Ha! This time I do not need to apologize for taking so long.

Revamped Summary: Dumbledore locked Harry at the Dursley's for Winter Holiday's. Several days before Christmas, Harry finds a snake out in the snow. He brings it in and calls it Riddle, sheltering it in return for it's comfort. After breaking Dumbledore's power restraints, he realizes that the snake is actually Voldemort. The next day, he begins working together with Voldemort to get rid of Dumbledore's manipulations in his mind.

Disclaimer: Nothing of this is mine-blame Fanfiction! Curses! I had almost convinced myself I actually owned Harry Potter before I posted this story and read the Terms of Agreement. All of this is Fanfiction's now! Noooo…

Warning: Blood, minor cursing…and that's it for now. No slash yet, and NO, the ending is NOT slash.

Abandoned to the Cold

7

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-'-,-'- Memories and the Greater Good }-,-'-,-
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Harry was frozen inside his mind, staring at the giant bookcase of memories in terror. He could not move, kneeling on the floor. Gently, Voldemort made to pull back from his unexpected hug, but Harry gave a tiny, almost inaudible whimper. The man stopped, before sighing and pulling away fully and dragging Harry to his feet.

"Come on, Snakeling. They are only memories. How bad can they be?" Voldemort was attempting to be comforting, but he had no idea how to be so.

"Bad," Harry whispered. He gave a full body shudder and stepped slightly closer to Voldemort, seeking comfort from the only person that was there to give it. Bad did not even begin to cover how awful the memories were. Horrendous might begin to describe it. Anything less was a massive understatement. Harry had been plagued by nightmares for all of his life, and most of them could be credited for the memories contained within the bookshelf in front of him. Over a decade and a half of torment was caused by what he had contained within the books inside.

He managed to draw his eyes away from the looming object and turned them to Voldemort instead. "You promise to help?" He whispered, hating himself for his weakness. He watched as Voldemort smirked.

"Remember brat-Voldemort never says anything he does not mean. I already said I would help, so who are you to doubt me?"

Harry felt his confidence returning as the man's smug confidence infected the air around him. "Apparently I am nothing but a rash Gryffindor, if you wish to go by what Snape thinks of me. If you listen to Malfoy though, I am sure I am a bloody brat who does not know how to mind his own business or how to conduct myself in decent wizarding company."

Voldemort sneered. "Neither of them has judged you accurately, apparently. Then again, your actions have been spot on in some places. What else would you call inviting the fearsome Dark Lord into your mind but rash Gryffindor behavior?"

Harry smirked, even as he eyed a gold lamp in the corner of his mind. "I might call it a very intelligent decision, perhaps. Either that or, yeah, that Gryffindor foolishness. Considering that I can somewhat read your emotions, I prefer to think that it was the former and not the latter. Are you still planning to manipulate me like the old codger?" Harry's eyes glinted as he looked at the snake lord. He dared him to say yes.

Voldemort smirked back at him. "You think you are such the clever one, you tell me, little Snakeling. "

Harry returned his smirk, all thoughts of self-doubt forgotten. "Are you honestly asking if I do not think you will turn this situation to your favor?" At Voldemort's small nod, he let out an undignified snort. "You honestly think I will say no, don't you?"

Voldemort laughed. "You still call this an intelligent decision?"

Harry shrugged and slowly turned back to the bookcase. "I do, because my answer to your question is actually a no. Frankly, no one can manipulate me as much as Dumbledore has. Nobody else has planned my life since my birth. Anyways, I already told you that you have no reason to try to manipulate me. Any manipulation on your part would only make me distrust you. I would much rather prefer an open confrontation at a later date." Harry wondered if Voldemort would actually try to influence him, but he truly believed he would not. He observed Voldemort's feelings and watched a bit of air float in from Voldemort's door on the other side of the room. He 'felt' the man's amazement, smugness, irritation, and confidence. The oddest emotion he could feel though was a sense of pride. Not pride in himself, but pride for him-Harry. A slight bit of worry colored the entire spectrum of feelings.

Harry saw Voldemort shake his head out of the corner of his eye as the both looked at the bookcase. Harry sighed, and with some trepidation, moved to and grabbed the top-left book. He looked at the Avada Kedavra colored cover. He pulled it closer to him so he could see it clearly. He walked back to Voldemort, holding up the book with a question in his eyes. "So, do we just read this, or what?"

