When Harry woke up again, he found himself still in the same hall. He hadn't been unconscious for long; he had been given another dose of Manaclaus Draught and was tightly bound with the Binding Curse.

"And also, your access to the castle will be revoked," Voldemort said with a victorious expression. He had already removed that terrifying snake-faced mask, revealing his handsome true face.

"How...?" Harry was really confused... Hadn't he already escaped? The Time-Turner had indeed worked, hadn't it? How had he been caught again?

Voldemort's smile broadened, a triumphant smile that made him look even more handsome.

He continued to explain, "I knew you had a Time-Turner... How could I be tricked by the same thing twice, Harry? Future me would send you a message, luring you here to save someone. I know your level of magic—if you want to save your friends, you can't fend off the Dark Lord's magic... You didn't have time to open a portal for yourself, did you? So you thought your only way to escape was to use that little hourglass in your hand and go back a few hours, didn't you?"

Harry was stunned. He was still a bit confused; which point in time was this Dark Lord from?

"So Lord Voldemort came here early to wait for you. Harry, see how important you are, making the Dark Lord come personally to greet you?"

Voldemort was playing with a small brass item in his slender fingers. Harry recognized it—it was the Time-Turner. Voldemort examined the scale on the hourglass closely: "Three turns. So I will send you a message in three hours, luring you to the castle to save someone. Then you will turn the Time-Turner and obediently come here to be caught by me."

Harry finally confirmed that he had indeed returned to three hours earlier; the Time-Turner had not failed. The person in front of him was from three hours ago. However, the Dark Lord spoke of future events so clearly that Harry couldn't help but be shocked by his elaborate scheme.

He had even calculated their positions during the fight, so when Harry returned three hours ago, he was ambushed from behind, completely unable to resist.

Three hours... He suddenly understood why about three hours ago his scar suddenly stopped hurting, and the Dark Lord seemed to be in a better mood. It wasn't because his father had captured his classmates but because he had successfully captured Harry himself...

Harry saw the whole trap clearly now; he was like prey walking straight into a net, with no escape.

"So, you should reflect well on what you've done," Voldemort said loftily.

The group of Muggle classmates who passed through the portal were met by the famous white wizard, Albus Dumbledore. The elderly man with a white beard, dressed in a somewhat garish purple robe, stood in the wooded area of falling leaves, personally welcoming them. In the distance, the open lake and castle looked like something out of a fairy tale.

The old man handed over a long, thin broken umbrella. Everyone was confused but heard Dumbledore briefly explain, "Grab hold of this. It's a Portkey. Harry asked me to take you to a safe place." Then everyone was transported to a residence, one of the Order of Phoenix's safe houses, which Voldemort presumably couldn't find.

"Professor Dumbledore, will Harry... will he be alright?" Jess, who knew Dumbledore, asked first.

"All we can do now is wait. Harry and I agreed that he would contact us if he managed to escape."

"He... fought with You-Know-Who. Who is he exactly?" A classmate asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

"Harry... is a Potter child," Dumbledore blinked, avoiding the real answer they wanted, "As you can see, he took great risks to save you. Let's hope... he can escape successfully."

However, they waited for a long time and still did not hear from Harry. The atmosphere grew heavier. Until late that night, Dumbledore sighed deeply, his blue eyes lacking their usual cheerful sparkle and looking somewhat sad.

"Will Harry be killed?" Claire asked, even she had put aside her excitement over the grand unifying theory, worried about that child.

"I don't know, Ms. Byran," Dumbledore shook his head and sighed.

After successfully rescuing the students, Harry was transferred to the Dark Lord's bedroom by Voldemort.

His father's room remained just as Harry remembered. This was his third time here… and each time, his state of mind had been completely different. This time, he had become the Dark Lord's captive.

"Lord Voldemort's decisions are not for you to question. You need only obey. Besides… you have no choice but to obey now. You are no longer the master of the castle—don't delude yourself into thinking you can escape."

Harry knew that Slytherin's castle had been relocated to an isolated space through dark magic. It was still on Earth, yet it could not be found anywhere on Earth. The only way in or out was through a portal that could only be opened with the master's authority. Now that Harry no longer had that authority, he was trapped in this small world, unable to escape. The numerous deadly mechanisms outside would all see him as an enemy. He couldn't even move freely within the castle.

