When a Voldemort in his thirties encounters a time-travelling, seventeen-year-old Harry Potter, he makes a dangerous—and hilarious—assumption. He assumes that Harry is his son. And his son, of course, deserves the very best.
Learn more about the American Heart Association's efforts to reduce death caused by heart disease and stroke. Also learn about cardiovascular conditions, ECC and CPR, donating, heart disease information for healthcare professionals, caregivers, and educators and healthy living. And with a crack, he was gone. Hermione went back up to her bedroom as she hyperventilated and futilely tried to fight off tears. What had she done! She drove away Harry, the best thing that had ever happened to her, because she assumed that she was correct in her assumptions!
A confused Harry plays along for the sake of self-preservation, but living with his “father” is proving to be intolerable in more ways than one.
“You are mine,” Voldemort said gently, and smiled when Harry flinched. So the boy did know Voldemort, after all. He knew Voldemort was to be feared. “I will look after you, my own.”
“I don’t belong to you,” Harry spat, despite his fear. Oh, what a delight he was! He was no cowering, simpering sycophant, like Voldemort’s other followers; no, this child had a spine of steel. Not many could stand before Voldemort without quailing.
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“You are my son,” Voldemort declared. “Of course you belong to me. Your every cell, your every fibre, your every heartbeat. You are mine in flesh and blood and soul. You are mine in magic. And you will not deny me.”
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Now with Chinese and Portugese translations, and featuring art by Mona and Hypnodisc!