A/N: Not much feedback but I can't help myself from posting.
CHAPTER 3
Hoot. Hoot.
Harry rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head in attempts to fend off the sound of an owl from his throbbing head. He curled up and settled back into the warmth of the hard bed.
Hoot. Hoot.
"Hedwig?" Harry asked groggily, still keeping his head under the blanket.
Hoot.
Harry stuck his hand out and felt his owl nip his finger lightly before he rubbed her head. "It's nice to finally see you girl." He received another hoot and heard her fly back to her perch. With a mournful sigh Harry forced himself to sit up, though his body felt like it had gone two rounds with hippogriff. The afternoon light was blinding and Harry shielded his eyes as he reached for his glasses. When he could finally see he tried to think around the pain in his head.
What had happened? Why was he in bed?
And then his gaze found a man standing in front of his window and Harry nearly leaped out of bed with a strangled yelp. The man turned and Harry found himself staring wide eyed at a very human looking Dark Lord. Voldemort's face was expressionless but his gaze roamed Harry's body causing Harry to look down and turn scarlet as he found himself in only boxers. With another yelp Harry dove for the blanket, only to stop and pull himself back up.
With wide eyes Harry stared at his torso and the memories of his uncle's beating flashed through his mind. However brutal Vernon had been there was not a trace of black or blue on Harry's skin. In fact apart from some tenderness there was no stabbing pain or deformities. His hand shot to his nose and Harry gaped at Voldemort when he found it was once again straight, as if it had never been broken.
"You healed me," Harry sputtered breathlessly, almost unable to wrap his mind around the fact.
"I did." Voldemort confirmed as his arms crossed his torso.
"Why?" Not that Harry wasn't grateful, but he honestly hadn't expected to wake up, let alone wake up fully healed. Especially not by Voldemort, the man who had tried to kill him the past five years running.
For a moment a flash of something crossed the Dark Lord's face but it was gone before Harry could distinguish it and once again the man's face was blank. "You called for me."
Harry felt his jaw drop, absentmindedly noting the lack of pain, and he gaped at Voldemort. He had called for him? What was the Dark Lord a house elf now? Harry's eyes widened and he realized he had said that last part out loud when Voldemort's face twisted into an angry sneer.
"I'm sorry," Harry backed away quickly, not wanting to send the man into a rage.
"I expect a little more respect as I did save your life." The man's sneer dropped as Harry nodded and he turned back to the window. "You're relatives are gone, I suggest you prepare a proper meal in their absence."
"You didn't kill them?" Even to his own ears, Harry sounded highly disappointed and the man's lips twitched into a hint of a smirk. It definitely should not have been the first question to pop into his mind but the pang of guilt never came.
"No I did not." Green eyes rolled and Harry mumbled about pulling teeth as he pulled his discarded pants on. His shirt was unsalvageable due to the amount of blood that had stained it. As he walked to the door he felt Voldemort following him and wondered just why the man was here, not trying to kill him. It was surreal and Harry couldn't help but be hypersensitive in case this weird bout of sanity wore off and the man went deranged again.
With his hand on the door Harry merely thought about the locks before he heard eight simultaneous clicks and Harry's eyes went wide. He had never performed wandless magic so easily before, most of the time he had to concentrate on each of the locks one at a time. Harry looked back to Voldemort and fond the man smirking smugly as if this had just confirmed something. With a sigh Harry opened the door and made his way down the hall, too hungry to care about the oddity of the situation. Though he did spare a longing glance at the cupboard that stored his wand, at least now he was closer to it than before.
Voldemort sat at the breakfast bar and watched Harry with a silent expressionless gaze and left the boy feeling completely addled. His hands shook as he cooked the eggs and buttered a piece of toast but he also indulged with a glass of orange juice and a banana, feeling certain the Dursley's would die if they tried to punish him for it with the Dark Lord here. That thought brought a smirk to his lips, however long the man stayed here was like a security blanket Harry didn't have since Sirius had been killed.
"Will you tell me why you're here?" Harry asked as he flipped his omelet. "Are you letting me have a last meal before you kill me?"
"Oh," Harry continued before Voldemort could talk and the man's eyes flashed in annoyance. "Could you at least let me watch you kill the muggles before you kill me? Maybe get Bellatrix involved?"