Voldemort sneered at the book. "That's all you have to do. I will set up a trap of sorts in your mind that will catch any of the suggestions that appear, as they are bound to. Since you are bound to fall into self pity if no one helps you, I shall supervise you in your reading. Before we do anything, though, don't you think that you should prepare in case your abominable guardians enter your room?" His sneer was transferred from the book to the door facing the outside world and the Dursley's.

Looking at the doors, Harry frowned. How was he supposed to tell the two apart? He flicked his finger at the door, wishing for a plaque to appear on it and a small window. As before, his mental room responded to his wishes. A small window appeared in the top half of the door and a plaque emerged to the right of the door. Harry looked at his small creation with a bit of pride as Voldemort snickered as he read the plate. Harry spoke what he had written on it aloud. "Life sucks." Harry snickered to himself before finally answering Voldemort's question. "This is my Christmas present. I get one full day to myself, with no additional injuries. I can do whatever I want in my room all day, and they will not set foot in it. The next day, of course, it is back to normal. That is when they show off all the gifts they got and give me those two gifts I wrapped the other day."

Voldemort sighed. "This means that we can expect no interruptions then?" Harry nodded. Voldemort gestured to the book. "Then we better get reading."

Harry nodded grimly and made to open the book. When he opened the cover, his mindscape blurred and transformed into a small, dark room. Harry looked around before spotting a crib. He walked over to it and peered at the baby inside. A small dark haired baby was in there, sprawled out on the sheets. A sickly green light shone out from its forehead. Harry turned to Voldemort, who was standing in the corner of the room, looking around interestedly. "Was that supposed to happen?"

Voldemort shrugged. "It changes. Apparently, you would rather see the memory again with me than read it alone. Why are we just standing here?"

Harry shrugged and turned to look at the door. He stopped as he saw a bunch of clothes lying on the floor. He looked back at the baby and back to the floor. He reached over and examined the clothes. He wrinkled his nose. "Either I just vaporized you, or my dad couldn't wait to take off until he got into his room to take off his clothes." Harry cringed. "No offense, but I hope the clothes are here because you evaporated,"

Voldemort looked affronted. "You would rather I almost died than picture your mother and father together in the room right next to-"

Harry cringed and covered his ears. "Yes! That's right! I don't want any pictures of that! Get them out of my head!" Smoke appeared for a moment and drifted away from Harry's head. He sighed in relief before the smoke began to take shape. Horror overtook his features as he heard noises coming from it. "NO! No, just send Dumbledore in here already!" Voldemort started chuckling even as the smoke disappeared and the door opened. Dumbledore walked in with his lurid purple robes and over to the baby.

He picked up the small child, frowning to himself. He traced a finger over the lightning-shaped mark on his forehead. He watched the toddler cringe and wake up, crying. "Poor thing," Harry heard him mutter. "A sacrifice for the world, and a step I must take for the sake of the Greater Good." Harry frowned. He shook his head.

"Did I just hear him use capitals in the greater good?" Voldemort nodded.

"Not only is he capitalizing the phrase, but he is planting a suggestion." A book appeared in midair next to Harry. Its cover was the same awful purple of Dumbledore's robes, with light pink polka-dots spattered around. The room grew darker, before it gathered into a small ball of black that emerged from the child's head. It left, reluctantly pulled into the book. Harry looked back at the book to see ugly, dull specks of black dotting the cover like a very light covering of glitter. Harry reached over and picked up the horrid thing.

"Did it have to be this ugly?" He asked, staring at it in revulsion.

Voldemort shrugged. "It represents Dumbledore's manipulations. What did you expect?"

Harry shrugged; staring at the book like it had personally offended him. "Something a little more subtle, perhaps." He opened the book and read the first sentence of the single passage written inside. "Sacrifice yourself," Harry whispered. He stared at it, unable to move even as his mindscape reappeared. He stared at the book. Except for one year, he had lived his whole life under a subconscious suggestion. He could not drag his eyes away from that sentence to read what was under it. Why did it matter? Here was solid evidence Dumbledore had wanted him to live like a sacrificial lamb.

He was jerked out of his thoughts as a pale hand pulled the book away from him and began reading it aloud. "Sacrifice yourself. It was partially broken at age seven after reading an inspirational book. The sentence, 'Live your life for yourself as if no one is watching,' affected this the most, going directly against what was suggested. Reaffirmed on September 1st, 1991." Voldemort snorted. "Apparently, this was close enough to your original mindset you never truly broke it. According to this, you have had suicidal tendencies since you were only a year old." He snapped the book shut and whacked Harry over the head. "So don't worry, Mr. Lifeguard, that was all you."

