Hey guys! Thanks for the six reviews for the first chapter. I think this story is going to be just as good as TRI. As always, I don't own YuGiOh, or Harry Potter. By now, though, you should know whom they do belong to (but if you don't, go back to chapter 1 and read the disclaimer)

As before…

/Blah/ Spirit to host

/Blah/ Host to spirit


Chapter 2

Torches dimly lit lined the long corridor. One door stood in the flickering shadows against the light on the other side of the hall. A lone figure walked slowly toward the closed door, a hood concealing his fearful face.

The person had every right to be afraid, as he had defied his master, and the last to defy Lord Voldemort…

From an unseen place, a clock chimed midnight and the boy continued his pace, a bit quicker than before. He stopped upon reaching the brass knocker, and then hesitantly, rapped upon the wooden door.

There was no reply from the other side of the door, but that was common. The Dark Lord usually never responded to knocking doors. Slowly, he opened the door; it's hinges creaking with every inch.

He carefully approached the winged chair, sitting solo before a large fire. The chair faced away from the boy, yet he knew who sat in it.

"Come here, Draco," hissed the high, cold voice. Gulping, Draco Malfoy stepped toward the chair.

"Tell me, what had happened a few nights ago? You had told me your plan would work. Did it? Or did you fail to get away with your task like you had done twice before?" Draco said nothing, but Voldemort already knew. "You have failed to kill the Mudblood Hermione Granger like I had instructed – ah, it was yourself who told me that she would be an easy target to kill to gain admittance to the Death Eaters."

Malfoy still said nothing.

"All three of your attempts have been foiled, each one worse than the one before it. And your first attempt…the Hogwarts Entrance Hall, I ask you? Why such an obvious place?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "and then you tried to take out another student in your way. I had admired the attempt there as well, but it was poorly executed. A simple Avada Kedavra would have sufficed; he is, after all, Muggleborn.

"But, we move on, to two nights ago, where you had your victim, Miss Granger where you wanted her. Have you fulfilled your task and you wouldn't be standing here…instead of the direct kill, you resorted to what, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco mumbled something under his breath. Voldemort plowed on, as if he didn't hear a thing.

"Torture, why? It was still a failure, and if Snape hadn't come along, you would have been in Azkaban right now…"

Malfoy looked at his feet, where Nagini was circling him.

"This is your last chance. I am giving you mercy one last time…"

Draco fell to his knees, "Thank you, Master! Thank –"

"Do not thank me. There is someone I wish for you to go with. He will help you carry out your murder. If you fail again…"

"No, my Lord, I will not," said Draco with confidence. He was ready for one last chance, as he had entered the room with the idea of being killed.

"You had better not. Now, someone is waiting for you in the main hall. Tall, glasses, in a dark blue Muggle business suit. He will take you from here."

"Yes, Master. Thank you." Draco bowed and left the room. As he left, another entered.

Unlike the rest of the Death Eaters, this man wore no mask or robe. He himself was in a red pinstripe Muggle suit and tie, his gray hair slicked back neatly. He also did not bow before Voldemort, instead stood next to the chair in front of the fire without even addressing himself, a feat that would have gotten any other Death Eater instantly punished.

"Well?"

"The pieces have been found, except for the hilt. I've had Leichtor put the fragments together and there are no other parts missing."

"Good. The hilt is with me, kept safe. You never said why you needed my Item."

"Premonitions, Lord," said the man, crossing his arms, "interesting dreams, and a feeling that part of oneself is missing, being somewhere else, is enough. Putting "It" back together will solve all of these mysteries."

"You are aware of the Item's power than, aren't you? It's strengths and weaknesses?"

"Of course."

"It's abilities…"

"Certaintly. The power of the Ancient Egyptians with Shadow Magic extends far to me, as I can somehow control parts of it. I believe that the Item is destined to me. It makes sense, in the end as well."

"How do you figure?" Voldemort gazed deeply into the flames.

