Hey all, here's the next chapter! It is a bit shorter than my usual chapters because it was originally combined with chapter 3 of this fic, but it was getting pretty lengthy and it made too much sense to cut it where I did.

As usual, special thanks to my partner in crime foreal26, my fantastic beta x102reddragon, and to HonorverseFan for being the consummate professional that he is.

XXX

Chapter 2: Serpent in the Mist

Voldemort's scarlet eyes seemed to drip with mirth as he stalked back and forth in Harry's mind's eye, the shimmering darkness of their surroundings clinging to his skeletal frame and rippling forth with his every movement. Lithe, bony fingers wove patterns in the air with serpentine grace in rhythm with his footfalls, almost as if the Dark Lord could not help but mock his enemy with a gloating dance.

"I say, young Harry, you do not seem to be as happy to see me as I am to see you." Dark humor positively oozed from his every word. "What is the matter, boy? You appear to be under quite a bit of stress. Not sleeping well? Trouble with nightmares?"

If Harry had possessed a physical form he would have widened his eyes in shock. "You... Why? How?" He tried to gather the strength to bite back, but words had fled him; his composure had been shattered by the weariness wrought by the last month, and Voldemort had caught him on his back foot.

The last thing he could remember was finding his elderly friend Jim's dead body in the alley after the dementors had attacked, and he had suddenly woken up in this strange dark mist. Voldemort had appeared and told him they were in his mind. How was this even possible?

Voldemort's grin widened. "The how is simple. Your oblivious mind has been under attack since our last meeting, Harry Potter! I do confess that you have held strong for an admirable amount of time, but it was a simple task to penetrate your natural defenses while you were oh, so vulnerable."

Voldemort had been attacking his mind for weeks? Over such a great distance? Harry knew nothing of mind magic, but that didn't seem feasible- just how powerful was his enemy?

"As for the why… We'll get to that, dear Harry. For now, we will simply enjoy the pleasure of each other's company. I did work rather tirelessly to make this meeting of the minds happen, after all. I'd rather savor our time together."

A dull green tinted the mist surrounding them and it seemed to shiver in disgust at the Dark Lord's words. Not for the first time, Harry noticed that it seemed to respond to his emotions.

I've got to get myself under control, maybe I can use this place to my advantage. He did say this is my mind after all.

"If only it were that simple, boy."

Harry plunged further into despair, and a bitterly cold wind swept through his mindscape. Voldemort could hear his thoughts as well.

Voldemort laughed, the sound feeling unnatural and disturbing as it pierced the air. "I have spent the better part of half a century mastering every aspect of the mind arts. You are a mere schoolboy with no apparent talent or dedication in the slightest. You have survived because you have been apparently blessed by the divine spirit of fortune and flukes, but you will find no such luck here. I hold all the cards, and you face a master while you wield a dead hand."

The blatantly muggle poker reference cut through Harry's dazed and confused state, "I thought that you would avoid muggle culture seeing that it is beneath a Dark Lord such as yourself." He tried to put as much scorn into the term as he could, but his shaking, fragile voice made the effort fall flat. Baby steps.

Voldemort quirked a hairless eyebrow, "Come now, Harry. I did think you were smarter than that."

"Fuck off, Tom, you and your dementors." That was better. His resolve was returning as if it were a retired gladiator dragged back into the coliseum.

"Aha, as much as I would love to take credit for your most recent misfortunes, it seems that I am not your only enemy."

"Yes, I suppose the Ministry itself sent dementors after me then? " He wavered, he really was unpopular in society at large, was it truly possible that the Dark Lord had nothing to do with the attack?

Voldemort waved his hand as if shooing away a pesky fly, "Believe what you will, just know that if it were my ploy you would not have escaped quite so easily, and we would be having this talk face to face."

"I don't know, last time we spoke face to face I remember getting the better end of the bargain, Tom."

"I pity your ignorance, Harry Potter." Voldemort's voice oozed with haughty disdain. "If you were privy to the information that I gained that night you would understand why I was hesitant to kill you outright. However, we have gotten off topic. Would you like your question answered?"

"What the hell are you on about now?"

Voldemort spoke condescendingly slowly, "You asked if muggles were beneath a Dark Lord such as myself, and I have your answer. I am a half-blood, just as you are, Harry. I was raised by muggles, just as you were."

Harry was slightly surprised that Voldemort would state this so freely. "And that's why you murder them for fun, then?"

"I told you years ago while I was attached to that pathetic excuse for a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that there is no good and evil, only power and those that saw fit to wield it. Do you understand this truth after all these years?"

"That line is just as crazy now as it was then, what is there to understand?"

"Narrow-minded as always, Harry. Think about it a little more. We have all the time in the world after all."

Harry's mind raced, he was caught in the Dark Lord's web and was being strung along by a line of silk. "I'm not playing any of your games, if you have something to say, then say it."

