Harry had ended up staying in the study with Voldemort for the rest of the evening. Dinner arrived and they ate in peace. They hadn't spoken much after the piano talk, the Dark Lord had worked on his world domination plans, or his very long tacky romance novel. Harry had grabbed a random book off the smaller shelf along one of the walls. Voldemort hadn't said anything, so he assumed it was alright.
The book hadn't been the most interesting, and contained a few too many graphic photos of dismemberment than Harry would have liked. He could confidently say he now knew what human intestines looked like when they were taken out of a live person. This wasn't something he was proud of. After the fake sun in the window began to set, Harry chose to put the book back and head to his room. He felt much too awkward to bid goodbye to the Dark Lord, so he just left quietly.
Nagini was laying on his bed still, in a different position. She didn't react to Harry, and he assumed she was asleep. It was hard to tell sometimes because her eyes were always open. Even when she blinked, it wasn't really blinking. It was a clear membrane that fluttered over her eyes, and it twitched when she refocused on something. Harry remembered reading somewhere that they never really closed their eyes.
He stripped himself of his robe, dropping it onto the floor before crawling onto the bed. He tried to be gentle, to not jostle Nagini. The sheets and blanket weren't wet any longer, thankfully, so Harry shimmied his way underneath them. He took his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand.
Nagini shifted, moving around in the dark slowly. The sound of rustling sheets quieted soon after. Her cool scales found their way against his skin, he reached his arm out, and the snake curled towards his body. Her neck rested over his outstretched arm, offering a comforting weight. With his free arm, the teen pet the other horcrux briefly. She let out a quiet hiss, and Harry turned more on his side, moving closer to the snake. Her scales were cool, but the feeling he got in her presence felt nice. A strange completeness resting in his core, like he was where he needed to be. Harry moved as close to the snake as possible, both now entwined with each other.
Harry's last thoughts before falling asleep, was that he'd never tell a soul about how he spooned and cuddled with a deadly snake.
Harry Potter was back in his cupboard.
It was dark, and he felt a web brush up against his cheekbone. He had many nightmares about it, this black place, but this time it felt different. He was aware that he was dreaming and not actually a child in the cupboard under the stairs. He was still in his bed wrapped up with Nagini, his brain knew this.
He couldn't feel her however, even when he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on his body. It was a queer sensation, knowing one was dreaming yet being unable to do anything about it.
"Okay… this is… not the worst." He said into the dark void. His voice was that of his child self, pubescent. It was strange to hear it, and even more odd to feel it come from his own throat. "I'm just..." there was a word for this, but Harry couldn't think of it. Where one could control their dreams, or when they were aware they were dreaming. He was sure that word started with a P, or maybe an R… a lot of good words begin with the letter R. He felt it on the tip of his tongue, but before he could figure it out there was a quiet shuffling noise somewhere out in front of him, the teen immediately felt eyes on him.
"Lucid dreaming, Harry." Came the familiar drawl. Voldemort was in his cupboard.
"What are you doing in my dream?" The teen asked, narrowing his eyes in the direction of the smaller door. He was trying to figure out where the man was exactly. The cupboard was pretty small, so he had to be close.
"Not much of a dream, Harry." The Dark Lord responded dryly. Harry felt himself flush, he was glad it was too dark to see.
"You didn't answer my question." Harry bit back defensively. Was it weird to be embarrassed about dreams? Harry thought so. You could dream of flying, maybe places you've never been before, or impossible things. Yet here he was, dreaming about the small room he had been locked in as a child.
"Ah." Was all the man said in response. Harry waited for more, but Voldemort stayed quiet, seemingly content to stay silent. Harry glared into the darkness, folding his arms. The link fluttered open, and Harry could tell the man was laughing at him. Harry scowled, sinking further into the shitty mattress beneath his small body.
"What the hell is so funny?" He bit out, becoming agitated quickly. The room was quiet, and Voldemort was contemplating. How hard was it to answer a simple question?
"You." Came the delayed response. This took Harry off guard, he tightened his crossed arms, practically hugging himself.
"What about me?" He asked simply, his frown deepening when the link vibrated.
"You look absolutely ridiculous sitting there, wearing your childhood face."
"I do not!" He shouted back indignantly, sounding very much like a child.