That last comment made the hint of a smirk back on the older man's lips and Harry felt himself blush and turn back around to the eggs. "I have always been here, and no I am not going to kill you nor your relatives." Voldemort sneered the word relatives and Harry's breath felt like it had been knocked out of him. Not to say he was disappointed by the supposed promise of not killing him, which was fine and dandy he supposed, but more like he was frustrated the muggles wouldn't die.
"What do you mean you have always been here?" Harry asked, deciding to let the muggle killing drop for now in hopes that he could sway the man later.
For a long moment Voldemort looked torn and Harry watched with a sick curiosity as the man obviously debated with himself. Finally after a long moment he looked up and crimson eyes locked with emerald, "Do you remember when you asked Dumbledore how you could speak Parseltongue in your second year?"
Harry's eyes widened and he nearly dropped the spatula in his hands, "You know about that?"
"Of course I know about that," Voldemort scoffed. "I know everything about you."
Somehow Harry doubted that, no matter how many spies the man had. Harry had secrets that no one knew, like the book in his bedroom for instance. "Yes I remember, he said that you transferred a bit of your power to me on accident."
Crimson eyes closed and Voldemort pinched the bridge of his nose in clear frustration, "Harry, you cannot transfer magical power from one core to another. It is impossible otherwise witches and wizards would go around draining those weaker than themselves for more power."
Once again Harry found himself being faced with another lie of the headmaster's and felt his jaw clench. "Then what?" He asked through clenched teeth, ignoring the pain in his jaw. "How is it I can speak Parseltongue?"
Harry turned off the stove, promptly forgetting all about the eggs and looked directly to Voldemort. "It was not my power that I transferred Harry, it was a sliver of my soul." This time Harry really did drop the spatula and his mouth fell open to gape. That wasn't possible! There couldn't be a- a sliver of Voldemort's soul in his head!
"Indeed." Voldemort hummed in agreement. "I surmise my counterpart would react in much the same way. However it is true. It is why I know every detail of your life from the night I tried to kill you and it is also why you see me now. You called on me, instinctively knowing that you had no other choice, and dropped the significant amount of your magic that you had been using to keep me locked in the darkest corners of your mind.
"You will find," Voldemort carried on as if he were talking of the weather, "that your magic will be significantly more powerful now, as you have witnessed upstairs when you unlocked your door."
Harry could only stare at Voldemort in a dumbfounded stupor before a new realization hit him with the brunt force of his uncle's fists. "How am I supposed to kill you if there's a bit of you stuck in my head?" Not that he was still planning on fighting in this ridiculous war when he had more important things to worry about, but still if either of the men got in his way Harry had resolved to cowardly kill them with poison or something.
Voldemort's expression darkened and Harry felt his heart skipped a beat. "You are a horcrux Harry, a container for a significantly large piece of my soul. You cannot kill me without first killing yourself."
For a brief moment the world seemed to stop before Harry tried to draw in a deep breath, finding himself unable due to the tightness in his chest. "He knew!" Harry growled and he gasped for breath. "Dumbledore knew I was a horcrux and that I would have to die."
"I suppose it's probable," Voldemort agreed, "that he indeed had a theory, however he has not yet performed any such diagnostics to confirm or deny it. He always was one to jump blindly on a hunch."
Harry snorted and stared pointedly at Voldemort, "You're one to talk."
Voldemort stiffened and Harry watched his face become a cool mask of indifference once again. "I have torn my soul apart multiple times and in the face of insanity I am still a superior strategist than that old man could ever hope to be."
"Multiple times?" Harry asked in shock, ignoring his bragging. "You have more, er- horcruxes?"
Harry watched Voldemort nod and faintly felt his gut twist though he brushed that away as quickly as it had come. Needing a moment to process this new information Harry scooped his omelet onto his plate and grabbed the glass of orange juice before sitting beside Voldemort at the bar. "So he doesn't know he made you?"
"No he is not aware at the present time." Voldemort finished in a clipped manner and Harry was almost positive that there was more that he was going to say but didn't.
After swallowing some eggs Harry couldn't help but ask, "So what's keeping you here? Go rejoin your- er- other self."
"That is a more complicated issue than you would be lead to believe." Harry hadn't ever seen the Dark Lord look uncomfortable and he watched with fascination as the man actually looked away from him.
"How so?" Harry dug into the rest of his omelet with gusto and waited for Voldemort to answer.