Voldemort frowned in faux-disappointment, "Very well, young Harry. It is quite simple. There was a sizeable minority in our society that had held ancestral power for centuries, a power that was slipping through their fingers due to the political machinations of Albus Dumbledore. They would have done anything to keep their wealth, their precious superiority. It merely took a slight push to rally them around myself." Voldemort radiated a slimy smugness, he obviously loved boasting of his own achievements.

"What does that have to do with killing muggles, exactly?"

"Please, Harry. Do not insult your own admittedly meager intelligence. If the Pureblood Majority were inclined to disparage the common house cat I would have fueled their hatred and led a culling of every tabby, calico, and tomcat in the British Isles to the same effect."

There was a hint of a smirk on his face as he lectured, "I played them, took advantage of their prejudice while convincing those fools that their subservience was a strength. There is only power, and those willing to wield it. Do you understand?

Harry swallowed. The monster before him had no regard for human life, no moral foundation, no real aspirations other than to dominate. Harry's parents, and countless others on both sides of the war, had died merely because they were pawns in a giant game of conquest.

"You're sick, Tom. Don't you have loyalty to anyone on your own side? Malfoy? Crabbe and Goyle? Those that have died for you?"

"Naïve boy. They use me just as I use them. They are not rewarded by my loyalty; they gain the freedom to live the way they wish as they hide in the shadow of my cloak. What is more, in another century they will be dead and I will endure, their lives and causes forgotten while my power remains. I owe them nothing."

A fury raged in Harry that he had not known he had possessed. It was one thing to know he was fighting a powerful bigot with a simple agenda. This… This was something else entirely. This was combating a toxic, corrosive virus. For every move made to contain it, it would merely burn through its boundaries and adapt, leaving nothing but death in its wake. The only way to stop it would be to eradicate it entirely at the source.

"Why tell me all of this? Is this some ridiculous attempt to woo me to your side? I told you in the graveyard, there's no chance of me joining the monster who killed my parents."

Voldemort paused in contemplation, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the top of his bald head. "No, though that option remains open to you. We could accomplish a great deal together, and by the end of our conversation, you will see why I wish for you to serve me. It would indeed make many things a great deal simpler." His voice was tinged with a peculiar ghost of humanity, "However, I tell you the truth because I sometimes tire of putting up with the simpletons I command; it is a pleasure to speak freely."

Harry shook his head and spoke in a hoarse, dry rumble. "I'll kill you, Tom. If not me, then someone else will rise up. You talk as if the world will just allow you to dominate it, but it will always put something in your path. And even then, you will die eventually. What then? Does it please you knowing that you'll leave the earth in ashes? What the fuck is your endgame here?" By the end, he could not repress his shouts, and for the first time, the mists of his mind had lightened and began to glow cherry-red.

A vile grin cursed Voldemort's features, his scarlet eyes drinking in the hatred dominating their surroundings. "We will get to that in a bit, young Harry. Rest assured, you will understand by the end of our time together. For now, just know that I do not make short-sighted moves in this game, and even my fail-safes have fail-safes."

He paused, revelling in his own enigmatic presence as Harry steamed. He raised his hand and dragged a single finger across his own cheek caressingly, pausing in contemplation.

Suddenly he spoke. "My dear boy, what do you know of my diary?"

Harry was thrown by the change in subject. How much longer would he have to endure the presence of this madman?

"Our time together here is not infinite, though in another sense, it is." He paused, enjoying the confusion that his words had wrought. "No matter, I have been kind so far but I assure you that I could make this experience far less enjoyable for you if you don't play along. Indeed, I could tear through your mind and leave you with all the faculties of a gasping fish flopping on the shore."

"Then why don't you?" There was defiance in his question but a morbid curiosity as well.

"We'll get to that later, Harry. Come now, answer the question."

Harry weighed his options. Part of him wanted to tell the Dark Lord to piss off, but what did he have to gain in this instance? He was truly trapped here, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Voldemort did not want him dead just yet. If he could escape with his mind intact he could fight another day.

"In my second year Lucius Malfoy snuck your diary into Hogwarts in the hands of Ginny Weasley. It possessed her and forced her to open the Chamber of Secrets. I destroyed your shade and your basilisk before anyone else was killed."

For the first time, Voldemort lost his poise for a moment at the mention of Draco's father, and his eyes blazed before schooling his face in an icy mask.

"You say you destroyed my shade. How did a schoolboy such as yourself accomplish this?"

Harry grinned coldly, pride welling up in his chest at Voldemort's reaction. "I stabbed it with a fang from your basilisk."

The Dark Lord's expression remained glacially solid, but his mocking air had been replaced by a frigid fury that trembled like an avalanche held back by a straining levy.

