Leave it behind
Hearing your silence
It screams our goodbye
Cannot believe it's an eye for an eye
Let us go to waste...

~Within Temptation, 'A Demon's fate'

Chapter 2

Unanswered

Harry quickly stood up and automatically hid the unfolded paper under a heavy school book, before turning around to look at the door with curious eyes.

"Who is it?" he asked suspiciously, after a second loud bang.

"It's me, boy!" uncle Vernon's irritating voice answered from the other side of the white wooden door.

Harry's pulse instantly evened and his heart beats dropped. He had nothing to fear from his uncle. All he had to do now was find out what he wanted and why he had banged his door like that to get the boy's attention. He walked over to the door and opened it, to see a formally dressed Vernon Dursley, looking down at him with his common arrogant and greasy expression.

"What is it?" Harry asked, letting his annoyance show obvious in his voice. Vernon, however, didn't seem to notice that.

"I, your aunt and your cousin will be out for the evening. We have been invited out to dinner by the Browns'," Vernon answered with a small smile crossing his fat lips. Harry knew that his uncle felt beyond simply proud every time got an invitation like that.

"Okay."

"You will behave while we're out. We won't be back before midnight," his uncle added.

Harry nodded, but then remembered what he had wanted to tell the Dursleys. "Oh, uncle Vernon," he started, trying to sound as polite as possible this time. "I might be leaving tonight," he said. "I'll spend the rest of the summer at one of my friends' house… And probably I'll leave tonight, around nine," he added.

Vernon raised an eyebrow. "The whole rest summer?" he asked curiously. Never before had Harry stayed at the Dursleys' house for such a short time; only three weeks.

"Yes," Harry replied, unable to hide his enthusiasm. "And that's really good for you too," he added with an innocent smile, knowing that he would probably irritate his uncle. "You won't have to tolerate me for any longer," he said.

However, Vernon didn't scold him for talking back or anything like that. "Alright then," he said simply. "I will let Petunia know. And… I suppose we will meet again next summer."

Harry nodded. Vernon did the same, and decided that there was nothing else to say, so he turned around to leave, much to Harry's relief, putting an end to a really awkward silence.

As soon as he was alone again in his room, he sat back down on the uncomfortable chair of his small desk, and pulled out the letters he had received during the past three weeks.

Dear Harry,

If you and your uncle and aunt are all right with this, I will be passing from their residence tomorrow night at nine to pick you up. Molly and Arthur have informed me that they would be greatly pleased if you spent the rest of the summer with them at the Burrow, and I don't see any reason for you to not do so.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore.

That letter had actually confused Harry. He had never left the Dursleys' house after only three weeks before, but he definitely liked that. He couldn't wait until nine, when the headmaster would come to take him from the house he so hated and to the Burrow. He so wanted to leave the place he was in now… Especially after last week's events… Harry was thankful that Voldemort hadn't showed up or talked to him for a whole week, but he hadn't been able to sleep properly or take the events of that night, one week ago, out of his head.

He shook his head. Thinking of Voldemort wouldn't help things at the moment. Instead, he decided to try and figure out why the headmaster himself would come to take him. With a sigh, he took out the second letter and read it once again.

Harry,

Mom told us you'll be staying here for the rest of the summer vacation! That's really awesome! Dumbledore informed us that he will bring you here in three days from now, and we can't wait! Hermione is already here, she arrived only a few hours ago. We are waiting for you to come too!

Ron

PS. When you come, a most… pleasant surprise awaits you… Still, Ginny and Hermione don't think this 'surprise' is very good, but, mind you, I'm sure they're just jealous. They wish they were like her! Oh, I think I just spoiled half of the surprise. Oh well… What can you do? I don't care, I'm telling you. Fleur Delacour is here! Yeah, it's awesome, I know. Do you remember her? At our fourth year, that gorgeous blonde from Beauxbattons? Yeah… she's getting married to Bill. Lucky him… Anyway, I'll tell you everything when I see you!

