"All warfare is based in deception"
~Sun Tzu

"Now Harry, I am going to teach you about muggles" said his father, hoisting the four year old onto his lap. Harry giggled when Voldemort's fingers ghosted over his sensitive flesh, drawing a smile out of the snake-like man.

"What are m'gles?" asked Harry, looking up at Voldemort, his face plastered with confusion.

"Muggles," corrected Voldemort, "Are non-magic people, they do not possess magic like we do. However they are an ignorant race, choosing instead to persecute those with magic, treating them as inferior. Our government has no qualms with this, ignoring it when it ought to be stamped out. Muggles are vermin, Harry, they infected our world like a disease infecting a plant and, like all good gardeners, we must prune those areas affected and eradicate the source before it spreads any further. Never let a muggle think they are better than you Harry, if they do then show them just how wrong they are."

"So muggles," Harry sounded the word out slowly, "are bad?"

"Yes Harry they are bad"

Harry seemed to think about this for a moment, his face screwed up with concentration, "Okay daddy, I beweive you, can I go find Dwako now?"

"Yes Harry you may go and play with Draco" chuckled Voldemort, placing the infant down and smiling as he went to seek his friend.

Harry felt like someone had struck him on the head and he resisted the urge to be sick. Opening his eyes he squinted in the sudden light and another wave a nausea hit him. Trying to move his hands he looked down saw they were tied to a chair, the rope shimmering as different colours rippled through it. Conjuring up his wandless magic, he focused on trying to break through the binds, however every time his magic enveloped them, it would be repelled forcefully.

Growling in frustration, he directed his energies instead on his location. The room appeared to have once been a bedroom, the furniture dusty and an old four-poster bed lay in the corner looking as if it had seen better days. The walls were silver and the carpet a rich green matching with the moth eaten bedspread. Glancing at the door, he saw thin threads exuding from the doorframe and meeting up in the middle to form a multicoloured knot that pulsated slightly. Sighing, he occluded his mind and tried to meditate to ignore the raw panic that was tearing at his insides. It was all part of the plan after all.

"Ginny Weasley what were you thinking!" screeched the Weasley matriarch, brandishing a wooden spoon at her daughter.

"Mum, everyone else was going and I'm strong enough to be able to handle it!" yelled back Ginny, her hands balled into fists as she attempted to get a hold on her temper.

"You are not of age, it is not up to you to make that decision!"

"Everyone else gets to contribute whilst I just sit here and do nothing, do you know how useless that makes me feel!" retorted Ginny.

"Well if you want to help, grab me a bowl and take this up to our guest, Kingsley will go with you to make sure your alright" relented Molly, going back to stirring the soup with a little more force than necessary.

Rummaging in the cupboards Ginny produced a bowl and handed it to her mother before cutting up some bread and buttering it. Placing it on a tray along with the newly filled bowl, she fished around for a spoon before ascending the stairs with Kingsley following. She knew he was being kept in Regulas's old room which was on the first floor. Sure enough she could spot the wards from the top step and allowed Kingsley to go in front of her. Standing to the side she watched as he twirled his wand, and one by one the strands were released, snaking back to the doorframe. Motioning for her to go in, Kingsley stood outside the door, allowing her to close it behind her gently.

Walking to towards the bed she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His inky black hair was messy, covering his forehead and just brushing his eyes. His eyes almost took her breath away, they were a brilliant emerald green that would put the precious gems the colour was named after to shame. They seemed to glitter in the dim light, making the mask he worse seem shabby at best. Setting the tray down, she turned towards him, realising at the same time that his hands were bound to the chair. This was going to be tricky…

Harry looked up as a girl entered his room, she was carrying a tray that looked as if it contained soup. His stomach growled as the smell wafted over to him, making his mouth water. The girl placed the food on the bed and turned to him. Harry felt as if he had been punched in the gut, all the air momentarily left his body and a spark of recognition shone in his eyes. It was his angel, the one he had seen earlier. However now she looked calm, not the relentless harpy she had been on the battlefield. Her cinnamon coloured eyes were blazing, but not with hate, no, he couldn't quite place what it was that shone in her eyes. One thing he did notice was that those lovely orbs were rimmed with red, she looked as if she had been crying and Harry felt something sweep through him. Pity? Again he wasn't sure. She appeared to reach some conclusion and, kneeling down, she placed the tray on his lap before taking off his mask. The warmth of the tray spread through him, unfreezing his bound limbs and helped him get a handle on his emotions.

