Disclaimer: MIIINE

Jk, rowling on the floor laughing~

Warning: M for slash (HP/TMRLV), Post-GoF, slightly insane and definitely dark Harry

"Normal dialogue"

*Parseltongue*

'Thoughts'

"You're saying that a two-year-old was smart enough to speak in straight sentences and threaten adults."

The Dark Lord was leaning on the edge of a large mahogany table, arms and legs crossed. He looked disbelievingly at the boy sitting comfortably - too comfortably in his opinion - in front of him; Harry started talking in a sitting position but gradually moved to lay his head on his crossed arms over the arm of his chair and then throwing his feet over the other arm.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" he asked impertinently, lifting his head a bit to stare at Tom.

Voldemort was too focused on the subject at hand to even get angry at Harry's tone

"Even if the said kid is a wizard and the threatened party is muggle, it is still absurd," he continued in a dubious tone.

Harry wriggled in his seat and shifted his position so he can lean on his elbows while holding his upper body aloft to see Tom clearly.

"It might be absurd but that doesn't make it any less possible. It happened, after all. I was the said two-year-old. But then again, it is me and I have this tendency to make 'impossible' things possible," Harry said airily, making air quotes at 'impossible.'

Tom scoffed. "As much as I would like to insult you on your over-inflated ego, I find that I'd rather hear explanations."

"Yet you had time to comment on my over-inflated ego," Harry pointed out.

"Explain, Potter," Tom growled dangerously.

"Alright, alright," Harry said seriously while smiling, hands raised in surrender. He stood up from his seat and stretched his arms above his head. His gray sweater rode up and a bit of skin showed. Tom's eyes flashed and narrowed.

"Don't think that I'm not aware of what you're doing," Tom warned.

"What are you talking about?" Harry's eyes widened in feigned innocence. He put his hands down at his sides and faced Tom fully.

"You have been constantly testing my limits since that night in the graveyard. What game are you playing at, Stoirm?"

Harry perked up. It was the first time Tom said his moniker without making it sound like an insult. There's no doubt that the Dark Lord had figured the meaning behind his alias, so why wasn't he saying it with distaste?

'Unbelievable. Could I actually be starting to gain the trust of the Dark Lord this early on?'

His work was finally bearing fruit and it would be terribly inconvenient to go back to square one so Harry hardened his resolve and decided to continue with caution.

"What makes you think I'm playing a game, my Lord? You already know about my masochism, so why can't I just be provoking you for the pleasure of enjoying the danger that comes with it?"

Well, with as much caution as he can. But apparently, it's not much.

Tom didn't expect a serious answer to begin with so he wasn't disappointed. It annoyed him, though, that Potter always knew how to avoid his questions and sidetrack him with other matters.

"Back to business! Are you not curious about the woes and worries of young Harry Potter?"

Like now.

Tom just jerked his head in permission for Harry to continue his tale. It would be better to remain quiet for the time being. He had too many questions and they wouldn't get anywhere if he voiced them and pestered the boy. He stood up from his perch on the desk to sit on the grand chair behind the large, mahogany table. He motioned for Harry to sit closer before interlocking his hands on top of the empty desk. Harry waved his hand and the chair he was previously sitting on glided directly in front of the large table and settled with a dull thump. Tom pointedly looked at Harry at the effortless use of wandless, not to mention nonverbal, magic. Harry simply smiled and shrugged. He sat smoothly down his chair, crossed his legs and continued telling his story.

"I was far, far, faaar too advanced for a kid my age and I was curious to know as to why. I pored over all the psychology books I could get my hands on and found cases similar to mine. But there was still something off. I was able to do hypnotism, telepathy, accidental telekinesis and even teleportion twice, all before I was four. At least that was how I called them before I knew about magic. Anyway, as my fourth birthday drew nearer, I was coming to a dead end. I've read hundreds of books and I was still clueless about my condition. That was when I voiced a silly little anecdote in front of the Dursleys. I muttered, verbatim, 'The only explanations left I could think of would be fairies sprinkling magic dust or aliens abducting and experimenting on a human specimen.' Can you guess what happened next?"

