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Chapter 10
An animalistic snarl echoed in the dark room, lightened by the few scattered candles that shone dimly. Voldemort stared angrily at the glowing objects in front of him, there were only two in front of him, which seemed to make him even angrier.
The mercenary, Pallium Animus, told him that Potter was aware of his deepest secret, announcing it in front of all of his followers. Voldemort regretted not killing him on the spot, the cheek of the fool! If it wasn't enough that there was already an unrest in the ranks of his servants. The Dark Lord could occasionally catch the sparks of doubt in his followers' minds, and it drove him to the edge of paranoia.
The boy was a big problem, one that didn't want to end. Not only did he stop Voldemort's reign when he was merely a toddler, but he kept being a very irritating thorn at his side ever since. Most of his followers were reduced to pitiful quivering piles of flesh, but to have them doubt his power was simply maddening.
Now that his deepest secret was out in the open, Voldemort knew he was more prone to a stab in the back than ever. Fortunately to him, the Dark Lord had an advantage. He wasn't as vulnerable as it was believed. He smirked half-heartily while looking at the two heirlooms in front of him.
Voldemort slowly sat down on the conjured arm-chair, looking thoughtfully at the glittering cup and diadem; Hufflepuff's and Ravenclaw's most prized possessions. When he visited the cave and the filthy shack in search of his precious Horcruxes, The Dark Lord had almost lost control of his magic as his anger blew up spectacularly. He always felt as if the old Headmaster knew his secret; it was a bothersome itch in his mind that he was never able to get rid of. Yet, not in his wildest dreams, better yet his worst nightmares, did he expect him to actually find two of them and destroy them. Then, to make matters worse, even when the fool was dead, his pathetic fanboy took up the quest to destroy his soul-vessels.
Lucius, the arrogant fool, has already suffered his wrath when he reported the destruction of the diary. Nagini was safely tucked in this dark fortress.
Yet even with those reassurances, the Dark Lord still felt unrest in his black heart. How would immortality help him against betrayal? He was no fool, Voldemort realized that many of his followers were planning to overthrow him, to have all of this power for themselves. Magical England was officially under his control, the little expected rebellions changed nothing. Now, a tense atmosphere descended upon his ranks.
Violence has always been an unwavering factor in his life. Even now when he has reached his goal, violence always found new forms to take to haunt him.
It was driving him insane. Voldemort has learned to accept and even use brutality. It gave him an indescribable thrill, nothing else has ever came close to it.
Dumbledore was dead. Potter was dead. Any powerful light wizard or witch was eight feet under, what was he supposed to do? If he was a simple mortal, he would admit that he was restless. Yet, with all the power he had, Voldemort knew that satisfying his craving would take much more.
Power was always a satisfying prize to go after, but if no one stopped him from gaining that power, how could he be satisfied with it? Voldemort couldn't figure out where these foreign feelings were coming from. When he had Dumbledore as a worthy opponent, he happily destroyed the old wizard and crushed many spirits. When the Potter boy dared to challenge him, he hunted him down, and even if it wasn't him who killed him, he was sure that Potter saw the smirking face of Lord Voldemort as he drew his last pitiful breath.
Voldemort occupied his mind with the quest of finding the most powerful wand in the world, the Elder Wand. In a streak of luck, he sensed its power when he retrieved his Horcrux. Prying it out of the cold fingers of the dead 'Greatest wizard of his age' was satisfying, he chuckled darkly.
The solution was simple and quite obvious; perhaps England has fell before his might, but many other countries remained standing proudly in front of him. It was up for him to choose the ripest one and pluck it with ease.
His cruel smirk turned into a cold frown as he felt a presence behind him. Voldemort turned around, his iris' expanding in anger and-
Harry gasped desperately as he finally tore himself out of the Dark Lord's mind, just in time.
Did he see him? Did Voldemort see that the so called pathetic Potter boy was still alive and kicking? Harry desperately hoped not, losing his only advantage at the moment would be disastrous.
He took a moment to reflect what he just witnessed. A snort of disbelief escaped him, Voldemort was bored? It was ridiculous to even imagine, Harry had to bat aside the image of the evil Dark Lord finding a hobby.
And his plans... Voldemort was going to invade other countries. Harry didn't know if he should feel relieved or horrified. It did mean that the Dark Lord wouldn't be in England, giving them more space for planning, but what about the innocent people? With a sigh his shoulders slumped, the teen knew he couldn't stop him, yet. All he could do at the moment was to raise an army as quickly as possible to be able to fight Voldemort head-on.