Despite the change, he spoke evenly, "Blessed by lady luck, indeed, Harry Potter. No matter. You have graciously informed me that one of my servants is in need of my attention, and for that you have my thanks."

Despite his current situation, Harry could not help but feel a dark satisfaction that Lucius Malfoy would finally atone for his actions. That vengeance would come at the hands of the very master he served was a bit of poetic justice as well.

Voldemort continued, "My diary is quite relevant to why I have joined you here today, young Harry. If you would humor me for a moment, I would like to tell you a story." The tension wrought from his earlier revelation had dissipated and he slowly regained his theatric flair as he spoke.

"As much as I would love to never hear your voice again, I don't have much choice in the matter, do I?"

"No. You don't." The Dark Lord's mocking tone returned for a moment before he began with the grandiosity of a bard of old.

"As you may know I grew up in a muggle orphanage at the height of tensions between the world wars. In fact, the bombings of Britain began in the summer of my fourth year of Hogwarts, and there were many nights that I lay awake listening to the explosions shake the earth. I resolved then that I would not have my life cut short by a foolish act of chance."

"Most of the muggle children I grew up with were beneath my contempt; in our particular circumstances, weakness is akin to blood in shark-infested waters, and my oddities were seen as such a weakness. This was before I gained the power to show them the errors of their ways, but for the first few years, there was only one who I could call a true acquaintance."

Despite himself, Harry found himself empathizing with Voldemort for a brief moment before pushing that feeling down. The Dursleys had ensured that his childhood had been awful as well, yet he had made the choice to follow a righteous path, and that separated him from the monster before him.

The Dark Lord continued, "William Williams, or as he was known to us, Billy Twice. He had once been preyed upon like myself, but a growth spurt gave him the means to become feared by the predators. He was the first to show me that power was ripe for the taking if you know your own advantages to leverage."

"He protected you? You were friends?" Harry could not imagine Lord Voldemort being vulnerable or driven by friendship in the slightest, but a young Tom Riddle?

Voldemort nodded, almost looking human if it weren't for the serpentine jerkiness of the motion. "For many years, Billy Twice was the reason I did not have my food stolen, my clothes sullied, or my bed desecrated. I confided in him my desire to make the other children pay, and he understood, for he had once been like me. When I grew older, he was my partner in crime and together we subjected the others under our heels, just as it should have been. It was my first taste of what would become my drug of choice."

"Not that this isn't interesting, but is there a fucking point to any of this?" Harry was convinced that the Dark Lord just liked to hear himself talk.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and pain struck Harry's existence like a sledgehammer. His vision blurred and the mists shrieked in echoes of his agony, yet it was a sharp pain that did not linger, merely a warning. Nothing like the existential torture of the Cruciatus curse at any length.

Voldemort spoke in a foreboding whisper, "Hold your tongue, Harry Potter. I have your delicate mind coiled in the palm of my hand. It would be so simple to crush it in my fist. Understood?"

Harry forced his humiliation down in the name of self-preservation, reminding himself that he was at the Dark Lord's mercy. I have to live through this. I have to see Ron and Hermione again.

"That's a good boy, Potter. Do it for your friends." Lord Voldemort glowered in victory, a wicked soul-baring grin on his face. However, this expression soon melted into his previous façade of a simple storyteller before he continued.

"Billy Twice left the orphanage when I was ten years old, and I was left to rule alone. When I began attending Hogwarts, I was again the outcast, yet by this time I knew who I was. I was merely a king waiting to take his throne, and none who crossed me ever did so twice. It was easy to fool the professors with what they wanted to see- a quiet, respectful, brilliant young wizard, but I made sure that my housemates knew that I could crush them at will. I was quite the politician, young Harry."

This was a young Voldemort that Harry had imagined, and he could even see the vestiges of the Dark Lord's former scholarly persona.

"Now here, Harry, is where the importance of the diary comes into play. By my sixth year, I had learned of a particular ritual that would suit my purposes quite well, and as with all rituals, it required a price." Voldemort paused, and he seemed to gather all his inner malice and used it to fuel a mad grin. "Murder."

Harry's mind was filled with the echoes of a ghostly wail, "Moaning Myrtle," he murmured.

Voldemort's grin widened, "The very same. However, I encountered a conundrum. You see this ritual required the foulest of human acts in order to split my soul. Unfortunately for myself, my mind remained unshaken by the murder of that insignificant little girl and my first attempt at the ritual failed. Thus, I needed a target that hit a bit closer to home."

It spoke volumes that even at sixteen years old Tom Riddle had not been disturbed in the slightest by the murder of an innocent teenage girl. "Billy Twice, then." Harry felt sick.

"Indeed. We had kept in touch throughout the years, it was a simple thing to arrange a visit. He was quite happy to see me when I arrived at his doorstep that summer. His wife was quite lovely as well, and Billy was so excited to name me his expected child's godfather." Voldemort's voice dropped to a thoughtful croon, "Sometimes I wonder what could have been, Harry."

