The Darkening of Your Soul

Chapter 4

Harry did not want to use the Knight Bus to travel to Voldemort’s hideout, because he wanted no witnesses. If it ever got back to Dumbledore that Harry Potter had travelled to Little Hangleton the consequences would be beyond dire. Technically, Harry knew how to apparate. Except he had no idea how his eleven-year-old body would react to that kind of magic, if it was even capable of it. And the last thing Harry wanted was to accidentally splinch himself all over England and explain what the hell happened to the Ministry when they came to put him back together.

So, Kreacher it was. House-elves had an uncanny sense of direction, could find almost any place they put their minds to, so Harry knew Kreacher would get him there.

“Just drop me in the cemetery,” Harry said as Kreacher grabbed hold of his arm. One quiet and pleasant pop later and they were standing in the fresh air surrounded by gravestones. “Thanks. I’ll call you when you can come pick me up.” Kreacher nodded in response and popped away again.

Harry inhaled a deep breath as he stared at the dilapidated manor house in the distance. Doubt set in once he took a moment to think about what he was doing. He was voluntarily visiting Voldemort, his prophesized enemy, the Dark Lord who’d done his very best in their past life to kill Harry once and for all. But this was also a new Voldemort with a complete soul and his memories of defeat. And, Harry reasoned, the sooner he reached some sort of understanding with his enemy, the better. Not to mention Harry was just plain curious what had become of Voldemort in this brave new world and when had Harry ever been able to deny his curiosity?

So he took another deep breath, gathered his Gryffindor courage and impulsivity and strolled towards the house, enjoying the warmth of an early morning in August. There were no wards stopping him from entering through the rusty gates and onto the neglected and overgrown manor grounds. He made it to the front door in one piece and knocked firmly.

A few minutes passed while Harry waited as patiently as possible while being consumed by anticipation and anxiety. Then the door creaked open and Barty Crouch Jr peered at him with squinty eyes, the wand in his hand pointed straight at Harry.

“Hi, Barty,” Harry said with a friendly smile. “I’ve come to visit the Dark Lord. Please let him know his soulmate is here to see him.” Harry just couldn’t help himself, and it was true after all. They shared a soul.

Barty looked a little as if he’d just been hit over the head with a rogue bludger. “Who the hell are you?”

Harry straightened his shoulders and widened his smile. “Oh, how rude of me. I’m Harry Potter.”

Now Barty looked as if he’d been hit by about a dozen bludgers, his round eyes staring at Harry in sheer disbelief.

“Let him in,” called a soft voice from within the house, and at once Harry ducked under Barty’s elbow and slipped inside the door. Sometimes being small had its advantages. He rushed into the direction the voice had come from, a room on the right, while Barty sputtered behind him as he closed the door with a slam.

“Potter... Potter! Give me your wand!” Barty demanded as he hurried after Harry, but Harry ignored him because there, in a wingback leather chair in the middle of a dusty reception room sat the Dark Lord embodying a small homunculus similar to the one he’d been in during their previous life. Though this one seemed a little less emaciated, a little more...complete, for lack of a better word. Voldemort stared at Harry with red eyes, wand in hand but resting in his lap.