Here's the next chapter! Might be the last one for a few weeks, so enjoy!

Disclaimer: HP belongs to J.K.R.

Thanks for your support and feedback!

Warnings: light mentions of abuse

"What is it?"

Red eyes regarded him in disbelief. "That night, when you were with the Potters and I came to kill you," he whispered, still processing his thoughts. "When the killing curse rebounded…"

"Why did the curse rebound?" Harry cut in, asking the question that had been in the back of his mind for years. His curiosity could not wait, despite the fact he knew his father was going to tell him something important.

His father paused. "There is an ancient curse on the Slytherin bloodline dating back to Salazar himself," he explained quietly. "It prevents family members from killing each other, so that no one in the Slytherin family would try to murder a relation for power or position. Salazar's ancient spell must have blocked the killing curse that night."

Harry stared at him for a long moment, taking everything in, and he momentarily forgot their earlier conversation. "How did you survive then?" he asked quietly, hoping his suspicions were wrong.

His father turned to the fire, the light flickering over his emotionless face. "When I was younger, before I met your mother, I dabbled into the darkest magics in existence. They are called horcruxes."

Harry froze instantly, feeling as if he had been punched in the gut. He had thought – hoped – that this one piece of information was not true.

"You know about horcruxes?" his father asked, startled at his reaction.

"Dumbledore," he whispered, barely able to move his lips. "I had hoped it was just another lie. That you hadn't murdered innocent people to gain immortality."

"The first was an accident," his father murmured, shifting slightly to face him more directly. "I opened the Chamber of Secrets without knowing quite its capabilities. I did not regret the mudblood's death-"

"Don't say that word," Harry hissed at him.

His father stopped, his eyes narrowed. Harry tensed, but refused to back down. Finally his father sighed, the anger fading from his expression.

"So much like your mother," he mused, giving him a sidelong glance. "Very well. The muggleborn girl – Myrtle – she was not supposed to be there. But when it happened, I do not deny that I used the opportunity."

"She hadn't done anything wrong," Harry told him in disgust. "She was innocent."

His father said nothing, and his eyes returned to stare into the fire.

Harry got to his feet angrily, his heart racing. He wanted to scream at the man, punch the wall, break the vase nearby – do anything really to make this situation better. He had known Dumbledore was right-

He stopped at that last thought, and collapsed back in the chair. The Gryffindor gripped his hair tightly, trying to forget the Headmaster.

"Hadrian, look at me."

Harry slowly raised his head. A hint of concern flickered over the older man's face.

"I never claimed I was a good man," his father murmured. "I told you I've done bad things in my lifetime, and I will continue to do things for the greater good of the wizar-"

Harry visibly flinched at the last words, and the Dark Lord stopped speaking midsentence at his reaction. The dark-haired boy shut his eyes in horror, imagining icy blue eyes staring into his soul while repeating those same words. He remembered the feeling of the cruciatus curse twisting his body, the hours he spent dizzy from blood loss, the years he trained himself not to scream as he was tortured, all for the "greater good".

"Hadrian."

His name was spoken in a breathy whisper, unmistakable concern laced in the voice, but Harry's eyes remained shut. A cool hand touched his face, and Harry froze in fear, but he didn't dare move away. He anticipated pain, but none came.

"Hadrian," his father repeated softly.

The soft tone prompted Harry to open his eyes, and when he did so he relaxed slightly under the touch. This was his father, not the Headmaster, not Vernon Dursley, his father.

"Dumbledore," his father realized, and sighed when Harry stiffened. "I did not mean to echo his words. I must admit I had forgotten about that particular slogan of his." Slowly he withdrew his hand, and wary emerald eyes followed the movement. "Hadrian… That man will pay for what he did."

Harry looked away, staring at his clenched hands in his lap. He tried to process all that he had just realized, but his head was still spinning from the flashbacks of Dumbledore. Although those memories were starting to clear, he still felt sick to his stomach. How much was his father willing to sacrifice for power?

Harry started when a hand titled his chin up.

"Hadrian, tell me what you're thinking."

"How many others did you kill?" the black-haired boy asked coldly, and his father's hand dropped abruptly as if burned. "Did you make it a habit to kill all of the defenseless girls sobbing in bathrooms?"

"Do not presume you know me," his father hissed back dangerously, gripping the arms of his chair tightly. "You are oddly self-righteous for someone who was trained to kill another person their entire life!"

Angry pulsed through the teenager, and he observed his father coolly. "Killing a murderer is different."

