Embracing His True Self
Chapter 8
Musings, anger and Prophecies
Harry sighed softly as he walked out of the bedroom and ambled towards the library, his thoughts chaotic. He was still shocked at what he'd found out, that he was a Horcrux, but it made a lot of things make sense. All the tests... it had been Dumbledore's way of trying to get him to defeat Voldemort, or at least trying to get Voldemort to kill him, and with it the piece of his own soul that was currently inside Harry. Either way, Dumbedore hadn't cared in the slightest what happened to Harry, and it had made him furious. All those years of playing by his rules just to survive…and that was what Dumbledore had wanted all along. It made him long to wrap his hands around the old fool's neck and rip his head from his insufferably smug person. He didn't like the thought that he had been played, but considering how old Dumbledore was… he was just a novice at the game.
He'd gone from one prison to another all his life; would he ever be free to do as he wished? He did acknowledge that his situation could be worse; just because he was a Horcrux, it didn't mean Voldemort had to let him roam around this place, but he did. He was getting fed here, something he didn't get at the Dursleys'. Voldemort really didn't need to give him all this freedom, so why do it? Just because he didn't want to kill him anymore? Life was bloody odd, that much was certain. No, Tom was trying to get him on his side, he realized; after all, keeping someone locked up only worked for so long, before they got away or were rescued. You were actually better off getting them on your side, that way they would fight to remain where they were, and wouldn't try to escape. Would Voldemort do that? With only a minuscule chance of it succeeding? It just didn't sound like Voldemort, but what did he really know?
It was a very good question; Harry wondered to himself as he lifted the book on the sacred lines off the shelf, and sat down on the window sill. It was a comfortable seat; it had predictable green padding around it. What did he truly know about Voldemort, other than his history? And of course, what had been fed to him by Dumbledore over the years, as well as what was in the newspapers. Those were hardly the most reliable of sources, but Voldemort himself admitted to wanting to kill all Muggles. Why? He also wanted to kill Muggle-Born wizards and witches; again, why? He was adamant about it, but he'd never given him a reason so far.
Harry scoffed at his own thoughts. Why did he want to kill Muggles; as if that was a hard one. He knew he couldn't possibly be the only Muggle-raised wizard or witch to be abused by their Muggle relatives. Apparently even being abandoned caused you to turn into the Darkest Wizard the world had ever seen.
Harry's head jerked up when he heard the flapping of wings. 'Hedwig!' Harry thought, but his heart was dismayed when he realized that, no, it wasn't his faithful owl companion. It was a tawny brown owl, like the ones you usually see at Post office, although a few of the students in the school had them also. His hand went to the window latch and he paused briefly; would he even be able to open it without the bracelet on his leg reacting? Knowing Voldemort, it would be something incredibly painful. It was obvious Voldemort wouldn't let him get out, not that he wanted to chance it. He had absolutely nowhere to go... and he would never crawl back to Dumbledore; the thought turned his stomach.
Well, he'd never been a coward before; he wasn't about to start now. He opened the window and allowed the owl to come in. It hooted much like Hedwig did when she was delivering something to him... although Hedwig didn't hoot, she churred. It flew onto his leg, causing Harry to grin; he hoped Hedwig was okay wherever she was, and was able to hunt. If anything happened to her…then there would be hell to pay. Removing the string around the bird's leg, he absently stroked its head and neck; they loved it when you did it. Although, he had met his share of owls that loathed being touched by anyone other than their owner.
Then just like that the owl took flight, flying back out the window and away until it was nothing but a blot on the horizon. He loved flying; it made him feel free, as free as that owl had looked. He always hoped he was some sort of Animagus that had wings, so he could fly without a broom. This library had books…there was probably one on Animagi? And from what he knew, you didn't need a wand to transform. He didn't have anything else to do, though, so why not?
Opening the paper his eyebrows shot up, as the headlines blazed in front of him.
Boy-Who-Lived Missing - Running away from the lies?
Harry's nostrils flared as he read the article, then he squashed the newspaper as he tried to keep his cool. Merlin, he could fucking kill Rita Skeeter, the lying, manipulative, disgusting bitch. It didn't surprise him that the Ministry were all too happy to go along with the lies, making him seem even more deluded and a murderer to boot. Dumbledore had apparently 'declined to comment' after being 'unavailable' for the past twenty-four hours. Of course he would be; by the looks of things, the shit had hit the fan. Was Dumbledore's 'Order' out looking for him? Fuck knows who the hell was in the Order, other than Sirius; probably Remus, Moody, oh, and the Weasleys, maybe even professor McGonagall… Not to forget Snape, if he was a spy ― but the spy for who was the big question.
"Now what has happened to cause the ire of Harry Potter?" Voldemort drawled, staring at the boy from the door. The band had alerted him to the window being opened; he had assumed the boy was trying to leave so he'd begun to make his way to the library. There had been nothing further but a pang of heartache from the bond, then pure unadulterated hatred scalded him. Hatred he understood, he revelled in it, really; then he saw the boy sitting with the paper. Now, the paper had worked in his favour since his return, making Dumbledore out to be a meddlesome old insane fool. It had always amused him, but he knew it wouldn't last. They would be praising the old man's name before long; it made his lips curl in disgust.
