Sorry this took so long; this was very hard to write for a number of reasons. I hope you enjoy!

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Harry's head snapped up shocked, gazing wide-eyed at the crazy witch. He was being challenged to a duel? His eyes shifted towards Voldemort's, meeting the crimson gaze. The dark lord stared back at him thoughtfully, his mask giving away nothing of how he felt about the challenge.

Harry swallowed, knowing he was no match against Voldemort's most sadistic follower. She had dedicated her life to learning the dark arts, was renowned for her creativity in her torture. Harry was barely succeeding with passing most of his classes. To even call it a competition would be laughable.

"Come now little boy, are you afraid? You weren't afraid when I killed your mutt. Or maybe you've finally learned to fear your betters?" Harry flinched as the vicious words washed over him, images of his beloved godfather falling into the veil swam before his eyes, clouding his vision of the present. The hatred he'd felt when he'd cast crucio on her for taking away his only hope of escaping the Dursely's and being with someone who loved him for himself washed over him anew. A hollowness filled him as he stared at the woman who had taken almost as much from him as Voldemort.

"You are not my better," Harry snarled, fist tightening. "You're lower than dirt. You deserve nothing better than a dementors kiss." He glared balefully up at the black-clad witch, if looks could kill, she would be six feet under.

A cackle filled the air. "All bark, just like that pathetic excuse of a cousin was," Bellatrix mocked, her eyes widening in insane delight as she stared down at him from her seat. "He got what he deserved. Come wittle Potter, let me teach why your beloved dogfather was a fool to stand against us. Let me show you why I am the Dark Lord's most faithful servant! You're not fit to even grovel at his feet, but maybe you can learn. Let aunt Bella teach you a thing or two. Poor little boy, no one in the world to care for you. No one to even care when I make you scream."

Heart pounding in his chest, Harry's grip on his wand tightened. How he longed to teach her a lesson, to shut her mouth, make her understand what a bloody stain on the world she was. But he was just a teenager with barely any training. The fates were cruel forcing this upon him.

Voldemort leaned back in his seat, a thin smile forming on otherwise aloof features. Harry knew what the man wanted before he opened his mouth. He had known Harry would never be able to sit still and accept a meal with the witch that killed his family. And with dread, Harry realized he had played directly into the Dark Lord's hands. "Wizarding etiquette would dictate you accept or bring shame upon your household," he cocked his head, giving Harry an amused glance, as if daring him to do anything besides what the predicable Gryffindor would be required to accept. Harry wasn't sure exactly what shame would befall the house of Potter that was greater than him taking a mark from Voldemort, but he knew that was beside the point. The shame of not fighting would be unbearable even if he was all but certain as to the outcome.

He glanced from the Slytherin heir to the psychopathic witch, forcing himself to hold both of their gazes boldly. He had never been a coward; he would not start now even if he fallen directly into the dark wizard's trap. Inhaling deeply, Harry straightened his shoulder, mentally preparing himself for what he was certain was about to become his own personal torture session. He forced himself to try and remain calm. He had survived Voldemort in the cemetery, he could hold his own here if he was smart. Bellatrix was proud and overconfident, he just needed to find an opening.

Voldemort must have taken his resolved stance as consent. "You may not kill each other. No unforgivable either," he drawled as an afterthought, his eyes glittering. "Perhaps if you do something to impress me Harry, I will reward you."

Bella let out a shrill giggle, pushing her chair back with a screech and jumping to her feet in senseless delight. She was a cat playing with a mouse, restrained enough to not want to kill it and lose its entertainment, but Harry was under no illusion that she did not intend to torture him as much as possible. "You ready to play little-ittle Potter? Auntie will teach you some manners. Maybe if you ask nicely, I'll even teach you some tricks!"

He glanced once more at the red stared fixed firmly upon him. He could feel the nervous energy of the table as they stared between him and the witch in anticipation. Gripping his wand tensely, Harry pushed his own chair back and stood up, forcing his legs to obey him and not tremble.

He followed the witch to the larger opening. With a sweep of Voldemort's wand, the table, food, and all accouterments vanished. It would have been an impressive display of non-verbal magic if Harry wasn't aware of how much greater feats the wizard was capable of. The simple display made Harry feel even smaller, more out of his league as he took his place across from the murderess. This was all just sick entertainment. He was in a snake's den, the other occupants staring at them in rapt attention. This was all just for the Dark Lord's amusement, bloodshed and torture because he wanted it to happen.

