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 few lines are taken directly out of OoP

A/N: Was sick, 'nuff said. Detailed (very) A/N relating to the story follows the chapter. Please read.

Chapter 3

Harry spat blood into the sink, watching the crimson swirl out of sight with the water gushing from faucet. His ghostly visage caught his eyes as he looked up to the window behind the sink.

He grimaced at his state and the pain causing the lower half of his face to throb. A jagged cut ran from the right side of his bottom lip to the edge of jaw. The wound didn't seem too deep but it was painful nonetheless.

Wondering what could have made such a cut, Harry turned away from the sink, looking around the large kitchen for something that could help him. Despite being of age, he had not yet quite mastered the art of healing. He did know how to fix broken noses and he recalled a friend, Luna, telling him that toes weren't too different either. A bold slash such as this one stumped him though, and he found himself thinking longingly of Hermione's bean bag containing the miraculous essence of dittany.

His gaze fell on the still whimpering elf a few ways off.

"Dusty, are you alright?" he asked, twisting his face slightly as he tasted the sharp tang of his own blood.

"Such rage, Master Potter. Dusty was terribly terrified," Dusty shuddered.

"It's alright, don't worry about Voldemort. I have reason to think that he is usually this short tempered," Harry shrugged, "I suppose he needs to keep up with his angry image of a Dark Lord."

Dusty gave a squeak of protest at Voldemort's name but was otherwise silent.

"You used to be at Malfoy Manor right? I recall him having episodes there as well. You should be used to them," Harry said frowning.

He could remember some particularly nasty visions he'd seen in Dark Lords mind when he had tortured his followers during this past year. Since the Dark Lord had made Malfoy Manor his lair of sorts, Harry thought no creature in the house would have been spared his anger while he stayed there.

"Dusty worked in the kitchens with the other house elves, Master Potter," said Dusty, "he never had to go and fac- I m-mean serve the Dark Lord personally."

He supposed he had been mistaken. The old pureblood family's manor was big enough that even Voldemort's anger did not reach all boundaries...

"I see. Well, as you can see I can't exactly enjoy your supper in my current state. Do you think there is anything that can help me around here? Essence of Dittany? Band-Aids?" he asked hopefully.

"Dusty does not know about essences and banadads," Dusty said apologetically, his ears drooping further. "But he could heals the master if he so wishes."

"That sounds good. But have you healed someone before?" Harry was a little apprehensive about how the elf magic would affect him.

"Only other elves Master Potter, but he is sure that it won't hurt Master!"

Harry sighed, the blood staring to drip again. What did he have to lose? "Go ahead then."

He sat down on a bar stool along the counter of the kitchen as the elf scrambled up on the stool beside him. Standing up on the stool so that he stood slightly above Harry, Dusty closed his eyes in concentration and snapped his fingers.

Harry's eyes burned and he held in a yelp from the sudden sensation. He had felt as though someone had zipped up the broken skin on his face. A protruding, half-healed scar could be felt by his fingers as he ran them gently across the broken skin.

Harry thanked Dusty enthusiastically when he felt the pain lesson considerably. The elf gave him another toothy grin and ran about setting up Harry's dinner.

The smell of the thick stew almost made him drool and his stomach grumbled loudly.

Dusty placed the food in front of him and gave a low bow. Without waiting a second, Harry started wolfing down the stew and the bread Dusty had provided alongside.

After three bowls in quick succession had burned his tongue and he had finished three quarters of the loaf of bread, Harry sat back smiling contentedly.

He unashamedly took another bowl, reasoning that there was a very good possibility that his already unstable life could always oscillate to the point where he would again have to go on days without food.

He sipped the stew slowly now, savouring the taste rather than just giving his body sustenance.

He looked around at Dusty and thanked him again for the wonderful food. The house elf smiled uncertainly and waved off the appreciation, still unused to being thanked for doing his duty.

"If there is nothing more for Dusty to do here, he should leave and get a start on getting the manor in order." Harry nodded with his mouth full of soup. He looked after the elf who scurried out of sight, but not before casting a terrified look at the stairs leading upstairs to where Voldemort probably still paced his study.

Harry closed his eyes, putting down the fourth - now empty - bowl of soup. He could still feel the Dark Lord's anger but at a distance, almost as though someone had erected an invisible barrier of sorts between them.

