Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, only J.K. Rowling has that privilege

Harry came around slowly, as if rising through a fog. He could feel warm, soft sheets laid over him and soft pillows cradling his head. But something was wrong. The sheets were almost too comfortable, and certainly not the sheets in the Hospital Wing or in his bed at Hogwarts. The pillows were too fluffy.

And then he remembered.

He and some of the DA had snuck into the Ministry. Death Eaters attacked. He smashed the Prophecy. Sirius . . . Oh, God. Sirius was dead. Dumbledore and Voldemort fought. Voldemort tried to possess him. Dumbledore . . .

Oh, God. He tried to Obliviate me! And Voldemort saved me. Harry's memory was hazy after Voldemort stopped Dumbledore from erasing his memory. But why had Dumbledore done it? What was a horcrux? He'd said he didn't want me to find out till I was ready . . .

Ready for what? And where the hell was he? He had an idea, but he desperately hoped he was wrong. He wasn't. Harry opened his eyes and sat up slowly. The room was unfamiliar . . . and just oozed Slytherin. Everything in the large room was silver, green, or black. The bedspread was dark green with silver thread running through it. All of the woodwork in the room was ebony. The only thing in the room that wasn't Slytherin colored was the merrily roaring fire in the black stoned fireplace.

Harry could safely assume Voldemort had kidnapped him. Again. So what was so important that he was still alive and unharmed? If he'd woken up in cellar or something he would've guessed that Voldemort wanted to torture him before killing him. But this room—though a bit to Slytherin for his taste—was too nice for a kidnapped prisoner.

Then again who knew what went through Voldemort's mind? And nice room or not, he was still a prisoner. He could hardly see Voldemort letting him go. This thought was reinforced when he felt something burn his neck and chest.

Harry looked down and saw that a silver locket hung around his neck. The locket was simple, with jewels inlaid on the front in the shape of a serpentine S. The locket was cold when he touched it with his fingers, but it still burned his neck and chest, though it left no mark.

He attempted to remove it, but found that the icy burning worsened almost unbearably if he tried to pull it over his head. He let go of it with a yelp as it burned his fingers.

"You can't remove it, Potter. I've charmed it so that only I can take it off." Voldemort said from the doorway. Harry's head shot up in surprise. Voldemort smiled coldly at him.

"And what exactly is the point of charming a necklace so I can't take it off?" Harry growled.

"There are many uses. I've also charmed it so I'll know where you are at all times. It prevents you from leaving the manor without my permission. It also renders you incapable to perform Occlumency, not that I would have much trouble breaking into your poorly guarded mind anyway. It alerts me if you are having thoughts of escape. These are just a few of the many things I've charmed it to do. I've covered all of the bases, Harry. There will be no escape for you."

"And what would happen if I tried?" Harry asked.

"I would know you were thinking of escape before you tried." Voldemort sneered.

"Humor me."

"You really are a Gryffindor through and through aren't you?" he sighed. "Well, if you actually managed to get outside the manor walls, the wards I've placed would knock you unconscious and I would simply bring you back here."

Harry thought for a moment. Voldemort thought he'd covered all of the bases, but maybe there was one he hadn't . . .

Voldemort suddenly laughed. "Your little house elf friend can't save you, Harry. I've put up wards against wandless magic like the elf's. He couldn't get in, and he couldn't get you out. But it seems you have more of me in you then I thought."

Harry gaped. How had he known he was thinking about Dobby? How did he even know about Dobby? He quickly recovered. "I'm nothing like you, Voldemort."

"Really? So then we didn't just have that entire conversation in Parseltongue?" Voldemort said. His smile widened at Harry's bemused look. Then his eyes widened. "No . . . We—we didn't."

"Yes. We did. You just didn't realize it. Just like you didn't realize it when you told that snake not to attack the poor Finch-Fletchley boy in your second year." Voldemort's smile grew even more as Harry blanched.

"How did you know that?"

"I know more than you might think, Harry. I examined your memories while you slept. I know that you and the mudblood went back in time to save your dear godfather Sirius from the dementor's kiss. I now know that our wands have twin cores. I know you taught Hogwarts students Defense Against the Dark Arts when the woman Umbridge refused to. And I agree with you, she does indeed resemble a toad. I know that you destroyed one of my horcruxes with a basilisk fang in the Chamber of Secrets." Voldemort's smile was gone, replaced by cold anger.

"But of course, I will not punish you for things you did under the impression that Dumbledore had your best interests at heart." He continued. He noticed that Harry's eyes darkened at the mention of Dumbledore. He was pleased with that fact; it would be easier to turn the boy if he hated the Light's leader.

"Dumbledore does have my best interests at heart." Harry growl anyway.

"Does he, Harry? He wouldn't even look at you this entire year. He knew you and Severus don't get along, and yet he let Snape see your memories, your darkest thoughts, while he tried to teach you Occlumency. He expects you to fight me someday, does he not? And yet he doesn't tell you what you need to know to defeat me. In fact, he purposely keeps you uninformed. If he thought of you as anything more than a tool to achieve his goals, wouldn't he strive to keep you informed? To protect you? And yet he allows you to go on your hazardous little adventures and only helps when it benefits him. You're nothing more than a very powerful tool to him, and he uses you."

"That's not true." Harry scowled. He had been having those same dark thoughts all year.

"It is. Think about it Harry, he let an eleven year old face me. Even in my weakened state you would have died that night if not for your mother's protection. He let you fight a horcrux and basilisk at twelve. You had to save yourself from nearly one hundred dementor's at thirteen. You faced a dragon, mermaids, and me fully back to power at fourteen with no help from him whatsoever. And lastly, at the Ministry, I possessed you and he did nothing to stop it. He could have shielded you from my attack. He didn't.

"And then he sends you back to be abused by your relatives every summer. Did he care that you slept in a cupboard for ten years? Did he ever mention it, even in passing?"

"He had his reasons." Harry said, but he said it quietly. Almost doubtfully.

Voldemort ignored him. "And then he'd most likely have wanted you to hunt down my other horcruxes and destroy them too. And once you had, Potter—if I hadn't killed you in the process—do you know what he would have wanted you to do?"

"What?" Harry asked warily.

"He would have wanted you to kill yourself, of course."

Hey, so that was my second chapter! If you liked it—review (please?). If you didn't, please review anyway and tell me how I can improve. I need reviews! If I'm talking to air right now, then hello air! (I'm aware I have problems) p.s. I'm putting up Christmas decorations today! Yay!

p.s.(x2) I'll update soon as soon as possible