October 1st 1981
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"My Lord! My Lord! We have it, my Lord!"
A door was flung open. A tall, beautiful woman rushed through it, her thick black hair fluttering behind her as she sped into the room. Her wild eyes looked excitedly towards a black-robed figure seated at the end of the room. The figure twisted suddenly toward her, and the woman's heart seemed to beat infinitely faster as a pair of cold, scarlet eyes focused on her. A skeletal, chalk-white face peered at her, with snake-like nostrils flaring in agitation.
"You found it?" asked Voldemort.
"Yes, master. With the artefact you gave us, how could we fail in our task, great Lord?" said the woman, as she fell to her knees. In her now outstretched arms, lay a lacquered wooden box, decorated with many strange and profound runic symbols.
"Good, very good!", he shouted, as he snatched the box from her hands, ecstasy visible in his blood-red eyes. "You have done very well.", he said as he stared into the woman's heavy-lidded eyes.
"I am pleased with your loyalty, Bellatrix. You shall be rewarded for your devotion.
"But for now, come! Come and watch as your master ascends to true immortality! To true Godhood!
"The ritual has already been prepared. I already have their blood; I acquired it in my seventh year, from the blood pact vial. Prepare Bellatrix, because after today, I shall be the most powerful wizard to ever exist! My rise will be inevitable, my power untold! The blood of Grindelwald, Dumbledore, and now...", as he proclaimed this, he tore open the box.
Blinding golden light, shot out of the box. What seemed to be nearly tangible magical power surged in tsunamis of unending power about them. A maelstrom of magic formed around the box, seemingly, in reverence of the item inside. From within, a fluctuating golden drop rose slowly, seeming to be created of pure, golden energy, swirling with transcendent potency.
"... the blood of Merlin."
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Voldemort stood in the middle of a room, the walls and floor were adorned with uncountable symbols of power, magic coursing through them, such that the entire room seemed to pulse with energy, as if a giant heart beating with magic.
"Sanguine nascimur et sanguine morimur!"
The room seemed to come to life, as the countless runic symbols throbbed with powerful magic.
"Sanguis vires dat; et sanguis dare potest alteri!"
The room began to vibrate, symbols throbbing faster and faster, and a deafening sound was produced, as cascades of magical energy were drawn in, a monumental amount of magic seemed to be held in place in the very air itself.
"Da mihi potestatem hunc sanguinem vincendi!"
The magic in the air appeared to reach a peak, and a whirlpool of magic formed, as the ritual channelled torrents of tremendous magical energy to the centre of the room. As he continued to chant words of power in the ancient languages, four drops appeared in front of him. The dazzling golden drop, that looked as if made of magic itself, two dark red, nearly brown drops with streaks of gold within them, and on the end, a drop of blood, blacker than ink, that seemed to corrupt even the air around it, redeemed only, by the golden streaks upon it.
"Dumbledore and Grindelwald; blood once bound, bind again!"
The 2 dark red drops flew outward and into the centre of the chaotic vortex, where they began to slowly join together, as Voldemort once again spoke.
"Blood of mine own, conquer their blood, take their power!"
Voldemort's blood, darker than night, flew into the maelstrom, and clashed with Dumbledore and Grindelwald's blood. Suddenly, the magic supplied drastically increased, as the blood fought for supremacy in the eye of the vortex. They seemed to be visibly pulling apart, into three separate drops, as Voldemort strained under the massive pressure of the vortex.
"Blood of the Greatest, join with mine, give me the power to rule over all!"
The drop of golden blood, joined the others in the centre of the vortex. Abruptly, the deafening sound disappeared, the monumental burden upon Voldemort had disappeared as if never having existed. As the golden blood, entered the maelstrom, it had instantly absorbed the others, with overpowering force. Now the golden blood slowly rotated in place as it absorbed all the magic left over from the ritual. It no longer appeared to be made of energy, instead, as it absorbed more and more magic, it's form became more and more corporeal.
As the last dregs of magic were absorbed by the blood, the room fell silent, only the rotating golden drop and Voldemort remained, the symbols on the wall, now completely empty and devoid of power. Voldemort stared expectantly at the drop in silence. Suddenly, the drop seemed to explode with magic power, such that even Voldemort himself was shocked. Tides of boundless magic emanated in waves of otherworldly power, seeming to dwarf all things in existence. Soon, a malicious laugh escaped from his lips.
"HAHAHAHA! Unlimited power!"
A deranged expression was plastered on his face, a crazed glint in his scarlet eyes as he reached his long bony fingers towards the drop.
"Yes! You are mine!"