He wasn't all that goofy looking as a child, at least not that he could remember. Other than that time his aunt shaved all his head but left his fringe. Harry reached up to double check that he still had all his hair. Fortunately he had a full head, as messy as it was.
"How can you see me?" He asked, hugging his knees. He was near the far corner, and could feel the wooden panels digging into his spine. "It's pitch black in here." He grumbled. The link buzzed, and Harry could tell the man was absolutely loving this.
"Is it?" Was all that was said. Harry groaned loudly, uncrossing his arms and sticking his hands into his hair. He scratched at the nest, making the curls spring around wildly before dragging his hands down his face. He latched onto his checks and grabbed in frustration.
"You're actually evil." He accused, as if that already wasn't a well-known fact. Before a retort could be made, somewhere above Harry came the sound of a slamming door. A loud stomp above his head caused him to flinch violently, digging his nails into his own flesh accidentally. Fear was all he felt, gone was the frustration. In a fraction of a second Harry forgot he wasn't really back at Privet Drive. "No." He whispered, drawing his knees back up to his chest. He shuffled away from where he knew the door to be, backing himself into the corner. There was another large sound, followed by more. Someone was coming down the stairs. By the intensity of the steps, Harry knew it was his uncle.
His heart pounded loudly in his chest as his stomach filled with stone. With every step that was taken he could feel panic rise with equal force. His body started to shake, bile rising in his throat. He knew if he puked it would all be stomach acid. Harry couldn't remember the last time he was allowed to eat.
He started having trouble breathing. He couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs, and started to continuously gulp in breaths. It was painful. Harry grasped at his chest, pulling on his nightshirt. His head felt far too light, but he couldn't stop inhaling. He wasn't able to exhale to complete his breath, and his lungs just kept filling. At this rate they would fill completely and pop like a balloon.
The door locks jangled, and Harry violently threw his small body to the floor of the cupboard, hoping that if he got in between the wall and the small space beside the bed that his uncle wouldn't be able to reach him. He misjudged the distance however, and fell straight down, his arm not catching on anything, and the side of his head hit the wall with a hard thud.
He opened his eyes, and it was too bright. He was back in his room, and had fallen off the bed. The sheets had wrapped around his legs, and he was still hyperventilating.
"Harry?" Came a frightened hiss from above him. He couldn't respond however, his whole body was in flight mode, yet he couldn't move. "Harry!" The hissing was louder this time, closer to his ear. He felt Nagini's nose bump against his exposed shoulder. He curled away from her, into a fetal position. He had stopped inhaling, but now it was as if he was frozen. His throat constricting and heart hammering at his rib cage. The oxygen stuck somewhere between his lungs and the back of his tongue.
He scratched at his bare chest, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. He was sure his vision would be blacking out if he was able to keep his eyes open.
"Harry." Came the hissing again, but this time it was deeper, calmer. Harry tried to curl further in on himself, but a cold hand found its way to his chest, and another on his back. There was pressure applied to both areas, a hand pushing against his own on his chest, and the other between his shoulder blades. "Breath out," was directed, and Harry wanted to shake his head. Because it wouldn't work, it just wouldn't. Yet when more pressure was added to his upper body he felt the air try to escape. "Breath out, Harry."
The teen then exhaled loudly, feeling an incredible release of pressure from inside of him. Harry exhaled until he was sure that his lungs had nothing left. The hands on his body released him slightly, and he knew he was supposed to breathe in again.
"Breath in with your nose, slowly." Voldemort instructed, and Harry tried his best to follow the orders. He was able to breath in, and exhaled through his mouth. The hand on his back was continuous applying pressure, and he tried to focus on the thumb pressing into just below his left shoulder blade. When he inhaled fully he could almost feel the nail starting to dig into his skin. The hand was cold, yet it warmed his skin where it made contact.
This continued for another couple minutes, until Harry felt like he wasn't going to puke or pass out. His breathing was back within a normal range. Opening his eyes, he could see that it was bright in the room. Without his glasses it was blurry, but he could tell it was light from the window. It must have been morning then. Closing his eyes again, the teen laid there quietly. The hands on his body started to pull away, and he couldn't stop a whine from leaving his throat. The Dark Lord's hands hesitated slightly, pulling away entirely after a long moment.
