Narcissa stirred his thoughts.
"My Lord, is there anything else you require?" She paused, uncertainty in her voice.
"Yes," He began to pace—an awful habit he would not have revealed if not for the stress of the situation. "I am summoning an inner circle meeting."
"Shall I proceed with anything else?"
"Begin drafting a full healing regimen. Nothing is off limits." Voldemort fought the urge to command her to start imminently, but he knew better than to rush a healer.
"Of course, my Lord." Narcissa waved her wand and began to write on fresh parchment while consulting the other.
Within minutes, all the members of his inner circle stood in the meeting hall of his manor. He didn't use it often; the Malfoy manor was preferred, but this cemented the seriousness of the situation.
Severus Snape, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange, Barty Crouch Jr, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Carban Yaxley, and Tiberius Nott all stood before him. The eleven members of his inner circle.
"Everyone is here, my Lord." Barty, his apprentice, said.
Voldemort focused on his body language. Proud, menacing, and powerful.
"I have acquired Harry Potter."
A few gasped, while others like Bellatrix laughed with glee.
"However," Voldemort paused, waiting for them to calm down. "I have discovered a fact that prevents me from killing him."
"What is it, my Lord?" Bellatrix's voice was begging. Any scrap of attention, good or bad, from him was all she desired.
"The night I attacked the Potters," Voldemort didn't like mentioning that, "The killing curse rebounded onto me. In that moment, a shard of my soul broke off. And that piece of soul attached itself to Harry Potter's soul."
"While he lives, I have another step in preserving my immortality," Voldemort laughed evilly. "Should he die, I will forever lose that piece of my soul."
"Is there a way to remove it, my Lord?" Corban asked. Voldemort threw a crucio at him for a few seconds.
"If there was a way," Voldemort growled, "I would have done it already. This means that any harm done to him may damage my soul."
Bellatrix screamed in anger, "What is it we can do, my Lord?"
"There is no solution. Harm will not befall him. I am keeping him until I form a better plan. Severus, have you been informed about this by Dumbledore?"
All eyes turned to the potion's master.
Severus swallowed, "I was unaware of this situation."
"We will operate under the idea that Dumbledore knows. Why else would he send the child of prophecy into deadly situations? He desired that I destroy my own soul." The pieces were slowly connecting for him.
Voldemort struggled to keep his composure. "You all will take another oath to not reveal this to anyone. You will tell the other Death Eaters under your control that Harry Potter is not to be harmed by my orders. No questions asked."
They all agreed quickly.
A week later, Voldemort found himself in a bad position.
He wanted to tell Potter.
There wasn't a why to the reason. There was just an overwhelming urge to say it.
A part of him clawed at his reasoning. It screamed at him to tell him, to keep no secrets from the boy. That it would be better to tell him now. That it was the only option.
Voldemort had to agree. Potter would find out. That would break what little trust Potter has in him. He'd shut him out and start making his own decisions. He may even run back to Dumbledore and spill all his secrets.
But now, he didn't feel like he would do that if he told him. That would establish a clear relationship between them. Potter was his horcrux, and thus he had no reason to fear him because Voldemort would be protecting him.
He could just use it as an excuse to train him.
Potter, despite his lack of experience and lesser power, had brilliant duelling instincts. He held out for longer than Voldemort thought possible against him in the graveyard.
What would happen if he sharpened those raw skills?
He would need to be a great dueler if he was to protect the soul shard. Voldemort does not die as long as he lives. Protecting him was of the utmost priority, along with the other horcruxes.
Two were already destroyed.
Mathematically, there should be exactly as much Voldemort in Potter as there was Voldemort in Voldemort. There should be something in Potter that would make him want to be more like him.
He could have another apprentice.
Potter might agree. As long as he trusted him not to murder him, Potter would agree. As much as he didn't make the smartest of decisions, he always made the right ones. Potter's intentions had changed, and Voldemort knew that. He didn't want to be a saviour any longer. But was not being a saviour enough?
Changing him more, would that be so hard?
Voldemort had already earned some of his trust. The boy had jumped out of the window and run away with him without so much as a second glance. The lack of murderous intent from anyone affiliated with him would also serve him well.
Potter would never be a true apprentice.
No, his will was too strong for that. But as long as his soul was protected, Potter could hate him all he wanted.
