In his attempt to stop whatever was happening, Voldemort had taken a step back, clutching at his head. The curse seemed to be affecting him still, his hissing bowls of pain echoed loudly. Harry focused on the bent-over figure of the man and realized Voldemort had dropped his wand. Harry's trembling limbs leaped into action the second he was able, with vigor he didn't realize he still had. Harry spun his body and used his good leg to propel his entire body to the floor beneath the Dark Lord. Too late had Voldemort recovered, only realizing what was happening a fraction of a second after Harry's hand grabbed hold of the fallen piece of wood. The teen felt a strange warmth, a familiarity. The wand liked him.

"DROP IT-" Was hissed threateningly, but Harry felt no fear. He ducked his head at an incoming talon and rolled on his side away from Voldemort. Harry didn't need the link to tell him that the Dark Lord was pissed. He rolled once more and pointed the wand at his prophesied enemy.

This is where they found themselves, staring hard at each other. Harry was breathing heavily, his whole body still shaking from the aftermath of the cruciatus. Voldemort's red eyes bore into green, and he held very still. He was positioned in a way that seemed as if he was taking a step toward Harry. Now frozen with what Harry knew was unparalleled rage. But not fear. The skeletal man began to move, slowly bringing in his outreached hand, and pulling his leg back towards his body. He stood at full height once more, Harry noted that he stood there quite calmly. Why wasn't he afraid?

"Why do you hesitate?" Harry's jaw dropped.

"What- I'm holding a wand to you and you're trying to goad me?" His response was Voldemort cocking his head curiously. His eyes simmered, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Kill me, Harry. Strike me down where I stand." He had the balls to lift his arms in a welcoming manner, his smile stretching. It pissed Harry off.

"Crucio!" But nothing happened, absolutely nothing. Voldemort's face split in half, a joyous grin reaching his eyes. "Petrificus Totalus!" Horror. "Incarcarous, confringo! Expulso!" His eyebrows dipped and he began to shake the wand furiously as if that would kick start the magic. "DIFFINDO! What the fuck?" The wand wasn't working, and wouldn't react to him at all. It didn't make sense. "What did you do?" He hissed, glaring at the amused Dark Lord. He continued to point the wand at his adversary, even knowing it was useless. There was nothing stopping Voldemort from coming to him, yet the man seemed content standing where he was, seemingly content to enjoy the view.

"Oh, Harry." The Dark Lord tilted his head back and laughed. It was a deep sound, mean. The type of laugh that was specifically for reveling in others' misfortune. His exposed white throat showed just how much Voldemort believed Harry to be a threat. His wand arm dropped, and he watched the man in front of him lose himself to mirth. His head snapped back quickly, and he hissed out-

"Did you truly believe that I, Lord Voldemort, would be foolish enough to bring a conduit of magic into a room with you? Harry Potter, the foil of all plans? No." He now advanced, slowly, relishing in Harry's spike of fear. "I've placed a spell on you, Harry Potter. One I have specifically designed to block magic." Cold dread washed over Harry, how had he forgotten about the spell? Voldemort had cast it on him before leaving him here alone for the first time, and Harry had stupidly forgotten. His eyes flicked down to the wand.

"I may not have my magic," The teen started, staring at Voldemort. "but I have my hands." It sounded like a threat of combat perhaps, but what he really meant was his ability to grab hold and snap. He demonstrated this by grabbing the wand with both hands and holding it slightly in front of him, intent clear. Voldemort became stony. "I'll snap it. Right in half if you get any closer. I swear it." And he did, he meant it with every fiber of his being. The wand reacted by trembling slightly as if sensing this.

"Snap my wand in half Harry, and I won't think twice about keeping your magic from you permanently." Shit.

"I'll escape, and find someone else to undo whatever you did. Dumbledore could-"

"But that's where you are wrong, dear Harry. If you'd remember correctly, I cast that spell in parseltongue, meaning the only two people on earth who could counter it are both here, in this very room. Your precious Dumbledore could do nothing." Harry didn't know if that was true. But if it was then it was game over. Voldemort clicked his tongue, "Give me my wand, and I'll not punish you for taking it."