"So… I no longer belong here." Harry felt a deep, inescapable sorrow. After all, this place… had always been home to him. There was distant blood lineage, a bond of kinship—this was where he had grown up.

"Perhaps you will belong here forever." Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

But Harry knew—he no longer had a home.

"Not as family, but as a prisoner?" Harry asked sarcastically, lifting his wrist slightly. The metal shackles clinked loudly. They were heavy for his weakened body, and his forearm fell back to the bedside.

"Why put on this act of sadness, Harry? This was your own choice, wasn't it?" Voldemort remained unmoved. "You had a path to glory—following me, rather than becoming a prisoner bound by the shackles of morality. But you insisted on clinging to those foolish ideals… To be honest, when I first learned of your betrayal, I did wonder—was it because you refused to remain beneath me? Had you begun building your own power, scheming for control? So I let you go to the Muggle world and watched you through your classmates' eyes…"

"You spied on me for that reason…? How disappointing for you." Harry found it all the more ironic. It seemed he had never truly earned his father's trust.

"Of course, it was also to ensure you didn't die—you are still useful to me. You even risked your life to save James Potter of the Order of the Phoenix. At first, I thought you might use the opportunity to get close to them, to gain their support. Yet you didn't even let them know of your sacrifices. Through the eyes I borrowed, I observed your life for half a year, and only then did I confirm—you truly did betray the Dark Lord, your great master, the father who raised you, all for the sake of those irrelevant people… If anyone should feel sorrow, it should be me. After all these years we spent together, I meant nothing to you."

"It wasn't meaningless. At that time, I never intended to betray you… I only wanted to save them…"

"Disobeying orders is betrayal! Saving them—why did you want to save them?"

Harry did not answer. Voldemort continued, "Once I had seen enough, I sent the Death Eaters to pay you a visit."

"So the Death Eater attack wasn't an accident? You sent them?"

"Of course. You had rested in the Muggle world long enough, and my plans had to move forward. It was time to bring you back. But the Dark Lord could not allow you to suspect anything. So I found a sufficiently entertaining excuse—knowing you would intervene to save your classmates, you broke our stance of neutrality, didn't you?"

Now that he could see the entire picture, Harry felt like he had been a pawn played in someone else's game all along. No wonder his father, a man so obsessed with control, had agreed to let him go in the first place. He had never escaped his father's grasp… His father had been watching him the entire time—through Jess's eyes. He had always been prey trapped in a web.

"You used to be so good—so obedient, always doing exactly what I asked of you… Why are you growing more defiant?"

"If I could, I wouldn't want to betray you either—but I… I just want the war to stop."

"My own child, the one I raised with my own hands… wants to become my enemy?"

Harry felt even more sorrowful upon hearing those words, yet he simply couldn't go against his own heart and continue aiding in Voldemort's tyranny. "I'm sorry... Father."

The fifteen-year-old looked at his father's familiar face, recalling his past loyalty and admiration, then lowered his gaze. "If you wish, you can just kill me... Had you not saved me back then, I would've been dead already. This life of mine—I owe it to you."

"You wish." Voldemort rejected the idea without hesitation.

"Why not kill me?"

"Because I love you, dear Harry," Voldemort said mockingly, as if he had just uttered the most ridiculous thing in the world. "How could I bear to let you die?"

"Oh... Because I'm still useful, right?" Harry said coolly. He would be a fool to believe those words now.

"Hmph. It seems our Harry has learned a thing or two—finally growing tired of that kind of rhetoric?"

"I won't do your bidding anymore. What use do I have to you?" Harry quickly reviewed their past interactions in his mind, then lowered his head in thought. "Is it because of the final step in the ritual?"

Lord Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him, considering that since his victory was already assured, there was no need to guard his words too closely. He paused before continuing, "The final step of the ritual... Your mysterious power—I will claim it as well."

"Mysterious power...?" Harry didn't understand.

