"Welcome my most loyal," Lord Voldemort is sitting on his thrown in Slytherin Manor overlooking his death eaters. Today this meeting held only his inner circle people he deems his closest friends, allowing him to drop his glamor. The hideous snake-like skin melts away to reveal a handsome Tom Riddle, roughly the age of 45 thanks to a ritual Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy found to rejuvenate not just his body but his mind as well.
"It is so good to see you, my friends. I feared I would be trapped within the confines of my own mind for eternity."
"It's very good to have to back, my Lord," a very sane Bellatrix acknowledged. Now that her master had him mind restored she didn't need to keep up her own maniacal act of insanity.
Just as Lucius was about to express his own joy of having one of his greatest friends back there's the sound of distant yelling and various curses being thrown.
Voldemort quickly makes an appearance as does the Death Eaters' masks just as the main double doors burst open to reveal a cloaked figure, one guard dragging the small body to the feet of his leader.
"This was found on the edge of the wards, my Lord." The word this was punctured by a sharp kick to the person's side enticing a whimper. "He was looking for a way in to try to get to you. I thought it better to bring his him to you, my Lord." After receiving an absentminded nod the soldier turns and heads back to his post.
"Reveal yoursssself," Voldemort's hissy voice talks down on the person who dares try to cross his wards. Observing the poorly hidden shiver of fear the figure raises his head to reveal vibrant green eyes. The color of the killing curse.
"Harry Potter. To what do I owe the pleasssssure of thisss unsssscheduled visssit?"
"I wanna make a deal," Harry doesn't meet anyone's eye. He doesn't even both to raise from Voldemort's feet. "I have a bag in my cloak whositems may be of interest to you." His voice is calm, even, and slightly slow, as if trying to prevent it from quivering from nerves. Slowly, as to not startle any of the others into pulling out their wands, he reaches into the inside pocket of his robe and pulls out a small leather pouch.
"And why would that pouch interesssstme?" raising a nonexistent eyebrow Voldemort tries to rack his brain of everything important enough for Harry Potter to come and deliver. The only thing that would be of any significance is...
"These are yourHorcruxes." He finally looks up, confessing what he's brought directly to Voldemort's blood red eyes. "And you can have all 5 under one condition."
"Yes, your diary, the locket, the ring, the cup, and the crown. I know Nagini is one as well but you already have her..." the Gryffindor trails off looking at the floor once more.
"Crown? You meanRowena Ravenclaw's Diadem but nevermind the technicalities. What isss sssstopingme from killing you and taking what isss rightfully mine," the low hissing sounds are meant to install fear.
"Nothing." It's a fact. Voldemort is much stronger and has years of experienced in the art of dueling. He also has the advantage of his supporters to back him up if needed. "B-but where's the honor in that?" Harry rushes out the last sentence in case Voldemort decides to strike him down where he stands.
"I sssuppossse you're correct. What isss it you sssseek chossssen one?"
Instead of answering right away Harry rolls up the sleeves of his cloak to reveal a think white cuff on each arm almost like a cast going from his wrist all the way down both of his forearms. "I need you to take the off."
"Can the great Albus Dumbledore not perform a ssssimple charm to remove your cuffssss himself? He had to ssssend you all the way to your enemy to recccceive help?" Inside Tom is both curious and suspicious. Is this another one of his elaborate schemes to rid the world of the supposed Dark Lord.
"I never said that Dumbledore sent me," raising to his feet he thrust his arms out. "Do you want your Horcruxes or am I wasting my time?"
Voldemort lazily takes out his wand and runs a scan of magic down the boy, the subsequent flinch and full body shiver is something Voldemort takes note of and logs for later. Finding no curses or jinx upon the boy another flick of his wrist has the cuffs melting off Harry's skin.
Almost instantly Harry's appearance starts to change. His tan, sun-kissed skin fades into a sickly pale gray along with bruises materilizing all along his face and now clear arms. It's only now does the people of the room notice how bloodied and desheveled the preteen's robes are, which is now increadibly baggy due to the boy's new smaller size.
There's a few seconds of stunned silence where the child only stares at his battered, bruise hands before whispering a single word and apparating away.