Warning: minor charachter death

More than a thousand white-hot knifes were cutting, piercing and twisting in every inch of his skin. Behind tightly squeezed eyelids, his eyes were rolling madly in his head; his body convulsing under the pressure of his torment. He wasn't sure whether his scar had spilt open already; he wasn't even sure where he was and why he had to endure this lancinating agony.

"More, Harry?" sounded Voldemort's high, cold merciless voice through Harry's screams. "Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time."

Ten seconds passed, and then twenty and thirty, and finally the pain started to pull back like the tide going out. The dull after-ache was still lingering in his body, reminding him of the power of the Cruciatus Curse.

"Tell me what you heard," whispered Voldemort softly.

Harry rested limply against the broken wall, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. His body was shivering feverishly; his scar searing past endurance. Harry thought he'd become accustomed to the pain about now, that it would become easier to cope with, but he couldn't be more wrong.

He braced himself when Voldemort raised his wand. The world of excruciating pain returned in full measure. His throat was barely able to support his screaming. In an effort to escape, his back pounded desperately against the wall; his legs were scraping the floor. The white-hot knifes were cutting mercilessly; his bones were on fire. Every muscle and every tissue in his body screamed for release; every cell in his body begging to pass out…

It hurt so bad he could hardly negotiate the raw outlines of the environment that strobed in and out of focus all around him. He was going to lose his mind; lose the battle with his protesting body to finally give in – to beg for the pain to stop. There was no room for dignity anymore, no room for self-respect; he didn't care. He couldn't take it any longer…

"Stop!" Harry cried, when he felt the burning increase. "Stop! Please, please…"

"I won't stop," called Voldemort's voice, drowning Harry's pleas. "You think you have felt pain thus far? We have hours ahead of us and I don't think I'm quite satisfied yet."

"No! No, please!" Harry managed to yell, before screaming to the pain again.

"As much as I enjoy your begging, Harry, it won't do you any good," sneered Voldemort. He watched as Harry doubled over, away from the wall and began to roll over the ground. His hands clutched his head; his palm ironed his scar and the screaming increased its volume.

Voldemort lowered his wand, ending the curse. The boy was getting awfully close to losing his mind. That mustn't happen… Not right now anyway. He watched Harry's body shudder uncontrollably; his screaming had reduced to soft whimpers. Voldemort felt marginally less angry; Harry's desperate pleading had lifted his spirits.

Harry continued to shiver. He slowly got up and staggered sideways to the wall. His legs barely supported him, but he managed to keep standing. Panting, he looked up to Voldemort whose bright eyes pierced into his.

"A little pause," whispered Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement. "A little moment of respite… In which you will tell me exactly what you've overheard, won't you?"

Still panting, Harry kept looking at Voldemort. He pressed himself tighter to the wall when Voldemort approached him and flinched when he brought his hand close to Harry's cheek. The long finger traced over Harry's face and then grabbed his chin. Harry's eyes screwed up against the pain in his scar, now more terrible than ever.

"Look at me, Harry," said Voldemort very softly, taping with his index finger on Harry's cheek. His scar seared and burned… The pain of it was making his eyes stream... Slowly, he opened them and looked into Voldemort's.

Images of a kneeling Kreacher flickered through his mind. Kreacher's raspy voice rang in his ears, followed by his sobbing and moaning. He was standing in the dungeons, in Snape's classroom, staring down at Kreacher. Kreacher said something, but Harry didn't understand it; the pain in his scar captivated him, making it impossible to concentrate.

Suddenly, Harry was in the hallway, running away from the death eaters. And then, he ran in the Room of Requirement. Kreacher and the dungeon reappeared, only to disappear again and Harry found himself on the ground, trembling as bad as he did now. Kreacher was laying beside him and Harry heard himself speak.

"Try to steal back the locket…" His voice was faint, mumbling, but this time Harry was able to hear the words.

"Keep it safe, keep it well-hidden this time. Make sure Voldemort or the death eaters are not able to find you."

And then Kreacher dissolved. Voldemort was standing before him, looking more deranged then before. Harry felt his nails dug deeper into his skin and he closed his eyes again.

"How is it possible that a little, pathetic being such as yourself is able to thwart my every move?" Voldemort hissed, his hand vibrating so heavily that Harry's head shook. "How is it possible that you keep resisting me, keep defying me?"

Voldemort let go of his chin and slapped him hard across the face. The movement made Harry stumble and he had to grip the wall for preventing himself from falling. He couldn't close his eyes any longer, not with the thread of a very angry Voldemort before him.

