Hey here's the next chapter. Hope you like it! Any suggestions, thoughts, or questions just ask. Thanks!

And real quick-

Who should Harry be with?

-OC Snape's daughter

-OC Tom Riddle's daughter

-Ginny Weasley

-OC Draco's twin

-Daphne Greengrass

-Other

When I woke up, I knew something was wrong. First off, my scar was burning uncontrollably. Secondly, this bed was way too comfortable to be mine. Lastly, my Uncle was yelling at me to get up and stop being lazy.

I opened my eyes uncertainly, blinking away the haze of my mind from being unconscious. It only took a few minutes to realize what had happened. The minute I realized what had happened, I felt a blow of fear. I reached for my glasses out of instinct, and they weren't there. I felt a burst of relief when I realized how lucky I was that I had been wearing my newly acquired contacts last night. It would have made this situation even worse if I couldn't see.

I surveyed my area, and was surprised to see I was in large bedroom. I was laying in a blue-comforted king side bed, and with a small nightstand beside it. I sat up carefully, wincing at the pain covering my body, and stared at the ebony desk and bookcase. I turned my head to the left to see a large window and a door, and to my right I saw another door and a dresser.

But where was my suitcase?

I reached for my wand in my pocket, but tensed when I realized it wasn't there. The person who had taken me obviously had it.

A thrill of fear shot through me again, and I had to stop my panic-attack. Taking a deep breath, I tried to think of a way to escape.

I knew very well, judging by the room I was in, that my capturer was wealthy which also meant he was most likely powerful. By the neutral colors of the room, I hoped he wasn't going to kill me or give me to someone that will kill me. It was a slim chance, I knew, especially with my luck.

I got to my feet shakily, being careful not to put pressure on my hurt wrist. I flinched at the agony that seared through me, but gritted my teeth and ignored it. I would be in a lot more pain soon, if I didn't get out of here.

Before I had a chance to try and move, the door creaked open slowly. I found myself staring at it, frozen, and waiting for the worst.

When I finally got a full view of the person, there was no immediate reaction. He looked to be about thirty with black hair and a fit, athletic build. He walked slowly to me, and I stayed in my tense, unmoving stance until he met my eyes.

They were red. Bright red.

This man was Voldemort in Tom Riddle form. I knew him instantly, and was shocked I hadn't seen it was him earlier.

I took a step away, my heart pounding in my chest, and anger flowing through me.

"You just can't leave me alone, can you?" I yelled. I felt my magic sparking, rising…. I felt the bands of my control coming undone. I let my magic surge through me, trying to find some outlet to express myself.

"No, I guess not," he answered quietly in his smooth voice, and I barely caught his words.

I found myself backing away while he slowly advanced. I glared at him with all my might, wishing he would fall over and die. It would do the world some good, too.

"You guess not?" I hissed. "You killed my parents! You killed my Godfather! YOU RUINED MY LIFE!"

He stared at me silently, seeming apathetic to all that, and I was about to scream at him when I hit something solid. With a sense of dread, I knew that I had reached the wall and there was no more running away.

"Why don't you just kill me and be done with it?" I managed to spit out, shaking violently. "Why do you have to let this go on for so long? Don't you realize that I just want you to kill me? I don't want to be the bloody Boy-Who-Won't-Die anymore!"

"Harry," he sighed. "You won't have to be. Not after today."

"So you are going to kill me?" I asked, trying to keep him talking and slowly inching to the left where the window was.

"No," he said, now only feet away from me.

I felt my magic burst inside of me."So you want to torture me, huh? Keep me as your personal servant?" I let out a scream of frustration, and my magic exploded from me. Riddle flinched slightly from my power, but I didn't even notice. "I'm so sick and tired of being used!"

Riddle grabbed me by my arm. "Calm down," he said in a low voice. "You're going to hurt yourself more."

"NO!" I yelled, and my magic burned him.

He recoiled, stunned, but quickly grabbed me again. He held me tightly, ignoring the blistering heat flowing from my body. He took it impassively, but I knew it was torturous. I fought against him, trying to break his hold with one hand. Taking a deep breath, I added my other arm in the attack, trying to ignore the screaming protest of my unattended broken wrist.

"Stop," he ordered, his eyes wide as he stared at my injured wrist. "You're hurting yourself more."

I relaxed, giving a façade of giving up, careful not to meet his eyes so he would be unable to see it was a ruse. His grip lessened, and I took that to my advantage quickly. I thrust my knee into his stomach and, caught by surprise, he let go. I sprinted away, hoping to make it out the door. I was barely a foot away when I heard the spell spoken. I turned, trying to avoid the spell, but was unable to dodge the red light. It hit my side, and I slipped back into the unconsciousness that often haunted me.

My uncle slammed his fist into my side again, and I winced. He lifted me up by my torn, bloody shirt and I tried to remain conscious.