Harry folded the letter and placed it on the desk. So Bill was going to marry Fleur… He would have never guessed that something like that would happen… Oh well, if they love each other, he thought. Just when he was about to read the third letter he had received –this time from Hermione- for the fourth time, he heard the door bell ring. The Dursleys had already left, so that could only mean that Dumbledore had arrived! The teen quickly stood up and started packing up his things in a hurry, before storming down to the hall and opening the door to see the headmaster waiting for him.

A whole week had passed since Harry's arrival to the Burrow, and every day was pleasantly normal for the boy. Voldemort hadn't annoyed him at all; he hadn't invaded his mind and life and had completely left the teen alone, much to Harry's pleasure. He was worried, though. The thought that the Dark Lord was actually planning something and therefore had left Harry in peace for a whole week wouldn't leave his mind, despite all his efforts to convince himself that everything was alright and the incidence at the Dursleys' house, one week ago, was nothing more than just a simple teasing by Voldemort or a failed attempt to break the boy's confidence, and therefore wouldn't happen again. As if to just strengthen the boy's fears, his scar had begun to tingle and itch almost constantly, making Harry feel really uncomfortable. It didn't hurt or burn him, like it always did when Voldemort was close to him or when Harry sensed the Dark Lord's emotions; no, this was totally different, and Harry sometimes caught himself almost liking the pleasant, slight tingling that spread across his forehead, and then felt really ashamed and angry for that, every time it happened. He couldn't understand why this was happening, but he wasn't planning to ask anyone. Since the Dark Lord hadn't done anything to harm him, Harry supposed everything was alright, and that he didn't have anything to worry about.

But that morning, when he had woken up, Harry had sensed that something was different. He had no idea why; maybe it was because his scar had stung painfully for the first time in so many days. He put a great effort to ignore it and convince everyone that he was fine, but he could feel the suspicious looks of Hermione, Ron and Ginny piercing him.

"I told you, I'm alright!" he said sharply, while having dinner with the Weasleys, Fleur and Hermione, after receiving another worried look from Ginny- the hundredth one that day.

"Harry, dear, you do look a little tired today," Molly said quickly, before Ginny could throw back an answer to Harry.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm fine," Harry stated simply, trying his best not to show how upset he was with all the questions.

"Are you sure? You seem to be ill… Are you sure you are okay, my dear?" Molly insisted, only making Harry's anger grow. Why was everyone bothering him? Couldn't they see that he needed some space, that he couldn't answer to questions and be the center of attention all the time?

"I said I'm fine!" he growled, but he immediately regretted talking like that to Ron's mother. "Oh, umm…Mrs. Weasley… I'm sorry… I didn't-"

"Oh, don't worry dear," Molly cut him off with a comforting smile. "Everyone has their bad days," she said lightly. "Everyone deserves to be angry sometimes, do they not? Especially you, Harry, after all you have been through…"

Harry nodded slightly and looked down, feeling embarrassed, knowing that Ron was probably glaring at him. Ron! Harry suddenly felt anger filling him once again, this time because of his friend. His friend, who always thought that Harry believed himself to be better, who always thought that Harry had stolen his rightful place in his mother's heart… Nonsense! Harry had never had any intentions to outshine Ron, and yet, he-

He shook his head. What the hell was he thinking? He wasn't supposed to have thoughts like that for his best friend… Feeling everyone's worried eyes on him, he stood up and looked around, his scar now tingling –once again, Harry couldn't tell if he liked the sensation or if he loathed it. "Umm… I… feel kinda tired…" he started in a slightly trembling voice, as he felt his scar now hurting and stinging, his vision becoming blurry. "I'll go to bed earlier tonight… If there is not a problem with that," he added, looking pleadingly over to Molly, who rushed to smile and comfort the boy.

"Of course not, of course not, Harry dear," she said, her smile never leaving her face. For some weird reason, Harry found that constant smile to be really annoying.

