CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Harry tilted his head backwards, palm over his eyes while he allowed himself the luxury of counting to ten; slowly, very, very slowly.
By the time he opened his eyes again, Voldemort had already changed Hedwig's cage back to its normal proportions. He had lost count how many times he had unwittingly shrunk it in the past two and a half hours.
"Sorry, girl." he murmured apologetically, dutifully accepting the owl's irritant hooting and angry clicking of the beak.
If the monotonous prickling behind his scar wasn't suggestive enough, Harry could practically sense the burning pair of eyes boring into his back. His shoulders slumped. Bracing himself for the unavoidable, he turned towards Voldemort, overcome suddenly by the irrational urge to scuffle his shoe on the cell's floor; feeling chastised enough by that single look.
Voldemort was drumming his fingers on the armrest of the high backed chair he had conjured inside Harry's cell; the mental image reminding the teen for the umpteenth time a king of the medieval times, waiting impatiently in the torture chamber for the moment his victim would finally crack and spill all the information he needed to know.
"Glare all you want. It won't change the fact I've got no bloody idea what I'm doing wrong."
The rhythmic beat suddenly increased in frenzy, accelerating Harry's pulse along with it.
His body ached in the various places Voldemort had struck him with a Stinging Hex each time he failed to do it right, and while in no way it rivaled the wizard's Cruciatus, he felt sore all over.
"You are not handling a wand, Harry." the Dark Lord growled, red eyes ablaze and the teen could not thank the heavens enough that no more hexes had come hurtling his way.
"It's not what you are doing wrong, but rather what you are trying to do. How many times have you attempted to cast the Expelliarmus spell? Twenty? In all honesty, I ceased keeping count around the sixteenth reoccurrence."
"Twenty five, actually." mumbled Harry, cringing as the drumming abruptly halted.
"I was hoping you would realize on your own exactly how fruitless your efforts were proving when all they resulted to where random bursts of magic that had absolutely no relation whatsoever to your specific spell of choice."
He felt impressed that a person was capable of saying all that in just one breath.
"Harry!"
Jumping slightly, he looked up from where he had been toying with the hem of his T-shirt.
As nonchalant as Voldemort's face appeared to be, his eyes were simply furious. "Did you listen to a single word I uttered?"
Harry blinked. "You know, it'd actually help if you told me what your point is."
The Elder Wand was clasped between lean fingers in a matter of milliseconds.
Blanching, Harry fell sideways just in time to avoid the nonverbal spell Voldemort sent. The dark marble floor was smoking where it hit, causing Harry to sweat drop. Just what sort of Curse had the man been planning to cast on him?!
Lifting himself from the floor, Harry had only gotten his footing back for a single second before he was swept off his feet again. His breath left his lungs in one sharp exhalation, the force with which his body slammed against the wall momentarily causing his eyes to roll back into his head.
Voldemort stood before him, his free arm outstretched and brow furrowed into a fierce scowl. Long, pale fingers slowly started curling inwards.
Harry's eyes shot wide open when with every additional inch, more pressure was applied to his throat, as though there were actual, corporeal fingers wrapped around his neck, suffocating him at their leisure.
"Do you see me waving my wand, Harry? Do you hear me casting any incantations? No, and do you know why?" Voldemort took a few steps closer, bridging the distance between them to a more acceptable level. "Because you foolish, deluded boy, wandless magic is about intent and one's pure willpower. Right now I wish to crush you more than anything, and my magic strives to do as I please."
He curled his fingers further, and Harry's knees buckled beneath him. He slid down the wall, his windpipe almost completely out of oxygen.
"However," Voldemort's forehead smoothed out, the wrinkles marring his skin only a short while ago now completely extinguished, "if you are careless enough, you might just get carried away and exhaust your magical core, which inevitably, will leave you as nothing more than a squib."
He lowered his arm, fingers growing lax again by his side, and Harry was abruptly thrown into a coughing fit that scorched his throat with its intensity.
"It sickens me that a person embedded with a piece of my soul can be so ridiculously weak."
Harry's head jerked upwards, but Voldemort was already walking away from him.
"I'm. Not. WEAK." he hissed, as loud as his throat would allow, counting on the void cellar's echo to carry his voice across the room.
"What are you doing on your knees, then?" Voldemort snapped back, pivoting on his heel to look at Harry. "Get yourself up and persuade me otherwise." He turned, reclaiming his seat, gaze locking with the teen's once again. "You have proven you possess the potential of wandless magic, Harry. You better not disappoint me again when you have already shown me you are capable of so much more."
