Yeah... this is chapter 3. Without the song, yeah... Who was the idiot who said that songfics are bad again? All the songfics I've seen merely spur people to get the CDs (example, "Gutterflower" by Lady Yami Bakura, which used Goo Goo Dolls songs). And what would you gain from using the lyrics here anyway? Certainly not money.

Vaness: Ohh, Seto-kun is SO cute, especially with his hips in the TV ending of Ano Hi no Gogo!

...yeah, she's still like that. For those who don't know what she's talking about, search on the net (go to Kokoro no Naka or Janime), or buy the Japanese version of Yu-Gi-Oh! ;D

And by the way, I got a beta reader and a duel writer! Yay! Say hi to Isis the Sphinx, my beta reader, and my duel writer doesn't want to be known. D: But of course, his duel will come later.

Spoiler alert, but if you don't know the Pharaoh's name by now you must be severely lacking.

By the way, 'aibou' is a term used by Yuugi and Yami to address each other.

Oh yes, and I reuploaded this chapter. I had to change it a bit. That's why you saw the author alert for those who have it for me.

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Japanese names to dub names: Malik – Marik, Jounouchi (Jou) – Joey, Seto – Kaiba, Ryou – Bakura, Sugoroku – Grandpa (Solomon? Who knows?), Otogi – Duke Devlin, Isis – Ishizu, Shizuka – Serenity, Honda – Tristan, Anzu – Teá.

Key:

(( )) - yami to hikari

( )- hikari to yami

" " - speech

' ' - thoughts

Italics - letters, newspaper articles, emphasized words etc.

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Chapter 3 –

"Yami, Yami, Yami... Oh Dear..."

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((Aibou...))

((Aibou...?))

((Aibou...!))

Yami was quickly jolted from his hopeless efforts to reach his hikari as his body reached solid ground.

Wait... he had a body? Wasn't Yami himself just a spirit with no physical form? And yet his back colliding with the floor had hurt. Badly. Looking around him, Yami saw just solid walls. A suspicion started to form itself, and as he looked up to see the walls narrowing into the ceiling it confirmed itself: he was in a gourd.

But why would someone do that? Why had they separated him from his hikari in the first place? Somebody must have wanted him for something... but of course, he had nothing, except the title of Game King. And even that was supposed to be Yuugi's. Even if he didn't understand any of it, his expression hardened. 'They may have me, for whatever purpose, but they sure won't keep me. I won't be separated from Yuugi and the others.'

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Lord Voldemort strode into the dungeons purposefully. He intended to make the most of his prisoner, and licked his lips with the anticipation of the power the spirit would give him – and God knew he needed the power. His 'faithful' inner circle followed him wherever they went, but Lord Voldemort knew as much as anybody that when given a chance to betray him and move on to more 'glorious' plans, they would take it without hesitating.

And if there was one thing that the Death Eaters were wrong about, it was that Muggles were defenseless. Voldemort knew first hand what Muggles could do...

"Mum... Mum...!" the 3-year-old Tom Riddle cried as his mother slumped to the ground, bowled over in pain, one arm missing and face pouring with blood. "MOTHER!" he cried again as she was subsequently blown to pieces, ridding her of her pain. Bombs rained down from massive monstrosities above. It was the Second World War. Devastation was everywhere. Tom could have safely assumed that he was the only survivor in the unexpected bomb attack of the tiny village of Courney. His friends Eric and Karl were gone. The whole village was gone. Everything was gone. All gone.

And after that...

"Hey, Shorty," a voice snarled, and Tom's heart sank. Turning round fearfully, he found the orphanage's most feared bully, Evan McTulsh looking at him. "W-w-w-what?" he asked, his voice quavering. "We wanna have some fun with you," McTulsh grinned and showed his sharp teeth. Tom tried to escape, maybe to a sister or something, but he just wasn't fast enough. Evan McTulsh's cronies brought a kicking Tom into his room.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

But of course, McTulsh eventually paid the price.

Tom as an 10-year-old thought back on those memories, his trembling right hand holding his letter from Hogwarts. 'So... I'm special?' he though. 'I'm different? I can do magic? I'm... a wizard?' His face hardened. 'I would have thought I wasn't a normal human. I'm not as cruel as that.'

"Hey, Shorty!" Evan McTulsh was back. He wasn't accompanied by his 'bodyguards', but both he and Tom knew that if they were both to fight, the larger, bulkier McTulsh would easily win. McTulsh lunged towards Tom suddenly and grabbed him by the cuff, but this time, Tom was not afraid. He was different. He could do magic. He was a wizard!

Suddenly wrenching himself free from McTulsh, he felt red-hot hatred well up from his heart. "Never will you hurt me ever again," Tom stated with ringing clarity. Then he suddenly let loose a blast of power he never knew he had. He would never recollect this incident perfectly later on, but he knew he had seen a blinding green light. Tom, still slightly confused, stared at McTulsh's smoking body falling rather unnaturally at a graceful arc towards the floor. Then he grinned.

And he laughed.