"Apparently I am too soft with you… I'm not punishing you hard enough…" said Voldemort ominously. He raised his wand.

"No, wait!" Harry croaked desperately, struggling to find his voice. "Wait, please. I – I …"

But what could he say? He wasn't going to bring Voldemort to 12 Grimmauld Place nor was he going to summon Kreacher to him. He didn't have anything to bargain to evade Voldemort's fury. He wasn't even sure whether Voldemort would keep his promise not to hurt his friends, since he obviously hadn't. Maybe it would just be best to take the pain.

Voldemort seemed to have caught on with his thoughts, for he was smiling, giving Harry a menacing glare.

"There is something blocked inside your mind, Harry," he whispered. "And given the fact you're such a terrible liar, you can't have done that on your own… What are you forced to protect?"

Harry didn't answer. Obviously the Fidelius Charm was still intact, otherwise Voldemort would be able to see it… But how could this be? With Dumbledore and Sirius gone, he didn't even know who was Secret-Keeper now… Was it possible that he was? Was the charm strong enough to withstand Legilimency?

Now more than ever he wished he'd paid attention to stuff like this. If only he could be a little more like Hermoine, then he'd know whether the secret could be passed on and to whom. Professor Flitwick had explained, in Harry's third year, that the Keeper must choose to divulge the secret… Harry had overheard him when he was visiting Hogsmeade without permission. So, if he, Harry, didn't choose to share the location, would pure determination be enough to keep Voldemort at a distance?

Harry avoided Voldemort's scrutinizing glare, just in case. He pressed his lips together and looked behind Voldemort.

"This is your last chance, Harry, your last chance to escape another punishment… I suggest you take it," hissed Voldemort. But when Harry still didn't answer, still refused to look at him, Voldemort's patience ran out.

"Very well. Crucio!"

Absentmindedly, he watched the boy writhe and scream on the floor. Even Harry's cries couldn't stop him from wandering in his own mind. The boy had seen him and Kreacher in the dungeon together, through his own eyes. He already knew that the boy could witness his conversations and actions, through this connection he and Harry shared, but that had only been possible when the boy was asleep… when he was dreaming… Apparently, he was mistaken. The boy could travel in his mind on demand, could see what he sees while being awake.

It must stop, he thought while watching Harry roll around over the floor. If the boy is able to see what I am doing, I would be risking exposer of my secrets. He will know far more than I want him to…

He shall have to use Occlumency for a while, to unable the boy from entering his mind. Yes, with Occlumency, he'd be safe. He heard Harry's scream increasing, heard the desperate pleas, but ignored them. The boy had ordered this house-elf to hide the locket… To hide altogether. He was nowhere closer to his locket than he'd been a few hours earlier. But at least, the Horcrux was still whole; undamaged.

Voldemort's eyes flickered through the room. It looked different than the last time he'd been here. Harry had found this place as well… Maybe in an act of desperation, but nevertheless, he'd found it and with that, his other Horcrux, the diadem, wasn't safe here anymore. He would have to move it, together with the locket he was going to get back from Harry.

But first, he had to take a different approach; merely inflecting torturous pain onto the boy wouldn't help him into retrieving the piece of his soul. No… It hurt Harry the most when he would threaten – torture – kill – his beloved friends. The boy hated it when others had to suffer because of him. And now it was time to finally use this against him.

A new idea popped into his head. Tomorrow, the new regime at Hogwarts would start… Why not kick it off with a round of punishments for the whole school to see? It would certainly leave an impression…

He turned his gaze back at Harry, who had stopped shouting, but was still gritting his teeth in a silent scream. Minutes most have passed; maybe even a quarter of an hour… Far too long for to be subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. He lowered his wand. Harry stopped writhing immediately; he lay motionlessly on the ground, having passed out…

Levicorpus, Voldemort thought and gave a little flick with his wand. Harry got hoisted up in the air at once; dangling by his ankle, as though an invisible hand held him there. Voldemort gave another flick of his wand and Harry floated away from his, across the room, towards the door. Voldemort followed the dangling boy.

He stepped out of the Room, went down the stairs, and walked his way back to the dungeons, where Snape was instructed to wait for him. He would pick up the diadem tomorrow. There was no need to walk around with the little crown for accidental bystanders to see.

Voldemort approached the door of Snape's quarters. It opened on his command and he looked straight into Snape's face, who was visible unnerved at the sight of him and Harry.

