Okay, so I haven't read fanfics for a while, and I realized first now that I've totally forgotten about disclaimers... =S
Well, since you all know I don't own Harry Potter, it shouldn't be a problem, right? ^.~

Oh, and I know I'm a bit late again =,=' It's for the same reason, too - I was at a convention and then I've been totally dead, so I haven't written any... =S

Anyway, here it is! x)

Life went by in the white mansion that radiated security and peace, yet held the greatest evil of the time inside its walls of stone. Every day followed a simple schedule for Harry; awake in the morning to Minxy's breakfast before Voldemort came to put the glamour on him. Shortly after, Snape came with the Blood Replacement potion for him, and then they went to the potions lab where they brew the two potions Harry needed until it was time of lunch.

When lunch had passed, he met with Voldemort who trained him in Dark Arts for about two hours. Between dinner and Dark Arts, Harry had free time when he often wandered the grounds around the mansion, simply enjoying a languid walk over the grass expanse, or sat by the fountain watching the rippling water.

He was always back in his room when Minxy came with his dinner, and then Snape came again, this time with both potions. After taking the Dreamless Sleep potion for the first time, he always saw to it so that he was in bed and was comfortable before he took it.

The brewing with Snape wasn't as bad after the first time, and he soon managed to complete the Dreamless Sleep potion "somewhat satisfactory", as Snape put it. From then on Harry made the potion himself, under Snape's supervision, and they went over to the brewing of the Blood Replacement potion. Just as Snape had said, it was harder, but after having worked so intensively with brewing, he could actually grasp the reasons to why he failed, and therefore learned from his mistakes.

With Voldemort he learned new Dark spells and hexes, not all of them meant for killing or destroying. They were also training nonverbal spells, since Voldemort saw it as a great weakness not to be able to use magic if he for some reason couldn't talk, and Harry found it was a challenge he enjoyed.

He knew his life was far from normal as he was Harry Potter, the supposed saviour and defeater of the Dark Lord, and he was living with said Dark Lord, even learning from him. Even so, his life felt somewhat normal, and he found he liked it. Yet, he slowly realized that he liked the thought of going back to Hogwarts. He missed the school life, the homework that one always cursed, the dorm where you learned to throw silencing charms because someone was snoring loudly, the classes you hated and sometimes slept through, the Great Hall where you glared across the tables at your enemy.

It would be good to come back.

A few days after they had sent the letter to Dumbledore, one of the school's owls arrived with one of the normal new-term letter along with a short note separately welcoming him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and also informing him that he would be sorted along with the first year students.

XXX

As soon as the bricks had moved to the side, the busy life of Diagon Alley was revealed. The cobblestones of the winding street were barely visible under the many feet of wizards and witches who hurried back and forth, in and out of the crowded shops. There was chattering, laughing, screaming, crying and the hooting of an owl filling the warm air of the late summer afternoon.

Two unknown wizards made their way into the mess, trying to keep together as they were pushed and bumped back and forth by the many moving bodies. The longer one had dark brown hair and matching eyes, the gaze swiping over the surrounding crowd, now and then flickering back to the shorter figure trailing behind him to see that he hadn't lost his younger companion. To his surprise, the teen was clutching the back of his black robe, keeping close so that he wouldn't get lost. Dull, blue eyes shone weakly as they took in the sight of the many shoppers and the articles on display outside the shops or in the windows. The blonde, shoulder-length hair was tied up with a thin silk ribbon to keep it from falling into his face, the pale blue of the ribbon matching the dull eyes.

"Uncle Tom!" the blonde shouted, nodding towards Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour as none of his hands were free, one of them holding the robe of Uncle Tom, the other holding his new cauldron filled with books, potion supplies and all the other things they needed for the school start. The only thing left to fix was the school uniform, but Harry felt he needed to get out of the crowd for a moment.

They practically ploughed their way through the mass of people and broke into the ice cream parlour with its cheerful and bright colouring, the place filled with children begging their parents for some ice cream and clusters of teens sitting together, gossiping and laughing, talking about the coming school year. Lavendel Brown sat at one of the round tables together with the Patil twins and some other girl Harry knew he had seen before but didn't know the name of.

Harry stopped to look at them for a while, caught in memories until he realized they had noticed him. Lavender smiled and flicker her hair over her shoulder, fluttering with her eyelashes. Feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment, he turned away and found Voldemort standing in line to buy ice cream. Smiling at the though of the Dark Lord buying ice cream, Harry walked over to him and joined his "uncle" in the queue.

"Which flavour are you gonna take?" Harry asked when he saw that Voldemort was focussing his full attention on the menu displaying all kinds of ice creams, sorbets, toppings, sprinkles and cornets. The now brown eyes, emptied of the blood that usually lingered there, were concentrated as is he was making a decision more important then life itself.

