HP/LV: What if Harry found out he was a horcrux before he was meant to? What kind of path would that lead him down and to who would he turn to when everything else around him falls apart. Dark Harry and Slash

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other character based off the series, those rights are JKR's not mine.

AN: My most heartfelt thanks to my beta 94 who really has outdone herself.

Mind talking: Voldemort and 'Harry'

-Parseltongue-

"Normal Speech"

Letters

Chapter Two

Privet Drive

Harry awoke from a very pleasant dream of flying away from all his troubles on his trusty Firebolt, to find a very impressive black hawk owl tapping against his window.

He looked at the time and cursed the idiot who decided to send him something so early in the morning.

Upon noticing that he was awake, the owl's tapping became more insistent.

Harry groaned, reluctantly swung out of bed, turned his desk light on and opened the window. Flying into the room, the black owl gave an annoyed hoot before settling on the desk and sticking its leg out.

Harry noticed that it carried more than a letter and finally mustered some excitement, thinking that Dumbledore must have already sent him the Occlumancy books he had promised him the night before.

Making quick work of relieving the owl of its packages, Harry offered it some of Hedwig's water, who was out hunting. The owl seemed slightly pacified as it hooted its thanks.

Harry quickly started to rip open the packages, the letter momentarily forgotten. What he pulled out however, were not Occulmency books, but instead books that, judging by the titles, seemed to belong in the restricted section of Hogwarts: he was holding the Secrets of the Darkest Arts.

Harry's common sense suddenly caught up with him and he dropped the books as if he'd been burnt, slowly backing towards the door. Who the hell would send him Dark Arts books? There was no way that this was Dumbledore's doing: he'd never even consider it!

The owl, having drunk its fill of water, hopped on his desk, hooting once more, before flying out of the window: it seemed that its owner was not expecting a reply.

Harry, starting to panic, looked himself over as if trying to see the dark curse he was sure was already affecting him. He stayed pressed against his bedroom door, unmoving, for an unknown amount of time. As the sun started rising, the daylight gradually chased away the shadows in Harry's bedroom, illuminating his still unmoving form. Harry's mind was racing as he tried to work out who could have possibly sent him the alarming package. Was it friend or foe? It seemed more likely that it would have been the latter, but then why was he still alive? He'd touched the books yet they seemed to have had no effect on him.

Harry spied the forgotten letter, which was still laying harmlessly on his desk and couldn't help berating himself for his stupidity. Maybe Snape had been right about him all along: he really was a dunderhead. Why hadn't he thought to check that the parcel had actually been from Dumbledore? Surely, if nothing else, he would have been able to tell from the handwriting: Dumbledore's calligraphy was very distinctive after all. Cursing the fact that he wasn't allowed to perform magic out of school, Harry sunk down onto his bed, his head falling into his hands: merlin, he really hoped he hadn't been cursed!

Checking his clock, Harry realized that over an hour had passed since he had opened the package and nothing had actually happened to him. Breathing a sigh of relief, he allowed himself to take another look at the books he'd received. He could see that some of the pages had obviously been marked for him, peaking his curiosity: it seemed that someone was trying to tell him something. Thinking that it might be important and having established that he wouldn't be dropping dead anytime soon, Harry decided that reading the letter would be worth the risk.

Telling himself that everything would be ok, Harry slowly made his way to the desk and gingerly reached out to pick up the letter. As his hands made contact with the envelope, Harry closed his eyes, silently praying nothing would happen. Nothing did. More confident now, he turned the letter over and noticed that it had been sealed with a snake emblem. A very ominous feeling washed over him, Harry was suddenly almost certain that he knew who the mysterious sender was. Taking a deep breath, he debated with himself on what to do next. Did he actually want to confirm his suspicions? However, as usual, his curiosity won out and, with a sigh, he pulled out the letter. He'd been right:

To Harry James Potter,

How does one address a letter to a boy that he has tried to kill on many occasions in the past? And how to get said boy to listen to what one has to say? Quite a troubling conundrum, wouldn't you agree? I suppose all I can do is hope that you continue to read this, as the information I want to tell you is very important.

