Hello again lovelies! Wow, I had not imagined that I would get so many reactions on the last chapter, thank you very, very much!
This week's chapter comes a bit earlier because I suddenly realised that it's Harry Potter's birthday today! So happy birthday to our favourite hero :P

This chapter has been made possible by my lovely bètas again ^.^
Enjoy

Chapter seven - Perspectives

Harry waited on the couch, a bundle of nerves. Two more days had passed, which he'd mainly spent doing chores and talking to Barty about all sorts of things, from details about the war to Voldemort himself.

''He's a difficult man'' Barty had warned Harry. ''I'm sure you at least saw some of that already. He is exceptional in every way, meaning that he also gets bored very easily when in the company of us ordinary humans. He's not very nice either. He likes being cruel at times, relishing in defeating his enemies and, for lack of that, punishing followers who failed him or others if none are left whom he can think up a reason for. Still, when you need someone to cover your back or save you, the Dark Lord is always there for those sticking by him. He's a fantastic teacher too... he tried to apply twice to teach at Hogwarts, did you know that? Dumbledore stopped it, thinking he would be a bad influence. Absolute shame for the students. Being a Dark Lord fits him more though, I think.'' After that, the man had continued his worshipping rant for a while still, as he so often did.

''Evan,'' Voldemort started. He sat on a rotatable chair now instead of the sofa, giving a more regal appearance despite his size.

''We both know who I am, you might as well use my real name when Barty isn't here.''

''Evan suits you, you do have more of your mother in you than your father.''

''Don't you dare talk about my parents,'' Harry hissed. ''Or I will leave even if it means passing out from you choking me.''

''As you wish. Still, Evan is also rather fitting... now we both carry the name of our Muggle lineage.'' If Voldemort would have thought that that would shock Harry, he was wrong. Even before Barty had told him about it, he'd known a long time already that Voldemort came from Muggles.

''Firstly, you discarded that name. Secondly, you just want to use me for experiments, don't you?'' Harry coolly said. ''I don't see a reason for why you should try to talk all amicably to me unless you're hoping on me getting Stockholm Syndrome.''

Voldemort raised one hairless eyebrow. Harry couldn't decide whether it looked threatening or comical. ''To my knowledge, I would have had to kidnap you for that. Considering the fact that you broke in here to try and kill me, it hardly counts that I am keeping you here after. We shall leave the chat for later then. Look into my eyes.''

Reluctantly, Harry slowly looked into the burning, bright red irises, not knowing what to expect. He barely saw Voldemort's eyes glaze over before an onslaught of memories hit him. He couldn't fight it, lost in a stream of passing flashes. He saw Ron and Hermione, Sirius, the Dursleys, all people who held any importance to him. He then saw all the trials he'd had to pass until now: freeing Buckbeak, getting past Devil's snare, carrying Norbert up to the Astronomy tower, fighting the Basilisk-'' the memory screeched to a halt at that and Harry was sucked into a vision of the Chamber of Secrets, looking around in confusion. What was happening? What had Voldemort done? A furious scream tore through his head at the same moment his memory destroyed the diary to save Ginny. Harry was forcefully pushed out of his own head again and was met with Voldemort's eyes only inches from his face, wild with madness.

''The diary, you destroyed,'' he shrieked, the lipless mouth trembling in fury. ''How dare you, how could you... Out! Get out of here before I rip your head off your shoulders!''

Hyperventilating, Harry bolted for the door, slamming it close behind him and kneeling down on the floor, feeling sick. It was as if the whirlwind of memories had also turned his stomach upside down. He dry heaved for a while, thankfully nothing actually coming out. Barty found him like that nearly half an hour later, still sitting on all fours, not wanting to move so the world wouldn't start spinning again. A few spells later, Harry was feeling much better, having been able to move downstairs to his blanket fort.

''That must have been intense,'' Barty remarked. ''Can I ask...'' he hesitated.

