Ner words: 3,395

"Talking"

'Thinking'

{Talking on the fireplace}

–Parseltongue–

Thinking in 3rd person POV/Dream/Memory/Flashback/Others

Letter/Journal/Book/Newspaper

Time change/Date of time

Change of POV

Chapter II

–Paradox–

Friday, 1 September 1975

LV's POV

"That's great." Professor Slughorn turned towards Corban. "I have paperwork that needs signing."

Corban released his ward's shoulder and approached the Professor and the table. Mid-glare contest between himself and Professor Dumbledore, Voldemort took hold of the lad's shoulder whose freak out was hidden behind a puzzled innocent facade. His own Heir and Equal indeed.

"Damon, you have named Corban your Guardian instead of Father, why is that?" Professor Dumbledore asked without looking away from Voldemort once.

"Because he's my magical version of a Godfather, Professor. My Father has been dead for a decade and half. As well as my Mother."

"Magical version... do you have a Muggle version?"

"I was baptized, Sir." Young Peverell glanced back at Corban and then up towards Voldemort. "I've no idea how to explain why a Werewolf is acceptable to Muggles but not to Wizards, Professor." The lad stated as he asked, obviously, for the Dark Lord's explanation. As a student would ask his tutor.

"Baptism is the ritual where religious Muggles give their children their name with the deity's approval. To a baptism Muggles won't check if the person is a Werewolf or hunt by law. All they need is to supposedly be religious to which nothing but an enchanted parchment as proof would be enough for the Priest." Voldemort explained, slipping into lecture mode. "It would make sense that even though Mr Peverell followed his wife's upbringing he also decided to follow his own upbringing since, in the Wizardry World, it is forbidden for a Werewolf to take a child in that he/she has not birth him/herself."

"And still instead of being sent to me he was sent to his Mother's relatives. Which from his reaction at the very idea of meeting his Uncle in the Wizardry World is enough to make him have a panic attack, tell us just how Parent Material those two were. It is a good thing that they were killed by the Muggle War by accident." Corban intercepted which provoked for the lad's fake show of control to start to slip.

–BiT–

HP's POV

Harry felt Voldemort's hand tighten on his shoulder and then the man leaned down to whisper to him.

–Control your breaths. You are losing your control on your magic again.–

Harry obeyed to the best of his abilities.

–I'm trying. Yet…–

Voldemort finally looked away from Dumbledore and stared directly into Harry's eyes. Harry felt himself relax against his own control and, when he felt the Dark Lord look away, his body shivered at being under his own control again.

"Corban, your ward needs a hot cocoa and a good night sleep." Voldemort stated before he looked at Harry again. –Corban calls you Jerry. Is that the name you prefer?–

–My biological name was changed. Jerry was the closest sound to my name.– Harry agreed and let his anger slip into his voice. Because this was all the man in front of him own fault. –Harry.–

Voldemort hummed and straightened himself as the waitress entered with Harry's hot drink.

"Damon." Dumbledore called and Harry looked at him, unwilling to answer to the name – he could feel Voldemort's amusement at it. "You need to be sorted before you go to the school and to your new dormitory."

Harry nodded and set the mug down on the table before approaching the Headmaster who was with the sorting hat.

–For your own safety stay out of Dumbledore's claws.–

Harry froze. Why was Voldemort speaking about it so openly where Dumbledore could hear him?

"Now now, Tom. There is no need to hiss in uncertainty. Damon looks to me to be a perfect Slytherin."

Hiss… bloody hell! Harry had outed himself as a Parselmouth! Not to mention the knowledge of Voldemort's real person!

Dumbledore set the hat on Harry's head.

'Quite the dilemma we have here, don't we, Mr Potter?'

It was either fight Voldemort and join the Gryffindors and barely expect to pass the year thanks to the Dark's wrath. Or fight Dumbledore and stay under Voldemort's manipulative control.

Harry glanced at Mr Yaxley.

'Incognito is long gone.' The Sorting Hat agreed. Harry didn't need to reply to the previous question: the Hat knew. "Slytherin!"

The accomplished smirk in Voldemort almost made Harry shiver.

"Drink your drink, Jerry." And the way the older said it almost sounded like his real name instead. "It will get cold."

Harry sat down by the table and picked his mug.

