Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter.

Acceptance - CH 1

Pain.

That was all he could think about.

Pain

All he could feel.

Pain

All he could hear, taste, touch, see.

Pain

Never ending.

His screams that had previously echoed across the cavernous room, had long since ceased as his strained vocal chords broke and bled within his throat. Now despite his body's effort, no sound escaped. If he survived this it was unlikely he'd ever speak again…if he survived.

The curse ended, and Harry lay gasping for breath, begging for relief or death, he wasn't sure which. His entire being burned as if on fire, movement was a near impossibility, even thinking was beyond him at the moment.

This momentary pause in his torture was like all those that preceded it. Tom, reveling in Harry's despair and agony grinned completely assured of his victory and control as he allowed Harry this respite.

This pain free moment was not to be enjoyed though. It was tainted by the knowledge that the pain would return. As it had previously. Over and over the curse had been applied. Having lost track of time long ago, he had no way of knowing how long he'd been down in the chamber.

He'd come down here with Ron and Lockhart to rescue Ginny, but things had gone wrong almost immediately. After Lockhart's blundering with Ron's broken wand caused the tunnel to cave in separating them, Harry continued on alone into the Chamber. Despite battling and killing the basilisk, then having his wound healed by Fawkes; he found himself outmatched against the specter of Tom Riddle.

He remembered raising his wand against him only have it battered away like one would shoo a fly. He tried his fists next, only to find himself bound and falling to the ground. The broken nose that followed was but the first of the pain Tom intended for him. Then Fawkes had tried to come to his rescue only to be blasted out of the air.

Since then it had been nothing but torture, interspersed with Tom's gloating. Whatever curse Tom was using rendered him immobile as his body felt consumed by flames while every bone felt like it was breaking.

Recovering slightly, his breath now coming out in ragged if even gasps he was finally starting to become aware of his body and surroundings. He lay on his side against the hard stone, legs and arms splayed out. He was sweating profusely, but seemed to be mostly whole. His head was still quite foggy, but slowly clearing allowing him to open his eyes and focus his vision enough to look around. What he saw did not improve his position.

Tom was standing a few feet away from him. His body relaxed with an unpleasant grin and eyes alight Tom appeared a man perfectly content.

"Finally coming back to me Harry." Tom grinned. "I was afraid that you were gone for good there." His compassionate tone contrasted with the smirk now firmly fixed on his face.

Harry held his gaze for a moment before casting his eyes around the room, desperately looking for help.

His wand was too far away. Lying on the ground halfway across the chamber a few feet from the dead Basilisk the sword still sticking out of its mouth.

Fawkes lay unconscious on the far side of the chamber where Tom had knocked him. Harry could see the gentle rise and fall of its tiny chest.

Ron was probably still out in the tunnel, though without a working wand he could do nothing. Plus Harry saw that the chamber doors were firmly closed, no doubt Tom's doing.

Eventually his gaze fell to Ginny lying in the center of the chamber some distance away. Her body lay still and motionless. He gazed at her a moment trying to find a hint of movement, some sign that he was wrong and that she was alright. Pleading with his pain fogged mind that she was still alive.

Following his gaze Tom's voice was soft, yet filled with something akin to amusement. "She is gone Harry. She served her purpose perfectly. First as an informant, then a host, and finally as a conduit for my resurrection", he paused briefly before continuing in an amused tone of voice, "She cared for you. Did you know that? The great Harry Potter, she obsessed over you."

Unable to look at her still form anymore, Harry looked back to Tom. The older teen was still gazing at the young girl. There was no compassion there, though no joy either. Just a look of consideration, as if he were trying to figure out if she was still useful to him.

Returning his eyes to Harry Tom continued, "Even more than that, putting her in danger managed to lure you here. Unexpected, but a pleasant surprise nonetheless". The smile returned to his face once again. "While I hadn't expected an audience, your eventual destruction was planned, and would only have been a matter of time."

Harry held his gaze as he frantically thought. With each passing moment his mind cleared more. His breathing evened out. Running through all he knew again; his only viable option was to get his wand. Without that wand he could do nothing except die.

As if sensing his very thoughts Tom raised his wand and smirked. Uttering a single word, "Crucio" and Harry's world erupted in pain once more.

…

Sometime later he awoke in a haze of pain and confusion. Eyes open, but unseeing they stared off into the distance unfocused as his mind swirled in a confused state. Staring at the vaulted ceiling of the chamber it was a while before he was aware of anything beyond the stones far above his head.