''I haven't got a clue what happened,'' Harry said, clutching his stomach still. ''I had to look into his eyes and then I was suddenly in my head and there were so many memories...'' even thinking of it made his mind warp again. ''He saw something he didn't like and threw me out of the room with the threat of murdering me if I stayed. Not the best first experiment, not looking forward to any others.''

''Bartemius,'' Voldemort's voice boomed through the house. Dropping everything he'd been doing without a second thought, Barty rushed away.

Harry always found it odd that Voldemort called Barty by his full first name, especially since he didn't do so when talking about Barty to others, be it to Harry or Nagini. Harry didn't know how much time passed as he lay there, trying to get his head to work right again. When Barty finally came back down, it was considerably darker. Harry hadn't even noticed he'd fallen asleep at one point.

''Evan, I need to leave for a while. Might take a couple of days, maybe longer. You're not supposed to go anywhere without Nagini, and have to stay in our Lord's room as much as possible.'' At Harry's miserable look, he added: ''Don't you worry, whatever he was angry about before, he isn't anymore. I told you: the more intense his mood is, the faster he tries to get it under his absolute control.'' Then, he was gone, just like that, not even taking provisions with him. Harry sighed: where he'd once thought Barty would become an inconvenience to his plans, the enthusiastic man had turned out to be his cure for both Voldemort and loneliness. It would be a few difficult days... Following Barty's orders when he felt the strain on his neck starting to tighten ever so slightly in a subtle hint, he dragged his feet up the stairs, not feeling like facing his captor again.

For once, Voldemort wasn't staring at him, engrossed in a book that floated in front of his chair, his anger all having faded. Vaguely, he gestured for Harry to sit down. Shifting uncomfortably, the teen wasn't entirely certain what to do with himself. Before, whenever he'd been alone with Voldemort, the man had always been delirious, so Harry had spent most of his time trying to watch over him. After the Dark Lord had come to his senses, Harry had avoided him as much as possible in favour of spending time with Barty, who made for much better company despite the devotion to his master. So now, he was just fidgeting, wondering how to spend his time here, knowing that he might have to stay in this room for hours on end. Considering that he was a prisoner here, he also doubted that Voldemort was going to entertain him if he'd ask for conversation, not after denying the one the man had started before.

In the end, Harry just decided to lie down on the sofa, hoping that he could pass most of the time here by sleeping.

It had not been one of his most brilliant ideas again, Harry decided, when his dreams were plagued by memories of the past days, the pain he'd suffered from the Cruciatus curse, and an image of Voldemort standing over the corpses of his friends. Harry felt rather detached from the dreams, a small blessing, as he watched them like seeing a movie rather than participating. Crackling voices sounded all around, a more annoying version of static noise. Great, and he couldn't even make himself wake up again. The teen blinked in surprise when the images shifted and he was looking down on his own sleeping form. Was he completely having an out-of-body experience now? Then his eyes caught something white moving, a hand stretching out, reaching out for the sleeping Harry's face, a bony finger brushing the fringe aside-

Harry screamed and sat up, knocking Voldemort's hand away as a searing pain went through his skull. ''What the hell!'' he shouted, giving the other an accusing look.

''Interesting effect,'' Voldemort muttered, taking a quill and scribbling something down on the sheet of parchment in his hand. ''So it is true that my touching your scar hurts you even when I do not feel any particularly strong emotions. And...'' he pensively looked down at his own fingers. ''Burns me as well. We'll certainly have to do something about that before we can continue with any advanced experiments.'' Completely confused and weirded out, Harry curled up into a ball and shoved himself against the far end of the couch, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

''What are you even doing?'' he asked, brain in a state of panic again, which happened far too often with Voldemort around.

''Experimenting. You yourself told me that you wish for me to stop the 'useless talk', did you not? No reason for me to explain any processes then.'' Unexpectedly, the man's tone was rather surly and made Harry feel like a small child who was being chastised but tolerated over a bad decision.

''Might have been... too hasty with that,'' he admitted. ''I'd rather know what you want from me before you suddenly harass me in my sleep.''

