Chapter 37

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Harry's POV

I stood from where I sat on the ground. Really just taking in what had just happened.

Did he just give up? That doesn't seem right.
Voldemort wouldn't just give up like that. It's not in his nature.

I knew this wasn't over, but what could he be plotting?

Is he bringing his other death eaters?

My breathing hitched as pain overtook my head.
I groaned as I collapsed to the floor for the millionth time that night.

A pressure like none other appeared. Voldemort. I knew he wasn't finished with me.

I was battling Voldemort for my mind. He was clawing his way inside and I couldn't seem to stop him.

Everytime I pushed him back, he only shoved himself further into my head, breaking down all the walls that already were unstable.

But I couldn't let him control my mind. I pushed back even harder. I shoved and pushed, hoping to kick him out, but he was too strong.

He managed to get inside. My head pounded and it felt like my whole body was on fire.

"You've lost, old man." A voice so similar to mine left my mouth, but it wasn't mine. It wasn't me.

Dumbledore fell to his knees in front of me. A pleading and worried look in his eyes.

I yelled out in pain as Voldemort tortured me from the inside.

Visions flew past me.

My mother dying, Cedric's corpse, the face of a dementor coming closer to me, my uncle's abuse, my suicide attempt.

No. No! I can't let him do this to me, but having an internal battle is a lot more difficult than you would expect.

I'm too weak to do anything. I can't block him out. He just keeps pushing these memories, these terrible memories at me.

I grunted out in pain, still fighting, but slowly giving up.

This is Voldemort we're talking about. The darkest wizard to live and I'm just a fifteen year old boy. How could I ever hope to stop him?

"Harry." I heard Dumbledore's voice. It sounded distant, but I knew he was beside me.

I fought Voldemort in hopes of hearing Dumbledore's words, but Voldemort just kept fighting me back.

I could hear him though. I could hear exactly what Dumbledore was saying, it just took every fiber in my body to focus on him.

"Harry." I heard again.

More memories passed through my eyes. Arthur's bloodied and mangled form. Draco's cold and lifeless body, his eyes closed. His breath gone and non-existent.

"So weak." This time Voldemort's voice rang in my head. Visions of all the times Voldemort got inside my head passed through me, proving his statement. Proving just how weak I am.

He's right. I couldn't even protect the ones I care about. I couldn't do anything. I'm nothing. I'm useless.

"So vulnerable." He said. Then, I saw myself gazing into a mirror.
It looked like me for a moment, but as I stared longer, it turned into something that wasn't me at all, yet it was still me.

It was Voldemort. I had become Voldemort. I tried looking away from the mirror, but a voice so loud and authoritative stopped me. "Look at me."

I grunted out in pain once again as the vision finally faded.

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