Voldemort and his minions stood to the side, Harry could feel the dark lord's gaze locked on himself, watching, calculating every move. And Harry somehow knew that while the dark lord enjoyed this, it was more than just allowing his demented Death Eater some fun. This was a test. And this was meant to put Harry in his place, let him know he was not safe here. Or perhaps worse, show him that he needed what the dark lord could teach in order to survive in this new world he was sworn to live within.

Resigned, Harry shifted his right foot back, taking up a stance that would let him duck and dodge if needed but left him loose and agile to begin casting. He wish Hogwarts had spent more time on actual duals and actual defensive. He found himself once again struck by how strange it was that Dumbledore had done nothing to actually prepare for this violent war that he was somehow in the center of.

"Bow," Voldemort demanded, reminiscent of that fateful night in the cemetery.

Harry stared down the atrium. Bellatrix stood on the other end, her wand loosely twirling in her fingers. Her tongue darted out, licking her bloodred lips in what he could only assume was a seductive manner. It disgusted him. He wanted to wipe her proud smirk straight off her gaunt face.

He raised his own wand, forcing himself to loosen his grip as he ducked his head minutely, unwilling to defy Voldemort in this and risk the wizard humiliating him like he had in the cemetery when he was forced to bow against his own will. This was different, he wasn't a stunned kid who'd just been kidnapped. Perhaps he had a chance here.

Bellatrix was strong, but she did not know him or his style. He had speed and knew a few tricks from the tri-wizards tournament that were above a sixth's year curriculum, that gave him an element of surprise. She expected nothing greater than a fifth year's repertoire. He had been preparing for this exact thing when training the DA, he could do this. And, he thought morbidly, Voldemort would not let him die, not like this. The dark lord had not finished playing with his newest toy yet.

Bellatrix dipper her head even less than he had, then without waiting, struck faster than a snake.

"Congfrigo!" he dived to the side, barely avoiding the blasting curse that shot through the spot he'd been a moment ago. The wall behind him collapsed upon itself, dust and rubble flying everywhere.

"Reducto!" He cried, trying to delay her next attack as he pushed himself back up to his feet. Keep moving, he thought, sidestepping to the right, force her to pivot or be circled.

She let out a shrill laugh, easily blocking the spell. "Awe, is baby just going to play with school hexes? That's not much fun. I need to teach you something a bit more exciting!" Cackling, she wordless shot an acid green hex his way.

He'd never seen the wand movement or the color before. Not knowing what it was, he couldn't risk a shield and have it blast straight threw and hit him. He dove to the ground again, rolling into a crouch as her shrieks of laughter followed him.

'Rictusempra,' he thought, sending the tickling charm nonverbally, it was a simple enough spell that he knew he didn't need to say it out loud. "I'll give you something to laugh about," he muttered, as she dissolved into mirthless giggles, not expecting the non-verbal. Her eyes lit up in rage and embarrassed having been hit by a childish prank.

She cancelled it, another acid green hex shooting out of her wand which he sidestepped. She was quick, but his superior quidditch reflexes were allowing him to keep pace. Frowning, she swiped her wand right then left. Two ruby spells cascaded towards him, another curse he did not recognize. And the quick succession of the two made it where he knew he couldn't dodge both.

"Protego!" He shouted, a silver, transparent wall shot up before him as the beam of ruby red light neared him. It smashed into his wall, knocking him a step back. It held the curse at bay, but immediately dissolved, not being able to withstand anything more. A bead of sweat dropped from his brow. She was powerful and fast. And he knew she had mastered more spells than him. He would need to do something quick if he didn't want to be immediately defeated.

With a wave of her wand mist shot out, enveloping them, he could not hear or see anything. A thickness surrounded all of his senses. If he hadn't seen the smoke like quality erupt from her wand, he might have been concerned that he was the only one affected, but he suspected she was equally blind. Crouching down, he listened intently, trying to hear anything.

His heart beat once then twice. A laugh rose up into the air. It didn't come from the direction he'd seen her in last. What was she playing at? He racked his brand trying to come up with anything that would banish the fog, allow him to see, but his mind came up blank.