All of a sudden, BOOM! A condensed wave of magic blasted out, as the drop detonated before he could touch it. Voldemort was launched away as the overwhelming magic power struck him. The room was ripped apart and rubble was flung everywhere.
"Master?! Master!", from outside the rubble, that had once been a room, came Bellatrix's voice, "Master, are you okay?!". There was clear panic in her voice as she searched the rubble for her master, and summoned other death eaters.
But within this chaos, the drop of blood, Voldemort's key to Godhood, had disappeared.
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Somewhere above London
The brilliant golden drop appeared in the sky. As it hovered in the air, it looked like it was jerking about violently, first moving in one direction before appearing to be pulled in another, the colour of the drop changed slightly as its' instincts wrestled for control. Curiously, perhaps even unpredicted by Voldemort, the drop had gained a rudimentary form of sentience from it's original 'donors'.
'Quiet!', it thought. The lurching came to a sudden stop, the many 'voices' battling within it also became silent. 'We need a body. A body that can inherit our power, the power of the greatest.'
'A child. He must be talented. But we have to hide. Perhaps... an orphan. Yes, an orphan. They are overlooked, there we can hide.'
A wave of magic power was discharged from the drop, that seemed to spread out and encompass the entire city of London. 'There.', it thought, as it focused upon a particular orphanage, 'That child has great talent, he can already consciously use magic. His body is strong.'
The drop began to spin, before disappearing suddenly.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Wool's Orphanage, London
In a dark, dull grey room, a child of four years old sat 'playing' with his toys. He laughed in giddy joy, as many wooden blocks hovered around him, slowly building up a haphazard pyramid of blocks.
All of a sudden, a luminescent drop of golden blood appeared in mid-air in front of him, startling the boy, causing the blocks to drop from the air, and the half-finished pyramid to topple.
He scrambled to his feet in shock, to face the drop, watching cautiously as it stayed in place in the air. 'What is it?' he thought as he stared at the drop in awe. Despite his wariness, his curiosity got the better of him, as he reached towards the drop, with his chubby, childish hands.
Abruptly, before he could react, the drop rushed at him rapidly, before almost instantaneously entering his body, blowing him back. He lay stunned on the floor for a few seconds, before sudden shrieks of pain escaped from his lips and his body thrashed around incoherently.
If one could see the inside of this child's body at this point, one would see at his heart, a golden drop rapidly revolved at the centre of a strange, archaic three-dimensional core, expanding and fortifying it. His blood evaporated, only to be replaced, by new golden blood. His muscles spasmed violently as pure magic was fed into them, enhancing them and strengthening them. His already blue eyes, now became brighter and were decorated with flecks of electric gold. His hair slowly turn from it's roots to its tips from light brown to pure white, with flecks of gold.
The door was barged open, during this process, for a somewhat chubby middle-aged woman to burst in and begin to question, "Why are yo- ".
But her words were stuck in her throat as she walked in on the boy spasming and shrieking in pain, horrifying her as she stood rooted to the spot. She came to her senses seconds later, as she called, "Mr Bishop, help! Something's wrong with Damien! H-he looks like he's dying!"
A burly old man soon burst into the room, and saw as Damien convulsed in pain on the ground. He easily picked up the small, spasming child in his arms, as he shouted at the woman.
"Quickly, get his bedroom ready, and get the first aid kit, he needs help, he must be having some sort of seizure! Get an ambulance here as well."
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25 minutes later.
"He should be okay now. The convulsing and twitching has stopped, but he's very weak, you need to give him a lot of care, over the next few days.", said a uniformed woman to Mr Bishop, "luckily we got here in time, and his seizure didn't last for over 30 minutes, otherwise that might not be the case, but he is still at risk of injury or even death, if he isn't looked after properly."
"Thank you miss," said Mr Bishop, as he looked at Damien who was now lying in bed, face contorted, with a wet towel on his forehead, "but, can I ask, why did his turn white?"
At this question, the woman looked unsure, "We're not very sure ourselves, but we think that with the extreme stress he was under, caused hormones to be released that bleached his hair white... poor child. Medical records, are not very clear on that subject though."
"Okay, thank you." He said with a sigh.
At this, the woman and her partner left quickly, following Mr Bishop, who escorted the two out of the building. Damien, was left alone in the dark dormitory, to recover. Yet, it would not be so.
Originally, this would be the end of his tale. Killed by the potent magical power inside him, caused by just another of Voldemort's failed rituals. The world had unknowingly lost what could be, the most powerful of all wizards. The story of this world, would go as fate had planned it.
But perhaps, by the design of an unknown omnipotent being, or perhaps on an impulse, a soul entered the boy's body. A soul from another world...