Yes, it was decided.
He would train him.
Time was an enigma. It flowed without reason; seconds could feel like hours while years could pass in the blink of an eye.
He was standing over a cowering elderly woman. She pleaded with him, begging him to stop. He raised his bone-white wand and struck her in the chest with a red beam. She struggled, a strangled scream echoing from her throat.
Another spell hit her, and she lay still.
A snake, huge with yellow eyes, rose up before him. It tilted his head and flicked out its tongue. He offered a hand. The creature licked him.
"Blood of Slytherin." It hissed.
"Creature of Greatness." He replied in parseltongue.
"You seek my loyalty." It slithered around him, cutting off any exit he could have had.
"I seek your compliance." He said this while tracking its head with his eyes.
It hissed again and butted its nose against Tom. Tom fell to the floor, and the creature rested its head on his body. Its breath stank, and his air was knocked out of him. The creature licked him again, this time in the face.
"Whom shall I destroy?" It asked with some mischief in its voice.
His tiny hands flew over his face. But it didn't stop the water from being dumped over his head. It was murky, and splatters of mud dirtied his clothes. The older kids jeered, laughing at him as he tried desperately to get it off his cream-white shirt.
He fought back tears as a mean-looking older woman screamed at him for getting dirty. She spanked him and sent him up to a decrypted room. Slowly and carefully, he scraped off the dried mud, then dabbed a little bit of water on it from a can he had stashed in his closet. The stains were still visible, but they were much lighter.
Harry didn't know how long he had been asleep for, but he knew one thing for sure:
He felt amazing, but he was damn hungry.
Awaking in the bed he fell asleep in, surprise graced his features as he saw Narcissa Malfoy bandaging his midsection. They locked eyes, and she gently sat down the roll of gauze.
"Pipskey," The house elf appeared, "please inform My Lord that Potter is awake."
Why would he want to be there?
Unease ate at his mind.
"I will finish wrapping your midsection. I assume I will be outside of the room while the Dark Lord talks to you."
Harry hummed. He allowed her to continue treating him with foul-smelling salves and concealing his wounds under thick bandages. It was almost nice to be cared for like that, but it was a Malfoy who was treating him.
He noted the lack of a dark mark on her forearm.
Snake-faced Voldemort strode into the room not too long after. Even under glamour, Harry could feel the tension brewing under his skin. This furthered his unease.
"Narcissa, you are dismissed. Await my summons; it will not take long." Voldemort nodded toward the door.
She gracefully left, placing the gauze and salves on a silver platter on a rolling cart. He notices a lot of bloody cotton balls and sponges as well.
"Did she cut me open?" Harry was dead serious.
"Yes. She extracted some blood that was most contaminated with basilisk venom for further research." Voldemort's glamours dropped as he sat at the end of the bed.
Uh oh.
Harry was well aware of that look. The look of an adult about to give devastating news. The tension in their shoulders, their unwillingness to meet their eyes, and their heavy brows. Always with the furrowed brow.
"When Narcissa performed the scan on you," Starting with a story was never good. "I noticed a certain mark under your ailments. Dark Magic Mark."
"I don't have the dark mark." Harry rolled his eyes.
"Listen. I know that. But it wasn't just physical; no, it listed it as a soul ailment as well. There was a bit of blackness in your otherwise grey core when we did a visual soul spell on you."
"Wait —you can see a soul—"
"Silence." Voldemort pinched the bridge of his nose. "Harry," Oh no, not the first name.
"You know what a horcrux is."
Harry felt his blood turn to ice. He couldn't—no— he wasn't a Horcux. It wouldn't be a Horcux. No, it had to be something else. Something else made him a parseltongue. Something else had to be the reason he could see through Voldemort's eyes. Something— anything.
But it would all make sense, wouldn't it?
"I'm - " Harry's throat closed up. He couldn't say it.
"You are." Voldemort sighed. "And as such, I must train you to protect my horcrux."
"What!" Harry exclaimed. He tried to jump up, but he found his limbs were limp and useless.
Voldemort looked him in the eyes. Dead in the eyes, the deep maroon locking with emerald green. "You possess a piece of my soul. I have protections on my other Horcuxes, and as you are a living being, you need to be able to defend yourself."