"Peek a boo!" He spun as a bright light, lightening-like struck down around him, webs of electricity shooting between the mist. It struck him straight on, excruciating pain coursing through him. Being electrocuted was exactly as painful as he imagined. He dropped to the floor, coughing frantically as it stopped after just a few seconds.

The fog was beginning to dissipate as he pushed himself shakily to his knees. Burt flesh assaulted his nose, the hairs of his arms standing up straight. Another flash of light was his only warning. He throw himself to the side, barely missing another batch of the electrical curse.

"I thought you would want to avenge your mutt," Bellatrix ridiculed, her figure appear within the vapor. "This is pathetic. You're not even worth the pitiful sacrifice he gave to try and keep you safe."

The words cut deep, straight to his core as Harry returned unsteadily to his feet. Her words felt true, this was pathetic and he had no clue how to gain the upper hand.

With a wave of her wand, fiery arrows conjured into thin air, shooting straight at him. Sizzling in the air, the long bands of fire rained down upon him.

"Aqua Eructo!" He shouted. A jet of water sprayed from his wand with a force that surprised even him. Hermione had thought the elemental spell useful during the Triwizard tournament. Much stronger than aguamenti, she thought the charm would help against care of magical creatures when Hagrid had made them care for the blast-ended skewers which kept catching everything they touched on fire. It was a powerful blast of water, which immediately hissed the fire arrows out of life, steam wafting him in their wake. He shifted the blast of water towards her, doubting it would work but not having an immediate attack ready.

She flicked her wrist, a silver clear shield materializing before her and easily blocking the blast of water which tapered to a stop as he lowered his wand.

"You'll need to try harder than that!" With a cackle, her eyes darted to one of the two large marble vases which stood handsomely at the entrance to the atrium. Another flick of her wrist and both were sailing at towards him at inhuman speed. Ducking the first one, Harry gasped out "Arresto momentum!" slowing the second enough that he barely got out of the way before both smashed where he'd been standing.

Heart pounding he glanced back to see a dark ugly brown bolt light speeding towards him. Surrounded by crushed vase debrief, he didn't have time to duck or spring forward a shield. She was too fast, and the brown curse struck him. Harry hissed in pain, glaring down at his red soaked arm, blood spreading quickly from the deep cut. She raised her wand again, sending another bolt of ugly brown which he managed to avoid by throwing himself painfully to the ground. She was only speeding up, he needed to act fast.

"Serpensortia," he would never forget the spell that had been used against him in his second year that had turned the entire school against him. Bellatrix's eyes widen at the giant black kingsnake that shot out of his wand, coiling on the marble floor with an angry hiss.

"Attack her," he hissed, then immediately whispered a "diffindo" sending the severing charm at her with as much power as he could force behind it.

The snake hissed, rearing its head angry, distracting Bellatrix enough that the severing charm struck her calf, a squirt of red spattering to the floor. Banishing the snake, the witch screamed. "Oh, very good! So, you can play," she cackled, reaching down and wiping her finger against the cut. She lifted the red tinged appendix to her lips, licking the blood off, a crazy light entering her eyes. "Then let's play," she whispered.

"Ascendio!" Harry was levitated three or four feet into the air and thrown bodily onto the ground. Shards of vase cut his palms and back, the pain sharp as he pushed himself up on one arm, staring fearfully up as the witch strode towards him.

A new intensity had entered her, her anger tangible as blood dripped down the side of her leg over her black boots. "Furnunculus," she hissed, the curse striking Harry on his shoulder, huge angry boils erupted in pain. He cried out in pain.

"Expelliarmus," Harry cast desperately, his shoulder thriving in pain, boils discharging in painful burst over his entire left arm.

Bellatrix easily blocked the disarming spell, making it the last few steps to where he weakly pushed himself up from his back. He stared up at the wand pointed directly in his face. His whole body was frozen as he stared from the tip of it, up at the incensed witch. "Awe poor baby, can't even avenged your dead dog father? How does it feel to lose everything? Your parents? Your godfather? Even your freedom?" A flick of her wand and he was disarmed, his holly wood careening uselessly from his fists.

Harry could feel his power literally boiling inside of him, such was his anger. It was like when he had wanted to hurt his aunt Marjorie, but so much more potent. And all of it was directed towards Bellatrix. He knew he could not harm Voldemort yet, the Dark Lord was to powerful and suspicious of him. But he could hurt her and this might be his only chance.