Harry unfroze and blew out a sigh of relief. "So, I would have my 'saving-people thing' even without Dumbledore?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Exactly. No one ever accused you of being sane and reasonable, brat. Your suicidal tendencies are all yours. No outside influences were needed. According to Severus, you can blame your mother for that. Your father was a stuck up prat. Your mother, however, was known around Hogwarts for her fiery temper but kind mind. All of Severus' diaries said the same thing. She was an amazing friend and a powerful woman."

Harry sniffed, trying not to cry over his mum. Voldemort's eyes softened. Harry gave him a weak smile before it vanished, replaced with a startled look. "Wait-his diaries?" Harry's face turned to disgust. "You read the bat's diaries?"

Voldemort nodded. "All of them. I needed to know how serious he was about joining me, with a muggleborn as his friend. Every single one had potions in it. Potions and spells he created were two of the four things his diaries centered around. The others were your mother, of course, and his family. I will not tell you any more than that-it is Severus' tale to tell, not mine. I may be an evil Dark Lord, but I do not betray my minions. Unless, of course, they try to kill me." Voldemort's face twisted into an evil grin and Harry repressed a shudder. "Then I have no moral obligations to keep me from doing anything to them."

"Wh-what do you do with them?" Harry had to pause to wet his suddenly dry mouth. Voldemort shrugged carelessly.

"Unfortunately for them, torture. I cannot have anyone thinking to kill me. By torturing those that dare to try, I stop many assassination attempts before they even happen." Voldemort smirked. "One day, I can see in their eyes they plan to kill me. Next day, one tries, and poof! Now that intent is replaced with fear."

Harry sighed. "That is why no one supports you, you know. They hear tales of how you treat your followers and even muggle-haters don't want to join you anymore. Hopefully, you won't be Crucioing your followers anymore, will you?"

Voldemort frowned. "How else do you expect them to obey?"

Harry turned and banged his head against the nearest solid object-Dumbledore's bookcase, no longer an object of fear. "You have got to be friggin' kidding me…HELLO? POSITIVE reinforcement?"

Voldemort shook his head in amusement at his antics. "My Death Eaters are the proverbial mule, stubborn enough not to go for the carrot in front of them without the stick behind them."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Whose friends raised with the carrot beat whose followers raised with a stick?"

Voldemort snorted. "I told them not to kill you."

Harry's other eyebrow rejoined the other. "You told them the same for my friends?"

Voldemort actually growled. "Damn brat! Alright, your pathetic friends beat Lucius and several others! WITH the Order's help and one casualty." Harry copied Voldemort's growl. "Either way, I cannot change my approach now. I had to use intimidation once I got out of Hogwarts, or else they would not have listened. By the time they would, my character was firmly entrenched within their minds until it took over. If I had stopped, they would have assumed me an imposter. I was not about to risk everything I had accomplished so I could be nicer."

Harry scoffed. "Nicer? Nicer? Nice would be throwing a Christmas Party or giving out $3 gifts. Not torturing your minions is just plain decent, not nice."

Voldemort smirked. "Lord Voldemort doesn't do decent."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Mr. Indecent. I am opening the next memory now." Harry put back the first book and pulled out the one next to it, while the ghastly purple and pink book floated next to him. The new book was a bright red and gold color, matching the coloring of the Gryffindor house but speckled with twinkling stars. As he opened the book, his mindscape disappeared again and reformed into the Gryffindor dorms. He saw himself lying on his bed, sleeping comfortably for the first time in many years, happy that he would no longer have to deal with the Dursley's.

Harry frowned as a thought occurred to him. "How are we seeing this? I am asleep right now."

Voldemort responded. "True, but your magic was still registering your surroundings, along with all of your other senses except sight, so it was able to build this picture for you to look at now."

Harry was about to reply when the room, quiet except for Ron's loud snoring, was disturbed. Dumbledore gently walked in, robes dragging silently slightly behind him. He walked over to Harry and waved his wand gently. The sound of Ron's snores immediately faded. Dumbledore walked closer until he was standing next to Harry's head. He gently lowered his wand until the tip rested on Harry's scar. Images suddenly blurred out Harry's and Voldemort's view, flashes of Harry's entire childhood flying by. Dumbledore could still be clearly seen though, and at the beginning his face was covered with a slight frown. It grew worse when he overheard the Dursley's talking about killing him, but it turned into a smile when he saw Harry's mindset after his teacher's death. Harry hissed in anger as he saw it.

