"The bonds are too tight," Harry said when Phineas started tying him to the chair he had transfigured.

Phineas brushed off Harry's concern with a wave of his hand and tightened them further. "Stop complaining, Potter. It is vital that you cannot escape the room, should anything happen."

"And this isn't payback for me tying you up earlier, I'm sure."

Phineas raised his head and, with a big grin, answered, "Not all!"

A sigh. "I've given you my wand, Black," he reminded him. "Even if I could somehow escape you'd have no problem catching me."

"Let's not go this far. Plan is that nothing happens, you're to be as still as a statue." Testing his knot one last time he nodded to himself. "Well then, that should do."

Getting up, the Slytherin searched in his breast pocket before retrieving a pendulum. Putting it at eye-level, he started to swing it.

"Have you tried it on somebody before?" Harry couldn't help asking.

Eyes never leaving his pendulum, he answered, "I usually do self-hypnosis to convince myself to study more but I've never tried hypnosis on somebody else. Still, it shouldn't be that different, I think." His lips twitched, "You should be honoured, Potter. You're my first test subject.

"Well, try not to hypnotise yourself this time."

He snorted. "Believe me, I don't want anybody to find me with you all tied up. If Dumbledore finds out… Oh well, " turning his attention to Harry, he continued, "are you ready, Potter?"

"I am."

Putting the pendulum in front of Harry's face, he started swinging it. "Alright, do you see the stars on it, Potter? I want you to look at them."

Harry frowned and followed the pattern on the object. What he had thought were dots actually formed a pattern but where had he seen it before? Phineas had said something about stars, so it had to be a constellation, but which one? It was not the milky way, but it looked so familiar Harry could swear he had seen it before.

And just as the answer came to him, the room darkened and the stars on the disk grew bigger and started flickering.

The last thing Harry saw was the constellation of Leo flickering above him.

Harry fell on his back and groaned.

Last time he had been put into a trance, Harry had been standing so when his surroundings had changed he had been able to not fall. This time however he had been sitting, meaning that when the decor had changed and there was no chair nearby, Harry has had no choice but to fall on his arse.

At least he wasn't tied up anymore, that had to count for something, right?

Harry massaged his lower back and once he got up observed his surroundings, unsure if he had been sent to his parents' house this time. At first glance, Harry was standing in a rather large bedroom whose walls had been painted blue and white and where Harry could see from the window in front of him a rather large garden and an old oak tree blocking the sunlight. In the corner to his right sat a large and colourful toy box where a toy broom had been posed. What grabbed his attention however was the white crib in the middle of the room where Harry could see a Bambi plush lying within, and on the chair to its right, a book sat closed on the seat.

'The Tales of Beedle the Bard, the illustrated version' was inscribed in large, golden looping letters above the tree stump drawn on the cover.

Opening the book Harry saw a picture of a wand, a rock and some sort of cloak, but nothing of note. Yet, as he was about to close the book and put it back on the seat, he noticed something written on the book's first page.

Happy birthday to little Harry,

Hoping that he enjoys the wondrous stories of Beedle the Bard and that his parents will have as much joy in reading them to their child to help him go to sleep.

Bathilda.

Oh .

This was his bedroom, wasn't it?

He had paid little attention to it when he had been there a year ago and Voldemort had greeted him, but there was denying now that this place was his bedroom.

Looking at the room with a new eye, his throat tightened at the sight of the toy broom resting on the toy box.

Saying he remembered playing with these toys, or even the book would be a lie. The same way, this entire place and the things in it meant nothing to him. Yet, there was something about this room that made him want to scream. He should have been able to call this room his and recognize it in less than a second, he should have played with these toys, his parents should have come to this room to kiss him goodnight and read these fairytales to him. Yet this very room was nothing to him. Voldemort had taken that life from him and it would always be nothing but a mockery of everything Harry had never been allowed to have.

Cursing under his breath, Harry took one final look at the toy broom before turning in the direction of the door and leaving the bedroom, intent to face the person who had forbidden him to get this life.

Once he had closed the door, Harry started searching his pockets. Grabbing his wand, he started his investigation. Walking as silently as he could, Harry entered every room on the floor, each time believing that Voldemort would be there, waiting for him with his red eyes and cruel sneer. But after searching room after room, only to find them empty, Harry gained the certainty that Voldemort was not here, and he sighed in relief.

Of course Voldemort wasn't here. How could he ever be here anyway?

Chuckling at how paranoid he had been, he left what he believed to be his parents' bedroom. Finally noticing the stairs leading downstairs, he hesitated for a moment.