"Why did you decide not to be Tom Riddle any more, then change your name to Voldemort only to make everyone too scared to say it? Doesn't it kind of defeat the purpose of the name change?" Harry asked, staring at Voldemort blankly. Not that it was easy to think of him as Voldemort any more, with the way he looked now. It just reminded him of 'Tom' in the chamber of secrets; Voldemort was the face on the back of Quirrell's head, the snake-faced bastard he'd faced at the end of the tournament. Tom…Tom was the seventeen-year-old who'd tried to kill him with a sixty-foot basilisk. A boy who had been exactly like him, was exactly like him, but who'd chosen to hide behind a created persona instead.
"Evidently not everyone is too scared to speak it," Voldemort said, irritated. He did not owe the boy an answer to that question, and so elected not to give one. He hated being called Tom, or reminded of his Muggle name, and the boy continued to bring it up; why he didn't curse him into next week he didn't know. It wouldn't harm his Horcrux; after all, he'd put him under the Cruciatus Curse before.
Harry shrugged his shoulders, "I find it ridiculous, that's all. It took Hagrid three tries to actually say the name loud enough for me to hear: You-Know-Who, and it's pathetic. He didn't deserve what you did to him."
A derisive snort left Voldemort's mouth. "I blamed him falsely, yes, but the events that transpired afterwards were solely Headmaster Dippet's choices. If that idiot couldn't tell the difference between something that petrified the students and something that could only bite, that is not my problem." Then he added, "And I am to believe you wouldn't have done the exactly same thing if the roles had been reversed?" knowing full well the boy would have done so. He would have killed his own relatives if he knew it would have enabled him to stay at Hogwarts. The boy could lie to his heart's content, but he had seen the darkest recesses of Harry's mind, he knew his darkest dreams and desires.
Harry's jaw almost dropped. Well, he hadn't said that when he was in the diary the last time. When you thought about it…it made him feel like an idiot. Frowning, he began to think about it. From what he could see when Cedric fell, he did look petrified like Mrs. Norris; if the two conditions looked so much alike, how could they distinguish the difference between a killing curse and a petrification? For that matter, how could they expel Hagrid without a shred of evidence, even if the Head boy had said something? Then again, when had the wizarding world ever needed proof before they condemned anyone? he thought with savage disgust. "When has the wizarding world ever needed proof before condemning anyone?" he sneered his own thoughts aloud.
Would he have done the same thing? Well, the only reason he'd gone on those crazy adventures was to keep Hogwarts open. If there had been no other alternative…he would have. That made him feel like a terrible person, but he would have done anything to stay away from the Dursleys. It was survival of the fittest; you did what you had to do.
"Well, would you have?" Voldemort pressed, his ruby eyes twinkling in vindictive pleasure. He knew what the boy would do, whether he would admit it or not. He took great delight in bringing out people's baser, animal selves, making them acknowledge what normal society would condemn them for. Apparently, though, he'd brought it a bit too far out with Bellatrix; he would need to rein her in. If such a thing was even possible at this point; he would just have to have the damage assessed by his healer.
Harry didn't rise to the bait; he just gave Voldemort his best blank stare. He knew that look well, and he didn't respond to it anymore; Vernon usually got that look in his eyes when he screwed up. Of course, it had been a long time since that had happened; instead his uncle just pounced on him for half-assed excuses. Harry shook off his thoughts, determined not to dwell on them; it wasn't like Vernon could hurt him here. No, here he had to watch his back from every single Death Eater…and Voldemort. Just because he'd left him alone until now, it didn't mean things would stay that way. He might just be lulling him into a false sense of security, although he wasn't sure if he believed that. Voldemort liked to play games, but not these kind of mind games.
"Breakfast is ready, take your potions," Voldemort snapped, disgruntled. The boy was more Slytherin than he had anticipated, which would mean getting through to him would be more difficult. When he realized how he'd sounded, he added in a silky, threatening tone, "Ignore it, and you will wish you hadn't." Then he turned around and stalked through to the dining hall that he had anticipated using as a meeting room between him and his Death Eaters.
Harry knew better than to think Voldemort wouldn't follow through on his threats, which probably just made him want to defy them all the more. Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Narrowing them to get a better look, his heart jumped into his throat. It was fucking Pettigrew! Now he was worse than pissed off. Hearing the chittering he'd been familiar with for three years made him grind his teeth. Moving into action he ran towards the door, timing it perfectly, and then he just happened to accidentally stand on the rat.
An unholy squeak turned abruptly into a scream of agony as Peter Pettigrew turned back into his human form once more.
"Potter!" Voldemort hissed, his eyes gleaming; he glanced down at Pettigrew before dismissing him.
"What?" Harry responded, staring at his captor with exaggerated innocence while making sure there was no mistaking that he had in fact actually meant to do it.
Voldemort glared at Harry for his impudence, but he had bigger things he needed seeing to than Pettigrew being healed.
"It's hardly my fault, he shouldn't be sneaking around spying," Harry stated, the obvious implication behind it laid bare for them all to hear. Glancing at Pettigrew, he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his emotions in check. If he thought he could get away with it, he would strangle the rat where he lay still crying in pain. He felt that Pettigrew was pathetic, and he allowed that emotion to show through. Not that he could have stopped it, really.