"It seems my dilemma goes above and beyond the complex ritual in which to reintegrate with my main soul piece." Voldemort paused and contemplated his next words carefully. "Perhaps if you had not destroyed my diary I would not have this problem however-"
"What's the diary have to do with anything?" Harry interrupted without thinking and clicked his jaw shut when irritation flashed through Voldemort's eyes. There was a healthy level of wariness coursing through Harry now and he decided to actually think before he spoke.
"A soul cannot move on to the next plane of existence in mere fragments. So when a horcrux is destroyed, as you destroyed mine in the Chamber, it is simply lost and without body to anchor it. Therefore if that was my only horcrux you could have killed my main soul and I would have been forever dead. However that is not what happened.
"When you destroyed the diary the soul fragment, the largest of us all, sought out my presence and we merged."
Harry nearly choked on his eggs as he dropped his fork with a loud clatter. "There's two of you inside me?"
"No," Voldemort denied in a condescending drawl as if Harry were a child and pinched the bridge of his nose, "my sixteen year old counterpart merged with me and we became one. I was already lost to the madness when I tried to kill you and splintered me off unknowingly. However when I merged with half of myself, a sane self, my sanity was restored and I achieved a more youthful appearance yet I maintained my knowledge."
Harry still didn't understand the problem in all of this, after all the man wasn't going around killing everything that breathed so where was the downside? "So what's the problem?"
At his question Voldemort gave Harry a pitying glance and Harry swallowed thickly wondering if he really wanted to know. "I know Dumbledore hasn't told you much about me Harry but there are striking parallels between you and I that have, over the course of your life, eroded away blind prejudice and left in its wake a bond that I had previously thought impossible."
"You care about me?" Harry asked, not expecting that. He was stunned into a heavy silence, only able to stare at the man who looked like he had sucked on a lemon.
Voldemort let out a heavy sigh and explained, "I had been ready for the time when I knew you would have to be cut down, not because of some secret power we know not, but because of the symbol of hope you are to the people who would deny me. Hope is a dangerous thing Harry and I could not take the risk of leaving you alive."
"So what changed?" Harry asked as he set down his orange juice. He was morbidly curious as to what had saved his life this time.
"June twenty-first you opened a book and saw more than the carefully maintained façade. It gave me hope and as I said, hope is a powerful thing." Harry looked up from his plate and at Voldemort with something akin to hope fluttering inside of him as well.
"You mean you believe that book as well?"
Voldemort nodded with a sly smirk, "Alerick Durante is an alias Harry, one I created long ago when I was Tom Riddle and a force to be reckoned with in the political arena. That book was created for the sole purpose of informing those curious of my ideals."
For a moment Harry just sat there, processing that his mortal enemy was if fact the writer he had come to admire in the last week. It took a few minutes before Harry truly comprehended this though and he bit his lip in confusion. "If those are truly your views on magic, then why are-"
Voldemort held his hand up and Harry's jaw clicked shut as if obeying a silent command. "You have to realize Harry that for two decades I fought in the political arena for people to see my logic, but they were as blinded by prejudices then as they are now. A part I suppose was due to bad timing, the war with Grindelwald had left the public even more wary than before. And then we lost our patience, my group of self-imposed Death Eaters, my first inner circle. They tired of games and getting nowhere. We recognized the need for a purge, for a complete reformation of the government and its treaties."
There was a nostalgic look in Voldemort's eyes and his lips had curled upward ever so slightly. Harry stayed quiet as he listened, watching with rapt attention of a side of the man Harry had never known. "It had to be done by force of course, most everybody realized that. I was of course the most suited to lead this crusade. So we hosted balls and galas, even dueling tournaments where we picked out the best and the brightest and of course the most influential witches and wizards of the time.
"Everything was going to plan and victory was not the distant illusion it is now, we could almost taste it. I knew Dumbledore was rallying forces against me in attempts to keep a side of magic he despised forever locked away where it would hopefully die out. So, having already made one horcrux, I used the other items I had gathered in my time and made more, but what I did not realize was that in doing so I was slowly losing touch with reality and ultimately our goals.
"Slowly but surely we became as corrupt as the masses feared us to be. They couldn't see the logic behind the raids before and could not tell the difference after, when there was none. What was once a revolution became a terroristic free for all and that was the type of people it began to attract. By the time I heard the prophecy I was so far gone that I acted without thinking. My counterpart is likely reveling in the destruction he senselessly causes, but I will use this to my advantage." Voldemort now held a smirk that rivaled the triumph of last night and Harry found himself wanting to know the secret plans this man held. Not for sabotage or fighting but because he could feel a smugness that wasn't his and it made him curious.