"Thanks," he said, as he struggled to keep his hand from moving up to grab his forehead. He murmured a quick "goodnight" and hurried out of the kitchen, running upstairs to the bedroom he shared with Ron. He hurriedly changed into his nightwear and fell on the bed with a loud sigh. Both his palms grabbed his forehead as his head touched the pillow, as if to lessen the pain that was now almost unbearable for Harry. He bit his tongue, desperately trying tot to scream, struggling to focus on making the pain stop…

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop…

In few seconds, his efforts found response; the burning across the teen's forehead lessened, became weaker, almost stopped. Harry slowly lowered his hands and opened his eyes, panting heavily. "Merlin," he murmured. "Where did that come from?" he asked himself. However, knowing that he could do nothing about it, Harry decided to relax and forget about everything, only for some moments. He forced himself to breathe evenly, forced his mind to think of things that had nothing to do with Voldemort, or the Weasleys, or the Order, or anything that would cause Harry to get upset. Soon, he felt himself getting surrounded by a familiar, warm cloud of darkness, falling thankfully into sleep's welcoming arms.

"Did you see him?"

"Yes, what's wrong with him?"

"I don't know, but that boy is really getting on my nerves."

"Why? What did he do?"

"Seriously? Didn't you see him? He acts so strangely all the time, as if we're all his sworn enemies!"

"No, no, he was just tired! He explained it to us!"

"Oh really? And you actually believed him? Come on, didn't you see the look on his face? He looked so fed up with everyone, that little brat! What did we do to him?"

"He thinks he's the heart of the world, that everything evolves around him…"

"He always wants to be the center of attention…"

"He thinks he's so great…"

"And of course, he's nothing more than a boy with issues!"

"He needs to learn some manners!"

"He needs to come back to reality!"

"He needs to…"

"Shut up!" Harry screamed as he opened his eyes, only to see the ceiling of the small bedroom. He sat up, breath coming out heavily, skin covered in sweat. He looked around anxiously, searching for the owners of the voices that had been talking like that about him. He didn't see anyone; only Ron, who was snoring in the bed next to him, deep lost in his own dreamworld. Harry quickly got out of bed, and walked carefully towards the door. He swore he had heard someone talking about him! He opened the door, trying not to make any noise, and looked up and down at the empty corridor. No one was there; Harry glanced at the watch on his wrist and saw that it was four at the morning. Obviously, everyone was sleeping. Then, who had been talking like that and had woken up Harry? "A dream", he thought. He sighed and closed the door, before walking back to his bed. Those people talking about him like that in his dream had really irritated him. So, that was what his closest friends were thinking of him? He sat down on the bed and closed his eyes tightly. He could feel his blood pumping hard through his veins, uncontrollable anger filling him once again. He couldn't deal with the fact that the people he trusted were gossiping about him behind his back! "Calm down, it's just a dream!" he mentally shouted to himself, but he knew there was no way to relax now. He knew he wouldn't sleep any more, even if he tried, so he stood up once again and grabbed a jacket from the wardrobe. He moved to the door and opened it, then glanced over to Ron's sleeping form, just to make sure that everything was alright, and then got out to the empty corridor.

A few moments later, he was out of the dark, quiet house, his feet touching the wet grass of the Weasleys' garden. He wrapped his jacket tightly around his body and started walking. He had no idea of where he was going, but there was no way he would get back in the house, with all of them…

"Now, now, Harry, you really shouldn't have thoughts like that for the people who care about you."

The boy froze right next to a small, hectic tree. Not again, he thought. His right hand automatically moved to his thigh, where a pocket with his wand inside should be.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He didn't have his wand with him. He had no way of defending himself against Voldemort.

He lifted his head and his eyes wandered around the dark garden, searching for Voldemort, the same way they had done two weeks ago. However, the Dark Lord was nowhere to be seen. Harry took a few steps backwards, slowly moving closer to the door to the inside of the Burrow, glancing nervously around him. But once his hand was about to push the door open so he could go inside, the voice made him freeze in his spot once again.

