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Those words struck him like a lightning bolt. One of them? How had Harry figured it out? Had he seen a glimpse of his childhood inside him? Or had it merely been Harry's intuition?
"One of them?"
Harry eyes were fixed at his throat. He had said that he saw a snake there and he had been adamant that it wasn't a hallucination. His next words were enough to pull the ground from underneath his feet,
"One of those monsters."
It felt as if the sky had crashed upon his head. Those monsters? Harry thought he was one of them? Had he really become one of them? Hadn't he sought to not turn into the likes of them…those beasts or monsters as Harry put them, had taken everything from him. Harry spoke again,
"What do you see when you look at me?"
Voldemort regarded Harry, his lean figure, his emerald green eyes, his catastrophic, raven black hair and those soft pink lips. He hadn't paid attention to those details before or maybe he hadn't looked at Harry from this perspective. When he didn't reply, Harry spoke again,
"I'll tell you what I see. There's an extremely dense darkness around you, it surrounds you, swirls around you and it's darker…darker than the darkness I saw around Albus and those monsters…And then there's that snake around your throat, I think…I think it's made of the same darkness that surrounds you because I saw it turn to it once and vanish into your skin…Don't you see all that when you look at yourself in the mirror?"
Harry's eyes fluttered shut, a shuddering breath left his body and he slumped down on the carpet. He observed him closely and couldn't help but contemplate. He had shaken away Harry's comments about the snake as lies and hallucinations before but he had a feeling he could not neglect the matter any further. And then there was the fact that Harry had seen something more in the memory. He had mentioned the darkness. What was it? What did it signify? And the main question was whether Harry really saw it or imagined it. When Harry spoke again, his voice was barely audible and extremely weak…. weaker than he had ever heard it,
"I can't understand any of this…What am I seeing?...I just spoke in a language I'd never even heard of before today. I think I might be going crazy…..I think you're right…..I might be hallucinating….You said an ordinary human being would die from the fear in this castle….I think I'll die from insanity."
Voldemort stood still and watched the distressed expression on Harry's face,
"You are not going insane and I shall not allow you to die."
Harry barked out a humourless laugh,
"Yeah right…. because my life doesn't belong to me…it belongs to you. But my mind is mine and if I lose it then I won't be any good to you alive."
Voldemort stepped closer to Harry, grabbed him from his shirt front and raised him to his feet. Harry allowed himself to be lifted. The boy had his eyes closed again,
"Do you have a library…books…..something I can read."
He hadn't been expecting that question from Harry and he was a bit reluctant to allow him access to his books. The boy was a walking disaster and his prophesized downfall. But somehow despite his urge to hurt him, torture him, kill him, he couldn't refuse him that request no matter how much he reasoned with his brain,
"Yes, I do."
Harry frowned,
"It's not on the map. Why?"
Voldemort bristled. He should have never given him that damned map. The whole purpose of giving him the map was so that the boy stayed out of trouble but it seemed the map had been the cause of all the trouble, Harry had gotten in up until now,
"It is in my private quarters. You may tell me what you wish to read about and I shall bring you the books."
He watched as Harry's frown deepened and his forehead creased as he thought hard. Finally, Harry spoke,
"Anything about that language and those monsters and what I'm seeing."
Voldemort released Harry's shirt,
"I can provide you with several books on Parseltongue. As to what you are seeing, I cannot help you with that."
Harry mumbled something incoherent. Voldemort held Harry's shoulder and spoke sternly,
"Do not mumble in my presence."
Harry hesitated before speaking,
"I think I can see souls."
Voldemort's grip tightened on Harry's shoulder,
"You can what?"
Harry didn't repeat himself and stood silent. Voldemort's grip on Harry's shoulder turned bone shattering,
"Tell me!"
Harry resisted the urge to whimper as unimaginable pain erupted in his shoulder. Voldemort loosened his hold and when Harry felt fairly in control of his voice he spoke,
"I think I can see souls. I'm not sure. I'm really not sure about anything anymore. Everything about me is so messed up now."
Voldemort pulled his hand away from Harry's shoulder. His thoughts were in havoc. What was it the boy? It seemed he was full of surprises and he had a feeling he had barely scratched the surface. It was also obvious that the boy was completely oblivious to all his hidden skills,
"Will you get me the books?"
Harry's question sounded too innocent. And he was forced to speak,
"Yes, I shall get you the books but I am certain that you shall not be able to read them."
Voldemort saw a wide smile curve Harry's lips and light up his face. He felt his heart beat quicken at the sight. The room felt visibly warmer. What was wrong with him? But before he could step away, Harry started talking enthusiastically,
"I love reading. I never could afford books since I never had any money, but whenever I went to town to get the groceries for my aunt, the owner of the bookstore, Remus, always kept some books aside for me to take home. They were my entire universe. When I finished all my chores for the day, I used to return to my shed and read by the oil lamp. At that time, I used to just lose myself in them and I felt like I was in them, in another world, where I could be whatever I wanted to be and go wherever I wanted to go. That was the only time of my day that I felt truly alive…but…"
Harry's smile fell, stealing the warmth from the room and Voldemort's heart,
"But what?"
Harry shook his head,
"The shed was struck by lightning and everything inside, including my books got burnt to ashes. My entire world burnt down in a flash."
Harry stumbled to the bed and slumped down on it. Voldemort watched as Harry wiped his eyes,
"That happened a night before I got here. Maybe it was all destined to happen. Maybe fate took them all from me before sending me here so that I wouldn't miss them."
He had nothing more to say to the boy because he was right. Fate was definitely playing a devious game. The boy's very being was proof of that. This was the second time he had told the boy that he would hurt him and failed. What was it about him that always made him stop? He needed to understand the boy but how could he understand him when the boy didn't even understand himself. He was sure that nothing had perplexed him before as much as the boy did now. Wordlessly he vanished from the room.
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