His father froze at those words, and for a moment Harry was certain he had gone too far. But quickly the angry morphed into an expressionless mask. "To me, there is no difference," he stated coldly. "I was blinded by my hatred of muggles. While you, on the other hand, were blinded by misguided hatred of yourself. At the end of the day, it equals the same thing."

Harry shook his head in denial. "I had a cause-"

"And you think I did not?" His father interrupted impatiently. "I wanted to create a world where we did not need to hide, where magical children like yourself were not beaten and mocked for their abilities, where trash like my father would cease to exist!" He stopped suddenly, taking a deep breath, while Harry watched him with wide eyes. He got to his feet, turning so his back was now to his son. "I wanted to change the wizarding world, bring it back to its former greatness," he whispered. "And after I met your mother, I learned exactly how to do that…. until it was ripped away from me."

Harry stared, transfixed. At the mention of his mother, some of his rage melted away.

"I killed my father when I was sixteen," the Dark Lord said softly, gripping the top of the fireplace tightly with both of his hands. "I had hoped he had been unaware of my existence – that by some chance I was wanted by someone – but he hated me the instant he saw me. He… was my first real kill. The basilisk was the one who killed the girl, but it was by my own wand my father died."

Harry remained silent, taking in the words with mixed emotions. A shiver ran down his spine at the mention of this man killing his grandfather, but a piece of him understood. Being unwanted could drive you to do anything; he himself was a testament of that.

"Say something," his father murmured, when the silence stretched out for several minutes.

"Do you regret it?" Harry whispered, and the words were barely audible.

His father, Lord Voldemort, slowly turned around. Part of his face was in the shadows, and the other half was devoid of emotion.

"What would you think of me if I said I did not?" he responded softly.

Harry found it suddenly hard to speak. "I would call you human," he finally stated.

His father sighed, looking away. His expression remained unreadable as he replied. "I do not have the luxury of humanity."

Harry turned away, not knowing how to respond. It was silent again, and neither of them attempted to break it.

"It's late," his father finally stated.

Their eyes met for a split second before Harry nodded and turned away.

"Goodnight, sir," Harry said quietly.

"Goodnight, Hadrian," the Dark Lord whispered once Harry had already left. With a sigh he collapsed back into a chair.

Nagini slithered by his feet, appearing for the first time since the argument began.

"That did not go as I had hoped," he hissed to his familiar.

"But was it unexpected?"

The Dark Lord sighed at the intuitive snake's comment. "No." He stared into the depths of the fire, which was slowly dying off. "No it was not. But I cannot fault him for who he is."

"Mistress forgave you," Nagini told him comfortingly, sliding up the back of the chair. "Perhaps, with time…"

"Perhaps," the Dark Lord agreed half-heartedly, leaning back in the chair. He fingered his wand absentmindedly. "But for now I have other concerns…" He paused, before switching out of parseltongue to yell out a house elf's name.

An older elf appeared, and she gave him a respectful bow. "Master wanted something from Dallie?"

"Yes, I want you to deliver a message to Lord Lucius Malfoy. Tell him I wish to speak with him immediately."

The elf bowed. "Yes, Master."

She popped away, and the Dark Lord turned back to observe the pitiful fire. He sighed, and cast a quick "Incendio". It wouldn't be nearly as satisfying if his brother-in-law died of cold before this conversation was over.

Lucius Malfoy took the offered seat in front of the raging fire, but his lord remained standing rather than take the other chair. Lucius outwardly relaxed with practiced ease, but inwardly he was a swirl of emotions. But, like all proper Purebloods, he revealed none of his true feelings. Or so he thought…

"No need to be so nervous, Lucius," the Dark Lord said smoothly, smirking as he leaned against the fireplace.

"My lord-" Lucius began to object, but stopped when the Dark Lord raised a hand.

"You never were good at keeping your thoughts from me, Lucius," he murmured, his smirk dropping. "Especially your doubts."

Lucius felt as if he had gone cold, despite the close proximity to the fire.

"I am not accusing you, Lucius," he said quietly. "I'm not even going to question you. What's done is done. But I do need to know where you stand now."

Lucius eyed the dark-haired man seriously. Fifteen years ago he wouldn't have hesitated to answer this question. Fifteen years ago, when Caroline was still alive, he would never have wavered from the Dark Lord's – Tom's – right hand side. But so much had changed in the space of a year, and the years after had only added to the rift.

"Where do you stand now, my lord?" Lucius dared to ask, raising his head boldly. "Are you the Dark Lord who wishes to go about killing everyone who dares to look at him and lead his followers to pointless massacres, or are you the man my sister married who wanted to create a change for the better?"

