Harry stepped out of the fireplace without stumbling, for a change. The room he had entered into was dimly lit by a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The light was barely enough to illuminate the center of the room, leaving the walls in utter darkness. A coffee table and bar were set up in the parts of the room he could see, along with a seating group. A man sat with his back to the fireplace, his long black cloak shrouding his form as he sat on a barstool at the counter.
"Good evening, Mr. Ashworth," the person said, surprising Harry. It wasn't the deep, grating voice of Voldemort, but rather, the pleasant, cultured, if arrogant tones of the Tom Riddle he remembered from the diary in his second year.
"Mr. Riddle," Harry feigned nonchalance. "I have to admit, I was surprised by your invitation."
"I have to admit," Voldemort said as he turned around, "it is a bit irregular of me. I do not make a habit of asking people over to discuss matters privately. Mainly because I found I cannot trust many people."
"I know that particular feeling very well," Harry replied evenly.
"Do you, now? Interesting." Voldemort gestured towards the stool next to him. "Please, have a seat."
"I prefer to stand, thank you."
Voldemort stared at him appraisingly for a moment, and Harry raised all of his mental shields in preparation for the legilimency attack that was sure to come… but it never did. With an almost casual shrug, Voldemort returned his attention to the glass he was nursing. "Suit yourself," he said.
"I'm guessing you didn't invite me here for idle chit-chat?"
"Indeed." Voldemort seemed to take a moment to collect his thoughts, and Harry was left to wonder about the dichotomy of this more casual, almost relaxed wizard, which was such a contrast to the firebrand image of himself he projected to the Death Eater assemblies.
"So why am I here?"
The glass was set down on top of the polished wood with a solid clink. "Because, Mr. Ashworth, I am… very curious about you."
"Really? And what did I do to rate this… interest?"
Voldemort rose from his chair. "You are aware of the current situation of the wizarding world, yes?"
"I am. There's quite a bit of unrest in Great Britain about the decline in pureblood supremacy. Mostly people being discontent with the loss of their wealth and status, as I understand."
"You are correct. I am… leading a movement to rectify this."
Harry was getting sick of these games of politics everyone around him was playing. It seemed unspoken etiquette that people danced around the subject as if they were in a shop full of fragile china, even if everyone knew damn well what they were talking about. It wasn't his nature.
"Let's cut the pleasantries. You and I both know you're the person who calls himself Lord Voldemort, and we both know what you want."
Something akin to a smile graced the dark lord's features. "Indeed. I see you're a person who doesn't like beating around the bush, very good, very good. Then allow me to tell you why you are here. I had hoped that by signing with my… common name would avoid trouble if you read the letter in company that is unaware of our relations."
"Please do."
"Very well, then." Voldemort took a step towards Harry, the flames from the chandelier and the fireplace casting his face in an unearthly glow, allowing Harry to see him clearly for the first time. The skin on Voldemort's face and neck was pale, even more so than the moonlight had suggested at their first meeting, and the skin was pulled taut over his bones. He still looked very human, but very different from the image Harry had of him as Tom Riddle nonetheless.
"When we met in the Forbidden Forest, I knew there was something different about you," Voldemort began. "Something… I couldn't quite put my finger on. You must have felt it, also. Tell me, Mr. Ashworth, were you trying to probe me?"
"No."
"I didn't think so. The sensation was close, very close, but not quite. Nothing like… this ."
Harry felt a searing pain in his forehead as Voldemort's mental probe lanced through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter, ramming its way through his occlumency shields. In desperation, Harry erected more barriers in his mind, only to watch in horror as one of them fell after the other. He could feel Voldemort's mind probing deeper and deeper into his mind, closing in unto the secrets he held safely locked away in the back corner of his mind: the knowledge of the future and what Voldemort would become.
A small eternity seemed to pass, though in reality it probably was only a few seconds when Harry stumbled upon one last, crazy, desperate defensive tactic. Mustering all of the skills he had of legilimency, he sent a psychic backlash through the connection Voldemort had established with him, hoping to slow Voldemort's crushing advance through his mind with a withering barrage of his own. It worked - he could feel Voldemort's probe recoil and retreat as the dark lord stumbled backwards, clutching at his head.
Harry found himself on his knees, holding his head in his hands as he tried to shake off the pain that hit him when Voldemort finally fully withdrew from his mind. "That… wasn't nice," he ground out between clenched teeth.
"Impressive. I wasn't expecting that, I'll admit." Voldemort collected himself and rose to his full height as he towered over Harry. "I find it interesting that there is something in your mind you seem determined to protect at all costs. Is it, perhaps then, linked to this strange sensation I feel whenever I am close to you?"
Managing a brief grimace at the way that sounded, Harry stumbled to his feet. "I swear, if you're going to tell me you're attracted to me, I'm gonna…"
"Your humor is misplaced, Mr. Ashworth." Voldemort paused for a moment, then seemed to back off. He didn't physically step back, but his presence receeded, giving Harry some breathing space. "I am sure you understand my need for secrecy. If I recruit people to my cause, I need to be absolutely certain of their trustworthiness. There can be no secrets in my inner circle."