Hands braced against his knees, Harry froze.
He hung his head, refusing to allow the Dark Lord to see his flaming face. It was alarming and way too scary the amount of pride he felt from a single praise, despite how disguised said praise actually was.
'Shit!' Harry ran his fingers through black strands of hair, 'Not good, not good!'
That damned shard! What the hell was it feeling so flustered for?! Ever since Voldemort had assembled back whatever pieces of soul he had been left, the Horcrux inside Harry was giving him too much trouble. Before, the times he had actually felt that foreign presence were few, and all of them imprinted bitterly in Harry's mind.
That one time he had blown up his uncle's sister, that other time he had taken his ire out on his best friends last year when he had been taken to the Headquarters for the first time…when he wanted to rip Dumbledore's throat out after the attack on …
They were all times he had sensed a darkness deep within him, powerful and cruel, and instead of shutting it back inside, he gave in and embraced it.
He was terrified of the things he could do under the influence of the Horcrux.
He fell back against the wall behind him, gaze wandering lazily about the dungeon. A week had gone by since Voldemort's little experiment with the tank, and the progress he had made was bleak and discouraging. Under Voldemort's tutelage, he had been practicing every day in this cell, only able to tell the passage of time by the man's visits.
The torches inside his cell burnt non-stop, their flames never dying out, and since there were no windows he could never tell when it was day or night. Feeling too drained after each session, Harry would fall asleep shortly after Voldemort's departure and awaken by the wizard himself on the next day. The Dark Lord never allowed Hedwig out of her cage, on each visit refilling the bottom of her silvery home with dead rodents, and if Harry did particularly well during their practice session, Hedwig was given a big fat, juicy rat as a treat.
He felt sorry for his owl, responsible as he was for her imprisonment and denial of her right to roam the skies, but he had never felt more grateful for her presence. He would always curl one of his arms around her cage before letting sleep claim him, fingers snaking between glittery bars and his precious companion, before going to sleep herself, would carefully curl her talons around his digits.
As though snobbishly, afterwards, she would just bury her head beneath her snowy feathers and wouldn't so much as glance at him for the duration of his rest, considering her duty over and done with for the time.
He exhaled heavily through the nose, pushing away from his resting spot against the stone wall and rising to his feet. The depressing course his thoughts had started to take actually proved to be of value; it gave him an idea.
All this time he had been feeding his magic whatever kind of emotion he could get his hands on, but he was always combining it with a nonverbal incantation. However, Voldemort said he was going at it all wrong. Then, what if he were to treat his wandless magic the way he treated the Patronus charm? Sure, he had activated his wandless magic through anger in the past – like the time with his Muggle aunt, or yet again at Hogwarts a while back when Bellatrix wouldn't remove the Cruciatus from Hermione – but what if, like the requirements of the Patronus, he were to use emotion through the memories he had?
Harry spun around, his wide grin only broadening upon meeting Voldemort's satisfied curl of the lips.
The Dark Lord gestured sharply with his arm and Harry complied, closing his eyes to start the meditating process over. It was still taking him a while to complete this meticulous phase, especially after Voldemort had stressed the importance of it, but at least now he was finding it less tiresome to empty all thoughts from his head except of the one about gaining access to his magical core.
Once he felt the pulsing of his magic, so much like a second heartbeat pounding behind his own, he went on in search of a suitable memory. He wanted a pleasant one this time. It probably wasn't healthy for his magic to mostly activate via negative emotions.
"Harry!" Hermione chided through her laughter as he continued toying with her hair while using his other hand to toss around the braided piece that hung from Ron's cap.
Finally letting himself laugh out loud at Ron's comic expression, he pulled the Invisibility Cloak off of him.
"Blimey, Harry, that wasn't funny!" the redhead exclaimed, but when the other two failed to muffle their obvious disagreement, Ron's lips parted to let out a chuckle or two himself.
They turned towards the direction Malfoy and his lackeys had bolted off, which was as far away from the Shrieking Shack as possible, before sharing a look between them that sent all three into hysterics.
Perhaps he needed something stronger, though? He couldn't know for sure if having fun with his friends was actually enough. For a Patronus it would have done the job, but wandless magic was more demanding, right? A memory with deeper meaning, then?
…Deeper meaning…
His brows creased together dubiously. Would it work? To him, it was important enough.
