The next month passed at an unnerving rate. Harry could scarcely believe how routine his life had become under the Dark Lord's tutelage. For the most part, he had been allowed to select the spells he learned. Originally, he had only chosen a few spells that dabbled in the dark arts. He had always known he would not be able to get away with using only light spells. However, as he continued to research and expand his spell repertoire, he was loath to admit that increasingly dark spells had begun to interest him more and more.

He would be a fool not to acknowledge that there were those who genuinely wanted to do him harm. Even if Voldemort seemed to have an invested interest in his livelihood, he suspected duels like the one Bellatrix had challenged him to would become a common occurrence in this snake den if the Death Eaters were allowed to do so. And it wasn't in the Dark Lord's nature to be overly protective; Harry knew inner fighting was inevitable, that Voldemort would want him to be able to stand up to the rest of his insane followers. In some capacity, he wished Dumbledore had held him to the same standards. Voldemort did not hide from the truth of the world like the elderly light wizard did. Dumbledore had expected Harry to win this war without providing any training. Voldemort was personally taking it upon himself to make sure Harry did have the power and spell repertoire to not only be able to fight but to win.

Beyond wanting to know spells that would hold up in a duel and actually get an enemy off his back, Harry had taken a strong interest in healing spells. Surprisingly, almost all the healing spells that were actually useful were dark. When he'd asked Voldemort why that was, the Dark Lord had launched into a lengthy discussion on how most healing magic cost more from the caster than usual spells. It strained and even stole from the witch or wizard's life source. "Life for life," he'd explained, warning that trying too advanced of a spell could completely drain or even kill the caster.

Unlike what Harry had seen from the school medi-witch, who gave potions and healed simple injuries, the spells that interested Harry the most were castings that could actually replenish blood loss or knit together a severed appendix. Spells that could save a life if he didn't have the right potions on hand. But to do so came at a cost from the caster, a cost that could be very damaging if not deadly. Or worse, he could transfer that cost to another to bear, which is why he suspected most were so dark. The spells had a cost, but it was indiscriminate in choosing who had to pay it.

He hated how the voice in the back of his mind, the one that sounded too similar to Tom Riddle for Harry's liking, concluded that those types of spells could be extremely useful in a battle. He could steal raw magic and life force from his opponent. An injury cast on him could become an advantage if he countered with the healing spell correctly, sapping energy and strength from his opponent while healing himself.

If the spell used was strong enough, it could completely incapacitate them. And Voldemort had offered to teach him to cast them wandlessly. Harry shivered, remembering the calculating look the Dark Lord had given him, knowing that the usefulness of the spell would likely outweigh the weight of Harry learning something that was squarely in the dark spell camp. Harry had almost vowed then and there not to dabble in any more dark healing, but the Slytherin had gone off and given Harry another one of his mysterious compliments, saying the teen was particularly strong, even for a teenager, and that he should not fear healing magic.

"You are already powerful enough to cast most of the spells in this book," Voldemort had declared, pointing to the copy of "Beating the Grave: A Comprehensive Guide to Holistic Healing" that Harry had brought to their normal study area in the master library. "The magic you seek to learn could save a life; you should not fear that type of power."

"You just want me to learn dark magic," Harry had grumbled in response. He hadn't expected such a seemingly genuine response.

"My young apprentice, I wouldn't dare deprive you of anything that would make you stronger, that might aid you as you continue to grow into the formidable wizard I know you're capable of." Voldemort paused, giving him an assessing look. "As we discussed during your first days here, you have a gray core, a highly versatile aptitude. While it would be limiting to study only light magic, if I thought you would be stronger using only it, I would not press you so hard to learn both sides of magic. But you are exceptional with dark magic, I know you've noticed that you pick it up quickly. To not explore it would be to handicap yourself. You should never fear power. To do so would make you weak."

"I've never wanted to be powerful," Harry muttered back, frowning. He hated it when Voldemort took the conversation down this type of route. Not because of the words, but because of how they resonated with the teen. Harry was finding it harder and harder to disagree with the Dark Lord's logic.

"Even if it could protect you? If you could protect your friends?" Voldemort asked knowingly.

"The only reason they need protection is because you've forced them into a war."