Red eyes narrowed, and the Dark Lord took a single step closer to him. For a moment Lucius was expecting a green spell to head his direction, but the moment quickly passed. His brother-in-law sighed and turned away from him.

"All I want to do now is kill Dumbledore and avenge my wife," he stated. "Nothing else is more vital."

"What about your son?" Lucius asked, feeling suddenly angry. "Does he not matter to you? You only just got him back, you couldn't possibly-"

The dark-haired lord spun around abruptly, and interrupted him viciously. "Of course he matters! That bastard killed my wife and then raised my son as a sheep for slaughter! What else would you have me do?"

"Of course Dumbledore should die," Lucius agreed with a cruel glint in his eyes. "He should die a slow, painful death." He hesitated, the anger fading. "But you can't let this blind you. After Caroline died you went against everything she stood for – everything you stood for. You changed into someone Caroline would never-"

Lucius stopped when he saw his lord's face. The Dark Lord's magic mimicked his mood, and the fire flared considerably. The man raised his wand, and Lucius stiffened.

"Cruc-" The Dark Lord began, but stopped suddenly. "You have no right to say such things," he hissed instead, lowering his wand.

Lucius slowly relaxed, but he eyed the man in disbelief. The Dark Lord regarded him for a long moment, and the blonde noticed he was perfectly composed despite his overwhelming rage only a minute earlier.

"I had so many plans," the Dark Lord murmured, twirling his wand in a gesture that Lucius knew to mean his lord was trying to feel in control. "I was going to shape the British Wizarding World into a leading power. I had so many policies designed to save our ties to our ancestry, and stop corruption in the Ministry..." he trailed off, lost in thought.

Lucius felt suddenly regretful. "I know," he whispered. "I helped you start the reform of the Ministry after all." When the other wizard didn't answer, Lucius got to his feet. "We can try again. We can fix things, just as we always planned, my lord."

"Too much has changed," the Dark Lord stated quietly, turning away from the blonde lord.

Lucius stared at the back of this man – perhaps the most powerful man he had ever known – and couldn't help but feel furious at his words. "You wanted to know where I stand," Lucius told him icily. "Well I refuse to stand with a man who is only a shadow of what he once was."

The Dark Lord spun around, his eyes narrowed in warning.

"Kill me, torture me," Lucius said, with a bitter smile on his lips. "Either way, it doesn't matter. I had hoped your son would be enough to bring you back to reality, but I suppose it was wishful thinking."

The Dark Lord stepped closer, so they were only a few feet apart. His face was blank, carefully detached as he faced the blonde. "Is that so?" he whispered, smirking.

Lucius eyed him in confusion, startled the man was reacting to his comment as if it was meaningless.

"You know, Lucius," he murmured absentmindedly. "I do think you are correct." He smiled at the blonde's shocked expression. "This time that is," he added dangerously, narrowing his eyes. "Although I do not doubt a few crucios would be good for that tongue of yours. I never recall you being quite this straight-forward."

Lucius couldn't think of anything coherent to say. He only stepped back, confused.

"You did well in protecting my son," the Dark Lord continued, easing into one of the chairs. "It is only because of you that we learned the truth." When Lucius shook his head, the Dark Lord only motioned for him to sit down impatiently. "Do not expect me to overlook that, Lucius."

"I do not quite understand," the blonde admitted quietly.

The Dark Lord smirked at him. "I know." He seemed oddly smug, as if he had planned for the conversation to be confusing. "Now on to business. Tomorrow night…"

The next day Harry was surprised to see Dallie bring him breakfast to his room. The day before he had eaten with his father in the morning, but he guessed his father was busy. Or perhaps he just didn't want to be around him because of the previous night.

Harry wasn't quite sure what to think of the conversation from last night. Part of him wanted to just forgive his father for his past mistakes and move on. After all, he himself had some things from his past better left unturned.

He had known, of course, that his father must have killed people. But it was still scary for the fourteen year old. His mother had changed his father before he could truly become a monster, but the man still had blood on his hands.

Yet, a month ago he would not have hesitated in killing his father, when he saw him as his parent's murderer of course. And he even had entertained the thought of killing Death Eaters, certain they were all murderers, rapists, and Merlin knows what else. But now Harry could see how misguided he was. He could have killed people like Lucius Malfoy, people who have families, people who actually may not deserve to suffer.

Maybe he was wrong to judge his father so quickly. After all, until a month ago he had revered a man who Harry also knew to be a killer. And of course, Dumbledore had also tortured him frequently – a young student – while Harry had yet to hear of his father doing the same to someone his age. In fact, everyone who Harry had seen as evil a month ago had been furious on his behalf because of the treatment he received from the Headmaster, even when he had been their enemy.

