"Where is Harry?" Sirius frowned, even more, looking up and down the arena. His eyes searched for that unruly mob of black hair, which normally was so hard to overlook. But he couldn't see it. On the stage, Dumbledore was on his feet, staring at the spot where Harry had vanished. The other judges also stood up slowly. Remus leaned forward, trying to see anything.

"I can't see him, what is going on?" He asked. Sirius stood, trying to find his godson. He then, feeling a little worried pulled out the Marauder's Map.

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." He said pointing his wand. Like it always did ink bloomed from the centre of the folded piece of parchment and revealed the outlines of the grounds of Hogwarts. To the side a huge amount of names were clustered together, forming a ring. The arena. It was so tightly packed, Sirius couldn't read a single name. He placed his wand again on the parchment.

"Target Harry Potter." Back in the day they mostly used the map to find a person to pull a prank on them. But searching the map for someone in a school that contained a few hundred was tiring, to say the least, so Remus wove a spell into the map that would show the position of a certain person upon demand. It would turn the name of the person into Golden letters, making it stand out quite a bit.

No golden letters were shown by the map and Sirius felt his stomach crunch like it was crushed by some strong fist. He felt his breathing intensify and looked up, searching again the ranks in the attempt to find beloved godson even though he knew the boy wasn't there. Then it hit him. Of course, the map wouldn't find Harry that way. Again he pointed his wand at the map.

"Target Harry Peverell!" He grumbled out. That would be it, he was sure. Please, please.

But the map didn't change.

"Target Prongslet."

Nothing.

"Target my godson."

Nothing.

"Target Harry James Peverell Potter Black."

Nothing.

"Targe-"

Remus interrupted him by laying his hand on his forearm shaking his head. Dawn, sitting on Sirius' shoulder, looked even more distressed than the black-haired man. She batted her wings cooing in something you could describe as desperation.

"Padfoot, stop it. Harry isn't in Hogwarts."

Sirius stared at his best friend. Remus had seen Sirius in many different moods. He had seen him happy, so many times over all these years in school, when they pulled a prank, when they sat together in their dorm room, laughing and talking when they won a Quidditch match when he was James best man and Harry's godfather. He had seen him sad, oh so many times. Every year until he was sixteen when it was time to go home, in the days after him getting released, quite some times Remus had seen the sadness of a man who didn't get the luxury of coming to terms with his best friends death. Azkaban wasn't a place where you could mourn and get used to the idea that the people you love most in your life were gone.

He had also seen him before when he was afraid. That night in the third year when he was found out to have snuck out of Gryffindor tower by Professor McGonagall. That one time during the war, when James had been injured and they were unsure if he would lose his arm.

But never had Remus seen such a panic in his best friends eyes. There was an almost animalistic fear in those grey orbs, staring at him in utter devastation.

"Where is my godson?" He asked with a raspy voice.

The spinning slowed down eventually, signaling the end of the land with the same elegance that accompanied every single one of his port key journeys, which means with none at all. He fell to the floor in a heap of arms, legs and robes onto a hard wooden floor. His face was pressed into the dusty boards and he groaned picking himself up. His glasses had fallen off his nose and he stared blearily into the room he was in. Even without his aid, he knew he had left the arena. Stone walls surrounded him and the dust was too thick on the floor for the newly created construct. His hand felt around the flood and finally, his fingertips brushed over the metal frame of his glasses. Slipping those on Harry looked around. He was indeed in some kind of room. It was about two by two meters and made from stone and wood. It looked old. In the corner was a small cot also made from wood with a fading blanket on it. it looked like a prison cell to the boy. Harry blinked once more while he stood up. Where was he? Was this part of the test? Possible. There could be more than just the dragon. Harry picked up his wand and the egg. A dusting of his pants, he then felt it. Like an arch in his mind. The bond with Dawn was strained hard, to the brim. Without a doubt, he knew he was far, FAR away from his beloved familiar and that more than anything set him on edge. If he was far away, that meant that he wasn't in Hogwarts anymore and that in turn meant danger.