Voldemort had actually laughed; it was so human that it was unnerving. "Do you think I'm the first Dark Lord to try and drive change? The first witch or wizard to have a dissenting opinion from the sheep? Or that I will be the last? What about the creatures that roam the dark forest? The murderers and thieves waiting in the alleys to rob and leave you for dead?" Red orbs met emerald, Harry could feel the seriousness of the wizard's words settling on and around him. "The world is dangerous with or without me. I simply seek to make you strong enough to survive it."

Not having a response, Harry had turned away from the Dark Lord, returning to his studying. He hadn't crossed the healing spells off his list. And as he thought back to that day, he could not find himself regretting learning them.

Setting his fork and knife on his emptied plate, Harry leaned back in his chair, waiting for Voldemort to dismiss him. The dinner they had just shared had been a quiet affair. Harry had grown used to the Dark Lord having stretches of silence; the wizard seemed more than content to not force conversation when it did not suit him. At first, it had made Harry worried, suspecting the Dark Lord was drawing him into some form of false comfort. But now that it had happened many times, often multiple nights a week, Harry had begun to accept that Voldemort might not have some ulterior motive, that the Slytherin usually preferred silence.

This made Harry wonder all the more why Voldemort forced the teen to dine with him, if for no other reason than he wanted Harry to become increasingly more comfortable in his presence. Which, begrudgingly, Harry had to admit, might be the case. Between nightly meals and their now-daily routine of studying and training, Harry felt much more at ease around the wizard than he had ever thought possible. Voldemort was stern and would threaten him whenever the mood suited him, but for the most part, he was patient and their arguments had become fewer and further between. While not entirely comfortable, Harry no longer felt their relationship was as antagonistic or precarious.

Setting his utensils aside, Voldemort lifted his wine glass, gazing at it pensively. Harry's own glass remained untouched before him. Every evening, he was offered wine, but he had grown too cautious to let even a drop touch his lips. Since the dark wizard had cunningly used Ron's letter against him, Harry had taken to heart the belief that the Slytherin would only use him, with no genuine care beyond his usefulness. The raven-haired youth had made an internal vow – he would do everything within his power to grow stronger, to regain control of his enslaved life on his terms. If that meant hard work and resisting senseless temptations like alcohol, so be it. He had learned the hard way, having taken even a sip on the night when Bellatrix and others had dined with them, the same night he had been challenged and defeated in a duel.

The room's atmosphere grew heavy, a silent tension enveloping Harry and Voldemort as they sat across from each other. The Dark Lord's unwavering gaze remained fixed on his wine glass, the crimson liquid swirling within, mirroring the intricate thoughts that churned within the dark wizard's mind. Harry's eyes, though averted, couldn't help but occasionally steal glances at the enigmatic wizard who held him captive.

Harry's mind drifted back to the beginning of his dark magical studies. Despite his initial resistance, he was beginning to see the logic behind Voldemort's arguments. Survival in a perilous world demanded more than just light magic. Voldemort's unsettling words seemed to offer a way to protect himself and those he cared about.

The silence in the room was finally shattered as Voldemort placed his wine glass down and fixed his piercing gaze on Harry. "You are making excellent progress in your studies. I am pleased with how quickly you grasp new spells and how well you've adapted to this situation."

Harry looked up, meeting Voldemort's intense gaze. The red orbs that stared back at him held a depth that was hard to ignore. The compliment unsettled him. He debated whether to simply nod and accept it, but the deeper meaning bothered him. "I'm not like you," Harry said, his voice carrying a mix of defiance and uncertainty. "I don't want to become consumed by darkness."

Voldemort leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "I am well aware," irritation tinged his tone. "You are not like me in many ways. I would not hesitate to master this power at my fingertips. You, on the other hand, are afraid of it, avoiding it. If not for me, you'd remain a lamb waiting for Dumbledore to offer you up for slaughter. But you are also more like me than either of us cares to admit."

Harry's thoughts raced as he considered Voldemort's words. Confusion and a stark sense of truth battled within him. Their childhoods had striking similarities, and they both spoke Parseltongue. Harry had doubts about his intellectual prowess compared to the Dark Lord, but he was resourceful, quick to devise creative solutions. Harry couldn't deny that he was becoming powerful. The spells he was mastering were not mere teenage jinxes; they had started to tap into potent, ancient magic that few knew existed. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

"Perhaps," Harry agreed, preferring to avoid an argument. Ultimately, his choices would define him, not his power. He increasingly feared that Voldemort's way of thinking was clouding his own.