"No - I "
He couldn't deny the fact. He was a horcrux. He possessed a piece of Voldemort's soul within him.
While he lives, Voldemort can't die.
"But —But the prophecy." It was done for. His fate had been sealed.
"What about the prophecy?" Voldemort's mood turned in an instant. Gone was the tension, and it was replaced with hunger.
"I - " There was no use in hiding it.
"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.
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."
Voldemort froze. He was caught in a state, panic bubbling to the surface of his eyes. He shook his head, not succeeding in regaining his mask.
Harry swallowed, hard. Was this a wise decision? Or would Voldemort kill him now, making the prophecy complete, and just lose the small fraction of his soul? Dammit, doing without thinking again.
"The prophecy is null as long as you contain my horcrux, which there is no way to remove. You cannot kill me. I will not kill you. It will be forever incomplete." Voldemort enunciated slowly.
Tears bubbled up to the surface of Harry's eyes. He tried to wipe them away, but his limbs were still useless.
He was a horcrux.
"This can't be—"
"The more you deny it, the harder the realisation will be. You are, and you will always be, my horcrux. You can either accept it now and train with me, or you will never see the light of day again."
"I do not need to be nice here. I would have no qualms with it, but I am giving you the chance to have some freedom."
Voldemort was right.
He couldn't escape, even if he wanted to. For Godric's sake, he was bed-bound! How was he supposed to leave? He'd be weighed down with this for the rest of his life.
"Okay." Harry breathed. "I'll do it."
The words were bitter on his lips.
"Good." Voldemort averted his gaze. "We will begin when you are cleared to. I will start to train you, but I expect you to duel at least one Death Eater before the summer's end."
"Why the summer's end?" He asked. Would he be let go?
"I do not want to interfere with your education," Harry snorted, "—anymore." You will not do well in life if you are not educated. I will retrieve you once your year is over."
"And once I'm out of Hogwarts?"
"We will talk. Depending on how the war is going, I would most likely conseal you." He'd be imprisoned until the damned thing was over.
"If you win?"
"When I win, I will employ you in a stimulating and low-threat level of work." Voldemort scoffed at the notion of losing.
"The Defence Against the Dark Arts position is mine." Harry demanded.
"Deal, I cannot handle schoolchildren." Voldemort waved him off.
"Didn't you apply to be the Defense professor?" Sure, he had alternative motives, but were they just bad? After all, he was offering to train him.
"That—was a long time ago. I will remove the curse once you acquire the position."
Harry smiled.
"Now, I will let Narcissa continue your healing journey. Would you like to be conscious for that?" Voldemort held up another vial.
"Give me some food before, but no."
—
The days passed with boredom. The only entertainment was the book Harry had found. Voldemort had been a bit short with him after he asked him to retrieve it, but the satisfaction of making him get it was enough to cover him.
There were so many ways to use "normal" spells in violent matters. A scroungify, for example, could remove an entire layer of skin. You could detach a limb if a windardium levosa was strong enough.
Voldemort seemed pleased with the development. He'd visit occasionally and talk. Just talking.
"Then BAM, Hermione punches him in the face." Harry laughed.
"I would not take that disrespect either. She is ranked higher than him, no?" Voldemort signed the bottom of some documents.
"Yep. Brightest witch of our age. Dumbledore gave her a time-turner in our third year to take more classes." That seemed to draw Voldemort's attention.
"A time-turner? To a child?" He blinked, glancing up from his stack of papers.
"Yep." Harry didn't want to mention Sirius. "She's nuts. I hope she's doing well."
He could distract himself all he wanted, but he still longed for his friends. But they'd never agree to be there. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to be there either, but he didn't have much of a choice.
"If she is as close of a friend as you say, she will likely be fretting over you." Voldemort rolled his eyes. The man was under the impression that Hermione was madly in love with him.
"Hush." Harry waved a hand, "The Order is probably losing their minds right now. Serves them right, leaving me there."
"There wasn't much of a watch team either. They were easily avoidable." Voldemort tilted his head to the side, then shook it. "How much do you know about occlumency?"
"Not much." Harry admitted, "Bunch of purebloods talk about it."
"Because it is often taught to children. I will teach you. If you are not successful with me, I will hand you over to Narcissa. I have been told you do not get along with Severus." He got up from his chair and snapped his fingers, and the papers vanished.