"I thought you'd have figured it out by now. The final step of the immortality ritual—it was you who completed it... The power required—you know what it is." Voldemort coaxed, carefully observing Harry's reaction.

"Maybe I just got lucky?"

"Don't lie to Lord Voldemort. I will know."

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Why was it you? Answer me!"

Red eyes met green, and the magic of Legilimency pierced through the windows of the soul, delving straight into Harry's mind.

"I told you—I don't know." Harry didn't look away, nor did he attempt to guard himself. Merlin be his witness, he was telling the truth. He genuinely didn't know. He himself was baffled—why had he succeeded in completing the final step of the eternal magic ritual when his father had failed? His father's magic was in no way inferior to his own—if anything, it was stronger. It made no sense. Even Dumbledore had asked the same question before... Why did they all think this was something worth investigating? Couldn't it simply be that he had gotten lucky?

Through the deep crimson gaze, past those bright green eyes, Voldemort looked into the depths of the emerald waters, searching beyond their shimmering ripples into the clear, boundless sky. Harry's past experiments, notes, readings, his search for materials... Voldemort scoured through Harry's mind, like a violent storm ravaging a garden of roses, tearing at the delicate petals and scattering them onto the path to be trampled underfoot.

The Legilimency ceased. Voldemort paused for a few seconds before narrowing his eyes, regaining his composure. "It doesn't matter. I've already found a way to solve this puzzle—I don't need your answer."

"You asked me right after the ritual ended." Harry recalled. "You've seen my memories, you've used Legilimency on me—you should know I haven't lied to you. Maybe my success was just a coincidence? Maybe there isn't an answer for you to find, and all your efforts will be in vain."

Perhaps because capturing Harry had put him in a good mood, or perhaps because he was now fully confident in his plan, Lord Voldemort didn't bother concealing anything. "That ritual—your success was no coincidence. You truly possess some power that I do not yet understand. For months, I have been researching the secret within you. Back then, when I pretended to be in love with you, you slept right beside me, completely defenseless... Oh, of course, I put you to sleep myself, but that's irrelevant. What's important is that I was able to study you closely..."

Harry felt a chill in his heart but remained silent, listening to Voldemort's monologue.

"This was quite the puzzle—I wasted no small amount of time on it. At first, I thought it might be your unparalleled control over magic. Yes, I have always known how talented you are in that regard. But my control over magic is not lacking either.

"When you first left the wizarding world, I immediately began reviewing our notes and drafts over and over again. I found that the level of control required for the ritual, while difficult for an average wizard, was something I was more than capable of handling... And yet, I was stuck for so many years, unable to succeed. Why?"

Harry believed that his control over magic still couldn't compare to his father's. Though he was still feeling sorrowful, he couldn't help but listen to these words.

Voldemort continued, "Your body has many peculiarities, and I wondered—could it be because you lack Libido? As you know, blood contains the power of life's pillar… Your blood's magical properties are also different from others. I found in a book that this is called Bleak Blood. I thought I had found a clue, so I extracted and studied it—but the magical nature of this blood is purification, calming the mind, and the like. It wasn't the kind of power that would grant me true immortality."

"You have other peculiarities as well. It's strange… How is it that you're missing several organs? And even two ribs? You seem to have many old injuries… But I examined them one by one, and none of them were the source of that mysterious power."

"You continue to surprise me… A few days later, I discovered that your body, much like the rebis described in alchemy, possesses that sacred dual-unity magic. I was ecstatic, thinking I had finally found the answer. I tried exploring it with various forms of magic, including sex magic, of course… But to my frustration, it still seemed unrelated to our pursuit of eternity."

"I couldn't find the answer, but I didn't despair. You are such a fascinating mystery. I know the answer is there. You are there, waiting for me to unravel your secrets. So I conducted even more experiments. And in the end, I finally discovered it—whatever that mysterious power is that made you succeed, it's hidden within your soul. And now, what I must do next is find a way to use it."

"You tricked me into a relationship for the final step of your immortality ritual… This mysterious power… You've been studying this the entire time we were in the Muggle world?" Harry felt his heart turn cold, and then a realization hit him like a blow. "So all those times… You… You said you were helping me with my sleep problems, casting spells to put me to sleep—was that just so you could study me?"