Even without a wand the boy was able to cause havoc; he should have known. Feeling his true emotions while observing the boy, he realized Potter was able to conceal his feelings extremely well. Considering he had been able to try and eject him from his mind, it shouldn't have surprised him. He had already admitted to himself that the boy would be good at Occlumency and Legilimency. "Get over here," he hissed in warning. "Now," he added when the boy had the audacity to glare at him.
Harry fought with himself for a few seconds before the smell of the breakfast did it for him. Shrugging his shoulders he stepped over Pettigrew; looking down at him, he smirked in a way that said he would be doing it again, the first chance he got. If he was stuck here, he might as well have some fun. Part of him did wonder how far he could push Voldemort before he did something in retaliation. Although, he did get the feeling Voldemort couldn't care less about Pettigrew. Or would he be like that no matter what he did? Hmm... well, he'd consider that a personal challenge.
"Leave us!" Voldemort demanded of Pettigrew.
Staring at the potions, Harry could scarcely believe this was happening… he had been kidnapped by Voldemort, kept alive, allowed to roam, was being given potions, and no matter what he did ― Voldemort didn't seem to care. It was fun pushing his buttons but he only went so far. It had definitely been more fun to get Pettigrew back though; he would need to do it again very soon. He heard the wizard (if he could be called that, really) whimpering some more as he practically crawled out of the room, terrified of what Voldemort would do if he didn't go.
"Stay here," Voldemort ordered before he was out of the room, locking the door behind him. He'd planned it that way; he couldn't let Potter have a free rein when he wasn't there to stop him. It was becoming apparent that he wouldn't be able to leave him with Pettigrew, otherwise he would come back to find one of them dead. He would put all his money on Potter coming out on top; as much as it turned his stomach to admit it. The boy had a knack for getting out of the most damning situations intact. Even when he wasn't trying to kill him, it still irked him something rotten.
Harry stood up and moved towards the door and tried to open it; it wouldn't budge, unsurprisingly. Smacking his fist against it, he swore under his breath before wandering towards the windows and looking out, but he was unable to see anything. Grumbling under his breath, he sat back down and began eating hungrily. His stomach was getting used to three meals a day now. He was recovering much quicker with the potion; if he got out of here and into a situation like that again, he would need to remember to take a nutrition potion. His own thoughts made him laugh; there was no way he was going to get out of here. Voldemort had made sure of that, he wasn't sure how many times he'd tried to remove the bracelet with no success.
'What was he up to? Who was here?' Harry wondered, 'And why didn't he want him seen? Pettigrew knew, and he was the weakest link as far as Harry was concerned. Then again, he knew Pettigrew rarely left Voldemort's side, so there wasn't much chance of someone finding out from the rat. What would Dumbledore do if he knew he was here? Harry wondered, as he scarfed down his breakfast as quickly as possible. Kill him in hopes of destroying the Horcrux, now that he was, what? Expendable? Unreliable? Terrified that he would join Voldemort for real? Did Dumbledore even consider it a possibility? Had he played his part so well that Dumbledore would have decided not to kill him? No, a big resounding no. What would Sirius think? Would he side with Dumbledore and let him be killed if he learned the truth?
Once he finished his breakfast, he moved back over to the window, taking his book with him. He wanted to see who was here, if anyone was; but he didn't see any other reason for locking him in this room. Opening the book, he began to read about the sacred lines from a pureblood's point of view. The smugness literally dripped from every word on the page; admittedly, the author did write why they were so important. From what he could gather and understand, it was like a hierarchy, with the sacred lines at the very top. They were powerful, wealthy, and had a big influence on the Wizengamot and the Hogwarts council, which was a set of twelve governors at the moment. Apparently there were supposed to be more. What was not explained was how they were important on the Wizengamot…wasn't that just a bunch of wizards who decided on whether a Witch or Wizard was guilty and sent them to Azkaban?
He was curious; he would need to see if he could find a book on the Wizengamot as soon as he could get out of this room. His brain was beginning to get cramped with all this new information he was trying to digest. It was like he was finally turning into Hermione, but the information he was absorbing was vital in understanding the Death Eaters… maybe he might be able to stop the mindless killing, if nothing else. Anything he could do was a good thing, since apparently he wasn't going to be able to do much else. He'd already proven that Muggle-born students were just descendants from some pureblood family whose magic had died out. Surely Voldemort wouldn't be able to dismiss the information? The look on his face had been hilarious; what couldn't be denied was that his mother hadn't been the 'Mudblood' he'd spat at her.
What would his mum think right now? She'd just wanted him to live; this was him, living whether he liked it or not. It was better than looking over his shoulder wondering when Voldemort would strike. Of course…the same still applied, he apparently just didn't want to kill him. Did it really matter what they thought? The part that wanted his parents' approval so badly screamed yes, but the more realistic side, the Slytherin side, if you would, knew they were gone. Living his life to please them would just make him miserable. He would have been different if he'd been raised by them, but he hadn't; he'd been given to abusive sons of bitches who had taken delight in trying to squash the magic out of him... as if such a thing was possible. Harry believed they had made him more powerful, more aware of his magic, even if he hadn't realized consciously what it was.