In my youth I decided that I wanted to achieve immortality. As I am sure you are aware, since I mentioned this in my speech in the graveyard, I have gone to great lengths to accomplish this. However, what you don't know is how I made myself immortal.

You will find, along with this letter, some of my most treasured books: I hope you treat them well. I have marked the sections you need to read in order to learn what no one else knows about me: the secret to my eternal life. You must be wondering what my motives are in sharing this information with you, the thought that this might be a trick will have no doubt crossed your mind, but I assure you that I am not lying. After all, why should I lie when the truth is already so satisfying?

While you read Harry, I ask that you think of our connection and I'm sure that you'll find answers to questions you hadn't even thought to ask. Most importantly, you will finally understand why Dumbledore is refusing to train you, keeping you in the dark, leaving you a sheep to be slaughtered at the opportune moment.

Lord Voldemort

Releasing a shaky breath, Harry picked up Magick Moste Evil with trembling hands. Flipping to the marked page, he begun reading the chapter entitled: 'The Horcrux'. By the time he was finished reading, Harry felt sick: how could any sane person want to create such a thing? He guessed Voldemort had never been the sanest person out there.

Shaking his head in disgust, Harry picked up the other book that he'd dropped on the ground, Secrets of the Darkest Arts. The chapter marked in this book was titled 'The Horcrux: The keeper of the Soul'.

Harry's stomach tightened with each sentence he read. At first he was in denial, but then he couldn't help but see the truth in the words written before him. Voldemort had said: 'Why should I lie when the truth is so much more satisfying?' With a cry of anguish, Harry threw the book across the room and watched it hit the wall with a loud thump.

"BOY!" his uncle's roar was soon followed by the heavy pounding of feet as Vernon approached the door. When he barged in, purple faced and heaving from his rush to reach his nephew's room, he found Harry sitting motionless on the ground.

"How dare you make such a ruckus at this time in the morning?" Vernon hauled Harry up from the floor and Harry's vision was suddenly invaded by his uncle's enraged, blotchy face.

"What freakish things have you been doing now?" asked Vernon, spit flying everywhere, including Harry's face.

"Well Boy? answer me!"

Harry remained quiet, still in shock. Not receiving an answer, Vernon started shaking Harry, but it wasn't until Vernon slapped him that Harry realised that his uncle was even in the room.

"Sorry, Uncle Vernon" Harry said, that being the first thing that popped into his mind, knowing how to appease his uncle after years of experience.

"You should be, you little freak! Now get downstairs and make breakfast!" Harry silently made his way to the kitchen: despite how much he wanted to, he didn't think it would be wise to tell his uncle that it was more likely that he'd been the one to wake everyone up with his ranting and raving.

The following hours were a blur for Harry as he stoically went through the motions of his daily chores. It was only when he was back in his room, later that night, that he was hit with the full impact of what Voldemort had shown him. He sat down on his bed and pulled his legs up to his chest, tucking them under his chin, eyes fixed on the wall in front of him as it all started to sink in.

He was a horcrux: he had a piece of Voldemort's soul inside of him.

You finally understand Harry. You are mine, you have always been mine. And Dumbledore knew this! He wanted me to kill you, my own Horcrux. When do you think he was planning on telling you? When was he going to ask you to die?

Voldemort was right: Dumbledore must have known! This was the reason why Dumbledore refused to train him, why he never told him anything.

'He wants me to die', thought Harry. For years, Dumbledore had been pretending to care about him, when all along he was setting him up. His greatest ally, his most formidable protector, turned out to be his biggest betrayer. A burning wave of anger and hatred swept over Harry: 'How dare that man pretend to understand him, to love him even, when behind his back he had already sentenced him to death!'

Yesss… He's kept you in the dark, pushed you down and you never even tried to get back up. You followed him blindly, and if not for me, he would have led you all the way into Death's embrace. But now you know the truth Harry. What will you do with this information? Will you stay where you are, Dumbledore's weapon, to be used and then disposed of, or will you leave the Light and forge a new path for yourself?