As the haze began to clear once more he started to take note of his surroundings. The stone floor was cold and rough beneath his back. The flickering light from the torches around the room cast an odd and uneven glow. Shadows shifted and flitted in the enchanted torch light as if dancing, mocking and delighting in his pain. His vision swam for a minute as echoes of pain ran through him rendering him helpless as various muscles twitched.

As the pain subsided, he focused on his breathing, just about the only thing he could control at the moment. Once it leveled off, he tried to regain his thoughts. He needed something, anything to distract him from the memories of pain. Though try as he might he couldn't remember anything.

Opening his eyes once more, he focused on the ceiling again hoping for answers, but found none. Eventually, he mustered up enough strength to turn his head and look around the room. The effort involved was immense, but was a welcome distraction.

Taking in what he could see of the chamber, he couldn't tell if anything had changed or not. His memories from before seemed so far away, so distant. What he could see only further confused him. A large bird like creature lay on the floor bound in tight ropes. Its red plumage disheveled and messy. 'What would a bird be doing down in a cave?'

His confusion only grew as his eyes fell on a small figure some distance away. The girl, he thought, had long bright red hair. 'An odd place to take a nap' he began, until something about the girl seemed to pull at his mind. 'Do I know her…?'

Pain! Erupting through his body once more, his eyes clenched shut as he tried to scream. Body rigid, he lay still and silent as his mind was assaulted.

The episode ended a few moments later, but the experience left him breathless. As soon as he was able, he forced his eyes open and tried to refocus. A glance around showed the bird and the girl in the same spots. Something about her still pulled on his confused mind, but unable to recall he continued to assess the room.

There was very little left to see. It was a large chamber with stone walls, floor and ceiling. Torches hung in sconces on the wall providing light. There seemed to be some statues along the walls at intervals. The statues, Harry noted, were vaguely serpentine, but not any snake he'd ever seen before. Other than that there was nothing else to see from his position. He'd need to turn his head to the other side to see more, an action that almost felt beyond him.

Gathering his energy, and steeling his nerves, he began turning his head. He scarcely managed to get his head around when he locked up as his body was assaulted once more.

Slowly recovering, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. This view was more of the same, lots of stone, and some statues. At the far end of the room, he could make out a large dark shape. Though he couldn't tell what it was, it was reminiscent to a snake except it was too large, far too large. Even stranger it seemed to have something like a sword sticking out of its mouth. Perhaps it ate a knight, amour and all, he randomly thought.

Mentally shaking his head to clear the random thought, he dismissed the idea that it was a real snake. After all, even the huge snake he accidently set on Dudley at the zoo wasn't that big.

Deciding to leave the mystery of the large shape behind him, he swept his gaze back across the rest of the room. Seeing nothing, he was about to give up and close his eyes to rest, when he saw something out of place. There along the wall, quite still and shrouded in shadow, was a boy. Older, but still obviously a student given his Hogwarts robes, though Harry couldn't make out the color of the trim in the poor light.

The older teen stood lounging against the wall in relative shadow. His relaxed pose gave off the impression of a man at ease. He seemed to consider Harry for a moment, before straightening and taking a single step into the weak torchlight. All the sudden, pain erupted through Harry once more, this time instead of originating from his tortured body, it came from his mind as his memories returned. With the return of his memories, came the realization of his impending fate.

…

Voldemort grinned to himself as he saw Harry stir on the floor. The Potter boy had passed out after the 10th round with the curse, rather impressive for the twelve year old. He'd been randomly convulsing on the floor with the aftereffects of the curse for some time now, but upon waking his conscious mind finally took notice. This actually increased the amount of pain and torture as the mind was more aware and amplifying the pain, a small fact that caused him to briefly smile.

He regretted that their time was nearly up, but though his new body was now fully formed and stable, his magical reserves already depleted from his resurrection were further drained torturing the boy leaving him on the edge of being magically exhausted. Something that would correct itself in time as of course, but a mere annoyance at the moment. He'd been forced to take things slow, and under power the curse so as to not truly exhaust himself.

He was taking a risk of course, torturing the boy here in the chamber. Dumbledore may not have been in the castle last night when he directed the girl down to the chamber, however, her disappearance would surely summon him eventually. Doubly so given the fact that his familiar was lying unconscious and bound on the stone floor. Glancing over at the bird he confirmed it was still restrained. He'd also used a specialized binding spell to prevent the bird from flaming out, though he wasn't completely sure if it would work. So he took the time to re-stun the overgrown turkey every so often as a backup.

Shifting his gaze back to the boy, he considered how perhaps his magical limitation may have worked in his favor today. The relatively weak Crucio's he'd been holding the Potter boy under were low powered enough that they didn't break his mind. True, the pain he felt was immense, but ultimately the boy's sanity would be preserved though the damage he caused himself in the process could not be so easily repaired – if he'd allow him to live.