Realizing he wasn't going to be out of here any time soon, he began to read the rest of the book.
Severus accurately Apparated exactly three miles east of his current location and muttered the locating spell, anchoring it by using Harry's name. When his wand remained still, he wanted to curse nastily, but he had run out of curses thirty-nine locations ago. It seemed impossible, but with all the Apparating he had done…he'd truly been at a loss for words, and had begun repeating ones he'd already used. He sighed tiredly; he'd been at this all night; it was much safer doing it at night. Harry would be less likely to be on the move, and he wouldn't accidentally bump into anyone.
Determined not to give in, he Apparated once more, a further three miles east of his current location and once more used the spell. He wasn't one to give up easily, but even this was lowering his spirits. He had been all over London, Crawley, Worthing, Brighton and Eastbourne, and Hastings.
Harry couldn't have figured out how to take the trace off, so the spell should have worked if he was in the area. Which he knew the boy wasn't; the spell was never wrong. Harry couldn't have gotten that far, surely? Unless of course he had taken the train somewhere else, and actually was out of the country. It was becoming glaringly obvious that he wasn't going to be able to find him using this means. That meant he might have to resort to other… darker methods. To do so would require him to have something of Harry's, preferably something with body fluid on it, like spit, sweat, or blood.
There was nothing at Hogwarts that could help with that, and then suddenly an idea bloomed. His heart twisted; he didn't like the thought of going back there…but if it could potentially help him find Harry, then needs must. It was a long shot, he had to admit it, but nonetheless Severus Apparated straight into the condemned building at Godric's Hollow… where Lily had breathed her last.
Severus swallowed thickly, remembering the last time he was here very vividly. Only this time there were no bodies; they were buried in the cemetery not far from here. All he needed was a toy Harry had used ―and chewed― when he was a baby. It would still work with the potion; despite the fact so many years had gone by, the saliva would give him Harry's exact location.
Moving up stairs, he took his time, not touching anything as he did so. The place was quite frankly disgusting; weeds and everything were growing inside of this house that Lily probably had adored. The door was blown off its hinges, still as he remembered it. He didn't understand how Harry had survived the roof falling in on him like that, coming out with only a scratch; it was unbelievable. The crib was half intact; his eyes narrowed in confusion when he saw the crib mattress covered in old blood. He closed his eyes, flashing back to the night as he remembered it. There had been nothing there, what had caused Harry to lose so much blood AFTER the attack? Was it even Harry's blood? But there hadn't been anyone else there.
Something had happened…but what? Shaking off his thoughts, he resolved that he would find out later…much later, if it was possible. He probably wouldn't be able to let the puzzle rest until he had his answer, either. Using his wand, he cut out a large square chunk of the mattress and shrunk it before placing it inside a bag. Then he narrowed his eyes once more and began looking around for something... anything, really, just in case it wasn't Harry's blood. He always felt the need for a backup plan if things didn't work out well.
He found a cuddly toy snitch, a typical thing for babies to have; levitating that, he placed it into another bag he had with him. He never went anywhere without the assortment of items he usually used for collecting potion ingredients. The bags were usually for gathering stuff like Gillyweed, that needed to be kept in water, to keep it fresh. He never expected to be using them for this. Slipping the bags into his pocket he quickly Apparated away, not wishing to remain in there a second longer. Not only did it bring up bad memories, the building was very unstable.
Of course he Apparated into Spinners End, someplace that was only just slightly better than where he had been. At least in his opinion, but it was habitable, so he couldn't complain too much. Add to the fact that it actually had a safe foundation and a roof for over his head, it was definitely much better. He swiftly made his way to the lab, ignoring the potions he had already bubbling away; he would be alerted a few minutes before anything needed to be added to one of those.
If the Ministry were to see what he was brewing…he would be in Azkaban before he could deny all knowledge. He seriously doubted the Dark Lord would help him out of that one. He would be useless as a spy; of course, he could just claim to Albus that he had been forced to brew the potions…and Dumbledore, too desperate to risk losing his spy, would be all too eager to make the problem go away.
Grabbing an unused but clean cauldron, he poured water from his wand into it with a quick 'Aguamenti' before spelling flames under it and quickly got to work. It would take less than three hours for the potion to be complete. The rest was a waiting game to see if he would find Harry with anything he'd brought with him. He had no idea if it would really work; it should in theory, but theory wasn't real life.
True to his thoughts, it took less than three hours, in fact only two hours and fifteen minutes for three of the potions to be complete. He hadn't just completed a single potion, but three. He couldn't risk the toy snitch he'd taken from Godric's Hollow not working; although he had a feeling if the toy snitch didn't work the blood wouldn't either. Once the blood was immersed in the potion it would become wet, and there should be enough DNA in it to guide him towards Harry Potter. The reason he was using the saliva first, was for one sole reason - he didn't want the potion taking him towards the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord had Harry's magic, which meant it might not even work, he could be stretched both ways and end up splinched or guided towards both the Dark Lord and Harry. Waving his wand he extinguished the fires under the potions, knowing if it boiled over even for ten seconds extra the potions would be ruined.