She dipped the spoon into the soup - tomato judging by the colour - and careful not to spill a drop, held it before his lips. Turning his head he refused the tasty morsel, his senses screaming at him not to take it.

"What's wrong with it?" asked the girl, her voice was sweet, not overly girly, more mature, it was as if she were already a woman and, stealing a glance at her ample bosom, he supposed she was.

"It could be poisoned" answered Harry, his voice gruff from dehydration.

"Oh" and then she popped the spoon in her mouth, looking him in the eye all the while, "See I'm still alive."

Ignoring the fact that she could have taken an antidote before she came in the room, Harry complied and took the next mouthful that was offered. The creamy tomato coated his tongue blissfully, it was unlike anything Harry had ever had before. Back at the manor all the food he ate had been rich and mainly comprised of protein. Swallowing, he eagerly ate the rest of the soup and almost groaned in disappointment when he realised it was all gone. Putting the empty dishes back on the plate, Harry watched silently as she left. However he was puzzled when the wards weren't raised back up, they couldn't be that sloppy could they? Seeing Albus Dumbledore enter, Harry's guard shot up - he wasn't even aware he had let it down - berating himself for thinking they were that trusting. His father had warned him about this man, saying that it was he that Harry would have to convince, if he failed, he would either die or be locked up - none of which seemed appealing. Pulling on his mask, he waited for the interrogation to begin.

Albus watched what was happening in the room, his eye peering through the hole that lay behind the portrait of three wizards torturing a muggle: let it never be said that Walburga Black didn't keep watch on her children. It puzzled him to be frank. For years he had believed Harry to be dead, killed on the night Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow. It had never occurred to him that Voldemort may have spared him, instead choosing to keep him. However that was not what he found most confusing. No, whenever he looked at Ginevra the boy's eyes would fill with, what Albus could only describe as wonder. Maybe there was hope for Harry after all.

After Ginny hurried down the stairs, Albus entered, immediately he felt the boy's defences being raised. The openness that had before inhabited his eyes was replaced with wariness.

"Harry" started Albus, watching as Harry's eyes widened at the use of his first name.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, his voice full of curiousity.

"I know your parents Harry-"

"How do you know Voldemort?"

"No Harry, I mean your real parents, James and Lily Potter" corrected Albus, maybe he could sway the boy over to the Light after all.

"Voldemort is my father" but for the first time Harry sounded unsure, and Albus was once again filled with hope.

"No you were taken as a baby whilst your parents were away, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you."

"But… but" Harry looked genuinely lost now. Looking him in the eye, Albus dived into his mind. Confusion was the dominent emotion, sweeping Albus up in the torrent of bewilderment and... was that a hint of relief? Images swirled before him, passing so quickly that he could barely get the gist before they moved on to the next one: Harry being punished by Voldemort for not calling him Lord, the Death Eater's cowering before them as Voldemort made Harry torture them, his guilt when practising the Unforgivables…

"Please get out of my head" whimpered Harry.

"I'm sorry Harry, I had to be sure" said Albus, pulling out of his mind, startled to see tears falling silently down the boy's cheeks. Standing up he made his way to the door.

"Wh, where are you going?" asked Harry, his voice cracking.

"I have a few things I need to attend to, I will, however, be back later" and with that he left.

Harry watched and tried not to smirk. His father was right they were fools. Bringing up his parents was a dirty trick, and he had had to hide his surprise at them being mentioned instead opting to feign shock. The old man seemed to buy it however and now all he had to do was wait, he would make his father proud.

A/N: Thanks for the feedback. I couldn't get this story out of my head so I've decided to post another chapter. I would appreciate a few more reviews just to let me know what you think thus far and I hope you've enjoyed this chapter :)

A/N2: All the memories that Dumbledore saw were false, his main way of finding out th trustworthiness of people is through reading their minds and so I thought that that would be the most plausible way to make him give Harry a chance. Harry was trained by the most powerful legillimens alive and so it is realistic that he would have been able to fool Dumbledore. Only Dumbledore knows that he is Harry Potter, in the battle he wore a mask and so no one saw his face when he was captured. I hope that makes sense :)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter.

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