Pointing his wand at the door, he murmured out Alohomora, but nothing happened. Whatever held the door closed, was more than a simple spell. He tried two other spells but nothing happened. He felt a ruffle under his robes and Gryph stuck out his head from the collar oh the basilisk skin. If the snake had a problem with him wearing the hide of a dead relative, he didn't seem to show it. The snake flicked his tongue.

"Where are we?" The snake hissed lowly, taking in the room. Harry shrugged in an unknowing manner, stepping closer to the door.

"I have no idea." He said while stretching out his hand. But when he touched the door it felt like he got an electric shock and quickly pulled it back. His fingertips were smoking slightly. "But I somehow don't think this is part of the tournament."

Like it was summoned by his words, he heard footsteps walking towards the door. Harr stepped back again, to the corner of the room, his wand pointed at the door, while he pushed Gryph back into the folds of his robes. The snake hissed lowly but stayed put anyways. Outside metal met metal and it sounded like a keyring being pulled out and sorted through. Then the sound of a key sliding into a keyhole. Clicking sounds, like lots and lots of locks where released, came from the wooden object. Harry stiffened, reading for what might come. Whatever it was. He stared intently at the door and held his breath.

With the finality of a falling sword, the door clicked one last time this time louder and then the door was pulled open. On the other side was standing a gaunt-looking woman. Her brown hair was messy and greasy like she hadn't washed for quite some time. Her lips were blue and her eyes bloodshot. She looked malnutritioned and almost miserable. In her hand was a ring of keys, reminding Harry a little bit of Filch's massive keyring. Harry was surprised, he hadn't expected someone like this. He lowered his wand in surprise a little bit, looking at the woman.

"Who are y-"

Quickly like a snake, the woman pulled a wand. "Imperio!" She barked out, the curse slamming into Harry so fast he had no time to react. Like every time Professor Moodey had used the spell on him, Harry felt like his whole world was toned down a nudge. He felt like he was packed in thick layered of cotton, only seeing the world through a veil. The woman looked nervous, looking over her shoulder more than one time. she quickly turned and didn't even bother with taking his wand from him.

"Follow." She ordered her voice like sandpaper, raspy and dry. It cracked even a little bit Harry, even though he didn't really care in his state could hear tiredness and sort of nervousness. He immediately started following the woman, because why not? If she said so, it would be alright, right? His feet stumbled a little, while he walked in his daze behind her. They walked through corridors and upstairs. They were in some kind of castle, Harry thought but it seemed abandoned. A lot of spiderwebs and dust everywhere. Every now and then he saw an old banner, with a triangle, a circle and a line in it. He knew he should know that symbol, but he couldn't really put it. He wasn't too bothered by this, the thinking was exhausting and even though he knew he should care, Harry couldn't bring himself to really really care at all. Not caring was so much easier and not so exhausting. They walked up one final flight of stairs and stopped in front of a pair of large doors.

"Wait here." The woman ordered and Harry was happy to comply. While he stood still, not thinking, not moving just being, the woman knocked on the door and slipped inside. Harry heard muffled voices through the wooden barrier but he didn't really care about something like that. He just stood, content with the fact that he was following his orders. That thought made him frown a little. Why was he even happy about that? He didn't know the woman, why did he want to do what she told him to? Was she important? No, he couldn't remember her very well. So why did he want to do as she said? Was there a reason? Had he forgotten the reason? He must have forgotten the reason because if there wasn't a reason he wouldn't obey her and since he did obey her there must be a reason for that. Happy to find the solution to his problem, Harry left behind those thoughts again, returning to his mindless stare into the darkness. Behind him, the door was pulled open and the woman slipped out again, leaving the door open.