Picking up the bag with the toy snitch, he used a spell to snip a piece of it off, there was no need to put it all in the potion. Picking up the cut piece, he stepped back knowing it would explode and he would rather not get a boiled potion spitting in his face. He would have levitated the piece but magic and potions didn't work very well together - as he told his students, there would be no wand waving in his class. With precision he flicked it into the potion causing a small explosion, waving the smoke away he ladled it up and placed only a drop onto the parchment - praying that it worked. He was in a rush against time, against three different organizations to get to Harry first, the Dark Lord, the Order and of course the Ministry of magic. He was surprised Harry had managed to remain hidden, but it boded well, it gave him the time he needed to find him and keep him safe from all that would see harm coming to him. He'd been through enough, he doubted they'd ever get on but he didn't care about that he had promised Lily something and intended to see it through.
Peering at the parchment, waiting for the results with bated breath. Unfortunately as each second passed he began to become extremely discouraged that nothing was appearing. Apparently the saliva wasn't enough, or it had really been too long and exposed to the elements and it had become contaminated. Just as he was about to banish the potion, its contents and the parchment it began to squiggle, black lines began to form as it began to map out an area - giving him Harry Potter's exact location.
He knew the location well, and it seemed he was far too late.
The Dark Lord already had him.
Groaning in frustration, he slumped against the stool, what the hell was he supposed to do now? The Dark Lord had been more of his normal self, perhaps he could be convinced that they were better off keeping him alive and converting him to his side? He scoffed at his own thoughts, the thought of Harry joining him was laughable, he was so light…so blinded that there was no way Harry could possibly conceive working for the dark side. The added fact that the Dark Lord had killed his parents, this would be the one thing that would prevent it even if he was capable of opening the child's eyes to the fact he had been manipulated from the second he'd entered the magical world. It might not even just be Harry, it potentially could be Granger and Weasley as well, he just didn't know.
Then it dawned on him…he hadn't been called, the last time he had tried the Death Eaters had been called. Perhaps he didn't want to risk an additional embarrassment? It just didn't seem like something His Lord would fear, especially not from a fourteen year old child. There was something going on, he was sure of it, thinking back to their previous conversations, especially about the one regarding Harry Potter. He hadn't seemed overly concerned about the boy or the fact he was missing not that he would be concerned just elated. He hadn't called the Death Eaters and immediately ordered a search for him. In fact he had even asked his opinion on the boy! He needed answers, no matter how sane his Lord appeared right now, he knew the likelihood of getting an answer from him was less than zero until he wanted to share - and to add insult to injury he would end up with a torture curse on him for his troubles.
He would just have to risk it, what other choice did he have? He knew where Harry was, and he had sworn a Vow to protect him. If he failed then his life was forfeit just like Harry's was if he couldn't stop this madness. If he couldn't get the Dark Lord to change his mind, the only thing left might be to actually tell him the truth. Either way it seemed as if his death warrant was signed, as soon as the Dark Lord knew he would have to die protecting Harry - the wizard would know he was useless to the dark side. He would probably make the assumption that he was firmly on Dumbledore's side, which wasn't true, he couldn't stand the old fool or teaching unworthy students how to brew potions.
Looking around his Potions lab, he wondered if he would live long enough to see it again before he spun on his heel and Apparated.
Voldemort - his study
Voldemort stared down at the small glowing orb that had been cause of the source of his madness and downfall all those years ago. He had entered the Ministry and it had been quite ludicrously easy especially seeing as he had been under he influence of Poly-juice potion, and as Lucius Malfoy no questions had been asked. The pitiful spells Albus Dumbledore had on the prophecy had been easily bypassed - as easily as it was to pass the guard on duty. He had been tempted to let Nagini have at him, but instead chose to keep a low profile; he didn't want the Ministry to know he was here after all.
Only Dumbledore and perhaps a few of his pathetic Order members even knew about the Prophecy. If he realized it was gone…and tried to talk about it nobody would believe him. To the world he was an insane crazy old fool, and the longer it stayed that way the harder it would be to repair his reputation. It would take him a while to even realize it was gone unless he personally went down to see for himself. He had left a replica in its place, and a good one at that so it would take serious investigating to realize it wasn't the original.
For so long he had wanted to know what this thing said, now that he was so close to it that he could taste it he was unsure about hearing it. What if he had set up his own destruction? What if it told him of his own death by Potter's hand? He wouldn't be able to prevent himself killing the brat. With it he may be destroying his own sanity, which until recently had been lost to him. It wasn't something he relished happening once again; he had been a fool to think he could split his soul into so many pieces without consequence.
Nobody could accuse Voldemort of being a coward, he thought to himself, and with that the prophecy slipped from his fingers and smashed against the floor. And with it came Trelawney's voice, shrieking at the top of her lungs, the words of the prophecy. The first three were familiar to him as he had obsessed over it for so long…while wondering about the other half.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…
Voldemort sat up straighter, his face intense as he waited for the next one…finally after so long he would hear, he would know.
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…
The breath left him as he thought of the mark adorning Potter's head, the damnable scar. His worst fears were being realized, he had set in motion his own downfall. If he had heard this…knew the entire thing he may not have acted so rashly. He had set their destiny in motion, he honestly didnt know what to think now.