The cool yet poignant scent of the sea filled his mind as he recollected the time when he had found out how to finally keep Voldemort out of his mind.

Shell Cottage... The beautiful cottage situated at the edge of the sea where his faithful friend, so like the house elf that had just left the kitchen, had died.

Consumed with grief over Dobby's death at the time, Harry had hardly felt Voldemort's anger at Harry having escaped so narrowly from his clutches as Malfoy Manor once again. It was then he realized that grief or in Dumbledore's terms, love, kept Voldemort out. He supposed that because of the soulless being his numerous horcruxes had caused him to become, emotions that he could not relate to kept him from sharing Harry's mind. Since then, Harry had been careful to keep reminding himself of all his friends that had died at the hands of Voldemort and his death eaters while he thought up of anything even remotely important.

It was hard and it had made him rather weak and distant from everything else, but it had also helped immensely. After being freed from the frequent episodes of seeing inside Voldemort's mind, Harry had been able to think again and draw conclusions as to what had needed to be done next.

It was after talking to Ollivander in such a mindset that Harry had realized the loophole that could potentially save him from the Dark Lord. He'd realized that despite possessing the Elder Wand, Voldemort was not its true owner.

The true owner was actually... none other than Harry himself.

Carefully replaying the events after Dumbledore's death, Harry came to the conclusion that after Dumbledore, the wand's true owner had been Malfoy, who has disarmed Dumbledore before Snape had gotten there. After overpowering Malfoy at the Manor, Harry had then gained ownership over the most sought after wand in the world.

Of course, Voldemort knew none of this. He'd thought killing, as usual, was the solution to all problems. Subtlety did not come easy to someone such as Voldemort, despite underestimation of the simpler things in life having been his downfall countless times. Now playing on that weakness again, Harry had to work out a way to keep the Elder Wand out of Voldemort's ownership.

But first, there had to be some way for him to get stronger. Just some way for Harry Potter to finally hold his own against the Dark Lord. But how...? Dumbledore would have said that his ability to love would be enough ... but recent events hadn't exactly left Harry feeling warmed up to the dead man. Dumbledore's past mistakes had made him as big a hypocrite as anyone and the recent revelations about Harry's predesigned death also put a sour taste in Harry's mouth.

Past mistakes ... Dumbledore had gone wrong in the same place countless wizards had ... unable to resist the pull of power. Was there really no one who could resist that temptation?

Then as sudden as the ray of sunlight that illuminates the world when the sun breaks free of the clouds, the answer came to Harry.

The grandfather clock in the room Harry had adopted as his own showed that it was half past one in the morning. The constant tick of the clock was loud against the ever-present silence of the manor. He did not mind it though; the periodic tick became a soothing background to his raging thoughts.

Harry leaned back into the threadbare cushions of the chaise where he was lounging, shirtless, with some old trousers on possibly belonging to Tom Riddle Sr. or Riddle's father.

He wasn't especially keen to be wearing a dead man's clothing but after giving it a moment's thought, couldn't bring himself to care. His own clothes had been taken down for a wash by Dusty and he didn't have much choice in terms of wardrobe. His rucksack had been lost somewhere along his travels with Ron and Hermione and with it, his clothes and any other daily necessities he had owned were gone as well.

Thankfully, the moleskin pouch given to him by Hagrid had still managed to retain its place around his neck. He didn't care too much about the rucksack, but the pouch's contents were invaluable.

He caressed the feebly struggling snitch in his hand. He gazed at the snitch, frowning. I open at the close ... What did that mean...?

Harry tensed suddenly as he felt slight movement outside his door and quickly slipped the snitch back into the pouch. The light from the cozy fire Dusty had lit for him did nothing to disperse the shadows outside the door.

The shadows then shifted slightly as Voldemort emerged from them, his robes melting into form from the shadows, giving him wraith-like appearance. Harry stood up hastily, his heart in his throat. The pouch, which had been lying in his lap, fell to the floor and its contents spilled all about.

Harry's eyes strayed to the table on the other side of the fireplace where Draco's wand lay uselessly. He forced himself to look back at Voldemort.

Voldemort stood there with a lazy elegance, his eyes unfathomable. With inhuman fluidity, the Dark Lord raised his arm. There was slight shift in the air around his long fingers as the Elder Wand appeared within their cage.

