Disclaimer: I do not own the story, characters or any other part of the Harry Potter series. I recognize and understand that Harry potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and I am making no money off of this piece.

Third story. Voldemort/Harry

Crazy. That's what they called him. They said the stress of the war had gotten to him, thrown him for a loop and spat him out scrambled and overcooked. But it wasn't the stress, and there were those who knew it. They were the ones who cried fake tears and lamented the loss of their best friend. Hermione said that she had tried her hardest to help, attempt to make school work easier for him. Ron said he tried to help him loosen up, played chess and quidditch with him. Dumbledore said he tried to give him a childhood despite the approaching war. But to them he was a monster to be played with, a creature of pleasure that once denied its source of life would dwindle down into insanity, and then death.

To them he was a monster, a creature, a freak (it was odd to think that he was a freak to what the Dursley's called a freak) for he, like his father before him, was an incubus, and to them…he was nothing, not even Harry. And Harry was all he ever wanted to be.