"I have yet to decide," he mumbled as answer, and Harry shrugged, deciding he wanted melon and chocolate.

"It has been a long time since I last ate ice cream," Voldemort admitted, and Harry nodded in understanding. He couldn't even picture the looks the death eaters would wear if their Dark Lord asked for ice cream. The following admittance did shock him, though. "I have forgotten what it tastes like."

Harry stared at him in shock, the dull blue eyes wider then ever before. "You don't know what you like? Seriously?"

The Dark Lord shook his head, and Harry just stared at him in disbelief for a moment before sighting. "Okay then, so… do you like sweet things or something more sourish?" Receiving a blank look as answer, Harry sighted again. When it was their turn to order, he decided on strawberry, lemon and vanilla for Voldemort, so that the man could taste sweet, sour and neutral. Hopefully, the man would like at least one of them.

They found an empty table and sat down, Harry purposely sitting with his back against the table of girls so that he wouldn't have to see their attempted flirting. Ignoring their chattering and the high-pitched giggles they produced, he turned his attention to his ice cream and to Voldemort who was currently trying the strawberry flavour. Harry ate his ice cream as he watched the Dark Lord's careful evaluation of the different tastes. When he had savoured all of them, he put the spoon down and looked up into the amusedly curious blue eyes that watched him.

"The pink one goes fine with the white, but I find the yellow one to be too sour for my liking," he said seriously, and Harry burst out laughing. Really, who would have thought the Dark Lord would have a sweet tooth?

They continued eating in silence, Voldemort still deeply concentrated on the ice cream while Harry watched him. After a while it started becoming boring and the blue eyes wandered, more dull now that he was bored. He found an abandoned copy of the Daily Prophet laying on the empty chair beside him, and picked it up to read a bit in order to reveal his boredom.

He skimmed the front-page without interest, catching the summary of an article about some witch from the ministry who had gone missing. Harry stared at the small picture of the woman who looked confused as if she'd just forgotten something, then turned dull eyes to look at Voldemort who was staring at his spoonful of lemon sorbet with a frown. Wondering if the death eaters and the ice cream analysing Dark Lord could be behind the disappearance but not really caring enough to ask, he returned to the news paper.

His eyes locked on another picture, and he stared at it in shock, blue eyes widening as he stared at himself, or rather, his real self. The picture of him was flattening his black fringe to cover the scar on his forehead, looking put out as if it annoyed him to have been caught on a photo. Under his photo there was a big 14 written, followed by a short text.

14 days have passed since Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, disappeared from his home in Surrey. For further information, go to page 5.

Harry almost ripped the paper in half in his haste to turn the pages, his heart drumming in his ears. What were they writing about him? What did they know? As soon as he'd found the article he began reading, squeezing the paper hard in his hands, crumbling it and making the small figures in the pictures flee.

Two full weeks have now passed since Harry Potter disappeared from his home in Surrey, and still the circumstances surrounding his disappearance remain unknown. The auror in charge of the case could not be reached for comments, undoubtedly trying to quiet the matter down, but our source within the ministry have told us that there are still no clues to the whereabouts of the Boy Who Lived.

Even so, the few facts known are enough to make the wizarding society fear for the life of the boy. As earlier reported the ministry went to Potter's address after having been alarmed of the use of unauthorised magic, but they did not find the attention seeking teen they were expecting. Instead they were met with an empty house and the corpse of Potter's muggle uncle, undoubtedly killed by magic.

Potter's room has been said to be stained with Potter's own blood, proving that he have been taken by force, and we can only guess what have-

Harry stopped reading, his temporarily blue eyes distant and unseeing as he stared at the paper before him. They knew he was missing… They were searching for him… But they didn't know anything of what had happened. They didn't know that he had nearly been beaten to death, causing the blood stains, they didn't know that he was the one who had killed Vernon and they didn't know that he had left willingly in order to not be found.

They thought someone had kidnapped him.

"Elijah?" Voldemort's voice came flouting form the other side of the crinkled paper, and without further notice Harry turned the paper to him, showing him the article.

"Why?" he whispered hoarsely, his eyes wild as he stared at the disguised Dark Lord, silently demanding an answer.

"Why what, Elijah?" he answered calmly, only glancing at the picture before taking the paper from him and neatly folding it so that the article could not be seen. Brown eyes met blue ones as the paper was put to the side, as if it was something to be forgotten.

"Why don't they know?"

"Not here, Elijah," was the only answer he got, and the Dark Lord rose from his seat.

"But-"

"No, Elijah. We will discuss this when we get home, but before that, we have to get your uniform at Madam Malkin's," Voldemort said sharply, clearly not going to accept any protests as he grabbed Harry's shoulder and lead him out of the ice cream parlour, the girls staring after them with surprise written over their faces.

