Harry tried desperately to wiggle out from under Lucius' foot, it was in vain. He shifted the best he could, turning his head slowly to where he knew Voldemort stood. His glasses had fallen halfway off his face during his fall, and Harry could see the dark silhouette standing motionless. He couldn't have been more than thirty feet away from him and the Death Eater.
Even when blurred, the Dark Lord's presence was menacing, formidable. What made the scene more unnerving was that he was still, so still. He could have been mistaken as another decoration in the Atrium, had his magic not swirled angrily in the air, making it almost heavy. Harry could taste it. It had always affected him greatly. The weight on his back was finally lifted, and Harry drew in a heaping breath.
"My Lord." Lucius bowed low, nose almost to the floor. The magic in the air stopped and began moving in the other direction, the word displeased formed in his head. Voldemort was vexed.
"Crucio." Harry flinched violently, but the spell was not for him. The Death Eater beside him dropped like a stone, his nose actually touched the floor. The screams that formed made Harry's stomach clench, and he desperately backed off. The torture spell had taken both him and Lucius off guard, Harry still wasn't sure why he wasn't being tortured instead. The blonde man's back arched off the ground, and his limbs were shaking as he screamed himself coarse. Harry knew the pain he was feeling.
It was like all your bones being shattered over and over, your skin melting, but also freezing. Your body hurt in places you didn't think could hurt. Your insides getting toyed with, hot needles stabbing through every blood cell. Harry pitied any man under that curse. He was able to turn himself around, using his arms to push himself to a sitting position, he wasn't stupid enough to think he could run in his current state. Harry fixed his glasses, and it only made the scene worse, now that it was in focus. The curse was finally lifted, and Lucius trembled. His breathing was heavy, uneven.
"Don't ever attempt to summon me in that way ever again, Lucius." Voldemort's voice rang out clearly, a quiet fury closely behind it. Red eyes jumped from one form to another. Harry had hoped Voldemort forgot about him. "Never you, dear Harry." He hated the way his name sounded on the man's nonexistent lips.
The Dark Lord took in Harry's position, and a spark of amusement passed over their link. Harry tried to send back all his hate, imagining a tube that he began stuffing full.
"So young, so full of hatred."
"At least I'm not full of shit." He bit back. Resentment replaced the amusement, and Harry cursed himself for not knowing when to shut up.
"No, instead you are filled with false hope. Lies. Weaknesses." He spoke quickly, voice hissing, his wand twitching in his white claws. "You're pathetic, Harry Potter." He finally started to move towards his target. Harry sat frozen, his tired bones refusing to move another inch. The teen could do nothing but watch helplessly as Voldemort descended upon him. Closer and closer until-
"The prophecy M'lord." Lucius's voice grumbled, ceasing the Dark Lords' prowl. Voldemort stared hard into Harry's eyes. A silent promise of pain to come.
"Where is it?" Red eyes were trained on his, but the question was not directed to him. Lucius coughed, it sounded wet.
"He smashed it," Voldemort's eyes hardened, but he still did not move. "I failed you - I'm sorry, My Lord." Harry thought the man might start weeping if he had not already been. Lucius Malfoy was surely dead, and it was because of Harry. Because of a dumb prophecy that didn't even make all that much sense.
"Ah, yet you have not failed me, my loyal follower." Voldemort's features softened for a moment, then morphed into something terrifying. A look of triumph. Harry felt goosebumps again. "The prophecy is before me, as I ordered. Isn't it Harry?" Fear licked up his spine. Shit. He knew what was coming but his eyes wouldn't close fast enough, and Voldemort dived. A hissed legilimens, and Harry folded into himself unable to fight against it. Voldemort violently ripped through his mind, show me. A flash of Bellatrix's bloody face was pulled forward, then discarded. Harry watched on in horror as Voldemort backtracked the evening's events, shredding them into pieces. Ruining him. He could feel Voldemort latch onto it all, his fingernails etching deeply into his core. His head hurt, it felt like his brain was being cut open. Another memory flashed, this time of a blue orb, shining brighter than all the others. Yessssss. Show me. He hadn't a choice in the matter. The talons reached in, grabbing the edges of the memory and wrenching it open, and he was forced to re-watch the prophecy word for word.
