Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry laid on his back in the middle of the grass, behind a big bush of lilac. He didn’t exactly remember how he got here, but the heat was overbearing even at dusk. 

Harry stared at the sky - he didn’t care much if he was staring at the monotonic white ceiling of his room or the beautiful mix of colors in the twilight sky.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon dragged him outside forcefully, not that he was posing much resistance. He just didn’t care.

“You’re a shame to your aunt’s family” Uncle grumbled as he kicked him outside “What was going on before was rough but this level of sloth is unacceptable…”

Uncle was right, maybe. Harry had a tough time thinking about them lately. His mind was constantly stuck somewhere in between his nightmares that kept him awake and woke him with a scream, and vague letters, or lack thereof, from his friends and the whole wizarding world. Somewhere in the sidelines of his consciousness he could tell that he smelled, or was thirsty. He didn’t care much about his physiological needs lately - part of the reason why dursleys kicked him outside of his room, so aunt Petunia could clean there.

He rubbed his face, feeling just how sweaty it got. He couldn’t remember when he actually used shampoo during his quick, generic showers, but it was probably back in Hogwarts, when Ron could still help him. He didn’t remember much from that time, not that he could ask anyone for a recap.

From vague letters from Hermione and Ron he could tell they were somewhere together - and for some reason he had to stay at Dursleys. In between the lines they told him Dumbledore is the one who censors the messages and that they’re trying their best. 

Harry however,  wasn’t trying his best anymore. In fact, he was barely trying at all.

Sirius on the other hand didn’t tell him much information at all, but his letters were far more spirit-lifting.

He often said that he knows how tough it is for Harry and that just a little more and they’ll meet. Lately all of them were just waiting for Harry to write back.

“Where is that hairy thing?” Asked uncle Vernon, his voice loud, right next to the kitchen window.

“I don’t know.” Answered Aunt Petunia conservatively. “But I don’t want his lice anywhere close to my home.”
“He has WHAT?” Uncle Vernon whisper shouted. 

“He has something. Everyone would, after being this filthy for so long” Aunt Petunia’s voice broke down at the end “Vernon I… I can’t anymore…”

“Shh, Tunny…” Harry heard quiet sobs, much more muffled now. He could tell that he was being a problem for Dursleys but he was so used to it now it barely scraped the borders of his catatonic mind. He didn’t feel particularly guilty about them. He had enough guilt to carry as is, and he could tell that if his mind allowed him to feel even an ounce more, he would annihilate.

“Where’s Dudley?" Aunt Petunia sniffled “I don’t like when he goes back late…”

“He has friends, my dear. A young boy like him is bound to stay up sometimes” Uncle’s voice changed completely when he was talking about his son. Harry almost forgot sometimes that Dursleys could be loving, helicopter parents if they wanted. Just not to him.

He felt a soft pang in his heart, which surprised him so much that he sat up. Why was his heart still hurting when thinking about the Dursleys? Didn’t he have enough on his plate already?

His mind didn’t listen to him however and soon he could feel his body trembling, almost like an out of body experience. He wiped his tears methodically, hoping they would stop soon because crying made him tired and he didn’t want to fall asleep yet. His screams would likely keep the whole neighborhood awake, and Dursleys would muffle him - or finally kick him out.

With every week they felt more and more relaxed around Harry compared to last summer. He wasn’t keeping them on their toes anymore with threats about his serial killer godfather, or wand that somehow almost always found its way into his hand when he needed it most - not that he would use it, obviously. Especially now, he didn’t know if he’d be able to cast simple Lumos if his life depended on it.

No, the Dursleys could tell that whatever happened to Harry at school - which didn’t bother them much from a pedagogical standpoint - was keeping him harmless and pliant. During those rare times when he left his room, Dudley had no problem shoving him at the wall, watching him bounce back on the ground, his aunt and uncle trying their best to mobilize him, so he’ll be able to do housechores again. They weren’t successful in that matter and after some time stopped trying, counting days till he’ll be off their shoulders again.

When he finally got inside the whole house was quiet except from tv in the living room playing on low-volume - aunt must’ve wanted to stay up till her beloved Duddy will be back. When he dragged himself up the stairs and to his small room, he could see that aunt petunia got rid of most of his belongings, alongside with his sheets, leaving only some easy to wash blankets behind. He couldn’t see Hedwig’s cage either, which only brushed past his consciousness uncomfortably.