She was close enough that he could reach her. Lashing out, he smashed his boot into her leg, driving it straight into her kneecap. He knew his magic was ready, at his beck and call. He pushed it through his outstretched limb, willing the foot to damage her, wanting nothing more than to cause her as much pain as possible.

The foot kicked with agonizing accuracy; he could feel the crack of her kneecap with the connection. Dropping down to one knee, the Lestrange howled in agony.

"How dare you!" Bellatrix screamed. "You'll pay for that one, you little brat!"

Harry started back in horror as she whipped her wand back up at him. He brought his unarmed hand up in defense, already cringing, not having the energy or control to cast another wandless attack.

"Crucio!"

He knew nothing but pain. Staggering, coursing pain ripping through every nerve in his body. While Voldemort's torture was worse, this was still excruciating. Burning and twisting, his body turning on itself in agonizing protest. It was unbearable. A scream escaped his lips as his body spasmed, flinching and twisting on the cold floor.

"Enough!"

Blissfully the palpitating agony ceased, he laid there panting on the floor. Everything hurt. There was a ringing in his ears, a pulsing in his flesh. Curling deeper into a ball he fought to keep his tears and sobs at bay. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing his body wrecked.

"Enough." Repeated the command. It came out more as a hiss than English, the dark lord's anger palpable.

Resigned, Harry glanced up. Was Voldemort angry that he lost? Had Harry proven himself to be a weaker apprentice than the Dark Lord had anticipated?

"You disobeyed me."

Crimson red eyes stared deeply into emerald green. Silently, Voldemort summoned Harry's discarded wand and handed it to the Gryffindor teen who took it shakily. Everything hurt, his nerves were on fire. Spasms ripped through his entire body and he tried to get it under control. Harry was at a loss to what the Dark Lord meant. He hadn't broken any of Voldemort's supposed rules of impromptu rage induced dinner duel. It had been the murderess psychopath who cast the unforgivable against him. If Voldemort was displeased Harry had used his limited control of funneling wandless wielding against his irrational follower then Harry would remain unapologetic. That had been fair game and completely in self-defense.

"I didn't…" he stammered to a stop when the piercing stare increased, the Slytherin heir giving him the slightest shake of his head. Silence enveloped the room. Harry took advantage of the small reprieve to get his breathing under control, gripping his returned wand tightly. He'd clearly lost, Bellatrix had held him under her curse for several long moments before Voldemort intervened. It was clear who had been more knowledgeable, fast and stronger.

But Harry had known it was unlikely he'd win. He thought he'd held up decently considering everything. He'd even surprised her and gotten in a few good hits with his use of parseltongue and wandless wielding. He was quickly realizing how mastering wandless wielding would be a great benefit. He knew of no other witches or wizards besides Dumbledore and Voldemort who routinely flaunted the skill. If he could gain control over it to where it wasn't just a power that manifested when he was particularly emotionally, then he suspected he would be able to take many would be assailants by surprise in future duels. If he lived that long.

"Bellatrix, you disobeyed." The Dark Lord did not turn, his gaze unwavering on Harry's shivering form. The words sounded disappointed, displeased. "I told you no unforgivable."

"My lord," Bellatrix murmured, crestfallen. "He antagonized me, I was only putting him in his place. It was for you my lord, that he knows where he belongs under you. That he is nothing but a silly toy for you to use as you will! I only sought to protect you, my lord."

The silence following her statement screamed. "And you think I need you to fight my battles? That I can't handle Harry myself, that he doesn't belong to me?" Voldemort paused, his voice becoming colder. "You think Harry besting you in your foolish arrogance reflects on me? No Bella, he got the better of you when you became arrogant and you responded in fury."

"My lord," she stuttered. "My only goal is to serve you. The boy..." She stopped, swallowing. Her cowed form glancing from her master's back to Harry's huddled form. "The boy does not respect you or appreciate the amazing offer you have given him. He does not deserve your attention, to be at your side."

"You think you know what is best for me?" The warning note was clear. Bellatrix flinched.

"I live only to serve you, my lord," she whispered. "I only want for your rule to be secure. To be surrounded by those who deserve to be allowed in your presence."

She was insane, utterly insane and obsessive. Harry could hardly believe such a raw power would be stooped cowering before this cruel wizard, her only goal to worship the feet that would as soon kick her while she was down.