He paused before glee erupted from him, he cackled as he spoke, "But then I remember the animal satisfaction of snuffing out his existence out while his wife watched. I remember her screams, Harry, how they drowned out the cries of the remnants of my weak humanity. In that moment, I cemented my future as the Lord of this world!"

"My diary was the first step of my legacy," Harry felt his very being tremble as insane crimson eyes bore him down. "And you, my dear boy, are part of that legacy as well."

Harry could not put two thoughts together, but the blackest dread he had ever experienced began to settle upon his subconscious. There was something very wrong.

"I split my soul with an act most vile, Harry, and I sealed it in my diary. While it existed, I could not die, for a piece of me would always remain on this plane of reality."

"But I destroyed it…"

"Indeed, you did. But I crafted more Harry. Many more. And I even created one that I had not intended, one that I knew nothing of until that fateful night of my resurrection."

Harry could feel his very being pulled in twain once again, an echo of that night in the graveyard. His bravado, his courage had all but fled as he followed the logic of the Dark Lord's statements. Yet he would not accept. Could not accept.

Voldemort reached out and trailed his lithe, long fingers appreciatively through the mists of Harry's mind. "I touched your face that night, Harry, and I felt what I feel right now. Can you guess, my dear boy."

"N-no… I… Please. No." He knew. His mind raced with possibilities, could the Dark Lord be lying or mistaken? No, everything rang true, and a puzzle piece slid into piece that made his experiences in the magical world make sense. The world would swallow him now, how could it possibly be true?

Voldemort cackled once more and levelled him with an odd look of possession. "I sensed myself, Harry. You contain a sliver of my soul, and while you live, you ensure my immortality. You ensure my victory, Harry Potter!"

No.

NO

It was simply too much. The strains of the previous month, the death of two of his friends, this whole horrifyingly surreal conversation- something broke inside Harry Potter.

The visage of Voldemort faded, and Harry stared into a dark abyssal void, one that many unlucky souls who have reached total mental exhaustion encounter.

It called to him.

Give up hope.

Let go.

Sink.

It was tempting beyond belief, what other choice did he have? He could finally rest. He could sleep.

He reached out, taking a step towards the unknown. But that was the final step he took.

Hermione. A spark.

Ron. A flame.

The Weasleys. Sirius. Dumbledore. Warmth was returning.

Gryffindor, Viktor, Fleur. He turned back from the void, a tense fury building.

Cedric… Jim… Dad… Mum… His vision returned, and Voldemort stood in his path as an inferno erupted, his mind flashing, lightning arcing and fire bearing down on the intruder in his mind as he unleashed his wrath.

"GET OUT!"

Voldemort's smug grin faltered as he visibly braced himself, then Harry's fury was upon him. A mighty clash of opposing forces reverberated throughout Harry's mindscape and the mists turned to smoke that obscured Harry's view of the Dark Lord.

Had he succeeded? He was reminded of his gambit in the graveyard, and he knew the answer before it was confirmed.

The smoke cleared, and indeed, Voldemort remained. "Temper, temper, Harry." Despite his mocking tone, he was visibly disheveled and there was a heaviness to his breathing. "That was an admirable effort, yet I'd expect nothing less from my host."

"I will get you out of my head, Tom. You and your fucking parasite."

"Then you will die by your own hand! That is the only way! Do you not see the totality of my victory? You have no options, Harry Potter!"

There was a tiny glimmer of hope and Harry grasped it as a starving man would treasure a morsel of bread. "Dumbledore will find a way." It seemed as his mindscape was brightening as well, was someone calling his name?

Voldemort scoffed, "Dumbledore has not delved into the powerful magics that I have, he has no knowledge that will help you. I-" Voldemort's head turned upwards and Harry followed his gaze.

Light was filtering down through the depths of his strange mindscape and he could hear the echoes of his own name being called out again through the haze. Suddenly, Voldemort's form began to blur.

"It seems that our time together is coming to an end, Harry. I trust you have enjoyed yourself as much as I have?"

"You won't win, Tom. You will fail just as you have every other time we've faced each other."

The Dark Lord's Cheshire grin was the final part of him to disappear, yet his final words echoed in his mind. "I have already won my little host; you are simply too foolish to admit defeat. Do take care of my soul, young Harry."

Harry.

Harry!

XXX

Alright, this has been a showcase for our big bad, the next few chapters are going to be more Harry-centric. I appreciate all your follows, faves, and comments, and for those who have questions, the only thing I'll say is that many of those questions won't be answered any time soon! So in the meantime, keep speculating, keep critiquing, I love seeing what impressions people are getting from what I've written.

That's all for now, see you next Saturday, May 29th for Chapter 3!