'NO!' Harry internally screamed. He was not going to sit around waiting to be killed. He would disappear, retreat into the shadows: he would wait, he would learn, he would observe, and when the time was right he would have his revenge. He would show those who would have expected him to die to save their own lives that he wasn't a martyr and never would be.

How very Slytherin of you Harry, but how are you planning on leaving that house without alerting the Order and the old coot of your departure? How will you stop them from following you?

'That would indeed be a problem' Harry thought. An even bigger problem would be finding somewhere to go. Grimmauld Place was out of the question: he'd literally just given Dumbledore permission to house the Order there. He'd take that house back one day, but for the moment he didn't want Dumbledore to realise that he had lost his Golden Boy. The Weasleys were out of the question as they were far too close to Dumbledore so he wasn't sure he could trust them. He would have to go somewhere the Order would never think to look for him. He also wanted a place where he could learn and train without any distractions, a place where they would not disapprove of the types of magic he was interested in, a place where the underage restrictions would be nullified. There was really only one option: it seemed that he would be moving to Knockturn Alley.

It's amusing to watch your brain work, Harry. You are by no means unintelligent, as I had been told. Hmm… an interesting choice, Knockturn Alley. One, I also made, many years ago, for similar reasons. You are not going dark on me, are you Harry? What would the Wizarding World say? But, more importantly, how do you expect to get to Knockturn Alley without anyone knowing?

Harry was momentarily stumped, but not for long. He already knew when each of the Order members were on duty: they were so unsubtle it wasn't even funny. He would just have to wait until Mundungus was on duty, which was usually at night, and then he could slip out. He was sure that Mundungus wouldn't even realise that someone was leaving the house, let alone that it was him. The only problem was that he couldn't use magic, so carrying his trunk around without drawing attention to himself would be difficult. He also wasn't sure he could trust the Knight Bus employees to not give him away when people came looking for him.

There are other options out there, Harry. I'm sure you already know that you only have to ask and you shall receive.

'Why should I trust you? I may be your horcrux, but you are still the last person I would go to for help. I still don't know what your motives are, what you want from me, nothing good I'm sure. I refuse to free myself from one manipulator only to be entrapped by another one. Thanks, but no thanks.'

Harry I have never asked you to trust me. But let me ask you this instead: surely you don't think I'd want my own horcrux entrenched so badly in the light side, practically in my enemies grasp?

'That's a good point', thought Harry. Yes, it is a good point indeed, Harry. And as for what I want from you, it's really quite simple: I want you to assure me that you have completely left the Light side and that you will no longer attempt to fight against myself or my Death Eaters. In return I will, of course, promise to stop trying to kill you.

'So you will help me get out of here and then what? You'll leave me alone as long as I assure you that I won't come after you? It seems too easy… what's the catch?'

There's no catch, Harry. My helping you escape from Dumbledore's grasp is beneficial for us both. And I never said that I would be leaving you entirely on your own: I said I would stop fighting you, but you are still my horcrux so I will want to know where you are at all times in case I ever need to find you. There are also things you need to learn in order to protect my horcrux: I won't see it destroyed because you don't know enough about magic to defend yourself.

Though Harry didn't like the fact that Voldemort wanted to know where he was all the time, he couldn't see much else wrong with this deal. He could pretty much do whatever he wanted, which was already a huge improvement from his current imprisonment, curtesy of Dumbledore. And he'd be stupid to turn down training from Voldemort himself. Ironic really: the enemy he'd originally needed to train to defeat, would be the one to teach him how to protect himself. But Voldemort wasn't really his enemy, not anymore. Don't get him wrong, he didn't trust him, not in the least, but the man had acquired a lot of knowledge over the years and Harry wanted to learn all of it. However, Harry didn't think he was ready to see him in person just yet: it would feel too much like he was changing sides, which he had no intention of doing. The fact that he wasn't Dumbledore's puppet anymore didn't mean that he would become Voldemort's. Feeling like he was making a deal with the devil, Harry thought:

'Voldemort, if you help me get out of here and safely to Knockturn Alley, I will promise you that I will stop actively fighting you and your minions. I mean it when I say that I don't want any part of this war. Just because I am distancing myself from Dumbledore and his Order, doesn't mean that I am willing to join you. You will leave me alone and I will tell you where I am. If you want me to learn more advanced magic, send me the books and I will teach myself. I'll let you know if I have any problems with the texts, but I don't have to see you for us to communicate so there is no reason for us to meet at any time. Is this fine with you?'

