Voldemort / Harry One Shots

Chapter 2: A new feeling

I'm sorry but I just love the graveyard scene. It has so much potential. So...more:

Fear was something Harry was used to. It had always been lingering inside his head. A feeling in the back of his mind so constant that he would probably feel alone if it wasn't there.

Growing up in constant fear had made him unresponsive to most things people commonly feared. That included being threatened by violence or being threatened to get killed. Most commonly by his own family. Preferably, by his uncle.

So when that pale body rose up from the cauldron, turning into the Dark Lord himself, Harry wasn't merely as impressed as he should be.

And Voldemort did sense that.

He expected the young man to be shivering and screaming. Crying for help or pleading to be left alive, but none of that happened. Instead, the black-haired Gryffindor just stood above his father's grave and looked him directly into the eyes.

Voldemort, honestly, was very taken aback by that. What a weird behavior for someone who just basically got tortured. Wormtail had cut his arm open, used his blood for the ritual, and left him hanging in a very unpleasant position.

"Harry Potter...the boy who lived.", Voldemort opened his mouth. His words still raspy but powerful enough to send chills onto everyone's spines on the graveyard. His Death Eaters bowed down to him like he was God himself.

But Harry didn't. In fact, he just kept quiet.

He wanted to ask the boy why he wasn't afraid. But that would make him look ridiculed in front of his followers. Instead, he decided to take some quick steps, stopping just a few inches away from his enemy.

Voldemort lifted up his hand, hovering right above the lightning-shaped scar. It looked inflamed. It should cause the young Gryffindor pain. But he did not flinch. He didn't even flinch when the dark Lord pressed his finger onto his skin.

Pictures flooded the dark Lord's mind. Pictures of a lonely boy. A beaten boy. A boy like himself, when he was younger.

He lifted his finger. The memories stopped. Voldemort glanced into his enemys face. Hollow green eyes stared back at him.

"I think it is time for you to rise against the men who wronged you", he whispered, trailing an invisible line down to his cheek.

Harry expected to feel pain, when Voldemort entered his mind, but he didn't. Instead, it felt like as if someone pulled the plug on all the suppressed emotions and memories and drained them out of him. Leaving him with a feeling of...lightness.

Dumbledore had warned Harry about Voldemort. But Voldemort wasn't anything Harry imagined. Yes, he looked like a nightmare come true, but the nightmare wasn't his. The nightmare turned out to be a dream. A dream Harry had secretly hoped for all along. Someone who could look into his mind, feel what he feels, and sense what Harry most desired. Freedom.

"I can give you that Harry Potter.", he heard the Dark Lord soothing his aching mind.

And for the first time, the feeling of fear vanished. Leaving behind an open spot for something Harry never dared to think about: Revenge.