A Change of Heart

Chapter One

The moment he touched the boy, Voldemort knew he'd blundered. And what was worse, it was caused due to ignorance. And that was unacceptable. Ignorance was not a trait either for Tom Marvolo Riddle or for Lord Voldemort. Ambition, yes; Hunger for power, yes; Cold-bloodedness, yes; but not ignorance. Never that.
However, it was too late to do anything about it. The magic had already slammed into him, more powerful and stronger than anything he'd felt ever before. He was caught in its web. The magic filled him, swirled around him; it was a whirlwind, tossing him like a leaf.
Logically, Voldemort knew it lasted only for the fraction of a second and did no damage. But it seemed longer. And his body, his newly regenerated body felt like every inch had been pummelled with a sledgehammer.
He drew a deep breath. It did not hurt. The physical pain he felt was not real. It was probably caused by the magic that he accidentally activated when he touched the boy.
The boy!
Voldemort looked at him. Harry Potter was staring at him, confusion evident in his eyes. There was surprise too. Apparently, the magic had affected him too. And he too could not understand what had happened and why. Which was not surprising really. How could this fourteen year old upstart understand what happened when he, Lord Voldemort himself did not!
Voldemort felt something move inside him as he gazed at the boy. The stirring of something he could not understand. He shook his head. The boy was going to die. But later. Right now, he had bigger things to do.
He laughed in the boy's ear as he rose, pulling the hood of his robe over his head.
"Wormtail!" His tone was imperative. But he noticed that his voice had changed. It did not sound high and cold. It sounded-human. It sounded like Tom Riddle. But he would worry about it later.
"My Lord!" Wormtail grovelled.
"Take Potter. Lock him in my father's room. Avery, take the body of that boy. And put that corpse in the same room."
Wormtail and Avery bowed low and scurried to obey.
"And come back here as soon as you are done! I have work to do before the night is out!"
"Yes, my lord, of course my lord," Wormtail was dragging the bound Potter towards the house. Potter, Voldemort was pleased to note, was struggling though he was bound. Good. It meant he was not too weakened. It meant he could savour the death of Harry Potter. Finally.
But first, he had to finish the story of his regeneration for his Death Eaters.