Disclaimer: Friendship, like credit, is highest when it is not used. -Elbert Hubbard

"There's nothing you can do, Harry-"

"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"

"it's too late, Harry-"

"We can still reach him-"

"There's nothing you can do, Harry... nothing... He's gone."

...a loud bang and a yell from behind the dais. Harry saw Kingsley, yelling in pain, hit the ground.

Bellatrix Lestrange turned tail and ran as Dumbledore whipped around. Wand raised.

...deflected it. She was halfway up the steps now-

scrambling up the stone benches... flashing out of sight... Once more he was surrounded by streaks of blue light... sprinting up the passageway... wand clenched tightly in his fist. A shield charm parried a nasty jet of red light, and an accompanying volley of curses, as he barreled through death eaters and into the atrium No more footsteps.

Silence.

She had stopped running.

His eyes frantically scanned the Atrium floor for signs of movement.

Nothing.

Head spinning and lungs gasping for air his harsh gasps for breath were the only sounds echoing off the marble floor.

Something sharp slammed into his back. A strangled gasp of pain left Harry, pitching forward, his hand automatically grasping for the wound between his shoulder blades, when a clawed hand gripped his hair from behind, tossing him backwards onto the marble flood, and forcing the blade further in.

Lestrange materialized in front of him.

'A Disillusionment charm,' he registered dimly.

He was on his back in the middle of the ministry floor, a knife in his back, another held to his throat.

"Going to kill me Potter?" she questioned, sparks of delight flashing in her eyes.

Harry laid there frozen. His hand still pinned behind him, sluggishly attempting to staunch the blood.

Eyes wide, struggling to breath against her weight on his chest, and the dagger slowly cutting a line of blood against his throat.

Gryffindor courage lost, he looked at her blankly.

"You can't kill me."

That was a lie.

Of course she could kill him. She'd made that obvious, but Voldemort would have her head for it. He wanted the honor of killing him himself.

Way things were going though, Harry wouldn't wager much on a witch who was clearly more than a tad touched in the head. Azkaban could do that to a person, if anyone would know he would, judging from all the time he'd spent with Sir- his mind lurched painfully.

"If you have a death wish go at it, pity I won't be here to see what He does to you." That Gryffindor courage, or stupidity, apparently hadn't reached his vocal chords yet.

Her grip on the blade faltered, her eyes blinked, and lost their edge, just for a second, she adjusted her grip, and eyes casting around the room nervously.

That second was all he needed.

Harry slammed his head forward, into her face, feeling her blade cut deeper into his neck, then hearing a satisfying crack that left Lestrange wheeling away. A shriek of rage and shock erupted from the witch's mouth.

Unwinding his hand from it's cramped position behind his back Harry twisted away from her, ripped the dagger out of his shoulder, slashing blindly at the raven haired woman.

It wasn't as bad as he'd thought, the blade had been slid upwards into his jacket and sweatshirt. Mostly.

Lestrange shrieked again, this time with more pain than rage, whipping her blade at him.

A warm gush of blood ran down his arm.

Adrenaline pumping he leapt at her, not bothering with spells or curses, she was out of weapons as far as he could see, slammed the witch's back against one of the pillars. Lestrange's head bounced off with a solid thump and this time it was his blade at the black haired witch's throat.

"Going to kill me Potter?" She repeated her earlier words, this time breathlessly, wild eyed, roving frantically across him and the atrium- catching on the fires, and on the floo powder next to them.

Blood was slowly trickling down his back, his head a tad fuzzy, mouth dry, Harry was really starting to feel the wounds on his shoulder and arm, they burned.

He blinked slowly.

Then jerked her hair violently away from the fires, bringing her attention back to his green.

"You've spent the last decade in Azkaban, you know there are things worse than death."

But why couldn't he kill her? He knew the spell, had seen it cast? She'd killed Sirius.

She'd killed Sirius.

Lestrange was mad.

No. She was a monster. Responsible for the deaths of countless innocent people.

He blinked again, slowly this time, something was wrong. He was having difficulty forming sentences, and his wand arm shook- this couldn't just be the blood loss. He felt cloudy... almost blank.

"Baby Potter doesn't know it," she whispered breathlessly her eyes lighting with cruel delight on his features and bringing him back to himself, "baby Potter doesn't know the spell. Can't even kill his precious godfather's killer. Tell me Potter, did you love him? Did you love my filthy blood traitor cousin?"

The blade shook in his hand, accidentally cutting a thin line on her throat. A single drop of blood trailed down his neck.