"You disappoint me, Bella," Voldemort said cruelly, glancing back to Harry. "You disobeyed and for that you will be punished."

"My Lord-"

"Silence!" The Slytherin heir turned back to Harry, eyes sweeping over him appraisingly.

"You may crucio her."

Harry jerked up. "What?" He gasped, his voice still coming out in pants.

"I said, you may crucio her."

Harry shook his head, beyond confused. Where was this coming from? While he hadn't disobeyed, it was clear he'd been out powered. He thought he put up a decent fight but he was loath to admit that Bellatrix was faster and stronger than him. "I won't torture for you," he murmured. It came out quietly, he was awfully aware that all eyes in the room were on him. Only moments ago he wanted nothing but to torture her, to make her pay. But now, like this. It didn't feel right.

He did not like the Dark Lord's twitch of his lips; the smile was callous, uncaring. "This isn't for me Harry, it's for you." The simple statement echoed in his ears. The image of Sirius falling behind the veil in disbelief, shock etched on his features the last image Harry would ever see. Bellatrix cackling as he died.

Harry swallowed. He hated her. He hated what she had done to him, his family. She'd taken Sirius. She deserved to be tortured. Deep down he knew it was what he wanted. To make her pay. But he couldn't.

He shook his head again. It was a jerky gesture, his body still cringing in pain from his own brief torture.

"No," it was barely a whisper, but he knew Voldemort heard. Red orbs drew in consideration, Voldemort's wand flicked through his fingers quickly. A confident and smooth gesture. Harry wondered if he would be tortured again for refusing, but he had not disobeyed anything he was required to do. His agreement with the Dark Lord absolved him from having to torture which he prayed would hold true.

Voldemort glanced up. "Lucius, take her to the dungeons. She will remain there until I decide what to do with her. She's to receive no special considerations while there, treat her like any other prisoner."

"My lord, please! I am your most loyal servant. I do everything only for you. Please my lord, forgive me!" Her cry echoed around the chamber, its shrillness hurting Harry's ears. He gazed down at the broken woman who was sobbing at Voldemort's boots.

"Take her, now."

Lucius strode forward, wand out. "Bella, come," he commanded softly. "Our lord has spoken."

"Please, my lord! I beg of you, it was only for you!"

"I tire of this," Voldemort hissed, flicking his wand. Silently Bella was hit with an unknown curse. She fell forward, convulsing. Her face had gone deadly white as her wand dropped from her quivering hand.

Lucius stepped forward, ropes shooting out from his own wand as he bound her and levitated her a foot off the floor. "Draco, come." He ordered. Harry glanced at the pale youth. The other teen looked sick as he stared at his aunt's convulsing form. With a jerky stepped, he moved forward hurriedly coming to his father's side. With a quick bow by both of them to Voldemort, the two blonds left the chamber, a Bellatrix still jerking and quivering in a silent torture was hovered after them.

"Leave us, Grayback. I will deal with my apprentice alone." The wolf quickly slinked past them, slipping out the same door which shut tightly. Leaving Harry and Voldemort alone.

Red orbs studied Harry silently as the teen fought to get his last shaking muscles under composure and slowly pushed himself back to his feet. He wasn't sure what type of mode Voldemort was in, if he too was about to be punished for the results of the duel.

"You look confused Harry, ask." Harry swallowed, not surprised he was that transparent.

"Why did you decide unforgivable could not be used?" The question had been bugging him. He knew Voldemort would not let him be killed, but the other two spells seemed like fair game. He'd already used the torture curse on Harry multiple times and Harry could resist the imperius, so there was no threat of that backfiring during the ill-fated duel. Unless Voldemort wanted to reserve the pleasure of the cruel torture for himself alone, he did not understand having that restriction. And he had wanted Harry to cast the torture curse after the duel, further confusing the teen.

Voldemort gave him a thoughtful glance. "Bellatrix sometimes has discernment issues." He stated it so simply that Harry almost wondered if they were talking about the same witch. Discernment issues seemed like the understatement of the century. "The restriction was for her, to see if she could demonstrate restraint. Her zealousness is unparallel and Azkaban stole the very little reason she'd managed to maintain while fighting the Black madness in her youth." He paused, eyes roaming up and down Harry. "As much as I was assessing your dueling skills, and you performed better than I anticipated, I was also testing her as well. To see if I can trust her when I place upon her restrictions which go against her nature."