Like on a command, Hedwig came back with another letter - the rest of them left in the highest drawer of his desk, throwing yet another one on top. She landed softly on the surface, looking around curiously then in confusion when she couldn’t see her cage. 

“I’m sorry, girl” Harry croaked out, delicately petting her head with shaking fingers. She looked up at him with wide eyes. He averted his own, feeling the wave of emotions he was suppressing for weeks dangerously close to breaking.

He inhaled air though his nose, holding the edge of his desk tightly.

Cedric, guilt, pain, Voldemot’s red eyes, guilt, pain, pain, pain, deatheaters, Cedric’s body, pain, grass, pain, pain, pain, guilt, guilt guilt-

He heard Hedwig jump up with a quiet hoo. He glanced down seeing half the desk in dark, almost swollen marks, like poison, or tentacles of burnt wood. 

“Sorry…” he whispered, taking the crumpled letter and opening it with a rushed, shaky movement. He could barely see the words, but eventually recognized Sirius’s writing: 

“Harry” something something “I’m sorry but” something something “Another month” something something “Don’t do anything stupid”

The words vibrated in his mind making his legs give out as he fell on the bed.

He started laughing quietly, finally feeling something, anything push through. Another month? Another month here, alone - like this? 

Now he was laughing out loud, holding his stomach from how hard the breath left his lungs, breaking into sobs now and then, finally blooming into full on breakdown, lack of breath, shaking on the ground, vaguely feeling Hedwig bite and tug at his clothing as he screamed and cried so hard he could feel his mind going insane. 

Something was happening, something was happening, someone turned on the light or did it turn on by itself? He heard Hedwig squeal, someone shaking him then beating his face hard, but Harry couldn’t snap out of it, Next month, another month here, another month like this, no, no, no, no-

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

He felt something wet fall onto his face. Drop, then another one, then another. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness outside. Ah, he was outside now. The rain was falling on his face. Where was he? Still on Private Drive, perhaps. 

He turned around, seeing the door to the house wide open, hanging off the hinges. He looked around, but there was no one here - not even one head in the window. 

He tentatively stepped inside almost on autopilot. 

He couldn’t see much, like someone had cast a spell that stopped him from seeing more than ten centimetres before his eyes. He stumbled up the stairs on muscle memory, tripping a couple times on weak muscles, bumping into some or falling over from time to time. 

“Hello?” he croaked quietly, then louder, but the house remained dead silent. When he stepped into his room, all the darkness disappeared like it was never there. He glanced back - no, the corridor was still pitch black, only his room was clear of the smoke. The whole room looked untouched. Like nothing changed, like it was never lived in. Like the house didn’t remember neither him, or anyone else. There was no Hedwig and no Dursleys in sight.

Oh. So he finally went insane - he mused quietly stepping out.

Chapter Text

After some time he realised that he had a wand in hand. To be fair, the fact that Dursleys didn’t break it in the meantime surprised him much more than the state of the house. He wasn’t sure if his head could handle what he did, so he’d rather not find out. Ever.

He stepped out onto the dark night feeling the suppressed magic vibrate in his veins, like he was a champagne bottle ready to burst. He waved his wand absentmindedly through the constant rain, a large bus appearing out of nowhere almost bumping into him.

Harry didn’t bother to flinch. His body had a clear plan at hand even if his mind bounced left and right inside his head free of this responsibility. 

He heard Stan Shunpike say something but he only walked past him inside. The boy tugged his sleeve making Harry look up at him. His face froze in silent shock, which didn’t particularly bother Harry, he just freed his sleeve.

“Malfoy’s house.” He said sitting on one of the empty seats. Stan glanced at the driver in exasperation but the man only shrugged.

Harry looked up at the older boy and something in his face made Stan snap out of the haze, stepping over towards the front of the bus, whispering something feverishly. He didn’t ask Harry for payment for the fare.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Not even minutes later, the vehicle stopped, and Harry got up. It seemed that it became a priority for the bus crew to get him off as quickly as they could.

“Mr. Potter?” Stan asked, standing uncertainly in the door of the bus, looking at Harry who already got off on the soft grass “Is… Is everything okay?” his voice wavered. He didn’t sound okay, it seemed that his bubbly personality was somehow dimmed. 