But he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not…
Voldemort's red eyes twinkled unmercifully, how dare they think he wouldn't find out? As if Potter being a Horcrux was a power, prophecies had the tendency to be very vague. Oh he knew, and that was why the boy was currently still alive. The power to keeping him alive, the power to keeping himself alive. Together they were immortal, bound together by a soul they now shared. His soul. Nothing could harm it except for him.
And either must die at the hand of the other…for neither can live while the other survives…
Voldemort snorted in a very un-Dark Lord like fashion, very smart with the word play, but he hadn't become the greatest wizard in the world by chance or happenstance. He was smart and powerful, and had the best grades Hogwarts had ever seen; he had even outdone Dumbledore in some subjects. Neither of them was just surviving…if he could just get Potter onside, although it truly wouldn't be that difficult, Potter hated Dumbledore with a passion that rivalled his own.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.
The thought that Potter was powerful enough to destroy him did not sit well with him, but he knew now that it wasn't an outright duel, no the power laid within him, his Horcrux. He would need to keep the boy alive and out of harms way, but given his tendency to get into trouble…he would need to make sure the boy knew how to fight. Then he needed to concentrate on breaking his followers out of Azkaban. It looked as though the boy would live then, not that it seemed to be a damnable problem for the boy - he seemed to like to push everyone's buttons to see how far they would go. He didn't fear death, and that was a new prospect to him, everyone feared death, even him.
Dumbledore wouldn't know what hit him, due to the fact he had made the same mistake again by leaving another boy to be abused he had ensured he would win.
He would make sure of it.
Harry was wandering around the manor, trying to come upon Pettigrew again, but so far he wasn't having much luck. He must have a little hole he liked to climb in as a rat. He couldn't very well search every little small hideout fit for a rat, which would take him days…although he did have a lot of time on his hands. Perhaps he should learn Wandless magic as well as how to be an Animagus, he honestly hoped he didn't become anything like Pettigrew. He absolutely refused to call him Wormtail that was something his dad and Sirius had thought up to give him when he'd been a friend. He was nothing but a cowardly, stinking, disgusting, ugly betrayer now. If he could only get Voldemort to send him to the Ministry Sirius would be free. He wasn't trustworthy, to any cause, if he could betray one he would and could betray the other. Maybe he should put those doubts into Voldemort's head; well he might as well have fun while he was stuck here.
Although it looked as though every time Voldemort left he would be locked up in a single room. He wasn't happy about it and had expressed his sentiments to Voldemort quite happily. Oh it had amused him to see him clenching his teeth and fists, and still do nothing. If he needed further proof that he changed…he wouldn't need to look anymore. Voldemort in the graveyard would have cast that spell in seconds; the power was quite…heady to have. He honestly wanted to see how far he could go before Voldemort lost it and actually cursed him. Oh, things always went crazy when he as bored.
So here was investigating the manor, which was tastefully done for a Dark wizard that is…no thrones made of skulls or dungeons full of prisoners. If he had just stumbled upon the place he wouldn't have thought twice about going in, that probably made it even more deceptive. Sliding into another room, he found it occupied. It definitely wasn't Pettigrew; no…it was who had they said it was? Bartemius Crouch Junior? He had posed as Mad-Eye Moody. He must have been good to fool even Dumbledore unless the old fool had known, but it seemed like an awfully big risk to take for so little reward.
"You," muttered Barty wide eyed, completely shocked. So this was who his Lord held in such high esteem? Why was he protected so? He had been trying to kill him for years...he just didn't understand it at all. All through this year he had been planning and re-planning Harry Potter's death. What had he missed? Something had happened damn being trapped in this bed.
Harry briefly wondered what that was about, he was just about to turn around and leave when the door automatically slammed shut on him.
"NOT AGAIN!" snapped Harry, slamming his fist into it, before yelping in pain and jumping around like an idiot until the pain dulled slightly. "Fuck!" well at least it wasn't broken, he thought to himself. Unfortunately it just meant he was trapped in a room with a man who had seemed utterly insane the last time he saw him. Someone must be in the manor, why was he so determined to keep him hidden? Pettigrew and now Crouch knew so what gives?
"Are you alright?" asked Barty, concerned.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Crouch Junior? You know the one that tried to kill me?" asked Harry, staring at the wizard as if he had lost his mind. Why the hell would he be concerned about him? The whole world had gone weird and he didn't like it at all.
"Do not call me that," twitched Barty hissing slightly, he absolutely loathed being reminded who his father was and what he'd been named after. "And I didn't try to kill you," he hadn't really had the chance.
"That's only because it was too public and everyone else arrived before you could," snorted Harry, as if he was stupid enough to believe that one.
"And yet you are alive," said Barty, his tone now filled with nothing but curiosity.
"Unfortunately," muttered Harry glaring at the door darkly.
"Why?" was then asked, when his Lord had said there was someone here…he hadn't expected it to be Harry 'I won't die' potter.
"Why don't you ask him?" grinned Harry ferally his mood changing too quickly for even the most experienced men to keep up with. "I'm sure he would just love your opinion."
"I'm not a masochist." muttered Barty under his breath.
