Embracing His True Self

Chapter 12

Surprises

Harry was jolted awake by a knocking on his door, nobody usually did that, he'd always been awake early. Had he slept in? blearily looking around, before remembering he didn't have a clock here, so a quick 'Tempus' revealed it was only seven o'clock. Yawning tiredly, he slid out of the bed and opened the door cautiously, blinking in surprise when Voldemort was standing at the other side. Usually he just had the House-elves come fetch him.

"Here," Voldemort stated sharply shoving a large bundle into his arms.

Harry was surprised by its light weight, it was a large parcel after all, curiously ripped it open, both eyebrows rose in surprise, clothes? And was that a wand holster? What the hell was going on? Voldemort hadn't seriously just bought him clothes? He'd been using his school uniform which admittedly was becoming increasingly tight due to the fact he'd put so much weight on with the consumption of his new potion and the others Voldemort made him take, as well as the food he was eating here. It had gotten to the extent he was actually having to use his cousins cast offs again, just shrunk slightly to fit his frame, thanks to a handy spell he'd found. Honestly, he was turning into Hermione being surrounded by so many books, and actually able to read them without a single judgement being made. In fact Voldemort seemed to get amusement out of him reading books Dumbledore would consider 'dark'.

"Um…why did you buy me clothes?" Harry was too stunned (not to mention tired too) to even put his sarcastic retorts into action, instead he'd just asked the question on his mind.

"I don't want a wizard dressed in filthy muggle clothes in my manor," Voldemort sneered, he did not even want to examine too closely why he had as well. Seeing the boy dressed in those disgusting second hand clothes infuriated him, set him on edge, it was hard enough not to just go down there and end the Dursley's lives, but no, death was too good for the likes of them. He wanted them to suffer endlessly for harming a wizard - he wanted to make an example of them. Plus if any of his Death Eaters were to see him dressed like that…well they might think the wrong idea - that it's perfectly alright to torture the boy. No, if he wanted them to play nice, Potter would need to dress the part and play it as well.

"Well I'm not going to argue with that," Harry said smirking wryly, "I've wanted to buy some clothes for years,"

"Then why didn't you?" Voldemort asked condescendingly, the boy knew he had the money so it couldn't be that.

"To start with?" Harry said thoughtfully as he put the bundle on his bed, "I was under the impression that I only had a single vault to see me through my Hogwarts years. The trust fund they set up, it wasn't until I did some reading for the tournament that I realized what it was and that when I became of age I would have more money to spend than I anticipated. That and I didn't want to risk my relatives finding out I had money, their distaste for all things magical probably wouldn't count my money."

"Reading? You mean a goblin hasn't explained all this to you?" Voldemort frowned, was nothing simple when it came to Potter?

"I've only been to Gringotts once," Harry shrugged, "The rest of the time someone else has gone for me. In fact I don't even have my key."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Voldemort narrowed his eyes, he would need to find a way to check someone wasn't milking the Potter accounts dry. At least nobody would be able to touch the main vaults, just the trust fund, no you had to be a Potter by blood or marriage to get near those and the current heir had to be seventeen. The Goblins didn't bow to no-one, so there was definitely no way they would bend the rules not for a wizard or witch at any rate. They hated thievery, and their safety measures were something he admired, if he'd had a body he knew there wouldn't have been any way he would have gotten in and out of Gringotts safely after going for the stone. If he had…he could imagine it would be the straw that broke the camels back and Harry would well and truly be his. Yes, he would have to add it to his to do list, which was becoming increasingly longer, but things were looking up so he wasn't too vexed.

"Of course it does," Harry stated scowling darkly, his green eyes so dark they didn't look like emeralds but rather Russian diopsides.

"Let me guess, playing the part?" Voldemort stated, a sadistic grin on his face once more just imagining Dumbledore's face when he found out.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Breakfast will be ready soon, be there." Voldemort reminded him curtly before he began to stalk away, and only when he was far enough away did he add, "Oh and Potter?"

Harry turned back around staring at the wizard in confusion, "Yes?"

"Happy Birthday," he smirked at the shocked look that appeared on the boys face, it was definitely worth saying those infernal words.