The room was quiet for a while, and Harry wasn't sure how long he laid there. He didn't even know if Voldemort had left or not. All he knew was that he was covered in sweat, and getting colder every second he stayed on the floor as it chilled against his exposed flesh. Harry opened his eyes again, and shifted, moving to sit up slowly. He felt shaky, but was much more stable than before. He felt exhausted, his legs were jelly.
"Your body is trying to recover from its sudden release of adrenaline." The Dark Lord offered from his left. Harry was too fatigued to be startled.
"I don't feel good." He admitted quietly, sitting up fully and leaning against the bedside. He felt like he had just run a marathon.
"The post-rush drop of blood sugar will do that." Came matter-of-factly, as if this was something Voldemort was an expert on. He probably was, with all his books about human anatomy. "You will need to eat something."
"I will definitely vomit if I eat." Harry sighed out while he flexed his fingers. He really wanted this internal shaking to go away.
"Then drink." The Dark Lord commanded as an extremely cold, and wet object touched his shoulder. Looking over to his left he could tell that there was a glass of orange juice up against him. Raising his blurry vision, he glanced to the black figure standing close by. Voldemort was hovering closely, looking down at him. Without his glasses he couldn't tell what the man's facial expression was, and the link was suspiciously quiet.
Reaching for the glass, Harry carefully and slowly brought the cup to his mouth. He had to use both hands, not trusting the strength of just one. The first sip was hard, but it was so, so delicious. He sipped on the juice, and could see Voldemort move towards the desk out of his peripheral. The Dark Lord sat down, turning the chair so that it mostly faced his direction. The teen could tell the man wanted to say something, else he would have left. Dropping the glass from his mouth, he held it against his leg and looked over to the snake face.
"What?" He asked and Voldemort wasted no time in asking his question
"Who was coming down the stairs, Harry?" Ah… so the man couldn't contain his curiosity?
"No one." Harry said dismissively, his jaw clenched unwillingly.
"Clearly it was someone you fear. Someone even more than I." The Dark Lord pushed. Harry couldn't tell if the man was just curious, or jealous that someone else could push him to having a panic attack.
"It was just a dream." He retaliated, but the man wasn't giving up.
"That may be, but the panic was real. You forget that I feel what you feel, Harry." Voldemort leaned forward in his chair, "I know you." he stated and Harry refused to look back over in that direction. He did not want to talk about this, he wanted to forget. Forgetting is easier. He decided not to respond, instead sipping his juice again. The quiet hung in the air, and it became increasingly awkward with every passing second. The Dark Lord leaned back into his chair, and drummed his long fingers on the desk. The red eyes stared at him as he drank, and the fingers only stopped when he finished the glass. "Why do you eat like you've been starved, Harry?"
The teens hands gripped tightly against the cup, his knuckles turning white. He was always self conscious about his eating, he didn't want to talk about it. Talking made it real, he didn't want it to be real. It was easier to pretend. Swallowing hard, Harry cleared his throat.
"Maybe I'm pretending to be a vicious beast, consuming my prey before it can even think to fight back."
"If I believed you then I would say you've been spending too much time with Nagini." The staring continued, and Harry nervously tapped his fingers against the glass of the cup. "You were gaunt as a child." He prodded, and Harry felt sick in his stomach again. He didn't want Voldemort to know, but the man already knew. He was intelligent, quick at connecting dots and getting to the conclusion before anyone else. He could easily rip it from Harry's mind if he wanted as well, but he didn't need to, because he already knew. Harry stared at the last remnants of the orange juice in the bottom of the glass, some pieces of pulp sticking to the edges. The words bubbled out of him as he stroked the smooth surface. There was no point in hiding it. Voldemort wasn't going to leave him alone.
"I had to learn to eat fast, because my uncle might have decided to take it away." He admitted. "The faster I ate, the more likely I'd get to eat it all." Shame pooled in his gut, and he immediately regretted saying anything at all. His fingers began tapping the glass again.
"You were mistreated then."
"...I guess?" He muttered while staring at the floor.
"You grew up with family, correct?" This was another piece of information that Harry knew that the Dark Lord was already aware of.
"I wouldn't really go as far as calling them that, but yes." The teen nodded slowly.
"Muggles?" The Dark Lord asked, nodding as if this confirmed his suspicions. Harry felt his body go rigid, he wasn't in the mood to be lectured.