Nearly cackling at his own joke, Voldemort forced himself to remain quiet and still as the boy attempted to turn his head around. Upon succeeding, Voldemort was unsurprised to see the confusion on the boy's face. Victims of extended Cruciatus exposure often exhibited such confusion, sometimes lasting moments or hours. If the curse had been applied too long and damaged the mind this confusion would never lift.

As Voldemort continued to observe the boy, he allowed himself to remember the other times he'd done the same thing in this very room. It had been part of his method of controlling Slytherin while he'd been a student. Any opposition to his dominance was unacceptable, and dealt with harshly. Under the cover of night, he'd kidnap and bring his victim down to the chamber. After a night filled with screams and pain, they never opposed him again. He'd been careful, oh so careful not to take things too far. After all, temporary pain can be ignored or written off, but permanent damage would be noticed.

Outside the school however, he did not exercise the same restraint. His own father had felt the full force of his rage when he'd finally tracked the man down. Bound and forced to watch as Voldemort tortured and killed his own grandparents, Tom Sr. was then subjected to the curse himself. Voldemort kept going all night long, only stopping as morning approached. With just a hint of golden sun on the horizon, he gazed down at his father, mind broken and unaware. Disgusted with the image he killed the man that had abandoned him and his mother before leaving that home forever.

Voldemort shook the memories off as he saw the boy finally notice him in the shadows. 'Time to end this nuisance' he thought as he took a single step out of the shadows.

…

Memories rushed through his mind at a rapid pace. Coming down the pipes with that pompous git Lockhart, the tunnel collapse, battling the Basilisk, Fawkes trying to protect him, now tied up, Ron trapped in the tunnel with no protection, and Ginny. Ginny…lying dead just behind him. Through it all, he saw the teen in front of him smiling. Voldemort…Tom…whatever he was called. This was all his doing.

"Finally awake I see," Voldemort's voice came out like a hiss. Soft and silky. "I am impressed. You lasted quite a while before succumbing. It's a shame that we don't have longer to play. I would enjoy testing your limits." He seemed genuinely disappointed.

"Anyway, I suppose all good things must come to an end. It is nearly morning and I must be off. I have a country to dominate after all. Therefore, I'm afraid that our time is now up". Grinning, Voldemort began walking towards Harry. Wand held loosely by his side.

Cold fear spread through Harry's body as Voldemort stalked closer. Panic ripped through him once again as he considered his fate.

Stopping a few feet away Tom gazed at Harry, a crazed grin cutting across his face.

Seized by a sudden desire to do something, Harry began the monumental effort of rising to his feet. He would like to say that he sat right up and starred defiantly into Voldemort's eyes. That he faced his death with no fear. Instead in his panic, his movements were jerky and sloppy. He succeeded in rolling over to his stomach by twisting his shoulder and forcing stiff muscles to follow. Using herculean effort, he managed to get both arms under him and pushed himself up to his knees. Shaking slightly and out of breath he found himself starring right at Voldemort as he slowly inched his way to his feet.

Voldemort for his part stood waiting for Harry to rise. In no rush himself, he found himself slightly impressed at the child. Despite hours of torture, he managed to rise to his feet, and though he could see the fear and panic in the boy's face he did not run, did not cower, did not submit. 'Perhaps there was a valid reason for my older self's fear' he mused.

Shaking off these thoughts, he centered his focus on his magic. Though he had plenty of experience using the Cruciatus curse, he'd only used the killing curse a handful of times. This coupled with his new body's low magical reserves he needed this focus in order to cast properly. And in this moment, he didn't want to make any mistakes. This here was something that his smarter, wiser, and more powerful older self, had failed to do. He, however, would not falter.

Seeing the boy ready himself, Voldemort raised his wand and centered the tip to his chest. Taking a breath he called upon his magic. As always he felt it right there beneath the surface ready and willing to be set loose. Like boiling water wanting to leap from the pot, his magic yearned to escape. Taking that raw energy, he shaped it to his will, forced it into the pattern he desired, and directed it down his arm and into his borrowed wand.

He could feel the magic responding to his commands, shaping itself to his desires. The feeling never ceased to exhilarate him whenever he felt it. Pouring more and more magic into the spell, more than it might actually need, he continued to build it up. Finally reaching a tipping point he stopped the flow.

Savoring this moment, his mouth began to form words that he almost didn't need, "Avada Kedavra".

There at the point of the wand a green glow formed into the shape of a small ball of light. It sat motionless for a heartbeat before accelerating away from the wand point towards the boy at an alarming pace.