"She failed your test," Harry almost did not want to probe further. He hated her; she deserved the dementor's kiss. And yet, the clenching of his gut confused him. He wanted nothing more than justice for his godfather, but a very small part of him squirmed at the idea that Voldemort may now kill her for such a failure. She was a demented woman, mostly so because of Voldemort and what he'd asked her to do during his first rising. Was it right that the man who made her into the insanity that she was, punish her for becoming what he had created?

"She did."

Harry shifting under the assessing gaze, staring down at his boots. He clinched and uncliched his wand, feeling deeply uncomfortable.

"Ask."

"What will you do with her?" He should be pleased she had failed, that Voldemort was punishing her. But it made the reality of his situation all the more real. There were all just puppets, their strings being pulled by this master manipulator, hopeless to do anything but react and pray they did not anger the Slytherin heir. Bellatrix deserved punishment, but he knew Voldemort's twisted justice was not what he wished upon her. That he too was always only moments aware from displeasing the man and being dragged away to the dungeons to rot.

"What do you think I should do with her? She disobeyed me. And she did it by striking against you. She knows better than to disobey me, especially where you and I are concerned. I have made that very clear to my followers that you are mine."

The possessiveness did nothing to soothe his fraught nerves. He doubted now was a good time for any emotional speeches of how he did not belong to the Dark Lord. The ghost of the mark on his forearm twitched, furthering his awareness of how juvenile the claim may now actually be.

"She's a murderer, she killed her own blood," Harry said at last, the silence becoming uncomfortable. Could he say it, that she deserved to die? Would his words have any influence over the Dark Lord's actions? Did he want them to?

"Blood that would just as quickly have done the same to her," Voldemort reasoned.

Harry swallowed. It wasn't the same. Sirius and Bellatrix were not remotely comparable. One fought for the Order of the Phoenix, to protect innocents. Bellatrix fought for sadistic pleasure and to help Voldemort enslave the wizarding population. "They are not the same," he murmured.

"Both have chosen sides based on their beliefs. They both chose to fight for a way of life which is under attack. Bellatrix fights for her own freedom, to practice magic that suits her. To reach powers she knows she is capable of instead of being blocked, intentionally held back so that others feel more powerful, safer. The light would see her be a sheep. They would control her, weaken her powers because they fear what they can't reach. Yet have no qualms accessing light powers that the dark could never harness. "

The matter of fact way Voldemort stated it struck a nerve with Harry. It wasn't some impassioned speech, it seemed to simply be the Dark Lord's worldview.

"No." Harry shook his head, knowing he was entering into another confusing conversation, that with every word he was at risk of Voldemort clouding his senses even more, twisting his words and driving a further wedge of doubt between himself and the light. He wished he had more confidence in Dumbledore, in those who he had always just blindly followed and agreed with. He wished he had more confidence in himself and his own convictions. "One side seeks to protect, another to control or kill." A hand appeared under his chin, drawing an embarrassing flinch as his eyes were brought back up to meet the appraising scarlet.

"The world is not nearly so black and white, my young apprentice." Harry wasn't so sure. Perhaps the Order did use lethal force, Sirius would have tried to kill his cousin before allowing himself to be killed, but the side of the light hadn't started this. They did not introduce such deadly tactics. That was all Voldemort and his dark horde. Meeting the dark lord's stare, Harry doubted that any explanation Voldemort was about to provide on morals would leave him feeling better.

He knew they were no longer talking about Bellatrix and Sirius, that somehow the conversation was directed deeper, was suddenly more personal than the Black family rivalry or even Bellatrix's insanity. This was about Voldemort's position, why he fought, and what he expected Harry to now join. "Just because you are kept blindly unaware of the atrocities of the light, does not mean they are as righteous as you would believe."

Even if Dumbledore had kept things from him, he knew they were not torturing the dark. They did not commit the same crimes that Voldemort and his followers did. "The Death Eaters feed on terror. You attack innocents, killing them in their homes if they don't join you. You use unforgivable and torture to force unwilling witches and wizards to join your side or be killed." He shook his head, glancing at his sleeve, the hidden mark concealed beneath the black folds. "Even this mark." He closed his eyes briefly, pained that such a thing now stained his flesh, stained his soul even. "You've forced a magical leash on me. To control me… being here isn't my choice. I've never seen the light resort to such tactics. If they're so similar then why don't they have to force people to fight for their side?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. A shiver ran down Harry's spine. He stood by the words, but was very aware of the vicarious position he was in, that every time he spoke was likely to result in punishment. Torture even. "I recall you agreeing to this, Harry," his voice was cold.

