The Anti-Heroine || A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter LXI

CHAPTER LXI:

Voldemort's POV:

"I can't decide whether to be more impressed or annoyed," the Dark Lord commented idly as he placed that morning's rather surprising copy of the Daily Prophet down on the table before he could accidentally set it on fire. "Though I do suddenly have the overwhelming desire to go and punish several filthy muggles for touching what isn't theirs."

"They could have at least given us some warning," his breakfast companion, 'Tom', replied, looking immensely frustrated as he did so. Voldemort looked at the younger soul-part in amusement as 'Tom' scowled darkly at the table where his own copy of the newspaper had been tossed.

He wondered if his Horcrux realised just how transparent he was being in this moment and, not for the first time either, felt a flicker of... perhaps unease as he was confronted with evidence of the depth of affection involved in that little trio. He disliked affection as a rule; he didn't mind it directed towards him, as such, and in fact rather enjoyed manipulating the power dynamic such an occurrence created. He did, however, mind being around people who felt such emotions for each other; affection made people unpredictable in the most unpleasant of ways– Lily Evans and Severus Snape were two prime examples of such... incidents.

He questioned at just how deep the attachment (he refused to call it affection) his creation had to the Potter boy ran– and if he should start growing concerned. While he'd like to think that a piece of his own soul would never think to place another above them or choose someone else over him(self), Voldemort knew far better then to fall into that trap. To trust nobody was to survive, to do otherwise was just asking to be stabbed in the back; as a part of his soul, 'Tom' would understand that just as well as he did.

"You realise Dumbledore is going to use this as an opportunity?" 'Tom' asked abruptly.

"Oh I do," Voldemort nodded. "And I intend to let him."

"Let him?" 'Tom' repeated incredulously. Ah child, Voldemort sighed internally. This was the second most irritating aspect of attachment (affection); the unwillingness it created to sacrifice other pieces on the board. It made life infinitely more difficult. He would never allow himself to fall into such a trap, but in terms of life and its experiences he did acknowledge that 'Tom' was still young. He did doubt that the... attachment the Horcrux had to the boy and his dear 'niece' was temporary– Voldemort knew himself well enough to recognise that he never let go of what he'd claimed as his own– but he did hold out a certain anticipation for age to temper such youthful impulses of protectiveness, oh-so jealously shielding such objects of attachment from any and all that might cause harm.

"Can you think of a more perfect spy?" He asked 'Tom' pointedly, reminding him of what was so crucially important at this stage in their planning. "Everything is unfolding as it should, but we can leave nothing to chance; this is an opportunity we would be fools to let pass. And neither of us is a fool." He refused to let attachment make him weak; either himself or the younger piece of his soul. 

Tom looked furious, his eyes a burning, bloodied red like fresh-spilled blood, but he could also see the reluctant agreement on the sentient horcrux's face.

Whatever else he was, whatever attachments he'd formed and youthful folly burned within him, at the very essence of himself 'Tom' was still Voldemort and he/they understood doing what needed to be done.

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Harry's POV:

"Mister Potter, do you understand the seriousness of the allegations you have made?"