Harry's eyes seemed to glow and Tom could easily imagine those large green eyes shooting off the killing curse in a pair of light beams.

"My aunt, upon hearing the word 'magic,' fucking leapt like a dog at the opportunity to tell me something I seemed very interested in. She told me everything she knew. About my mother, her sister, being a muggleborn; about Hogwarts; how a certain Dark Lord killed my parents but failed to kill me; and how Albus Dumbledore left me in their care. Believe it or not, my first reaction wasn't grief or confusion. No, I was angry. Not at the 'bad wizard' who killed my biological parents, but at my Aunt and Uncle for forgetting telling me about something so important. But nothing I felt at that time could rival my anger at Albus fucking Dumbledore."

Not being able to control his anger anymore, Harry stood up and paced back and forth in front of the table.

"The old coot left a wizard on the doorstep of a muggle family. A family that abhorred magic so bad the mere mention of it would probably send them in a rage. A family that would consider killing the baby of a hated sister but too weak to have the guts to do so. I get so fucking furious every time I remember how they treated me during the first year of my stay. They abused the fact that I didn't cry or make any noise. They neglected me to the point of starvation! I was given water while I watched their bloody pig of a son consume gallons of milk. I was kept in the cupboard and when my cousin and I were old enough to chew solid food, I would be given a single slice of bread soaked in water daily while their boy gobbled down more food at two years old than I probably have ever eaten in my entire life.

"They hit me at times when they noticed me acting weird, which was almost all the time, and tested if I would finally make a sound. My uncle went as far as drowning me. But he backed out when he didn't even get the satisfaction of seeing me thrashing in the tub or attempting to loosen his hands around my neck. So he settled for beating me up. I never fought back because I knew for a fact that my uncle was stronger. Who would want to look like a pitiful idiot? If I were to die, I would do so with as much dignity as I could manage.

"Besides, I was positive death would be better compared to the monotonous life I was leading in the hands of my relatives. One night, when I was terribly hungrier than usual, I tried to nick food from the pantry. And surprise, surprise, I got caught," Harry rolled his eyes. "I received a specially bad beating and was literally thrown back in my cupboard. I curled up in my corner, basking in the by then familiar pain. It was much later when some of it subsided that I noticed a particularly painful spot on my right arm. Turned out a broken bone punctured my skin," Harry stopped pacing and stared directly at Tom.

He walked towards the table and bent forward to lean on his elbows. The desk was separating them so they weren't that close, but it was still close enough for Tom to notice the flecks of silver decorating Harry's bright emerald green eyes and the thin, black outline enclosing the colors in a circle. Slytherin colors.

Harry blinked and the short disappearance of those eyes pulled Tom back to the present. When Harry didn't receive any sign of disapproval from the Dark Lord at the close proximity, his smile widened further. He continued his narrative in a hushed tone.

"I was never really afraid of death. In fact, I thought of it as a gift to those who carried the burden of living. But that injury... The idea that something astiny as that wound was enough to drain my small, frail body of my blood and leave me an empty husk devoid of life...That was the wake-up call I so desperately needed. With the hallway light streaming through the slits in my door, the rich redness of my dripping blood looked beautiful. My sudden animalistic desire to live, the pounding of my heart, the rush of power in my veins; I have etched every single detail of that night in my mind," he gushed passionately, his eyes having that far-away quality you get when reminiscing. He returned to reality quickly enough and composed himself.

"The next thing I know, though, it was morning and my wound was completely healed. I would have thought that everything was just a dream if it wasn't for the barely visible crescent-shaped scar on my right inner arm that I was perfectly sure wasn't there before that morning. That was the first act of magic I remember performing but I wasn't aware of it at the time. I was determined to know what was happening so I made a plan. I learned the art of subtlety and avoided the Dursleys during the day and blended among the shadows as I crept around the house at night and practically inhaled every source of knowledge I could in the house and the internet. On my birthday, after almost three months of self-education, I decided to use my still unidentified powers on the Dursleys," Harry tilted his head to the side, his smile still in place and never fully leaving during his speech.

