Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I'm only a fan writing for pure entertainment and do not mean to gain any sort of profit from this.

Warnings: SLASH LV/HP. A quote is taken out of DH.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in the posting of this chapter. Its quite a long one, so it took a while before I was satisfied enough with it to post it. More on the what's to come after this chapter.

Chapter 2

A boy with a shock of untidy black hair against ghostly pale skin stood in the dark foyer of Riddle Manor. His bright green eyes roved around the place, memories of a recurring dream from his fourth year fresh in his mind.

Just up the main staircase, at the doorway of the first bedroom on the second landing, an old man by the name of Frank had been killed in cold blood. Dark Lord Voldemort, along with his followers, Peter Pettigrew and Barty Crouch Jr. had been planning Harry Potter's death.

The same Harry Potter who had followed the Dark Lord here willingly, who now stood a mere two feet behind him by some cruel whim of fate. You would think life would have ceased its surprises by now... thought Harry wryly.

"This was my muggle father's residence," Voldemort said, startling Harry out of his brooding in a soft voice. "He lived here along his parents until they met their deserved end at my hands ... No different from other muggle scum, leaving my mother while she still bore me," His voice was still soft but a scowl was now etched upon the serpentine features, "He was worthless, afraid of magic and of things beyond his arrogant yet limited mind ..."

Hearing this, Harry forced himself not to smirk. Albus Dumbledore had always had a knack for being right about things. Now, well after his death, the 'greatest wizard of all time' had been proven right again. Harry could recount countless meetings during which the headmaster had spoken to him about Voldemort's insecurities. From their study of the Dark Lord they had drawn one sure conclusion; Voldemort was afraid of matters that were beyond his understanding.

Harry inwardly smiled at the irony. Voldemort's description of his father, the latter part at least, sounded oddly familiar now. Tom Riddle Sr. had been afraid of magic because he did not understand it. His son, just as arrogant, was afraid of death instead.

"Since I have not yet decided what to do with your additional ... responsibility, we will be staying here until arrangements can be made," said Voldemort, his previous indifferent voice back in place.

Harry's heart sank with these words. He had been half hoping that Voldemort would either chuck him in dungeon or at least take him someplace with the rest of death eaters. It would have caused him grim satisfaction to see their expressions at the Chosen One being sheltered by the Dark Lord. Staying here alone with him though...

Voldemort's face now twisted into a mocking smile, "Why so forlorn Potter? Tell me ... What is it about this place that does not please you? From one filthy muggle house to another, what difference does it make?"

Harry raised his eyebrows in annoyance, "I don't understand your need to have a go at my family when the similarities between yours and my own are striking. You come off as foolish; trying to insult me when so many of circumstances in our lives have been the same."

"Oh and you think you know quite a lot about my past do you?" Voldemort asked coldly.

"Yes I do," Harry said simply, "more than you can imagine," he added with slight twist of his lips, knowing his words to be true. For after Dumbledore there was no other that understood the secretive Dark Lord as well as himself.

Voldemort regarded him silently for a second and then stepped closer, lowering his face and bending slightly to be on eye level. Voldemort exhaled slowly and Harry could feel his breath lightly tickle his forehead, but made no move to place more distance between them as he was rooted to the spot.

"Had you not been holding a piece of my soul inside of you, I would have killed you excruciatingly for being so presumptuous," he said quietly. Harry opened his mouth to retort hotly, but Voldemort was not yet finished.

He placed a long, thin finger on Harry's dry and cracked lips to silence him and said, "There is world of difference between you and I, Harry Potter. You would do well not to forget it."

Harry's scar seared in white hot pain at the contact and he dropped to his knees, clutching his forehead. He kept his mouth firmly shut though. He would not give Voldemort the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

He looked up through blurry eyes to see that Voldemort had turned away again. He struggled to get up as Voldemort spoke again, "There are numerous rooms in the house. You may choose one and stay inside. Be silent." With that, Voldemort disappeared into the shadows at the far end of the foyer, leaving Harry still swaying slightly on his feet.