Harry shifted his feet, his grip on his wand tightening as he fought to keep the complete disbelief free from his face. Surely Voldemort was not delusional enough to believe Harry wanted this in any capacity? It was absurd. And yet, fighting semantics would gain him no insight, if he wanted to learn anything about what Voldemort wanted to achieve it would be foolish to keep flaunting his hatred of being here now that he was seemingly stuck at the Slytherin's side. He had accepted the apprenticeship and doubted there was anything that would make Voldemort release him. He'd passed the point of no return and would need to learn to navigate the Dark Lord's unpredictable temperament if he hoped to achieve anything.

"I did," he conceded at last, his voice as void of derision as he could muster. Voldemort tipped his head in approval, making Harry want to bristle all the more. "My point is that if the dark and light are as similar in tactics as you say, then why do I only hear of the dark side using such horrific measures to achieve your end?"

"Because, the light is the one in power," the 'for now' was ominous absent, foreboding creeping down Harry's neck. "And the light shapes the narrative. If it were reversed, if I led the wizarding world and dark magic was allowed free right, if I had blanket restrictions on light magic like what is done to the dark today, how do you think your precious light side would respond? Would they use the same so called underhanded tactics if they were fighting for their very cores magic? Even with the light being the majority, your precious headmaster runs a hidden society. He acts outside the ministry." He paused, staring down his narrow nose at Harry. "And do you truly believe your tactics so much more righteous?"

"We don't torture people to yield," Harry practically snapped, it was abhorrent that Voldemort would even try and compare the two sides. "Your followers tortured Neville's parents to insanity for no reason. I've never seen the light do such a thing."

"And what of the Dementor's?" Voldemort asked, giving Harry a knowing look.

"What do you mean?" Everyone knew the dementors were of the dark, that they were loyal to Voldemort in the last war.

"Your ministry uses them to hold so called criminals. Most of them dark magic practicing witches and wizard. For the side that is so much better, championing human rights, not torturing into submission, they rely on a form of emotional control which makes prisoners relive their very worst memories by creatures that suck happiness from their souls. If I had dementors running around doing such a thing, you would cry me unjust, a monster while preaching how horrible they are. Your own ministry used these creatures on your godfather to punish him for a crime they could have easily determined he never committed."

Harry opened his mouth and then clicked it shut, he'd never really thought of the ministry's use of Dementors. He knew they were horrible, thought their presence at a school beyond reprehensible. "But they're dark creatures," Harry tried to reason.

Voldemort laughed, "all the more proof that the light is not beneath using anything to enforce their will. Perhaps I use unforgivable to get my way, but the light threatens their own compliance through the enforcement of creatures designed to eat souls. I won't claim to not want dementors on my side, that I intend to use them for their advantage. But at least I am open with it. The ministry uses these tactics while championing their 'higher ways.' The same ministry that wont let your beloved werewolf hold a job or provide him a potion known to make him safe to be around backs a system that would have him be outcasted and ostracized. They could help him and don't."

"And you would?" Harry challenged.

"I was the only one who knew the spell that would save the wolf's life when he encountered silver. It was dark magic. I doubt anyone else could have performed it, even if they knew it. Was that evil?"

Harry wasn't sure how to respond. He knew Voldemort was twisting it, only showing the worst. His words did not represent the Weasley's or his other friends who he knew to be good people.

Seeing that he no instant rebuttal, the Slytherin heir smiled knowingly. "You think I'm the horrible blood purist, but look at what is practiced today. It is the same ministry that flings eleven-year-olds into a completely foreign world, and does nothing to alleviate the strains of coming from a non-magical world. They offer no help even when guardians hate or despise magic, they give children no way to protect themselves.

"We are similar Harry, both thrust into the magical world with no guidance. You may think people like the Malfoy's are bigots for upholding the traditions of old, but how arrogant to expect magicals to change their way and accommodate the minority of muggleborn students? And your beloved headmaster is the worst of them all. How much better would your transition have been if you'd received any history, any education on this world before being thrust into it? It's naïve and dangerous. Harming children and putting us at risk for exposure. The current system only furthers the gap between purebloods an not, a system that isn't run by dark practitioners."