"Inside." She ordered the black-haired boy and Harry nodded, moving forward through the cracked open door. On the other side, there was a large hall, completely circular in form. It was like an assembly hall or a theatre. Ranks upon ranks of stone seats were around a platform in the centre. They were empty, only the quick movements of a few mice were there to be seen. There were more banners hanging from the walls, again with the symbol Harry had seen before and again he felt like something was there he should know about that. Stairs were cutting through the long lines of stone benches, leading down to a stage in the centre. The stage was made out of black glass-like stone and was completely flat. Different from the benches, it wasn't empty. A cauldron, a large armchair and a man were standing there. The man was nervously looking over his shoulder towards them before he leaned down to the armchair again nodding eagerly. Harry couldn't see who was sitting on the chair, but the man seemed to be afraid of whoever it was.

"Move." The woman poked her long thin finger in Harry's back and he kept walking. Moving down the stairs, he closed in on the stage. Since he wasn't told to stop when he finished the stairs, Harry walked up to the dark stone and climbed onto the stage, walking closer and closer.

"Stop." The woman said and Harry stood still looking up ahead. Yet he twitched a little because ever since he had stepped into this room, his head was hurting really bad. His forehead felt like someone was poking it with a white-hot needle relentlessly. He twitched even more because with the pain there came clarity, slowly but surely. His mind was still foggy but he couldn't come up with a reason why he should stand still if he was hurting.

There are instincts, buried deep in the human mind. Some have washed away over time and dulled down, like the instinct to mate is now mostly controlled by our own morals and principles or the instinctive fear of darkness and unknown places. Even the fear of spiders is in such a way. Most people still have the urges but can control those. Then there are instincts we totally lost from our forefathers. To hide in the trees is not a survival option for the human race and therefore we stopped doing this millions of years ago and the instinct died down.

But there are instincts we can't control. When there is a situation of danger, our bodies react of their own. Our breathing speeds up and we begin to sweat in preparation for the strain of either fighting a foe or fleeing from something that would harm us. Closing your eyes when you sneeze. Waking to loud noise. It is hard stopping oneself from doing these things, some even impossible. These reflexes are so integrated into our life we mostly don't notice them. But they are there, protecting us from a lot of threats out there in this big hostile world.

One of these reflexes is our bodies attempt to avoid pain. Pain as an indicator for hurt is to be avoided, something every baby learns rather quick. And this reflex, this instinct is on such a basic level that even the strongest mind control can't turn the instinct off completely. Therefore when Harry's order was to stay still, the order of his instincts was to either run or fight, both things not done while staying still. By this, he felt more and more of the restrictions to his mind fall off. First only slowly but then faster and faster more and more barriers fell, like a domino effect, like they were all hooked together and with one falling the others broke down more easily. First, only his hand twitched, then his left arm, then his whole upper body.

Sadly it wasn't fast enough.

"Bind him." A thin voice demanded. It was raspy but powerful, demanding and chilly. An ice-cold feeling rolled over Harry's back and all his inner warning signals turned up to eleven. He knew this voice well, even though he heard it only three times. Yet every time he had, it was connected with mortal peril. The night he got his scar, that evening at the end of their first year and in the chamber of secrets. He knew this voice well and felt utter horror, even forgetting the pain in his forehead for a moment. It helped him throw off the last of the Imperius curse.

He wanted to turn, he wanted to run away, he just wanted to get out of here as fast as he could but before he could even take a single step, the man beside the armchair had raised his wand and dark ropes sprung into existence, wrapping themselves around the boy. Harry tumbled, his arms and legs bound and fell over crashing hard onto his side. He felt something snapping in his shoulder, white-hot pain shooting through his upper body. He hissed in pain, his eyes shut. None of the other people in the room paid him any heed because the thin voice spoke again.

"Turn my seat, Amycus." Again Harry felt his skin crawl at the voice, but now the pain both in his shoulder and his forehead was the most pressing concern. He heard the rumbling of something heavy pulled over the flat floor. Harry mustered all his will and rolled over his injured shoulder until he was lying on his back. The effort made him scream in pain and left him panting but finally his weight wasn't on the injury letting him sigh in a little relief. When so much pain rushes through your body even a little lessening of it feels like heaven. The voice spoke to him again.