Streaking towards its target, the boy stood still starring ahead. For a moment Voldemort thought that he had given up and would simply let the spell hit him. Then the boy moved, and he lost sight as the spell exploded in-between them!

…

Harry stood facing Voldemort trembling in pain and fear. His body ached, his mind was at best fuzzy, his vision was distorted, but he wouldn't back down. Staring at Voldemort, he watched as he raised his wand. A look of concentration descended on his face wiping off the smirk he'd been wearing. He saw the light pool at the tip of his wand…Ginny's wand. For a brief moment anger overwhelmed him that this monster was using her wand.

The anger dissipated quickly though. He was too tired and ached too much for anger. His vision swam for a moment as a new wave of pain swept over him. His trembling increased, and he nearly lost his balance and toppled over. His vision returned just as Voldemort started the incantation.

'Focus,' he mentally berated himself. This was it; this was his only chance. He needed to time this just right if he were to have any chance of surviving. Starring intently at Voldemort, Harry saw the spell taking form. The green orb pulsing with energy, wanting to be released. From this distance he could practically feel the energy himself. He knew the moment Voldemort released the spell he'd only have about 2 seconds, maybe three to react.

His first plan was to simply dodge but given the state of his body at the moment he'd only get one successful dodge before his muscles failed him. In the end that would only buy him a few additional seconds. No, he needed something that would provide him more time, time enough to cover the distance to his wand.

This was it, he could feel the spells release a moment before it came, and was already moving before it was more than an arm's length away from Voldemort. Twisting his body to give his arm more momentum, he threw a small stone, about the size of a snitch luckily found as he lay on the ground. This was his great gamble, his only hope of survival, everything rested on his ability to throw a rock. He should be laughing.

Despite wanting to know if this was going to work or not, he needed to keep moving. Using the momentum from the throw, he continued to turn his body until he was facing behind himself and looking directly at his wand lying on the ground. Taking his first lumbering step was near agony, but he clenched his teeth and took the second just as an explosion erupted behind him.

The force of the stone and spell colliding sounded behind him. The intense magic of the spell bolstered by the added magic Voldemort provided met the lifeless stone and exploded. Harry's ears rang with the sound as the concussive force of the explosion threw him forward and back to the ground. Using the fall and momentum to his advantage he forced his body into an awkward forward roll and continued his desperate if clumsy race to his wand.

Eyes never leaving his target he was 6 paces away when he sensed danger. Twisting his body instinctually a curse flew over his shoulder. He wasn't sure, but the color suggested it was body bind curse.

4 paces away, his breath was labored and his body ached.

2 paces his vision was tunneling. His protesting muscles felt heavy and strained.

1 pace. He started to crouch down to grab his wand when he was blasted from behind. The intense heat and pain suggested a blasting curse. A remote part of his brain not screaming out in agony thought about the damage caused to his back.

The force of the explosion lifted him off of his feet and launched him clear over his wand and tumbling to the ground on the far side. He came to a rest against the slimy hide of the dead basilisk.

Despite the pain, despite the agony, all he could think was that he failed. His final attempt of resistance had failed, and all that was left was death. He raised his head and saw Voldemort. He was breathing heavy, his body was tense, and his eyes had changed. What had once been dark brown orbs, were now tinted red. However, more than that, his face was contorted in fury. Voldemort stood motionless for another moment before straightening and beginning to stalk forward. Each step he seemed to radiate more and more power inducing even more dread in Harry.

His last chance was lost, and he knew it. His death was now only moments away. If he could've screamed he would have.

…

Voldemort for his part was furious. This boy dared to stand against him, dared to defy him in this manner. This mediocre child, with barely any ability or power thought to challenge him. Such defiance enraged him, it always had. He worked hard to control such emotions, but now was rapidly losing the fight.

The moment the killing curse had exploded, he fired off a binding curse aiming blindly hoping to catch the boy. His aim was slightly off center, making it easier for the boy to dodge. Losing his patience, he let lose a blasting curse pouring his rage into the spell. The blasting curse he launched should have obliterated the boy into pieces, however, his depleted core couldn't quite manage such a feat. As the boy tumbled across the ground he breathed heavily from the exertion.

As he regained his breath he began stalking up to the boy. His rage grew with each step. It was time to end this. No more chances, no more words, no more mercy. The boy had to die. He halted right at the boy's feet and leveled his wand and shouted, "AVADA KEDAVRA"!

The spell erupted from the wand and struck the boy at almost the same instance. The flash of green light bathed the entire room in its glow.

