All eyes widened as the beaten boy stepped out from the shadows of the trees. He still held his head high, despite the fact that quite a few bones were clearly broken, and several cuts and bruises marred his pale skin. He had a slash right across his eye, the cut running through his eyebrow, over his eye and down his neck. His eye was untouched however. The green orbs were staring straight into the ruby red ones.

"Stop killing them..." The boy whispered, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to make it bold. "I have come." The black haired boy hung his head, his messy locks falling into his grime covered face. Voldemort, said nothing. He could only stare at the raven beauty, who was standing so willingly in front of him, his head bowed in submission. Red eyes drank in the sight. The boy was not tall. He had muscle pointing through his slightly singed T-shirt and his leg muscles were clear through his worn jeans. His hands were clenching and unclenching, and through their bond, the dark lord could sense the boys fear.

Do it. Just do it now. The boys voice rang through the serpent man's head, mingling with his thoughts. He is waiting for me to kill him. Voldemort realized with a start. He cocked his head slightly to the side, as if trying to determine if the boy was actually there, or just an illusion.

"Harry Potter..." He hissed softly, and he felt great satisfaction at seeing the boy flinch. All his followers held their breaths, waiting, with the exception of Bellatrix, who was practically jumping up and down in her excitement. All Voldemort could concentrate on was Harry, who was visibly beginning to shake, but held the boy held his ground. The world around the Dark Lord was beginning to fade, everything around Harry blurring slightly. He felt slightly drawn to the boy, and suddenly he felt like Tom Riddle again, staring at the Slytherin locket right after he had turned it into a Horcrux. He had felt very obsessive over it, and he had felt his soul whispering to him from the gold. For some very strange reason, he felt the exact same way about the boy standing in front of him. He had no clue what it meant, so he tried to shake the strange feeling off.

"Have you come... to die?" He whispered, and the raven raised his hands to show that he did not have a wand.

DO IT, you coward. The boys voice came again, and Voldemort growled. Fenrir Grayback, an alpha werewolf, jumped slightly at the low, wolf sounding warning. The snake man narrowed his eyes at the boy.

"Tell me, Potter." He spat. "Why do you still fight? Nearly all your loved ones are dead, and soon, you shall join them."

"Because," The boy whispered softly. "I know I will die from the snake bite, but Id rather keep going until the venom kicks in, then just lay down and wait for death to claim me." Voldemort's eyes widened. A sharp tap on his shoulder caused him to turn around. Lucius Malfoy stood there, with a dead look on his face, his eyes glassy. Voldemort scanned his Death Eaters, and they were all wearing the same expressions. Bellatrix was still jumping up and down, but her body was stiff, her arms frozen at her sides. His gaze snapped frantically back at Potter, who was too wearing the blank face. He turned around and started walking away, his movements robotic.

"POTTER!" Voldemort bellowed, charging after the retreating figure. He caught up with the boy, and spun him around to face him, his skeletal fingers digging into the boys shoulders. Suddenly warmth sped up his fingers, up his arms, and warmed his chest. Ruby eyes widened even more. He only got this feeling when he touched... when he touched... One of his... Horcruxes.

"Potter?" The Dark Lord muttered, staring at the boy in disbelief. One of Harry's fingers came up to trace the older man's jaw bone.

"I liked you better when you looked like Tom." The boy murmured, before spinning around again and walking away. Voldemort, surprise etched clearly on his face, tried to make another grab for the boy, but his hands went straight through the boy's shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Voldemort cried, hating how weak he sounded, but he didn't care. He tried running after, but it was like he was running on one of those muggle treadmills.

"To the Whinty forest," The boy called over his shoulder, his image fading away. "Back to my body."

"Your body?" Voldemort managed to choke out, and then everything went black, and he was falling, falling, falling.

With a gasp Voldemort sat up in bed. Harry Potter was a Horcrux, and if dream Potter had been correct, and they were in Whinty forest, than that was were he was going, to collect what was rightfully his.