"My lord, we are here." Voldemort was suddenly brought back into reality. Shaking his head dazedly, he quickly set up all his barriers and mental guards again, cursing himself. Why did he choose that time to dwell in his memories...? He continued to walk ahead before finally stopping at a cell. He had to focus; there was an Egyptian spirit to interrogate. Entering the cell, he held up a hand to stop his servants from entering.

"I ask that you leave," he said icily. "We have some... business to discuss."

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((It's OK, aibou, it will be okay,)) Yami reassured his hikari. Or rather, imagined he reassured his hikari. ((I'll think of a way to get out of here. I'll return to you and all our friends. No matter what it takes.))

Suddenly, he sensed a presence appearing in the gourd. "Come to kill me now?" he asked with a hard tone, not turning his head. Then his head turned to face the presence.

"Please face a person when you address him," a hooded figure robed entirely in black said silkily. "It's only polite, after all. I have some very pressing business with you which we must discuss now."

"...yeah," Yami said very intelligently. The figure reminded him of the Ghouls, the Rare Card Hunters back into Battle City. Now, before you go laugh at him, I wonder what you would have said had you been captured in a gourd, defenseless and confused, and a Ghoul-lookalike had just turned your head for you?

"Getting to the point," the hooded figure continued, "you possess extraordinary power. I have come to offer you two options: one, work with me and aid us with your power, and two, refuse and get killed." He suddenly laughed, a chilling sound. "Oh dear," he remarked. "I seem to have forgotten to give you my name. I am Lord Voldemort; remember that. Of course, I know who you are, Atemu."

That stopped Yami's poor, confused heart and put him on guard. If that strange person... 'Lord Voldemort' knew his Egyptian name... things could get very complicated indeed. However, he kept his face impassive, not letting the uncertainty show on his face, and replied smoothly, "I'm sorry, I'm sure you must be mistaken. I am merely Mutou Yuugi, an ordinary Japanese student who works part-time for a card shop. I don't know anything about this 'Atemu' and I certainly don't have any power."

Voldemort laughed. "You won't be saying those amusing things when I'm done with you, Muggle." He spat out the word 'Muggle' with hatred and contempt, reminding Yami of how Yami Malik had addressed him as 'Pharaoh' back in their duel. "I'm being very generous already, you know. There aren't many wizards of our kind who would treat a Muggle decently like I am right now."

Yami spat on the ground. "Yeah, you're being really decent right now," he said sarcastically. "Locking me up in a gourd, controlling my body for me and not even saying please and thank you."

"Politeness will get you everywhere, Atemu. Do try to reconsider our offer, why don't you? After all... I want your power, and I will have it no matter what."

Lord Voldemort then turned around and walked away, robes billowing up, making dust swirl off the floor.

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The youth looked up from his bed, annoyed, as a house elf nervously entered the room. "Master wishes to see you in the dungeons, young lord..." the elf quavered. He sighed with annoyance and closed his book, then asked, "What does Father want to do with me?"

"I d-don't know, young lord..." the elf replied. "Master said he had a test for you." The youth raised an eyebrow. A test, eh? This would be interesting... He walked down the stairs to the dungeons.

"Father," he said respectfully, bowing. "Son," his father acknowledged, then continued. "Son, you will be a sixth-year soon. After two more years of education, you will be ready to join our lord." His glance flickered over to what was behind him, and the youth's eyes followed suit.

Two Muggle teenage girls. Hugging each other fiercely, they stared fearfully but with a trace of defiance. One was blonde, had glasses (and thus looked clever), and wore her hair in a ponytail, and the other was a brunette who had a multitude of piercings who the youth could almost picture grinning brashly, had the circumstances been otherwise.

"That is why," his father said, "I think you will need some training. Well?" he finished, smiling and the youth barely suppressed a shudder. He had to kill them? He had been brought up to believe that Muggles were uncivilized, heathen creatures, not these – dare he think it? – rather appealing little things. He let his gaze dwell on the two girls, who looked at him with pleading eyes, not daring to believe that this boy would be the cause of their deaths. The first girl probably got the best marks in class, he thought, and from the looks of the second one, she probably goes to those parties. He wondered briefly what kind of parties she went to, and failed to conceal a slight reddening of his cheeks.

The youth's father noticed his hesitation, and frowned. "I know it's hard," he finally said after a moment of silence. "You find yourself personifying them. But son, Muggles are what the world doesn't need. The world would be a better place without them. They don't deserve the world!"

"We deserve it as much as you do!" the blonde said indignantly, but was silenced by a quick Crucio. A sharp intake of breath escaped her mouth and she gritted her teeth, but otherwise did not react. The pretty brunette stared at her with concern, but did not dare to comfort her.

Wait. Pretty? What was he thinking? She was a Muggle. Vermin. Inferior. No, there was no way a Muggle could be pretty.

'Deni-al!' a tiny voice sang gleefully at the back of his head. 'You have a crush on her! Just lo-ok!" He hesitated again, and his father's eyes narrowed. "Don't play fool on me, son," he said. "It may be hard, but the first time is always hard."