"I heard you killed your Godfather," he hissed at me, his beady eyes gleeful. "He was just like your parents. They start liking you, and then they get killed." He leaned in by my ear, smirking. "And want to know why?" he whispered. "It's because you're a freak."

And with that, he let out a malicious laugh, and threw me back on the floor. I coughed weakly, unmoving from my position. I curled up tighter in a ball, waiting for the punishment I deserved.

It was my fault Voldemort was still alive. It was my destiny to kill him or be killed. Secretly, I didn't care which one happened as long as one of them occurred soon.

My uncle grabbed the whip on the side table next to him, grinning sadistically. He raised it, and it was about to hit me-

I woke up with a start, still waiting for the certain slash of pain.

When I met the red eyes of Voldemort, I wished I was still lost in past, horrible memories. He looked back down at a black book in his hand, leaning comfortably in a chair close by my bed. I tried to lift myself up, but I felt invisible binds holding me back and narrowed my eyes.

"Don't try getting up," he said, amused, his eyes still following the words on the page.

I glared at him. "What do you want with me?" I spat.

He ignored me, and flipped to another page. "It seems like you weren't having a very good dream," he observed curiously, glancing up at me.

"You wouldn't either, if you had my life," I said bitterly, looking away.

He sighed. "Your parents-"

"Don't you dare talk about my parents!" I growled, turning back to him with a hard expression. "You murdered them!"

Voldemort got to his feet, and I flinched. I waited; tense, for him to send some type of painful spell at me. But he didn't. He stared pacing, to my astonishment. The Dark Lord was pacing in front of me, and not shooting spells at me.

"I hate this," he finally said, seemingly defeated. "They were my best friends!"

I stared at him, frozen. He was now lying and ruining their memory? How dare he!

"Liar!" I yelled. "They would never be friends with you!"

He turned to me, his eyes sparking in anger. But he relaxed, and fell back into the chair. "I can't blame you," he said softly. "After all, if I were in your position I would feel the same."

I stared at him, confused. What was he talking about?

"Harry, your parents were betrayed by Peter Pettigrew. But I didn't kill him, Dumbledore did."

I shook my head, fighting against the invisible bands that held me down."No!" I said. "Dumbledore would never-" I broke off, looking away. He would, and I knew it.

"Wouldn't he?" Voldemort murmured, knowing my hesitation. "If he heard a prophecy foretelling of a baby who could either destroy him or kill his enemy, wouldn't he want to get to the child first? It's for the greater good after all," he spat out, his eyes flashing. "The greater good to ruin another person's life!"

I glared at him. "I know Dumbledore is a crazy, manipulative old man, but he didn't kill my parents," I retorted. "You did!"

He looked at me sadly. "Just let me explain," he pleaded.

I watched him warily, and nodded curtly, silently fuming.

He nodded his thanks, his eyes lost in thought.

"It all started at school," he began quietly. "I wanted to be something and to prove myself. After years of people hating me in the orphanage I lived in since I was born, I wanted to prove I wasn't some little freak."

I subconsciously flinched at that, but he was too lost in memories to notice. He looked down, ashamed, and I was startled. He had been abused like me, and he still seemed embarrassed about it. The Dark Lord! Why should he be ashamed? Shouldn't he be off killing people?

I looked away, uncertain about all he was saying and how he was acting.

"Dumbledore told me I had great potential and I started to have personal lessons with him," he continued, playing with his hands. "And it all went well in the beginning." He took a deep breath, looking up to meet my eyes. "Until he put me under a slave spell, where I got punished every time I disobeyed him or disrespected him. He had me under complete control." He bowed his head. "I had enough of being a slave," he said bitterly. "I rebelled, and it was slowly killing me. But I managed to find the counter spell before I was killed." He sighed, glancing back up. "And then I did the only thing I could: run away."

I felt a rush of horror as I realized it was something I could see Dumbledore doing. My eyes widened as I saw the fear that was on my life-time enemy's face. He seemed to still be troubled by those memories.

"He tortured me constantly when I was with him, so I became well-practiced in glamour spells. I had to go to school, living a lie, while I knew our Headmaster was a Dark Lord. When I ran away, I took many of my friends, to save them from the wrath of Dumbledore." Voldemort took a deep breath, trying to stop his violent shaking. "I started to build up an army to fight against Dumbledore so no one else would have to go through what I did."

"But you ended up worse than him!" I said harshly, before he could continue on, still startled by how shaken he was. "You killed so many innocent people just because of their blood or beliefs or just because you wanted to!"

He shook his head, his eyes dark. "I haven't killed anyone besides those sent by Dumbledore who have attempted to murder me, my friends, or our families."

"Don't lie!" I yelled at him. "You killed dozens of people. You killed Cedric! You killed Sirius! What did they ever do to you?"

"Harry, I swear none of that I did." He looked at me seriously, and I was shocked by the honesty in his face. He was a great liar! "Just let me explain."

I glared at him silently.