"Ah, Harry Potter, the Boy who lived. We meet again." Harry couldn't see the armchair in his position, lying on his back but he didn't want to either. After a moment of silence, the voice barked out.

"Sit him up you damn fool. I want him to look at me." The voice carried threat and anger with it and a few hurried steps followed. Harry howled in pain when he was grabbed ruffly on his hurt shoulder and pulled up into a sitting position. When he was sagging back, panting and gritting his teeth, he felt something in his back, something he could lean against. It felt like a rock or stone, probably summoned.

"Look at me boy." The voice said demanding and while Harry wanted to resist he felt a boot slammed into his side, making him howl in pain again.

"Do as you are told boy or-" The man growled out but was cut off by the thin voice again.

"I didn't order you to kick him, Carrow! Don't forget who is your master."

Harry again heard shuffling of clothes and when he blinked open his eyes he saw the tall thin man crouching on his knees before the armchair, begging for forgiveness. The one in the chair didn't mind his pleading, dark red eyes boring into Harry's emerald green ones and a nasty smile appeared underneath it.

"Hello, Harry." Voldemort said to him almost friendly.

Sirius slammed his fist onto the mantle of the hearth.

"Where is my godson?" He barked out, glaring at the room. There were quite a few people gathered inside of Dumbledores office. The old headmaster, Madam Greif and Viceheadmaster Nobunaga, Moody, McGonagall, Snape and Narcissa were spread around the room. Remus was outside with the map changing the spells on the piece of parchment. It was fixed on Harry's name, all of those, so if he would return, the map would alarm them. But Sirius had no intention of waiting for that to happen.

Dumbledore looked at the dark-haired man over the rim of his half-moon glasses, while he folded his hands in front of him.

"The wards don't recognize young Harry's signature on the grounds." He stated, making Sirius glare at him.

"I know that! I don't want to know where he isn't but where he is!" He snapped at the old man. Dumbledore frowned, while Snape sneered at him.

"Black, I have no idea who you think you are but-"

Narcissa had to take hold of Sirius's arm because the tall black-haired man was ready to jump onto the greasy-haired potion master and hit him in the face. His face was contorted in rage.

"You damn slimy git! I will-" Now his voice was cut off when Narcissa actually cast a Silencing charm at her cousin, while still holding on to his hand.

"Stop this behaviour now Sirius. And Severus I think you should better leave." She snipped at her former confidant. Severus crossed his arms, frowning.

"I am not yours to command, Miss Black." He answered with an ice-cold voice. Narcissa shook her head, crossing her arms as well, while Sirius calmed down at least a bit.

"Oh, I know Severus. I know quite well who holds your leash, now and before. Lucius was quite open about that."

Severus Snape clutched his right forearm. His eyes were poison-filled orbs, while he shot angry glares at the tall thin woman. Dumbledore raised his hands, trying to calm the situation.

"Miss Black, I can assure you, I trust Professor Snape completely so there is-"

But once again Narcissa cut of the old headmaster, her eyebrow raised. "That doesn't matter. We will not discuss the safety of Lord Peverell with a Death Eater in the room."

While no one gasped in surprise, quite a few eyes turned towards Severus Snape. Dumbledore had worked hard in the aftermath of the war to keep Severus role, during the said event, under wraps as best as he could. A small hearing with only the bare minimum of needed people from the DMLE had been all that had happened and Snape had left the courtroom with a slap on his wrist. All thanks to the man who defeated Gellert Grindelwald and the hero of the wizarding world. Even his second in command, Minerva McGonagall had never really known. Of course, she had suspected, but to hear it spoken out loud was a different story. She eyed her colleague with a careful look, frowning slightly. Moody was more open with his hostility, but he had known beforehand.

Snape glared icily at the former Lady Malfoy before he turned to Dumbledore.

"Headmaster." He simply said. Dumbledore sighed nodding slowly. With billowing robes the potion master swept out of the room, closing the door with a loud bang. Again Dumbeldore sighed, shaking his head.