"And it worked," Tom stated.

"Yes, it did," Harry confirmed. "Thank goodness for that. I sometimes imagine what my situation would be like right now if I didn't take charge at an early age."

Both of them looked at each other and they seemed to be wondering about the same thing. Would Harry still be interested in joining the Dark Side then? Would Lord Voldemort still be hunting Harry Potter? Pointless what-ifs.

Dwelling on what could have been instead of what is was just a waste of time.

"So what did you do when you learned the truth about your wizarding ties and Dumbledore's actions?" Tom asked, eager to know more.

Harry shifted in a more comfortable position by turning around and pulling himself up near the corner of table and then leaning on his hands behind him.

"I asked my aunt to accompany me on a tour of London," Harry answered.

Tom raised his eyebrow. "What, did you decide to vent your anger by shopping?"

Harry chuckled and turned his head to stare at the elder man. "What have you got against shopping?"

Tom merely rolled his eyes and Harry's grin widened.

"For your information, I went there to spy. I was told that witches and wizards were just lurking among the crowd of muggles and that they were easy enough to spot. Why, I didn't even have to spot one! I just styled my hair in a fashion that would show my scar and they aprroached me like moths to a flame. They shook my hand and thanked me for something I wasn't even aware I did. I was the savior of the Wizarding World, evidently! A beacon of Light! Hah! How naive of them," Harry shook his head in exasperation.

"From there on out, it was an easy journey. I just followed every wizard or witch I can until one of them led me to Diagon Alley. I returned there everyday with my aunt, just walking around and absorbing information. After a week, I knew enough about the wizarding world to sound like a normal wizarding child if not pressed with too many questions. We went to Gringotts to check my account and was told that a key wasn't required if we can provide a drop of blood from the current owner. The goblins actually impressed me. They hid their surprise at seeing the name forming below the drop of my blood on the parchment well. They were very professional and informative and they answered my aunt's rehearsed questions in a straightforward manner. I discovered that Dumbledore was my magical guardian so every activity in my account would be reported back to him. It was too early for Dumbledore to realize that I was up and about so I willed my aunt to ask the goblins to keep our visit secret. They easily agreed but something in their look told me that they were wary of me. We went home and returned to Gringotts the next day with a sack full of Muggle currency. We had them converted and, as you have correctly guessed, went shopping," Harry smirked at this point.

"I bought, maybe quite literally, tons of books. I went home with a magical trunk with a perfect lightening charm and a huge walk-in library already filled to the brim and with only a few galleons left to spare in my pocket. After that trip, I didn't go out of the house for a whole year. My schedule mainly consisted of sleeping, eating, reading, practicing, and, since many of the things I learned required exceptional stamina, exercising. At five, I was old enough to safely try little glamours and I assumed the persona of a dwarf nomad called Grumpy-"

Tom laughed and Harry couldn't believe his ears. The Dark Lord was laughing! Real, human laugh, not the cold bark he would have expected from the man. Tom's laugh was light and pleasant, the kind that made you want to join laughing. He quickly sobered up but the corners of his mouth remained slightly upturned.

"In reference to the muggle fairy tale, Snow White?" he asked, eyes sparkling in mirth.

Harry can't help but smile, too. "Yes. I thought it was amusing."

Tom chuckled again and motioned for Harry to continue.

"Anyway. I used that form to explore wizarding London and acquire various objects; potion ingredients, books on the Dark Arts, questionable artifacts and the like. I've been using Grumpy for almost two years, which made me seven at the time, when I obtained a fairly expensive book on dark rituals during one of my trips in the murkier part of the market."

The light atmosphere suddenly cooled at the implication of what Harry said.