Harry's hands were a clammy cold by now and he felt hopelessly vulnerable in front of the other man.

Voldemort glanced at the wand, then back at Harry before abruptly thrusting out his arm and saying expressionlessly, "Crucio,"

Harry's eyes widened as he saw the cruel red light shoot out of the Elder Wand ... and then something most peculiar happened. The light hit him square in the chest, but there was no pain at all. He merely lurched forward as though someone had given him a rough shove but the horrid pain that was expected was nowhere to be found. Harry regained his balance, his eyes still wide. He let out a slow breath of relief but his legs still shook.

"Just as I suspected ..." spoke Voldemort softly.

Harry raised his face to meet his gaze, palms clenched into fists.

Voldemort twirled the wand lightly in his fingers and started to walk deeper inside the room. Fighting the urge to take a step back like his instincts screamed at him to do, Harry stood rooted to the spot, heart still hammering.

Voldemort strolled right past Harry, whose eyes followed every step. The Dark Lord sat down on the high backed chair beside the fire and leaned back, arms resting on either side of the chair and legs crossed.

He looked like an evil king upon his throne and Harry suddenly felt like a prisoner brought to his execution.

"Sit down. I'm afraid we have much to discuss," Voldemort ordered in his silky voice.

Harry sat down on the edge of his recently vacated seat, mind racing with what Voldemort would do now.

Shaken, through Harry still was, he'd already known this would happen eventually. He just didn't know it would happen so soon. Voldemort had realized Harry was the true owner of the wand faster than Harry could have ever dreamed. He still held on to his last hope though. Voldemort still sat at the zenith of arrogance and Harry hoped that from his high seat there, he'd still been unable to figure out a few points.

Voldemort was silent, looking at Harry with his extraordinary eyes. Oddly, Harry found himself thinking about how different that gaze was from that of his headmaster. Dumbledore's eyes had x-rayed right through him while Voldemort's eyes ... they hypnotized him. Harry found it dangerously easy to lose himself in the sea of red. Harry knew this was because of the piece of soul inside him but nevertheless it scared him. In the light of his recent plans, it was crucial that he remain in control of himself at all times, never allowing the slightest weakness to come forth in front of Voldemort.

Harry shook himself mentally out his stupor. Despite having 'much to discuss' Voldemort remained silent.

Harry broke the silence. "Well...?"

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at him with something almost like surprise on his face, as though he'd just realized Harry could talk.

Harry face set itself into a scowl. "I am not one of your stupid Death Eaters who won't interrupt your silence in fear of being silenced forever. You said you had much to discuss didn't you? Get on with it already."

This time it was Harry's turn to be surprised when instead of spitting like an angry snake, Voldemort smiled at him, albeit mockingly.

"In that sense you are very much right. You are not one my faithful Death Eaters," Voldemort said pleasantly, "However..."

Voldemort's wand-free hand twisted slightly and Harry found himself unable to breathe. He clawed at invisible hands against his throat, eyes bulging.

The Dark Lord's hand twitched again and Harry took in huge gulps of air, hands now massaging his reddening neck.

"However," Voldemort continued as though nothing had happened, "I expect you to retain some subservience to your betters ... Or did Dumbledore not even teach that you much?"

"Subservience to my betters isn't something that is supposed to be taught," Harry spoke in a raspy voice, "It is supposed to come naturally to people you respect. And I don't respect you. So go ahead Riddle, choke me again, but I will never stoop so low as to kiss your robes like those pathetic dogs."

A cold rage burned through Harry but Voldemort merely smiled again and said, "Oh won't you..."

"That's right, I won't."

Voldemort leaned back further into his chair, shadows crossing his face. Only the barest flash of red was visible amid some slivers of his pale reptilian face.

Harry looked away from him, staring into the fire. His throat ached and the ache put him on his guard. Voldemort had effectively shown him that he was not limited to the use of a wand in order to cause pain.

There was slight tap of wood against wood and Harry looked up to see that Voldemort had picked up Malfoy's wand from the table beside him. He examined it in the firelight as a string of swear words ran through Harry's head. He'd been foolish to leave that lying around.

"Hawthorn ... this wand belongs to?"