"Sirius, my boy I really hope you and Severus will one day put aside your differences."

Sirius scowled, shaking his head. "And I hope that one day it will rain freedom for everyone. But we don't always get what we want, so keep your hopes to yourself, Albus."

Nobunaga slowly turned from the window where he looked out onto the school grounds. He didn't seem to have noticed the cold and nervous tension in the room when he smiled, folding his hands behind his back.

"Mr Snape part ways with us before the school year ends. None of us will see him again after." He smiled sagely, while Dumbledore looked rather alarmed. He looked over at his old friend.

"Really?" He just asked. Nobunaga smiled warmly nodding in agreement. Sirius blinked, looking at the weird old Japanese man. He didn't hold precognition in high regard and didn't care for anything about that slimy git.

"Be that as it may, what do we do about Harry?"

Again Dumbeldore turned to his old friend. "Takeda, did you see young Harry?"

The Japanese seer shook his head slowly sighing. "Albus-kun, I have told you many times now. My gift doesn't work this way. Sometimes I see, sometimes not. I can only look through a window. I don't decide which one opens. The fate of the young speaker I can't see. His path is clouded in mystery, his future is not written."

Dumbledore nodded, while inwardly he cursed. This was bad. Young Harry slipped more and more out of his grasp this year. Ever since Sirius had stepped onto the plate everything derailed more and more. He had taken the boy and loved him with all his heart. It was commendable and under normal circumstances, Albus would applaud this behaviour but everything about Harry Potter was far from normal.

The boy needed to be a symbol for this world. He needed to be firmly placed in the ranks of the light and a strong advocate for those who were too weak to speak for themselves. That was one of the reasons Dumbledore had decided to place him with the Dursleys. He had thought that him growing up in the muggle world would connect the boy with the muggle-borns, living more in their world, therefore giving him empathy for their position. He had been more than pleased seeing Harry form a bond of friendship with the Weasleys, a family so strong in Dumbledore's own corner. Harry had looked up to him for guidance and Albus, even though he felt disgusted by himself for his doing, had carefully steered him towards a selfless role in their society. The time of the old houses was up. For centuries now the noble houses had been a problem, dividing their society while other countries moved forward away from the nobility. Like France, Germany, America and Russia. Dumbledore wanted to see that bigoted system fall during his own lifetime. He had worked on this for years now and when Harry Potter, the boy who lived also stood against this system it would fall for certain. Tom, while still a wraith, was not a complete danger. The idea of him was far more of use than Tom being gone for good. As long as the shadow of Lord Voldemort hung over Harry's head, the boy would fight to better the world and in turn, become the hero the wizarding world saw him already as. All the while Draco Malfoy and his father did a perfect job even though unknown to create this antagonistic role for Harry. Everything was going well.

And then Sirius had shown up and Albus had misjudged the situation greatly. Even though he always knew that Harry didn't grow up in the most loving household, he had never thought that it had been so bad. The boy naturally had clung to the first resemblance of a family that he had found and didn't let go. Albus had thought that old respect and loyalty would stir Sirius to his side and condoned the contact between the two, but he had totally misjudged Sirius. Not only was the man quite a student of his late grandfather, a rather unpleasant yet sharp political mind, Sirius also placed a lot of blame right in front of Albus own feet. Some might say rightly so. He had pulled Harry from the Dursleys, unknowing of the consequences. One reason Albus wasn't too concerned about Tom, was because of the protection Lily's sacrifice gave to the boy. This old spell of love and care was held up by blood wards. Those wards were tied to her blood, so Petunia was needed to keep those up. Lily had been quite crafty in this. Her murderer could never harm the boy. The boy's second year had been a close call but still. The blood wards would hold for another year, but they would fall if Harry didn't return there coming summer. While he had thought he could persuade Sirius that this was necessary over the course of the year, he had his doubts about it now. It would be a lot harder to protect Harry if he didn't have the blood wards.