He ripped her black curls forward before slamming them back into the pillar again. "Don't you dare speak his fucking name." Harry couldn't even think it yet. Her delighted smile and breathless giggles in response did it.

"Crucio!" Harry wasn't even aware of a spell leaving his lips, never mind forming in his mind, the power welled up inside of him. His holly wand suddenly in his hand, knife abandoned, unforgivable on his lips. It gushed out the end of his wand, an awful sharp spell that seared the air around him

Bella screamed. If he hadn't experienced it himself last year, he'd have thought her throat was being torn apart, thrashing and writhing upon the Ministry floor, ragged nails splitting as they into polished stone.

The peacock blue walls above them seemed to shimmer in Harry's vision, his head pounded.

It was...delicious. Addicting. Head was running over his skin, and sending crackling sparks against the wall.

He'd heard dark magic was addictive but had never really believed it. But now an overwhelming giddiness flooded his veins, his wounds had stopped burning painfully, and Harry could swear he'd even stopped bleeding.

Lestrange had finally stopped screaming, but the echoes of it were still fading around them, they rang like bells on a church steeple.

He didn't remember lifting the curse.

Her wand leapt into his hand from where she'd been clutching at it weakly, still twitching at the curse's after effects.

Lestrange's eyes hadn't left him since she'd stopped screaming. Darkness stared at him, and her eyes felt like they were sinking into him, eyes that gave everything away.

Shock, fury, disbelief, fear.

Her eyes pulled him. His knees felt weak, and the pounding was back in his temples, the air felt heavy and he couldn't help but take great heaving breaths. It felt like he was gazing directly into her eyes from inches away, he could see every fleck in those dark eyes, dark eyes that reminded him so much of-

He could read her like a book, despite what Snape said, her thoughts came to him like words off the pages of the many tomes in the Hogwart's library. Tumbling and skittering at the edge of her mind, he couldn't look away, and it felt more like she was sinking into him than the other way around. He could see her, bits and pieces, feelings and emotions, pictures, and words. Maybe Snape had been right, he thought dazedly, struggling to make sense of anything. He was being slammed from all sides, her mind churned out dozens of thoughts into his. Her razor sharp reaction time she had, her plans for him, what she'd been planning if he tried the killing curse.

How she didn't believe he could ever successfully cast an unforgivable. Lacked the power, or the will, probably both she'd giggled to herself.

Words-thoughts of hers slammed into him.

"You have to mean them, Potter... you have to really want to cause pain- to enjoy it- I'll show you how it's done... give you a lesson shall I..."

Harry leaned down on the floor next to her, leaned over Bella's prone form on the icy Ministry tiles, the witch's body was still being racked by painful tremors.

"Your right Bella... you do have to mean them... to want to cause pain- to... enjoy it." Gryffindor caressed his wand down her face, her own thoughts tossed mockingly back at her.

"Give you a lesson shall I?" he repeated at her tauntingly.

Showed Bella her wand in his hand, as the tremors of the curse finally began to leave her body.

Ran a gentle hand over the hemlock wood, feeling the wand practically vibrate in his hand. LIke it just knew what he was about to do, Lestrange's eyes followed his every move.

Harry snapped it.

Bellatrix shrieked like banshee, horrified choked gasps coming from her mouth, yowling, and clutching at her hair as though he'd killed her child.

She launched herself at him, long yellow fingernails curled into claws, as though she intended to scratch his eyes out.
She didn't get the chance, his next spell had the her forced up against the fountains side. Her back pressed sharply against the frozen stone, the water inside the fountain had stopped flowing, ice had frozen it over. Somehow Harry had failed to notice that before.

Lestrange's eyes scrambled over him frantically, mournfully connecting with her broken wand, searching for an escape that wasn't coming, a weakness in Harry's defense that wasn't appearing.

He hexed her.

Channeling his magic forcefully through his wand, and directing it.

"Aquagamenti," he intoned.

It was closer to midnight than to morning and the Ministry would be empty and vacant for at least half a dozen more hours.

He had plenty of time, no need for shouting.

Bellatrix's eyes which had widened frightfully when he's brandished his wand towards her, relaxed at the incantation of his intended spell. That mocking glint returning briefly into the former Slytherin's dark eyes.

It didn't stay long.

Harry's intent fed the spell, and instead of Bella being doused in water the witch suddenly gasped.

Choked deep in her chest, her mouth working furiously, eyes growing as wide as a House elf's.

A low gurgling noise came from her chest, and she began to gag silently.