"A snatcher," lied Harry calmly.

Voldemort gave no indication that he'd heard, still examining the wand. Harry's eyes bored into the bottom half of his face that he could see by the firelight, stomach knotting painfully.

"I would suspect that this wand does not work well for you ... just as the Elder Wand does not for me..." Voldemort sounded almost as though he was speaking to himself but Harry tensed.

The hawthorn wand worked perfectly for him because he'd won it from Malfoy. However, Harry was sure that Voldemort either was or had been, under the illusion that wands could only be won from their previous owner by killing them. It seemed unlikely that after studying such volumes on wandlore that Voldemort would be ignorant to the fact that a simple disarming spell worked well enough to change ownership. The question, though, was that if he knew this applied to the Elder Wand as well.

In the end, Harry chose to say nothing. Voldemort hadn't asked him anything so he was not obligated to reply.

Neither fooled the other though as Harry leaned back into the chaise in his silence and Voldemort's face came out of the shadows, studying Harry again. Harry suddenly felt self-conscious. Harry fought to keep from looking away from Voldemort as his eyes raked over his face and the scar running down from the corner of his mouth to his jaw line. As they moved to his bare chest, Harry found himself suddenly caring a lot that he was wearing Voldemort's dead father's pants.

Voldemort didn't comment on his appearance but a small smirk started to play upon his mouth as he glanced down and took in the objects still scattered on the floor from Harry's moleskin pouch.

The snitch, the mirror shard from Sirius, the parchment that was the Marauder's map and... the pieces of his old broken wand.

"The wand that was brother to my own..." Voldemort trailed off, looking at Harry almost smugly, knowing the answer to his question.

Harry pursed his lips and indicated the broken pieces at his feet with quick jut of his jaw.

Voldemort smiled completely now and a second wand then appeared in his hands, his old wand, made of yew.

Harry tensed again, resigned now, for there was nothing that could stop him from being crucioed this time. Nails dug into his palm as he prepared himself for the pain...

"Legillimens!"

A sharp pain made itself known in Harry's head and his eyes started watering. He clutched his scar, howling with pain. But the pain receded as quick as it had come and Harry was suddenly seeing memories that were not his own...

... He saw a baby in standing in a crib and the corpse of a red haired woman on the floor, as Harry turned his wand on the baby and spoke in a high cold voice, 'Avada Kedavra'...

... He saw an 11-year-old Harry, staring at him defiantly, the Philosopher's stone clutched in his hands ...

... Harry again, this time bound to the headstone in the graveyard, screaming in pain as he touched him on the scar ...

... And it was Harry and Harry over and over, his faces over the years swimming in front of his eyes at blinding speed ...

The images suddenly stopped and then he saw another clear memory of himself, standing in front of the Dumbledore's pensive, looking lifeless and despondent.

The figure of Harry then transformed into a young Voldemort, who looked just as haunted and devastated as Harry had looked. Young Tom Riddle Jr. raised his wand arm and spoke, his voice cracking, 'Die... Father,' and emerald light shot out of his wand, blinding him and Harry was thrust back into the real world again, out of Lord Voldemort's memories.

Harry was on his knees in front of the chaise, back at Riddle Manor. He was breathing heavily and flashes of what he'd just seen swam in front of his eyes.

Harry couldn't comprehend what he'd seen. He knew he had just seen Voldemort's memories of himself through Voldemort's eyes... but their meaning and significance he could not decipher. Why had they all been about him? And what in bloody hell was that last memory?

He looked up and saw that Voldemort was standing in front of him, rigid with anger. The man wasn't panting like Harry was, but his breathing was deeper than before.

Harry got up to his feet slowly, still having to look up at the Dark Lord nonetheless.

Voldemort sneered at him, "Pleased Harry? Most people would kill for what you just saw, insight into the Dark Lord's mind ..."

"I didn't do it willingly, your spell backfired," Harry said, eyes narrowing.

"Backfire it did," Voldemort hissed, "Perhaps you enlighten me as to why ..."

Harry let out a huff of air and slid past Voldemort, uncomfortable at being so close to the man whose most curious memories he'd just shared, and scoffed, "How am I supposed to know?"

Voldemort did not answer and instead sat down on Harry's chaise, looking as though it was made for him. Harry stood awkwardly beside the door, unwilling to sit in Voldemort's chair. It just held too many memories.

