Seeing the boy, that was supposed to be the possible death of me, in such a state was disturbing to say the least. I myself have never put much stock into the fact that Harry Potter could be so powerful. His lack of experience and control led me to going after him so many times before without thought of any possible risk. It all should have worked in my favor. Underestimating that experience wasn't the only factor that made another wizard a threat was my ultimate downfall more than once.
I should have realized this much sooner. After all, I was a threat to Dumbledore from the second we met and I was half his age. Dumbledore saw the raw untapped power in me and took precautions with that fact as soon as I entered Hogwarts. Had he done the same with this child?
I was like Potter once, before I entered the Wizarding world. Uneducated, unruly, controlled by emotions and magic. The same things that made Dumbledore fear me, made the old man thrust the responsibility of destroying a Dark Lord in the hands of a teenager.
Those few years before I entered Hogwarts, and gained some charge over my magic, were filled with the same sort of issues Potter seemed to be experiencing now. Disjointed time and space, everything seeming unreal and too real all at the same time. The magic manifesting at odd moments affecting my moods and the need to harm others; though Potter seemed inclined to harm himself. The differences between Potter and myself seemed so small and...insignificant. He finds no need to rise above others, academically or otherwise like I did. Potter seems to have the need to prove he is the same as the scum that did this to him. While I spent my entire life trying to prove I was better then them all. Potter's relatives may very well have had something to do with that.
I am a master at hiding my emotions from others. My followers especially. But when I heard that small rhyme come out of Potter's mouth, I visibly froze. Inside I was seething with anger and confusion that I only just managed to keep subdued.
Those words had been mine. Repeated every summer for six years after. Somehow this boy had gleamed moments of my childhood no one but myself could know. How connected were he and I exactly? I knew that I had glimpsed scenes from his childhood, in my dreams, but I would never dwell on them. Did Potter know that those words were mine?
Without fully knowing what I was doing I storde over to the brat and gripped his face in my left hand, a little too tightly, before I looked him square in the eyes and asked in Parseltongue "Where did you hear that?"
His emerald eyes seemed to gain some of their former brilliance, the fog around his mind seeming to lift at my contact. "Saw it in a dream," The boy replied back in Parseltongue before changing into English. "Why doesn't it hurt?" His eyebrows were screwed into a confused frown.
It took me a moment before I realized what he was implying. My presence no longer caused him pain? I narrowed my eyes and without warning entered Potter's mind. There was no resistance, no reproach. He was allowing me inside. Letting me see the truth. There was no pain, but there was fear. Fear of having someone know him as intimately as I could. Fear of allowing someone inside his deeper, darker thoughts.
I slowly withdrew. Realizing I was still holding the boy's face I released him and took a few steps back. I stared. The sanity that caused his eyes to sparkle in the low light of my office slowly dimmed and glazed. His body began to sway again.
"Severus," I said not looking away from the swaying figure in front of me.
"Yes, My Lord?" my two closest advisers had remained silent during the entire confrontation. That was one of the reasons I trusted them so much. They knew when to keep quiet and leave well enough alone.
"Top middle drawer of my desk," I said simply, gesturing with a negligent hand. Severus complied without complaint or acknowledgment and took out the only object that lay within; Holly, 11 inches, supple, with a phoenix feather core, brother wand to my own. "Give it to him," I said unconsciously clutching the wand that was concealed within my robes. Up to this point Potter had been unarmed. I didn't think that the boy was smart enough to fake this insanity but one could never be too careful or cautious.
Third Person (More like from all three Deatheaters point of view but without the personal pronouns associated with it)
Harry didn't look up until Severus lifted the boys hand. The green eyes focused on his own palm as the wand was laid atop it. The boy smiled and gripped it before swishing it and setting off a few sparks of yellow light. Not a spell, but a display parents often used to entertain their children.
"Mr. Potter I need you to use a few innocuous spells. That should help your mental faculties to reorient themselves," Snape said as Lucius strode over to stand between the teen and his Lord.
"Alright, Wingardium Leviosar," Harry intoned, pointing his wand at the lamp on the desk. Instead of the lamp levitating the whole desk did, which in and of itself was quite remarkable given that Wingardium Leviosar had a weight limit of about ten pounds. No one in the room commented on that fact though. Potter didn't seem to realize the implications. He just looked annoyed at the fact the spell hadn't lifted the lamp like he wanted.
"Finite," Potter whispered once the desk was as close to the floor as he could get it and then used his wand to transfigure a few items around the room into animals and back again. Potter didn't seem to have much talent for the art of transfiguration since each spell did only what was expected.
After about twenty spells first year spells Potter stopped casting and seemed to tense as he slowly turned around to look at the other three in the room. His eyes wide and blinking rapidly. "Sir?" Harry said to Snape moving slightly into his shadow.
"Do you remember anything that has happened in the last few days Mr. Potter?" Snape asked allowing Harry to hide himself from the Dark Lord and Lucius for the time being.
"It's all kind of fuzzy. I remember seeing things and hearing words and being warm and..." Harry faltered and looked shiftily between the three men before continuing. "Nothing much more than that," Potter was hiding something. They all knew it. Whatever it was made a tinge of red enter his cheeks.
"You have been here for nearly a week. You slept for a full two days before waking, you were very...incoherent," Snape began to explain.
"You heard me," Potter said suddenly pointing at Voldemort "You took me from the Dursley's."
Voldemort seemed a bit wary but responded. "That I did," Voldemort answered the question that was sure to come after. "You asked to be saved and it aided my purposes to do so."
By this time Harry was really confused but hearing Voldemort speak truthfully about why he saved him somehow eased his mind. At least he wasn't lying to him. Deatheaters may be manipulative but he hadn't known any of these men to lie to him without due cause and even then it was more by omission than anything else. It was strange that he trusted them that much to know that they wouldn't lie, unlike Dumbledore and his friends who lied to him on a regular basis.
Harry moved away from the comforting presence of his Potions master, trying not to dwell on the fact that he had just thought of the Head of Slytherin as comforting. "So, what are your plans for me then?"
AN: I realize the update for this short and long overdue but my muses seem to be tapped for this storyline. This is the last of what I have for this. Though since I was working on it today and depending if I can get some inspiration that may change. All the fans of this story are wonderful and I hop to continue on with this but there are no guarantees. If anyone is interested in adopting this fic or adding in their own ideas I am more than willing to listen to ideas and add them to the story or give someone else an opportunity to take over.