Harry let out a self-deprecating laugh. At this moment, he finally understood why he had felt constantly weak during that time. His father had even treated him back then—Harry had been touched by it. No wonder he had never been able to fool him by pretending to be fine—because the very source of his weakness was standing right in front of him. Looking back now, everything seemed so ironic.

"That's right. The moment you fell asleep, I immediately got to work—extracting your blood, testing spells on your body—I didn't wait even a single day. And every night after that, I continued. The Sleeping Charm ensured you wouldn't wake up. And yet, Harry, you really had no idea?"

Harry was silent for a moment before speaking with a hint of sorrow. "It's not like I never suspected. After that Sleeping Charm, I would feel unwell the next day… I even considered whether the spell was the cause. But unfortunately, I never truly suspected you."

"I had even prepared excuses to fool you, but in the end, you never even asked. So careless, ignoring such obvious clues—this isn't like the intelligent and powerful Dark Prince I know." Voldemort sneered. "See? Love—it makes you weak."

Harry didn't answer.

"It's also love that makes you suffer so much. Why not let it go and finally walk the right path?" Voldemort continued, looking down on him.

Still, Harry didn't respond. His head was bowed, his messy bangs casting a shadow over his face, concealing his expression.

"Feeling sentimental, Harry? We're not done talking yet. Why not learn your lesson now? Set aside your useless emotions, regain your intelligence, and think—are there still any unresolved questions? While I'm in a good mood, I might even answer them." Voldemort spoke with amusement, as if reveling in his own success.

"Yes… There are still questions…" Harry forced himself to regain his composure. Being upset wouldn't help—this was not the time for sorrow. He made himself recall everything that had happened in the past few months, forcing his mind to start working again. "Why did you pretend to be in a relationship with me?"

"Good question. Maybe I truly wanted to be in a relationship with you. What, Harry doesn't believe that now?" Voldemort mocked.

"You've never been interested in that sort of thing. Back in the Muggle world, you even made an efficiency schedule. At the time, I didn't understand—I just thought it was your usual personality. But now I realize… You found it all tedious, so you wanted to be efficient, unwilling to waste a single unnecessary move, isn't that right?"

"Well, you were obedient enough. I hardly had to do anything extra. Half of my to-do list was still unchecked, and yet you had already submitted—more eagerly than I had anticipated."

"But why a relationship? I've always loved you. Adding a romantic relationship on top of that—what purpose did it serve? How did it connect to that mysterious power?"

Voldemort smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "Why don't you take a guess? Here's a hint—think about how, in order to keep you happy, I paused all killing and death… Until my goal was achieved."

Harry spoke softly, "You stopped killing and death… Until we established that soul bond. Because that was a magic exclusive to lovers. Our previous father-son relationship wasn't enough, so you deliberately guided our relationship toward romance… So that was what you truly wanted—a soul bond? You had already figured out that the mysterious power was in my soul. And forming a soul bond with me was your way of taking it?"

"Exactly. You didn't really think it was to witness our great love, did you?"

The truth was revealed. And the truth hurt. Harry couldn't help but feel devastated.

Voldemort went on, "That soul bond was a complete success. I can extract the power hidden within your soul—whatever it is… When I used it in my immortality rituals, I noticed the magic had changed—something strange had been added to it…"

"And then you needed an experiment… So you deliberately attended that parents' meeting, picked a fight—you already knew I had saved James, but you pretended to pick a quarrel just so you could attack and harvest lives, just to test the power you gained…" Harry's voice was utterly devoid of life.

"Yes. See? Now that you've abandoned the foolish idea of love, our dear Harry is finally thinking clearly. My experiment was a success. I still don't fully understand what this power is, but I know it is this mysterious element—this hidden force within you—that allowed you to complete the final step of the magical ritual… That brought forth eternity."

Harry lowered his gaze, silent. He felt utterly alone. Cold. A sharp pain struck his chest. But then… what right did he have to feel heartbroken?

Who was he? He had done so many wrong things. He never had the right to be loved. What made him think he could ever have something like that?

He wasn't worthy.

He should have known all along…