*Cringes* I'm sorry about the last chapter, guys! Really. I didn't want to have to do that to Harry but…it was necessary. Well, not really, but the story would have been unrealistic otherwise. Not that a Wizarding story is realistic, but you get my drift.

Corpium - I think I know what you mean. I often get kinda confused with using comma's after speech, so I apologize if it's making reading the chapters a little annoying. :P Our English teacher rarely teaches anything, so I'm kinda figuring out some new stuff as I go along. Thanks for pointing it out, though. I'll try and fix it :D

TheSecretUchiha - You'll have to read this chapter :P

Please read and review =)

None of this is mine.


(Voldemort's POV, because I wanna give it a shot :D)

I felt something strange from Potter's side of the connection. A sort of madness I thought only my Death Eaters possessed. I frowned when it escalated into unbelievable pain. I was glad I couldn't feel it physically. But mentally…

I hadn't heard from Harry these past few days. Any time I tapped into his connection to see where he was, all I could see was black. Was he ill? Sleeping? I have no idea.

The connection went numb. I set down my quill, and traced the patterns of the wood on my desk with the tip of my finger. He was either unconscious, of in shock. The boy would be of no use to me if he was attacked.

I sighed, and stood up. The wards shouldn't be too hard to break down. The Muggles would be no challenge to kill. By the time the Aurors arrived, we would be long gone anyway.

It was about time I took him out of there. After a lot of consideration, I decided that, no matter how absurd the idea was, the Boy-Who-Lived was being abused. By Muggles, of all people. The boy would be perfect for the Dark side. A hatred for Muggles, experience of pain, and he certainly had the attitude to hold down an argument.

Not to mention his magical aura! I dare say it could become as powerful as my own, when it matured. Right now, it was more powerful than some of my Death Eaters. And he was only six.

I grabbed my travelling cloak, and threw it on. Fastening the clasp, I checked my wand was in my pocket and apparated.

When I arrived, I was greeted with the metallic smell of blood. I was in a kitchen, I think. It was hard to tell with so much crimson. If I didn't know any better, I would think the house had been subject to a raid. But, of course, there was no way that could happen.

I glanced around the blood-soaked floor. A rather large man was sobbing over a corpse. Pushed hastily to the side was…no way.

I fired a quick Avada Kedavra at the man, and he dropped dead. I saw that it was a woman he was mourning. Probably his wife or sister, by the age of her. How she died, though, I could only guess. I walked over to Harry, and crouched beside him.

He was covered in blood, with so many stab wounds I couldn't even begin to count. I checked his pulse. Very faint. He was still alive, but just barely. He was lucky he didn't get stabbed in any of his main veins, but one of the slashes was much too close to his heart for my likings.

I picked the boy up, supporting his head with my hand. He was unbelievably light. Malnourished, I guessed. I was just about to apparate, when I heard a choked sob.

A fat little boy, standing at the doorway. His eyes were wide, and he vomited at the sight of all the blood. And, presumably, his dead parents. I sneered at the weak thing, briefly considering killing him. No. It wouldn't be worth it. Potter needed medical attention now, or he'd definitely die.

With a crack, I apparated back to Riddle Manor.


You didn't think I'd kill him off, did you? :O

Short chapter, I know. The next chapter will be from everyone's favourite potions master's point of view.

Yeah, yeah, you all probably want Harry back. But he's still…almost dead.

This wasn't difficult to write, actually. But I know I didn't get Voldie's personality right. Still. My fan fiction, my rules :P