After almost an hour, the pictures stopped showing. By now, Harry was whimpering and tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes. Dumbledore started murmuring under his breath. "You are a good little savior, aren't you? You are already so willing to sacrifice yourself for someone else…I just need you to cultivate that until you are willing to die at a moment's notice." Dumbledore pulled back, a slight bit of horror on his face. "For the Greater Good, of course! No, one day, yours will be a noble death."

Harry frowned. "There he goes again, with the capital Greater Good." He felt disgusted with his headmaster. "Is this how he sleeps peacefully at night? Claiming that this is all the Greater Good?"

Dumbledore continued, paying no attention to the sixteen year-old Harry. "I need you to be a good Gryffindor, my boy. You must be rash, no need to think quite so much. I see that you are used to holding back for your cousin-remember, you are just naturally that bad. You are a Gryffindor, not a Ravenclaw. You must be brave…which you already are. Stay that way, my dear boy. Of course, as a Gryffindor, you must look up to the amazing, awe-inspiring headmaster, the greatest the school has ever seen." To the side, the Dark Lord looked sick at this statement. Gagging, he made retching noises behind Dumbledore's back. "Of course, you cannot grow close to Snape…he cared to much for your mother. He might still like you if you play your cards right, and then he would no longer be useful, would he?" Dumbledore murmured, partially to himself, it seemed. "No…you will feel inclined to be even ruder in his presence. After all, you are a Gryffindor…and you will always be a Gryffindor. Fear what the hat suggested, Harry. You do not want to be in the same house as the Malfoy pawn and your parents killer, do you?"

Voldemort gagged. "Was I just compared to the horrid brat?" Harry managed a small snicker at his expense even though he felt completely disgusted by what Dumbledore was doing.

"So, my dear boy, do everything you can to avoid being seen as Slytherin. Be friends with the most Gryffindor person you can find here. Follow his example. Do not tell anyone about your dark side." Dumbledore practically hissed the last words, his face transforming into hate. "No, tell nobody about your ability to talk to snakes, or of the pain you feel with Quirrel…or when Snape or the esteemed headmaster try to get into your mind…stay vulnerable to me. Be the perfect little pawn for the distinguished Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore… follow his every move he gives you…for the Greater Good, of course."

Chuckling, Dumbledore pulled back. "Sleep well, my dear boy." Harry whimpered and slowly stopped crying as Dumbledore left. The book hovering near the teenaged Harry gained a new splattering of black as the room slowly dissolved back to Harry's mind.

Harry picked up the book that had reappeared in his hands and replaced it on the bookshelf. He stood silently for a moment, before turning to his companion. "So, what do you think?"

Voldemort frowned. "For one, it seems he is lightly suggesting you support the Greater Good and that you respond to that." He turned to Harry with a smirk. "Would you join me then, for the Greater Good, Harry? Serve the Greater Good for me?"

Harry felt his head began to spin. He was going to reply with something sarcastic before he fell to the floor, clutching his head. "Nnnnhh…" he muttered, feeling his head spin. He felt a sudden desire to serve the person who had asked. The sensation overtook his brain, slowly. He was shaking where he was crouched, shaking his head no while his mouth said yes. "Of course.," he said, his voice taking on the tone of a puppy dog begging to follow knowing it would be kicked. "For the Greater Good, I will do anything…" Harry shook his head, looking vaguely like a wet dog drying its fur. "No, not for Dumbledore, not his Greater Good…" He trailed off for a moment. "Of course," he said weakly. "Anything for the Greater Goo-" Harry collapsed in on himself, falling to the floor in a fetal position. "No-no! Shut up, shut up, shut up! I don't care about the illustrious Dumbledore's Greater Good! I do what is right, what I know is right, and what I want! I will not-" Harry coughed weakly, blood splattering on the ground. "I will not bow to the whims-" Harry broke off again, blood flying from his mouth and covering the floor. "Not to the whims of a self-centered, pawn-playing, chess-master of a headmaster!" Harry forced the words out before collapsing entirely, coughing with the strain he had put himself under.

Voldemort rushed over. "Harry? Are you-damn it, are you alright?" The Dark Lord knelt in the blood that was pooling and supported Harry. "Damn it Harry, it was just a joke!" Worry colored his tone. "Come on, Snakeling, you have to be alright!" He called out when Harry did not stop coughing. "Damn it…come on, Potter!" He helplessly thunked him on the back several times. "You are not allowed to collapse on me! Do not let the headmaster effect you this much!"