Albus' eyes turned to Narcissa Black. She was another piece in the puzzle he didn't like. The woman had been placed in Harry's life and seemed to take up some kind of mother role by now, a role Albus had hoped Molly Weasley would keep. She was a strong believer in pureblood and more so in the nobility of family, instilling those ideas in the boy. That wouldn't do at all. He couldn't lose Harry to that, yet there was nothing he could do about it.

Returning his mind to the present, he nodded to Takeda, rubbing his forehead.

"You are right old friend thank you for reminding me."

Sirius shook his head, stepping over to the desk. He placed both his hands on the tabletop, leaning down. His grey eyes stared into the headmaster's bright blue ones as he dared him to read his mind. Albus Dumbledore wasn't so stupid to try. The noble houses protected their thoughts with great jealousy and he had no desire to find out what traps and shields the notorious Black family installed in the minds of their offspring.

"We have to find him. Now!" Sirius declared, still staring into his eyes. His gaze softened ever so slightly and almost got a pleading look.

"Dumbledore you are the most powerful wizard in the world. There has to be a way for you to find him." There was this hope in Sirius's eyes Dumbledore had seen so many times before. This hope that had made him Great Warlock, Supreme Mugwump and more. This hope that Dumbledore could fix every problem, every situation. But he had sadly to shake his head. With all his power and knowledge there was one thing people tended to forget. He was mortal after all and his power and knowledge knew bounds. He couldn't do anything.

"No Sirius. I tried." He waved over to a trinket in the corner of his office. There was standing some kind of a globe, surrounded by thin sider like silver arms. Those were spinning and circling the globe like mad. One particular one was darting back and forth over the entirety of Europe.

"I tried to narrow his location but whoever has kidnapped Harry is clever. It seems like he is appearing all over Europe in a matter of seconds, moving from point to point far to fast to be true. I haven't seen anything like this for over ten years."

Sirius stared at him, blinking slowly. Then he swallowed hard.

"You don't think it's him, don't you?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly now the worry rather clear on his face.

"Voldemort was the last who was able to foul my detections over and over again. It is quite a possibility that Harry is in his grasp this very moment."

Sirius almost collapsed onto the table at that state, his face pale like a ghost and made a choking sound of distress.

Once more the Dark Lord looked different from the times before. He wasn't a face sticking out the back of a head, nor was he a projection from the memories of a diary. He looked like a corpse, with decaying flesh and bone like arms. On the left side of his face, the flesh was actually rotted away, revealing bone and giving him the look like he was smirking constantly. His left eye socket was empty, only a red light burning inside. A black rotting robe covered thankfully most of his body, but Harry could even see that only one foot was sticking out from underneath the tattered clothes. With cracking and grinding sounds Voldemort tilted his head slightly to the side.

"After three years we finally meet again. The most powerful Wizard in the world and the boy who lived." The last words were said with such smugness, taunting Harry. The boy leaned a little to the side to relieve his hurt shoulder blinking away the tears of pain, ignoring the pain in his forehead.

"Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world, not you." He hissed out. The zombie-like creature laughed out in thin cold sounds. It was almost cheery.

"Your faith in this bumbling old fool is quite amusing you know that Potter?" His speech was accompanied by the sound of flies that were coming from the rotting inside of his mouth.

Harry swallowed down the pain and tried to sit up more straight.

"It is Peverell now." He said with as much confidence as he could. A rotting eyebrow went up.

"Is that so? Well well, I must say I'm impressed, getting a noble house for yourself, quite impressive for a half-blood like yourself. Even more impressive, your mind is protected like a fortress now. Old family magic I imagine. And more than one, impressive, impressive. Quite a heritage you got there. But I think I stick with Potter since you shouldn't forget your place."

Harry laughed, ignoring his hurting shoulder. "Like you? Born from a muggle father and a near squib mother, Tom?"

"Crucio!" A thin brown wand stuck out from the robes and Harry twisted when the feeling of molten lead rushed through his veins. He screamed in pain, twitching and twisting. It only was for a moment but it felt like an eternity and suddenly he understood how Neville's parents went mad under this spell.P Panting and gritting his teeth he sat up again against the rock.