As he chewed over Voldemort's story he realized it did make sense. He had often wondered why the most powerful and influential families had supported and took part in the war at all but when you knew what they had been holding out for… Harry looked to Voldemort who was eyeing a banana.
"You can take it you know." Harry offered and the man smirked at him as if Harry had said something very stupid.
"While I am not your subconscious Harry, I am no more than a hallucinatory manifestation. I have no physical form so when you released me from the confines of your mind I chose to show myself as such instead of merely a voice in your head." Harry's lips formed an 'o' and out of pure curiosity he reached out to touch Voldemort. His hand hit solid matter.
Voldemort looked amused and explained, "I am in your mind Harry, of course I will feel real to you. However if someone else were to say, walk through me they would never notice the difference."
Harry couldn't help the irritated pout that formed on his lips as his thoughts of Dursley hunting went down the drain. Voldemort's lips twitched again, "If you want them dead so much you should just kill them. However you do have an alternative means of eliminating the problem."
The memory of ripping out some of Vernon's hair flashed in Harry's mind and he had a sneaking suspicion that that had something to do with these alternative means. Voldemort nodded, looking pleased. "Yes that is why I had you grab some of the muggle's hair."
"Stop doing that," Harry snapped and moved to wash his plate in the sink.
"Harry my soul has inside you for fourteen and half years and while your magic hid me away it could not stop them from blending completely. Even now, as different as we are, it is difficult to pinpoint the exact location of where I end and you begin." Harry watched as the humorous smirk Voldemort wore turn down into a contemplative frown. "Reading your mind is not the Ligilimency you suffered under Severus Snape."
Harry only nodded and went about washing the dishes he had used, using the time to sort through all he had learned. There was a Voldemort who was and was not Voldemort in his kitchen, talking to him and not shredding his mind to pieces. Did he plan on returning to the other Voldemort and would sanity prevail over the…merged Voldemort? What would a sane Voldemort even do?
As Harry dried the last pan and tucked it underneath the stove he couldn't help but wonder if he should write to Dumbledore. Sure the man had things from him and lied to him but Harry was hallucinating Voldemort the horcrux. A horcrux the old man had known about…Harry dismissed that idea altogether and wondered if there was anyone he could tell. Hermione would go straight to Dumbledore and…well so would everyone else.
If Voldemort was aware of Harry's thoughts he said nothing, something for which Harry was grateful for. He needed time to sort this out on his own.
"Was it truly my mother's love that saved me from your killing curse?" Harry asked as he spun around, not even aware that the question had been lurking somewhere in his mind. But now that it was out Harry felt a need to know stronger than anything else.
Voldemort looked to him and if he was surprised he didn't show it, instead he merely answered. "In a way suppose yes it was her love, but not in the way that was explained to." When Harry said nothing Voldemort continued, "Her love for you was the driving force behind her actions. You see Harry, like the rituals in the book you read, all rituals need a sacrifice, a payment if you will. When your mother gave her life for you, she created a profound and new ritual the world had never seen before. With you clasped in her arms she struck a deal which is essentially what all rituals are in the very barest of forms. She needed you to be spared and in return she gave her life. I highly doubt though, as clever as she was, that she knew she was doing what is called black magic."
Harry nodded and headed out of the kitchen, knowing Voldemort would follow. So it hadn't been love that saved him as Dumbledore had said, it had been fighting fire with fire. What would the world think if they knew the truth? Harry almost laughed.
"Now that you've eaten it is time for your potions," Voldemort's voice came from the doorway and Harry spun around in confusion.
"My potions?" Voldemort merely waived in the direction of Harry's closet and Harry went to inspect.
When he opened the doors he was shocked to find four different colored potions in varying numbers of bottles. On the left was a blue potion lined up in eight different vials in lines of two, in the middle were smaller vials of green potion that were lined up in five rows of eight, and then on the right were two different sized vials, a small purplish one that bubbled and fizzed and a normal sized vial of what looked like swamp water. All of them were on a nice table that Harry had never seen before. "What are these?" Harry asked in shock. "How did you get them?"