–BiT–

LV's POV

Voldemort smirked as the Professors finally left with his Heir. The lad was a paradox.

"My Lord?"

"Jeremy, warn your son. Young Peverell is my Heir even if unclaimed." Jeremy nodded and picked his two-way mirror. Glancing at it, Voldemort turned towards Corban. "We should acquire a mirror for Harry himself as well."

"I will work on it, Sir." He agreed.

"Make certain that the Goblins will back you up on the god/majparent claims."

Corban agreed and with a bow of head he left.

"My son said your Heir has just entered into Slytherin's dormitories. He was put in the top rank bedrooms."

"Good."

"My Lord, is it not dangerous to have your own Heir so close to Professor Dumbledore's manipulation?"

"It may be." Voldemort agreed. "Still, Dumbledore is not an active Professor any longer. Although, if he dares to call Harry out of school reasons to his office; I will love to see his face as he loses his own job."

Jeremy smiled back.

–BiT–

Saturday, 2 September 1975

HP's POV

Harry sat down at breakfast besides Rabastan. His eyes were on the other side of the Great Hall where the Marauders were sitting, while talking and laughing between themselves.

"Trouble makers." Rabastan spoke, bringing Harry's attention back. "Your school year, so be careful around them. They live to pick on our house."

Harry nodded thankfully. It was his family even so.

"Timetables." A voice claimed from over them.

Before Harry could even look up, his knee was grabbed under the table as a reassurance. It was hard not to blush. Slughorn looked through his heap of parchment and gave one to Harry and another to Rabastan with a smile.

"Thank you, Sir."

Slughorn nodded and walked down the table. Harry opened his timetable. Every week day after 5 pm until 7 pm he'd have the culture classes with Mr Yaxley. On the weekends he'd have classes at Hogsmeade with Voldemort.

"Tempus." Harry stood after looking the time, while his housemates looked back confused at seeing his spell for some reason. "I need to go change. I've class in less than a hour to which I have a wardrobe requirement and not to mention the walk towards Hogsmeade."

Rabastan got out of whatever sputter before he nodded and signalled towards two classmates, who stood and left with Harry. They arrived the Common Room and only then did the others speak.

"Is it true that you are the Heir of Slytherin? Of the Dark Lord?"

Harry glanced back from the clothes' list Voldemort had set up for him, that he'd probably written on a parchment last night and given Slughorn.

"Yes." He agreed, because why else had Voldemort been so insistent on having Harry in Slytherin? "For some reason I'm also a Parselmouth."

The two nodded and Harry entered his bedroom, he put on his old Muggle clothes that were manageable enough. Finally he put on the school black robe and went out. The two accompanied him all the way to the school gates where Harry gave the slip that also had been included in his timetable. Mr Filch read it and with a sneer allowed Harry passageway. Voldemort was waiting for him and guided him down the road.

–Have you slept well?–

–The usual.– Harry shrugged and Voldemort raised an eyebrow. –I'm used to nightmares.–

–How usual?–

–Every night.–

Voldemort hummed and opened the door to a house, letting Harry in.

–We'll look up on that.– The Dark Wizard agreed before following Harry inside. –This will be our classroom from now on.–

Harry glanced around the living room. It looked homey.

"What will you teach me exactly?"

"First: how to tell the difference between English and Parseltongue." Harry went deep red. "Second: how to fully get in touch with your full magic. And third: how to use it."

"For your war? No, thank you."

Voldemort smirked amused, going to sit on an armchair.

"I'm not telling you to be my pawn."

"Telling? No. That's what you're manipulating me to become."

"Stop me." Harry frowned. "You're a Magical Sentient. That means you feel magic itself as if it was an entity by itself.

"Most of us only have five senses, you have a sixth sense. You see you hear you smell you taste magic. You can tell when it happens, when it doesn't and how it happens. With training you can feel a Magical Core from another person, which in a way means that you can 'listen' to what they are thinking. People like me and Dumbledore have learnt to use Magic Words and a simple touch on the shoulder to manipulate people without their notice. Yet, you can tell when I do it even if you can't fight it."

"That's false. I can fight the Imperius."

Voldemort looked back with narrowed eyes and Harry tensed, facing himself for the Cruciatus Curse.

"Besides for blood quills, Basilisk's poison and Imperius. Just how much more illegal stuff was used on you?"