It was his birthday? And Voldemort had given him a present? It was official the world was going to hell, he was sure of it. He had forgotten, it was the first time he'd ever fallen asleep before midnight, usually he stayed up, wishing himself a happy birthday as was his tradition whenever he'd found out his birth date at school. He hadn't received any owls, he always got owls from his friends, either they weren't sending him anything due to him 'running away' OR the owls couldn't find the place, it was probably a bit of both. Closing the door he wandered back over to the pile, was it just a coincidence that they'd came today or had Voldemort actually gotten him something for his birthday?

Harry picked up the wand holster, he'd seen Voldemort wearing one, in fact Barty had one as well, he absently strapped it to his wrist, flexing it curiously it was lightweight, he couldn't even tell it was there overly much, didn't feel too tight or annoyingly restrictive. Grinning wryly, he slid his wand which he still had in his hand, into the holster. He laughed a little seeing that the clothes were mostly black and green, he was surprised really, he didn't think Voldemort knew of any colour other than black itself - it was all he ever wore. Removing his nightwear, he slid on the brand new clothes, which to his delight fitted him perfectly, he actually had clothes that were brand new and meant for him…and he got them from Voldemort, it was ironic really.

Once dressed he left his room, after making sure the door was shut, he'd warded it so he would know if anyone entered. He didn't like the thought of anyone being in there. Voldemort hadn't said anything when he saw him looking up wards or actually casting them so it was probably safe to say he didn't care. Sliding into the room and claimed his usual seat, Voldemort as usual gave him a pointed look at the potions, daring him to argue - but Harry didn't not anymore. He liked the results of the potions too much to care, and he was able to fight better during his lessons with Voldemort too.

"Lessons start at the normal time," Voldemort stated, folding the Daily Prophet before standing and vacating his chair (not even waiting for a reply from Harry) once he was sure Harry had drank his potions, having already eaten his own breakfast he headed to the only likely location - his study. He spent nearly all his time in there, who would have guessed there was so much paperwork involved by trying to take over the world?

Harry quickly ate his breakfast, knowing Pettigrew would be around for scraps any time soon, he couldn't and being anywhere near the disgusting wizard. He'd spent too much time in his company as it was, if he wasn't learning Legilimency on Figg he was learning it on Pettigrew. It was getting to the stage whenever the wizard was near he could hear his thoughts as if he was shouting at him. Just as he thought this he heard it, the usual inane annoying questions. Wondering why the Death Eaters were getting away with not looking for him, why he wasn't killing 'Potter' (he was causing the rat a lot of pain, at least as much as he could without annoying Voldemort too much) why he wasn't being revered after all he had brought his lord back.

He stood up and quickly walked away, if he happened to stand on his tail well…it wasn't his fault he should have really stopped wandering around in his Animagus form a long time ago. He smirked ferally at the squeaking thing before leaving the room altogether not caring when the wizard turned back and glared at him with his disgusting beady eyes.

Harry came back to himself, panting dangerously, on his knees feeling as though he'd ran the entire length of the Quidditch pitch ten times. His wand was on Voldemort's desk, the arse had decided that 'it was time to see if his natural magic would hold against the might of anyone' well that and adding 'not that anyone was as good as he' in that smug tone of his, so if he succeeded then no more training was required. So for the past two hours he'd been enduring "Legilimens" being continuously cast on him, as Voldemort relentlessly tried or actually invaded his mind. It didn't half take it out of him, who would have thought using magic could be so physically draining when you didn't actually move? He couldn't deny though that Voldemort was quite thorough when teaching him anything.

"It seems you won't require much more tutoring," Voldemort replied in a deceptive smooth tone as he stepped back from the exhausted teenager. For a fifteen year old he did have a thirst for knowledge that he'd only seen in himself. Everyone he had taught was usually eighteen years of age and up, and even then they had trouble keeping up with the rigorous pace he set. It was times like this where he was vividly reminded this boy was his equal, not something a wizard such as he liked to tolerate, he had always been better than everyone else, more powerful, more important.

"Can I ask you a question?" Harry asked, as he continued kneeling there trying to regain his equilibrium.

"You just did," Voldemort stated in amusement, sitting down staring at the teenager curiously, since when did Harry Potter feel the need to ask permission to ask something?

