BY : ArtisticRae
Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort
Dragon prints: 8899
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. This fanfic is purely for entertainment purposes and no profit is being made.

“Robe me,” he commanded, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning and still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, and pulled the robes one-handed over his master’s head before collapsing once more onto the dirt.

Lord Voldemort emerged triumphant from the cauldron eyes never leaving his fated nemesis who struggled futilely against the ropes that bound him to the gravestone.

He took not the slightest notice of Wormtail, who lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, nor of Nagini who circled the grave site impatiently.

Lord Voldemort looked away from Harry to explore his new body. His fingers were longer than they had once been, more skeletal, and his skin was unnaturally pale. A cursory examination of his face alerted him to the flattening of his nose and the slit nostrils that remained. He made a moue of distaste as he suppressed his regret for the loss of his true form. This, after all, was better than being a formless vapor. He would make content with this and strike terror into all who saw him henceforth.

His eyes flicked back to Harry, who was watching his movements in muted horror. A cruel smile twisted his snake like face as he addressed his captive foe at last.

“You stand upon the remains of my late father, a muggle and a fool, much like your mother. But they both had their uses did they not? As you have seen tonight my father’s bones have been instrumental in my resurrection, and unknowing gift on his part but a great one. Your mother one the other hand gave her very life for you. She died to protect you. Old magic that I was foolish to ignore at the time. Her sacrifice gave you a protection that not even the killing curse could breach. Unfortunately for you my father’s parting gift will prove to be of more lasting usefulness. You see with your blood flowing in my veins your mother’s protection is nil. I can touch you now.”

Voldemort accented this last statement by running his finger mockingly along Harry’s cheek. Harry squirmed beneath his touch, but there was no pain. Voldemort smirked at his own genius.

“May I eat him now Master?” Nagini hissed.

Voldemort smirked and turned to reply to his familiar when the boy hissed back.

 I’d give you indigestion.”

Voldemort’s eyes shot back to Harry.


The boy had the temerity to raise his eyebrow at him. He huffed angrily but elaborated.

“How is it possible that you speak parseltongue. I would have known if the Potter’s were descended from Slytherin and you obviously can’t have gotten the skill from your mudblood mother.”

“You.” The boy dared to look bemused in the face of Voldemort’s rage. “I got the gift from you. You gave me some of your powers the night you failed to kill me. Dumbledore told me himself.”

“Show me.” Voldemort commanded. Before the boy could even ask what he meant Voldemort had already cast, “LEGILIMENS!” and delved into the boy’s mind.

The mind was a disorganized mess. Clearly the boy hadn’t had even the barest beginning of any training in the mind arts and as such he wasn’t able to put up even a weak defense against the Dark Lord’s intrusion. He sifted through the boy’s memories until he found the one the boy had likely been referencing.

The boy was younger. He looked about 12 and he was covered in blood and filth and was standing in one of the Professor offices at Hogwarts.

“Professor Dumbledore...Riddle said I’m like him. Strange likenesses he said…”

“Did he now? And what do you think Harry?”

“I don’t think I’m like him! I mean I’m a Gryffindor…” The boy stopped for a moment and seemed to gather his resolve. “Professor, the sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin. Everyone has believed that I was Slytherin’s heir… because I can speak parseltongue.”

“You can speak parseltongue because Lord Voldemort, who is the last remaining ancestor of Salazar Slytherin, can speak parseltongue. Unless I am much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do I’m sure…”

“Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?

“It certainly seems so.” Dumbledore finished gravely.

Voldemort froze in momentary horror. Could Harry Potter truly hold a piece of his soul? Did Dumbledore understand the significance of this. Did he know about the horcruxes? Voldemort frantically searched the boy’s mind for other relevant memories.

He watched the boy’s interactions with his diary self, the slaying of the basilisk, the stabbing of the diary with a basilisk fang, the delivery of the destroyed diary to Dumbledore. Dumbledore’s complete lack of bafflement.

'The old man knew. He knew what the diary was. He knows what the boy is.' Voldemort’s mind was racing with new possibilities, new contingencies. New problems.

‘The boy can never die. My soul must be safeguarded. My diary fragment must be recalled.’ These three things he had resolved before he even left the confines of the boys mind.

He emerged from the boy’s mind to find Wormtail pale and bleeding out on the ground.

“Master please, you promised.” The rat moaned pitifully.

Voldemort glanced at him disdainfully. The rat knew too much, had seen him in an unguarded moment. It wouldn’t do. Voldemort brandished his wand and with a quick AVADA KEDEVRA  Wormtail collided with the ground, face frozen in shock.

The boy was still cringing from the pain of the assault on his mind.

“Are you going to kill me now?” The boy asked through gritted teeth.

Voldemort walked closer to the boy and brushed the sweaty fringe off his face, his thumb brushing purposefully across his curse scar, and replied.

“Death will never touch you, my precious Horcrux.”

The boy’s eyes widened in surprise or alarm, but before he could ask anymore questions Voldemort had already stuck him with a non-verbal SOMNUS. Harry sagged unconscious against his bindings.

He sliced the boys bindings causing him to fall unceremoniously onto the ground. Voldemort wandlessly levitated him to chest height and grabbed him in a princess hold.

“Come Nagini, we have much to do before today ends.” He hissed to his familiar who obediently slithered around his right leg.

With one last glance at his father’s desecrated grave Voldemort turned heel and with a CRACK they were gone.

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