Harry shrugged tense.

"Why are you pretending to care anyway? I am just an adopted child of a Ministry Member… which is your Death Eater?" Harry ended in a questioning tone as he wasn't certain.

"Corban adopted you because my name appears on your blood test results. You are my Heir, since the Basilisk's poison makes you a Parselmouth." Harry hummed. "And Corban is one of my first Death Eaters. They call themselves the Knights of Walpurgis. The Elite."

Voldemort signalled the couch before him and Harry sat down uncertain.

"I got the Parseltongue when my parents died. It wasn't Professor Sn…" He shrugged, interrupting himself.

"The one who killed your parents?" Harry nodded, still tense. "I'm not mad at you nor am I going to curse you."

The teenager froze and looked at the red eyes staring right back.

"That's what everyone says at first."

The adult huffed amused.

"You are too old, you know that?"

"Funny. All my lifetime I was never allowed to be a child and now that I'm 15-year-old everyone is trying to impinge on me to be a child."

The man before him leaned forward interested.

"Then tell me, Harry. Who Are You?"

Harry frowned only to turn towards the Dark Lord with a raised eyebrow.

"Alice in Wonderland's line? Really?" Voldemort limited to smirk. "I'm Harry. Just Harry."

"In the book this would've be the time where I'd ask you if you really are Harry." Harry glared back at the amusement. "If I remember exactly by the end of the book you accept to be more than Just Harry."

Voldemort stood and Harry huffed, crossing his arms. When the older returned from wherever he'd gone to, he'd brought a tray with a plate of cookies and a mug of tea. He set them on the tea-table between the couch and the armchair and sat again.

"Seriously?"

Voldemort smiled back as Harry glared at the cookies that Voldemort had spelled to have the words Eat Me on top. Not to mention the Drink Me on the mug. With a sigh Harry grabbed a cookie and nipped on it.

"I could've poisoned it." Voldemort pinpointed.

"I was poisoned by Basilisk. There's worst ways to die."

Voldemort hummed.

"I will inform Corban to test you for poisoning side-effects." Harry nodded and set down the half-eaten cookie. "What is it?"

"Who baked these?"

"Bought them at the bakery next door before you came."

Harry hummed.

"I guess I'm just used to Muggle cookies then."

Voldemort leaned forward and picked one cookie and tried it out.

"Magic baking." Voldemort frowned as he looked at Harry then he stood. "Follow me."

Harry followed the man to the kitchen who magically pulled all the ingredients to the kitchen counter. Harry didn't need further encouragement and quickly set up the dough as he turned on the oven and when it was hot he set the cookies inside.

"Do you have a timer?"

"Don't you have a watch?"

"It fell into the lake."

"How do you tell the time?"

"Can I perform magic?"

"As long as it's inside this house and isn't the Three Unforgivables."

Harry nodded and picked his wand.

"Tempus."

Voldemort frowned as he watched the spell take effect for some reason. Then he summoned a clock from another room and set it on the counter.

"How old were you?"

"5." Harry shrugged, popping unto the table. "My aunt and uncle had a son who was the triple of me. Most of my clothes were donated from him. Some of my 11-child-self's clothes that were too big back then are now finally starting to look like they fit."

"You cooked and baked for them?"

"Gardened. Ironed. Mopped the floor. Cleaned the rooms. Did the beds. The laundry…"

Harry popped out the counter to check on the cookies.

"Would they still be alive they'd wish they weren't." Voldemort promised.

Harry tensed. Now he understood why Voldemort wanted the address so much.

"I need to learn to think before I speak. This is common knowledge to me so I assume it to be the usual way."

"And I need to learn it to teach you otherwise." Voldemort agreed.

Harry took out the first batch of cookies and put on a new one. Then passed the cookies to a plate. Slowly, while blowing on it to cold it down, Voldemort picked one and tried it out. Harry glanced back as he looked up from the clock.

"Did I forget the right measurements? It's been almost a year…"

"It's good. Not great as that would mean a lot more work than this simple kitchen can offer. Still, it's good." Harry smiled only to tense at who he was smiling at… "And no, I'm not using Magic Words."

–BiT–

LV's POV

Voldemort kept nipping on the hot cookie as the lad before him obviously had trouble between his eagerness at being congratulated and the fact that the one doing it was Voldemort himself.