"Don't. Say. That. Name." The rotten corpse said, staring at him. The cheery demeanour was gone now. Cold ice remained. Harry didn't respond, shaking from the aftermath of the torture spell.

Voldemort leaned to the side, propping his head onto his left arm. A maggot fell out of the empty eyesocket but he didn't seem to mind if he even noticed.

"Now, tell me, Potter, why shouldn't I just kill you and be done with it?"

Harry took a deep breath, glaring at the corpse.

"Because you can't. You have tried time and time again, but you failed. You failed two years ago in the chamber, you failed three years ago in Hogwarts and you failed when you came that night to kill my parents."

Again the corpse laughed this wet laugh that sounded like half his lunge was filled with fluid. He even clapped slightly.

"Wonderful. Just wonderful. This passion. This resistance. But quite nought, what can a mere boy do against the strongest wizard there is?"

Harry managed to smirk at the corpse while he wanted nothing more than to press his hand on his burning scar, but he controlled himself.

"I defeated you when you were on the height of your power and I was a mere baby. Now I'm older and you...well you are far from the height of your power."

Voldemort sneered, looking down at his body. "I must admit, I might be weakened at the moment, but also stronger than ever. Nothing can kill me right now. No spell, no weapon, nothing, not in this wraithlike form. I might burn out the body I have taken but soon that will change when I am reborn. But you boy you are wrong, so wrong. Do you think you have defeated me? It was your mother. That mudblood used the old blood magic of the mother's sacrifice to protect you, foolish boy. That was the magic that blocked my Killing curse and rebound it towards me, destroying my body and reducing me to a spirit. You wouldn't have had stood a chance when I came to kill you if she just had stood aside."

Harry blinked, frowning slightly. "You mean when you came to kill my parents." He said.

"Don't correct me, boy! I came for you." Voldemort yelled raising his wand threateningly.

Harry looked at him bewildered. "B...But why? Why would you hunt down a mere baby?"

Voldemort for the first time during their talk looked somewhat surprised.

"The old fool didn't tell you did he? No, he didn't. I can see it in your face. Of course not, he would want to protect your childhood, so noble, yet so foolish. He could have ended you, to secure the safety of the world, but he couldn't ,his sense of justice wouldn't allow it. No, he had the risk of you walking around and he took it. He wouldn't sacrifice you or his own sense of right or wrong, not even for his precious greater good."

The corpse leaned closer, smirking at him.

"You Harry James Potter are my Polar."

AN

Puh this was first hard to write but the dialogue between Harry and Voldemort was quite a different thing. It almost wrote itself.

So what is a polar. I will tell this in one maybe two or three chapters. It is something special but at the same time it is nothing particular. Just a cosmic coincidence so to speak. You will see.

So this is it, no prophecy. I HATE Chosen One stories. This idea that someone is said to be the chosen hero the villain tries to stop it but only sets the person onto a path by doing so. It is done so often, I can't care. So there is another reason for Voldemort's interest with Harry. Lily's sacrifice is the same as before but there are no Horcruxes. The reason Voldemort is still "alive" was said in this chapter but there was no opportunity to say it right out. So explain here. Voldemort shot the curse, the blood magic bounced it back but by doing so the spell was weakened. Like a ball is thrown against a wall. It was enough to destroy Voldemort's body, but not enough to send his soul into the afterlife, trapping him in between. He is right in what he says, while he is in this form nothing can kill him, but it isn't real life. It is a limbo state he is in weakened and dependent, two things he doesn't like at all.

Another big thing is the whole Dumbledores motivation thing in this chapter. I thought it is about time to talk about what my Dumbs is about. So you can see it in this chapter. Some make him super manipulative and evil, others make him almost saintlike. I wanted him somewhere in the middle. He has good intentions and does good things but he is also arrogant in believing he is the only true way and to an extent that goals justify everything.

What do you say to this chapter? It changes a lot from the original, I hope you like it.

Next up: Ritual