Pulse

Breaking

Saturday 23rd November

Voldemort snarled with malice and glee as he forced Ron's back to cave and the young wizard had no choice but to sink to his knees. He retaliated, pushing against the control of Voldemort in his mind, but only caused himself more pain and he cried out, tears leaking from his eyes. It seemed that he still had control over his tear ducts.

Voldemort hissed, wiped the tears away quickly- He hated such a human display of sorrow. It made his feel sick.

"Stop that!" He muttered to Ron, reaching into his stomach and yanking on one of his internal organs.

The scream that tore from Ron's throat was bone-rattling. Blood spattered down his front out of his mouth as he retched and choked on his sickening, shockingly scarlet innards.

"So delicate," Voldemort thought, and then he smiled quietly as he decided to try something. "Let's see how far I can push you," he said. "No need for the crucio when I can..."

Lord Voldemort reached up with his long, skeletal fingers and pushed slowly upwards, into Ron's brain. The boy yelled and clutched at his head, blood leaking from his eye sockets. Voldemort shoved his hand and twisted, feeling around in Ron's thoughts and memories. They were much more... Gentle than he had expected. The young boy was so... Self aware, worried. So, so worried, all the time.

Worried about school, his slipping marks, especially next to his intelligent peers.

Worried that he was getting nowhere with Hermione, that he had been rude many times to cover up his feelings.

Worried about what his family thought of him.

Worried about his best friend, in constant danger.

Worried about the future, what he was going to do when he left school.

Worried he didn't have the guts to be the person he wanted to be.

Worried that he was weak, that everyone looked right through him when he was stood next to Harry, the Chosen One, or Hermione, the brightest witch of her age.

Worried... Always worried... Voldemort saw how much Ron cared. He watched in astonishment at the boys memories:

Sacrificing himself at age 11...

Standing on broken bones to face a mass murderer to protect his friends...

The guilt and regret- the sole crushing anguish at leaving his best friend's side, and the relief and joy at being accepted once more.

This boy wasn't an emotionless teenage lump, as so many mistook him for.