Harry heard his voice as if from a distance as Voldemort carefully wrapped his arms around Harry's body, wracked with coughs. He felt light headed and woozy. Was this Dumbledore's revenge for not serving his Greater Good? Would he die inside his own mind? Voldemort was panicking, he knew that. Would his sanity stay intact? Harry doubted it through the cloud covering to his mind as he listened to Voldemort, hanging onto his words like a lifeline.

"You will not collapse on me, my little Snakeling. You will NOT," Harry could hear the force in his voice, taking shape in his mind. "You will NOT serve Dumbledore's Greater Good," he sneered. "You will follow your own set of morals, not anyone else's." Harry jerked as he felt Voldemort firmly planting the idea in his mind. Words crossed his mind, something about opposite impressions working its way through the haze as his protector's words wrote themselves deep into his subconscious and conscious. "You will live your life the way you feel you should live it. You will act how you feel you should act. You will not bow to Dumbledore, nor will you bend to his will. You will stand strong and proud, and feel your accomplishments and self-worth. The fool will not drag you down, the one many call headmaster, the Supreme Mugwump, the revered Albus Dumbledore."

Harry gasped and stopped coughing as the words took hold and shadows leaked out of the bookcase in front of him, coating the ugly book-trap Voldemort had made. His trembling body stilled, and he spat out one last mouthful of blood." He lay, breathing heavily, concentrating on what his protector had said. 'Huh…guess he did not try to manipulate me after all.' Weakly, he voiced his other thoughts. "Who-would listen…to that barmy old codger…if they could…help it?" He panted.

Voldemort sagged and sighed with relief, before pulling him closer. "Don't you dare scare me like that again, Snakeling. You will not let Albus harm you. Remember that!" He said forcefully, locking those words in Harry's head like the others. Harry felt the words resound in his heart, giving him strength to carry on strong.

Harry gave him a weak grin. "I guess you were not good enough to make it without using opposite messages, huh?"

Voldemort gave a mirthless chuckle. "Here I thought I never screwed up."

Harry gave an echoing laugh."And here I thought you always screwed up. Question is, which of us was wrong? You because you did not manage to do it without your own impressions, or me because you managed to fix me when I was down?" Harry paused. "No, it was definitely you who thought wrong. You screwed up with the whole-" Harry shuddered, "Greater Good thing."

Voldemort winced. "It was not exactly my brightest moment, I suppose. Well, no harm done, it seems like it even managed to make our job a lot easier."

"How so?" Harry asked.

"We have successfully countered a majority of the prompts with just that already. Much less memories are left shadowed. Look at the book, see for yourself," Voldemort replied.

Harry looked up from the blood-stained floor and to the book. He had thought it was ugly before, but it was truly appalling now. Huge, black streaks marred the cover, clashing with the other atrocious colors. All in all, it was truly an abysmal cover for a horrible book.

"Frankly, I do not want to look at the abominable thing for another minute." Harry gave one last shudder. "Take it away, please?" He whispered. He hated how weak he sounded, but he was still hurt from the attack earlier. Voldemort's face softened.

"Of course. I cannot think of anyone who would be able to stand looking at that monstrosity for long." Voldemort pulled the book away and placed it on a stand that rose from the floor. He walked backed to Harry, who was still shivering lightly. He hesitated, and then carefully wrapped his arms around him again. "Just relax for a while, little Snakeling, and forget all about Dumbledore's Greater Good." His voice was low and soothing, and Harry automatically leaned into him. He sighed, and fell asleep in his protector's arms in his own mind very quickly, lulled by the power in his words.

Voldemort watched the sweet child in his arms, frailty showing. Normally, he despised anything that looked weak, but he knew Harry was strong, very strong. For a moment, he debated actually leaving a suggestion favoring him, but he hesitantly decided against it. Harry had some very good points earlier. He had no reason to influence Harry-he was already swaying towards where he wanted him to go without his help. It would be up to Harry to make his decision with a clear mind.

And for some reason, he did not want to betray Harry's trust. It went beyond his need to protect. For some reason…he felt a need to care for his little Snakeling.

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And…cut! Chapter 7 is done. Well, that was a lot quicker than last time, was it not? It is also about 500 words shorter, but you know: win some, lose some, right?

So, what do you think? I was going to go through the many memories, but the whole Greater Good thing just popped up out of nowhere, and I think that covers most of the manipulations. I still do not know if I will do more memories or not…

Last times question was: When Voldemort refers to Severus' potion and an incident, what had happened? I have decided to keep it as the question again this week, just reword it. What happened to Voldemort so that he is how he is? I love some of your responses…hilarious. Some of you are so serious too!

Original Chapter: December 12, 2010
Pages: 10
Words in story: 4,341 :,(