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It took Harry a few minutes to wrap his head around the words. Those words contradicted everything he had been led to believe. Those words changed the entire meaning of his life. His parents had been killed? But why? How?
"Why?"
Harry felt tears well up in his eyes and escape from his closed lashes. The emptiness in his heart, the numbness pounding his brain, the salty tears that flowed unchecked from his eyes, the shear nothingness that now took hold of his soul threatened to engulf him entirely. He felt Voldemort's fingers brush the tears away. When there was no reply, Harry spoke again,
"I never knew them. I never even saw them."
Voldemort stared down at Harry. His tear-soaked eyelashes stuck to his cheeks, his soft features were riddled with confusion and grief. He savoured the vindictive pleasure he received from seeing him so utterly broken and defenceless,
"But you did hear your mother's voice."
The realization struck him like lightning. Harry struggled to open his eyes again but couldn't. Those screams, that woman's voice. It had been his mother. She had been trying to protect him,
"Why did you…?"
Voldemort held a finger to Harry's lips and quietened him effectively,
"No more question."
Harry spoke despite the finger on his lips,
"You're going to kill me. I deserve to know the truth."
Harry's breath hitched in his throat when Voldemort removed the finger and struck him across the face,
"Exactly, I am going to kill you and for that very reason, your knowledge of the truth shall not mean anything."
He watched with a smirk as Harry struggled against the chain and attempted to open his eyes again. It seemed Harry was gaining back his reckless courage. He would enjoy killing Harry immensely now,
"I want to know. I don't care if it means nothing. Please tell me."
Voldemort tugged back Harry's hair roughly,
"I murdered them because they stood in my way. That night, I set out to kill you because you had been prophesized as my downfall. I gave them the opportunity to step aside and save themselves. They refused and died. You, on the other hand…"
Harry listened with abated breath and then exhaled,
"How did I survive?"
A cry escaped Harry as the same blinding excruciating pain consumed him again. He struggled and writhed as Voldemort held him still by his hair. It felt like the pain had lasted an eternity before it finally came to an end. Harry panted and struggled to breathe. Voldemort spat out venomously,
"You're the reason for this curse. The curse upon me, my death eaters, this castle."
Harry was feeling overwhelmed by what he had learnt. He couldn't imagine being anyone's downfall. And he had only been a baby when his parents had been killed. How could a baby be anyone's downfall? He imagined how different things could have been if his parents had been alive. He wouldn't have lived as miserably as he had. He would have been loved and cared for. He would have had a family. Voldemort had snatched everything away when he had murdered his parents. Harry felt nothing but hate and contempt towards the man or monster currently holding him down. And Voldemort had mentioned a curse. Was that curse the reason everything and everyone here was like they were?
"Finish what you started then but I want my dying wish."
Voldemort admired the audacity,
"What do you wish for?"
Harry spoke,
"I want to see you. I want to see my murderer."
Voldemort's eyes widened at that request. It shocked him that Harry would ask for something so trivial and yet so significant at the same time. Voldemort snarled and roughly grabbed Harry's chin,
"Are you sure you do not wish me to give you a fighting chance. I can free you from these restraints and give you a chance to run."
Harry laughed cynically,
"I'm not a coward."
Voldemort tightened his hold on Harry's chin. Oh, how he would love to torture him into oblivion. But more than that he wanted him dead. Too bad Harry would just have to die without his wish being fulfilled,
"Do you prefer to die painfully or painlessly?"
Harry gritted his teeth,
"As painfully as possible."
Voldemort chuckled darkly,
"My thoughts exactly."
He moved his hand over Harry's chest and felt the thunderous rhythm of his heart,
"I am going to rip your heart out of your chest."
Harry squared his jaw and prepared himself for the impending pain. It was going to hurt but in the end, eventually he would meet his parents. He was finally going to see them. That happiness outweighed everything else and he drew in a deep breath. He was ready. He was ready for this.
Voldemort watched the calm on Harry's pain and he was gripped by the urge to shatter it. How could he be this peaceful when he knew that he was going to die? He dug his sharpened nails into Harry's chest, tearing the material of his oversized shirt and penetrating his skin.
Harry felt the nails penetrate his skin and he restrained the cry that threatened to escape his lips. The pain was going to be far worse when the nails would tear his flesh.
Voldemort kept a tight hold on Harry's hair with his other hand and increased the pressure on his nails. He saw the crimson blood appear but as soon as it touched his hands, he cried out in shock and pulled his hand back reflexively.
Harry felt the nails sink deeper and he felt his self-control fading. He was just about to cry out when another cry rang out in the room. It was definitely Lord Voldemort's because the nails disappeared from his chest and Voldemort's grip vanished from his hair.
Voldemort stared down at his hand which was burned where Harry's blood had touched him. What was this? He observed the burn closely and healed it with a flick of his wrist. He looked at Harry and it was apparent from the confused expression on his face that he wasn't aware of what had happened. His gaze took in the crimson liquid that trickled down Harry's chest and felt extremely perturbed. How was this possible? He drew away from him and rose to his feet. This new development had changed things. It seemed he would have to keep him alive after all.
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