Harry glanced up at him.

“Everything is alright” Harry smiled “Thank you, Stan”

He turned on his heel and walked up the long driveway.

He was never at Malfoy’s house and to be fair he didn’t even know how he knew that he should be HERE now, but he wasn’t in any state to question it.

The dark manor seemed menacing at night, some flowing lights in the big garden giving it almost an eerie but somehow comforting vibe.

He lifted his hand and used the huge knocker attached to the cast iron, black gate. One, two, three thumps.

“Hello?” Harry cleared his throat and called again. He wasn’t sure if anyone was ever home, or why exactly would Malfoys open to him in the middle of the night but here he was.

It was a bit cold, and he realized he’s still in his dirty t-shirt and sweatpants he wore for a week, all wet from the rain that woke him up. He felt a bit self conscious now and clumsily tried to fix his soggy mop of black hair.

The gate creaked open, and he could see the main door to the manor opening, letting light out onto the dark path.

“I’m sorry to disturb” Harry walked towards the door. He recognized the man before him as Lucius Malfoy whom he last saw in the graveyard but it all seemed okay now. Everything was okay now, because he couldn’t deal with this anymore. 

The man stared at him with a raised wand and waxy face, looking more like a stone figure than breathing human.

“Could you let me in?” Harry asked, standing before him “It’s a bit chilly here.”

“...What are you playing at?....” Lucius looked at him with a blank stare, seeming more confused and terrified than anything else. Harry furrowed his brows.

“Ah, yes well… I need to meet with Voldemort and I figured it’s easiest to contact one of his followers.”

“Lucius? Who is this?” He heard some woman’s sleepy voice deep into the corridor.

“I-...” The man looked at him astonished then stepped back slowly. Harry nodded awkwardly as he walked past him inside, hearing the door close.

“Narcissa…”

The woman stopped in her tracks. She was standing on the bottom of impressive stairs, in a silky robe with fur finishings. With no makeup and long hair let down she looked almost approachable. Ah yes, Malfoy’s mum.

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m sorry to disturb you like this” Harry said politely.

The woman opened her eyes wider and looked from Lucius to him a couple of times.

“Did you…?” She asked Lucius

“Yes” He nodded, fixing his robe. He must’ve touched his dark mark just now. “Let’s move to the living room” 

He gave Narcissa a look and then showed Harry the way, keeping him constantly in front of him like the boy will jump and suddenly attack them.

“Did you check the…?” The woman whispered

“Yes, no one is here besides him” He mumbled back, lighting an impressive fireplace making the room look much livelier.

“Let… Let me dry you…” The woman walked closer to Harry like she wasn’t sure if he won’t bite her in a second.

“Oh… “ Harry glanced down at his clothing. “There’s no need, it won’t take long” 

How nice of her, though - he thought. 

“What…”

The pair flinched hearing a snap in the air, which seemed much more dense now. Harry looked up at them and saw their horror, both keeping their gaze on the carpet, like they were too scared to move. He looked around and finally saw.

“Harry Potter” said Lord Voldemort.

He undoubtedly looked much better now. It seemed that the longer from the ritual the more he resembled a human - sharp teeth and red eyes couldn’t fool anyone but now Harry understood why some people followed the dark lord in the first place. He resembled the Tom he saw in the chamber, the version of Voldemort who broke his trust the way the real one never managed to.

“Can we talk in private?” Harry asked. He didn’t see a point in dragging it further with a chit chat.

The Dark Lord looked at him with his piercing gaze which finally moved to Malfoys.

“Leave.” His voice carried a silent threat like they were both about to drop dead if they stayed here a second longer. It was almost funny in a way. 

They scrambled outside, the door shutting with a click, leaving silence and pops of cracking logs.

Voldemort waved his wand again making Harry’s clothes dry, and he could feel some of the dirt leaving his body. 

His face was stung in pain, he realized.

He touched his nose absentmindedly and winced at the pain. Was it broken? When? How? And did it matter?

“What did you want?” Asked Voldemort finally as he stepped closer. The wand was held leisurely at his side, but his moves were a bit rigid, the dark cloak covering his body moving like smoke making his moves almost snake-like. Right, didn’t he have a snake? He did, right? 

