Harry Potter's Pen Pal

Chapter Eleven

Harry had been wondering what to do about Tom. Ever since he'd discovered that the sixteen-year-old was actually Voldemort's younger self, he'd been torn between hating and distrusting him or trusting him. He knew most of his hatred for and distrust of Voldemort was because of Dumbledore's manipulations, but he didn't know how much of his hate and distrust was actually needed.

He paused in the action of pulling out Tom's diary and slapped his forehead.

"What's up, Harry?" Neville asked curiously, looking up from his Herbology book.

"Nothing, Neville, I was just being stupid," Harry responded with a snort. "I'll need quiet for a moment, Nev."

"Yes, Harry." Neville turned back to his book.

Harry closed his eyes and thought, Tom, it's Harry again.

Voldemort replied, Don't call me Tom! And that took you long enough.

I had to listen to my parents' wills, and I had a lot of controlling potions, compulsions and blocks. Is Marvolo acceptable?

There was a long pause. Then Voldemort replied, I suppose.

Question, Harry said. Did you kill my parents, or is that another one of Dumbledore's lies?

I did NOT kill your parents! Voldemort said angrily.

Calm down, Marvolo. Tell me what actually happened, Harry soothed.

Voldemort growled wordlessly before sighing and speaking.

A week before the Halloween of 1981, one of my followers overheard a prophecy concerning you. He only heard the first few lines: 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies....' There were only two couples that dared defy me thrice: Frank and Alice Longbottom and your parents. The prophecy could have applied to either of you.

I was going to study both you and the Longbottom heir, secretly, before deciding what to do about it. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had other plans.

When I arrived at your house, invisibly, I found Dumbledore speaking to your father. Potter looked angry, and he kept saying 'You will not touch our son!' Dumbledore replied, 'I'm sorry, but the only way to defeat Voldemort is to turn your son into a weapon. If you won't help me do it, then I no longer need you.' And he killed him.

Harry snarled in wordless fury.

I haven't finished yet, brat.

I didn't want Dumbledore controlling the boy who could supposedly defeat me, so I went up the stairs to stop him from taking you.

You were going to kidnap me, Harry asked dryly, still furious that Dumbledore had killed his father.

Yes, Voldemort replied, unapologetically. When I arrived, your mother was casting a Blood Protection on you, crying. Before I could take you away, Dumbledore appeared and began threatening your mother. She refused to let him near you, and he told her the same thing he told your father: 'If you won't let me make your son a weapon, then I don't need you any longer.'

I was going to stop him ⎯ I respected your mother, and my most trusted servant considered her a sister, asking me to spare her several times ⎯ but before I could, she was dead. She collapsed in front of your crib, and Dumbledore pointed his wand at you.

Harry was fuming at this point, but he stayed silent while Voldemort finished.

I revealed myself before he could cast a single spell, and he said, 'Ah, Tom. You're too late. He is mine.'