"Yeah, I'd punch him if I could." Harry didn't hide his disdain for the man. "But he's just too quick. Draco's a lot slower, so I settle for him."
Voldemort hummed. Another snap of his fingers, and a thick red book appeared in his hands.
"Read this, it should give you insight to occlumency. I have a meeting, so do read at least the introduction before I am back." He lightly placed the book on his lap.
"Gotcha." Not that Harry had anything better to do. Voldemort swept out of the room without another word.
Now alone, with no Narcissa and no Voldemort for the first time, Harry sprung into action.
He swung his wobbly legs over the bed and dove for his trunk. Shuffling through the messes of parchment, boxes, and clothes, he finally found it.
"Tom, please get out of there." He called.
An inky blackness spilled over the pages. Harry staggered back as it spilled into his lap. It formed into a human-like shape, and Tom was finally visible.
"Wow, I didn't know it looked like that."
"Where are we?" Tom looked around the room sceptically.
"Ah, promise you won't react badly?" Harry wasn't sure what he'd think. It wasn't as if they had many conversations; it was mostly just cuddling.
"Where. Are. We." He spoke slowly.
"Erm, I kinda got willingly kidnapped—"
"What?"
"Shhhh," Harry said, his hand clamped over his enraged face. "So Voldemort kinda took me away from the Dursleys and, uh… something was revealed, and now he doesn't want me dead."
"What."
"Yeah, it's kinda… weird but nice?"
Tom looked at him as if he were crazy (he was). He gently cupped his cheeks and drew him closer.
"What 'something' was revealed?" He inquired once more, slowly.
"Erm, I'm a horcrux?" Harry smiled.
"What!"
Tom's eyes searched him quickly. He scoured him, until his eyes snapped up to his scar.
A strong tingle ran through his whole body as they made contact. Harry shivered. It wasn't unpleasant, just different. But he leaned into the touch on instinct.
"So this is… good for you?" Tom hesitated as he asked.
"Maybe? I have been threatened with confinement without seeing the light of day if I don't participate in training, and I'll be walled up after I finish school until the war is over. Don't worry, he promised me the Defence Against the Dark Arts position after it's over."
Harry didn't know if he was trying to reassure Tom or himself.
"And you're... okay with that?" Tom placed his hands on Harry's shoulders.
The floodgates opened.
Harry sobbed like he had never sobbed before. Lean arms enveloped his body, wrapping him into a warm hug. Hands gently rubbed circles into his back.
Waves upon waves of sorrow overcame him. Why was this happening to him? Was it something he did wrong, or was the universe punishing him for something he didn't realise he had done? Forced to be tied to the murder of his parents for the rest of his life?
Was Tom even a comfort to him? Or was it the horcrux in his head telling him to be? Was his one solace a lie?
Did it even matter if it was all true?
Tom guided him to the bed. He carefully set him down and crawled in next to him. Harry immediately clung on to Tom, digging his nails into his shirt.
He poured all his stress out as he banged his head against Tom's chest. All the frustration of the dawning months collapsed in on him. His chest burned, and his heart palpitated.
Cicles rubbed into his back. He tried to focus on that, on anything besides the raw emotion flooding over him.
Slowly, very, very, slowly, he cried until his tears ran dry. The exhaustion settled deep into his bones, and he was out like a light.
"What is the first principle of occlumency?" Voldemort asked as he slid onto the other side of the table.
"Walls."
"Wrong."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, it's guarding."
"It is making sure you are aware of yourself." Voldemort sighed, "Awareness of yourself will make yourself notice a difference faster."
"Okay, got it." Harry nodded. He didn't get it.
"First, you're going to feel what an attack is like. I will move more obviously than normal, and you should feel it. Act on instinct."
Voldemort stared him dead in the eye. It was a bit unnerving seeing his slitted pupils narrow into thin needles against a crimson-red background.
There was a niggling feeling just behind his eye. It further protruded into his brain, coasting until it hit the middle.
Harry was curled up in his cupboard as he listened to the sound of the early morning news. His hand was pressed against his mouth, a bubbling heat radiating from it.
He had burned his hand again.
Withdrawing it, he saw the skin was puffy and pink, with fluid running under the blister. He winced as the heat didn't die down.
