The Little One with Green Eyes

38: Realizations

There was a melancholy expression on the figure's face, one filled with longing and grief. The emotion was so strong that it stopped Voldemort for a second, and had he been moving, Voldemort was sure he would've staggered back. Just as quickly as the emotion had come, it was gone.

"What... what happened?" Voldemort asked, unsure of how to proceed. Death's eyes flitted up to Voldemort's face for a second before they moved back to their position on the floor.

"The soul was brought back to the plain of the living, forever sealing it in Lady Magic's realm," Death said softly. It was the first time Voldemort had ever heard the being sound so upset. "The soul has been lost to me, and it is nearly impossible to retrieve it. Whole, at least."

Voldemort frowned. "It was... brought back, you say?" Pieces began to click in his mind. Voldemort frowned, and suddenly, he wasn't happy with the picture that was beginning to form. "You said... earlier, you said that I... that I took something from you."

"Yes."

"That I stole your Master from you," Voldemort continued, his crimson eyes narrowing. "This soul... the soul that was brought back..."

"The soul belonged to that of my Master, yes," Death said. "The soul was crafted perfectly to become my Master, my Dear Sister ensured that no matter what happened, the soul would become my Master so that I would no longer be alone."

"But then your Master was... brought... back..." Voldemort froze, his entire body turning to stone. Suddenly, the fear that had been ebbing away was back full-force, and the sheer terror that gripped him nearly sent him to his knees.

Death stood, and Voldemort stumbled back, his hand instantly gripping his wand. "Darling---"

"I won't let you have him!" Voldemort snarled, his crimson eyes locked on the figure in front of him. "That's my son! You can't take him! I won't let you!"

"He was my Master before he was your son," Death said firmly, his eyebrows drawing down into a glare. "You took him from me first."

"So that's why you're here?" Voldemort demanded, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Befriend me so that you can steal my son right under my nose? I will stop you! I won't let you take my son away from me!"

"Peace," Death said slowly, holding up his hands. "I could not take him from you even if I wanted to. The ritual you performed on him ensured it."

Refusing to drop his guard, Voldemort eyed his warily. "Explain."

"When young Harry Potter died and crossed over, I stood there watching, waiting to welcome him to my domain." Death said softly, and Voldemort grit his teeth at the longing expression on Death's face as he spoke of Little One. "He was with me long enough for me to introduce him. Long enough for me to embrace him. That is why he recognized me, I believe. Then you performed the ritual and you stole his soul back, sealing it the land of the living through olde magics. The ritual prevents me from taking his soul in the traditional sense.

"The ritual you used trapped young Harry Potter's soul inside his body, preserving the body and sustaining the corpse with magic. In doing so, a magical barrier is created around the soul trapped inside. The barrier locks the soul inside the body, acting as the tether that living souls use to remain inside their own bodies. Without magic, the barrier would slowly disintegrate, and the soul would have no way of staying inside the body."

"I have several inferi that I do not maintain," Voldemort interrupted. "When I check on them every few years, they are still functional."

"Yes, but the soul that you originally trapped inside has escaped, leaving only an echo behind. The echo is strong enough to maintain minimum control over the facilities of the body, but there is no independent thought left, leaving them mindless puppets," Death explained. "Their soul has crossed over to my realm, but the soul is no longer whole. The echo left behind was created by the lack of tether, and the ritual's desire to hold the soul and body together. The soul cannot stay, but it cannot leave either. So to compensate, the soul leaves behind a piece of itself."