Harry let Voldemort lead him over the street, too shaken to even think of resisting. Why didn't they know? How couldn't they know? It was so… so obvious! Did they really not know, or did they just want to keep it a secret from society, not wanting the world to know that their saviour had betrayed them? Was that it?

He was pulled out of his thoughts at the ping of the doorbell, and then calm closed around them when the door shut and closed out the many sounds from the street outside. The shop was just as Harry remembered it with the foldable screens, finished robes and other clothing on display and textiles everywhere.

"Good day," Madam Malkin greeted them in her motherly way. "How may I help you?"

"Elijah needs his Hogwarts uniform," Voldemort said, a small smile on his lips as he put a hand on Harry's shoulder in a fatherly way.

Madam Malkin immediately set to work, the measuring tape already whirling around him in its haste to take his measurements. He was soon ordered to take his robe off so that he stood in the shirt and pants he had under, and then she shooed him to stand on a stool where she started draping black fabric over him. Voldemort watched from the chair on which he sat as scissors flew through the air, freely cutting the fabric that was quickly stitched together again by needles holding threads, the magical work proceeding under the supervision of Madam Malkin, led by the small swishes of her wand.

Just as the cloth started taking the form of a robe, the door was busted open and the Weasly twins stormed in, identical down to every freckle, with red hair and lanky frames.

"Ronnykins!" they shouted as one, their blue eyes scanning the shop. Madam Malkin straightened and scowled at them, her hands at her hips, clearly ready to tell them off, but before she could voice her protests, the twins turned to each other, shaking their heads in unison.

"Doesn't seem like he's here, Fred."

"So it would seem, George."

Harry laughed lightly at their behaviour as he had always apprenticed their way of brightening the mood, and he remembered all the stupid and hilarious jokes they had made over the past four years, often making him laugh until he cried, his stomach cramping.

His laughter made the twins turn to him, identical smiles on their faces.

"Hello there. I don't think-"

"-we have met before."

"No, we haven't," Harry answered with a smile, hiding the pain it caused him to have to lie to them. But even though he missed them, their friendship and the time spent together, they could not find out who he was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Voldemort watch him, well aware that the man knew exactly what he thought and felt.

"I'm Elijah Spring, and this is Uncle Tom," he introduced them, nodding towards Voldemort where he sat on a chair by the wall.

"Hello Elijah," they chorused, grabbing a hand each and shaking it before turning to the disguised Dark Lord and giving him a sloppy salute. "Good day, Uncle Tom!"

Harry snickered even as Madam Malkin turned back to the sewing, leaving the troublemaking twins be since her customers didn't seem to be bothered by them. Fred and George turned back to Harry, still smiling brightly.

"Are you going to Hogwarts?" they asked, guessing since they recognized the school uniform that took shape before them.

"Yes, I am."

"Then we will meet on the train!" one of them stated.

"But we must look for our brother now."

"You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Red hair, freckles, long and thin."

"Pretty much like us-"

"-but not as handsome, of course."

Harry laughed as he shook his head, and he savoured the moment with them as it was almost like it used to be, with the only difference that they though he was a stranger. The reminder made his smile fade, but the twins didn't notice as they were already on their way out of the door, cheerfully waving good-by

XXX

Even though it was still early evening, twilight reigned in the forest as the rays of sunlight had been closed out long ago by the thick trunks of the old trees and the lush crowns with the many leaves, causing the dim light that illuminated the forest. The wind played in the leaves and threaded its way between branches, filling the forest with a indistinct whisper, as if the very trees were trying to tell the stories of what they had experienced throughout their long lives.

The ground was covered in a thick carpet of green, soft moss that cushioned every step, and thick clusters of fern so high it retched past your knees. Small fields of blueberry sprigs spread out between the trees, promising a vast amount of berries in only a few weeks. Here and there, randomly spread over the ground by the ice sheet that had once covered the lands, were round boulders of gray stone. They broke the symmetry of the relatively flat land as if they were challenging the great height of the trees, but the green moss of the ground had crept up over them, sometimes covering them totally, as if trying to pull them down into the ground and make them part of the forest floor again.

Two pillars rose from the ground, built with bricks and formed as if they were supposed to be part of a brick wall, but the wall was nowhere to be seen. A beautiful gate in wrought iron, a masterpiece of art, hung between those pillars, closed as if they were blocking the way to the road that started just on the other side of it, the edges of the straight road no longer definite as nature slowly tried to claim it.

It looked as if all you had to do was walk around the gate and the pillars, and then you could follow the road and sate your curiosity by finding out what was lurking at the end of the road. Of course, you couldn't see the strong wards encircling the grounds, acting as the brick wall that had never existed.

A sharp crack tore through the silence, scaring some birds to take flight. A boy and a man appeared outside the gates, the boy holding a kettle filled with supplies and the man bearing bags from different shops. Their free hands were joined together in a tight grip to enable the man to apparate both of them, but as soon as they'd landed the boy jerked his hand free and stood rigid on the dirt, glaring at the older man as his grip on the kettle hardened.