I see no problems with this. I haven't asked you to join me, my only wish has been for you to step aside, which you have now agreed to do. I am currently happy sending you books for you to learn from, but this may not always be enough and you will be having lessons with me via our link: that is not up for debate. You are my Horcrux, Harry, which means that you belong to me. I am allowing you a lot of freedom, but eventually I will be wanting to test your skill level and, when that time comes, you will present yourself to me.

Harry frowned darkly at the fact that Voldemort considered him his property. Deciding to let it go for now, opting to deal with Voldemort's possessiveness once he'd gotten away from Privet Drive, he reluctantly agreed to Voldemort's conditions: 'Alright. I can deal with that', he thought, 'so when and how will you get me out of here?'

I will send my owl with everything you'll need, including a new identity and instructions on how to construct a suitable disguise: you can't go walking around Knockturn Alley as Harry Potter. I will also inform all my Death Eaters that you are not to be harmed; however, it's not only them you have to worry about. Though the alley offers some protection, the Ministry and the Order can still find you there if you are wondering around as yourself, so always stick to your disguise, keep your head down and stay out of trouble. Now that's all settled, I will give you one last chance to change your mind. I want you to make this decision with the understanding that you won't be able to return to Hogwarts in the foreseeable future and that you will be forced to stop all contact with your friends. Are you prepared to do that?

As much as he would miss Hogwarts, Harry had no problems giving it up if it meant he could get away from Dumbledore's manipulations: he loved the school, but he valued being alive more. Ron and Hermione were another matter entirely, one he hadn't even considered until that moment: could he really give up their friendship, which meant the world to him? And what about Lupin? Would he be disgusted by Harry's choices? Would any of them be able to understand and accept Harry's decision to leave the war? Would they have wanted him to stay and sacrifice himself because Dumbledore and a stupid prophecy said he had to? He was worried that none of them would understand his decision, that they would see him as a traitor; better to leave them now before they turned on him. They would never have the same ideals as him. They, like Dumbledore, would expect him to die, but he would rather make a deal with Voldemort and survive. After all, wasn't that why Sirius and his parents had died, so that he could live? He would honour their sacrifice.

Very well then, Harry. You shall hear from me soon.

With those words Voldemort withdrew from his mind. Harry got off his bed and walked over to his window, looking up at the stars. He'd just made one of the biggest decisions of his life, one that would not only affect him but the entire Wizarding World and all he felt was relief. From the moment he'd stepped into the Wizarding World people had always been expecting things from him. At first he had tried, he'd tried being the Boy-Who-Lived for them, but nothing he did was ever good enough: they always wanted more. He had no more to give.

Riddle Manor

After withdrawing from Harry's mind Voldemort allowed a smirk to grow on his face, his eyes shining triumphantly. Letting the smirk morph into a smile, he uncharacteristically begun to laugh. It wasn't his usual high pitched cackle, but a genuine, deep laugh.

Now that Potter had decided to step down from the war, it would only be matter of time before victory was his. The old fool wouldn't know what hit him until the very end. Oh the pleasure he will take in seeing Dumbledore's face when he finally realized that he'd failed, that the boy he'd put all his faith in had turned his back on him. The-Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One, The Wizarding World's Saviour, had abandoned them all: Harry Potter would rather watch the world fall into the hands of his parent's murderer, than die for them.

Voldemort had underestimated the boy: he was far more Slytherin than he had ever thought possible.

When he first entertained the idea of informing Potter of his status as a horcrux, Voldemort had been sure that the Gryffindor stupidity, braveness and selflessness Harry seemed to possess would cause the boy to do something reckless, such as sacrificing himself on Dumbledore's word, getting himself killed.

He thought he would have his work cut out for him, that it would take a lot of time, patience and silent manipulations to merely get the boy to listen to him, let alone to agree to go along with his plans.