His contemplation was interrupted as Voldemort took another sip of wine, then turned his gaze toward the young Gryffindor. "You recall the bargain we made, I presume?" Voldemort inquired.

Harry arched a brow. Did he mean their apprentice and master promise? How could Harry forget? He lived it every day. "Of course," he replied, his confusion evident.

"Then you will not resist when I teach you the Unforgivable Curses tomorrow?" Voldemort's question hung in the air.

Harry swallowed, his gut hollowing. Of course, he chastised himself, remembering the other promise he had made – the one to protect Ron, even though Ron had never been in any real danger. Scowling, Harry glared at the table. "I thought I wasn't strong enough to learn them," he quoted back to the Dark Lord.

He had been surprised when the Unforgivable Curses were not immediately added to his training. After the first week, his surprise had grown into deep-seated anxiety, not understanding why Voldemort had made him agree to something and then delayed the instruction. Voldemort had explained that his magic wasn't strong enough, that the Unforgivables were dark magic that could harm his core and mental stability if he rushed into learning them. All three required significant intent and conviction, and the cost to the caster could be immense if they were not adept in the dark arts. This was why light witches and wizards feared them – not only for what they did to the victim but also for what they could do to the caster. . As Harry very well knew, there were plenty of ways to torture and even kill. Voldemort had explained that it was what the Unforgivables cost the caster which made them firmly on the dark end, but he had not gone any deeper than that, and Harry wasn't exactly eager to learn more.

"I've been monitoring your use of dark magic; your ability to cast it is increasing at a satisfying rate with no adverse impact on you."

"Adverse impact?" Harry echoed, his concern evident. This sounded far more severe than the ordinary cost of energy associated with magic.

Voldemort nodded, considering the young Gryffindor. "While what I told you about the alignment of cores with light and dark was true, there are aspects of dark magic you don't yet understand."

Harry frowned, his eyes narrowing. He held his tongue, knowing Voldemort would continue.

"As you know, dark magic exacts a toll on the caster, one that can sometimes be transferred to another. But the cost is unique. Light magic does not impose the same kind of costs."

"Light magic doesn't impose costs?" Harry interjected, puzzled.

"Of course it does," Voldemort reprimanded. "Even casting light magic tires you out. On our first day of training, you were exhausted after demonstrating the spells you knew. That's a cost, just like the fatigue you experience when casting gray or dark magic. All magic taps into your core; the more powerful you are, the more you can cast. When your castings do not align with your core, you deplete it faster. I have already explained this, Harry."

Harry's cheeks tinged with embarrassment at the reminder. While they had touched upon this, they hadn't delved deeply into core magic. He now realized his negligence. He had agreed to learn dark magic without ensuring it wouldn't harm him – he had simply trusted Voldemort's word that he could cast it and was strong enough, that his core aligned with it.

"So, what's the difference then?" Harry asked, intrigued. "If both types of magic have a cost, why is dark magic considered so much worse?"

Voldemort's gaze remained fixed on Harry as he explained, "It's because of what casting dark magic imposes on the caster. Light magic is cast with intent and takes something from you. Take the Patronus, for example. Strong light magic relies on feelings and intent, just like dark magic. However, strong light magic actually depletes a part of you. If you have an endless supply of happy memories, casting a Patronus would never be an issue. But if you rely on the same memory repeatedly, it weakens with each casting. If it's particularly potent, you may be able to use it your whole life since the average wizard or witch does not usually have to fight dementors and sustain it for a long time. But you could use it to an extent that the happiness is drained; eventually, that memory would no longer be strong enough."

"Do you mean to say the spell takes away the memory itself?" Harry asked, a furrow forming on his brow.

"In a sense, yes, it takes something from the memory, not the memory itself. You won't lose the memory, but the joy it once brought you will diminish over time," Voldemort explained. "The more potent the spell, the more it extracts. The simpler spells taught in school usually have little to no effect; that's why they're taught to children, and they tend to lean towards neutrality or the light. Neutral magic neither gives nor takes. Stronger spells aren't introduced until later years, and dark magic isn't taught at all. Truly potent light magic takes a toll, while dark magic leaves an imprint."

Harry found it hard to believe that a Patronus could deplete the happiness from a memory. "So, if I use the same memory over and over, it won't bring me as much joy?"