"You-you found him, my lord?" asked Snape quite unnecessary, for Harry was hanging mid-air.

"Naturally," Voldemort replied, and made Harry drop on the sofa next to the fire. The boy didn't wake. Voldemort took a seat opposite of Snape. There was no window in the room, but Voldemort knew the night had passed already; it was nearly morning.

"I trust that you've figured out by now how dangerous it can be to leave Harry alone," whispered Voldemort slowly. "It was foolish of you to urge me for letting him remain here... However, the fault is not entirely yours, Severus."

Snape didn't speak. Long experiences with the Dark Lord had taught him that remaining silent would be the best decision.

"I will show you mercy, Severus," Voldemort continued. "What happened tonight will change nothing to the plans. In a few hours, the students of Hogwarts are to be waken. You will announce yourself as their new Headmaster. The Daily Prophet is already aware, there will be a niece little piece about our stabilization of Hogwarts. No doubt they shall contact you for an interview. Make it nice."

"My lord, I am most humbled," Snape stammered, "I cannot thank you enough-"

"That will do," interrupted Voldemort. "I am not finished. I trust that you are quite capable of running this school into perfection. I will leave it in your competent hands. Consult with the Carrows and with the Malfoys. There are still some positions that need to be filled.

"In the meantime, wait for Bellatrix' word. I respect the teachers of Hogwarts and their qualities. No doubt they will come to realize how foolish they've been. I want them to return to Hogwarts to teach."

"Yes, my lord. It shall be done."

"Good. I've sent Ackerly and Rowle to find and capture Horace Slughorn. I remember him being a quite competent teacher. He will have to continue teaching Potions. Wait for Ackerly's word as well."

Snape nodded. His eyes flickered toward Harry and away again. "And what about Potter?"

"The boy will remain here, for now…" answered Voldemort, following Snape's eyes to Harry. "In time, I shall take him to Azkaban where he belongs… But first, there's something I need him to do. He'll need a little motivation… and part of that motivation happens to be here at Hogwarts."

Suddenly, Snape flinched and gripped his left underarm, as though he had received an electrical shock. Voldemort felt it too; they were calling him. Something was happening…

"Rest now, Severus," answered Voldemort to Snape's questioning look. "You are in charge here, do not fail me."

And before Snape could give a small nod, or a bow, Voldemort rose from his chair and walked towards the door. Then he stopped, and turned sideways to pay Harry one last glance.

"Make sure he doesn't go anywhere until I return." And with that, he vanished out of sight.

Voldemort Apparated at the Ministry, the place were the Death Eaters had tried to summon him. He didn't need to ask why; jets of bright lights, in all colors, fired across the Atrium. Pieces of broken statues littered the hall, and the biggest statue, the one on the fountain, was somehow on fire. People were running – shouting and jinxing each other at random. It was hard to tell which side had the upper hand in this riot: Voldemort stepped out of the way when a pair of Death Eaters flew through the air; one hit the wall and collapsed on the ground, the second Death Eater caught a piece of stone mid-air, and crashed into another Death Eater.

Their attackers jeered and proceeded to fire more spells, but were stopped by Yaxley, who had emerged from the dust and rumble and casted a well-aimed Stunning at the rebelling group. The wizard in the middle doubled over as the one on his right crashed into his falling body. The third wizard shifted his glasses and ducked when a jet of red light made the few red hairs on his head stand upright.

Arthur Weasley turned around and pointed his wand at Yaxley. Two curses met each other; both men were forced backwards as their curses rebounded on one another. Mr. Weasley's head collided with the edge of the fountain, and remained motionlessly on the ground. Yaxley hit the balcony railing, doubled over the rim and fell one storey down to the ground level. Voldemort had seen enough.

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Voldemort, ringing his high cold voice through the whole of the Atrium. The fight got ceased at once. Some froze to their spots, wands still raised; others turned to the face source of the howl.

"It's him!" a few whispered. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, he's here!"

"Silence," whispered Voldemort dangerously and he stepped to the middle of the hall. Someone had broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort.

"Stupefy!"

With a simple flick of his wand, Voldemort conjured an invisible shield. A loud gong sounded through the air as the shield rejected the Stunning Spell. The man hit the ground, Disarmed, Voldemort throwing the challenger's wand aside and laughing.

"And who are you? Who is foolish enough to demonstrate what happens to those who defy Lord Voldemort?"

The remaining Death Eaters laughed delightfully.

