Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter cause if I did, Ginny would have died in the CoS, Dumbledore would have choked on a lemon drop, and Harry would have been evil.

"Dialogue"

Parseltongue

Hey babes, so this is a new story that I've started on. I will be keeping up with Broken Strings, but I have put BitSP on hiatus for now. I hope it's okay, please let me know what you think.

HPHPHP

All Harry could do was stare in horror as Voldemort was reborn. He watched as the man put his robe on and collected his wand from Wormtail. When Voldemort turned to look at him, Harry couldn't avoid flinching, the gravestone digging further into his back. Harry was shocked to find that he wasn't scared, but overwhelmed by the power that Voldemort had. That was true power, dominating all those around it. Harry felt a tingling in his head, like he was trying to remember something, but it was pushed away before he could dwell on it. Crimson eyes focused on him intently, becoming his whole focus.

"Harry Potter." Said boy shivered in pleasure at the man's voice, deep and seductive. Harry stopped his thoughts confused, he was supposed to hate this man. Once again, the pressure in his head built up, then faded away.

Voldemort walked closer until he was right in front of Harry, then his brows furrowed in confusion.

"What is this," Voldemort mumbled and waved his wand over Harry. A parchment appeared in his hand and Voldemort read it over, glancing at Harry in shock.

Harry had no warning, Voldemort cast a spell and suddenly an excruciating pain exploded in his head. It felt like a damn had broken and thoughts and memories came rushing forward. The pain grew to be too much for Harry and he passed out, welcoming the darkness. Voldemort watched as Harry fell unconscious and thought about everything that had happened. When he cast the diagnostic spell, he had been surprised to see that Harry had multiple blocks on him. When he cast the spell, the block on Harry was broken and all of the memories came flooding forward; the glamours covering his appearance fell down and the restraints on his magic disappeared. Not surprising, the boy was unable to stand the pain of his mind being torn to shreds and passed out.

Making a decision, Voldemort commanded Wormtail to clean up everything before apparating to Riddle Manor. Once he had set Harry down on his bed he headed to the meeting room and called for his inner circle. One by one they all appeared until Antonin Dolohov, Barty Crouch JR, Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and Severus Snape all stood in front of him.

"Hello my followers, tonight was the night of my return, but something else has happened. It came to my attention that Harry Potter had multiple blocks on him, including obliviates, magic restraints, compulsion and obedience spells, and glamours on his appearance. I took down the blocks and Potter passed out from the pain of it all."

Voldemort watched his follower's reactions and wasn't surprised to see that all faces were confused. It is taboo to restrain a wizard's magic and it was clear that Potter had that and much more done.

Severus was the first to ask, "My lord, where is Potter now?"

"He is currently unconscious in my bedroom. I have yet to see the results of his blocks being destroyed since he was not awake."

"What do you plan on doing with him now, my lord?"

Voldemort glanced over to Lucius, "I'm not sure yet, I will wait to see him without the blocks." Turning his attention back to Severus, "Do you know if Dumbledore knows about the restraints?"

"No, my lord, he has never talked to me about them."

Distracted as they were, no one noticed the dark power that had been steadily growing until it was right outside of the door. The inner circle lifted up their wands to the door and waited to see what was on the other side, the power thick and caressing their skin.

The entry doors swung open and Harry Potter walked in. He looked so different, almost feminine with a lithe form, flawless skin, and silky, long hair. His face was that of a pureblood; his lips a perfect red pout, cheekbones sharp and high, but the most noticeable difference was his eyes. They were the color of death, avada green, but with black cracks striking throughout them. His glasses no longer there hiding his eyes. He had transfigured his clothes and was wearing all black in leather pants, dragonhide boots, and a silk shirt that showed off prominent collarbones.

Voldemort and his followers broke out of the trance from shock when Harry moved. He moved gracefully, lightly skipping forward while sucking on a blood pop. When Harry seemed to notice that everyone was staring at him, he let out a giggle and dashed to hide behind a pillar.

Glancing at each other in shock, they all looked to Voldemort to see what to do. Standing up, Voldemort called out for Harry who merely let out another giggle and stayed hidden.

"Harry, I know you're there, could you come over here."

The boy laughed and started skipping again, this time going around and around everyone.

Voldemort felt his frustration growing and yelled before he could stop himself. "Stop moving so much boy and stand still."

It was like a switch had flipped and Harry froze, the sweet smile on his face disappearing. The look was replaced with a new one, one where his eyes were all black and the smile seemed forced. When he spoke, it was in a haunting childlike manner that sent a feeling of dread down everyone's back.

"You're a freak Harry, a freak who will never be loved. Get in your cupboard Harry, it's where trash like you belong. Harry, go do your chores. No food for you Harry, freaks deserve to starve, yes they do Harry."

His voice became more desperate, pleading for help.

"Take off your pants boy. No Uncle Vernon, please I'm sorry. Shut up boy and do as you're told. Please Uncle, stop it hurts, take it out. Freaks like you make the best whores boy, now open your mouth." Another laugh, broken and forced.

His face became apathetic, voice cold and sharp.

"Please sir, don't make me go back there. Harry, it's for the best, you need the protection of the blood wards. Sir, I'm begging you. No Harry, you have to go back, no arguing."

Finally, Voldemort couldn't stay silent and watch Harry torture himself any longer. "Harry! Listen to me, can you hear me? I need you to calm down."

Black eyes met crimson ones and Harry began to laugh. His eyes turning back to green with black cracks still prominent and he started to skip around again.

"Of course Tom, I can do that. Oh no! I don't have my lollipop anymore." His eyes started to fill with tears and he looked up at Voldemort. Getting over his shock at being called Tom, Voldemort sighed then sat back down on his throne.

"Harry," looking up, the boy saw that Voldemort had conjured a blood pop and was holding it out. Letting out a gasp of happiness, Harry runs up and jumps on Voldemort's lap, effectively straddling him. Without taking the pop from Voldemort's hand, Harry just leaned forward and started sucking it.

Voldemort froze and stared down at Harry, not quite sure what to do. Glancing up, he saw that his inner circle would be no help. They were all staring up at the two with their mouths hanging open, trying to process all that had just happened. Looking back to the boy on his lap, Voldemort felt a streak of lust and had to hold back a groan when they boy shifted to get in a better position.

Deciding that the best way to handle the situation would be to ask Harry nicely to get off, Voldemort cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Harry, would you please get up from my lap."

Said boy glanced up and tears started to form in his eyes, "Why can't I stay with you? Do you not like me?"

"No, I didn't mean that, I just thought I could conjure you a chair to sit in."

Harry suddenly jumped up and started crying as he ran out the room. Everyone stood still in shock, their minds trying to figure out what had just happened. Stressed out, Voldemort just sent everyone away, saying that they would pick up the meeting the next day. He started up to his room and stopped near the teen's door, debating whether or not to check on him and decided not to. That night the Dark Lord dreamt of colors; flashes of avada green, blood red, and pitch black.