"Well then perhaps you can answer my other query. The Elder Wand ... how did you come to possess it?" The knot in Harry's stomach loosened considerably. So Voldemort did not know how he'd gotten the Elder Wand... but then how had he realized that Harry was the owner?

"I'm not going to answer that,"

"I thought you might say so," Voldemort said amused and Harry looked at him suspiciously.

"Well, dear soul-carrier, we find ourselves in quite a dilemma..." Voldemort still sounded amused.

"I think the dilemma is all yours, Voldemort, I'm in the same position as I was before," Harry said coolly.

Voldemort laughed softly and Harry was surprised that it wasn't his usual cold laugh but one that was almost... human? "Is that so? I would have thought that you would want some more information out of me about the recent happenings..."

Voldemort had caught him there. Harry was desperate for information and Voldemort knew it. Still he wouldn't divulge the information so willingly.

"I propose an even trade... I'll answer a question of yours, and you can answer mine," saying this, Voldemort curled up on chaise like a coiled snake, dangerous, but subdued for the time being. Harry leaned back into the doorframe, one knee bent with the foot resting on the wall behind him and the other straight as an anchor.

"Fine," said Harry, "But I will not answer why I am the owner of the Elder Wand."

Voldemort hissed softly, but said, "Of course. You may begin."

"What's going on at Hogwarts?" Harry asked quickly, "and in the wizarding world?"

"Forever the chosen one, aren't you? Caring about his people... the perfect saviour," Voldemort mocked.

Harry remained silent, looking at Voldemort coldly.

"... Most of the members of Dumbledore's precious order have been locked up. The school has been taken over by my followers. After the downfall of Thicknesse, the ministry still remains under the control of the Aurors and the Order."

Harry said nothing. Hogwarts was taken over by Death Eaters... "What about the kids at Hogwarts?" he asked finally.

"After our untimely disappearance, the battle raged on between the Death Eaters and the Order. The Death Eaters won but because of my absence, they did not come out as well as I'd hoped. Ah, your precious little friends were able escape though ... seems as if your unmatched luck favoured them this time in regards of getting captured," Voldemort smirked at him at the last words.

Harry closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds, thankful that there hadn't been anymore deaths.

He then turned his face slightly away from where Voldemort sat and said, "I came to this manor willingly with you. Should I still choose to escape, I'm sure you would still have a hard time finding me."

"The horcrux Harry ... you forget your own existence. I could find you in the merest of moments."

"But the fact that my mind is closed to yours would still hinder you."

"Not considerably. But that brings me to a question of my own. Why is your mind no longer open to me?"

Harry sighed. He hated that every one of Voldemort's question would put him at a disadvantage yet everyone of his own would not affect the Dark Lord in the slightest.

"Think back to the Ministry... when Sirius died. You could possess my body for a long time without causing yourself pain, right?"

Voldemort inclined his head to show he remembered.

"Well," Harry continued, "according to Dumbledore, it was because I can love and you cannot. Its the 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' ... because of that, I figured out that whenever I feel love for those I care about, you cannot even access my mind. So there is shield of sorts up between my mind and yours now."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, "Dumbledore's weak excuse surfaces yet again... fine be that as it may, but this, 'power the Dark Lord knows not' ... I can only think it relates to the whole contents of the prophecy..."

Harry mentally smacked himself.

"Yes it does but I think it's my turn to ask now."

Voldemort gave him a slightly exasperated look but nodded once again, eyes upon Harry's scar now.

Harry shifted in his position against the wall slightly, "How did you know I'm a horcrux?"

"Elementary. The soul in a horcrux has the ability to flit out of its shell from time to time... and Nagini killed Snape. I'm sure you can put two and two together."

"But Snape was a powerful occlumens and the attack only lasted a few seconds," Harry stated, bewildered.

Voldemort stood up, and faced the window over the chaise, his back to Harry.

"The moment when death comes to take you puts you at your most vulnerable. No matter how powerful an occlumens you are, all shields come down as if made of nothing but vapour ... as for time, the memories were floating up to the forefront of Snape's mind anyway, since he knew he had to find a way to give them to you ..."