He concentrated, careful not to think of any spells this time, just the result he wanted. He used the memory, feeling his chest tighten each time he played it over in his mind. He was persistent, though. As painful as it was to relive the memory, the emotions the incident had evoked in him were only precious ones. And that's exactly what he counted on.
"What now?" Voldemort's irked, rhetorical inquisition snapped Harry's concentration in half.
Rubbing his aching temples, the raven haired teen gazed around the expanse of space, disappointed and discouraged yet again when he noted nothing out of the ordinary. Well, at least there were no freak accidents, so he supposed it wasn't a total waste of stamina.
Footsteps, rushed and pounding, could be heard above them, causing Harry to stare upwards at the ceiling before looking down at Voldemort.
The Dark wizard was pinching the bridge of his nose in a fashion that Harry had caught him doing frequently when frustrated. He wondered if it was some sort of old habit. And actually having a nose did make the task a lot easier to perform.
Narrowed scarlet eyes jerked to his face so fast that Harry choked on his own inhaled breath.
Voldemort uncrossed his legs, not blinking once as he stood and approached Harry, black robe soundlessly enveloping his sides as he walked.
He took hold of the boy's chin, raising it up with his thumb and index finger. "Perhaps you require a short respite. You will provide me with far more fetching results after you have recovered some of your energy…" his grip tightened, the nail of his thumb digging painfully into Harry's skin, "won't you, my treasure?"
Harry winced when the man applied more pressure, certain the skin had broken this time. "I'll try again."
Seemingly appeased, Voldemort sauntered over to the entrance, the iron bars of the cell sliding open to grant him passage. Itching to get a glimpse of anything that wasn't the dungeon, Harry hurried to fall in step with him. Considering that the bars hadn't closed behind Voldemort, he gathered it was acceptable to venture outside.
"You might want to find a different method of punishment." Harry surprised himself by saying, "Otherwise, I'll start to think you've got some sort of neck fetish."
Voldemort's movements didn't falter, but he cast Harry a strange look over his shoulder. "Neck fetish?" he repeated slowly, as though he had misheard.
"Well, yeah." Harry ran a finger up and down his throat, wincing ever so lightly. "I've lost count of how many times you've tried to strangle me so far. If it weren't for Snape's healing salve my neck would be black and blue by now."
Voldemort made a thoughtful sound deep within his throat. "That's exaggerating it a little, don't you think? However, if a little variety is what you seek, who am I to deny you?" His voice was practically dripping with sarcasm, making Harry grimace. "You have been making progress, though, punishments aside. Convenient as our current workplace may be, I believe it is due time you were moved to more appropriate quarters." He paused, humming quietly to himself. "One of the guest chambers, perhaps? I did promise I take good care of my possessions."
Harry bristled. "I'm not a blasted object, and I certainly aren't a guest in this place!"
"…I shall take that as a no, then."
Voldemort climbed the last step, pausing just a few feet inside the drawing room and Harry didn't think twice before he sidestepped the wizard. The man could take all bloody day to deal with whatever his followers had done for all Harry cared. It suited him fabulously, in fact. If the Death Eaters were here that meant the meeting chambers would be empty.
Good. He really needed a window, even if it was just to look outside. He was feeling suffocated all of a sudden.
Something kept crunching quietly beneath his feet and he glared down at the ground, almost immediately halting mid-step. He lowered his foot, staring in stunned silence at the deep green strands of turf that surrounded his shoes. Blinking slowly, he lifted his head to glance around the room.
"Wow," was all that he could come up with.
When did Voldemort decide to grow a meadow in the drawing room of his Headquarters? Not that he complained; the place could really use some brightening up. It just…didn't seem like the Dark Lord's style, at all. Far from it, actually. He took notice of the Death Eaters for the first time, gathered in front of the still open double doors, like they had been in too much of a hurry to bother close them.
Frowning at their identical expressions of bewilderment, his gaze sought the Dark Lord's form, intrigued when the man bent to pluck out one of the many flowers that had grown amidst the grass.
He surveyed it closely, handling the closed bud with utmost care and caution.
With the inspection obviously over, crimson eyes centered on him, a slight upturn quirking the corner of his mouth. Mutely, the Dark Lord held out his hand and the flower bud obediently rose in the air, gliding smoothly over to Harry. Perplexed, the teen let it perch on the back of his fingers where it stayed, perfectly balanced and steady.