Therefore, he couldn't have been happier when he'd dropped into Harry's mind to find that Dumbledore had already done all the work for him: this time he really had struck gold!

Harry had already started to lose trust in Dumbledore. The boy seemed to have had enough of his lies and manipulations: he'd already been on the verge of breaking all ties with the man before Voldemort had even spoken to him. And then, today, Harry had shocked him again: who would have thought that the Boy-Who-Lived was hiding such a dark side.

Voldemort initially thought that at best he might be able to persuade the boy to withdraw from the war, but now, now he could see Potter coming over to his side. The boy was already half way there: he just needed a nudge to push him the rest of the way and Voldemort was more than happy to oblige. He was no longer merely entertaining the idea: he would have the boy on his side.

Leaving his study, Voldemort found Wormtail in the hallway who, upon seeing his master, immediately fell to his knees. Voldemort looked at him in disgust, barely pausing to order him to follow him as he strode down the corridor. Wormtail let out a meek: "yes, my Lord", before scampering after him.

Since his resurrection, Voldemort had made many changes in his father's old mansion, adding extensions here and there to accommodate his Death Eaters who had nowhere else to go mostly due to the fact that they were wanted by the Ministry. The ballroom had been turned into a meeting room and a rather large and impressive dungeon had been built to house his many prisoners. Bellatrix in particular, enjoyed this latest addition to the manor and she could often be found in there, terrorising the inmates, her cackles echoing off the walls.

The manor no longer looked like it was falling apart, seemingly fighting a losing battle against the surrounding vegetation; instead, it was in a better condition than ever, standing proudly at the top of the hill, an imposing figure looming over the unsuspecting town of Little Hangleton. With a few house elves to look after it, Riddle manor could now be aptly described as a Dark Fortress, fit for a Dark Lord. Voldemort refused to live in hovel: he had standards and an image to keep. Perhaps his pathetic muggle father had been good for something after all.

Reaching the meeting room, Voldemort swiftly crossed the wide, open space to sit on his throne. Casually leaning back, looking every bit the Dark Lord that he was, Voldemort's gaze found Wormtail who was hovering about, looking every bit the pest that he was. Beckoning him closer and instructing him to give him his left arm, Voldemort pressed a long finger against Wormtail's Dark Mark, summoning his Death Eaters. He didn't have to wait long for them to arrive, a chorus of popping noises echoing around the room as his minions apparated in.

Before long, Voldemort was sitting before a sea of black robes and white masks: Hundreds of wizards and witches ready to follow his every command without question, his ranks had indeed grown since his return.

The Death Eaters were furtively glancing around, looking slightly confused and apprehensive upon realising that it was a full meeting: Voldemort seldom called meetings with all his Death Eaters, preferring to meet them in smaller groups. Each group would only be given the information pertinent to their part of the mission and none of the Death Eaters were ever aware of the bigger picture. Voldemort liked to keep his plans to himself, to only be revealed at the last moment. This also helped him in identifying traitors and making it difficult for any ambitious Death Eaters to try rebelling against him in the hope of overthrowing him.

Rising from his throne, Voldemort smiled sinisterly at the crowd and began speaking:

"Welcome, my friends. It's been barely a year since my return to full power and in that time we have become stronger in spirit, will and endurance. We have grown in ranks and in skill. I see before me witches and wizards ready to sacrifice themselves to cleanse our world of the filth and taint that has been blemishing it for far too long now. But that is not all we are fighting for. We fight to end the discrimination against the Dark Arts; we fight in the hope that one day our children will be able to practice Dark magic without fear; we fight to restore the balance between Light and Dark magic, for one cannot exist without the other. Everyone of us here tonight is Dark, the Darkness runs within our blood. They tried to take our heritage from us, our traditions, our very being. The Light has been in power for too long, how much more will we allow them to take from us?

Voldemort paused to take a breath, scanning his followers' faces, gauging their reactions, before continuing: 'have we not suffered enough because of their prejudiced views? We have! But no longer! We've tried going about it the diplomatic way, but it didn't work. We are out of options so instead we will have to fight to reclaim our position, to bring back our traditions and to remind the Wizarding World that there is nothing wrong with being Dark!"

