Author's Note: Second chapter today and I already have reviews! You guys are great, keep them coming and I'll keep writing! Your reviews are inspiration, a dedicated medication for writer's block.

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Chapter Two...As I Walk Through The Valley of the Shadow of Death

The water was heavy, an ever present burden like a thick blanket around his senses. It was still but through that stillness was a hum, not quite a tangible thing, the sleeping consciousness of every dormant Inferi. It was the pulsing power that animated them that ran through him like a swarm of drowsy bees in his guts and his connection to each and every one. The blackness was complete this far down in the bay yet even through his sightlessness, he could tell where each of the dead rested. They lit up his mind's eye like soft blue fairy lights in the depths. There were steel bands around his chest as he stirred and only after a moment did he realize that he was nestled almost possessively in his Maker's frozen arms. Even as those whitened, dead eyes opened to stare, unseeing, Harry knew that the one who had given him this unlife would never be more than a regular Inferi again. He had given that awareness, that power, to his childe when he had turned him. Harry knew this because his Maker knew this, just as he knew that his Maker was once a human as he had been, a Black. His creator's memories and knowledge swirled within his mind, as it had been for the Inferi Lord before him, and the one before that. The mantle of Lord was passed down along with the Lord before them's knowledge. Harry knew, because of these memories, that in all of that inky blackness, if he were to Call the Inferi, they would respond. He could command them, as was his right as their master now.

The Inferi began to stir and Harry extended his awareness out, allowing it to brush up against each of the dead and decayed, acknowledging them. All remained still in the darkness, unchanged. So what had woken them from their eternal slumber? He remained still for a moment, his toes brushing the lake bottom as he floated curiously in place. There. Yes. It was as if a cord were attached to his subconscious, and something were tugging at the other end insistently, bidding him to come to the surface. The feeling, he recalled, was very similar to the pull he had felt from the Horcrux as he first stepped foot on the platform above. Dumbledore had watched him then. The memory of the old man and his betrayal burned his soul with hatred. He would not be led like a dog on a leash. He was a Lord in his own right now and he would be a puppet no longer. His rage made his kin moan in the deep, a sound that echoed throughout the cavern and the salt water mournfully. Harry took a hold of that strange magic, gripping it tightly with a calculating eye, before shoving it furiously back up the link. Whoever was Calling would have to wait. He would answer but on his own terms.

He slipped from his creator's grasp, floating steadily to the surface. The Inferi were moving to the glassy surface as well, many of them brushing up against him as they rose like lazing, contented felines. Now that he was among their kind, Harry found himself fascinated by the very fact that he had thought at all. What exactly made an Inferi? As he rose ever nearer the surface, he could hear the Call as if it were being whispered directly into his mind.

'I summon you, Lord of the Inferi, Keeper of the Silent Ones. Come to your purpose. Come to your Master.'

Master? He was a Lord, no man commanded him! His hand broke the surface before the rest of him, gripping the edge of the platform with a strength that his human body would never possess. They would see who was Master of who.

o~Voldemort~o

Voldemort stood on the platform in the center of the bay, furious and as enraged as he had ever been. His Horcrux was gone. Missing! His rage spilled over and he released a shriek of fury that crashed around the cavern like a dragon in a tea shop. He tore at his hair, unable to contain it all. There was no doubt that Dumbledore was behind this. None at all. How he had managed to get past the thousand Inferi was a question that needed answering now. The Inferi Lord would give him those answers or he would burn the useless lump of flesh where he stood as well as every one of his creations. The Dark Lord did his best to quell the ire within him and even though his hands still shook with the pent up emotion, he extended his pale hand over the water, Calling the Inferi Lord to his will. The thread of power leaked down into the depths, straining between the corpse below and himself. The bond felt altered somehow. Different and unstable, as if the Inferi Lord weren't completely tied to him. This wasn't possible though. He bonded each new Lord to himself personally with blood and a pound of flesh, sometimes literally. The bond at last seemed to connect but instead of the Inferi Lord simply answering the Call complacently as he should, there was an answering tug. Something had gripped hold of that thread of death magic.

Whatever it was merely held onto the strand for a time as if looking it over, analyzing it, before Voldemort experienced something that he hadn't felt since the loss of his body fifteen years ago. His own magic, shoved back up the line at him! The shock of his own power being forced back at him rocked his physical body, nearly sending him toppling backwards into the inky blackness. This was impossible! Inferi had no will of their own, they were only reanimated corpse. They shouldn't be able to fight back, let alone a direct Calling! Something was going on and it wasn't something he had anticipated. Perhaps it wasn't a simple Inferi. Perhaps something else had taken root in his cave. Someone had been here, invaded his space. It would be foolish to rule anything out until he knew what had occurred. Nonetheless, the Inferi Lord would give him his answers soon enough.

Several yards out, a sickly pale, bloated head peered out over the water, it's lower jaw missing like it had been given mouth to mouth by something with wicked teeth. It's eyes were so swollen with water and rot that they had swelled closed and it's scalp had sloughed off long ago. Just feet from the stone, another head poked emerged, this time in a somewhat better state though far from recognizable as something that had once been human or even alive. Everywhere, Inferi were rising with their Lord as if they wished to see the interaction for themselves. Could the dead feel curiosity? Suddenly, a small, pale hand gripped the side of the platform, blue nails scraping the edge of the stone, tearing themselves to shreds. Voldemort eyed a fingernail that had come off with disgust. It was then that he noticed a small stick that had washed up at the edge of the water. It was soaked and stained black with dead water but nonetheless familiar to him. It was a wand. A sickeningly familiar holly wand, to be exact. He reached down to pick up the brother to his own, nearly missing a short figure pull itself from the water completely. Harry Potter's darkened emerald eyes stared out at him from beneath sopping black hair and his skin a pale only bloodless death could provide, fragments of glass standing out starkly on his face. Around his neck, Slytherin's locket pulsed.