The sooner he confirmed everything was fine, he told himself, the quicker he could leave this place and put everything behind him. Harry stepped forward, his palm clammy and cold as he gripped his wand tight and descended toward the bottom.

He screamed when he noticed there was a body lying on the stairs.

At first glance, the body appeared to be his. A little older perhaps, and wearing rectangular glasses but the brown eyes seemingly staring at the ceiling were all he needed to know that it was the corpse of James Potter.

Fleeing the staircase, Harry ran to his bedroom. When Harry Potter opened the door to his bedroom however, he was greeted by the sight of Lily Potter's body lying on the floor, her emerald eyes staring at nothing.

Her eyes then turned crimson and her lips started moving. "I'm in the living room, downstairs," she said. "Come find me."

And just like that, the terror that had gripped his heart a few seconds ago was replaced with immeasurable rage.

Gripping his wand so tightly the wood cracked, Harry stormed out of the room. He flew down the stairs, over his father's corpse, intent on making Voldemort pay.

As the possessed body had said, his enemy was downstairs, in the living-room. His back turned, the dark wizard was observing the white sofa facing the window and the wand lying on it.

It would be dead easy to take him down, Harry viciously thought. One curse to the back and the most evil wizard of the century would be no more.

Before Harry had time to raise his wand however, the dark wizard started talking, his back still turned to him.

"Did you know, Potter? This wand here is your father's," he pointed at the wand on the sofa. "When the door burst open, that idiot rushed to stop me and had not even picked up his wand. Killing him was easy, too easy really. Such a stupid man, your father… Then again you're hardly better, aren't you?"

Harry fumed but didn't take the bait. Pointing his wand in the direction of the dark wizard, he considered whether he could use the killing curse on him and, hopefully, get away with it.

Voldemort glanced at Harry's wand and scoffed. "You realise that none of this is real, don't you Potter? That wand on the sofa, the sofa itself, the entire house… All of this got destroyed the night I came to kill you. What you see here is an illusion, a place our memories worked together to recreate so we can move in a background we both understand. The same can also be said to the wand you've got in your hand: you gave the real one to that Black in the real world and this? This is just something your mind conjured because you need it to feel safe and can in truth do nothing to me."

A green spell hit the wall behind him. Voldemort however paid no attention to it and grabbed the wand on the sofa. As he started caressing it with his long fingers, he mused, "Certainly we can touch what is around us, and our mind may trick us and let us believe that you are actually casting spells. However we both subconsciously know everything here is an illusion. Like falling from a building in your dreams only to wake up in your bed, all that will happen should you succeed in 'killing me' is that this simulation will break and you will go back to the real world. No, us fighting here is utterly pointless and, like that night, this wand in my hand is worthless."

And under Harry's eyes, Voldemort snapped James Potter's wand.

He then threw its remains behind him, as if it was trash. Sitting on the sofa, he made himself comfortable and finally faced Harry. "If you've been planning to duel me and somehow 'vanquish' me, then you better give up, Potter. As I informed you last time, there is no getting rid of me and I have no intention of humouring your dramatics. Knowing that, I don't honestly know what you're trying to accomplish. All we can do here is talk, so what do you think you can achieve?"

Through gritted teeth, Harry said, "Didn't you say I could come here whenever I wanted last time?"

"I changed my mind." The dark wizard sneered, "What, did you really believe you could come as you please after ignoring me an entire year? Granted, you've always preferred letting others fix your problems instead of taking actions, but that's no excuse."

It was through gritted teeth again that Harry answered, "I've not sought you out for a year. However, if you weren't lying last time that means that you've been living in my head for sixteen . So if somebody is to blame for us not talking before, I don't think it's me."

Voldemort scoffed. "It's not as if we could until recently."

"Yes, and before I asked Back to help me, the only person who could have put us in a trance was Mesmer. Do you think it would have been a good idea to show him there may be a mass murderer in my head?"

"You could have learned hypnosis and put yourself into a trance," he countered. "It would have been faster; nobody would have suspected anything and you wouldn't be in a situation where you'd be indebted to somebody like Black. Instead of doing that you've decided to waste all your time and study tea leaves."

"Had I used hypnosis on my own, I have no guarantee you wouldn't have taken this occasion to take over my body and attempt to kill Albus."

The dark wizard smirked. "Touché."