Voldemort nodded, "Precisely. You use a memory to fuel that particular spell, but there are other light spells that draw upon different sources. Intent always guides the magic. Be it a memory, hope, love, or whatever you channel, strong light magic chips away at it. Not everyone can cast such powerful spells, but those who do pay a higher price than those sticking with neutral or weaker magic."

A sneer momentarily twitched on Voldemort's otherwise stoic face. "This is yet another reason why forcing light magic on those with a darker aptitude is both cruel and inhibiting. Not everyone has experienced the emotions required to power light magic. Your magical core, while predisposed towards one of the three branches, can marginally shift. Those with harsher lives will naturally gravitate towards their strongest state. Not all are as fortunate as the people you call friends and live in ignorance with."

Thinking of Snape or even Draco, Harry could see the truth in Voldemort's words. Even Sirius, with his ancestrally dark background, made Harry wonder if he was at a disadvantage when attempting to cast light spells. Harry frowned, thinking of his own upbringing. Was this why dark magic seemed to come easy to him, why he ever preferred gray spells now that he knew what to look for. His childhood had been lonely and rough. It had taken him a very long time to find a memory happy enough to produce a Patronus.

"That same principle applies to dark magic. You've mostly encountered simple dark spells that leave you fatigued, but their cost to you is not significant. However, with more potent dark spells, like the Unforgivables, the price is much higher. Instead of simply sapping energy like the Patronus, these spells amplify and intensify the emotions within you. If you're not careful, they can begin to change you," Voldemort clarified.

Harry's voice lowered in unease as he asked, "Change me how?"

"Consider the purpose of those spells: control, harm, and death." Voldemort's red eyes bore into Harry, assessing the increasingly anxious teenager. "To cast them successfully, you must genuinely mean it, truly desire to inflict those actions. You must believe that the casting of the spell is justified. However, unlike the Patronus, which draws from a memory to cast, the Unforgivables strengthen the emotions you harness. You'll be left with those amplified emotions—whether it's hatred, satisfaction, envy, passion, fear, desire—these are all emotions that fuel dark magic. With each casting, it becomes easier. You'll find yourself less averse to casting them because the emotions needed for the spell will be closer to the surface of your mind, easier to access."

"And does this apply to all dark magic? The more I cast, the less I'll resist it?" Harry asked incredulously, running his hands through his disheveled hair, attempting to absorb the overwhelming information.

"Only with powerful dark magic. Just like light magic, the stronger the spell, the more it influences you. You've mainly encountered weak or borderline gray dark magic. Very little residue would have remained with you," Voldemort clarified.

The knowledge Harry was gaining felt staggering. He struggled to believe it was true, yet it resonated with him. Why had no one told him before that casting a Patronus could deplete the happiness from his memories? He voiced this thought aloud.

"Not many can cast truly potent spells, so it's largely irrelevant to them," Voldemort reminded. "Besides, for most people, losing some happiness from a memory is a small price to pay for avoiding the alternative—having your soul sucked out. It's not like you cast these spells every day. Potent spells serve a specific purpose; you don't use them casually. They consume your magical core, just like any other spell, but to a greater extent. And on the light side, mustering and sacrificing positive emotions is largely viewed as a sacrifice worthy to make. They are biased, claiming the dark should not be allowed to make the same personal decision. They fear what changes dark magic can make while utterly ignoring the cost of light magic."

Harry couldn't help but point out, "You enjoy torturing people, I could see them wanting to deter you from using strong dark magic. Wanting to use it more often."

Voldemort smirked, "Indeed, but I don't fear the emotions that fuel it. I hold most people in contempt, and I have no qualms about harming those who obstruct my path. As you're aware, I possess extraordinary power, and I don't easily tire from using magic. Dark magic does not change me, instead I am empowered to act more true to the character I was born with."

Harry was left with a sinking feeling that reminded him of the formidable dark wizard he was facing. "So, the same will happen to me?" he pressed. "I'll start to dislike people more, feel contempt if I learn the Unforgivables?"

"Given your stubbornness, you're unlikely to feel much change unless you use them daily. These feelings aren't your natural state, as they are mine. I'm not telling you this to persuade you to attempt the Unforgivables; you've already committed to learning them. I'm explaining so that you comprehend what casting them entails, so you don't fear them for the wrong reasons."

Harry questioning the timing, asked, "Why are you explaining this now? Why wait for me to learn them?"