…

Harry felt the spell connect with his chest, felt its oily presence penetrate his body, felt immense pain as it tore through him. Though his eyes were shut tight he could see the spell reaching toward his core, its sickly green attacking the bright gold of his magic, his life, his essence. Though every fiber of his being wanted to fight, to survive, the power of the spell was not to be denied. There was no defense he could raise as it moved unimpeded toward him.

As he observed the spell inch closer and closer to his core, as if in slow motion, his mind seemed to be moving at lightning speed. He thought of his mother's protection, her final sacrifice that had saved him just last year. He remembered how Quirrell couldn't hold him with his spells, how his very touch harmed the man. He thought of Dumbledore's explanation that this protection worked against Voldemort and spared his life from the Killing Curse once before.

Why was that power not protecting him now? Why save him then, but not now?

He looked around frantically trying to find some hint that her protection was coming, was rallying its defense, or perhaps it was already attacking Voldemort?

Nothing. He saw nothing.

The curse was nearly there. No longer inches away, but rather just barely touching the outer layers of his core. Already parts of his core were blackened and fading. Though time seemed to be slowed for the moment it wouldn't be long before his entire core was destroyed. When that happened he knew he'd be gone.

Panic filled him. His mother's protection wasn't coming, outside help wasn't coming, his own magic was fighting but losing; what more did he have?

That's when he felt it, a growing pressure. Painful, but nothing compared to what he'd been through earlier. With each passing moment the pressure increased. Rather than coming from his chest, it was coming from his head, from his scar. Now escalating into a burning sensation, he felt a sense of anticipation. Something was stirring within his head, within his scar. With no other options he focused on it, willing something to happen.

Almost as if waiting for his permission his head exploded as the pressure burst forth. He watched in horrified fascination as a black mass of wispy energy surged towards his core. Reaching it in an instance, it surrounded his core protecting it against the curses killing touch. Swirling around his core with flashes of gold shining through, the mass seemed to focus its attention on the incoming spell.

Continuing it inexorable pace forward the curse collided into the center of the black mass and seemed to explode. The black mass shrieked out and ruptured. Pieces flew outwards in all directions. The curse was overwhelmed in the debris before being ejected out of his body, returning to its source.

Voldemort didn't even have time to blink, to breathe, to register his demise when his own curse blasted into him. He'd never know that he failed, nor how. He'd never know that the boy was protected by a force more powerful, more resourceful, and more intelligent than either of them.

Voldemort crashed to the ground dead. His final look of rage frozen on his face. His new body barely hours old useless, and as the magic flowing through its veins bled away, it would slowly melt into wisps of magic and dust.

Harry sat on the ground with his back against the Basilisk. He didn't know that Voldemort was dead, that he had survived, these thoughts were beyond him. His mind was at war. The successful ejection of the curse was a welcome joy, but was quickly replaced with a new battle. For a brief moment he observed the fragments of the black mass drift around his core. The smallest pieces seemed to be dissipating into nothingness. The largest however continued to drift about.

Without thinking about it, he mentally reached out to one of these pieces. He didn't imagine he could actually touch it, but curiosity drove him forward. The instant he connected with the fragment his mind exploded with images, sights, sounds, smells, emotions. Each playing over top of each other. As one faded more would appear.

He saw a blonde haired older boy and standing over him with his fist raised to strike him.

The boy was replaced by the grass covered hill on a bright sunny day.

Then the Hogwarts library late at night. The candles on the walls burned low and dim.

Then in the chamber he was in now a young boy cowering on the floor at his feet in obvious pain.

Then he was standing on a rocky outcropping with a towering mountain to his left, and a low deep valley in front of him. Homes and farms nestled within the trees.

Then he was inside at the head of a long table. Despite the dim lighting he could see a multitude of faces starring at him.

On and on the images came. Some lingered long enough for him to catch a few details, more though just flashed through his mind's eye. Faster and faster the images came, none now pausing long enough for him to catch any details.

Images spinning around him he saw two pinpricks of light. Very dim at first, they grew larger and more prominent. Choosing to focus on them instead of the nausea inducing images he saw as the two points grew larger and gained definition. What he had first thought were just two dots, were now large orbs, not quite round, and a mixture of red and white.

Larger and larger they grew until he realized what they were…eyes. Violent red eyes stared at him, Voldemort's eyes. His consciousness reeled back as the realization hit him. Voldemort was here inside him. The terror he'd felt through the previous night was swallowed whole by this revelation. Mentally screaming his horror he finally succumbed to darkness, unable to fight any more.

Author's Note: I began this story back in 2020 when I was quarantining and I intend this to be a multi chapter story. There will be an eventual pairing, but that won't emerge for some time yet. I have the first 5 chapters basically complete, and expect to have them posted in the next month or two as I finish editing them.