~o~

Chapter 2

Voldemort

Voldemort paced around his study, clearly displeased. What was taking so long? Should he even bother to force himself into his snake's mind and see what she was up to? He decided it was best to leave it, his familiar knew well enough not to disobey him. Still, Voldemort found himself wondering what he would do with the boy once he got here. The famous Harry Potter would be in his possession. Dumbledore would be informed, no doubt, and the blasted Order would suspect him entirely. Not without good reason, he mused, a smile lurking on his face. He most certainly was the culprit for Harry Potter's sudden and tragic disappearance from his pathetic muggle home.

He stopped walking and watched in idle amusement as the fireplace suddenly turned a resounding green and a figure collapsed to his knees after being thrown across the room. Nagini appeared not long after, hissing in distaste, slithering back under the bed for comfort after a tiring evening and still no food. Voldemort ignored her completely and crept silently up to the boy with black hair who was panting in obvious pain. The boy groaned and clutched his broken arm, remaining on the ground, and Voldemort stopped once he had reached a reasonable distance.

"I see you are as well as ever, Harry."

The boy lay still at the sound of his name, shaking, as Voldemort was pleased to notice. He also noticed that he held his wand in a light, flimsy hold and with a gasp from the figure below it flew into Voldemort's outstretched fingers. He stared at such a weak defense of his power. Did the boy know nothing?

Inspecting the wand that had caused him so much trouble just a few months ago, he pocketed it into his robes for safekeeping. He would examine it later. And besides, he needed to...

"Stand up, Harry, and face me," he said coldly to the child who was crumpled before him.

And just like that, no extra encouragement needed, just like in the graveyard when all hope was lost, Harry Potter stood with a defiance all too Gryffindor for his own good. He struggled a little, due to his broken arm, but his eyes burned with hatred. As Voldemort looked towards that infamous scar, so powerful in meaning and yet so dangerous, he remembered the price he had paid to lay it on him. He wanted to touch it, see what reaction he could provoke. It was...curious, he couldn't deny, the connection they seemed to share. He wanted to... find out its meaning.

Voldemort pulled out his yew wand slowly and saw to his delight Potter's eyes roam his movements wearily. So he expects to be killed. Only natural. He had taken the boy rather forcibly tonight. And death was the only thing he had ever promised Potter since their first meeting all those years ago. Still, it made him unconsciously angry to see him flinch and bear the obvious signs of nervousness as he silently prepared for the worst. He decided on a whim to enlighten the boy now rather than later like he had previously planned.

"I am not going to kill you, Harry, like you so unwittingly believe."

Voldemort saw those green emerald eyes light up in an almost skeptical way. He saw the boy frown, then gather what was left of his trembling demeanor, rubbing unconsciously at his arm, before replying in a simple statement to his confusion.

"But... why?"

Voldemort openly laughed which caused Harry to shiver once again.

"I have no desire to inform you, at least, not right now." he paused, then his eyes narrowed in a vicious sort of red, "Let me just say that it is my choice whether you live or die, and that choice is left entirely up to me."

He stalked forward, leisurely, deliberately slow, savoring the power he had over the child to make him so fearful of his very presence. Not that he didn't have that effect on everybody, but it was oddly... pleasing to see it in Harry Potter, his supposed nemesis and downfall, everything connecting them causing Voldemort immense satisfaction simply because he knew it had the opposite effect on the boy. After announcing that he wouldn't kill him, he could see the child was visibly dazed, as though his life's purpose had been suddenly ripped from him. He could also tell the boy was in pain by the flaring of his scar, red and raw against his forehead, openly bleeding from the pressure... how interesting.

He now had Harry backed up against the wall, and when he realized he had no where else to run, he saw him look up into his red, red eyes and wondered in genuine curiosity as to what the boy was possibly feeling. Hopeless? Scared? He didn't have to delve into Potter's mind to see the look those eyes gave him just beneath the surface.

They stood for a few moments in silence, and Voldemort could practically feel Potter growing more and more tense, every ounce of his willpower devoted to staying awake and conscious. He purposefully delayed their inevitable talk by stalling, causing sweat to bead down Harry's neck. But alas, he gave in, due to his impatience and wanting to move on with the matter.

"I will keep you alive Harry, for my own reasons, but know one thing: I will not tolerate disobedience from you, especially from you, and know that I will never hesitate to punish you, publicly or privately, because you have disobeyed me. Is that understood? You are completely at my mercy, Harry, and it is my decision as to what I do with you from now on. Your freedom ends tonight."

The boy looked down, and for a moment Voldemort thought he saw resignation in his eyes, before Potter looked back up and snarled.

"You think you can just do whatever you want with me?" the boy all but hissed, "Take your filthy lies and just kill me then!" Harry screamed, anger coursing though his body and causing the Dark Lord to step back and stare, "If I'm at your mercy then just do away with me! Who would want to obey you? I'd rather die!"

He should have known the boy was too stupid to give in to his fate so easily. He would probably fight Voldemort all the way and then some. Voldemort pulled his wand up, causing Potter to shut up immediately and he narrowed his eyes menacingly. When he spoke next, it was with a cold, emotionless voice.

"I'll have you know, Harry, that I expected no less from you. It's in your nature to defy and resent me. But I warn you now, do not test my patience. You will obey, whether that be by your own volition or another entirely, you will follow my demands."

"Who would–"

"But Harry" he paused, seemingly searching his mind for an answer, "for now, I think it's about time you went to sleep."