Harry pushed the memory away. But as soon as he got away from it, another one replaced it.
In the library, Harry laboured over a book. There is nothing useful on the sea life. He already failed the bubble-head charm, and he wanted something more concrete.
"Harry!" Neville called quietly from another shelf.
"What?" Harry snapped. After seeing the blond's skittish reaction, he gave an apologetic smile.
"I think I know how you can win this!"
Though not unpleasant, Harry pushed it away. It wasn't anything important.
Adreline coursed through his veins as he dodged another attack from the basilisk. This time, she ran her head into the stone, and blood poured from her wounds.
Harry raised the sword as she came barreling down. Trapped between the stones, fire coursed through his veins.
The sword had gone directly through the basilisk's skull with her own force.
He withdrew the sword and found a large fang buried deep in his forearm.
Again, he pushed away the memory.
The world came back to him. He found himself staring back into crimson eyes again, Voldemort's pupils dilating until his eyes looked black.
It was terrifying.
Harry averted his gaze.
"You did not try to make me leave your mind, but instead redirected me." Voldemort sounded like he was saying it more to himself than Harry.
"Okay, what does that mean?"
"It means it will be easier to teach you. The most basic way of avoiding attacks is through redirection. It's to keep your attacker from knowing you're aware they're attacking. Subtly is key." Voldemort jotted down some notes on parchment.
"Neat." Maybe Harry's wasn't a lost cause after all.
"You know how it feels to the unprotected mind; now we must put up barriers to prevent surface-level attacks."
The process was long and tedious, and it frequently led Harry into memories he'd rather not revisit. But Voldemort didn't say a word about them, something he was entirely grateful for.
He now had a "mindscape," as it was called. His visualisation skills were fairly good, and he was able to construct it easily.
He needed somewhere to store his memories. So, he chose a castle—Hogwarts, to be specific. There were traps around every corner, mostly prank-inspired, and a roaming Ceberus that tried to chase even Harry.
The issue was deciding where to lay the memories. He and Voldemort argued on and on ("Don't store them in an obvious place." "Then how will I find them?") but they settled on a half-and-half approach.
His important memories were closely guarded not only in the Chamber of Secrets, but also in the kitchen behind the fruit painting. Down in the Chamber, the basilisk was there along with Fawks, who got along in his mindscape.
Less important, mundane memories were wrapped around those, but they also littered the library and common rooms. Certain bricks would also activate memories, and more distant, blurry ones, were in the Forbidden Forest.
"That's fine for the first lesson." Voldemort tapped his stack of papers together and aligned them in a neat pile.
"My brain hurts." Harry complained, warm sweat dripping from his brow. The mental work was more taxing than Quidditch practice.
"You are advancing slower than I would prefer. We will meet daily until you're at an acceptable level."
Harry banged his head against the table.
"Stop that. It does not aid you." Voldemort hit him with the stack of papers like a misbehaving dog.
"It makes me feel better."
"Find a better way to cope, or retreat to your mindscape." Voldemort stood, casting a long shadow over him.
Harry was left to his own devices for the rest of the day. Being a Dark Lord was apparently a busy task.
Fortunately for Harry, he was able to explore the rest of the manor. Voldemort put a tracking spell on him, much to his annoyance, but it was better than being cooped up in his room all day.
He strolled through the garden on a weary, cloudy day. The overcast had fog rolling through the bushes and obscuring anything more than a few meters ahead of him.
But it was peaceful.
Past a row of flowers that looked like blue butterflies was a bench in front of a fountain. A cold mist covered him, but it was reassuring in a way.
Lean arms wrapped around his waist. Harry jumped, thrashing for a second, but relaxed as soon as he heard a light chuckle.
"How did you get here?" Harry asked, leaning back into Tom's chest.
"I can walk, you know." He nuzzled Harry's hair. "And it's easy to track your magical signature."
"Okay," He replied, basking in the attention.
They didn't wait long to take the bench. Harry rested his head in Tom's lap, eyes closed. They were in a peaceful silence as Tom traced Harry's facial features.
No matter how hard the day was, Harry rested easily, knowing that he'd always have someone to return to.
Voldemort: Yer a horcrux, Harry Harry: what Tom: what
Harry: I'm stressed Tom: Cuddles for you, free of charge