Large gasping breaths coming from her abdomen, the woman clutched at her throat.

"Wh-what, Potter?" she gasped out as water began to trickle from her mouth, slowly at first, and then faster coming in streams until the liquid was pouring out of her mouth and tears rolling down her cheeks.

To Harry's utter disappointment she didn't last long.

Falling unconscious almost as soon as they'd started a quick Enervate brought her back.

Life flooded back into her eyes.

"Such a simple spell, we both learned it in our second year if I recall correctly. Such a simple spell... but with such useful means."

Harry smiled.

Bellatrix was still coughing and gagging though, out of sheer annoyance Harry muttered an irritated, "Anapneo," to clear her airways of any residual water.

She spit water like a fount, dry heaving into the fountain.

The liquid, upon contact with the frozen water jerked once, and then crystallized. Becoming shards of ice, shards of being torn from Bellatrix's mouth in small ripping noises.

Harry waited patiently for the water to stop.

And when Bella finally turned back toward him he hit her with two jinxes in rapid succession, one of them was perfectly harmless, the Stickfast Hex, and the second was an Enlarging Charm.

"Colloshoo!"

Augeo!"

The first stuck Bella fastly to the stone fountains rim so Harry was able to stop pushing her against it with the continuous use of another charm.

The second charm, an enlargement charm, directed to her hand, towards her fingernails.

Her hand, which Harry delicately grasped in his own. Tracing her fingernails with the tip of his holly wand, watching detachedly as the spell took effect. However instead of enlarging the length of her nails forwards, they went backwards. The keratin nails shoving themselves backwards and into the flesh of Bella's hand, lengthening inside the witch's skin. Causing ripples to emerge on the top side of her fingers as the skin stretched upwards and muscle ripped inwards to make new room available for her own body's invasion.

Harry tucked her hand back down to her side, and lit his wand with a simple Lumos Solem, directed his wand once again, concentrating to slow the flow of energy to his wand.

To make the spell smaller, narrower, less overwhelming and wide.

Harry wanted it as strong as steel but as small as a Muggle needle's head.

It was a useful little spell, one that captured sunlight, and directed it to the wizard's own uses. The black robe's arm sleeve split, along with the thin long sleeve shirt under it, exposing the witch's arm to the freezing air that pervaded the Atrium.

The Hogwart's student directed his wand towards Bellatrix's arm, the following shrieks informed him that he'd met his target as the skin on the former Black witch's arm began to sizzle and burn.

Small shallow incisions appeared on her skin, nothing that couldn't be healed by a quick Episkey, but Harry knew enough about human physiology from Hermione to know the more continuous pain he caused the quicker her body would shut down to protect itself from the pain.

So he kept his cuts shallow, pausing every now and then to make sure she stayed conscious.

Random patterns now drawn in her skin he moved on.

He wanted to carve his name into her arm.

A permanent reminder.

Lestrange snarled at him, fighting uselessly against the sticking charm and jarring her arm in the process, causing his burns to transfer onto the fountain, melting some of the ice.

"Wingardium Leviosa," she rose curling uselessly in the air, when he levitated her a dozen or so meters above the fountain.

And dropped her.

Lestrange's body hit the ice with a satisfying crack, splitting the ice and sinking quickly down beneath the surface. The fountain was only few meters deep so the witch didn't have far to go.

But nevertheless, Harry made haste with quickly sealing the surface ice back up.

"Glacius."

Sitting on the fountain's edge he watched her black shape move beneath the surface, frantically pounding on the ice above her head. If Harry strained his eyes he could see bubbles swirling about her mass, trying to escape.

Someone began clapping.

Slow, loud claps that echoed off of the peacock blue walls of the Atrium, reverberating throughout the empty room.

He barely stopped himself from jerking upwards in shock, horror sliced through him, he hadn't even noticed that there was someone else in the room. Harry was even more shocked he hadn't felt the usual agony at Voldemort's arrival, and sickeningly relieved that it wasn't the Order who'd been watching.

All he could feel from Voldemort was surprise, still no pain... and a disturbing amount of delight. That wasn't what made his jaw drop and stand there like a witless gaping fool for several moments though.

Voldemort had hair.

And a face.

He was still tall with pitless red eyes but Riddle had a face. A face other than the snake-like one Harry'd been expecting.

Gone was the one that had come out of the cauldron nearly a year ago on that terrifying night.

Gone was gaunt ghostly white face, and the snake-like slits he had for eyes. His skeletally thin form had been replaced with a profile that more resembled an older version Tom Riddle from the Chamber of Secrets.