Delight swelled inside him, but it wasn't his.
"Oh, Harry," The world came back too soon. His eyes were on fire, his brain throbbing from the assault. He cried out and tried to soothe his aching head with his hands. Feeling for the phantom fingerprints. He felt violated. "This is precious. A power I know not?" The snake-faced man whispered. "Love holds no power in this world, Harry. It is a chemical reaction of the brain, nothing better than hate nor sadness."
"You know nothing of love. You're a monster," Harry spat, visions of Hermione and Ron involuntarily rose to the forefront of his mind. Hermione's bushy hair and brilliant smile. Ron's countless freckles splattered his whole body, his family welcoming him as if he were one of them. Sirius' barking laugh, and a hidden feeling of his mother's hug. Love was so powerful. Love was his strength.
"Don't I?" Mirth laced the man's words. "You speak as if you know me. As if you've seen into my soul as I have yours. You have not Harry Potter. Whatever you've been told of me was lies, heresy. Dumbledore claims I don't feel when I feel everything," Voldemort began walking, not closing in, but arching around Harry. The teen followed him with his eyes, afraid to move anything else.
"I was raised by my muggle father. Given everything I wanted. He read to me, held me. He told me stories of great men. He gave me the best of everything. I learned unconditional love from him." Harry was unsure of where this was all going. His stomach was in knots. "I realized that this love, this affection- was holding me back from my own greatness. So I severed it. I killed the one person who understood me. I killed my father, Harry Potter. Because he was my weakness, but no more." The man circled him further, and Harry lost sight of him momentarily.
"So you see Harry- '' Lord Voldemort's voice stated a matter of factly, "I know love. I was given it, I was bathed in it. I know the ins and outs of love. I know the boundaries, the lengths people will go for just a feel of it," The skeletal face came into view, stark against the dark blue tile of the ministry. He circled the teen, floating in his robe, seemingly ready to strike at any given moment. Harry didn't doubt that Voldemort would go for the neck. He swallowed thickly at the thought, his every movement was watched.
The cloaked figure stopped abruptly, no more than ten feet away from Harry.
"The power of love?" He cooed, almost sweetly. If not for his monstrous appearance, Voldemort might have been able to pull it off genuinely. The pale features morphed from their faux gentle, and he smiled nastily. His lip-less grin stretched across his teeth, a gateway to true evil. "I have bested love, time and time again. I have ripped it away from my own heart, it is a tangible item. So tell me, boy savior..." Harry couldn't move, he was frozen in place. He felt hopeless panic rise in his throat as Voldemort in all his dark glory approached him. Slowly, the predator who finally has come to claim its prey,
"What will you do now that your weapon of choice no longer holds its power?" He was on Harry now, green eyes to crimson. His bony hand appeared out of its sleeve, striking. Grabbing at Harry's black locks, forcing him to stare directly up into his face. Harry thought about spitting into his face, as a last attempt of disobedience. But he couldn't seem to get any part of him to work. Where was his wand when he needed it most?
"Harry," Gone was the hissing tone of parseltongue. "I'm going to show you how easily love can be conquered, manipulated, and destroyed," At that moment, Harry believed him. "I'm going to show you greatness- your own and mine. I will break you down, and build you up again," The teen found his will and began fighting against Voldemort's grip. He tried to detach the man's fingers from his locks, but the bony digits only held on tighter. He was startled when Voldemort started walking, pulling Harry along by his hair.
"Let go-" He tried to catch his footing, but his knee wouldn't allow him, buckling painfully. He reached for the Dark Lord's arm, pulling at it. He was given only temporary relief. "Get off! Let go of me-" He hissed desperately, slipping into parseltongue. His only response was a harsh tug. His jeans slid against the wooden floor, his sneakers squeaking as he kicked his good leg. He felt hysterical, he was about to start hyperventilating. He was being dragged to his death, literally.
"No Harry, you're being dragged to a new beginning," He was dropped suddenly, only to have his arm jerked roughly. Harry was gripped fiercely and then was apparated for the second time that evening.