*The Great Escape*

The Great Escape by Pseudonymous Entity"

"I play to win and if it looks like I've lost, it's only because it's not over yet." ― Dellacroix

Summary: Events at the ministry go differently than fate intended. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort fall through the veil...and come out the other side. A secret muggle organization captures them. Nothing is ever the same.

Characters: Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort and *********

Warnings: (Suggestions for warnings will be taken into consideration)

AN: As always I welcome thoughts, questions, guesses, theories and limericks. In whichever order of importance you feel inclined to give.

ANx2: A bit of a short chapter. I'll expand it a bit when I get the chance.

Ever Yours, Pseu [The clever, magnificent and ridiculously good looking]

"...one day the skeletons are gonna come out, one day the elephants in the rooms will make a sound

Watch out for lions and tigers and bears - It's about to hit the fan - Better beware."

-Tell The Truth

"Try not to react," Voldemort instructed.

Physically Harry straightened to give the appearance of high alert. Mentally, he snorted. Non-reaction on his part was highly unlikely. "The first time we met, that you will remember, within the mirror chamber. I was there for the stone. Do you know why I needed it?"

Harry frowned. "You were a spirit then and you needed to a body." He cocked his head. "And I do remember."


"The first time." Harry continued. "When you came for me. My father told my mother to take me and go. I think you had anti-apparating wards up. She took me upstairs. Begged you to take her instead of me. Then a flash of green..." He trailed off. "When I was younger, before Hogwarts, I had that dream all the time. It wasn't until I came into contact with a Dementor that I knew it was a memory. That I saw it so clearly."

The dark lord didn't say anything for a moment. Their holding room quiet. Barton shifted in his seat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Though he could not know what they were saying, he seemed interested all the same. Harry felt like giving a bow. Glad to be of service, he thought.

"I was there for a body," Voldemort said. Perhaps choosing to ignore Harry's previous confession. "I did not need to it, however, to live. I did not need it for immortality. On the day I came for you," Or maybe he wouldn't ignore it. "I came with a purpose beyond your death. There is a bit of magick, a ritual. One c an use it for a number of things, that sort of magic. It is highly regulated and forbidden now. It is...difficult. With it, you can tie yourself to this world even if your body should fail you. This is how I was able to remain while my body was gone. Are you understanding?"

"Yeah." Said, Harry. "I get it."

Voldemort nodded slowly. "It involves sacrificial magic. Sacrificing what it is you want, along with something precious. You must sacrifice a life to death in place of your own, and remove a piece of your soul. This piece is placed within something, a container, to keep it safe. It becomes a Horcrux."

"Your diary." Said Harry, suddenly. "Was it a Horcrux?"

"It was." Voldemort tilted his head. Red eyes watching him closely. "It is, of course, of no use to me now." He waited a moment more. Letting it all sink in maybe. "The night I went for you I intended to make another. I intended to use my prophesied vanquisher."

"Poetic." Harry snarked.

"I thought so," Voldemort said dryly, without missing a beat. "I did not fail to create the Horcrux."

Dark brows drew together in confusion. "Did you create it using my mum or my father instead? I'm still alive, for all your trying to the contrary."

"Yes, you have a fascinating healing ability, haven't you? Accelerated. You're quite durable." Voldemort's voice drawled along. He used the same tone Snape used when Harry wasn't getting something that ought to be obvious. Harry hated it. "I used the life force of neither."

He didn't like this conversation anymore. Harry swallowed and crossed his arms, pulling the thin fabric of his uniform over his fingers. No one said anything for a long while. They stood there, silently. Barton was rapt with attention, Harry could feel his gaze on them. Harry knew this conversation wasn't over, and he knew he wasn't going to like whatever came next. Honestly, he'd had enough conversations with adults in his life to know this was going in a direction that wasn't any good for Harry. What made it worse, was that Harry couldn't even bring himself to brace against whatever it would be. It seemed so much easier to just take it squarely. So he did.

"What did you do?" Harry whispered.

"Did you ever ask Dumbledore how it was you could speak with snakes. Ask why we share out mental connection? Or why we're so much alike?" Voldemort's sixteen-year-old self, Tom Riddle, had said something similar once. Red eyes examined him. Waiting.

"He said...he said that, when you attacked me, my mother's love protected me, but some of your power was transferred to me..." He left the sentence hanging. Dumbledore knew. That was what had Voldemort upset. When he was healing him before these new muggles attacked the HYDRA base. This is what he discovered. What Dumbledore had hidden from them both.

Voldemort did not use that moment to confirm Harry's suspicions. Instead, he said, "How interesting that he allowed an eleven-year-old into the obstacle course guarding the stone. That he did not share what he already knew, that there was a basilisk beneath the school. He even let you participate in the tournament."

"That's enough."

"Almost as if he was searching out every possible opportunity to be rid of one of my-"

"Enough!" Harry shouted, to everyone's surprise.

Agent Barton looked half-poised to intervene. Harry nearly laughed. There was nothing he could do for Harry. There was nothing anyone could do.

"I wonder what the ministry will think when learning about it."

Harry scoffed. "I couldn't give a rat's arse about the ministry's opinion of me."

Voldemort's head tilted in a way Harry was coming to hate. "And your friends? If they learn that Harry Potter, the famous boy-who-lived is nothing but a fraud. A piece of my soul, inhabiting a fifteen-year-old's body? I wonder what they shall think."

Harry winced. He wasn't stupid. Voldemort would only tell him this if it benefited him, not because he cared that Harry had been deceived. Why not take an opportunity to convince the one prophesied as the only one with the power to defeat him, to not do so? His head swam. Of course, he was the one with the power to do so. He was Voldemort. He was what kept him immortal. He was...a Horcrux.

But Voldemort was not above twisting the truth to suit his own purposes. Harry had no way of knowing any more than he was told. He could see though, because he was not one for long periods of denial, that the implication of his status as Horcrux was the truth. He held inside him Voldemort's soul. He was a tiny piece of the dark lord, and he always had been.

His lips pulled upward. That was Voldemort's problem, not his.

He knew, he knew, soul piece or no Voldemort would not hesitate to lock him away where no one could find him if he thought for a moment Harry wasn't on board. Just like the muggles had done. First his relatives, than HYDRA and now these ones.

Harry came to a decision. The wizard was right. If the ministry found out he would be utterly screwed. What Hary needed was some leverage. Some power in the situation that he could use against both Voldemort and the ministry and even Dumbledore if it came to it. Dumbledore and his Order of the Pheonix. He needed the power to defend himself and his friends. To shift the balance in his favour for once. He would never allow another person he cared for to die protecting him.

His arms lowered to his sides, fingers curling into fists.

There would never be another Sirius.

Pseudonymous Entity


Notes: Thoughts? Guesses? Questions? Theories? Limericks?

Post Script:

Poor Voldemort. He just doesn't quite inspire trust, does he?

-Ever Yours. Pseu