"What is it?" he asked after a while, positive there was a specific motive behind the gesture. He really had trouble thinking that the wizard gave him the flower simply because he thought it was pretty.
Scoffing as he undoubtedly caught that last bit, Voldemort pointed at the bud. "Proof."
"Proof?" echoed Harry uncertainly, "Proof of what?"
"That I am never wrong. You are capable of much more."
Harry was stumped. The collective intake of breath from the Death Eaters seemed to reverberate around them, magnified by the silence that stretched out.
He gingerly cradled the bud in his palm, staring at it dubiously. "This is mine?" he asked softly, "I did all this?" There was no reply to any of his questions, not that he had expected any to be frank. Voldemort had already made his judgment, that much was clear. But Harry still hesitated. His wandless magic had never responded to his will so perfectly before, presenting him with the exact results he wished.
The bud tingled suddenly in his hand, and he dropped it with a gasp, shuddering from head to toe at the warmth that spread through him.
A warmth that was strangely familiar…
He kneeled down on the grass, gathering the bud and holding it carefully between his closed palms. Mere seconds later, the flower pulsated again, sending another wave of that pleasant sensation throughout his body and causing him to hum in appreciation. He separated his hands, staring at the bud in a whole new perspective. He could feel his magic within the not-quite-yet flower. He could sense it as though it was emanating from deep inside his core, like it was still a part of him.
The flower bud appeared to shiver in his hand, and right before his eyes, it parted slowly. Petals began stretching out, elongated and white. He shut his eyes, a sweet aroma tingling his nose. He knew before he saw it what kind of flower had been born from the small bud.
"A lily," he whispered, smiling. "I really did it."
Like his mother, when she had transfigured that lily flower into Slughorn's fish, he too, had given life.
He laughed, he couldn't help it.
Stretching his arms upwards, he threw the flower into the air, breaking into a grin when it remained airborne, spinning in circles above his head. He knew he was laughing like a little kid, but he just felt so overwhelmingly giddy; it was like discovering the existence of magic all over again.
He buried his hands in the foliage around him, weaving his fingers through the green threads and laughing again when he felt the resonating pulse, like the grass itself was alive. He flicked a nearby closed bud as gently as he could, grinning widely once it bloomed to life upon his touch.
Like a chain reaction, all of the flowers in the little meadow began spreading their petals and Harry jumped to his feet, spinning on the spot as he watched them bloom into lilies one by one.
"Amazing," he whispered breathlessly, "Magic is amazing."
A couple of feet away, Severus Snape staggered backwards, onyx eyes unseeing as they stared on ahead, only vaguely aware that someone had taken hold of his forearm and was shaking him.
"Severus!" came the hissed, urgent call of his name and he turned by pure instinct, meeting the steely, silver eyes of his long time friend.
"Are you alright?" Lucius asked, his stony mask giving way for a frown when he failed to respond.
Blinking rapidly, he schooled his features into something more appropriate than a deer caught in the headlights. He righted his stance, shaking off the other man's hold. "Fine. A little surprised is all."
"Is that your definition of little?"
He shot him a sidelong glare and the blond wisely shut his mouth, but not before allowing a chuckle to slip past.
"Father," Draco whispered fervently by Lucius' side, his gaze not once extracting from the centre of the room. "Is this really Potter's doing?"
Lucius redirected his attention from his son to the single other teen, watching with undisguised fascination as he made the soaring flower twirl in a spiral pattern down the length of his outstretched arm, his eyes alive with emotion. It was a sight that possessed its own type of magic.
"Yes, it would seem so, Draco."
His son spoke no further after that short affirmation, but the awe in his eyes spoke volumes on its own and admittedly, it worried Lucius to a degree. He surely hoped this development didn't alter Draco's view of Potter more than it should, because one thing he could swear with utmost certainty was that their Lord didn't share.
And if the gleam in the man's eyes was anything to go by, he held little doubt that after this display, Potter's leash was going to shorten more.
"Oh, please." Bellatrix scowled, "Don't tell me that little twerp's got you fooled by his little show." Her curved wand was already cradled between her fingers.
"Bella," Narcissa muttered warningly, grasping her sister's wand arm and squeezing firmly.
"No, Cissy!" Bellatrix hissed, swatting away her hand and taking a step to the side, away from arm's reach. "Someone's got to show that brat the harsh facts of reality." Mind already made, the witch raised her wand and before anyone could stop her, she waved it in a sharp arc above her head.