Silence from the youth. His brain was in turmoil. He'd heard so many glorious stories about being in the circle since childhood, and had grown up believing that he would be a loyal member of said circle He had gone through his first five years of Hogwarts despising Muggles and Muggleborns, especially that know-it-all Granger and the busybody Creevey. But killing Muggles... he had never thought about it before. Greedily sucking up the promises of glory that his parents had told him, he had dreamed of being Lord Voldemort's most prized Death Eater. But could he kill Granger? Could he kill Creevey? Could he kill Muggles?

"No," he said.

"What was that?" his father asked silkily, and his son caught the venom behind it. The youth knew hell would come when his reply came out of his mouth, but the thought of killing innocents... Killing people like those two girls... he couldn't do it.

"No," he repeated with more confidence than he was feeling. "I'm not even touching them, Father."

His father smiled grimly. "Well then..." he snarled, expression changing instantly, "let's see your answer... after a few days of persuasion."

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Yami would never really how it happened afterwards. All he remembered was that it was the day after he had first been brought in the gourd. He had been sitting languidly, thinking about nothing in particular, when the sound of an angry man furiously making his way down the hall jolted him away from his daze. Seconds later, the man entered his cell, and that's when the whole thing started.

"Crucio!" he snarled and Yami felt instant pain. "W-w-what?" he gasped. "Who are you? Wasn't I given some time to think?"

"I'm not aware of anything like that!" the man yelled. "All I know is that this is the dungeon for lesser prisoners, so you must not be very important!" The pain intensified, splitting into Yami like daggers striking his flesh repeatedly. He still refused to show weakness however, and clenched his teeth.

"Are you sure?" Yami asked, gasping. "You wouldn't really want to anger your master, would you?"

"Keep quiet, you Muggle!" the man screamed. "You're a Muggle and I'm a wizard, and I can do with you whatever I want! Now why don't you just shut up and scream?"

"I can only assume a Muggle is someone who can't do those sorts of spells," Yami said, smirking weakly. "In that case, I am not a Muggle. I am far from being one, in fact."

"Whatever," the man replied, smirking, seeming to have recovered from whatever that had been agitating him earlier on. "You can babble all you want, Muggle, but I've already decided. You are going to die now, and when you die you will be in as much pain as possible."

Then Yami suddenly came down the most powerful headache he had ever had. It was as if a force had entered his skull and had wrapped around his brain. It was impossible, even with these peoples' fancy tricks... or at least it seemed to be.

Yami was no longer in any doubt of its possibility when the force squeezed.

But still Yami did not scream.

"You are a tough nut, aren't you," the man said, grinning. "This will make breaking you all the more fun."

Yami's eye merely twitched in pain in response to that, and, irked by the lack of response, the man continued, "I bet you have friends huh, Muggle? I wonder what they're like? Are they as stupid as you?"

"I won't react to that, and you know it," Yami said wearily.

"Will them come save you, hmm?" the man asked. "Would they dare? Or do they not even care? Are they just nuzzling in the laps of their girlfriends, watching as your girlfriend makes out with another man?" He intensified his Crucio.

Yami clenched his mouth shut tightly, his eyes glowing crimson. He wasn't even listening to the man now, too busy trying to force down the scream that was rising, bubbling, no exploding from his throat, brought on by fatigue, the shock of separation from Yuugi and repeated Crucios. But everybody has a breaking point, and, resilient as Yami was, this was his.

He screamed.

But it wasn't an ordinary scream. It wasn't a scream of fear or realization, or even a scream of pain and anguish. He screamed louder than any prisoner had ever screamed before, and no wonder, as this scream had come straight from Hell. Souls of people whose voices had never been given a chance to be heard used Yami's scream as a form of escape. Innocent people who were executed. Jews during World War II. Perhaps even the people of Kur'elna.

The scream was felt all over the world. Crystals shattered, magical creatures fled, and people evacuated buildings by the dozens. Ghosts and other spiritual beings all over the world heard the scream and shuddered, wondering what had happened. A power has been let out on the world, they concluded, a power that has never been seen before.

Such was the power of Yami's scream that the gourd started cracking.

The man finally stopped and watched with horrific fascination as that tiny, insignificant crack traveled slowly up the gourd until it reached the top. He would never tell anyone what it was like, simply because he would never exist in the world anymore. The gourd exploded in blinding red light, and the spirit of the Pharaoh broke free of its chains. "Hell yeah," it said. "I'm free. And you'll all pay."

Its eyes glowing redder than ever before, the spirit unleashed waves and waves of pure power on the man's body, watching with satisfaction as it jerked around. "The things that the Pharaoh did weren't even considered powerful! Punishment games? Hah! Shadow Games? Too easy!" the spirit mocked scornfully. "The Pharaoh's true power... he sealed his power in me."

And then the new Yami, the part of Yami that had always been sealed inside Yami's Puzzle, the part of Yami even Yami himself didn't dare let out, disappeared into the darkness.

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D: Sorry it took so darned long guys! I had a month full of tests, homework, projects and whatnot. Easter holiday is coming on April 8, however, and since I have passed the hard bit (the next bits are easier than this to string together) updates WILL be quicker, yay!

And yes, I ditched the whole Yami's past thing.