The nose that was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils had been replaced with an aquiline nose that actually resembled a human being.

The only thing that remained unchanged about Voldemort's appearance were his hands with longer slender fingers that gripped his wand loosely.

And those pitless red eyes.

Slowly feeling began to flood back through his veins, and Harry started to realize how cold the Atrium was, his hands were trembling a little, breath coming in nervous little puffs. He fisted them in his robe to hide them.

"Harry Potter... quite a position you've gotten yourself into."

Even his voice had changed-high and piercing had turned to deep and bass. Harry wasn't sure if that amused tone was a good. Amusement had never been a good thing in the past- it was usually accompanied by curses- but then again almost all of Voldemort's emotions seemed to end up there.

He took a deep steadying breath, tinges of fear making his wand hand want to twitch again.

"I didn't expect you to come in person." A pause,"Your followers were getting along smashingly downstairs."

Voldemort ignored his last remark.

"Have you been having fun with Bella? She's quite amusing on her good days."

"You interrupted." Was there a nervous catch in his voice, "it was impolite," what the bloody hell was he saying?!

"Dear Harry, you were torturing my servant, whom was being impolite?" Voldemort raised a single black eyebrow, but his eyes were amused not wrathful. Harry felt sick, Riddle never varied to far from the usual script of taunts and curses, this new territory somehow felt even more dangerous.

"You don't think she deserved it?" Don't fuck this up Potter.

Riddle laughed, it wasn't that cold high laugh Harry had heard a year ago in the graveyard, it was rich and deep, but just as cruel. And still sent a tremor down the Gryffindor's back.

"Oh, Harry I have no doubt in my mind that she deserved it... I'm merely surprised you defeated Bella at her own game... not many do that." He didn't sound surprised, or impressed.

A drop of sweat ran down his back, the icy shivers running over him weren't just because of blood loss, his breath was coming in white puffs. Now it was Harry's eyes catching on fireplaces and floo powder. He didn't know what game that Voldemort was playing but he'd been squashed enough times at chess by Ron to know when he was being played.

This had to be the strangest conversation he'd ever had in his life…

"You usually underestimate me." He must have a death wish.

Riddle looked like he might laugh again, "Yes, however you've displayed before me a certain... creativity that many of my followers..." his fell back on to Bella, "lack."

"Yeah, the Cruciatus gets old fast, quite frankly I was expecting more with how she goes on about being trained at your hand." Harry sneered. It felt odd.

"Yes, she has an amusing fixation with Muggle weapons- purebloods dabble, before returning to their wands believing themselves too evolved for them, never bothering to have the patience to truly master a form." Voldemort commented dryly, eyes flashing with amusement. He held his wand loosely, but watched the raven haired boy like a snake.

"Then what's the point," he demanded, "blanketing the area with Cruciatus until she fries some poor bloke's nerves and they stop feeling the pain," his mind flashes back painfully to Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom making his next words even worse, "and they end up being worse than useless anyway."

At some point after that out loud contemplation Harry became aware that Voldemort was staring at him contemplatively.

Bella had killed the boy's godfather. He'd wanted revenge. All so simple and boring motives, but with such a delicious outcome that no one else could have planned it better, except perhaps himself

Voldemort's scarlet eyes scanned him.

The Potter boy was broken, crumpled like a Muggle tin can. But not completely useless, he thought observing the Gryffindor speculatively. The boy still had his merits, and now, now the boy knew the prophecy. That fact, in and of itself, was more than enough reason not to kill him for the time being. He'd just become a lot more valuable, until he managed to regurgitate that prophecy. Bella killing Black could have been the best news yet.

The boy was waiting for a response, "Many of your housemates... and Dumbledore," here Voldemort's lip curled luridly, "may not agree with that assessment."

"I didn't ask for Dumbledore or my housemates opinion." The teen said flatly, "If I wanted that I'd lock myself up and save them the trouble."

One of Riddle's new eyebrows raised.

"By all means we wouldn't want to see that happen, now would we." Riddle said silkily.

"I was asking for your opinion?"

Gliding closer with a smirk curling around his lips the Dark Lord spoke again.

"Then I would have to agree with your assessment, however I can assure you my repertoire contains quite more creativity than my followers." his cruel smirk was practically begging to give Harry wanted a demonstration.

"You may want to release Bella from her position,"

Harry looked at him silently.

"Unless you truly mean to kill her." Voldemort continued, calling his bluff.