"The murky green on the right is a stabilizer. Now that most of your magic is not being diverted to keeping me out you have much more than you know how to use. This stabilizer will help protect your magical core while you acclimate. The purple fizzy one will hopefully correct your eyes if they are not too far gone. The eight blue potions are a healing regiment that you are currently on and after those eight are finished then you will be back to perfect health." Voldemort looked smug at Harry's gaping but that faded quickly when Harry asked about the smaller green vials.
In fact the Voldemort actually frowned and Harry got a bad feeling that he wouldn't like whatever was in those vials. "It will be a very long process but those are nutrient potions. I am going to try and correct some of the damage these muggles have done to you like your stunted height."
For a long moment Harry didn't say anything. If Voldemort was telling the truth and Harry was wary on accepting Voldemort's words at face value, but if he truly was telling the truth then that would mean he was…taking care of him, of Harry freaking Potter, the Boy-Who-Vanquished-Him, the reason he was stuck in another person for fifteen years. The reason the other Voldemort was bodiless for over a decade.
"Why?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking. None of those who were supposed to or promised to care for him had ever done anything like this. If Voldemort was lying…if he was planning on kicking Harry where it would hurt the most… Anger was bubbling just beneath the surface and getting ready to explode at a moment's notice.
Voldemort seemed to sense this and he gave Harry a knowing look before crossing the short distance. When the long and pale fingers traced Harry's cheek a shudder ran down his spine but he didn't move away. Harry was torn between being too scared to move away lest the gentle touch stop and too disgusted with himself to lean into Voldemort's hand like he desperately wanted to. "We could be great together Harry," Voldemort said in a voice hardly above a whisper and Harry's arms broke out in goose bumps.
"Right now my counterpart is bringing the world to its knees crumbling the illusion, it has only just begun but it will get worse." Voldemort's hand trailed down and brushed by Harry's neck leaving Harry in a confused stupor. "Imagine it Harry, the world in turmoil and chaos everywhere." Harry found it frightening how easily he could picture it. Diagon Alley abandoned and the people too scared to leave their homes, Death Eaters wreaking havoc. "And then, when the world has burned we can rise up from the ashes and form a new society. Together we can restore magic to its former glory."
Harry's heart was racing in his chest and dazed crimson eyes were watching him, prodding him to understand. Voldemort wanted him to join him? To help him restore magic, the very thing Harry had been trying to think of a way to do for a week. But could Harry do that? Could he betray those who counted on him to join his parent's murderer in tearing down and rebuilding the world to restore magic?
Yes, Harry thought with surprising ease, I can. The ignorant and prejudiced sheep would either stand aside and learn or be cut away. They had turned on him without hesitation so what did he owe them?Nothing. But magic had never left him or turned her back on him. Magic had healed his wounds when muggle's beat him, magic had saved him and Harry loved magic.
But there was one thing Harry didn't understand, "Why me?" He was not yet sixteen and barely passed his classes. He had no extraordinary gifts or power. He was just Harry, the boy who got by off dumb luck.
Voldemort gave an airy sigh and his hand moved back to Harry's cheek. The coolness of the hand felt so real Harry had to fight to remember that it wasn't actually there. "I have tasted your power little serpent," Harry shivered at the pet name and found himself liking it even though he knew he shouldn't. "You have great potential. While others have beaten it down and broken your ambition I can mend it. While my counterpart tears apart the world I can use that time to build you into a wizard to be feared. I will teach you magic you've never even dreamed of. Separate we can be great, but together we can be extraordinary. When the time is right we can reshape the world."
The picture Voldemort painted was extraordinary and Harry couldn't help but marvel at how the man had used his situation to come up with one of the greatest plans Harry had ever heard of. And the offer…the offer to join and not only help magic but also learn her most arcane subjects…Harry honestly didn't know why he was hesitating at all.
"Take your potions Harry," Voldemort broke Harry from his thoughts and removed his hand from Harry's cheek, "and think on my offer."
Harry turned away from Voldemort as he felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment when he realized he missed Voldemort's hand. He quickly grabbed the nutrient and healing potions and downed them while trying not to think of their awful flavor.
"You never told me," Harry said as a yawn broke free. "How did you get these?"
Voldemort watched amusedly as Harry sank on his bed and pulled a majority of the blanket over his torso. "I possessed your body and healed you with your magic as much as I could. Then I sent for the potions using your owl. She's extremely intelligent; she knew just when you needed her."
Hedwig hooted as if proving a point and Harry only grinned sleepily before falling into an induced healing sleep.