"I see," said Harry in almost a whisper. Nagini had seen the Half-Blood prince's memories as she'd killed him. After she'd reported her findings to her Master, Voldemort had probably followed Harry to Dumbledore's office where they'd then confronted each other...

"The true contents of the prophecy then, Harry," Voldemort said softly, back still to Harry, "this is, perhaps the most important question I'm asking you, far more than the Elder Wand... as it concerns both of our existences."

Harry found himself nodding despite the fact that Voldemort could not see him. He agreed completely. If 'Neither can live while the other survives', then how would Harry still continue living as Voldemort's horcrux?

"I need a-"

Before Harry could finish, Voldemort had already waved his Yew wand and a pensive like Dumbledore's appeared on the coffee table beside the fireplace.

Harry walked over to it and put Draco's wand to his temple. He did not notice that Voldemort had turned around to look at him.

Thinking back to the time right after Sirius' death two years ago, Harry pulled his wand slowly away from his temple.

He looked at the glowing, sliver threads of memories hanging from his wand and shook them into the pensive. He then beckoned Voldemort with a nod and the two of them leaned close to pensive, falling into Harry's memories.

The office was quite different from the perfect state both Voldemort and Harry had seen it in when they'd left it two nights ago. The office from two years ago was in shambles, Dumbledore's worldly possessions lying in splinters and pieces all over the office. Voldemort looked around curiously and Harry felt a flush creeping up on his neck. He remembered his untameable anger all too well from that night, but looking around, he hadn't realized that he'd caused this much damage.

He was saved from explaining by the headmaster though, who sat back down on his chair behind the desk and prodded the pensive with his wand.

A figure rose out of it, draped in shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size behind her glasses. Sybil Trelawney then spoke and Harry's eyes strayed to where the Dark Lord stood beside him. He was, however, surprised to find that Voldemort's eyes were instead on the Harry from two years past, sitting on the chair in front of the desk. He looked terrible, with dark shadows under his eyes behind the cracked glasses. His untidy black hair was matted in places with blood and he sat with his hands gripping the base of the chair underneath him.

Harry was shocked to see how cold but pained his green eyes looked. The face was impassive, bordering on curious as he stared at the figure in the pensive but his eyes...

The figure then began to speak but Voldemort's crimson eyes stayed fixated on the younger Harry. Harry knew he was listening carefully though and he listened a bit distractedly, hands growing cold at the words that rasped out of Trelawney's mouth.

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ...'

Voldemort's eyes still stayed firmly on the past Harry.

'And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ...'

Voldemort's eyes snapped up to look at the revolving figure and then at Dumbledore. Dumbledore was staring at the figure, expression unreadable.

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ...'

Voldemort's crimson eyes had hardened in anger now and Harry stared at him, confused. The world around them started to dissolve slowly and he felt himself rising up to go back to the current time. Harry looked around the room, disoriented as he always was when coming out the pensive. He then moved his eyes to Voldemort who was staring at the pensive, eyes still angry.

"What is it?" Harry asked confused, voice coming out, for the first time since he'd been brought here, not angry nor cold. Voldemort turned to him and he saw hesitation on the Dark Lord's face. Harry was even more confused now. He repeated his question, anger coming back into his voice.

"The prophecy ... has been tampered with."

"What?"

Voldemort did not reply but continued staring at the pensive. Harry could not believe his ears...

"Are you serious?"

Voldemort gave him distasteful look at his question and said, "Of course, I am. It was as plain as day. I'm sure if even you went back and looked at the prophecy, rather than stare at me as you did, you'd see the trace of magic and interference. A fifteen year-old boy however..."

Harry disregarded the part about him staring at Voldemort; it'd been Voldemort who'd been staring first, even if it was at his past self.

"So you mean to say, someone tampered with the prophecy in order to fool me?"

Voldemort nodded his affirmation, "And not someone, but Dumbledore himself."

"How can you be so sure?" It came out in a soft voice.

Voldemort mouth twisted slightly, "He was the only wizard powerful enough ... after myself of course," Voldemort smirked slightly at the last remark, but his eyes remained grave.

Betrayed. Over and over again. Harry took slow steps away from the table before turning around completely to leave the room. He needed to think... and be away from the one being whose presence had always been nothing but chaos for him.

He stepped out of the door, and practically ran down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, a cold voice interrupted his escape.