Harry closed his eyes tightly. The more he thought, the more frustrated with himself he became. He had been so hypocritical and harsh, taking no thought into what his father had been willingly admitting to him. He only hoped his father would forgive him and that the trust was not severed.

Harry continued his book he had been reading the night before to distract himself from his worries. He hadn't wanted to seek out his father, and he was certain the man was angry at him. Nonetheless, the book was very interesting and a good way to get his mind off things.

Merlin, he was starting to sound like Hermione! He paused at that. He wondered what Hermione and Ron thought of his disappearance, and the whole school for that matter. It was only a matter of time before word got out.

"Hey, Potter!"

Harry looked up, startled. He hadn't noticed the door open, and was thoroughly surprised to see Draco Malfoy standing there with his classic smug smirk on his face.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted, getting to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

Draco sniffed as if offended. "Please. I know you were dying for my company."

Harry laughed at that. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Drake."

As always, he flash Harry an annoyed look at the nickname. "Shut up, Potter."

"Actually, it's Riddle now I guess," Harry told him uncertainly, shrugging.

Draco paused. "Yeah, I guess it is," he agreed quietly. Then he smiled. "Godbrother," he added.

Harry grinned at that. "Weird, isn't it?"

Draco nodded in agreement.

"But hey, at least we fight like brothers already," Harry commented lightly.

Draco looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Yes, well, I never knew I was fighting with the Dark Lord's son," he stated seriously. Then he smirked. "I might have practiced my curtsy a bit more."

Harry flushed. "Shut up, you prat."

"Well as enjoyable as you are," Draco said, "I didn't just come for conversation."

"Oh?"

The blonde grabbed a small object from an inside pocket and enlarged it with his wand. Harry smirked when he saw a broom in the blonde's hand. The smirk quickly dropped.

"I don't have a broom," Harry said quietly.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "You think I would overlook something like that? Nah, the Dark Lord bought one for you earlier according to my father. It's in the shed by the pitch. I'm surprised you haven't been down their yet."

Harry had a warm feeling at the thought of his father buying something for him and smiled. "I've been busy I guess," the dark-haired boy informed him, shrugging.

Draco looked at him smugly. "Well once I crush you, you may have to rethink how you spend your time, you bookworm. You're no better than Granger!"

Harry was surprised to hear the blonde mention his best friend, especially without using the term 'mudblood'. When he told Draco as much, the blonde shrugged.

"You'd be surprised what happens when you're gone for a month," the Slytherin said. "Granger and Theo are really close now, so we are all learning to tolerate her."

Harry raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Hermione and Nott?"

Draco smirked. "They especially enjoy meeting up in the broom closet."

"You're joking!" Harry exclaimed, fighting back a laugh.

Draco cast a sad glance to his companion. "If only I was. Theo has been all loony for weeks. He almost attacked me a few days ago because he thought I was hitting on Granger. Me, of all people. Absurd."

Harry laughed at the thought. "He must have it bad. How in Merlin's name did this happen?"

"They both spend an unhealthy amount of time in the library," Draco sneered.

The Gryffindor snorted before suddenly turned serious. "Does she know anything about me being gone?"

Draco eyed him carefully. "She suspects something is amiss," he admitted. "Theo is attempting to teach her occlumency so he could tell her the truth."

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that. He knew Hermione would not take kindly to the truth, but he really missed her.

"Come on, Gryffindork," Draco said suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts. He held up his broom.

Harry grinned.

That night Harry collapsed into bed, feeling pleased for the first time in a long time. He got along with Draco shockingly well, and the blonde made him laugh a lot more than Ron ever did. Plus, Draco wasn't after his gold or fame.

Harry slipped into sleep, and it was peaceful for many hours. It was not until much later that he was thrown into a vision.

He was seeing everything as if he was his father. He would recognize the wand in his hand anywhere. He was standing in front of a tall, castle-like building. It was black and filthy looking. A graveyard was to his left some distance away. Harry recognized the building from the pictures of Sirius Black's escape. This was Azkaban.

Harry strode forward purposefully, and bypassed the many dementors. They bowed almost eerily to the Dark Lord, and despite it being a vision Harry still shivered.

His father met no resistance. In fact, Harry was certain that the six Death Eaters behind him were certainly unnecessary. It was startling simple for them to get to the cells of the Lestranges.