"Yes." He hissed through clenched teeth. "I see where you're going with this. You aren't going to be able to convince me that all muggles are bad just because of them. Just because I got saddled with shitty ones who abused me, doesn't mean that all muggles are like that." He fumed, Hermione's parents were amazing people. Not to mention, he heard so many great stories from his mates about their parents.
"Abused." Was the simple response. Harry turned his head and narrowed his eyes.
"What?"
"You used the word abused." Voldemort observed, and Harry opened and closed his mouth. Did he say that? His tongue felt heavy and went dry, he wished he had more juice. That was the first time he'd said it out loud like that. Voldemort crossed his legs, and sat back. "What else did they do to you, Harry?" Without the link Harry couldn't feel what the man was feeling, nor could he even see his facial expression. He hated that he couldn't figure out the man's objective. Was he enjoying this?
"I'm not going to feed into your sick little fantasy," he spat. He was done with this conversation, he didn't want to talk about this anymore. Especially not with the man who was responsible for him being in their care in the first place. Harry slammed the glass cup down on the floor and stood. He was still light headed, and he could feel himself sway a little. Harry ignore his body and forced himself to start walking. He was still just his pants, but he was far too angry at this moment to care. The Dark Lord uncrossed his legs as Harry passed him.
"On the contrary, I am not enjoying this conversation." The man stated, standing up now. Harry ignored him and grabbed for the robe he had discarded last night. He scoffed loudly before maneuvering it over his head. "Abuse of magical children inside of the muggle world is an extremely important topic," Harry paused just in the doorway. "I am currently in the midst of developing a system which will eradicate the mistreatment of underage wizards."
The Dark Lord was standing directly behind him, Harry could feel it. He turned around, and had to crane his neck to look up at the white face.
"What are you going to do?" He asked suspiciously, rubbing the sleeve of the robe between his fingers. It was slowly becoming a nervous tick. The Dark Lord tilted his head slightly, and a movement to Harry's left made him flinch as Voldemort's wand righted itself. The wooden piece flicked, and the robes on Harry's frame shrunk. It felt odd to be in clothes that fit. Harry refused to thank the man.
"We will be removing magical children from the muggle world altogether-"
"You're just going to kidnap them?" He asked, his voice rising. "Are you actually that insane?!" Harry took a few steps back, wanting to create space between them while he stared at the other in disgust.
"Only the muggle born children will be removed completely." The man said, as if that made it any better. It made Harry think of Hermione growing up without her parents. "The muggle parent of half blooded children will have the option to integrate into our community, or forfeit their involvement completely." The Dark Lord commented as if he was talking about something trivial, like the weather.
"No one should be taken from their parents." Harry said slowly, glaring at the dark wizard. How could anyone think of just taking someone's kids away because they themselves weren't magical? It was wrong. So, so wrong.
"You wouldn't have been abused at the hands of your family had this exact system been put into place years ago." Harry saw red.
"Don't you dare. I wouldn't have been there in the first place if you hadn't killed my parents!" Harry choked out, he sounded absolutely pathetic to his own ears. The teen turned to his right and walked as fast as he could down the hall, needing to get away. He had to leave, to get out. The Dark Lord followed him, his long legs carrying him easily. Frustration and irritation bled through their bond, strongly entwined into the two was confusion.
"Harry-"
"Fuck off." He cried out while wiping away the tears that threatened to form. His vision was skewed enough as it is without him crying. "Just leave me alone."
"If you'd cease being so emotional and listened to what I have to say, then you would understand why this course of action-"
"Your course of action is shit." Harry spat. He decided on going to the small library, then he'd have books to throw at Voldemort, maybe they would bite him too. He crossed the threshold into the room and tried to slam the door shut, but Voldemort was not only stronger, he also had magic. The door refused to close, and whatever impact it may have had was stopped by a casual wave of a hand. The door flew back open wide, and Harry backed away. Voldemort however didn't seem angry, and instead walked at Harry. He continued to back up until he stumbled onto one of the chairs, almost toppling over the arm of it.
"Muggles cannot be trusted."
"Says you."
"Says history," The Dark Lord countered as Harry scrambled to place the chair between the two of them. "Salem witch trials."
"That was so long ago, people have changed."