“Ah, yes” Harry snapped out of it “I give up. I’d like to ask you to kill me” he asked politely.

Chapter Text

Voldemort blinked. Two blinks.

“Is this a joke?” He asked, although what he meant was probably ‘trap’. 

“No. It’s just… I don’t want to deal with this anymore. So go ahead” Harry placed his wand on the coffee table and sat down on the leather sofa (surprisingly soft). Voldemort stared at him from above, glistening in the soft glow of flames like a ghostly apparition.

He sat down slowly in the armchair in front of him and reached over to take Harry’s wand. 

He inspected it with his slim, long fingers, brushing against the wand like he wanted to check every nook and cranny it had. He waved it, and the flames changed color only to go back to red soon after. Harry could only guess that he was testing for any traps.

“I won’t lie, Harry, I’m glad to see you” He said holding both of the wands now, his full attention focused back on the boy. His voice was calm, and it looked like he planned to take his time. Well, as long as it will work out… “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” Harry tensed. The most obvious answer would be ‘you’ but he had a feeling being petty now wouldn’t change much. He didn’t feel any motivation to feel or cause anger now. He just wanted to pass in peace.

Voldemort leaned in slowly “You’re wounded.”

Harry looked at him confused and touched his face again. Oh. So that’s what this pain meant.

“Oh. Right, I… It seems i am”
“What happened?”

Harry felt a bit uncomfortable now. He felt like Voldemort’s voice was almost uncannily even and soft. Maybe that was the effect of letting the burden off the shoulders? Knowing that he’ll be able to kill Harry at last must’ve made his day.

“I don’t remember well. I just… Please, I just want to go.”
“Go?”
“You know…” Harry shifted “Go. Pass away.”

Voldemort raised his eyebrows. He had eyebrows now. He didn’t look like his face held any particular emotion however, not even curiosity. Stone mask with merely raised eyebrows.

“You won’t be given anything in return. I don’t bargain”

“I know I just…” Harry ran fingers through his greasy hair “I just really, really can’t…anymore. I can’t anymore.” He said, looking straight at Voldemort’s eyes. The man didn’t move, or avert his eyes, studying Harry closely.

“Master?” he heard another voice in the room. Ah, so the snake was here, must’ve slipped inside halfway through their conversation.

“What is it, Nagini?” Voldemort asked quietly

“The hatchling reeks with dark magic”

“I can tell” Voldemort leaned back, his gaze still on Harry who glanced at the snake now. He saw how her scales glistened in the fire, making her almost shimmer in a way. “I’m trying to understand why”

“Dark magic?” Harry asked, confused “What do you mean?”

Voldemort stared at him with open eyes, Nagini’s head snapping towards him instantly.

“Hatchling is a speaker?” Nagini hissed “Interesting”
“Impossible.” Voldemort said, changing to English “How can you know Parseltongue?” He asked almost accusatoryly now. 

“I-... I don’t know?” Harry shrugged a bit awkwardly “I just… Knew it. Used it to open the Chamber of Secrets and all…”
“You opened the chamber?” Voldemort seemed genuinely shocked by this information.

“Didn’t… Did seriously no one ever tell you?” Harry furrowed his brows “Yes, I did. Your basilisk tried to murder half the school.” Voldemort stared at him in silence “...You know… two years ago?... When Lucius gave Ginny the diary?....”

“I know about the Diary” Voldemort snapped. So it was still a touchy subject “But the chamber? No, no one told me.” He said, his voice taking a dark turn. Oh, someone will pay.

“Please wait with torturing anyone until I'm dead. I don’t want to see it.” Harry sighed “You seemed hell bent on killing me mere weeks ago, why are you hesitating now?”

“I’m not hesitating” Voldemort stood up “I know what I have to do, and you coming here on your own free will definitely makes it easier” He walked around the room, thinking about something intensely. Harry saw Nagini's head move left and right as she watched her master a bit…anxious? Worried? He couldn’t guess.

“Right…” Harry said slowly moving his gaze back onto Voldemort “So, what are we waiting for? Or do you want to make a big show out of it like last time? I came here hoping for a quick Avada if I’m being honest…”

“Oh trust me, no one will “Avada” you” Voldemort almost laughed. Nagini moved, seemingly sharing her master’s unrest. 