"What about everything else?" A flicker of something behind those crimson eyes.

"How very... perceptive of you." Another cock of his head, and a contemplative look. "I give you my word that I will not punish you for the events that have transpired this evening." Harry couldn't believe him, he just couldn't. Voldemort's word? How much was that really worth? "Shall I countdown from three, Harry?"

"Wait-" Harry leveled his gaze. "I want something else too." He had to at least try.

"Is my mercy not enough?"

"I want you to heal my knee." It didn't take even a second for Voldemort to think it over.

"Acceptable." Squinting his eyes, Harry dropped his hands, the wand now residing in his lap. The Dark Lord held his own hand out expectantly but made no effort to move from his own spot. The bastard wanted Harry to come to him.

"Are you serious?" A slight raise of a non-existent eyebrow was his answer. Harry huffed, he couldn't believe he was bargaining with the Devil. Not willing to crawl, Harry instead used his arms and one good leg to crab-walk to the bloody Dark Lord. It was made even more difficult due to the fact that the robes he had on could fit two of him inside it with room to spare. He should have just thrown the wand at him.

He approached the man and stopped only about a foot away. This was the first time he had willingly been this close to Voldemort. He looked from his face, down to his extended hand, and reached up. Careful not to make any skin-on-skin contact, he struggled to place it in the hand that was too bloody far away. Luckily for him, Voldemort had seemed to think his effort was good enough because he reached down, meeting Harry halfway, and took the stick. True to his word, Voldemort did not point it at Harry. Instead, he rolled it between his fingers, then it was back up into the man's sleeve.

"My knee-"

"Will get healed. I wasn't planning on letting you crawl around like a wounded dog for long." Harry's eyebrows furrowed. Why had he put his wand away then? "You have zero talent when it comes to subtly." It was hard to gauge Voldemort's tone without the hints from the link.

"I wasn't really trying to be subtle to be completely honest."

"Your knee will be seen to tomorrow." Voldemort then stepped over Harry, his robe sliding over Harry's head and causing his hair to become statically charged.

"But-"

"Tomorrow." The Dark Lord then opened the door and walked out. The door closed behind him with a soft click. Harry stared after him, his eyes flickering to the doorknob. He hadn't seen any spell or incantation used, could it really be so easy? Voldemort had warned him against trying to leave, but his whole being was telling him to go. What if it had been a bluff? What if Harry could have left at any point? Curiosity, if nothing, got the better of him, and he decided to crab-walk to the door. He sat up straight once getting to the wooden slab and leaned his shoulder on it. Reaching up, Harry grabbed a hold of the ornate handle. At once he felt a jolt of electricity run down his arm and into his body. It didn't hurt badly, not like the torture curse, but it made his body jump and all nerves reacted at the same time. He lost all control and essentially flopped. It didn't let up right away and he convulsed on the floor, it felt like tiny sparks were under his skin. He swore it danced on his tongue, bouncing tooth to tooth. He laid there until the last of the shock left him through his toes.

It was like a bloody shock collar for a dog.

"Are you seriously shitting me right now?" He asked aloud, knowing that Voldemort wasn't going to hear his question. Harry laid there for a bit, looking up at the white ceiling. It was plaster with bumps and grooves, he could make out small shapes and it was like when you'd watch the clouds and point out animals.

He suddenly felt very small, homesick. He wanted to go outside, to feel the breeze on his skin. Allow the sun to soak into him, darkening his skin as it did every summer while he gardened for his aunt. Merlin, he missed gardening. The soil on his hands stuck, getting trapped underneath his short fingernails. It always smelt so good, the earthy tones made Harry feel alive. Real. It was a chore that he didn't mind doing at all. Even mowing the lawn was great, nothing smells better than freshly cut grass. He wouldn't mind Herbology either if the plants didn't try to eat him. Regular old flowers were just fine, thank you very much.

