Vinewood

Untitled Part 1

Key:

"..." - Speech

+...+ - Parseltongue

Italicized - Mental speech, charms/spells

Harry Potter goes dark. It seems this is what everyone feared, and is thankful he never did. Or so they thought. First in the Vinewood series; begins at the Third Task, in the Graveyard. Pre-slash, slash HP/LV

+ -

"You could be great, you know," the man said as he paced around where Harry was tied to the grave stone. He unconsciously repeated what the Sorting Hat told Harry as the boy begged for Gryffindor over Slytherin.

The teen tilted his head to the side, staring up at Voldemort curiously. The pale, scaly-looking skin was pale, the red eyes glinting from the face over a slit-nose. He heard hints of a hiss in the man's speech. "And how would I manage that?" he asked curiously.

Lord Voldemort stopped his pacing and approached the bound Harry until their faces were inches apart. "Just join me. I won't lie to you, or withhold information, not like Dumbledore." He spat the name like a curse.

Harry stared into ruby eyes as he considered. He was much brighter than most gave him credit for, but between growing up with Dudley and his relatives, and then befriending the jealous Ron and studious Hermione, Harry had learned to hide his true self.

He considered the man's proposition. Professor Dumbledore left him with a family who abused him while growing up and told Harry nothing of his heritage. He kept secrets from Harry and endangered his life each year. His friends held him back, and his godfather was an overgrown child from thirteen years in Azkaban. Though the man killed his parents, Harry was sure he had a good reason; maybe he'd tell him.

The good side to the man's offer was knowledge, and the chance he'd get out of his relative's house. Harry had very high self-preservation, and he figured Voldemort of all people would help him stay alive. After all, it was Voldemort who ended up trying to kill him each year, and with a truce, all Harry would have to worry about would be staying secretive.

Voldemort remained patient as he stared into the emerald eyes of the teen that helped bring him back to life. He saw the boy's decision, and felt a smirk grow upon his face.

Harry took a breath and exhaled steadily. He told a smirking Lord Voldemort, "Yeah, okay, I'll join you. But I expect you to hold up your promise of knowledge. Now, can you release me? This statue is digging into my back."

The older man chuckled and waved his hands. The bonds holding Harry broke and the teen fell forward...right into his arms. He easily caught the boy, and was surprised at his lightness. A small blush dusted over Harry's cheekbones as he steadied himself with hands on Voldemort's shoulders. The man gently set him on his feet and returned Harry's holly and phoenix feather wand.

The Dark Lord ignored the slight tingles he felt when he had Harry in his arms - the boy was only fourteen for Merlin's sake! He led Harry over to his father's grave, where the large cauldron was set up, but the fire no longer burning. They found Pettigrew still mourning the loss of his hand. With an infuriated sigh, Voldemort slung a spell at the man's limb that cauterized the wound to stop the rat from bleeding out.

"Th-thank you M-Master," Wormtail stuttered.

Voldemort waved his hand, dismissing the rat. He turned to Harry, and their eyes met once again. "If you're going to stay, you'll need a mask," he told him.