So Voldemort planned to kill him in a different way? Ah yes, it didn’t work best last time - Harry mused. He wasn’t really an expert at dark arts so he couldn’t really tell what wicked spell Voldemort had in arsenal for him, he just hoped it wouldn't be painful for long.

“Whatever, can’t we just… you know, just do it?” Harry shifted rubbing his hands, realizing they were all scraped. Seriously, what did he do tonight? His head hurt when he even thought about trying to remember.

“We can’t” Voldemort’s head snapped to him. “Harry, you have no idea what’s happening, do you?”

“How can you expect me to be an expert in your amazing plans?” Harry scoffed “Don’t make me guess and just get this over with!”

“How can you value your life so little?”

“How can you ask me that!?” Harry stood up abruptly “YOU of all people? Why WOULDN’T I want to die? I was insane for even thinking I’ll survive what you had for me but now I understand better. No, I can’t anymore. I just… I just can’t.” The anger evaporated quickly and Harry was suddenly scared. He was so scared whatever mind block was keeping him from his feelings would break and make him remember, make him stop from what he knew he had to do. “Please. Please for the love of all saints, finish up your job and kill me. Please…” He hid his face in his hands. Don’t break, don’t break, don’t break. He was so, so close, and yet memories, happy memories, memories of defiance and hope tried to push their way though. He couldn’t let it happen.

“Harry.” He heard the voice much closer now “Harry do you know why I wanted to kill you?” The past tense made Harry dizzy, but he couldn’t let himself accept the new reality.

“What?...” He asked quietly, feeling his hands trembling.

“There was a prophecy about you.” Voldemort said, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s arms. His mind barely noticed that “About us”

“A prophecy.” Harry parroted blankly. Something was coming and something he won’t like.

“It said that there will be a child born from parents who defied me thrice, and the end of July. That you will have the power to vanquish me.” Voldemort said slowly “I didn’t expect the prophecy to act this quickly. For you to banish me into oblivion as a mere babe. But I misunderstood the prophecy. Such… such a fool I was, I know that now.” Harry drank every word of Voldemort’s full lips trying to keep up, his brain starting to frizz “The blood ritual that rat performed, it could not work without specific requirements. My… reduced form, it didn’t have the clear mind I have now. Now I understand. I understand why it had to be you, why I never managed to kill you”

His fingers were brushing softly against Harry's skin.

“A soulmate, can’t hurt a soulmate” Voldemort finished quietly, looking at Harry in all seriousness. “I’ve wasted years chasing after the one who was destined for me, mistaking my obsession for hate, the soul I broke apart misleading the signal’s I couldn’t read correctly. That’s why I…” His fingers moved up and brushed against Harry’s scar which tingled under Voldemort’s cool touch “That’s why the ritual worked. That’s why you refilled my soul, making me stronger than ever.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry frowned, leaning away “Look, whatever delusion you have, I don’t care much. That prophecy, it was onto something if you’ve wasted years of your life on chasing a kid. Just do it”

“I can’t do it” said Voldemort touching Harry’s cheeks, making the boy realise they had to be bruised with how they stung. “I can’t and I won't. And neither will anyone else.” He spoke with almost feverish conviction, his red eyes glistening with hunger. “You’re mine, Harry. You have power to vanquish me, but only if I try to hurt you. And I never will again, not me, not anyone else.”

“What the hell are you talking about this time?” Harry pushed him away angry. Voldemort had let him take a step back, but there was still a couch pressed against his calves “Are you joking me? I’m not your soulmate! Do you know how rare soulmates are?! Are you this delusional? Did the guilt catch up to you and you finally went mad?”

“I’ve never been more sane, Harry.” Voldemort said calmly, raising his chin “I never understood what was happening better.”

“Well I don’t! I don’t understand!” Harry shouted now “If you won’t kill me then what good are you for?! You destroyed my life, sending one after another after me, making me live in fear and misery and… shit, things no kid should ever go through! Are you out of your mind!?”

“Harry, let me explain better-”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about reasons, explanations and whatnot!” He pushed Voldemort now, actively grabbing his robes and tugging the larger man. Aunt Petunia would make him sleep outside if she heard how dirty he could speak. Aunt Petunia…? Where… Where was aunt Petunia anyway?

He stumbled back, falling onto the couch. No, where was aunt? What happened to Dursleys? There was Hedwig there, where is she? What… What did he do?