"Sorry, but I generally don't like people messing with my head," Harry replied. "You should see the headache I gave Dumbledore on my first day at Hogwarts."
"Curious. I can understand your desire to keep some things private, however your response to the threat I posed to you just now has shown to me that you possess an extraordinary level of talent, compared to the majority of the wizarding world your age. I am sure you can understand my puzzlement as to why you came to England. Your family is almost nobility in Australia, so why come here? Why come all alone, without a friend or contact, so alone, in fact, that you are even now relying on the Black and Malfoy families to advance your career? And how is it that the Malfoy and Black patriarchs show such generousity to what amounts to a complete stranger?"
Harry shrugged passively. "Maybe they were feeling charitable?" He made sure to avoid mentioning Bellatrix's name, tried to avoid thinking it, even.
Voldemort chuckled. "I highly doubt that. No, there is something about you that makes them believe you may be of value to them."
"If you're implying I'm being used by them to further their goals, whatever their ulterior motives are, then I am well aware of that. Likewise, I am merely using them as a stepping stone to see that my own goals are realized."
"Good, that is very good. Intelligent people are so rare among our kind these days." The dark wizard nearly grinned toothily. "Whatever the case may be, I am interested in why you came here, when you could have lived comfortably in your home."
Thinking fast, Harry replied with what he figured Voldemort wanted to hear. "Things aren't exactly all happy sunshine down under. This… muggleborn rights movement is gaining popularity, though it took longer for it to take hold in Australia than it did here, since we didn't get hit nearly as hard by the fallout of the war as Europe. But there is talk of bringing more equality to our society, and frankly, it disgusts me. I had heard that there was an opposition to that forming in Britain, so I came here. That I crossed the Blacks and Malfoys on the way is mere coincidence, though a fortunate one."
"I see…" Harry could tell Voldemort was weighing whether to believe him or not. Deciding to up the ante, he added one more piece of bait.
"Especially since I am sure that I can bring considerable leverage to your position in the decisionmaking process of both houses. Like you said, for some reason they have decided to trust me. My position there… could benefit you. Greatly," Harry offered.
"A tempting offer, if I were inclined to take the risk you would pose to me in such a position." The dark lord inclined his head in contemplation. He raised his head, staring Harry in the eye. "I have to decline, I'm afraid. You see, Mr. Ashworth, if I have learned one thing, then it is to never surround myself with intelligent people… because intelligent people inevitably will find a way to stab me in the back."
Voldemort's hand slipped into his robes, and Harry had no doubt that he was going for his wand. "Besides," the dark wizard continued, "I know that Orion Black and Romulus Malfoy are not so easily swayed. They may not like muggleborn, but their belief that they are the salvation of the wizarding world is unshakable. That alone would be reason for me to be suspicious of your offer, but now I notice it comes on the heels of a motion to put the Black family in power."
"And if I can convince them to support you, that would be all the more help for your cause."
Voldemort laughed as his wand cleared the sleeve of his robe. "No, Mr. Ashworth, I did not come this far by being stupid. My life, my cause is built on the premise of obscurity. In the shadows we hide, in darkness we move, in anonymity we act, until the time is right. This place you see here has not been seen by mortal eyes for decades. The Ministry has all but forgotten about it. It belonged to a mediocre wizard who used to believe in his own superiority because of his bloodline. He was proven wrong, and in the end, he died a sick, lonely old fool. I know better. Our bloodline is only one thing, but power, true power, has to be earned . It has to be earned by walking the path everyone else fears to travel. It has to be earned by delving into the deepest secrets. But I will not jeopardize my cause by bringing it into public view."
Harry shrugged as he tried to reach for his own wand as secretly as possible. "Your loss, I guess."
"No, Mr. Ashworth, it is your loss. I know Black and Malfoy are aware something is going on. They are far too sharp not to. Maybe they even know there's malcontent spreading amongst our youth over the way things are. You would be a threat to me, as close to them as you are." Voldemort's wand was out now, pointing straight at Harry, who gulped in surprise as he stared at the piece of wood his nemesis was wielding. It was a familiar eleven-inch long piece of holly.
"Then why bring me here?" Harry asked, trying to stall for time, and thinking to himself that Bellatrix had been right - coming here had been a colossally stupid idea. "Just so you can kill me? You never had any intention of talking about recruitment, did you?"
"Oh, but I did. I did until I realized how powerful you were in resisting my probe. Having someone around me who can keep secrets and is willing to defend them so violently is never a good thing." Voldemort flicked his wand, and the fire in the fireplaced died down to glowing embers. "Now you have a choice. Live or die, it's easy as that. I do see the wisdom in having you as an ally, Mr. Ashworth, but having you as an ally with free will would be much more of a risk than I am willing to take. I am, however, not a bloodthirsty barbarian. You're free to leave, if you will consent to be put under the Imperius spell."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you will die."
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