''Terrific.'' Voldemort spoke, satisfaction prominent. ''This will all work out much smoother when there are no constant fearful silences. Barty isn't here to lift your mood now after all.''

''Where did he go?'' Harry asked, curious.

''He's been sent out to... procure a number of objects, that is all you'll have to know for now. So, let's continue. Evan, you are aware of the fact that we have a mental link, yes?'

Harry blinked owlishly. ''You mean the visions and such? I wasn't sure if that came from a mental connection or if they were just imagined visions resulting from trauma.''

The other released a suffering sigh. ''You're not exactly the most observant person in the world, are you? We are both affected by each other's emotions, can feel them to an extent and during moments of weakness even connect our minds. All of this is tied to your scar...''

''Professor Dumbledore told me it is a curse mark, wouldn't budge when I asked further than that.''

''No, I wouldn't imagine the old fool to be loose-lipped even to those involved.''

At the insult, Harry puffed up and opened his mouth in an angry retort. He didn't get further than ''Professor Dumbledore is-'' before Voldemort cut him off.

''Yes yes, I know very well how he presents himself as the ultimate icon of everything good in the world. Spare me, I've known him for decades. Decades too long in my opinion.''

''Why do you hate Dumbledore so much? Is it only because he didn't trust you at school?'' Harry asked, trying to hit a nerve. ''He was right in the end, you killed a girl when you were only sixteen after all. Can't fault him for that.''

A brief troubled look crossed the other's face. ''When looking at the results only, I can understand why you would reach that conclusion... And yet, that was five entire years after I first met him and asked for help. Help he wouldn't give me for the sole reason that I descended from Slytherin. Did he tell you anything about my past, Evan? I can imagine that he would at least have revealed that much to aid you in fighting me, am I correct?''

Now it was Harry's turn to feel nervous. ''Not... not really. I mean, I know bits about your past because of... what you saw in my mind,'' he muttered. ''That you opened the Chamber to get rid of Muggleborns and got Hagrid expelled.'' He glared at the other. ''Whom had nothing to do with it and should have stayed there.''

''Oh yes, great idea, let him keep his monster spider in a closet,'' Voldemort bit back. ''Certainly wouldn't harm anyone either. At least I kept the Basilisk safely locked in the Chamber, controlling when and where exactly she could travel. That I myself should have been expelled does not mean that Hagrid should have walked free. He broke over a dozen school rules and put everyone in danger by insisting that his fluffy Acromantula was harmless. Years later and now we have an invasion in the Forbidden Forest.''

''You just wanted him gone because he is different!'' Harry yelled. ''I cannot say much about your dislike for Dumbledore because I do not know enough about the Headmaster, but Hagrid has his heart on the right place! He is friendly, selfless and always willing to help!''

The other groaned and rubbed his face, suddenly looking incredibly tired. ''I did not and do not hate Hagrid. He was honestly dangerous, having access to magic. I know that he was Dumbledore's pet project of sorts, but having a half-Giant in the school is just as disastrous as having a werewolf, which, to my knowledge, Dumbledore also tried and failed to safely do twice.''

''Half-Giant?'' Harry asked, flabbergasted. ''Giants exist too?''

The man's eyes twitched as he spoke: ''By Merlin, boy, what have you been learning for the past three years? Of course Giants exist. Not a whole lot anymore and not in Britain due to this government's racism, admittedly. One more thing I will try to right as much as possible. Yes, Hagrid is one of the few half-Giants in the world -please do not ask me how that physically works, I'd rather not think of it myself- and giving him a wand was an absolutely stupid thing to do. Do you know why?'' Silently, Harry shook his head, not wanting to believe that Hagrid could be dangerous in any way.

''Because,'' Voldemort hissed, painstakingly slowly. ''Spells depend on complex wand movements, pronunciation and will. Giants lack any type of fine motor skills and can barely speak. As you may have noticed if spending any time with that man, his genes make it literally impossible for him to be graceful and properly learn to speak or spell. Human language is five times more difficult to learn for him because Giants have very different vocal chords. When at school, even within those three years he was there, students constantly were afraid to pair up with him because his spells would have disastrous results more often than not due to a tongue-twist or jerky movement.''