"I helped many people who were trying to escape Dumbledore's clutches. My spies in the castle would tell me of who Dumbledore was interested in," he said. His eyes got suddenly subdued, and he smiled sadly, lost in memories. "Your parents, Harry, came to me. They were trying to be recruited by Dumbledore, but your mother was best friends with Severus Snape and he explained to her everything."

I shook my head in denial. "They weren't speaking. They had an argument. I saw it in Snape's memories during a detention."

"They came under my protection," he continued, ignoring what I said. "And we soon become great friends. They helped many other people join us, who were in the order. But Pettigrew betrayed them to Dumbledore after he was captured and tortured by Dumbledore. And they were killed, but you survived, Harry. And Dumbledore was shocked and he barely managed to dodge the rebound of the killing curse. He decided to use you to destroy me, so you were sent to your relatives."

I was at a loss for words. This could make sense, if Voldemort hadn't tried to kill me countless times. I shook my head in disgust.

"So what's your excuse for trying to murder me then?" I spat, my hands in fists.

He looked at me grimly. "This is going to be hard to believe-"

I snorted, rolling my eyes.

"But it's true," he continued, sighing at my reaction. "Harry, you've never gone to Hogwarts before. You haven't ever met me before today, besides of course when you were a baby and I babysat you."

I didn't know what I thought was more crazy. Voldemort thinking I had never gone to Hogwarts, or Voldemort having babysat me.

So, I laughed. Because it was insane. Utterly and completely outrageous.

"Nothing was real, Harry. None of it," he said firmly, ignoring my obvious disbelief. "Dumbledore has been putting false memories into your mind, making you believe all of this happened so he could start training you now that you were loyal to the cause and hated me. You haven't really done everything you think you have. Dumbledore just put memories in you yearly and left you at the Dursleys until he found a way to start harnessing your powers."

I raised my eyebrows, appalled he thought so little of me. How could I believe this?

"That would explain why you kidnapped me and tied me to this bed, not to add took my wand," I said coldly, gritting my teeth at his lies.

He looked at me seriously. "Promise me you won't run away and I'll untie you. I just didn't want you to break for it again."

I stared at him for a long moment, thinking silently that was something I couldn't agree to. Then I realized there was probably no way to escape anyways, seeing my lack of wand. So I nodded, shrugging.

He waved his hand, and I felt a pressure leave. I sat up slowly, wincing.

He came over to me, and I stiffened. I watched him cautiously, not trusting him in the slightest. He came to stand beside the bed I was in, and met my gaze.

"You look to be in pain. Can I heal you?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Why didn't you do it earlier, if all you said was true?"

"Your magic wouldn't let me," he explaining, looking sheepish. "You were blocking me out."

I smiled slightly in satisfaction. "Am I still blocking you out, then?" I asked.

He nodded. I realized his eyes were a lighter shade of red than normal. They were more amber then red.

I tried to see if I could relax my magic, and it calmed down slightly, but I couldn't shut it down with Voldemort there. And I didn't really mind, because I didn't want his magic anywhere close to me. He seemed to realize this because he turned and sat down again.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't want you to get hurt. I only told your Uncle to kick you out. I never expected him to go to such measures, but the imperius curse is often untrustworthy."

I gasped. "You made my uncle kick me out!" I exclaimed. "I knew he was acting different!"

"Well obviously," Voldemort said, waving to my body. "He started to abuse you. That's not normal behavior. I'm astonished you didn't guess it was dark magic."

I bit my lip, looking away.

He looked at me thoughtfully. He suddenly narrowed his eyes."Unless…."

I met his eyes again, startled. I widened me eyes. Did he know? I felt my mind being invaded, and froze. I tried to block him out, but I couldn't. I was just no good at occlumency. I saw flashes of my Uncle and my home life, and flinched at them. He left my memories harshly, getting to his feet angrily.

"How dare he?" he hissed. "To my Godson? I'm going to kill him!"

I stared at him in utter shock. Godson? What?

"Godson?" I managed to gasp.

He spun around, stopped from his pacing, and met my eyes with equal shock.

"What?" he said."What did you say?"

I gulped, shaking slightly. "You called me your Godson."

He collapsed into his chair, his eyes wondering. "How did you understand me? I spoke in parseltounge." He looked confused, but then his expression froze in place. "Unless…. You inherited it from your Mother's side of the family? Yes, that's it."

"I already have a Godfather," I managed to spit out, still stunned and feeling slightly angry. "Or I had one."

He looked at me sadly, smiling gently. "You have two."

"Have?" I repeated, confused. "But Sirius-" I broke off, tears in my eyes.

Voldemort said three words that gave me new hope to believe what he had said to be the real story.

"Sirius is alive."

Harry gasped, taking that in.

If Voldemort was telling the truth….. than that would mean…..

"Tell me everything," I demanded.

He smiled, and nodded.

"As you wish."

Please review! I'll try to update as soon as I can, but I can't forget about my other story Destiny's Light.

Thanks for reading!