Red eyes gave him a piercing look. "Because I want you to be informed. I'll make you learn them, and I'll force you to do many things that you will fight. However, as I've told you, I won't keep you in the dark. I won't conceal the truth from you. Regarding the timing, I wanted to observe how you reacted to dark magic. Most of the dark spells you've learned weren't exceptionally powerful, but a few were stronger. I needed to see how you handled them to ensure that teaching the Unforgivables wouldn't endanger you. It was unwise for you to learn the Patronus at such a young age; it's a highly potent spell, and your magical core wasn't fully developed. Your instructor put you at risk of magical depletion. Fortunately, you're exceptionally powerful, or you could have been harmed."

Harry reflected on this revelation, wondering about the consequences of his magical education. The new insights into magic's intricacies, the complexity of light and dark, weighed heavily on him. He glanced at Voldemort, his captor and teacher, in a new light. The man's motives and intentions appeared more intricate than Harry had first imagined. He realized that the path he had embarked upon was even more perilous than he had initially feared.

Breaking the silence, Voldemort's tone softened slightly. "Knowledge is power, Harry. I've shared this with you not to manipulate or frighten you but to ensure you grasp the complexities of magic, its costs, and consequences. Thankfully, I am highly skilled in magic. I won't endanger you during our training; I understand your capabilities and limits. However, I won't allow you to remain in ignorance. You possess immense potential. Together, we'll unlock it, and then you can decide who you want to be: the ignorant and vulnerable boy who arrived in my cell with no means to protect himself or his friends, or the strong, intelligent, and shrewd individual you're becoming—someone whom others will think twice about crossing, whether from the light or the dark side. You are not a puppet, Harry."

Harry nodded slowly, the weight of the revelations settling in. The world he once knew had transformed into something far more complex, and he was no longer the naive boy who had entered Hogwarts years ago. "I don't want to become like you. I don't want those emotions to dominate me."

Voldemort responded with a sly remark, "From what I've heard, you've already cast the torture curse willingly. You weren't as concerned when you had your godfather's murderer at wand-point."

Harry's mind raced back to the day in the Ministry, the night when Sirius had been lost to the veil. He had cast the spell, even if just for a fleeting moment, on Bellatrix, and he couldn't truly find it within himself to regret that decision.

"I cast it recklessly. I didn't understand what I was doing or the cost of dark magic," he admitted quietly.

Voldemort regarded him with an assessing gaze. "Then you prove my point. No one has taught you; no one has guided you. That's where the true danger lies. I won't allow the dark arts to turn you into an empty vessel, craving pain and running around on raw hate-filled emotions like Bellatrix. Under my instruction, you'll learn to appreciate the power at your disposal, to control it. It will not control you."

The Dark Lord rose from his seat. "Our training has barely begun, Harry. Tomorrow, I will instruct you in the Unforgivable Curses. I intended to teach you powerful light magic as well, nothing will be outside of your reach. But for now, you should rest. Knowledge can be both enlightening and exhausting."

Voldemort turned, heading to the exit that led to his wing of the manor. His soft black robes whispered over the stone floor as he silently departed, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. The young Gryffindor remained seated for a while, his mind abuzz with questions and uncertainties. He stared at his open palms, as if hoping to find answers within his very essence.

Eventually, Harry stood up, his determination wavering. He had committed to this path, and there was no easy way out. He had to tread this dark road cautiously, to learn what he could without losing himself in the process. The world was no longer simply black and white; he had to navigate the shades of gray. He would have to learn how to control magic, not let it control him.

As he made his way to his sleeping quarters, a sense of foreboding destiny loomed over him. The choices he made from this point forward would not only shape his own future but also determine the fate of the wizarding world. It seemed preposterous that a teenage boy could hold so much influence, but he was beginning to accept the possibility. The two most formidable wizards of their time were vying for control over him. Both had sacrificed much time and effort to have him in their grasp. And right now, the dark side had a much firmer grasp on him, was shaping his destiny. And he did not know how to stop it.

Sighing, Harry entered his quarters. He did not see a way out of learning the Unforgivable but he did feel renewed commitment to not letting them transform him into the monster he now dined with daily. Tomorrow would bring a new day, new darkness, and new choices. Dropping heavily onto his bed, Harry did not find himself eager to meet them.

AN: Finally, an update! Let me know what you think 😊