''But I've seen him do magic,'' Harry protested. ''He uses it to better grow his pumpkins, light fires, he sped up a boat once and even gave my cousin a pigtail!''

At that, Voldemort suddenly burst out into amused chuckles. ''A pigtail, really? Quite deserved from what Barty told me. Human transfiguration is incredibly difficult and very illegal however. I somehow doubt that his spell worked correctly. Also, I'm quite surprised to hear that he's still got his wand, it should have been broken when he was expelled.''

Harry shuffled uncomfortably and ignored Voldemort's last sentence. ''He was trying to turn him into a full pig. Still, most of his other spells work fine.''

''Apart from the transfiguration, all spells you describe are rather simple, first- or second-year spells that do not require specific wand movements beyond pointing at an object. Those were the only ones he ever got down. Should he have attempted OWL or NEWT level spells, it just... wouldn't have worked out. Dumbledore never saw it fit to tell him that of course, giving Hagrid special treatment just to push him through the years. So many teachers complained about it too, since his theoretical exams were never even legible. I still never figured out if Dumbledore did it to be kind or cruel. He must have known that Hagrid would never have been able to even pass his OWL's. I was too young myself to find out Dumbledore's objectives that far back however, so I can only make guesses.'' Not liking the way the conversation had gone, Harry looked away, wondering what to say that wouldn't make himself start to believe that anything Voldemort said sounded logical. The other seemed to notice, watching with hawk-like eyes before saying: ''You have questions?''

''I really don't know what to think of all of this. The entire situation is so confusing.''

''How?''

Harry gave the other a disbelieving look. ''The first thing I learned when entering the Wizarding world was that you are responsible for the deaths and pain of hundreds of people, including my parents and myself. I prevented you from getting the philosopher stone, prevented you from going on another killing spree in Hogwarts, and now went here to try and finish what I apparently started as a baby, because it is expected of me that I am the 'Chosen One' or whatever the Daily Prophet comes up with next. And now, I am sitting in a room with you, listening to you lamenting about how unfair Dumbledore is to people, hear Barty speaking of how your noble goals only turned into a fucking scary dictatorship because it was 'out of control' and people became misguided? It doesn't make any common sense!''

''Not to the ears of a child who has been raised to see in black and white, no,'' Voldemort sighed. ''Evan, you have to understand, to the depth of your core, that no single person in the world sees themselves as evil no matter how others perceive them. The worst criminals in existence have a reason for what they do, no matter how little anyone else can understand their justifications. I've done and enjoyed doing many things others think of as immoral and terrible, I know that. For me, much of the moral dilemma falls away because I know what I am doing it for. People en masse are stupid and do not know what is good for them. I do, and I will make damned certain that magicians and magical creatures will never have to give way to the whims of beings lower than them, than us. I fight for the survival of our kind with a long-term plan in mind. Making concessions won't do us much good when Muggles decide to fire nuclear weapons on our Isles. We'll have to be strong, united, know who we are and where we came from. It is unthinkable to let things go on as is for much longer, we'll be trampled. If that means that I will have to, for a while, repress the freedom of those who cannot see the dangers, I'll gladly do so. Our country, no, magicians all over this world, will need me.''

''You sound so sure of yourself,'' Harry only said dully. ''I've heard this story too often in the history books, mostly in Muggle ones ironically. What keeps you from making the same mistakes as all those other tyrants who in the end fell by the hands of their people, or of their rivals who promised freedom and peace instead of oppression? What makes you better than those who cling to their power once they are on top and keep repressing their own people decades after they've won?''

''The fact that, beyond my vision of the safety of my people, I already have what I want personally. I found eternal life and have no magical match anywhere in this country, not even Dumbledore will be able to defeat me in an honest duel. Also, I have the experience now of how not to go at things. I did make many mistakes the first time around, tried to take on too much myself to ensure it was done perfectly, micromanaging everything, not seeing that the system I built up was crumbling around me because of it. I will not let that happen once again. I trust that Barty told you more?''