Harry stopped on the last step, teeth clenching. Of course, how would Voldemort be able to resist spiting and mocking him after such a back stab from his own side? He turned back to look at Voldemort.

Voldemort had the Elder Wand back in his hands. Seeing Harry's gaze, Voldemort tossed the wand towards him and Harry, reflexes sharp as ever, caught it, confused.

"You may not leave Little Hangleton. I also expect you back here by sunrise. We leave for Malfoy Manor in the morning."

Harry nodded, frowning and said, "This wand ..."

Voldemort's face remained indifferent as usual, but there was something strange in his eyes.

"You may keep it ... and use it."

Harry's mouth fell open. "What?"

"... In return, you will offer certain services to me. I'm sure you have realized by now that you have been reported missing in the wizarding world."

Harry's eyebrows knitted themselves; no, he had not realized that.

"Naturally, I intend to use that to my complete advantage ... the boy-who-lived, in league with the Dark Lord. I can imagine the headlines already..." Voldemort smiled coldly, eyes back to their original cruelty.

Harry swore out loud. The mansion shook slightly, ancient doors and windows trembling. Harry felt magic coursing through his veins alongside rage. He wanted to say something, just anything to cause the ruthless and apathetic man standing there the same amount of pain he was feeling at the moment.

Instead he simply turned around and walked out of the manor, as rain began to lash against the glass-paned windows.

A/N: Long chapter, I know, but necessary. I think most chapters from now on will come close to this length. They won't have this many dialogues though... this chap was pretty annoying to write, 'Harry said, Voldemort said, Harry said, Voldemort said'... and so on and so forth

The last chapter raised a few questions in the reviews and I'm really glad people are paying such close attention to the story. I'm also a little uneasy. I hope everyone realizes that this story begins near the end of DH when Harry has just found out from Snape's memories in Dumbledore's office that he is a horcrux. Voldemort finds out the same thing (through Nagini as mentioned above) and sort of kidnaps Harry from Hogwarts. So this is basically a twisted continuation of the amazing last book.

A LOT happens in this chapter so I'm just gonna list out some things that are key. If you think you're keeping up with my all-over-the-place writing, feel free to skip this:

Harry is a horcrux.
There is a prophecy about Harry and Voldemort, it's been tampered with by Dumbledore so true contents are unknown.
By the end of chapter, Harry is in possession of two Hallows, the wand and the ring, even if he doesn't know how to get it out of the snitch yet (he lost the cloak with his rucksack).
Harry's mind is closed to Voldemort because he can 'love' and Voldemort can't (direct reference to DH).
Harry's own wand broke, he was using Draco's wand. How Harry is the owner of the Elder Wand should have been clear in this chapter and it is the same as DH.
Voldemort knows (you don't know how yet) that Harry is the owner of Elder Wand, but he doesn't know how he came to be the owner.
Ministry is under the control of Aurors and Order; Hogwarts is closed, sort of a no-man's ground but mostly under Voldemort's control.
Hermione and Ron are alive and there are no 'new' deaths (Fred is still dead); Voldemort plans to use Harry against the light.
Harry's 'illuminating' answer in the first part of this chapter has something to do with the Hallows (as you all probably guessed).
Oh and you'll all get to see some Death Eaters next chap.

So that's it relating to the plotline. This was a summary of sorts, hope it helped. I won't be updating for a while now, finals are coming up and I need to study, sorry.

Lastly, I'm also thinking of starting a new fic come Christmas holidays. Entity will still be my main focus but this story just won't leave my head.

It's a pureblood fic, focusing on the life from childhood to womanhood of the three sisters, Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda, with special focus on Narcissa. Please review and tell me if you would be interested in reading something like that. I realize it's probably been done before... but it'll be different, quite honestly just because I'm the one writing it :P it'll also be serious with serious plotlines and lots of romance :) Pairings: Andromeda/Ted, Lucius/Narcissa and Bellatrix/Rodolphus but Bellatrix/Voldemort one-sided (with the exception of B/LV, I'm making it so that everyone meets at school)

And I'm out for now, hope to be back to updating soon. Please Review :) enough reviews and I'll update BEFORE finals (there is still like 3 weeks to go before them but yes, I am unashamedly bribing here).

Thank you for reading!