Harry stared into the shadows while gritting his teeth to try and pull himself together. He took small steps towards the stairs leading upstairs and once confident he was stable enough, began to climb.

He climbed slowly, a numbness creeping over his mind as he forced himself not to think about what had taken place. He instead focused his mind on what he could see of the mansion in the darkness. It was as if he had stepped into his dream. The mansion was just as he remembered and untouched, quite literally, with a thick layer of dust coating every surface. He ran his fingers on the railing as he climbed upwards making a trail of dust clouds float up and then merge with the already stuffy but cold air inside.

The door of the room just opposite the staircase was slightly ajar and Harry could recognize it as the same room in which Voldemort had stayed. He stepped inside and noticed the difference of this room and the rest of the house immediately. The room was spotless and not a single speck of dust could be found. He supposed the cleaning charms Pettigrew had probably placed while they had stayed here were still in place.

Beside the empty grate of the fireplace across from where he stood, the high backed chair on which the frail form of Voldemort had sat still faced the door. On the other side of the fireplace, a chaise was kept beneath the window that gave view to most of Little Hangleton.

As the chaise was comfortable looking enough, Harry sat down, kicking up his feet, content to make this room his own. He lay back on the one sided arm rest, head pounding as images from recent events flashed through his mind.

His mind kept replaying each of his interactions with Voldemort. His stomach churned and Harry rested his arm on it, trying to make the nauseating feeling go away. Thinking back, Harry realized that out of all his meetings with Voldemort his entire life, those that had taken place today were the most... interesting.

Harry's lips burned as he revoked the cold, smooth touch of Voldemort's finger and how he could feel his breath on his face as the Dark Lord rebuked him.

Why Voldemort was eager to differentiate between them was obvious to Harry. It was for the same reason that he differentiated between himself and the whole world; to feed his over-inflated ego. Why Harry was so keen to point out the similarities between them, however, was something he himself did not understand. Harry told himself it was just a rebellious attempt to make the Dark Lord realize that he was not so special after all. But in Harry's mind, a small voice told him maybe that was not all.

With fatigue washing down on him in waves, Harry decided the time for late night musings was past. He closed his eyes, deep red eyes dancing underneath his eyelids, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Harry awoke to find red-orange sunlight streaming from the windows. Dawn, he thought as he sat up slowly, rolling his shoulders and trying to feel his fingers which had stiffened overnight in the cold.

The house was silent, not a movement of anything living could be felt. Harry stood up and worked his jaw. His mouth felt pasty and dry and his stomach growled for food. He pulled out Draco's wand to cast to a quick aguamenti and held his wand directly above his mouth, throat convulsing as he drank huge amounts of water. Feeling refreshed but slightly unsteady due to the lack of food, Harry walked out of the room and made his way downstairs.

Dust moats swirled in the little of the light that shone through the small windows high on the walls of the foyer. Harry, captivated by them, did not notice a miniature figure standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Good evening, Master Potter, did you rest well?" A cry of shock ripped through Harry's throat as he leaped backwards in shock, his foot scuffing against the step loudly causing him to lose his balance and trip down the last remaining step.

"Oh! Dusty is terribly sorry Master Potter, he did not mean to startle you!" squeaked the figure in panic. Harry blinked, wincing from the pain in his leg as a house elf came into focus. His first thought was 'Dobby!' but the difference between his old loyal friend and the one in front of him soon became apparent.

Dusty's eyes were a warm brown, although just as wide and tennis ball like as Dobby's had been. He was dressed in a tea towel wrapped around his thin waist like a kilt and his ears were permanently drooping by his side, giving him the look of a keening puppy. His voice was just as high as well, but had a sweet thin quality in it that did not grate on one's ears.

Harry tried to smile up at the elf as he got up but he was sure what came forth was a twisted grimace instead. The house elf was positively trembling now, afraid of being reprimanded.