Voldemort sighted heavily, wishing the boy could have waited until they were back at the mansion and in his office. If he could have, he would have apparated directly to the front stairs like he had when they'd first found his little vampire, but since he didn't want Potter to be found in any way, he had changed the wards a bit and also widened the range of the nonapparition wards. As it was now, he would have to explain himself to the boy while standing here, in the open, where any death eater could show up practically at any moment.

Throwing up a silencing charm so that no one but Harry could hear him, he turned his attention to the still glaring boy.

"The wizarding society is unaware of what happened that night, Harry," Voldemort said with forced gentleness, using the boy's first name in order to sooth him. "There is, however, no reason to believe that Dumbledore wouldn't know, but he seems to be the only one except for the two of us and Severus."

"Then why haven't he spread it?" Harry asked, disbelief showing through the dull eyes.

Voldemort went silent for a moment, as he quietly debated what to say and what to censor, as well as trying to foresee how Harry would react. The truth would not be received well, that was for sure. The only question was how bad the teen would react, and if it would result in Harry turning away from Voldemort and the Dark.

"As he knows what you did, he will believe that you've turned from the Light and gone Dark, but he still needs you to be able to defeat me. Because of that he will use the information against you to make you follow his orders, to force you into obedience even though you no longer wish to follow him. He will blackmail you, Harry," Voldemort explained, all the while watching the boy closely to gauge his reaction to the news.

The teen's face was completely blank as if he had yet to progress the words or as if he had been shocked into unresponsiveness. The disbelief flittered over his features, quickly followed by anger, and he scowled furiously at the Dark Lord.

"I can't believe you, you fucking liar!" Harry bellowed, his face turning into an ugly mask of rage. "Dumbledore would never do something like that! He isn't like you, you manipulative bastard! Did you think I'd believe you? Did you think you would be able to manipulate me that easily?"

"Harry, think-," Voldemort attempted to reason with the boy, reaching out to grab his shoulder in order to calm him.

"NO!" Harry shouted and jerked back, away from the long-fingered hand. Voldemort felt an unexpected stab of pain at seeing his little vampire turn away, the bloodied eyes widening as Harry moved to run into the woods.

Without reflecting upon his actions he reached out again and wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, effectively trapping his arms by his sides. The boy flailed in his grip, trying to free himself in order to flee, but Voldemort simply rested his chin on the boy's shoulder. Even though it was forced, he enjoyed the closeness of the smaller body, and he knew that the boy instinctively enjoyed it as well. His little vampire was, after all, a vampire and was therefore somewhat dependent on human contact as his cool body missed the warmth of being human.

Placing his mouth just by the boy's ear so that his breath washed over his soft cheek, Voldemort quietly and calmly told him the truth the he knew the boy would have to accept even though he didn't wish to. After all, the seeds of doubt were already planted, and they had been growing in the back of Harry's mind for quite some time now.

"Do you really believe that man to be such a saint, Harry?" The body in his arms shivered and Voldemort hugged him closer against his chest, feeling his struggles weaken. "You know he isn't as good as he wants you all to think, don't you? If he was, then why would he leave you to those muggles?"

Harry shook his head in denial, blond stands escaping the ribbon band hanging down to cover his pained face, the blue eyes screwed shut as if he was trying to close out the truth. "He didn't know…" he whispered, but the protest was weak, clearly forced.

"Of course he knew, how could he not? He's kept an eye on you ever since you were put in that filthy muggle sty, and you know that, Harry. So why didn't he do anything?" The words were spoken softly, gently, as if he was trying to lessen the impact, but he was well aware that the force of the truth was only amplified when unforced. After all, he was only telling Harry what the boy already knew, and the trembling teen in his arms was well aware of that.

"He never wanted the best for you, Harry. He only wanted you to be dependent on him, so that he could manipulate you to believe anything he said, do anything he ordered. He only wanted you as a weapon against me, Harry."

Harry's legs gave in under him and Voldemort lowered the two of them down to the moss-covered ground, all the while holding Harry close. He gently stroked the teen's back as his little vampire cried, tears of betrayal and abandonment glistering on his cheeks.

Voldemort didn't reflect over why it pained him so to see his little vampire's tears, but he did not try to deny that he felt certain contentment. Finally, the boy had given up all illusions about that old fool and was ready to face the world and the darkness therein.

The bonds the teen had had to the Light had been severed.

Okay, I have a question for you all: the red berries that usually come about the same time as blueberries, what are they called? When I checked it up I got the translation "Lingon Berries" but it seems too simple since they're called "lingon" in swedish O,o So, are they called lingonberries or something else?

Okay, so next chapter Harry will be going to Hogwarts! YEY! XD