"You really are so desperate to run away from me, Harry?"

The boy tried his best to ignore the voice, which sent unhealthy shivers down his spine, and pushed the wooden door to get away from the now hostile grounds of the garden. To his surprise, the door remained closed, as if stubbornly refusing to obey to Harry's will. He gave it a loud bang, trying again to open it, but with no success; the door wouldn't open, despite Harry's continuing efforts. He took a step back and forced himself to calm down. It wasn't easy. Waves of terror were now going through him, despite his struggling efforts to suppress them, while he felt his stomach leaping from nausea.

He ran a sweaty hand through his messy hair, struggling to remember if there were any other entrances to the house; sure there were, but Harry couldn't bring himself to think of any. He took another fearful look around, hoping not to see the one he was searching for.

"Turn a little to your left, if you will. Just for a better view."

Harry immediately tuned around to his left, and his worried eyes spotted a tall, thin figure, dressed in black, standing right next to the tottering fence of the kitchen-garden. His pale, almost white skin was in a perfect contrast with his burning crimson eyes and dark surroundings.

Harry unconsciously backed away a few steps, terror rising in him once again. The already stuffy air seemed to thicken, making it even harder to breathe. "What… What are you doing here?" was all he managed to say, unable to hide the fear in his trembling voice.

He heard Voldemort chuckle, and then he saw him take a few steps closer to him; Harry, on his account, took a few backwards, wanting to avoid the man who was now dangerously close to him.

"Can't I just come to pay a visit to dear Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked with a sly smirk, causing Harry to feel like he was going to be sick. "Now, Harry, how many times do I have to tell you not to be afraid?" Voldemort hissed, taking another step forward.

"Yes, yes, you can't harm me and everything," Harry spat, now doing better at controlling the trembling in his voice, much to his satisfaction. He hated looking weak in front of his enemies, and especially in front of Voldemort, but it wasn't something that he was always able to do. "So why do you keep popping out of nowhere like that, if you're not going to attempt to kill me?" he continued, gathering all the courage he had left. He mad sure to emphasise on the word 'attempt', reminding Voldemort of how he had failed to kill him so many times before. Voldemort, however, didn't seem to get annoyed at this. He simply stared at Harry, his crimson eyes piercing through the boy's, making him feel extremely unfocused.

"To be precise, Boy-Who-Lived, it's not that I can't harm you, although I must admit it is quite difficult to do so with all this protective charms around you," Voldemort said casually, without answering Harry's previous question, much to the teen's displeasure, "it's that I don't want to harm you." He hissed softly.

Harry frowned at his words. Voldemort didn't want to harm him? Under other circumstances, he would have laughed at this, but now all he could do was wonder if the Dark Lord was simply enjoying playing with Harry's mind once again.

"Or, to be more accurate," Voldemort said in his low, cold voice, "I don't want to kill you, my little Chosen-One. That is what they call you now, isn't it? Quite interesting, I must say" he smirked.

"You don't want to kill me?" Harry repeated, unable to suppress the bitter laugh that escaped his lips. "Do you really want me to believe that?"

"Oh, I'm speaking nothing but the truth. It's all up to you to decide if you are going to believe me or not," Voldemort answered indifferently, twisting his wand between his long, pale fingers.

Harry glanced nervously at it, and then turned his gaze on Voldemort's face once again. His expression was unreadable, neutral, and his burning eyes were looking calmly through Harry's. "What will happen if I say that I don't believe you?" he dared to ask.

"Nothing," Voldemort replied simply, confusing Harry. They stood there, sharing an extremely awkward silence; on Harry's part at least. Where Harry was obviously uncomfortable and nervous, Voldemort looked annoyingly calm and even slightly amused with Harry's nervous glances around the silent garden.