In the blink of an eye, the lily that was dancing in little circles around Potter sped off across the room and into her awaiting hand.
The rest of the Inner Circle spun instantly to face her, warring expressions of puzzlement, disapproval and excitement displaying on their faces. Potter appeared a little dazed at first, unable to pinpoint the missing flower until he noted the source of everyone else's attention.
Grinning once she had his undivided focus, she grasped one of the petals and dangled the flower in front of her face, waving it as though to beckon a dog over. "Looking for this, Potty?"
Her sole answer was only a narrowing of the eyes.
Now, that wouldn't do.
"Flowers? Really, brat? You act like you achieved something because of some stupid flowers?" She sneered, scrunching up her face. "You're nothing but a child, with a childish mind. A child who still thinks that little rainbows and sunshine have a place in this world."
"Bella, stop!" her husband growled next to her, but she paid him no mind.
"Wanna know what's gonna happen to little babies like you?" she cooed, smiling sharply, never noticing how the strands of grass around them had started turning black as they withered.
"Rodolphus, shut her fucking mouth!" Barty hissed angrily, fingers twitching in agitation.
Eying the approaching mass of dead foliage, Rodolphus hurried to grab one of his wife's arms, his brother doing the same with the other, only for Bellatrix to skillfully spin away from their hands, her black dress dancing wildly around her. Grinning from ear to ear in sheer enjoyment, Bellatrix tossed the lily as high as it'd go before sending a red jet of light in its direction. The moment they came into contact, the flower burst into fiery flames that turned into red, glittery sparkles as soon as they started to descend.
Rodolphus chanced a glance to the floor, taking an instinctive step backwards. Not that it was of any help when the black grass had already spread in every corner of the room.
Their Lord on the other hand, seemed completely unperturbed with the decayed grass beneath his feet. Arms folded over his shirt covered chest, he was leaning against the wall with a passive expression, eyes intent on the raven haired teen before him.
The look in those crimson depths didn't bide too well for anyone.
"You stupid woman!" Barty grumbled under his breath, edging as far away as possible from Bellatrix.
Bellatrix merely scoffed at him.
"You do not provoke a person who has yet to tame his wandless magic!" Lucius yelled, face set into a fierce scowl. "Haven't you learnt that after all the times he has blasted you away?!"
"Exactly my point, dear Lucius!" Bellatrix crooned, "Even those outbursts were like a child throwing a tantrum. This is an adults' world, not a playground!"
"An adults' world, huh?" Everyone turned as one at the sound of the voice, but Potter wouldn't do them the favor of looking away from the ground, brushing a withered, dry lily aside with his shoe. "Then how about I give it to you the adults' way; simple and to the point?"
They all became rooted to the spot, unable to move under the familiar, piercing crimson stare. Pupils dilated into thin slits and irises a deep, livid red, it took them a marginal while to connect those eyes with Harry Potter's face.
The dead lily by his feet burst suddenly and roots erupted out of the husky, tattered petals. They twisted together, circling and enveloping each other until they finally merged into one thick vine. It slithered on the ground, reaching the boy's shoe and climbing up the clothed leg. They followed its procession upwards, seemingly enamored, as it coiled around Potter's waist briefly before it continued its journey all the way up around his torso where it paused at the shoulders.
It didn't stop growing, though. The vine rose to hover high above Potter, swaying like a cobra preparing to strike.
Potter's lips curled into a smile that was all edges, and as if it was issued a voiced command, the vine sprouted thorns as black as the rest of it before it lunged.
Preservation instincts kicking in, they all jumped aside to avoid its deadly path, but it appeared to have one target alone in mind. With lightning fast speed, it wrapped around Bellatrix's throat, causing the witch to cry out as the talon like thorns dag into her flesh. Elongating further, it dragged the thrashing woman across the floor and swiftly slammed her against the nearest wall, her skull producing a gruesome cracking sound that had half of the audience cringing.
Bellatrix fell quiet, her body growing limp in the vine's hold. Almost simultaneously, the vine released her completely, retracting to let her motionless form fall into a heap of tangled limbs.
With a full body shudder, it shrank in length, lowering back to uncoil quickly from Potter's body before it disappeared into the ground.
Silence, thick and palpable, veiled the entire room as Potter slowly made his way over to Bellatrix, bending to grab her chin non too gently, fingers steadily growing redder from the blood that was trickling down her face. Upon contact, Bellatrix jolted awake but other than fluttering open her eyelids she made no movement.