He heard Voldemort say something but he couldn’t focus on any of that now. No, there was… Fuck, the memories, he couldn’t…

Next month, the letter said, what was it about? And from whom? Why did it make him break down like that? Oh… He broke down? He broke down, didn’t he…? Maybe… No, he couldn’t make anything out of it.

“Can’t you do one thing right in your life?” He didn’t know if he was talking to Voldemort or himself “Just end this… Just…”

The magic fuzzing in him. He didn’t know what was happening anymore. And soon enough, he didn’t know, or see, or hear anything anymore either.

Chapter Text

First he felt the weight on his chest. He thought he was underground, which made him panic but every feeling he had was dull and he felt almost forced to be calm. He opened his eyes.

There was a large material covering the ceiling above him. Draped canopy, perhaps. He was laying in a bed with such a soft duvet and pillows that could make Hogwart's house elves die of shame.

He tried to sit up, but the heavy shape on his chest prevented him from doing so.

“Rest, hatchling” hissed Nagini. Harry blinked slowly trying to gather any strength but instead of any anger or pain, he felt only this forceful calmness. “Your magic core was all over the place so Master fixed it” She explained, still looking like she’d rather go back to her nap and advise him to do the same.

“Core…” Harry repeated slowly. His tongue didn’t cooperate. He vaguely remembered last time he was conscious, but somehow it didn’t make him feel anything. “Did… did someone use a calming potion on me?” He deducted slowly.

“Hm…” Nagini rubbed her head against his chest like she was trying to pry herself under the duvet “You were given something but I don’t bother enough to be interested in that. But, if Master gave it, it was nothing harmful.”

Harry interpreted her answer as a yes. Potion or spell, he was under something that kept him from lashing out again.

“What are you doing?” he asked instead, looking  how she slipped slowly under the covers. Normally he’d be unsettled at best, seeing a giant snake that wanted nothing more than to rip him to shreds a month ago be so clingy. Normally.

“Soulmate thing” She sighed like it was inconvenient to her but she finally accepted it “Soulmates can’t sleep well without each other”

“And how is that connected to you?” He asked slowly, raising his sluggish hand to rub his eyes. He noticed they were clean and healed. Also, he was wearing some soft cotton shirt and pants. 

His mind worked like every thought was pushing through a soft, fuzzy slime.

“I carry part of Master’s soul” she hissed “Master split his soul so he won’t die unless we all do.”

This information slipped past his mind for now.

Harry sighed, closing his eyes again, feeling Nagini crawl under his shirt and finally settling on his bare chest. He could feel their warmth exchanging and against himself he had to admit it - he felt the pull.

It was a weird, foreign feeling, like his soul was being merged in the places their bodies touched. If he could, he would push Nagini away, stop this connection that felt way too intimate to be shared with anything ever barely related to Voldemort.

Yet here he was.

“How could we be soulmates?...” Harry asked, his voice barely audible.

“Old magic” Nagini sighed “I wouldn’t be bothered by human musings if I was not part of my Master. I do not know much.”

“Wizards don’t just wake up one day and decide they’re soulmates. Your “Master” is not in his right mind”

“Master doesn’t act hastily.” She said reserved, clearly displeased he was trying to discredit her Master, but too happy to lay on Harry's chest to do anything about it “He was thinking about his soulmate for as long as I served him. I suppose neither of us expected that his soulmate will be a hatchling”

Harry chose to not address what she said for his own mental health. How long will the spell work? 

“Are we still in Malfoy’s home?”

“No, Master moved us to his own residence.”

“The… Little Hangleton?...” Harry almost shuddered at the thought even despite the heavy barrier on his mind.

“No, his magic heritage lodge” Nagini answered vaguely, like a true familiar would. So they were god knows where. Great. “Sleep, hatchling” she rubbed her head again. Harry appreciated at least someone seemed to be somewhat calm and not a bloodthirsty deatheater here, even if it was a snake, and he was drunk on magic. He listened, and fell into deep slumber again.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

So close and yet so far - Voldemort thought, leaning back on the armchair in his study. He has done a lot of things in his life - messy things, ugly things, wrong things - Albus would definitely testament on that - but never before he felt the need to fix something.