"Have they?" The older wizard questioned. He had stopped moving towards Harry, giving him a sense of security behind his chair.
"We- we have the statute of secrecy."
"Which isn't in any way sustainable. Especially since wizards have mingled so thoroughly with muggles. What do you think will happen should wizardfolk be found out, Harry?" The teen hesitated.
"We could learn to get along. To live side by side."
"Do you truly think muggles would accept us? When they have wars that raged against their own simply because of religious means?"
"It's- things are different now." Harry tried, but he wasn't the most up to date on muggle current affairs.
"The Rwandan genocide in 1994." Voldemort offered, and held a hand up when Harry went to reply. "The 1993 World Trade Center bombing followed by the Oklahoma City bombing, both terrorist acts within the United States of America fueled by the hate between the west and east." Harry felt his mouth go dry, he hadn't known about either of those. "There is an ongoing Burundian civil war, in which children are being used as soldiers, a country torn in on itself. Need I continue?" Harry looked down at the chair. "A large majority of muggles can't accept their own because they have different skin colors, or because of who they love. Could you look me in the eyes and tell me truthfully that you think they would accept us should we come out of hiding? Would they truly not rage war against us, if not out of prejudice, then out of fear?" It was a hard question, one that Harry couldn't answer.
"I- I don't know." Harry admitted quietly.
"This is the only way." Harry finally looked back up, there had to be something else.
"But-"
"Muggles and Wizards are not equal, Harry. We know this, and they would know it. They've shown what they do to those they deem dangerous." Voldemort's voice lowered. "I had seen the damage done during the Blitz, I saw the decimated version of London in the aftermath. The chaos, the bombings, the fear. Were you aware that muggle born students during that time were not given asylum at Hogwarts? They were sent back home, even during the active bombing threats." Harry hadn't been aware.
"That's-they just.. sent them back?" Voldemort nodded.
"There are special precautions that stop our communities from being affected by the weapons, yet there are none for those outside the community. Wizards who choose to live in the muggle world are unprotected. Wizards who are born into the muggle world don't often have a choice until they are of age. By then they are often more likely to choose the muggle world, as that is where their families reside,"
"So you see, Harry. I am not advocating to remove children simply because I dislike muggles, I am trying to keep the children and our people safe."
"Where would they go?" Harry whispered. "The children? You wouldn't just throw them all into an orphanage… Right?"
"Believe it or not, Harry. I have a long list of wizards who have all offered their own homes. Children thrive best with stability, where they can get the proper amount of attention to grow. A wizard orphanage was never on the table, and it never will be." Harry had to admit to himself that the thought comforted him, as there were rarely happy stories about orphanages. His aunt and uncle often threatened to leave him at one should he misbehave, and that always terrified him. Voldemort waved his hand casually, and Harry could tell he had cast a tempus. "I'm taking my leave, you will eat breakfast or I'll lock you into your room again," was stated before the man apparated.
Harry stood only for a couple more seconds before taking a seat in the chair he had been using as a shield. He badly wanted to have hope that things weren't as Voldemort said, but he knew in his heart that the world wasn't ready. If the wizarding community couldn't safely choose to come out of hiding, then it happening accidentally would be disastrous. Voldemort was right, and Harry hated him for it. Harry hated himself for agreeing to any part of it.
The teen rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palms.
"Harry?" Came a quiet hiss from the entrance of the room.
"Hello." He replied, looking over to the dark green body. Nagini slithered in cautiously.
"You are fine yes?" She inquired, coming closer to him. The snake rounded the chair and nudged his leg. He bent down slightly to run his fingers along her head, she took this as an invitation to start climbing up his leg and sit on his lap. He sat still, allowing her to wrap around his shoulder. She was heavier than she looked.
"Depends on if you're asking about my mental state or physical state." He murmured, trying to remove his arm from its prison. His right arm was currently trapped between Nagini and his own body.
"Let's have a shower." She hissed, and Harry couldn't help but snort.
"You're impossible." He declared, a small smile appearing on his face. As annoying and bossy as she could be, he couldn't seem to deny her. Especially not when he needed a distraction. "Okay, but I'm showering first. You have to wait until I get out."
"No." She hissed back smartly.
This caused Harry to laugh because he somehow knew she was going to say that.