It seemed a new Inferi Lord had been chosen. Even in death he couldn't seem to get rid of this brat. Voldemort's surprise was robbed from him by the sheer joy he felt at seeing his soul fragment safe after all. Safe. Not destroyed. Not dead. His voice came out sounding more pleased than indifferent, as he had attempted.

"Potter. Why am I not surprised."

Harry looked down at himself as if seeing himself for the first time. A sardonic grin was the only answer he received. Voldemort watched with no small sneer as the teenager leaned over and forcefully expelled all of the water from his lungs. It splashed onto the rock wetly, bringing flecks of blood and mucus with it. The Dark Lord stepped back in order to avoid the unpleasant soup landing on his robes.

"I seem to be dead, Tom. I imagine that your soul piece has something or another to do with my conscious reanimation though it's only a theory. My death, though...now that is another matter entirely. Our dear Headmaster seems to have all of the answers, though. Perhaps I'll ask him myself."

There was a chilling hatred in Potter's voice that mirrored the red hot heat of Voldemort's own, a hatred that promised violence to those unlucky enough to face it's wrath. Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed, his eyes flicking down once toward the locket. It was possible, he supposed, that wearing the locket could have helped in Potter's transformation but…it was incredibly unlikely. No. Something else was amiss here.

"And what sort of things does the old fool think he knows, Potter? What was he doing here? What is he planning?" His demand was met with a cold laugh and the shake of a head.

"Oh no, Lord Voldemort. I am not merely a pawn for you to order as you please. I am the Inferi Lord too and I require the flesh and blood needed to seal the alliance between us. Only after will I discuss anything business related with you."

o~Harry~o

His demand was clearly not what the Dark Lord wanted to hear, so it was with a tense, angry stance that Voldemort shrugged off his robes and bared his forearm. It was pale and unmarred except for a cigarette burn near the bend of it. Harry had similar scars. Many of them in fact. How similar they were to one another. He touched the small flaw with one cold hand. The new Inferi Lord took the time while the man prepared himself to analyze Voldemort at his leisure. Now that he was awakened and in full control of his mental faculties, he could see the difference in the man before him. Gone was the snake-like visage of the resurrection. The Dark Lord looked now as one would imagine Lucifer or some incubi slipping through the night. His long black hair fell like a curtain over his shoulder, spilling to his lower back. His skin remained pale but he had the look that Harry imagine Tom Riddle would have possessed as an adult. All high cheekbones and sharp, aristocratic features. Tom's wand drew a line across his arm in one smooth stroke and Harry was suddenly distracted as the smell of blood filled his senses. It wasn't deep but it was sufficient enough for the nearest Inferi to moan with desire. It would suit his purpose just fine.

Silently, beneath a watchful crimson gaze, he took in the scent like an addict with a fix. Would Voldemort be disgusted by it? Nothing like a person flinching from you sucking the blood off of their arm to knock down your self confidence. Harry snorted at his own thought process. Sometimes, it was hard to hold his thoughts together into one cohesive unit with his mind joined with so many others. They were a hive mind now. It wasn't hard to lose yourself in the swell. He lowered his mouth to the wound and ran his tongue teasingly, exploratorily over the slice. Flavor burst to life in his mouth so intensely that it made his jaw ache. It was like liquid energy on his tongue. Power. His mouth latched onto the opening, the sensations coursing through him both thrilling and joyful. It was the first thing other than hate he had felt since his death. He even found himself somewhat...aroused, a feeling he was unfamiliar with. Harry only barely registered that someone was making desperate moans of pleasure before he realized that the sounds were coming from him. The blood flow began to slow and even when he nibbled the edges of it to encourage more, eventually the wound clotted and would give no more.

Harry jerked back with an unneeded gasp of delight. If only he could have his fill of that magical liquid life! He found himself envious of the skin that held that sweetness back. Emerald eyes hadn't left the Dark Lord when he noted the man about to carve his arm like a Thanksgiving turkey. An entirely devious idea wormed it's way into his mind and he found himself staying Voldemort's hand.

"If you wouldn't mind, I would have you save that portion for later. There are desires for the flesh that have nothing to do with feeding and everything to do with experience." At the man's deep frown, Harry found himself amending his request, certain that Voldemort would rather not have to cut a chunk of his skin off if he could help it, "It need not be you, but I don't intend to spend my unnaturally long afterlife wanting."

The Dark Lord nodded and gave a heavy glance at him in return, looking him over as if he were something interesting to be observed before being purchased. It was a heavy silence that passed before Harry apparently met inspection standards.

"I will do the deed myself. I won't have you trying to weasel your way out of our contract later under any circumstances. Let's get back to the base beforehand though. I don't imagine that the stone would be all that comfortable." The Dark Lord said calmly but noted without relish the fact that another being was skimming across the water.

Harry watched the Shade approach them, flowing like an inky sheet across the still water. The transformed soul of one of his hive, no doubt, changed in spirit as surely as his body was changed when he left it behind. The smoky thing condensed to a tendril and wound itself around Harry's outstretched arm he offered it. Voldemort gave it a look heaving with disdain before bidding him follow on his way out of the cave. As they left, the Boy Who Lived to Die began to give his new ally the information on Dumbledore that he so desired.

A/N: Wooowwww, much longer than the original.