"Was it a Dark Wizard who killed your parents?" A nod was all he got. Voldemort hummed, it would be a hard job to deal with. "Usually I would say that you were too young to remember. That is not the case, is it? Your own magic remembers them, does it not?"

"I can hear my parents death if I approach a Dementor. Actually, Dementors love me. Which is why my wolffather taught me how to perform a Patronus when I was 13-year-old."

Voldemort hummed.

"How good is it?"

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry stated without thinking twice and a stag left his wand, only to gallop around Harry like a puppy. Harry smiled sadly, before he took the cookies and closed the oven. "Done."

The lad looked up as he set the tray on the sink to find Voldemort staring at the Corporeal Patronus.

"You could perform this at 13?"

"Actually my first Corporeal Patronus was two months before my fourteenth birthday. I was attacked by the Dementors. Coming September was the new tutor so you can guess why I was fighting Dementors."

Voldemort hissed under his breath angrily at the Aurors.

"Coming September… you spent two years with the manipulative tutor?" Harry nodded as he picked the plate of cookies to move back to the living room. "Why a stag?"

"Father. He is an illegal Animagus." The lad frowned. "Was."

Voldemort did not comment on the wording. Many orphans back at the orphanage did it all the time without even realising. It was an instinct to be able to withhold the orphanage, to pretend family is alive and will come to pick them up from the orphanage eventually.

"So let's talk about your ability to kill 'Jabberwock' or do we speak about the 'Red Queen' instead?"

The lad huffed.

"You do realise I wasn't allowed to read at the relatives and at the school, even if I did hide in the library from the bullies, I didn't swallow every single book. I don't have the emotionality for it. I get bored."

Voldemort nodded amused.

"And you can still guess what I am talking about."

"I may not have a mind palace like a certain highly functioning sociopath, but I still remember some things."

Voldemort could not help it and laughed.

"Maybe you should get a police box. It would give you all the time in the world to read and organize a mind palace."

"I may have a wand but it isn't sonic." The child teased back.

Voldemort smiled. So the child knew his Classics.

"Beware of the potions. We do not want an evil you walking around."

"Don't worry, for that we have you."

Voldemort found himself laughing again. It was a strange feeling, principally considering how controlled he was. He glanced at Harry and knew that it would be the right approach with the youngest. He could not treat him like a Death Eater, most of them were Purebloods raised in a do-not-show-your-emotions upbringing. Still, Harry was still a British and was here showing all his emotions on his face as if he did not care that it could be used against him instead.

"Did you know that there is a Muggle cartoon called Tom and Jerry with a cat and a mouse?"

Voldemort tried to remember the few cartoons he did watch on the shops' TVs.

"One with a cat chasing a mouse and the mouse doing pranks back?" A nod. "I was already at Hogwarts at the time it came out. But I did hear the other orphans comment about it."

Harry hummed.

"There is a dog as well. Jerry sometimes hides behind the massive bulldog for safety. I remember this one scene where Jerry hit the sleeping Spike who woke up to find Tom."

Voldemort hummed, leaning forward and looking at the child in the eyes.

"Are you threatening me of using Dumbledore against me?"

"Am I?" Was the reply, before Harry started sipping from his tea.

Oh yes. Harry was the perfect paradox. Emotions on his sleeves like a Gryffindor? Yes. Yet it hid his real self. The calculating one that watched Voldemort's every move and took in the information for better process later.

He was a child with the mind of an adult and with the mask of a child to fool everyone who wouldn't look at him twice. Still, Voldemort was watching. He was looking. He was waiting for the real Harry to show himself. Until now all he'd been allowed to meet was Jerry unless when Harry had been baking. He'd been forced to don't think and by so his answer hadn't been thought twice about it. Harry said that it was an usual occurrence, yet he had to know that it wasn't. Abused children usually learnt to hide the abuse. To pretend it wasn't happening. They quickly learn to lie to the authorities that no, they didn't live in precarious situations. That they weren't mistreated and neglected.

Voldemort would have to use the Muggle tricks to make his way into Harry's real self. It would've be an interesting and amusing job. To win Harry's trust without magical persuasion. While teaching him to control his full magic. To fully understand his abilities. To accept that he was anything but Just.

(TBC)

Next chapter: Idiomlogy

~Isys