"My stepson in the present, my son in the past. The past self would show a match in personality. Besides, it would help bring the weapons of the old war into this one. The Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry would not be able to stand up to it, not again with even more power."

"And you believe, by taking my Item, you could do all of this?"

"There are so many things the Item can do, you are not destined to do them, Lord."

"And why is that?"

"Well, if you were destined, you would have done these things already. And another, my family tree that Nesbitt researched for me shows I relate back to the times of the Priest Aknadin, of the Nameless Pharaoh's court."

Voldemort stiffened, "I see…" He waved his wand, and a long, thin box came zooming across the room toward him. Grasping it, Voldemort opened it, revealing its content, gleaming hilt of a broken sword.

"Magnificent, yes?" Voldemort looked upon the fragment, "destroyed by my defeat in a duel. How was I to know that my defeat would have triggered a chain reaction?"

"Actually," the man smirked, "it had said so on "RuleTheWorld" (if you remember from Tom Riddle's Item, it was the website that Voldemort visited to gain information on the Millennium Items). Said so, in plain text, to not let the sword fall into the hands of good."

"…How was I to know my own soul was almost ripped from my reborn body? Without using a last-minute Portkey, I would have died! Well, almost dead."

The man paid no attention to the last part of Voldemort's speech. He merely gazed upon the sword, "this can be mended, you are aware…"

"Yes," Voldemort snapped the box shut, and with the wave of his wand, it disappeared, "I'm not sure I can trust you, however. How do I know that you won't use this against me?"

"How do I know you won't steal the fragments from their location and piece the Item back together yourself?"

"You will have to trust me."

"I don't trust anyone, Lord. Not even you."

"If you were any other Death Eater, I would have killed you where you stand!" Voldemort glared upon the other figure.

"Yes, but you won't. You need me to win this war, Voldemort. Just like the last time. There would be more than triple the Aurors in the Ministry than there are now if I haven't provided you with the magic-proof weapons my corporation produced."

"Yes, there's the slight setback," Voldemort sneered, "Your corporation fell years ago, and the weapons were destroyed."

"Regaining control there will be...somewhat difficult, I don't deny it. However, it will not be impossible. You can have your weapons…"

"I knew –"

"But, you don't get a single tank unless I get that fragment!"

"When can you get those weapons available?"

"A few months, maybe more. But if I am going to supply for you, then you must hold your end as well. Agreed?"

Voldemort eyed the man carefully, "I suppose this can work. Supply my weapons, and I will give you my treasure."

"Good, good." The man was clearly pleased, "Where is the Malfoy boy?"

"I sent him to your associate, Johnson, is it? They might have already left. You never truly told me why you need the boy, you realize?"

"Oh, I never reveal my secrets until it is absolutely necessary."

Voldemort returned his gaze to the flames, the light dancing around the room, "It will help the boy complete his pitiful assignment, yes? That is why I gave him to you."

"Yes, it should. Now, what is the name of the girl he is after? I want Gansley to look her up."

"Hermione Granger. She's close to Potter."

"Potter – ah, yes, Harry Potter. Of course, we all know who he is."

Voldemort muttered something inaudible.

The man went on, "This girl is vital to Malfoy's mission, and my own goals as well. If you happen to…find her, try not to go curse-happy. It is essential she is…alive."

Voldemort cringed, "you accuse me of overusing spells on my victims?"

The man grinned, "Possibly."

"If you were –"

" 'Any other Death Eater, I'd be dead'. I know. Lord. However, I'm not any other Death Eater, and without me…well, I'll leave it at that. Good day to you." The man turned and headed toward the door.

"Ah, wait one moment. How did Dolores handle the Enhanced Blood Quill you had given her?"

"It worked fine. According to Dolores, the wounds don't heal. And they won't. Ever."

"I see."

"Well, I will report back when I have progress." The man left.

Voldemort turned his attention back to the fire, "Yes, good day to you too, Gozaboro Kaiba."


Well, that's all!

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