"You, um, don't need to worry. Its fine, I should been watching where I was going anyway," said Harry, trying to channel Hermione's kindness towards house elves.

"Dusty is still extremely sorry sir, Dusty was only trying to make Master Potter feel welcome," the elf replied, sniffling.

Harry smiled wryly at the thought of feeling welcome at his current location and felt sorry for the elf fighting a losing battle. No place housing Voldemort would ever be welcoming for Harry.

"Don't worry about it, honestly, I'm fine. But hang on, did you just say good evening?" asked Harry bewildered.

"Yes Master Potter!" squeaked the house elf, previous demeanour returning, "It is dusk outside now, the sun is setting as we speak!"

Harry's eyes disappeared high into his fringe as he realized he had slept through the whole day. "Oh I see. I er, did not know that Riddle Manor contained a house elf. Did Voldemort being you here?"

A terrified squeak emitted from the house elf, as he cast a frightful look at the other end of the foyer. "Please refrain from taking the Dark Lord's name Master Potter, it is most disrespectful."

"I've called him Voldemort all my life, I will not change that now. Where is he anyway?"

"The Dark Lord works in the study, Master Potter. He has called Dusty from Malfoy Manor and has charged me with seeing to your needs Master Potter, whilst you are here!"

"Oh so you are Dobby's replacement at the Malfoys. Still treat you like scum do they?"

Dusty moaned, "Please do not insult Master, Master Potter. Dusty just wanted to know what he should make for supper."

All thought about the Malfoys disappeared from Harry's head at the prospect of food. "Anything you like would be fine Dusty. Just please make it quick. I haven't eaten for days!"

"Yes, Master Potter, right away!" Dusty smiled in pleasure, his toothy grin ear to ear.

"Thanks Dusty." Harry called, making his way to the study, not noticing the wide eyed look he received from the house elf upon being thanked.

French double doors led way to the study and Harry hesitated, looking through the grimy glass at the Dark Lord standing within. A warm roaring fire lit the now darkened room and Voldemort stood facing slightly away from the door, twirling the Elder Wand between his fingers, as he flipped through an old battered volume lying open on the desk.

With a flick of the wand, the doors to the study swung open and Harry took it as a cue to step inside. Voldemort did not look up from the book, still bowing slightly over it, the same finger that had silenced him the previous night trailing the words on the page.

"From the ruckus just now, I trust you have met the house elf?" Voldemort said, his voice slightly hoarse from speaking after a great length of time.

"Yes. I'm a bit confused as to why he is here though. You didn't strike me as someone who would look out for me." Harry spoke, looking at Voldemort.

Crimson eyes left words to meet with his own, "Do not flatter yourself. I'm looking out for my horcrux, nothing else."

"Sure," said Harry dispassionately, making his way to the bookshelves lining the study on the other end, head cocked slightly as he read through the names. The books were mostly old, written in languages Harry hadn't studied. The few that he was able to decipher were mostly on wand lore, while others based on various branches of magic.

Harry knew of the Dark Lord's current dilemma. The Elder Wand did not work for him as well as he would like, despite him ruthlessly killing Snape in order to stake claim as the true owner. This was of course, because he was not. Harry wondered how Voldemort would react when he found out that his archenemy, Harry himself, was true owner of the Wand of Destiny.

Ollivander's words echoed in Harry's ears, 'The Dark Lord no longer seeks the Elder Wand only for your destruction, Mr. Potter. He is determined to possess it, because he believes it will make him truly invulnerable ... the idea of the Dark Lord in possession of the Deathstick is, I must admit ... formidable.'

Formidable. When had the Dark Lord not been formidable? Yet, despite his dark power, Harry had been pitted against him, willing or not, time after time. And now, he knew that despite being under Voldemort's very nose (or lack of) Harry would have to fight against him yet again. Fight in order to keep him from possessing the most powerful wand in the world and reducing what was left of the world to smithereens.