Looking over to the lone window, Harry realized it must have been very late. He wasn't sure about how long his excursion took, nor his bath. He was exceptionally tired, his whole body was sore. The idea of sleeping was desirable, the idea of sleeping in the actual bed was even more so. The teen sluggishly sat up, and ever so slowly half crawled towards the queen-sized bed. It looked so inviting, so soft. Reaching up, Harry pulled on the thick duvet using it as leverage to lift himself over the edge of the mattress. He struggled to heave the rest of his body, and wiggled side to side, slinking in. The bed was indeed excessively soft, so much nicer than his bed at the Dursley's. He didn't want to have to move to pull the blanket from underneath himself, so he flipped the edge from one of the sides. It barely covered him, but the robes were enough to stop him from feeling chilled. Harry succumbed to his fatigue seconds after closing his eyes.

Unknown to Harry's sleeping form, not three rooms over, the Dark Lord had been completely destroying his study. Only after leaving the room had he allowed himself to express his temper. The only power Harry truly had was that he seemed to always make things go sideways. Forget love, infuriating luck was Harry's strength. The boy needn't even wield it actively. There was to be a change of plans, considering Harry was able to use the link when he shouldn't have even the faintest chance. To have the ability to turn Voldemort's curse on himself, through the link, was not even a possibility in the Dark Lord's eyes. Yet it had happened.

A small oversight perhaps on his part, thinking Harry's completely vulnerable without his own magic. No, their link created a bridge that allowed Harry to use his magic. It had to have been the Horcrux that resided in the boy, the one that had latched onto his soul. Harry Potter was an enigma, something never to have been done before. Never had there been a recorded living Horcrux. Nagini was a living container, but she was almost under complete control of Voldemort. The Horcrux lived in her, whereas the Horcrux in Harry had fused with him. The boy was his soul, as small as the piece had been.

Lord Voldemort trashed his study in frustration. He had thrown destructive spell after spell at the poor furniture. His chair was splintered badly, and the desk was cracked nearly in two. Any papers that had been resting on it, were laid on the floor, half incinerated. He'd only stopped himself when a familiar voice hissed to his right.

"Master smells of distress." Nagini slithered into the room, fearless. The small fires burning on the carpet did not deter her. Voldemort cast quickly to extinguish them. Her large body bypassed any office shrapnel, tanking through it. She reached her destination and began to circle her Master.

"I apologize if I startled you," He hissed to her quietly, crouching down to offer himself. Nagini took to his arm and climbed. "Some… things have occurred. Unexpectedly. I do not take lightly to diversions." The snake coiled around his wide shoulders.

"Not startled, only hungry." Petting her head gently, Voldemort huffed out a pleased sigh.

"You are always hungry, Nagini." She was a simple creature, smarter than most snakes, yet still restricted by her most natural instincts. She was Voldemort's companion, his closest. He refused to call her a friend, as that implied too much of an attachment. Lord Voldemort did not have friends. He had followers and minions. Had Nagini been a person, she most definitely would have been killed. Or that's what Voldemort would tell himself. He couldn't allow for there to be weaknesses. Yet he held a type of fondness for her, that he didn't have to admit to anyone but himself. No one else could understand their talks, Nagini could not tell anyone of the fears he presented to her. Nor how he would obey her commands to pet her for hours, or listen to her when she told him to eat. It was different now that Potter was here because he would be able to talk to her.

He had yet to tell Nagini of Harry's arrival but knew she suspected something with the way her forked tongue scented his robes.

"I want a rabbit." That was all she said, and Voldemort couldn't help but give in to her simple demands. He placed a charm to lighten her weight and took leave. He would fix his office later, for now, he was going to take his companion outside so she could chase her prey freely. Tomorrow, he would heal the brat's knee and set up new ground rules.

Lord Voldemort would come out on top.

Notes:

Harry's secret power is the ability to fucked up all of Voldemort's plans.

Hope you're all doing awesome, and staying safe.