"This is the last time, Bellatrix." Potter whispered sweetly, "Touch anything that belongs to me ever again, and I'll show you exactly how strong a fuel my hatred is. I've already cast one Unforgivable for your glorious self; what's one, little Avada if it means ridding myself of you?" Smiling a soft, gentle smile that was so out of place when combined with those vicious eyes, Potter smashed her head backwards, rendering her unconscious once more.
"Narcissa Malfoy," he called out, rising smoothly to his feet.
Not knowing what to make of this Harry Potter, Narcissa contemplated ignoring him, but in the end, driven from her sister's welfare, she stepped forward.
Potter wiped his hand clean on the fabric of his trousers, observing her lazily. "I don't see how you can stomach familial bonds with a creature this vile, but if you care for her in the slightest, you better hope she doesn't cross me again."
"Take her away, Narcissa," the Dark Lord intoned sharply, pushing away from the wall, "before she perishes from blood loss."
Bowing gratefully her head, Narcissa hurried over to her sister, Severus by her side.
"Hello, my Horcrux." Voldemort greeted softly, rounding on the teen. "Pleasing as it is to know you grow stronger after extended periods of time in my presence, I would like you to grant control of that body back to its owner."
Identical red eyes narrowed, the slit like pupils becoming more pronounced. "Excuse me?"
He heaved a sigh, "I happen to have plans for the boy, but he will not be of much use sleeping his days away to recover all the vital energy that you wasted so foolishly."
"Is that what you think of yourself?"
"For someone claiming to be me, you played astoundingly well the part of the fool." Voldemort rebuked, lips curving downwards, "You acted thoughtlessly, in spite of knowing how taxing further use of wandless magic would be for Harry's body."
"Such prompt concern for my landlord," his Horcrux grinned toothily, "And in case it has slipped your mind, I am you."
"Correction; you used to be me. I doubt even you know who you are anymore."
"Coming from you," the boy seethed, "other me, that was the stupidest thing I've heard."
Voldemort tipped his head to the side, keen eyes flickering over the other's face. "Was it, really? You have been with Harry his entire life, minus the first few months. It is safe to assume he has shaped you according to his morals and beliefs, rather than the other way around."
"That's ridiculous!" the Horcrux snarled, features contorting in a furious grimace.
"So much so," Voldemort went on, unabashed, "that the single use I have for you now, is as a means to preserve an infinite connection with your host."
Harry's body reared back as if physically struck, the Horcrux's eyes wide. "You can't possibly mean that." he breathed out.
Voldemort chuckled, the sound only barely audible. "I wonder about that. Now, do not make me repeat myssself. Grant control of that body back to itsss owner!"
Harry's teeth grinded together so harshly, that the motion actually reached Voldemort's ears. The Horcrux fought for control, but faced with a direct order from the original soul it was obvious how difficult that was proving to be. He trudged back a couple of steps, eyes wild as he clutched his head in a vice grip, hissing obscenities that had the rest of the room's occupants grow wary. They couldn't hope to decipher Parseltongue, but they certainly gathered the general animosity in the air.
The Horcrux tossed back his head, emitting a primal shout that sounded eerily similar to a wounded animal before falling abruptly quiet.
"Harry?" Voldemort prompted, pleased to find the boy's conscious slowly returning to him.
Harry's head snapped down, casting a pair of heterochromatic eyes his way. One belonged undoubtedly to the Horcrux, but the other was vivid green with a normal, round pupil.
The Dark Lord arched a single eyebrow, noting the utter blankness that was reigning inside Harry's mind as the teen gazed around in a stupor.
He stepped forward, instantly drawing the teen's attention.
Harry eyed him distrustfully, confused more than ever. "What's going on?" he said at last, looking at the husky, black plants around him. What the hell happened to this place? This definitely wasn't how he recalled it last. His brow creased together, distraught when he discovered the blanks in his memory. He had no recollection of how the entire meadow turned out like this.
'I took it upon myssself to sssettle a few mattersss you were ssstruggling with.'
Harry's head swiveled towards the Dark Lord. That voice had sounded exactly like him, not to mention the sibilant hissing was a dead give away. As he studied him, though, the man appeared awfully calm, like he hadn't just spoken inside Harry's mind.
Groaning, he put a hand to his head, seriously questioning his mental health.
'Exactly how low isss your ssself-esssteem?'
