---
Chapter 122 — Voldemort's Cub!!
"You're lying," Voldemort hissed.
"The Philosopher's Stone is in your right pocket.
It seems you truly don't care about this precious brother of yours."
His wand snapped up.
A bolt of red light shot straight toward Darren—
—but struck off course.
Because Harry had thrown himself at him, tackling Quirrell's body with everything he had.
The moment Harry made contact, Voldemort felt Quirrell's skin blister and peel under him.
Quirrell shrieked in agony.
"Dumbledore!"
Of course.
It had to be Dumbledore's work.
That old fool actually dared give a child the power to burn him on contact?
To let a boy assault the Dark Lord head-on?!
And why—why couldn't he touch Harry Potter?
Was it the prophecy?
Voldemort screamed with fury.
Quirrell's body finally gave way and collapsed into ash.
Voldemort tore free as a black, vaporous wraith and streaked forward—passing straight through Harry.
Even if he couldn't take the Philosopher's Stone, he would at least crush Harry Potter's soul, break him, kill him—
But as he passed through the boy's body, something pushed him back, repelled him violently.
He fled the chamber in a single, furious burst.
He would need a new vessel.
Another way to restore himself.
But this trip to Hogwarts had not been without gain.
For he had discovered something far more important than the Stone:
He had a child.
He didn't yet understand the details.
Perhaps something truly had happened the night he attacked the Potters.
He was in such a state of triumph then—he barely remembered half the things he did.
Maybe some follower had brought Lily to him.
Maybe in that chaos, something had occurred.
The night the Death Eaters stole the infant Darren, they had released smoke bombs and whisked the child away so quickly he never even looked at him.
If only he had checked.
Maybe the boy would've been raised by pure-blood supporters instead of… this.
Voldemort seethed at the thought.
And something else gnawed at him.
Had the Order of the Phoenix truly accidentally lost the child?
James Potter wasn't weak—at least not compared to ordinary Death Eaters.
And he had siblings—Potters who were notorious for carving down Death Eaters during battles.
That was exactly why Voldemort had taken Lily—to break them.
With so many powerful protectors, how had Darren been stolen?
Unless… they allowed it.
Perhaps they wanted him to unknowingly destroy his own bloodline.
The idea made Voldemort's rage twist into something cold and violent.
When he was young, he despised children—weak, needy, bothersome creatures.
He never planned to have any.
He would become eternal; heirs were irrelevant.
But wandering half-alive in Albania had done strange things to him.
For the first time, he had felt a flicker of desire for an heir—a cub to inherit his power.
He could possess animals, but not take form as a father.
Not until Quirrell.
And now—now, that desire burned fiercely.
He, Lord Voldemort, would never have fallen so low if he had had a proper heir.
He remembered the exact moment he first saw Darren.
At the Sorting Ceremony.
Harry Potter's younger brother—yet sorted into Slytherin.
That alone had made Voldemort curious enough to glance at him.
And that one glance stunned him.
The boy carried his bloodline's magic.
His aura.
His talent.
A long-awaited cub.
Voldemort had stared for a long time.
After that, he began observing Darren during Defence Against the Dark Arts.
The boy was remarkable.
He wielded minor dark magic as naturally as breathing—first-year magic, yes, but the fluency was undeniable.
Such instinct could not be called genius.
It was inheritance.
He began slipping harmless dark spells into Quirrell's stuttering lessons, curious to see what the boy would do.
Every time, Darren exceeded expectations.
Other professors whispered about Darren too.
Brilliant.
Talented.
Top of every subject.
His child.
Undeniably his blood.
But the happiness didn't last.
A few days later, Harry Potter had the audacity to drag Darren into Gryffindor Tower—in front of everyone.
The arrogance!
This was Slytherin House—home of cunning, ambition, and ancient rules.
A Gryffindor lion dragging a Slytherin without permission?!
Voldemort nearly blasted him with an immediate Avada Kedavra just on principle.
How dare he disrupt the traditions of his House.
How dare he pull away his cub.
He even commanded Quirrell to ask Snape to discipline the boy—
but Snape, ever wary, had fled the moment he felt Voldemort's attention.
Stupid cub.
He deserved punishment for recklessness!
But then Quirrell reported something peculiar:
the student council president Snape had been looking for had been saved by Darren.
So the boy had been heroic, had he?
Fine.
Punishment could wait.
The next day, Voldemort watched with interest.
And what he saw shocked him.
Slytherin students—cold, ambitious, politically minded students—
ignored the fact Darren had been dragged to Gryffindor.
Instead, they treated him as if nothing had happened.
How?
Had Slytherin House lost its edge?
Or was Darren simply that dominant within it?
Because when Professor McGonagall gifted Harry a broom, Darren's tiny, envious expression had been impossible to miss.
So Voldemort instructed Quirrell to buy one for Darren.
He imagined Darren's delight.
He imagined his cub soaring proudly through the sky.
But then—
The next morning, hundreds of owls flooded the Slytherin table.
Dozens of brooms piled up before Darren from students all over the school.
Voldemort was stunned.
This boy—so gentle he was practically foolish—
and yet so many people tried to please him?
To give him gifts?
Even Slytherins, who valued advantage above all else, were competing to buy him a broom.
Had Slytherin become soft?
Or was Darren simply that exceptional?
Voldemort didn't know.
But one thing was certain:
Darren was his cub.
And the wizarding world was already bending to him.
---
--
---
---
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like it ? Add to library!
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!
Creation is hard, cheer me up! VOTE for me!