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Harry lay in bed, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it. He'd just had dinner with Lord Voldemort. The Dursleys had just had dinner with Lord Voldemort. And no one died. It was surreal. More than surreal, even.
But the biggest question Harry had on his mind was why? Why was Voldemort here? What did he want? And why hadn't he killed anyone? He'd had the perfect chance. It wasn't like Harry or the Dursleys could have really defended themselves against him if he'd tried anything. But he hadn't. He'd just sat there eating the meal Harry had worked hard to prepare, and made boring small talk with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.
It was very confusing, Harry thought. His own reaction to it all was probably just as confusing though. While he was surprised by the whole thing, why wasn't he panicking? Why hadn't he freaked out when he'd seen Voldemort at the door? Why had he just...allowed him in and not told the Dursleys who he was?
At the same time though, he wondered if it really even mattered. The Order wasn't here, so it wasn't like he could tell them. Hedwig wasn't here either, so he couldn't mail anyone. He supposed Mrs Figg was an option, but he wasn't exactly allowed off of the property, so that was sort of out too. Really, this was the best possible time for Voldemort to show up and do...whatever it was that he was currently trying to do.
But what about the blood wards, he wondered? Weren't those supposed to stop Voldemort from being able to get into Number Four? Or did it not matter because Harry had invited him in himself?
Well, maybe he could just ask Voldemort about it all. For whatever reason, it seemed like he was living next door anyway. ...Wait, did that make him Mr Number Two?
The next morning, Harry found himself working in the front yard yet again. He wasn't all too bothered by it. It was overcast today with a fair bit of wind, proving a nice break from the overwhelming heat they'd been dealing with recently.
Uncle Vernon had already left for work, and Dudley was still asleep. Aunt Petunia was on the phone with Mrs Number Six, no doubt telling her all about Voldemort, or rather, Mr Number Two's visit last night.
Pfft. Mr Number Two. That was never not going to be funny.
"Working again, Harry?"
Harry, hands in the dirt where he'd been preparing it to bury some seeds, paused and looked over, once again not sure if he was surprised or not to see Voldemort. Or maybe it would make more sense to call him Riddle, since he looked damn fi-ah, human. Yes. Human. "Are the blood wards broken or something?" he asked instead.
Riddle's lips curled into a small smile, like he was amused by the question. "Not quite."
"Then how exactly are you standing here right now? Aren't those wards supposed to keep you off the property?"
"They are, yes, but blood is the very reason I'm here right now."
Harry's brow furrowed. What did that mean? He'd said it like it was something stupidly obvious, but-wait. Blood? No wonder he was treating it like it was obvious! It was obvious! But still, all he said was, "Shit."
Because what else could he say? Riddle had his blood in him. He'd had it ever since he'd been resurrected the other year. So no, the blood wards weren't broken, they just didn't see Riddle as a threat. At least in terms of blood.
"Alright," said Harry, looking back up, "so I know how you're here, but I still don't know why you're here."
Riddle frowned slightly. "That is a good question. Of course, my original purpose was to kill you and your relatives."
Harry stiffened, automatically reaching for the wand he didn't have on him. "Original?"
"Yes, original. My purpose has now changed."
"To what?"
"Another good question." Riddle squatted down next to Harry, looking at him closely and ignoring the way Harry cringed back a little. "Tell me something, Harry. Do you want to leave this house?"
Harry blinked. "Leave?"
"Permanently."
"What-what're you getting at?" asked Harry a little apprehensively.
"There are no ulterior motives in my question," said Riddle plainly. "If you wish to leave this house for good, I am willing to aid you in doing so."
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. "How?" he asked curtly.
"All you have to do is come next door with me."
"...That sounds like something a serial killer would say."
Riddle raised a brow.
"Right. Forgot who I was talking to." Harry glanced around, but it didn't seem like anyone was watching. "Going to Number Two isn't really taking me away from here though, is it?"
"But it will lead to it." Riddle stood back up. "Come to me on your own terms, if you wish. I'll be in the house." And with that he walked away, heading directly back to Number Two, disappearing from view behind the fence.
Harry stared at the fence, and then down at his dirt covered hands, and then at Number Four. Would Riddle really be able to help him? Would going to Number Two really help him get away from Number Four and by extent, Privet Drive forever? But the house was literally just next door. It wasn't like he'd be going far, even if he did try. And more than that, why did the Dark Lord even want to help him get away from here? What was he playing at?
