The Dark Lord's Secret Love

Chapter One: In the Ministry

Lord Voldemort, formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, was angry. His Death Eaters had spoiled another of his evil plots. They had let the Potter brat smash the prophecy he'd so desperately needed. To try to salvage his latest scheme he'd actually had to apparate into the Ministry of Magic, risking exposure of his return to all of wizarding Britain. As he cast the Avada Kedavra curse to try to finish off his fifteen-year-old nemesis once and for all, a statue leapt between the curse and the teenager, alerting him to an all-too-familiar presence.

"What---?" said Voldemort, staring around. And then he breathed, "Dumbledore!"

Voldemort raised his wand and sent another jet of green light at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak; next second he had reappeared behind Voldemort.

The Dark Lord felt a weight on one side of his cloak, but ignored it. When one was dueling one's worst enemy, or anybody else for that matter, it was not uncommon for clothing to get snagged on random objects. If his robes were torn, he would just have to repair them later.

"It was foolish of you to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly. "The aurors are on their way-"

"By which time I shall be gone, and you dead!" spat Voldemort. He sent another killing curse at Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flame. Who did this muggle-loving old fool think he was?

Dumbledore flicked his own wand. Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect the spell. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gonglike note reverberated from it, an oddly chilling sound…

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. "Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit."

As ominous as this proclamation sounded to the Dark Lord, he continued to fight. The struggle persisted, curses flying. Voldemort tried nearly every trick in his repertoire, his rage at his former professor apparent in every flick of his wand. All of his spells and curses were of no use; Dumbledore was amazingly agile for a man of such an advanced age.

Suddenly, the Dark Lord had an epiphany. He would possess the Potter boy! Preparing to enter the very body of his nemesis, Lord Voldemort drew a deep breath, to steady his jangling nerves. Then, with his mind, he took control of the young Gryffindor's consciousness.

The boy was in agony, and Voldemort reveled in the child's pain. He knew he had that muggle-loving fool Dumbledore at a disadvantage, so he decided to use the leverage it afforded him. Dumbledore would never willingly harm the precious Harry Potter, victor over the Dark Lord.

"Kill me now, Dumbledore," taunted Lord Voldemort gleefully, using Harry Potter's mouth to form the words. "If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…"

The Dark Lord could tell that the boy was giving in to death. Lord Voldemort had always known that Harry Potter was weak. The boy's little bit of luck could never compare with his own sheer power. The boy would not be able to stand the pain much longer. Soon, he would be with his precious godfather…

As the Dark Lord's thought drifted into the boy's consciousness, his chest constricted. The air was forced out of his lung, his throat closed painfully, and his eyes watered as he felt a wave of emotion well up in the boy he possessed. He had to get out of there! It was pain beyond all pain, even worse than that he had felt on that fateful night when he had first tried to kill Harry Potter.

Lord Voldemort fled the boy's body. Free from the anguish that was Harry Potter's mind, the Dark Lord disapparated to his humble evil lair.