This fact surprised him dearly. Never before did he mess up so badly he had to fix it, no, all of his actions were always balanced and leading to one goal - the power he craved and the power he deserved. If he could pinpoint one moment when everything went falling down with gut wrenching speed was when Snape almost crawled to him with the prophecy he overheard at Three brooms from a Seer Dumbledore seemed to respect.

What devil made him act so hastily? What made him so fixated on this specific prophecy?

He heard dozens of prophecies in his lifetime. Wizards who were more or less of a seer jumped and almost competed with one another - who will make more outrageous prophecy about the Dark Lord? Depending on one's political views the "prophecy's" content varied very much.

Was it because of the timing? Because he questioned how many horcruxes he created, because he started to reach the top and feared falling back down? Or was it because his soul - or the rest of it - knew that this boy in the prophecy was his other half, the one who will help him reach his potential, who will fill all the void in him?

Yes, perhaps that. If he focused hard enough he could shove all the blame to Snape, torture him, chop up his body and call it a day. But it wouldn’t change much - even when he wasn’t there, when his soul blindly looked for a new vessel, the mere memory of him terrorized not only the wizarding world, but Harry in particular. An orphan left behind, with a heavy burden of expectations on his shoulders, every year in Hogwarts hunted by the memory of the Dark Lord.

He had no clarity back then. Now he did. Yes, now he understood - after gathering his horcruxes and keeping them close, after the ritual with the use of his soulmate’s blood - he almost remembered how he was before. He felt timeless, truly immortal like he knew he was destined to be. Master of death, even if he never had all the insignias - no, he carved the title for himself with his nails, sweat and lots of blood.

He sighed, glancing down at the book on his lap. He already read it of course, but he wanted to prepare himself to perfection. After the graveyard, when he slowly began to reach mental and physical stability he could finally think - and he thought long and hard. He knew he needed Potter safe by his side - Salazar knows what the Order would do if they knew who Harry was to him.

This group of vermin cockroaches always seemed to survive no matter how much he crushed them. And he knew that Albus Dumbledore would sacrifice whatever he deemed right to reach his goal dictated by foolishness and senile dementia. 

Voldemort knew that they likely reformed again, with his comeback loud and proud announced by his soulmate. It wasn’t ideal but it looked like the government wanted to keep it down either way. He wondered just how easy would Fudge be to Imperio and the answer was - probably pretty manageable, worth a try.

But no, his power play could wait - now he had an unstable, suicidal teenager at hand he had to manage.

That’s what the book was about - reversing his mistakes. He tried to come up with all the ways he could manipulate Harry into trusting him and willingly staying by his side - and although most of them seemed less than moral, it wasn’t below him to try the proper approach first. While he couldn’t revive Harry’s parents - nor he saw a clear point in it - he couldn’t deny that some of his followers had to be taken care of – in the name of his soul’s pain. He still had years of Harry's history to catch up on, but his basic knowledge has led him already to a couple of interesting, particular conclusions.

First that came to mind, Peter Pettigrew. It wasn’t hard to make the man squeal and tell him all Voldemort wanted to know.

He knew that Pettigrew was friends with Potter’s father, and betrayed him out of fear - which never failed to amuse him even now. He made Sirius Black, another friend of Potter, into a serial killer and the man has spent years behind bars in Azkaban. 

He tried to save his life when Sirius escaped, but he and a werewolf called Remus Lupin almost stopped him.

Sirius was Harry’s godfather, the rat didn’t know if they had a good relationship now, but Voldemort presumed that yes - anything would be better than dirty muggles who were in charge of him.

Yes, there was also the matter of the muggles. The dirty little dipshits who were in charge of his precious Harry for fifteen years now. He didn’t know what possessed that old fool Albus Dumbledore to leave the most magical kid of the century - yes, he had to admit that - in a family of dirtiest muggle family in the whole England.

He had his followers run a background check on them right now - and on Harry’s whereabouts during the past few weeks.

When Voldemort saw him in that living room - looking so small and fragile like he could snap him in half with one hand, underfed, dirty, wet, with a bruised up face - he felt like his whole world would shatter any second now. Harry’s sudden appearance was surprising enough, but at the beginning Voldemort thought it was a good thing - maybe it was a trap or bargain and order made Harry negotiate, or he was just led by his misguided sense of justice like the martyr he is.

