijah stood watch, silent but ever-present, their own emotions carefully guarded. For all their dysfunction, the Mikaelsons had always been a family bound by loyalty—sometimes to the point of obsession. And now, Klaus's child was their child. Elijah had been the first to grasp the depth of what this meant for their family, his stoic mask betraying a flicker of concern for both Harry and for Klaus.

"Elijah," Klaus said without looking back, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling in his mind. "We need to move quickly. We don't know how much time we have before someone comes looking for him."

"Agreed," Elijah said smoothly, stepping forward. "I've already made arrangements. We'll take Harry somewhere safe. The Dursleys won't even realize he's gone until it's too late."

Klaus nodded, reassured by his brother's efficiency. Elijah was many things—a moral compass, a strategist, and, above all, fiercely protective of their family. He had already anticipated Klaus's next move, and for that, Klaus was grateful.

But as they prepared to leave, Rebekah spoke up, her voice tinged with rare emotion. "What happens now, Nik?" she asked, her eyes fixated on Harry's small face. "Raising a child... it's not something we've ever had to do. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Klaus hesitated, staring down at his son's innocent, sleeping form. It wasn't the first time the weight of fatherhood had pressed against him. He had thought about it fleetingly before, in those rare moments when he considered what it would be like to have a child of his own blood. But now that it was real, now that Harry was here in his arms, the reality of it felt overwhelming. Klaus had seen what it meant to be a parent, how love for a child could turn into weakness—something he had always despised.

But as Harry stirred in his sleep, a small sigh escaping his lips, Klaus's heart hardened. This wasn't weakness. This was something different.

"I may not know everything about raising a child," Klaus admitted softly, his voice low and dangerous, "but I do know one thing: I will protect him. Harry is mine, and I will destroy anyone who dares to try and take him from me."

Rebekah nodded, understanding the weight of those words. "And what of his world? His future? He's a wizard, Nik. There's an entire world out there waiting for him—one we can't fully control."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes," Klaus said, his tone final. "For now, we focus on getting him away from here."

The night was quiet as the three siblings made their way down the suburban street, Harry nestled securely in Klaus's arms. Klaus could hear the faint sound of televisions humming inside the nearby houses, unaware of the supernatural beings that moved like shadows past their doors. The normalcy of this place disgusted him. This was not the life his son deserved. Harry was destined for more than this—a life free of neglect, a future free of the expectations placed on him by those who didn't know his worth.

As they reached the car waiting at the end of the street, Elijah opened the door, his movements as precise as ever. "There's a safe house outside London," he explained as Klaus slid into the back seat with Harry. "It's secure, and no one will be able to trace him there. I've also taken the liberty of wiping any record of Harry's arrival here."

Klaus nodded, his mind racing. He was still trying to process the enormity of everything—his newfound role as a father, the responsibilities that came with it, and the danger that still lurked around every corner. The wizarding world wouldn't take long to notice Harry's disappearance. Dumbledore, the Ministry—someone would come looking eventually. But Klaus was ready for them.

As the car sped away from Privet Drive, Klaus allowed himself to relax, just for a moment. He glanced down at Harry, the boy's tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath. Klaus couldn't help but smile slightly—an odd feeling, considering the weight of the night.

"You will never want for anything," Klaus whispered, his voice barely audible. "I will make sure you grow strong, powerful. You'll know the love of a family that will protect you with everything we have."

Elijah, sitting in the front seat, glanced back, his expression unreadable. "He'll need more than just protection, Niklaus. He'll need guidance. You may be his father, but you cannot shield him from everything."

"I can try," Klaus muttered darkly, his eyes flashing. "And I will."

Elijah held his gaze for a moment before turning back to the road, his usual calm demeanor betraying a hint of concern. They had never been parents, not in the conventional sense. They had been warriors, leaders, conquerors. But raising a child—especially a child like Harry—would require more than just brute strength and cunning.

As the Mikaelsons disappeared into the night, Klaus knew one thing for certain: Harry Potter's life had just changed forever. The boy who lived was no longer an orphan, no longer a victim of fate. He was a Mikaelson now, and the world would soon feel the consequences of that.

Klaus leaned back in his seat, his grip on Harry tightening protectively. The Dursleys were a memory now, and the wizarding world would come to realize what it meant to cross a Mikaelson.

This was only the beginning.