Harry stared at the man speechless. He knew the last struck a nerve to who the once young Tom Riddle had been. How must the magical world seem to a boy fearful to return to his orphanage in a time of war? A boy who had no one in the world. It was how Harry had felt when he'd entered in. No one had explained anything to him, an experience that had never improved as he grew older.

"I…" Harry paused, shaking his head. "I mean, well you're right on some points," he conceded quietly, noticing the flash of shock which flashed across the Slytherin's aristocratic features. Harry found himself surprised he was agreeing with the murderer of his parents out loud so readily as well. "Dementors are awful, they should not be used against wizards on by either side." He hesitated, unsure if he should say the next piece. But he sensed Voldemort had revealed a rare moment of vulnerability. One that had hit home to Harry. "And the ministry does do an awful job introducing muggle raised children into society," he conceded, flashes of his own childhood flashing before his eyes. "I won't argue that the ministry is filled with fools."

A smirk lit the tip of Voldemort's features. "Perhaps the first time you and I have agreed, Harry."

Harry felt his cheeks pulse, a blush sweeping down his neck at the almost affectionate remark. "But I do disagree that the light uses the same tactics as you, your ways are violent and filled with bloodshed." He felt better getting back to these grounds, ideals that did not align him with Voldemort.

Voldemort arched a brow. "I think I will enjoy proving you wrong."

Dropping his gaze back to his body, Harry cringed, pushing his hand against his bleeding arm. His body was lit was cuts and scraps, plus the deep cut he'd taken in addition to the torture.

"You should tend to your injuries, Tipsy will bring you some ointments and potions," Voldemort remarked, taking in Harry's injuries. "There are books on healing in your room that I recommend you review. I won't heal you unless it's life threatening. You should learn from your mistakes.

Nodding, Harry stared at his cuts and scraps thoughtfully. He thought he'd held up as good as could be expected. He'd at least gotten a few in on her.

"Will you kill her?" He asked, daring to ask the question he wanted to since she was floated from the room.

The Dark Lord released a sardonic chuckle. "I don't trust her, but I certainly would not throw away such a valuable asset."

"You don't trust her?" Harry asked, beyond surprised. It seemed obvious to him the woman was crazy, but he never expected Voldemort to admit to it, especially to him of all people. Or that Voldemort would care. She was a powerful fanatic who he could let loose on the wizarding world who had very little chance of fighting back.

The Slytherin's heir's lip twitched slightly at his unhidden disbelief. "I would have you thought you'd be the first one to declare her unstable, are you so dubious of my own ability to assess my followers?"

Harry frowned, shrugging. "I guess I just assumed you wouldn't care about her insanity. That you probably encouraged it. She'd do anything for you, even if it got herself killed. It seems like the type of follower you want."

"She is powerful and loyal. Both qualities I admire and reward," he had emphasized the two, giving Harry a pointed look which he promptly ignored. "But that does not mean she is the right instrument for every plan. I intend to take over the wizarding world, make it better. Not destroy it. I need followers I can trust. Kill her, no. But she failed this test and will be punished. And she will either learn or I will have to rethink her role in my plans."

"And what are your plans."

Red orbs glanced over him. "In time Harry, I will reveal all to you. I enjoy our conversations, but there is still much you must learn." Harry wasn't sure he like foreboding tone he heard.

"Tipsy." With a crack the tiny elf appeared.

"Yes, master?" She asked, glancing from Harry to Voldemort. Her eyes took in his scraps and blood, reeling back in concern.

"Take Harry to his room and treat his wounds, no magic. You may give him light pain relievers but nothing more. He's expected to heal himself."

The elf nodded, stepping nearer to Harry.

"You pleased me today," Voldemort murmured, gazing down upon the raven hair youth. "You have much to learn, but the potential is there. Now go, you're released for the night. I won't lock you in your chamber, but there are Death Eaters about. I highly recommend you don't wander. Study healing, I expect you to have found the spells which will heal your wounds prior to lunch." He nodded his head, clearly a dismissal. "Your training has begun, Harry, and remember that I am not a patient master."

AN: there you go! My longest chapter yet. Would love any reviews. Thanks!