"Finally, after five years," Harry paused for effect. "I finally had a clue."

"Dumbledore?" Tom asked, genuinely astonished.

"Yes," Harry hissed. "Albus Dumbledore defiled a one-year-old baby and performed a blood ritual on my body without my parents' consent. Perhaps he wanted to make a human soldier, perhaps he had an acceptable reason, but it doesn't change the fact that Albus Dumbledore is a manipulative, narrow-minded hypocrite. I allowed my good sense to prevail and decided to reserve judgement until I met him at Hogwarts but it was all for naught. I found out, on my very first day, that I didn't like him at all. Not very long had passed before I loathed him completely," he ranted heatedly.

"How do you know all this?"

"As you already probably know, I'm a Legilimens. I also broke in the Headmaster's office to view his pensieve once."

"And have you discovered what ritual he performed on you?"

Harry snorted.

"The fool doesn't even know what he did! He thought one of the ingredients he used was quicksilver. What he didn't and still doesn't know is that he used the wrong item. Quicksilver and unicorn blood look virtually the same; idiots who can't differentiate will have a bad time. So instead of his intended outcome - where he and I would supposedly become mentor and student, bonded in a way that we'd start thinking alike as the mentor transfers teachings to the student - I actually underwent a ritual that halved the performer's remaining lifespan and wherein the life energy gets transformed into pure power, then transferred to the one under the ritual. The performed-on would be force-fed with the performer's basic knowledge and fundamentals."

"The 'Virtutem Vitae' found on page 758 of Valde Obscura Ritualibus," Tom cited in disbelief.

Harry raised his eyebrows for a moment before he laughed. "Oh, of course. You're the Dark Lord, I shouldn't be surprised that you know your obscure arts," he said, amused.

"You are proficient in Latin?"

"Yes. I studied it since many interesting books are written in Latin. Plus it helps in spell creation."

"I should have known," Tom sighed.

Harry caught himself in mid-chuckle and was honestly surprised at how fast he was feeling at ease in the Dark Lord's company.

"But it is surprising that you turned out Darkly-aligned when you received Dumbledore's fundamentals," Tom commented.

"Fundamentals are just fundamentals. I had a developed mind of my own and I had the capacity to choose sides. But I get your point. A child is easily influenced," he paused, then haughtily added "I guess I'm really special, then."

Tom didn't snort, scoff or roll his eyes as expected. "Yes, quite," he murmured instead, crimson eyes boring into Harry's.

Harry was half stunned, half amused at Tom's agreement. After a few seconds, Tom stood up and conjured a package wrapped in black silk and tied with a silver bow. The package landed on the table, near Harry's hand.

"Open it."

Harry tugged at the ribbon and a black cloak with a pointed hood greeted his sight. Hidden in the folds is a plain silver mask with two slits for the eyes. He caressed the fine material and looked at the Dark Lord, now in front of him, with a spirited expression.

"Aren't you going to search my mind, my Lord?" he asked.

"No," Tom simply replied. "You forget that I'm a talented legilimens," he pushed his point by attacking Harry's occlumency shields and retreating before a second could pass. "I can sense lies. Also, I won't be marking you yet. It would be like asking for trouble, branding a Hogwarts student. More so in your case, Golden Boy."

Harry stood up. He was about to kneel down in a show of respect to his Lord when Tom extended his right hand. Harry eyed it skeptically. He took a huge breath before reaching out. Shivers immediately traveled down his spine at the abrupt touch.

Neither one made a move to shake the other's hand. Harry's index finger started tracing circles on Tom's palm and Tom instinctively and painfully tightened his hand around the smaller hand. Harry gave a sharp intake of breath and visibly shuddered. Tom doubted he would be able to control himself if he let this go further, so he unwillingly but resolutely shook the boy's hand twice before letting go.

"Welcome to the ranks, Stoirm," Tom breathed out as he willed himself to appear cool and collected like the Dark Lord he was, not the barely in control man he was slowly becoming when the Potter brat was around.