Compulsion | Harry Potter and Voldemort Mpreg |

Compulsion {Chapter 3}

Defiantly not the way his summer would go. His escape plans all turned into burnt hands and an amused Voldemort. Windows, even on the 2nd floor had the curse. Now he knew that at least. The patterns of the weeks haven't changed. Death Eater meetings in the mornings, afternoons training then lunch and the library or wandering after dinner.

But it was during dinner when things got interesting. Every day without fail, Voldemort would ask a question. Harry would stare at him in thought. The questions were all the same, asking about the Light. Dumbledore. His friends. It unsettled Harry how the questions made sense.

How could Dumbledore have not known the very Dark Lord was on the back of his teachers head?

Lockhart? Really?

How could he let 3 first year students go after the Philosophers Stone? Or into the Chamber of Secrets?

The one that got Harry the worst, how could he have let Sirius go to Azkaban?

Now, sitting in the middle of yet another meeting (Doesn't he get tired of seeing these people?) Harry watched the people who sat around the table. He may have been questioning Dumbledore and his choices, but that didn't mean these people were any better...right? But who knows how many people Dumbledore has let die because of his 'Greater Good'. Harry shook his head. Now was not the time to be having such thoughts. Even if it's true, he still has a job to do. Kill Voldemort. Why should you kill a man who has been more truthful with you then anyone in your entire life has been?

"Potter? Do you feel well? You're looking pale."

Harry looked over at Voldemort and the table then blushed. Everyone was staring.

"I'm fine. Just thinking."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow and nodded before turning back to the meeting. He had notice the look on the boy's face, one of internal debate. A wicked grin threatened to form. So the boy was thinking about what he had been telling him? Wonderful. This would be easier then he thought. That old fool had been doomed from the beginning. His lies would be his downfall and the Dark Lord's gain. The boy was showing progress in his defensive skills and soon would be ready for the darker curses. When he is, he'll be a formidable wizard and a great asset.

Now that he had the boy questioning the old coot, to bring him to his side completely. After the meeting had ended he turned to Harry.

"Potter."

"What?"

"What is it you sit and think about during my meetings?"

Harry lifted his eyes from the table to stare into the dark red ones. "What I want for dinner." He replied with a smirk.

The Dark Lord sneered. "Don't give me that brat! Answer truthfully."

He sighed. "I think about what you've been asking me."

It was Voldemort's turn to smirk. So he was right. "Wonderful. So, what have you come up with?"

"Nothing I'm willing to tell you."

Voldemort sent a stinging hex to the boy. Harry yelped and glared. "Hexing me isn't going to make me tell you!" He crossed his arms. "You may have some good points. But that doesn't mean I'm joining you anytime soon!"

"Really?"

"Yes!"

The Dark Lord paused. "Have you ever sat and listened to the meetings? You may learn something." Voldemort stood and leaned close to Harry, his lips just touching his ear. "Tonight's question: The Dursley's. I heard some things from the youngest Malfoy. You would think the Light would want to make sure their little Savior is being treated right. Not to have him starved and locked away in a cupboard. Why didn't anyone ever check on you? Wards should or could have let them know something wasn't right. A simple visit could have spared you such a childhood. Why didn't Dumbledore spare you a glance in the 10 years you were there before Hogwarts." He stood up with a smirk at the desperate denial on the boy's face. Chuckling, he made his way towards the door. "Oh, and surly you have scars and other things from your time. You've been to the Hospital Wing. They would have found out but why didn't they do anything?" Another smirk and he left the room.

Harry sat shaking his head. No. No. Dumbledore couldn't have known! He...he would have stopped it. Wouldn't he? Of course not. Voldemort is right. You've had scars and Madame Pompfrey has seen them. Sure, you've lied. I fell. It was an accident. But when you come in year after year with new ones and broken bones that never healed right, malnutrition every year. It's to be noticed. Right?

Why wouldn't anyone check on him? Assume he had a nice childhood? Harry scoffed. Of course not. Let's drop the kid off and hope he comes out alright! No. Harry shook his head. It was on purpose. He knew it. Why else? It was Dumbledore. His fault. Everything was his fault. Keeping things from him, pushing him, not protecting his student when it's his job.

Harry stood and walked back to his room. Still regardless if Dumbledore was at fault, he still wasn't going to join the Dark. Neutral. He'd be neutral. Fuck Dumbledore and fuck the Light.

Walking into his room, he shut the door and locked his to sit on his bed. Listen to the meeting? All they talked about was how horrible muggles and mudbloods were. There wasn't anything important to talk about or listen too. Still, listening to them is better than wallowing in anger.

Grabbing a book he had stolen from the library, Harry lay back on his bed and read. Tomorrow. He'd actually pay attention. Who knows, maybe he'll learn something interesting.