Bellatrix Lestrange was waiting for them. Her hair was in crazy, unkempt curls, and she was covered in dirt and grime. The rags that served as her clothes hung off her skeleton body, and her dark eyes looked haunted. Despite her weak limbs, she lowered herself onto her knees instantly.

"My lord," she gasped. "I knew you would return."

Harry found himself kneeling slightly to help her up. He was shocked to see his father do something so kind for another. She relaxed in his hold, trusting him explicitly. He let go slowly, and he felt a wave of concern at her excessive shaking.

"I always return for my most faithful," Harry found himself saying, but of course it was his father who really spoke.

Bellatrix bowed her head. "I will always serve you, my lord." She went to kneel again, but he stopped her.

"Rest, Bella," he whispered softly.

Harry felt satisfied when she did as he said. It shifted to anger when he heard a report from a follower behind him.

"Rodolphus is dead, my lord. He must have been dead for a week now."

Harry didn't expect his father to actually have real feelings, perhaps because he was so good at hiding them outwardly. But he felt the sincere loss and regret at the news.

Bellatrix gasped at those words, and barely stopped herself from falling. She caught herself by gripping the stone wall.

"He was a good man, Bella," the Dark Lord murmured, but there was a firm edge to his words. "He will be honored. But we have no time to grieve. We must go."

Bellatrix only nodded shakily, and he reached to apparate them away. Before they did, a spell whizzed past them. The Dark Lord put up a shield automatically, with reflexes Harry was thoroughly amazed by.

Dumbledore appeared, with members of the Order flanking him that none of which Harry recognized. Intense hatred overcame the Dark Lord, and Harry gasped at the feelings.

He knew now just how his father felt about the Headmaster. His father envisioned the memories that the Potions Professor had shared with him, especially the memory of the second year Harry hurting himself. Never had Harry experienced such a degree of loathing, and he was astonished it was over himself.

"Do you have him then, Tom?" Dumbledore asked, and for an instant Harry almost believed he was angry. "After killing his parents-"

"Don't worry about the boy," the Dark Lord cut in coldly. "Worry about yourself, Dumbledore."

The Headmaster smiled at him coolly. "Oh Tom, always one for the theatrics."

His father suddenly struck, and a black curse came hurling towards Dumbledore. Dumbledore sidestepped the spell, his icy eyes narrowing.

"I wasn't done speaking, Tom," the Headmaster scolded him. "That is not very polite."

Curses after curses were sent towards the so-called Leader of the Light, but Dumbledore was an extremely good dueler. None of them hit their mark, but a few of the Order members had gotten caught in the crossfire. Harry was used to seeing his own blood, but it made him freeze to see others covered in blood.

"Caroline was much more respectful than you, my boy," Dumbledore added casually. "She was ever so polite, especially when she was begging me to spare her son's life. Of course, the devil's spawn deserves no mercy and neither did she."

Dumbledore was expecting the fury, but even he was taken aback by the ferocity of the spells sent his way by the Dark Lord. He attempted to get out of the way of a particularly nasty cutting curse, but a piece of it caught the Headmaster on the shoulder. He blocked the next spells, but looked clearly in pain.

"Die, you bastard," his father hissed. "Avada Kadavra!"

Dumbledore conjured a brick wall to take his place from the green light, and he returned the favor. Harry inwardly froze, but his father moved.

Dumbledore looked around himself, and Harry noticed he was startled to see many Death Eaters standing over injured or dead Order members. And the dementors were slowly circling in. Clearly not an idiot, Dumbledore called for retreat. He disapparited, along with his followers, and barely missed another killing curse.

"My lord!"

The Dark Lord turned around, and cursed when he saw Barty kneeling next to a bleeding Bellatrix. She had been sliced by a spell, and she was losing blood fast. His father moved quickly to her side, and started a complicated healing spell. The wound closed, but her heartbeat was slowly fading.

"I'm taking her to my manor," his father told Barty quickly. "Get Severus. Now!"

They vanished, and Harry woke up in a cold sweat.

He gripped his scar and knew without a doubt that his father was home. He also knew one thing for certain: Bellatrix Lestrange was dying.

It was hard to write the P.O.V. of Harry's vision through his father's eyes. I had a lot of trouble with it. I may go back and tweak things, but I tried to write it in a way where it was least confusing to the reader. So hope it was alright!

Snape features in the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed the cunning, complicated Dark Lord. He was quite the character in this chapter! As I'm sure you must have guessed, he was playing mind games with Lucius. Hope I made that clear enough. And Harry I believe reacted as he should of considering the situation. There will be more Harry/Voldemort next chapter!

Thanks for your reviews, they make my day! Happy reading :)