Still, Harry found himself hesitating. He knew that the best thing for him to do was to get in contact with the Order and let them know what was going on, but...he didn't. He stared at the fence between the two houses, brow drawn in thought. He was debating with himself. Debating in a way he never thought he'd do. Debating about something he'd never thought he'd ever have to debate about.
Harry wanted two different things, and he couldn't decide which of the two he wanted more. There were lots of pros for one of the two, and just as many cons for the other, but even then, he just couldn't choose one, his mind and heart battling.
In the end, it was Uncle Vernon who made the decision for him the next day...
Left in a heap on the floor, Harry watched blearily as his uncle stomped out of the room. Aunt Petunia was calling him for some help with something heavy in the kitchen, and since he wasn't particularly strong, Harry knew it was going to be at least a few minutes before he came back.
...Was Riddle really serious about being able to get him away from here? Would going to Number Two really help him? Because now was probably the perfect time for him to leave if Riddle was right. Harry knew he was quick and sneaky, even while in pain. He could slip out easily enough and be gone before anyone noticed.
But what if doing that just led to Riddle killing him instead? Would leaving really even be worth it? It was August third. He only had to make it to the end of the month before he could leave for Hogwarts again. Couldn't he just...ignore all of this until then? It wasn't like any of it was new or anything. He knew how to handle it.
But still, there was a possible escape so close by. Even if the person offering that escape was Lord Voldemort, could it still be worth it? He had to make his decision quickly. Uncle Vernon wasn't going to be gone for much longer.
Releasing the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Harry pushed himself to his feet with a grimace and made for the bedroom door, only to stop dead when he saw Dudley, who was clearly on his way back to his own room from the bathroom.
They stared at each other for a second, both of them wide eyed, though for different reasons, neither of them saying a word. After what felt like an entire minute, Dudley averted his gaze and started for his room again.
"Didn't see nothin'," he muttered as he went. Without another word, he stepped into his room and shut the door.
Exhaling slowly, Harry turned to the stairs and quietly headed down, expertly avoiding the two spots that creaked. Front door right ahead, he glanced over his shoulder towards the kitchen. He couldn't see anyone, but he could hear both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's voices coming from over there. Taking the chance, he opened the door, stepped out of the house, and shut the door behind him as quietly as possible.
But he didn't waste time. Already figuring there were no Order members around, because they hadn't been there yet at all anyway, he went straight next door to Number Two. He didn't bother relaxing yet though. There were still way too many things that could go wrong.
He hesitated for only a second or two before he knocked on the door as firmly as he could. His breathing was starting to get a little ragged now, and he knew it wasn't because of whose door he was knocking on.
The door opened and Harry looked up. Riddle was staring down at him, unsurprised and unbothered. He didn't question Harry's somewhat unpleasant appearance, only confirming Harry's suspicion that he really did know what was going on, even if he hadn't said anything about it.
"Have you decided to take my offer?"
"...Yeah."
"Come in."
Harry hesitated for only a beat before he obeyed and stepped into the house, the door falling shut behind him when he nudged it. In silence, Harry followed Riddle to the sitting room, only to freeze when he realized they weren't alone in the house. There were two others there besides them.
Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, who'd been seated casually in two armchairs, stiffened when they saw him, and while Riddle hadn't been surprised by the sight of Harry, the same couldn't be said about these two.
Snape was on his feet almost instantly, a dark look on his face. "What have you done to yourself, Potter?"
Harry scowled. "I didn't do anything except leave that bloody house! You should be asking what they did to me!" Then he calmed back down, the scowl still fixed firmly in place. "Not that any of this hasn't happened before or anything."
Snape opened his mouth to say something or another, but he was cut off by Riddle. "Argue later," he said curtly. "Severus, heal him."
With no real choice in the matter, considering who had asked it of him, Snape inclined his head. "As you wish, my Lord."
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly at that, but really, what could he even say? He was the one who had chosen to come here, after all. So he forced himself to relax as Snape demanded he sit down, and did as told. He tried not to flinch either when Snape raised his wand and ran it over him, muttering under his breath. Riddle and Malfoy were watching closely, but neither of them said anything. Harry was almost grateful for that.
The air in the room was incredibly awkward as Snape healed Harry. He used some spells and a potion and a salve, and Harry just did whatever was asked of him, still wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. Because it was going to, wasn't it? It had to, right?
That's it for now. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!