Harry had known from the start that confronting Voldemort wouldn't be easy. However, he had imagined their confrontation to involve dodging curses and not arguing over the smallest thing. Watching the dark wizard throwing the wand away and sitting on the sofa,

He had come here expecting a magical battle. Instead, he had been thrown head first into a battle of words and wits.. If the way Voldemort was behaving in his parent's house was any indication, the dark wizard wanted to make it clear that it was his domain, and that he was in complete control.

Harry didn't feel comfortable with this sort of confrontation, not one bit. However, if he wanted to find out as much as he could, Harry had no choice but to stop him from setting the pace.

Harry left his musing when Voldemort spoke again. "Ah yes, our dear Professor Dumbledore," Voldemort said, as if he was talking about the weather. Lounging on the sofa like some great, sleepy serpent he began to spin his tale, "When I realised we were sent to his past, I admit I was quite curious about the sort of person he had been. Needless to say, I was quite disappointed when I realised he wasn't as talented as I had first imagined."

Harry incredulously looked at him. "You think he isn't talented?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "I was better. Granted I've never enjoyed playing the trained monkey for some trophy I wouldn't even be allowed to take with me, but it's clear to me now that I could have done better than him at his age. It would be very easy for me to kill that arrogant boy. Very easy indeed."

"You say that now, but you weren't able to kill a baby."

Voldemort glared at him. Before the man could take control of the conversation again, Harry decided to push his luck. "What did Slytherin tell you during Halloween?"

As soon as Harry said these words, something flickered. And before Harry knew, the living-room he and Voldemort had been in vanished only to be replaced with a very different place, one much colder, more humid and smelling of sewers. And, sure enough, above them the statue of Salazar Slytherin was looking down on the two souls trespassing upon his Chamber.

Voldemort, however, pretended he hadn't noticed the change of scenery. He didn't seem all too concerned over the fact that he was now standing up, only a few feet away from Harry. "Why, did you really believe this was Slytherin who was moving that pallet?" he asked, as if nothing was amiss. "How gullible can you be, Potter?"

"You seemed to believe he was the real deal though."

In light of how the dark wizard was behaving and the apparent control he'd had until that moment, Harry knew he was onto something. For fifteen years, Harry hadn't even known that Voldemort was here, yet the second the pallet had started making that list, the wizard had utterly lost it and had started rambling about how he was going to kill everybody who had seen these words.

Considering how hard the dark wizard was pretending to be in control now when he most definitely hadn't been that night, Harry didn't know how the whole thing could have looked any more suspicious than it already was.

"Puppet, ring, book, mine, cup and crown, what do these words mean?"

"As if I'm going to tell you."

There was a finality in these words. A 'stop right here or else' threat hiding there. Still, Harry pushed further. "It must really be important for you to not say a thing. Just so you know, I'm going to find out what Slytherin's message means, and destroy these things."

And then Voldemort did something Harry had never expected.

He laughed. He laughed and it was no small thing, but a booming echo that filled the chamber from ceiling to crevice. Like the ring of a freshly shot gun, it blew forward and consumed all the air and silence before them. A hungry, all consuming laugh that barely sounded human at all.".

"You'd destroy them, Potter?" he repeated. "How would even you do that?"

Harry stared at the monster who had killed his parents, unable to believe what he was seeing. "W-Well, I guess I'd find where they are and-"

"Have you forgotten that I have yet to be born? I'm not even sure my parents exist here. Perhaps that string of words meant something but you do realize, I hope, that whatever these things are, they are definitely not here, in this time and probably won't exist for a very long time."

He gritted his teeth. "I'll go back to 1996."

He condescendingly shook his head. "And you're confident you're going to succeed because you have made great progress in bending time to your will," he mocked. "It's just a matter of days before you can go back, I'm sure."

"I-I'll tell Albus about you and what happened during Halloween and-"

"-and in case you've forgotten the last time you told him about you being a time-traveller, he immediately forgot," he interrupted. "You may want to believe this was an unfortunate accident, this sudden memory loss was too convenient in my eyes. No, something is stopping you from telling him the future. Time, Fate, this 'Higher Being' these seers are talking about… Something or somebody doesn't want him to know. And if you cannot tell him about the future, it will be impossible for you to tell him about me, even less what this 'Salazar' said."

Harry's brain stopped.

That just couldn't be possible. Voldemort had to be lying. There was no reason Harry couldn't tell Dumbledore he was a time-traveller, right?

"It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not," he remarked, feigning disinterest. "It's not as if it's going to change anything about your current situation. Still, if I'm right this seer will attempt to stop you should you try to spill the beans again."