But no. No, it was worse. He broke Harry. He broke the one who saved him, and who Voldemort has hurt his whole life. It made Voldemort want to rip his heart out. 

His hand absentmindedly encircled the green pendant on his neck.

How could he be so dumb? How could he lead up to this? This - Harry begging him for death - was his own doing. 

He couldn’t lie - seeing fragile, broken things made the manipulator in him purr - it was much easier to wrap around his fingers those who craved saving. But Harry? No. Not him. 

Harry hated him to death, more than likely. With or without Dumbledore's influence, the mere fact Voldemort killed his parents made him Harry’s nemesis from when he couldn’t even talk.

He didn’t know how he would approach this particular issue yet.

“My lord?” he heard someone enter the study. It was Bellatrix, looking at him unsurely. Yes, Bellatrix was a perfect example of someone he had wrapped around his finger. “I’m sorry for the disturbance, I knocked but you didn’t seem to hear me…” she lowered her gaze submissively. 

He didn’t tell his followers that Harry was his soulmate, but he did of course make them look for him and if even hair fell off Potter’s head they would pay dearly. Safe and untouched, delivered straight to his door - that’s how he wanted him.

Bellatrix always fulfilled his orders to the tiniest details - now that he saved her from azkaban even more so, with worship in her eyes and wand flashing spells left and right when he ordered her. Rodolphus wasn’t much better, although he was the quiet type. He could sometimes see the jealousy on the man’s face, but any held anger wasn’t directed at his lord, and that’s all that mattered.

Sooner or later Voldemort will have to tell them Harry is his soulmate - in fact, publicly claiming Harry as his filled his battered soul with such strong feelings it stopped his train of thoughts completely.

“What is it?” He glanced at the woman at the door. He didn’t even feel particularly malicious today, which meant he must’ve been in really low spirits.

“We investigated the muggles house” she stepped inside, closing the door behind her “There were some aurors on the scene already but we managed to imperio one of them…”

“Get to the point”
“R-right” she cleared her throat “The whole house was filled with core sawdust, clearly after overheating. The aurors haven't managed to clear it up yet…”

“What about the muggles?” He rubbed his eyes. That particular information didn’t surprise him that much. Any wizard with some experience could feel this.

“They were transported to Mugo’s in catatonic state. They got hit with so much dark magic they dropped” she finished with an almost satisfactory smirk. 

Catatonic state - voldemort mused. Well, he’ll have to send Snape there and legilimens them, that will be the quickest way to know what happened.

“Oh! There was also a muggle boy” Bellatrix said “He’s their son. Aurors oblivated him and moved him to some foster family”

Yeah, let’s legilimens that one too…

“Thank you, Bella” he managed to smile slightly seeing her almost melt “Monitor Order’s actions. And how prophet will approach this thing”

“Yes, master” she nodded eagerly “Is…” she swallowed nervously “Can I be so forward and ask about…the boy?”

Voldemort tensed a bit but nodded slightly.

“What is it that you wish to know”

“Um…” she breathed out to calm herself “May I know why… Why did the plans towards the boy…changed?”

Voldemort sat in silence for a second thinking how much he is willing to reveal so far. Finally he looked up at her

“I’ve miscalculated. I made mistakes, understood that wretched prophecy wrong.” Bellatrix furrowed  her brows, a bit more pale on the face “The boy was never meant to be hurt. And I’m glad I realised that now”
“What… What do you imply, my lord?...”

“I imply… That the boy while being an important part of both my downfall and reaching the peak of my power… He connects all of it. He’s the answer. And I want to understand that answer fully, by keeping him by my side” Right. He didn’t wish to let out anything more for now but he gave Bellatrix a good enough understanding of the situation. If her brain even managed to connect the dots he wished her to see”

“I see…” He wasn’t sure if she indeed understood but he believed in her cognitive abilities “So… The boy is meant to be kept safe for now?...”

“Yes. And not ‘for now’, indefinitely” He answered coldly “He’s meant to be treated with as much care as I am treated. Apart from letting him leave, not one discomfort may reach him here. Is that. Understood?”

“Y-yes! Yes, My Lord” she nodded eagerly.

He relaxed a bit wondering if she wouldn't cause problems in the end. She could be jealous towards those he showed more appreciation towards, but never acted against his orders. Good.