Icy Destiny

By: xxlostdreamerxz

Disclaimer: No I do not own HP.

A/N: Harry didn't pick a side; he saved Dumbledore because he honestly respects and likes the man. And besides, he saves both Death Eaters and Order Members equally. So it can be said, without fail, that he prizes the sanctity of life.

Chapter 12: Hold Me

“Up!”

Tom smiled fondly and gently picked up the wiggling form of his two year old son. He shifted the boy and leaned forward to peck the boy on the nose, causing Harry to giggle in delight. “You’re getting quite heavy, child,” he murmured, as Harry snuggled into his arms.

“M’not fat,” Harry pouted.

Tom’s lips curled in amusement. “Of course not,” he said evenly.

The boy gave his father a considering look before smiling brightly, all things forgotten. “Okay,” he said cheerfully, reaching up to play with his father’s wavy black locks. They were so shiny and soft! It was then decided that something that shiny had to be tasty! Harry reached out and gave the lock a hard pull…

“No, eating hair,” Tom chided gently, having mentally prodded his child’s thoughts. “I promise it won’t taste good.”

Harry gave his father a sad look…

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Voldemort jerked back to reality with a start, meeting the elemental’s emerald green stare curiously. He didn’t know why it was that memories of him suddenly decided to surface. His jaw clenched in both self-loathing and frustration. Of all the colors, why did the elemental’s eyes have to be the exact same shade as Harry’s?

“What’s your name, Elemental?” Voldemort demanded, his voice not as harsh or cold as he would have liked.

The boy stared up at him with unabashed curiosity, tilting his head to the side to get a better glimpse of the Dark Lord. He shifted his posture like a bird world; it was almost as if he was trying to study him from all angles. “My name is Harry,” he said finally.

Harry? How dare he possess the same name?! Voldemort grinded his teeth angrily, shooting the boy a dangerous stare…with which the boy met unflinchingly. He had no reason to both conversing with the child. He should have gone ahead with his plan and eliminated the Elemental from the start. But…Voldemort’s hand tightened against his wand…after years of mindless torment over his son’s murder, he wanted some reprieve. He wanted to...

“Are you the Dark Lord? The one whose name everyone is afraid to say?”

Voldemort studied the boy, taking in his appearance. The child looked about sixteen years old and was wearing the most peculiar outfit – a shirt patched from leaves, khaki pants, and no shoes. He paused as he really looked at the boy. Dark wavy black hair, high cheekbones, and a particularly familiar pair of emerald green eyes. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.

“I am,” he hissed, refusing to take his eyes off the boy. The resemblance was uncanny. But it was preposterous! Voldemort’s ire heightened, as his heart and mind battled for dominance. He couldn’t possibly be my child. Harry was a squib. He couldn’t have survived the storm…”

Instead of backing away in fright, Harry’s expression brightened with curiosity. “Really now,” he said, interestedly. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for quite some time now.” Harry paused, lips quirking into a smile. “Well, maybe not that long, I suppose. But I do have some questions for you…if you’ll answer them that is,” he said as an afterthought. “And then we can fight afterwards?”

Voldemort’s head spun. I can’t believe someone is negotiating with me!

Most people either burst out in tears or dug out their wand and cursed him with every spell they knew (ineffective as they were). “Why do you want to speak to me?” he spat, feeling decidedly frustrated that he couldn’t raise his wand to the boy until he uncovered the truth. “Are you getting tired of being Dumbledore’s little attack dog?”

Harry looked unaffected at Voldemort’s little dig.

“Attack dog?” he scoffed, “I’ve hardly ever fight actively beside Dumbledore’s Order.” The boy sighed, feeling decidedly tired. “But yes, I wanted to ask you why you chose to instigate this war...and what your aim is?”

Voldemort resisted the urge to both crucio the boy and pat him on the back. “To create a pure, dark society of course,” And hurt them as much as they’ve hurt me. He sneered, carefully weighing the boy’s expressions and behaviorisms. They were so similar. “Hasn’t Dumbledore brainwashed you yet?”

This time Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course not,” he said evenly. “He’s a Light Lord, for Merlin’s sake! He wouldn’t deprive someone of their free will.” He paused, before adding, “Though…I do suppose he does make it a point to constantly prattle on about how ‘evil’ you are.” He shrugged lightly. “But it’s not his fault that his followers follow his suggestions almost blindly.”

“If you are already aware of my agenda, why pester me with all these inane questions?”

The boy clicked his tongue thoughtfully, pausing to carefully consider the question. “Well,” he said slowly. “Someone I once knew told me that true wisdom comes from seeing the world in more than black and white.”

I told Harry that once upon a time.

He is the one.

My child…

My son.

Voldemort’s crimson red eyes flickered between red and green as his heart stirred in remembrance. “Tell me, what is your last name?” I need to know for sure. I need to…

The boy’s jaw tightened. “I don’t have one.”

Voldemort’s breath hitched. “What do you mean?”

Harry turned away, raising his hands dismissively and a large cloud of debris began spinning about the Dark Lord. His father had always been a sore subject for him. And now, with this stranger…a Dark Lord of all things…who seemed frightfully familiar. It was elusive…the connection between them. He didn’t understand what it was. But it made him angry. No, it made him furious. And he didn’t even know why.

“Let’s fight.”

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“No, you don’t understand,” Tom said sternly, gently prying Harry’s hands from the spinning clay wheel. “You have to use your imagination, child.” He threw out the unrecognizable shape that Harry had been playing with and offered him a new chunk of brown clay. “This thing here can become anything you want it to be. You could make anything from a simple pot to a gorgeous dragon.” Tom smiled gently. “Just will it into being.”

Harry looked at him sadly, staring at the lump of clay that lay pathetically in the center of the dirty wheel. “But daddy, what if…”

Tom leaned forward to catch Harry’s last words.

“What is wrong with the clay being what it already is?”

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Voldemort stared at the boy incomprehensibly. Fight? His hand tightened on his wand, silently casting a shield spell to prevent the debris from bothering him. His crimson red eyes stared blankly into those emerald green eyes. And all he could think of was, why.

Why fight? Why?

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TBC

Chapter Preview: Harry and Voldemort's fight.

Note 1: Harry didn't recognize Voldemort because the Dark Lord went through a lot of rituals and has changed in appearance. Harry is fasinated by Voldemort since he is like a child, curious about the ways of both the Light and Darkness.

Note 2: I've written two Death Note fics, so check them out if you're interested.

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