Harry ran his fingers on the spine of a battered volume as his mind formulated the ghost of a plan. He had no idea whether it would work, but he knew had to try. He also knew that time was something he was short of again. Who knew when Voldemort would find 'suitable arrangements' for his horcrux and he would be banished from Dark Lord's company forever.

So without sitting down and thinking his plan through as he knew he should, Harry carried out the first step... bait.

Harry turned back to Voldemort, who had gone back to his book, reading it with almost a hunger in his stance.

"I know why it doesn't work for you, the wand" said Harry quietly.

Voldemort turned to face him slowly, surprise evident on his face. He said nothing, but straightened up to his full height, hands tightening around the wand possessively as he looked at Harry expectantly, waiting for him to speak.

"You are not its true owner."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, "Then, pray tell, who is?"

"I don't think I'll be divulging that information just about now. But just thought you should know, you are not its true owner," Harry said coolly, a smirk playing about his lips.

Suddenly, Harry found himself pushed against the bookshelf, with the much discussed wand pressed against his throat.

"You underestimate me, Potter" hissed Voldemort, a hand clutching painfully at Harry's hair. "I have always gotten what I want. Do not think that just because you are my horcrux, you will not be harmed by my hands. Now tell me what I want to know."

Harry gritted his teeth against the pain in his scar, blinding him again as he struggled to speak. "And you underestimate me, Riddle. I will not back down against the threat of pain for you have caused me nothing but since the moment I was born. And you forget, I am one the one thing you have never attained. Even today, I came with you willingly. And it is only willingly that I will tell you what you need to know."

"I am an accomplished Legilimens. Your secrets will never be safe from me, Harry. And we both know the weakness of your mind ... the death of your dear godfather was a prime example."

Closing his eyes against the pain both physical and mental at the thought of Sirius, Harry laughed. "You may be more than accomplished Voldemort, but you will not get through my mind anymore. Haven't you noticed, despite being close to each other, my mind remains closed to you?"

With a cry of frustration, Voldemort threw him halfway across the room. Harry landed painfully against the desk, cutting his lip down to his chin against some ornament.

Harry got up again, thankful that he was finally out Voldemort's clutch as the pain in his head receded a little. Laughing again, Harry made his way towards the door slowly, blood dripping down onto his shirt from his face. Before going out, Harry looked back at Voldemort who was staring at him, livid.

"Learn some respect, my lord," he said mockingly, "and maybe I will willingly tell you what you need to know."

Just then Dusty appeared in front of the study, gasping at the sight of Harry and cowering from the rage he could feel emanating from the Dark Lord.

Harry smiled at the house elf with his bloody mouth and said, "How about some of that supper now, Dusty?"

Dusty cast one last terrified look at Voldemort before squeaking, "Right this way sir!" and led the way down to the kitchens.

A/N: So, that was about 3K words, hope you guys found it okay. Not one of the best pieces I've written (I felt the first chapter flowed more) but since the story is just settling in right now, an awkward chapter was necessary.

Plotwise, one of the Hallows has been introduced and in the next chapter the other two will be as well. We'll also find out how the surviving horcrux is doing.

As for the 'in-character' thing I mentioned last chapter, I'm not sure how it worked out in this chapter. I know LV was pretty OOC with some of his dialogues and I like wordy dialogues so some of Harry's were kinda un-Harry like as well :( But, since they are a figment of Rowling's imagination and not mine, I'm kinda coming to the conclusion that whatever I do with them will be OC :P

Lastly, thank you all so much for the reviews and alerts! I'd love some more reviews on this chapter and some ideas on how you guys think you want the story to continue. I'm hoping I'll be able to update chapters weekly, but like with this update, it's easy for me to get delayed. I am a first year Engineering student, so life is very high in stress levels for me right now (Writing is my respite :D ) but don't worry, I will complete this story!

Thanks for reading!