"That will be all Death. I don't need your services at the moment. I will summon you when I need you." Death nodded, sent Tom a creepy stare, and vanished by letting the shadows in the room swallow him. His eyes being the last thing to leave. The man chuckled and set off out of the room. Tom, with no hesitation, followed him not knowing what to do.

They walked along the seemingly endless hallways in silence as the man didn't seem to be in a chatty mood and Tom refused to be the one who broke the silence. Instead he worked on trying to remember all of the twists and turns that they passed, trying to make a map in his head of the layout of the house on the constant lookout for landmarks and what not. However, this venture was almost pointless. All of the hallways were completely identical. The house itself was decorated in dark wood with a landscape painting of some moors hanging over a table with two candle holders on either side of vase of flowers. In fact Tom was sure that if he measured down the hallways every painting, table, candle, and vase of flower would be immaculately placed to the last millimeter. As He realized this he started to pay more and more attention to his surroundings and made a realization. Looking back over all of the twists and turns that made up their journey he got pissed. The next time they passed the door that was also in the hallway he stopped and stepped through it. His suspicions were confirmed. It was the exact same room that they had left!

Tom stalked into the room and whirled around to find the man leaning against the doorway having the audacity to smirk at him! It was completely ridiculous to think about. Tom was used to having the upper hand of any situation that he came across and now here he was, the butt of a joke and being openly mocked by some guy who was supposedly his mate. Tom's appalled silence soon turned to quite furry that turned into an all-out rage. Giving into his desires for the first time in a long time Tom opened his mouth and let out all of his frustrations and confusions to this man that he'd just met.

"What in the name of Salazar do you think you're doing?" He started with a hiss entering his speech in his rage. "Do you know who I am? Obviously not for if you had known you surly would've shown a glimmer of respect or at least a remote sense of decorum at the very least. I don't care if you are this all powerful being that controls Death itself. This is abysmal behavior. I would have found that at the very least you would have the decency to act your assumed incredible age and could have told me your name before you led me on a wild snitch chase! And in the name of Merlin what is so damned funny?!" The last part was accompanied by a blast of his magic filled with waves of anger.

The man wasn't at the door frame smirking anymore. He was on the floor. Literally rolling on the floor with laughter. He stayed that way for many minutes before finally getting a hold of himself just as Tom was contemplating whether or not to pour cold water on him. The man got up and approached Tom. Tom had to catch himself before he started to back from the intimidating presence that seemed to drown the room as soon as he met those old alluring eyes that encased his very being in a sea of green. He felt very much like prey watching as his predator stalked him and he could do nothing to stop it. What scared him more than that though was the little part of him that didn't want to do anything about the attention that had been lavished upon him in that single second.

The man slid into his personal space and wrapped his arms around Tom's neck despite his rigged body. He leaned up until his lips were on Tom's ear and said, "I always forget how like a child you are before I release you from your prison. It is hilarious to watch as you struggle to assert dominance over one that is so far above you, like a rock that steadily fights against the currents thinking it's strong not realizing the power that it is going up against until it is a mere pebble that is forever at the mercy of patient water. Or, if is unlucky," here the man starts to let his power ooze out into the room, a physical presence that weighed on Tom's shoulders enough to force him to bend his knees to be able to stay standing, his weight to bear almost as heavy as Atlas'. He continues, "the bolder will realize the strength of the water early as the water crushes it between its waves over and over to be suppressed and crushed, to be humiliated as the 'mighty' falls at the hand of its underestimated enemy. Which is worse? Which is better? Which will you choose my strong and mighty rock? Will you try and wake the sleeping beast in me? Will you tempt a tempest of the highest order from me so that you may say that you have the higher power? Or would you rather that I allow you to continue to think you are in charge, maybe even allow others to think you're in charge and yet the both of know that it is quite the contrary? What say you oh Lord Voldemort slayer of many, whom was defeated by a babe? What say you mate whom I have an eternal claim on? What say you Ojos del Diablo?"

Not once during the whole speech did the smaller man raise his voice, not once did his magic (which Tom could tell was still leashed) attack or become offensive, and not once did he do anything overtly dominant yet Tom still felt himself give in to this man who because of his unfortunate height he had underestimated. Something deep within him, disturbingly close to the barrier that he'd found inside of him, told him to submit was bliss and to fight was pain beyond all possible forms of the imagination.

So he submitted.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, for the first time in his life, submitted to something without knowing all of the detail of the entanglement or even knowing if he'd get something out of it. He allowed his (bleh) Gryffindor side to surface and sagged into the man's arms whose name he didn't even know. It was the best feeling in the world.

As he leaned into the calming presence of the man that was holding him, he felt the his magic mingling with the others and felt how the suppression that he'd been feeling left without even the memory of pressure. The magic became accepting and reassuring. As he was about to fall into the bliss that was this moment, Tom heard the man speak again.

"You will know me as Harry Potter this time Ojo del Diablo. Rest now I will awaken you fully later, you will need all of the rest you can get." Tom made sure that he remembered the name before he stepped to the edge of oblivion. Before he stepped willingly off, though, there was a whispered, "I hope you survive this time." He was about to wake up to ask what he meant when he felt foreign yet familiar magic that came to him and pushed him, gently, into sleep.