"All this is very good," suddenly snapped Harry's seem-to-be confident voice, breaking the silence, "so I'm just going to go back inside, and you can go back to… wherever you want." He said, and took a careful step behind, measuring Voldemort's reactions to his words.

"No, Harry, you're not going anywhere," he hissed, and Harry could sense the threat behind it. He decided to stay still and hear to what else Voldemort had to say, but the Dark Lord remained silent, observing Harry's features with glowing eyes. Harry's hands nervously clenched on the edges of his jacket, as the boy desperately tried to figure out what was going on. Could he be dreaming?

"No, you're not," Voldemort hissed softly, something like a cruel smile now twisting his lipless mouth. Harry frowned. That whole mind-reading thing had become really annoying; he should try to close his mind from Voldemort, he should try, he had to-

"You're not going to accomplish anything, little Harry, even if you try," Voldemort smirked at him, making Harry boil in anger. The boy growled and his hands turned into fists, fed up with Voldemort treating him like that. "You-" he started angrily, but was cut off.

"You must learn how to control your emotions, Harry," Voldemort hissed. "That's the very first step, if you want to succeed in securing your mind. And that means holding back your anger."

Harry growled again. Voldemort's words had reminded him of Snape and the Occlumensy lessons with him, which had turned out to be a total flop. "What do you know about controlling of anger?" he asked furiously, suddenly remembering of all the visions of the Dark Lord he had had over the past year, torturing his servants when being furious.

"I don't think you should compare yourself with me, Harry," Voldemort replied calmly, although Harry could hear the tension in his cold voice.

"And why so?" he asked stubbornly.

"Because, Harry, you're nothing compared to me, that's why. And that's the problem," he replied, his eyes never leaving Harry's.

"Problem? What problem?" he frowned.

Voldemort paused for a second, as if considering his next words, and then spoke again, his voice sending shivers down Harry's spine once again. "I'm sure you know what a horcrux is, right Harry? I bet Dumbledore has told you," he said, a slight smile that held something sly and cruel crossing his mouth.

"A… A what?" Harry asked, now more confused than ever.

"Oh, I see. It seems that old dear Albus doesn't trust you enough to let you know something so important… A shame it is, really. But, that's Dumbledore," Voldemort said, as if talking to himself, and then he turned his eyes to Harry, his abnormal smile never leaving his lipless mouth. "I believe that since Dumbledore doesn't consider you worthy enough to let you know about something like this, then we should end our little conversation here… What do you think?"

Harry didn't know how to answer to the man's words. He had no idea about what he had just heard, but, before he could say something, Voldemort had disappeared, leaving him alone in the dark, silent garden of the Burrow. He walked back to the house with unsure steps, as if hit in the face with something, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Voldemort had told him that he should be aware of something important, called horcrux, that Dumbledore should have told him... And yet, Harry had no idea what that thing was. he tried to clear his mind from all this, and thought that maybe he should talk to someone... Later. Once he reached the door, he tried to push it open, but he soon realized it was still locked. He let a growl of frustration escape his mouth, as he thought that he would have to spend the rest of the night outside, waiting until someone woke up and opened for him to get inside. "Perfect," he growled. "Everything is just fucking perfect."

A.N/Wow! I was shocked with the response the story got, and I really want to thank everyone who has added this to their alerts and favorites! I honestly wasn't expecting you guys to be so ...many, so thanks again! You make me feel so loved! Also special thanks to everyone who took the time and wrote a review for this! I really love you guys! So, I found some time and I wrote the second chapter. It's a little longer than the first one, and I hope you'll like it. I want to clear out that there will be LV/HP slash, but not yet. I don't want to get straight into it and make it look all rushed. Also, the slash will be... well... graphic. But as I said, not yet.

Of course, nothing belongs to me but the plot. JK Rowling owns everything, since you don't see Harry in the dark side, Ginny dead and Voldemort hooked up with Bellatrix in the actual books. Oh well :P