He gave him a puzzled look. "Mesmer? Why would he-"

Voldemort looked at him as if he was a very dumb child. "Do you not remember how he stopped you from speaking with Dumbledore about your great 'project to bring you home' last year? He stopped you then and I have little doubt he will do it again should you try your luck. Do you remember what he asked when you informed him how Dumbledore had known all along?"

You didn't happen to tell him you were from the future on the ninth of September, did you?

"Those are not the words of a man who knows nothing, they are the words of someone who knows that something happened on a specific day and was led to believe it that it could be connected to why your so-great plan of spilling all you know to Dumbledore failed."

Harry felt like a bludger had just hit him in the face. "M-Maybe he just knew Albus had an accident that day and-"

"-and Mesmer never taught Dumbledore a thing. The man has no reason whatsoever to be interested in him or know what last project of his failed. Furthermore, if Dumbledore has had an accident grave enough for him to know, you should have heard about it a long time ago but nothing was amiss, wasn't it? Admit it, Potter, for some reason you are unable to tell Dumbledore what you know, meaning that you're unable to hurt me in any way."

Harry tightened his fists. "You're wrong."

"I'm most definitely right. My other self is in our time and you are here, in the past. Unless you live long enough to reach 116, your paths will never cross again. Worse, if they ever do you'd most certainly be a senile old fool by then. A stupid old man utterly unable to fight me and that I'd kill in a minute after I got a good laugh. There is nothing you can realistically do now but to play Quidditch. It's alright though, you're allowed to fool around and spend the rest of your life here. I mean," he smiled, "it's not as if there's a prophecy telling you ought to be the one destined to vanquish me, am I right?"

Harry flinched.

The prophecy. With everything that had happened, Harry had almost forgotten about it. If he couldn't go back to 1996, who would take care of Voldemort? What would happen if the prophecy should not come to pass?

The thought that him being here meant that Voldemort had automatically won the war was so unbearable he hissed, "I can change the past and make sure you never exist."

He let out a dark, if not slightly amused chuckle. "How? Are you planning to kill my grandparents? You? Not only don't you know where they live-"

"You brought me to the place your father was buried, remember?" he fought back.

"So you're going to kill an innocent muggle to stop me, is that what you're saying? For the Greater Good?" he mocked. "I know you, Potter. I know you don't have it in you and that you're bluffing."

"Your maternal grandparents-"

"Good luck finding them then, because my relatives stopped going to Hogwarts when Slytherin left the school and have in many ways left this filthy Wizarding world. It took me years to find what happened to his relatives and with how effective you've been my younger self would have had time to be born and kill his relatives before you could find their location. No, considering when and where you are, you cannot hurt me in any possible way."

Harry fumed.

That monster had to pay. There had to be a way for Harry to make him pay. Something Harry could do that'd hurt him and his plans. Something Voldemort had missed that would show him he wasn't as out of the game as he wanted him to believe and that he should have never used his parents' face against him.

That's when the solution came to him. So obvious Harry didn't know how he hadn't thought about it before.

Glancing at the statue of Salazar Slytherin behind Voldemort, he smirked. "Oh really? Are you really sure there is nothing I can do that could hurt you, Tom?"

Scowling at the mention of his real name, he hissed, "Certain."

"What about this though?"

Voldemort turned in the direction Harry was pointing. Looking at his ancestor's face, he said, "What about it, Potter?"

"The basilisk, it is already here, isn't it? It's been waiting for the heir to come and order him to kill muggleborns. But what if , for some reason, when the heir comes to the Chamber he is only greeted by the sight of its body?"

Voldemort glared down at him. "You do that, and you will undoubtedly change history. I thought you didn't want that, or was I wrong? Should you kill it, are you really sure that your friend won't be erased from existence?"

For a second Harry hesitated. Because yes, Harry would definitely change history. However, if this was to hurt Voldemort, Harry was willing to take that risk.

Why, Voldemort was most probably trying to manipulate him so he could keep his pet snake.

Voldemort was saying something but Harry wasn't listening to him anymore. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the room he was in, the rope on his arms and legs that Phineas had tied too strongly. Soon enough, the room seemed to become warmer, the disgusting smell of sewers disappeared and soon enough, Harry felt pain where Phineas had put the rope.

When he opened his eyes again, the Slytherin was warily looking at him.

"So you're back. How was it?"

Harry tried a shrug and failed. "Still me."

"Not planning on setting a monster on muggleborns, are you?"

"Nah."

Harry was going to kill it.

Again.