"That is Amos Diggory, my lord," answered Dolohov. "He works Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"You killed my son!" roared Mr. Diggory, trembling; his hands clenched into fists.

"Did I?" said Voldemort softly and tilted his head, as if he was studying the man before him. "And who might your son be?"

"Cedric," answered Mr. Diggory dignified. "Cedric Diggory. He faced you during his last task of the Triwizard Tournament."

Voldemort's high-pitched laughter rang through the air, with him a couple of Death Eaters joined in.

"Oh, but you should know that I haven't paid any attention to your son. His death was ordered by me, yes, but only because he was standing in the way. I had no use of him… So I made my Death Eater dispose of him…"

"You-you," stammered Mr. Diggory, his voice cracking. Voldemort laughed again when he saw the man in front of him brake.

"But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave man?" Voldemort asked Mr. Diggory. "You've showed me spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. We need your kind, Amos Diggory."

"The hell I won't!" roared Mr. Diggory, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd.

"Very well," said Voldemort with much danger in the silkiness of his voice. "If that is your decision, then so be it. Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light blinded everyone in the Atrium; Mr. Diggory sank through his knees and hit the ground with a dry thud. The Death Eaters laughed and Voldemort's lipless mouth curled into a smile.

"Are there any other volunteers?" he asked the crowd. They remained silent. Horrified, they gazed at Mr. Diggory's lifeless body.

"Then let this be a warning," he continued. "Lord Voldemort is forgiving, he will forgive your foolish moment of defiance. Changes can be difficult, Lord Voldemort understands this. But in time, you all will come to realize that in order to create a better place, changes are indeed necessary. We shall have to purify our world; dispose ourselves of the rotting, and with my wisdom and my guidance, we will be able to rise up in a new, superior area.

"I suggest you carry on," Voldemort ended his speech calmly. He turned his back to the crowd and addressed the Death Eater closest to him. He spoke very quietly, so that the others couldn't hear him.

"This is the last time I have to intervene. If you're not able to control them, then the same fait of Amos Diggory will await you."

"Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord," the Death Eater said, while bowing.

"Good. Now send the body to his wife. She should know of her husband's passing," he said and walked over to Mr. Weasley's motionless body. He kicked his foot in the man's chest.

"And who is this hero?" he asked Yaxley, who had regained consciousness.

"Arthur Weasley, my lord. The was a member of the former Order of the Phoenix."

"Ah yes, I can see the resemblances with his family. He should join his sons in Azkaban, shouldn't he?" Voldemort returned Yaxley's laughter.

"Certainly, my lord."

"See to it," Voldemort demanded. "Hand him over to Bellatrix. And then return here to keep this lot under control. Make sure that you do, Lord Voldemort won't be so merciful next time."

"Yes, my lord," said Yaxley, whose laughing stopped immediately at the threat. Voldemort turned his back at him. He had foreseen this little riot, it was his fault after all. He had spent the previous year carefully planning his rise of power. It should have gone quietly, carefully; not even noticeable to the observant eyes.

The plan had been to gain followers; to let them infiltrate the Ministry. The coup should have been smooth and virtually silent. Of course people would deduce what was happening in time, and they would whisper, but that was exactly the intent: To make people wander, but not dare to speak out loud; to prevent people from confiding in each other, not knowing whom to trust; in case their suspicions are true and their families are targeted.

Yes… Declaring himself as their new ruler would provoke open rebellion, as it had done now… Remaining masked would have created perfect confusion, uncertainty, and fear. But he had exposed himself before this plan could have been set in motion and he had proceeded his plans too quickly. He could only hope that his little show had scared them enough, that the death of Amos Diggory was enough of a warning to prevent people from trying to rebel again…

With both the Ministry and Hogwarts in his grasp, not to mention the Boy Who Lived, their hope must die. Their great hero's, their great protectors, were gone, or locked up. He would have executed Harry in the open, if he'd not been another Horcrux.

But there was still another way. Harry was his now and he shall let the world know: The Boy Who Lived would no longer be their hero, their tiny flicker of hope. Harry would join him, and openly declare himself to be another servant, to have switched sides with Voldemort. Yes…

And with the new plan he'd in store for him, it wouldn't be too difficult to achieve this. Laughing maniacally, Voldemort Apparated… back to Hogwarts.

Note:

There might be a lot of errors in this one, more than usual: I wrote this chapter very quick. Since I never reread anything (bad, I know), I probably missed them. Sorry!