"Harry!" The teen looked startled at Remus and Kingsley who were looking at him respectively with worry and panic in their eyes. Harry felt guilty. The two wizards were not aware of his connection to Voldemort, and seeing him having a seizure probably wasn't a very pleasant site.
He sighed.
"Voldemort somehow found out I was hunting for the Horcruxes, he has them now. He's planning to attack a foreign country soon, he's bloody bored." His voice sounded tired yet emotionless at the same time, it was almost as if he didn't care anymore.
The two wizards exchanged a worried and confused look.
"Harry, what just happened? How do you know all of that?" Remus asked hesitantly.
The young wizard closed his eyes in resignation, recounting all the details about his mental connection to the Dark Lord, exhaustion clear in his voice. The ex-professor and auror looked at him with shock, even after everything he told them today, this was the most unexpected thing.
Kingsley jumped to his feet, pacing in front of them, anger clear in his eyes.
"This is unacceptable! How can we launch our plan into action with that? No spy could even come close to the deadly effects this can have. We can't start building an army until you learn-"
"Occlumency, yes I know. I was forced to learn it from Snape, all he did was rape and rip my mind from the inside." Harry retorted, his frustration showing through his mask of indifference.
"I don't care! You need to learn it either way!" Kingsley said sharply before turning to the door.
"I'll go and contact my friends, so we will start getting things done." Kingsley told them, without turning around.
"Harry, they are going to need someone to look up to, as a leader. It is going to be you, the Chosen One." Before the teen could protest, the auror pressed on.
"You know it's going to be like that. They need a hero, Harry. Only you can provide that icon." Kingsley finally made eye contact with the young wizard, his eyes shining in an unreadable light.
"They need a hero. You need to be ready." The auror abruptly parted without a goodbye, leaving the two men stunned.
Harry stood up, his movements jerky from suppressed anger, his fist clenched to the point of whiteness. How dare he say these things! Harry never wanted to be a hero, he was just a boy fighting for his life, not some emotionless super soldier. He should've known it was a bad idea to involve them, first his friends, now this!
The teen tensed up when he felt Remus' hand on his shoulder, turning his angry emerald green eyes and meeting the warm yet determined amber eyes of his former professor.
"You know he means well, Harry. That's exactly what you should expect to face. I'm not saying it's fair or even relatively smart, but you know that it's going to be like that." The werewolf told him firmly, but with gentleness. A flash of anger passed through the teen's eyes, but a moment later he sighed tiredly and nodded.
Remus led him to an arm-chair and sat across him. Both of them set in silence for a few long moments, Harry staring blankly at the dull grey wall while Remus waited patiently.
"But... Why me? Why does it have to be always me?" The young wizard finally spoke, turning his eyes towards Remus, desperation clear in his voice.
Remus regarded him for a while, his lips set in a thin line.
"The public always needs a poster boy." The ex-professor started.
"They always need someone they can praise or blame, someone that will appear to be greater than life, so they won't feel guilty when they drop everything on that person. After what happened with Lily and James, you've become a target for all of this." Remus spoke with combined anger and sadness, and Harry felt absolutely helpless.
"I... I just don't know if I'll be able to handle this. Not after Hermione and Ron." Harry spoke quietly, pain evident on his face.
"Harry, look at me." Remus demanded. When he saw that the teen complied he continued.
"A wise man once told me that people will always come and go in and out of your life, but those who deserve to be in it, will always find a way back. I know it's hard to see your friendship of seven years just crumble apart, but think of it this way, if it was meant to be, it'll find a way." Remus spoke slowly yet with complete certainty, and Harry got the impression he was speaking from past experience. As much as he hated to admit it, the teen knew that Remus' words made sense. The three friends had many fights before and they always ended up back together, it would be the easy way to keep worrying about it and let it affect him. The right thing, however, was to concentrate on getting alive out of this, to be able to see them another day.
"I think that I need some time to simply think about it." Harry said hesitantly, but Remus nodded in encouragement.
"Don't let it eat you from the inside Harry, if you'll need me, I'll be in the next room, getting ready for Dora killing me."
Harry smiled at the older man, it felt strained but he knew it was a matter of thought and time. He comfortably set himself in the arm-chair, turning himself towards the fireplace and lightning it. He was content to just stare at the dancing fire and get lost in his thoughts.
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