I Must Not Break Harry Potter

Chapter 11

Snape's eyes widened when he saw Harry's outfit. "Now you look like Basilisk," he said slowly. "You removed the glamour," he noted.

"I did," Harry answered, smirking. "I've been wearing one of my own making ssssinsssse the beginning of thisssss year."

The Potions Master shuddered. "Your persona is terrifying."

"Thanksssss," Harry snickered. "Shall we go, then, Professssssssor?"

"Call me Severus," Snape replied after a short pause. "This way."

Harry followed the man past the gates, where the professor pulled out a stick.

"Portkey?" Harry questioned.

Severus nodded shortly, and Harry grasped the stick. With a familiar twisting feeling, they appeared in the front gardens of Malfoy Manor. Harry, to his surprise, didn't stumble like he usually did with Wizarding transportation.

When Severus realized Harry wasn't following him up to the mansion, he stopped and sighed. "Dramatic entrance?" he guessed dryly.

Harry grinned. "Where'z the fun of showing up like a boring normal persssssson?"

"If the Dark Lord curses you, it's not my fault," Severus deadpanned. "He's most likely in the drawing room, ball room, or the library."

Nodding, Harry slipped into the shadows and headed inside.

Malfoy Manor was as huge, elegant, and rich as Malfoy had bragged. It, like Zabini Manor, was also covered in Slytherin colors. Sometimes there was the occasional blood-red or black, but it was mostly green and silver. Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoys.

He found Voldemort in the drawing room alone, pacing. His expression was blank, but Harry could tell he was angry, shocked, and guilty.

Harry decided he wasn't going to have a dramatic entrance, not until he was introduced to the Death Eaters. Voldemort looked like he had enough on his mind. He knocked on the open door.

Voldemort looked up and blinked when he saw Harry. "P- Basilisk."

"Lord Voldemort." Harry entered the room. "What were you about to call me?"

"Nothing escapes you," Voldemort sighed. "I guessed when you sent me that last letter."

"Guessed what?"

"That you are Harry Potter-Black," Voldemort replied.

Harry froze.

"You were obviously very close to the old fool, but not enough to know about the fake prophecy," Voldemort said calmly. "Your speech is incredibly similar, and both of you were vehement in your distrust of the goat."

"Do... do you have a problem with..."

"~No, brat, you've been a boon,~" Voldemort reassured him, switching to Parseltongue.

"~A... boon?~" Harry didn't know what that meant.

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "~A great help, a blessing. And I am not going to kill you. You are apparently my equal and will destroy the Light.~"

Harry relaxed. "~What did you want to talk about?~" He plopped down on the couch, earning a fond eye-roll from the Dark Lord.

"~How did you find out Dumbledore was lying to you?~" Voldemort asked, perching on the edge of a desk.

"~It's a long story,~" Harry warned.

"~I have time, Basilisk. I told my followers not to disturb me for four hours except in an emergency,~" Voldemort explained. "~Then I have raids to plan.~"