"No just a sadist." sniped Harry, thinking of the Longbottoms. He couldn't have been more surprised when Barty looked away…was he embarrassed? Or ashamed? That wasn't the reaction he had been expecting. What the hell? This was getting weird…getting? It had been weird ever since that damn House-Elf had Apparated into Dudley's second bedroom and abducted him. Everything he thought he knew was being tested to the limits and beyond.
"Believe it or not…we weren't always like that," sighed Barty. "We just lost sight of who we were and what we hoped to accomplish. We became the monsters the light side were saying we were."
"Tell that to Neville Longbottom, it wasn't enough that you tortured his parents you had to show him the spell up close and personal." hissed Harry, and not to forget him. It wasn't just the Cruciatus Curse that had been shown but the killing curse as well. Although Lucius Malfoy had almost said the spell in his second year - he hadn't actually seen the spell formed and used to kill a living creature - even if it was only a spider. Why wasn't he fighting back? Using some sort of excuse? Getting angry? It was odd, unless…unless Voldemort had made it clear to them that he wasn't to be touched. Well, if that was the case he would definitely need to have some fun with Pettigrew. Would he though? It just wasn't like Voldemort…man this was making his head ache.
"I was playing my part," stated Barty, sharply, "I was playing an Auror who was known for his suspicion of everything and everyone…which admittedly played in my favour. It's exactly what Moody would have done, showed everyone the consequences of those spells especially with a war on the horizon. Do you think Dumbledore would have allowed it if its not exactly what he had planned…what his friend would do?" sarcasm thick when speaking of Dumbledore and the thought of the old fool actually having friends.
Harry had to concede the point…it obviously was what Moody would have done otherwise Dumbledore would have ended up suspicious. He hadn't really thought of it like that before. It didn't really matter, after all they'd done what they had and nothing could undo it. It was hard to decide who was worse, him for doing it or Dumbledore allowing it knowing exactly what he was putting him and Neville through. Wasn't it enough that he had heard his parent's death all last year because Dumbledore had allowed the Dementors in the school? He wasn't stupid enough to think they would have been there unless it was something Dumbledore wanted. He probably suspected that Sirius was really innocent - he wasn't overly surprised when they'd claimed he as. And he hadn't assumed they'd been hexed like everyone else.
"Why are you here?" Barty asked again, really wishing for an answer.
"Same reply as before, ask HIM!" muttered Harry, looking around the room, it was just like his in layout and everything in it. Well there were books here and a bag but other than that it was the same colour scheme as his. "Haven't you been reading the newspapers?"
"That rag? It's only purpose should be for lighting fires," sneered Barty, grimacing in distaste. "Plus it only writes what the Ministry allows them to write."
Harry didn't question how he would know such a thing since his father had been on the run for the Minister of Magic position. Popular for throwing the Death Eaters into prison without trial and giving the Auror's the freedom to use the killing curses. His dislike for Crouch came from the fact he'd forced him to compete in the tournament and had a hand in locking up Sirius without trial. The only reason the wizarding world had become disenchanted with Crouch was due to his son being a Death Eater. They were so fickle it was actually disgusting and abhorrent to him. Still, he hadn't expected to have a…slightly normal conversation with Bartemius Crouch junior of all people. He's been completely mad the last time he saw him. "How are you so…normal?" asked Harry, staring at Crouch.
"Excuse me?" asked Barty surprised.
"What? You're not spitting and demanding to know what he had done to the other Death Eaters!" stated Harry defensively.
"Potions," grunted Barty, glaring at the teenager.
"They have potions that can help mental illnesses?" asked Harry in curiosity staring over at the vials slightly impressed.
"I am not mentally ill," hissed Barty insulted. "They just help people who've been exposed to Dementors," the other potion helped clear his mind of the affects the Imperius Curse had on him. He was filled with potions, but he couldn't deny the results, he was feeling more like his old self than ever before.
Harry nodded his head, wondering why Sirius hadn't been given those potions. He sure could use them, although he couldn't say for sure since he didn't know Sirius as well as he would like. He'd only seen him a few times and written with him every now and again, but surely he shouldn't act the way he did? He took too many risks, acted as if he was still seventeen years old…and could only get reprimanded not thrown back in Azkaban or kissed by a Dementor. He was thinking of the time Sirius had wanted to meet him when the whole tournament fiasco - comparing him to his father saying he was less like him than he thought. That had surprisingly hurt him, just like Remus' words had when he basically told him he was ungrateful for his parents sacrifice because he was wandering Hogwarts at night. He hadn't felt the same fondness for Remus since then…and when he had heard nothing from the wizard it had cemented his anger for him. He wasn't the only student who wandered the castle! The hypocrite used to do it too.
He didn't know Crouch either, but the difference in him…was quite frankly astonishing. He was no longer spitting leering and demanding, he would add trying to kill him but he knew…he just knew Voldemort had something to do with that not the potions.
"Here," said Barty, throwing a book at the bottom of his bed. "Sit down your pacing is giving me a headache.
"Dark arts?" stated Harry, reading the title.
"You were better than some of the seventh years I taught," grunted Barty, sounding a bit like Moody in that moment. "You have a natural affinity for that branch of magic."
"Hmm," was the only sound Harry made as he sat down.