Loud cheers met Voldemort's impassioned speech as energy and excitement seemed to fill the room, the air buzzing in anticipation as the Death Eaters awaited their next orders, eager to begin restoring Dark magic's status in Wizarding society.

"Tonight, my loyal followers, we will step out into the open and strike fear into the heart of the opposition. Recently, I have acquired the location of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones, as well as Dumbledore's lackey and Order of the Phoenix Member, Emmeline Vance. Tonight they shall die", Voldemort paused to allow the Death Eaters' excited whispers to die out as they settled down.

"Finally, these two simultaneous attacks will provide the perfect opportunity to grab Ollivander. But let me make one thing very clear: he is not to be harmed. I also want a smaller team to attack an important muggle location, London Bridge, to create more chaos and provide another distraction.

"Without further ado, break up into your squadrons. Bellatrix you will be in charge of bringing me Ollivander. And do try to play nice my dear, I will be most displeased should anything happen to the wand maker. I want you to take your niece Cassiopeia with you as she needs more field time. Fenrir you and your mangy crew shall also accompany her: stir things up in Diagon Alley to give Bella more time. Rockwood you will take your team into muggle London; Yaxley, Travers and I will be disposing of the esteemed Madame Bones; and Dolohov I want you to take care of Vance with Rowle, who'll be replacing Lucius for the time being, as he is currently indisposed", a few laughs rung out across the room at Malfoy's expense.

"Master, what about Snape?" inquired Rowle, knowing that he was next in line to take a position of leadership after Lucius.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, his wand suddenly appearing in his hand. "Crucio!" he screamed. Rowle collapsed to the ground, limbs flaying about, a loud scream escaping his lips. Voldemort cancelled the curse after a few seconds, the rest of the Death Eaters all looking intently at the ground trying not to attract their Lord's attention.

"NO one, and I mean NO ONE, will ever mention SEVERUS SNAPE in my presence again. He is a traitor of the worst kind and I want him brought to me, preferably alive so that I can have the pleasure of ending his life. Unless you are bringing me news of his demise, I don't want to hear another word about him" Voldemort snarled, glaring angrily at his Death Eaters who meekly nodded their heads, too scared to say or do anything else.

"I knew it! I knew all along that he was a traitor, half-blood filth", screeched Bellatrix with disgust.

"Bella", warned Voldemort. She looked up at him unapologetically, but wisely kept her mouth shut. "Now, before I dismiss those of you who will not be taking part in tonight's attack, there is one more thing that I need discuss with you", Voldemort paused for a moment, to make sure he had their complete attention: "From this day forward, Harry Potter will be under my protection. This means that if any of you even think about harming him in any shape or form, you will be answering directly to me. Rest assured that should you injure him in anyway, I will kill you. There are no exceptions: he is off limits."

The silence in the meeting room was deafening: you could have heard a needle drop. The Death Eaters were glancing at each other gobsmacked, not believing that they'd heard their master correctly.

"But why master? Why would you protect him?" asked Bella completely baffled. The surrounding Death Easters nodding in agreement and mumbling in disbelief.

"Suffice to say, that I have come across some very important information regarding myself and the boy. Information that has made me realise that attacking him would be like attacking myself. Because of this, both Potter and I are in agreement that it will be beneficial for the both of us to cease fighting each other. He has not joined our side, but he has agreed to remain neutral for the time being and I will respect his decision. I will say no more on the matter." Voldemort felt no need to explain himself any further. His wish to convert Potter to his side would remain his own. "Those who will not be participating in tonight's mission may now leave."

Moments later Voldemort was left with his most faithful. He smiled cruelly: "Let's go remind the world why they are scared to even mention my name. Go forth my Death Eaters and bring me victory!" With those words, Voldemort disapparated, quickly followed by his Death Eaters, leaving the room empty once more.

AN: Please review and let me know your thoughts. I really gladden for all my new followers, Thank you for taking the time to read my work. Next chapter will be posted next Friday!