"You used Pettigrew as a spy, why didn't you teach him how to shield his mind? Dumbledore has no problem gleaning my own mind…I'm sure he has no problem doing the same to the others in his precious order…especially if their minds are completely undefended." Harry asked, grunting as he forced himself to his feet, his knees throbbed painfully, after a few wobbly steps he regained his footing and sat down on the only other seat in Voldemort's office, where the book he was currently reading sat on the table next to it. He didn't pick it up though; he was genuinely curious why Voldemort would risk a spy being found out.

"What makes you think he cannot?" Voldemort asked in mild surprise.

"Other than the fact I can now tell whenever he's around since his mind won't stop blubbering?" Harry muttered in annoyance as he rubbed at his head where a migraine had been building slowly for the past hour or so. To begin with it had been so much fun since Pettigrew could never understand how he always 'snuck up on him' even while as an Animagus, but now? Now he was tired of his constant and incessant whining. He didn't know how the hell Voldemort put up with it, it was no wonder he was angry and frustrated all the time.

Voldemort sat up straighter at that pronouncement, an eyebrow arched; barely concealing his surprise and that said a lot since Voldemort had a lot of practice hiding his true feelings as a young boy. By the time he entered Hogwarts he'd never once shown his true feelings, exception of when he was angry of course. "You can hear him all the time?" Voldemort didn't know what the hell to think, it was astonishing really.

"Whenever he's near enough, yeah," Harry said giving Voldemort a strange look, not understanding his current look. "What is it?"

"When you familiarize yourself with someone else's mind, you tend to find you can hear them in the vicinity of you, especially if they have no mind defences whatsoever." Voldemort replied thoughtfully. Smirking inwardly at the face Harry made when he said 'familiarize' Harry did not want to be anywhere near Pettigrew never mind listening to him no doubt. "Only extremely powerful Legilimens and Occlumens are able to do such a thing, and that usually requires an extremely long build up, years of digging into someone's mind for such a connection to occur."

"I've always been weird," Harry just shrugged at the knowledge, he was past caring. Most adults had a difficult time casting a Patronus yet he was able to at the age of thirteen. "Is there a way to shut it off?" he was liable to actually kill Pettigrew if this continued, and he really didn't want to end up back in the cell again, which he knew he would be if he did go so blatantly against Voldemort's wishes - he wasn't known to be tolerant when things didn't go his way after all. Harry only pushed him so far just to see how he would react; he didn't want to outright actually piss him off.

"You're broadcasting," Voldemort stated curiously, obviously the boy didn't even realize he was doing it. "You're the one mentally seeking his mind out, you've obviously been concentrating more on Legilimency than closing your mind." yet he couldn't find any flaws in his ability in keeping his mind secure from external penetration. Dumbledore wouldn't try to penetrate Harry's mind, not unless he was prepared to lose his puppets trust, and he wasn't sure Dumbledore would risk it. Although to be on the safe side he had ensured the boy's mind was secured. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been proven wrong as of late, everything he'd assumed about the boy was wrong. For the first time he truly didn't mind being wrong, in fact it was quite exhilarating to bring out the darker side of the boy. It might already have been there but he had brought it out, helped him harness it in a way that was productive and prevented him from being drawn into it like so many others before him who had become enthralled with the Dark Arts.

"Oh," Harry murmured thoughtfully, well he guessed that made sense. What didn't make sense was why Voldemort was even teaching him in the first place. He naturally came to the conclusion that he didn't want his 'Horcrux' to have an unprotected mind, he wouldn't want Dumbledore to find out at any rate - if the wizard somehow found him and rescued him - was it called a rescue when he felt more at home here than he had anywhere else? Even Hogwarts? Hogwarts was a gilded cage after all, where he was watched closely, monitored, judged, hated, adored and expected to kill a wizard with sixty years of magical experience. It wasn't even just that either, Voldemort had travelled all over the world; he had books in dozens of languages. He'd never been anywhere; he could name the places he'd been with one hand. He was watched here, sort of, but he had more freedom here than anywhere else. He often wondered if he was suffering from Stockholm syndrome, but that required an emotional attachment to his captor, which he did not. Although he respected Voldemort, but that was solely due to his abilities, he was a bloody brilliant dueller, and he couldn't help but wonder how Dumbledore or anyone else for that matter could expect him to defeat him! The parasite he'd faced…was nothing compared to Voldemort at full power, even at the graveyard he'd been fast but nothing on him now, he'd obviously been weak still upon his resurrection.

