His True self ( Harry Potter )

The dark lord

Embracing His True Self

Chapter 1

The Dark Lord

"My Lord..." Pettigrew choked, "my Lord...you promised...you did promise."

"Hold out your arm," Voldemort said lazily, his red eyes piercing as he looked around, although he was still keeping an eye on the boy; he did have a knack for escaping. If he wasn't his enemy, he would have had a grudging respect for his abilities, but since the boy's escapes put his plans to ruins more often than not, he wasn't happy in the slightest.

"Oh, Master...thank you, master..." choked Pettigrew, getting dizzy from the loss of blood. He extended his handless arm towards Voldemort, who just laughed coldly at his minion, concealing his surprise that Potter was suppressing his own sadistic amusement at Pettigrew's current predicament. "The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master, please... please..." Pettigrew piteously whimpered, missing the green eyes of his bound prisoner watching him with a great delight that he couldn't quite mask.

Voldemort snatched Wormtail's left arm, Harry noticed, and forced his sleeve up, ignoring the man's snivelling. He noticed immediately a red tattoo, the same design he'd seen projected into the sky at the Quidditch World cup. It was pretty hard to forget, since he'd been accused of firing it into the sky himself. It seemed no matter where he went, whatever he did, he always had people blaming him for something.

"It is back," said Voldemort softly, and Harry couldn't help but remember the Chamber...his voice back then. What had caused him to become so hideously disfigured? Shaking off his entirely inappropriate thoughts, he tried to think of a way to get out of this. He was drawing a blank... he was tied to a bloody tombstone, for Merlin's sake. Damn Dumbledore for not stepping in and preventing him from participating in the tournament. But Voldemort's voice drew his attention back to what was happening around him as he hissed softly, "They will all have noticed it...and now, we shall see...now we shall know..." Then Voldemort touched the tattoo with his finger; just then Harry's scar seared with pain. What had Voldemort just done? Why could he feel what he'd done? This was different than anything else he'd ever felt in relation to his scar before. The tattoo had gone black now, and he watched Pettigrew scream in agony; the sight of his suffering caused his lips to twitch. Hopefully Voldemort would leave it too long and actually kill the snivelling thing.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" the Dark Lord whispered once more, his red eyes gleaming. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

Return? Oh great, he'd somehow summoned his followers; how many did he have? How did he get out of this? His wand was out of reach; Cedric Diggory was dead and no help at all. He had no idea where he was, or how to get back to Hogwarts. In other words, he was done for. Maybe it was for the best...when he died he wouldn't need to return to the Dursleys. No more abuse, no more pressure, no more looking at the disappointment on everyone's faces when he didn't do what they expected. No more pretence...no more putting up with people who pretended to give a shit.

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," Voldemort hissed softly, "A Muggle and a fool...very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child...and I killed my father; see how useful he has proven himself, in death..."

"Too bad they didn't cremate him then," Harry said bluntly, watching the red eyes flash with surprise at his effrontery.

Then Voldemort continued on as if Harry hadn't spoken at all. "You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was...he didn't like magic, my father...he left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage...but I vowed to find him...I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name...Tom Riddle..."