"Wizards and witches can survive more than muggles, but Bella has yet to master any significant wandless casting." Voldemort continued.

Harry was torn, unwilling to turn his back on the Dark Lord, and also wanting to give Lestrange up to the Aurors.

"Glacius."

The ice cracked open, and he levitated Bellatrix out, her body was limp and steamed as soon as it hit the warmer air outside the frozen fountain.

She wasn't dead- just unconscious. She'd been under for just over three minutes.

A warming charm and enervate later ensured she wouldn't die of hypothermia or develop pneumonia from any fluid in her lungs. Barely strong enough to breath, Bella- as Voldemort called her- wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

Voldemort practically flew her into one of the fire places, and she disappeared into the Floo System. Bitter disappointment filled the Gryffindor when he turned back to Voldemort.

"Why did you send me here?"

Harry'd been having dreams all year, he deserved to know. If Dumbledore still planned to ignore his every breath after this then for Merlin's sake the fucking Dark Lord had better tell him.

Riddle smiled thinly towards the child.

"I wanted the prophecy, I couldn't enter the Ministry myself so I sent you and your friends on a little mission to retrieve it for me." The assumption that the boy would cough up the prophecy was obvious, Potter wouldn't make it five meters without giving it to him. Not that the boy would be leaving even after surrendering it into his hands. Torturing Bella had been an amusing distraction but he'd waited fourteen years to be rid of the boy, his focus wouldn't sway now.

"What makes you think I have it?"

The boy was deflecting. Riddle could feel his first stirrings of rage.

"I've waited longer than you've been alive to hear it," circling closer, "do you truly believe you're able to withhold it from me?"

The boy never got the chance to answer.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," Dumbledore had appeared out of nowhere, "the Aurors are on their way."

Not a single word escaped the Dark Lord, the man didn't even direct a glance toward Dumbledore, or seem surprised by his sudden appearance.

His eyes remained locked on Harry, red irises burning into him and pressing against his mind. His meager barriers shredded like tissue paper. Voldemort's presence in his mind was painful, but not agonizing as he'd come to expect from the multitude of dreams over the past two years or his encounters with Snape. Instead the Dark Lord's presence had been... like a mental embrace. A shudder went through him. The sensation of someone running their hand through his hair. Harry could feel the Slytherin inside of him, in his head.

A message.

It had only lasted seconds, but already, along with Voldemort's mental presence his physical presence had disappeared as well.

The man had gone.

And along with him went the Ministry's wards, wards that felt just as ancient as the ones on the Hogwart's grounds. These were the wards which had protected the Ministry from any physical and forceful invasion for over a millenia. He'd later find out that Voldemort's seemingly innocuous conversation with him had been intended as a distraction to give him time to take down the Ministry wards. Voldemort had shredded the ancient wards in the three minutes Harry'd held Bella under the ice, Harry had merely been a distraction. After being gone in a manner of seconds. The ancient wards had been left ravaged in his wake and torn to shreds like strips of clothing left to scatter in the breeze.

Harry felt naked underneath the Atrium ceiling. Unlearned and ignorant of this magic, but still able to feel the sporadic aftereffects.

The breaking of the wards, the abrupt popping arrival of the Aurors apparting in as they heard the Ministry alarms sounding. With the aurors also came the the Death Eaters appearing by the dozens.

For every one of the Ministry's appearing there were three of Voldemort's touching down right next to them. Wand to wand they fought ferociously under the Death Eaters strong assault, the bright flashes of light lit up the defenseless Ministry. Key members of the Wizengamot were being assassinated all around England, and top Ministry officials were having their homes set alight with their entire families trapped inside.

Voldemort's second debut into the Wizarding World happened in at three o'clock in the morning, this re entry into the world of magic was accompanied by calls for reinforcements on the Ministry's side and the slaughtering of over seventy-five witches and wizards.

With such a small magical population the Dark Lord hadn't planned a massive full scale attack on any major wizarding cities, Voldemort wanted to purify the magical world, not commit genocide, there'd be no wizarding world left for him. There would be deaths, but none of them unwarranted for the cause.

So it was on that June night in nineteen ninety-seven at three o'clock exactly in the Atrium of the Ministry that Voldemort took over.

It wasn't an especially large battle, this was more of a strategic if not political move.

The sacrifice of a few pawns on the Dark Lord's part for the white queen.

The Minister was dead.

The Ministry had fallen.

The Light Side's players were crippled.

The Dark Lord's reign had begun.

All Hail the Dark Lord.