"Plus its funny imagining the look on Dumbledore's face if he saw you reading a book like that…he often commented on you being his greatest creation." the sadistic grin was back, showing Harry that he wasn't completely different and Harry took comfort in that.
"Yes, just hilarious," Harry told him a deadpanned look on his face. Creation? That's what he was? Something that Dumbledore had created? Pft that's what the old fool liked to think. He must have really had him fooled, either he wasn't as good as he liked to think himself…or he wasn't as powerful as he made out. He was obviously powerful, Voldemort was scared to go up against him, or was he? After all he'd only ever heard that from his classmates, they wouldn't know any better than him what the last war had been like. He didn't know anything…so perhaps now was the time to find out.
"Why did you join?" asked Harry, not even pretending to read the book - as interesting as it actually was. Was there more to the Dark side than the evil, insanity, and pureblood-melodrama, the relentless pursuit of power and to dominate all wizards and witches without caring about the consequences or repercussions. Their savagery and eagerness to cause people as much pain as possible as their bloodthirsty killing.
Barty gave Harry a measuring look, as if judging the sincerity and reason behind him asking. "I respected and admired the Dark Lord, and I believe in the cause." there was more to it than that but he refused to tell the teenager that. He craved the Dark Lord's approval, he thought of him as a father, he had been there for him when his own biological father had not, had taught him everything he knew…it wasn't hard to admire him, his power, his knowledge and abilities. His biological father had never been around, not for as long as he could remember him, he spent all his time at the Ministry, even when his mother got sick and even during her dying days he had never been around. He had never cared about his mother or him, and he loathed him with all he had.
"And the Cause?" questioned Harry seriously, giving Crouch his undivided attention. He heard the door clicking open, nobody was there it was just magic letting him out now that whoever was in the Manor either gone or told about him…he would go with gone.
"We are the ones that question the logic of the Ministry, who believe in good and evil, light and dark, but the reality is there is no good or evil only power and those determined enough to seek it." stated Barty.
Harry blinked, flashing back to his first year "There is no good and evil, only power, and those too weak to seek it." Voldemort had said that.
"That's it? That's the speech you give to people considering coming to the Dark side?" asked Harry blankly.
"Surely you are smart enough to realize there is no such thing as good magic," sneered Barty irritated.
"I get that, but why is it worth being killed over?" Harry said to him. He wanted to know why they were willing to risk everything, see their side of it everything he knew was one sided.
"Only someone naïve could ask that," Barty told Harry sardonically. "All other schools allow the practice of Dark Arts, teaches them how to perform the spells and stop yourself being dragged into the thrall of Dark magic. It's only dangerous when you do not know how to control it, those too weak to master it. More and more magic is being classified as Dark, all this knowledge, this power…a way of life is being deemed illegal because of one old fool."
"What does Dumbledore have to do with magic being made illegal?" asked Harry, cutting in surely his hold wasn't so complete that he was able to fool everyone within the Ministry? Crouch was passionate about it, each word proved that without a shadow of a doubt.
"His word is basically law, has been since he defeated Grindelwald, anything he said goes, it's just the way it is. There aren't many that would stand against Dumbledore and risk being an outcast of society so they follow his example. Those that don't want to come here and find other likeminded people, those that believe all magic is a gift and should be allowed to be practiced without scorn ridicule and being sent to Azkaban." Barty told him, surprised the boy was still interested and willing to listen to his side. "Why do you think he made sure you remained in the Muggle world?"
"Wait…what do I have to do with this?" demanded Harry, trying to keep up with everything.
"That night you became a new hero, the new hero. If you had stayed…everyone would have clung on to your word…not Dumbledore's. The interest started up again the second you returned to the magical world surely you noticed it? But he made sure you were secluded at Hogwarts, the press anyone from within the Ministry he made sure you were unavailable. He also made sure that your little escapades were kept under wraps, if you had grown up with a magical guardian you could have sued Hogwarts to its back teeth and Dumbledore for what happened."
"Um…" Harry was blown away; he didn't know what to say to that!
"It's ironic that he shows his disgust at all things considered Dark magic when the spells he surrounded your home in were as dark as they come…its' not called blood wards or blood magic for nothing." sneered Barty, his total disgust for Dumbledore showing.
"They are?" commented Harry, surprised. They had gotten way off topic, maybe he should just ask Voldemort what his goals were…or what they had been when he first started.
"Since Dumbledore came to power…over a dozen classes at Hogwarts have been cut from the curriculum, the last one I heard he was trying to remove was Divination. All that magic lost…because of one mans opinion of what magic should be…meanwhile he doesn't practice what he preaches." said Barty.
"So this war isn't with the Muggle-born's then…it's with Dumbledore?" Harry was blown away, all those deaths and for what? Because of one wizard who was determined to apparently squash all magical knowledge other than what he deemed 'proper' he wondered if he could find out about the classes. Hogwarts: a history! That would be able to tell him about the classes surely?
"Dumbledore and the Order, essentially yes," confirmed Barty.
He needed to read Hogwarts: A History and ask Voldemort a few questions…hopefully he would be in a revealing mood. If not then he would just continue to ask him until he got his answers. He guessed Pettigrew was safe for now; he had more important things to worry about.
R&R please.