"Occluding your mind will stop it," Voldemort assured him, without any sort of reassuring note in his voice, he was a Dark Lord he had a reputation to keep up after all. Which wasn't easy when this boy did his best to see him losing it.

"Great," Harry said a little more cheerful with that knowledge, at least he wouldn't have to put up with Pettigrew all the time, just when he wanted to have some fun.

"Indeed," Voldemort replied sardonically, turning from the teenager he began to deal with his usual correspondence he had to delay to teach the boy.

The door opening caught both their attentions, Voldemort turned around a curse ready to leave his lips, he didn't want to deal with Wormtail any more than he had to. Cursing him made the rat avoid him for a few days, the curse never left his lips, it wasn't Wormtail it was Barty.

"My Lord," Barty said bowing just slightly, not able to go as low as he usually would.

"Barty," Voldemort intoned, without saying a word asking what he was doing there.

"My Lord." Barty nodded once more before going on to explain. "Grant has said I am at full health; is there anything I can do for you, My Lord?" Barty enquired, his gaze never wavering from the Dark Lord's as he spoke. Showing nothing but a deep longing to be useful to him, to aid him in his quest, he would lay down his very life for him if need be. He would do all those things, he had sworn his eternal loyalty, and he had meant it even to this day. The Dark Lord had been there for him more than his own father, gave him more attention than his father had during his entire life. It was hardly a surprise that he felt loyal to him.

Voldemort stared at the emaciated wizard before him, he knew if he spoke to Grant he wouldn't say that he'd given Barty the all clear, but he'd obviously been given permission to get up out of bed now. A trickle of emotion distracted him just slightly, jealousy? Now that was interesting, he had to stop himself turning to face Potter just to see if his emotions were displayed on his face. "There is nothing that requires doing at the moment," at least nothing Barty could do. Everyone who had their orders, had them for a reason, he needed no other things doing. "There will come a time when I do need you Barty, and you must be physically fit otherwise you will be left behind." he did not want any liabilities coming with him when he went to let his followers out of Azkaban after gaining the Dementors allegiance. Which shouldn't be too difficult, they had given it the last time, this time there would be nothing that could defeat him. The so called prophecy boy was his; he literally couldn't harm him, just as he couldn't harm Harry.

Barty stiffened up straighter, determination radiating from him; he would do whatever it took so he didn't let his Lord down. He would go and speak to Grant about how best to get himself back to optimal health. "I will, My Lord." he declared seriously, bowing low again he left the room, closing the door behind him already on his way to owl Grant for the best workout for his health without compromising it.

Voldemort turned to face Harry, curious about the feelings the boy was currently going through. "Now why would the Boy-Who-Lived feel jealous?" Voldemort taunted, knowing it was the best way to get the truth from the boy by riling him up. Well sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, he never could tell with him.

"I really hate when you call me that," Harry gritted his teeth, he knew what the wizard was trying to do and he wouldn't fall for it, nor would he admit what he was really feeling. Seeing the look Barty's face had made him feel so very jealous. The reverence, the willingness to do whatever that was asked of him, the loyalty…it wasn't just to the Dark side, or the cause but it was to Voldemort himself. He had never once seen that sort of look directed at him, not really. They stared at his forehead, the symbol of light and all things good, they weren't loyal to him, they were loyal to the cause, to Dumbledore, never him not even when he so called 'proved himself' when in reality he was just surviving and playing a part at the same time. Even his so called best friends cared more about Dumbledore than they did him.

He wanted people to admire him for him, not the damn cause, the lightening bolt or Dumbledore. It might have been a childish thing to do but Harry picked up his book, opened it at the page he'd marked it at and began reading, he was not going to deal with Voldemort right now - he had bad enough bitter taste in his mouth as it was. The revelation of his had quite frankly come out of nowhere stunning even him.

Voldemort cocked his head to the side just slightly, he didn't need Harry to say anything, and his feelings were giving him away for him. He could sense his desire to be respected, to be admired, the jealousy he realized must have stemmed from Barty's own unwavering loyalty. That was interesting; he hadn't expected that at all. He also understood the desire, since he himself had desired nothing more and had gone on to achieve just that and more.