"Did you say that?" Harry narrowed his eyes at Voldemort, a sickening feeling unraveling deep in his gut.
Voldemort cocked his head, merely blinking back.
'Guesss again,'
"Where the heck are you?!" Harry shouted, exasperated that he was keep hearing voices but couldn't find the source.
'That'sss becaussse you're looking in all the wrong placesss. How about delving a little deeper?'
Harry's entire body grew rigid. He twisted, looking at the room again, gaze landing on the wall to his side and he nearly stumbled in his haste to step away.
Red liquid was smeared all over the wall, some of it still fresh and sliding downwards to add in the dark red, miniature pond on the floor. He brought a quivering hand up, staring in mute horror at the smudged blood on his skin.
"…What did you make me do?"
'Nothing that you didn't desssire. Or did you already forget your intent to sssee Bellatrix Lessstrange dead? Ssso awfully sssweet, more powerful than the hatred you fed me for Dumbledore. I merely acted upon your deepessst wissshesss.'
"What do you know about my wishes, you parasite?!" Harry growled lowly, "I want to see her suffer, yes, but it was never my intention to kill her! Murder…" he faltered, eyes screwing shut. "can only create monsters." He shook his head, glaring at the bloody mess before him. "But I'll be damned if I let you turn me into one."
'What are you doing?'
Harry ignored it, hands clenching into fists by his sides. He breathed deeply, willing himself to calm. "Get back to whatever dark corner you slithered out of."
'No! I won't be ordered by the likesss of you!'
"This is my body. Now get the hell out of my head!" He pictured the entity, a little black sphere, miniature compared to his own soul and forced it back, burying it into the farthest corners of his mind where it had no control and no purpose but to lie dormant; a mere specter that could only watch.
'You ssstupid boy! Ssstop!'
'GET OUT!' Harry screamed inside his head, the Horcrux echoing the sentiment with a cry of its own, pouring into it all the loathing its existence possessed. In the end, there remained only silence in his mind.
Harry's eyes, having reverted back to their usual green, rolled back into their sockets, sensing yet unable to prevent his body from tipping sideways.
He grunted when he collided with a hard chest, pushing away from the arms that encircled him.
"Don't touch me!" he hissed lowly, staggering a couple of feet away from Voldemort's reach, a subconscious part of him fearing the man would just finish what his Horcrux had started.
"This is all your fault," he heard himself mumble. He was feeling faint, and so hungry.
He had just consumed a few hours ago the food Voldemort had brought him before they started their daily session, but he was feeling ravenous already. Like he hadn't eaten since yesterday.
Spotting the long couch in his peripheral vision, he trudged over, wanting more than anything to just lie down for a while.
The husky remains of the once lively grass crunched noisily under his weight, the sound making him flinch. Was he really the one that turned something so beautiful into something so gruesome? And the flowers…the magnificent lilies with their pure color and sweet fragrance, he had destroyed them too.
He tripped without his notice, only registering some form of change when he felt the pressure of the arm around his waist, supporting him.
Eyes half lidded, he allowed Voldemort to aid him, not entirely sure if he could have made it all the way without collapsing on the floor and just go to sleep on top of the dead plants. The notion sent a violent shiver up his spine. They reached the end of the couch and Harry withdrew from Voldemort's grip, climbing on. He crawled over to the top before falling on his side and remaining that way.
Warm fingers coursed through his hair, nudging his fringe away from his forehead, making him force open his eyes.
The blazing hearth in the fireplace across was creating shadowy patterns on the Dark Lord's looming face. "No need for so much mourning," Voldemort said, "Bella's pride was wounded worse than her body."
So he hadn't killed her. That was good, he supposed.
But still…
"What're you doing to me?"
The fingers not once stilled in their caress, urging Harry's state of mind to grow lax, despite his efforts otherwise.
"Nothing much, I assure you." Voldemort shrugged minutely, and though his features weren't discernible in the fire's shadows, Harry could hear the quirked smile in his tone.
"You see, my treasure, you owned the right foundations from the start. Unfortunately, in the hands of all the wrong people, something went wrong in the framing process." Voldemort chuckled, "I'm merely reconstructing you to how you should have been." And with one last, lingering touch, the Dark Lord stepped away, letting Harry burrow his face into the cushion, hoping beyond hope it could open up and swallow him whole.
END OF CHAPTER
God, I just love drama between those two!
Hope you liked it!