''Parts,'' Harry replied. ''Look, I'm not exactly the best person to spout your ideals to considering both our past and the fact that you are keeping me prisoner as a guinea pig.''

''On the contrary, you, as someone who was raised at two points in time with entirely different beliefs and morals than I experienced, can give me fresh insights in many of plans.''

''You want me to... advice you?'' Harry spluttered.

''For starters.''

He stood up now, towering over Voldemort as if that would help a bit against a man who could press him down on the floor with a flick of his fingers. ''I'll never help you achieve anything!''

''Really? Not even to make things better?''

Speechless, Harry just stood there, struggling with himself. He didn't wish to reveal anything of himself, just wanted to get out of here and never think of the infuriating creature ever again. The thought of being able to make even a minimal change for the better was tempting him though, being dangled right in front of his face by the other. ''So what, you think that I of all people can make you have a change of heart?''

''Awfully bold of you to assume I have a heart.''

''What?'' Harry gave the other a horrified look, staring at the man's chest. Voldemort gave a suffering sigh again. He seemed to do that often and Harry wondered if it was his fault or if Voldemort did that with everyone. He hoped for the latter to not find yet another reason to blame himself for doing something wrong.

''Lighten up, of course I have a heart, it was... never mind. Interaction has not passed that stage then I suppose.'' Without saying anything further, he rather forcefully scratched another few notes on the parchment.

''Has anyone ever told you that you sound rather dysfunctional, socially-wise?'' Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

Voldemort met his gaze with a challenging stare. ''If anyone ever did, they're dead now. Consider it a confirmation, but also realise that you are damn lucky that I refuse to take those words seriously from a thirteen-year old virgin with family issues and depression. Where were we? Yes, Questions.'' Harry gulped as the piercing glare continued as Voldemort peeked over the parchment.

''Do you... plan on staying like that forever?'' he asked, cursing as it came out more rudely than intended. ''I mean, not being able to move about yourself sounds very uncomfortable.''

''Worried about my comfort, Evan?''

Harry refused to acknowledge the amused tone and replied with a muttered: ''No particularly, it will be nice to not have to take care of you anymore is all.''

''I do not particularly enjoy it either. It's nothing I can change at the moment, it might take a couple of weeks at best before I can create a true body for myself. It would have taken much longer, but then you so conveniently stumbled into my house. My gratitude, now I can drop my elaborate plot to kidnap you.''

''Wait, what do I have to do with it?'' Harry asked, rather disturbed.

''You caused my death, you will have to be present for my revival, simple magical principles Evan. However would it work otherwise?'' Harry sulked as the other once more had that infuriating belittling tone.

''So you cannot fully revive if I am not there?'' he asked, a plan starting to form in his mind. It was a stupid thing to do, of course, yet perhaps his only chance to fix this situation. He'd actually wanted to use the knife he'd taken out of the kitchen cabinet for another attempt on Voldemort's life... the probability of that succeeding would be significantly lower than what he had in mind now, so it wasn't such a bad idea, hopefully. His last thoughts went out to the friends he hoped he would protect with this as he pulled the knife out of his pocket and stabbed himself in the chest.

Or tried to.

He cried out as the knife swerved away just as the tip of it punctured his skin, leaving a long but shallow gash across his chest. His focus became blurry again from the pain and Harry doubled over at the same moment the knife clattered uselessly on the floor on the other side of the room.

''You are absolutely insane!'' he heard, not able to place Voldemort's tone correctly within the range of astonishment and anger, not caring enough to try either. Blood was welling up and spilling over his ruined robes. The worst part was that he knew already that it wouldn't kill him. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes as he realised that he had, yet again, failed. ''Stupefy,'' was the last thing he heard before blacking out.

So, finally Voldemort comes a bit more into the picture! And for all of you who love Barty, he will be back soon, no worries ;)
Read and Review please!