The wards once again shifted, it seemed he had company, Severus was once again here.

"Take the book and go to your room," Voldemort demanded.

"I don't see why you bother squirreling me away; it's not as if I can stop any of your plans anyway!" Harry grumbled, but did as he was told, he didn't fancy going flying through the halls again. As fun as it had been the landing had been painful and humiliating, so he was reluctantly being a good boy without antagonising Voldemort too much.

Voldemort just stared blankly at the teens back until he was gone, shaking his head, sometimes he wondered if he should have just stayed insane, at least he wouldn't have to put up with Potter and his dramatics and backchat. He would have probably killed him and saved himself a lot of hassle.

"My Lord," Severus said as he cleared his throat loudly, it seemed he was catching the Dark Lord out of sorts more and more these days.

"Severus," Voldemort stated, staring at him expectantly.

"I did as you asked and retrieved the locket, I swapped it out for the copy not even the House-elf knows," Severus informed him, removing the large ornate locket from his secure pocket where he'd kept it. He had been able to sense the darkness in it, which was why he had immediately came here, he didn't want it in his presence for too long. How Dumbledore hadn't sensed it he had no idea, it had called to him at the meeting.

Voldemort had to stop himself snatching the locket from Severus' hands now that was out of the question; he did not want the wizard to know what it was. He could sense no spell residue on it, nobody had tried to tamper with it, or spell it open. Instead he merely put his hand out and accepted the locket when Severus dropped it into his hands. "You have done well, Severus," Voldemort said, placing the locket in his cloak pocket.

Severus just nodded, dipping his head in acknowledgement of the praise.

"As for your…suggestions, I have decided they have merits," Voldemort said smoothly, letting him know that Potter would be back with his 'adoring' fans and 'concerned' teachers soon enough. It wouldn't be long before the boy was actually wishing to be back here he'd bet. He loathed the public, Dumbledore, the students at Hogwarts; in fact he wasn't sure there was anything the boy actually did like.

Surprise flickered over Severus' face, "I see," he replied, he hadn't honestly expected the Dark Lord to agree with him. He'd just put forth the idea out of desperation. Sooner or later Harry would have gotten away on his own, or he would have loathed being there with every iota of his being, this way he had a real chance of actually choosing the dark side willingly. Something Severus wanted to happen dearly, it would make life much easier for him. "What is the best way for him to return?" especially without any suspicion.

"I will let Potter come up with that, since he is apparently all too good at playing the hero," Voldemort smirked sadistically, and he was definitely getting the memory from Severus if he was there to witness it. He actually wanted to see the boy in action, he might get lucky if not there would be other times he was sure. He had never once been able to fool Dumbledore, and Harry had been doing it for years…he honestly wondered how he did it. He was good, that's all he had to say on the matter, he had to be. Perhaps he should ensure that Severus was the one who 'found him' that would guarantee he received a play by play of the event.

Severus couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past his throat, agreeing with his Lord one hundred percent. Even he had been fully duped by the child since he was eleven, damn straight he could play the hero. "Indeed," he stated, his face impassive as if he'd never actually just chuckled - he didn't chuckle, laugh or giggle full stop. "Dumbledore has become even more desperate and angry as time passes, the letters he has tried to get his friends to send to him have returned unopened, including the gifts everyone in the Order decided to sent to him last night." the owls had circled outside before returning not even a few moments later unable to pinpoint Harry's location - none of them should have been surprised but they were - he'd been forced to remind himself that he was dealing with idiots. As if giving him birthday gifts could make up for the fact they didn't care, and they didn't, not about him but what Harry could do for the cause that much was obvious, especially when it came to Moody, Doge and Dumbledore, since they all seem to know the truth about Harry's home life. He had been asked to identify a wizard in a memory belonging to Arabella Figg, it seemed Harry had yet another wizard he loathed with all his being. He had been there and seen he look on the teens face.

He was honestly quite surprised by how fierce he had looked, if he was Doge he would have run for the hills.

"Hardly surprising," Voldemort stated wryly, Dumbledore knew he couldn't win the war without his little puppet.

R&R please.