It's All Just Temporary with a Bit of Necromancy

Chapter 4: Prove It

Gathering up that Gryffindor courage, he raised his hands to the shirt collar and pulled down; revealing the mark to the room. "Look familiar?" he asked quietly, watching Voldemorts face for the moment of recognition. He didn't have to wait long, he heard gasps among the Death Eaters, knowing they recognized it too. "Apparently, this means I've gone Dark. Can't have the Light's Savior turn Dark, now can we?" His voice was soft but the bitterness that edged it was clearly evident. "So Dumbledore saw to trying to cure me when his attempt at binding me failed."

Voldemorts' eyes flicked from the symbol to Harry's face multiple times as he processed Harry's words. "Dumbledore tried to bind your inheritance?" He asked slowly. Harry nodded and released his shirt collar. "That would have killed you."

"So I've been told," Harry replied simply. Voldemort glanced at him once more before starting to pace, obviously thinking everything through.

"Prove it." Harry blinked. He hadn't been expecting that, though he really should have. Of course, Voldemort wouldn't just trust the mark he would need evidence.

"Fair enough. There is just a slight problem." Voldemort looked gleeful as if he was being proven right that Harry was lying. Harry saw him fingering the yew wand. "I can't control it. As of right now, it seems that I need strong emotions, typically anger or fear in order for it to work."

"How have you come to this reasoning?"

"I've already killed twice," Harry replied simply. "My uncle and a woman Dumbledore enlisted in the binding ritual. Both had heightened emotions involved." Voldemort seemed to be considering this. If Harry stared at the man intently enough he could almost forget their silent audience.

"You mean to say that you don't feel anger towards me?" His question seemed almost innocently curious and Harry could understand why.

"No, I don't. I mean I can't very well hate the man who might be my ticket to better things."

"Then who?"

Harry thought about that for a moment. "Two people. Bellatrix Lestrange or Peter Pettigrew. Take your pick." Harry hated them both and so he wasn't too fussed about which he would have to kill to prove his honesty. He hated Dolores Umbridge too but it would take more time to bring her here.

"Wormtail, come forward," Voldemort finally said and there was a sniveling whimper at the outskirt of the crowd. Just the sound made Harry sneer in disgust and he didn't even bother to hide his revulsion, which seemed to intrigue Voldemort whose eyes never left his face as the crowd parted and someone pushed Pettigrew forward. The crowd closed up again and Harry caught a few eager faces but he ignored them.

Instead, he focused on Pettigrew. The man who had betrayed his parents. The man who helped cause him to be an orphan. The man who had framed Sirius, helping instigate the events which led him to the Dursley's doorstep. This man might not have directly done any of it but his cowardice was definitely the precipice from where it all cascaded down. Harry felt his hatred about the Dursleys, his hatred over Sirius's imprisonment, his hatred over his parents' deaths engulf him as he stared at the sniveling rat-like man. He wondered absently if the ease at which anger and hatred overtook him should be cause for worry. The man in question was prostrating himself between Voldemort and Harry as if unsure who he should be showing the most attention.

The hatred came to a boiling point as Harry felt the icy fire start to slide down his skin once again and the heady high engulfed his senses once more, he breathed out a sigh of relief and satisfaction as the feeling claimed him. He gracefully offered down his hand to the man on the floor. Startled and still unsure about what was happening because he had been in the back and too short to see what was occurring, Pettigrew took hold of Harry's offered hand only to then start gasping as the air left his lungs. He couldn't pull his hand away as his skin slowly started to turn grey. Harry again observed everything very calmly while he felt the icy fire obey his wishes and basked in the power rush he was feeling. He hadn't really been able to observe his power before. With his uncle, it had all happened so fast and then he had been stunned and the woman had been farther away.

Pettigrew finally gave a last gasp before crumpling to the floor, grey and lifeless, his hand finally free to fall from Harry's grasp. Harry was oblivious to all around him while he continued to absorb and revel in the high the death produced. Another death justly delivered, some primal part of him thought with satisfaction. After probably a minute or so, Harry was able to gather control of himself once again and come back to reality, though he still felt slightly dazed.

He saw the awed and fearful gazes from the Death Eaters out of his peripherals but he only stared into the red eyes of Voldemort who looked like he had just been given his Christmas gift early. At least judging by his eyes, the rest of his face remained impassive.

"Well, well, well, it seems you were telling the truth. Harry Potter is a Necromancer." The words were whispered but carried across the room and Harry felt a chill creep up his spine as the words caressed him. "Yes, I do believe we can make a deal now." Harry refused to show the relief that he felt at those words and merely nodded.

"Great. However, might we retire somewhere privately? I don't want to conduct negotiations on such a public scale, no matter how captivated our audience."

"How can I know you don't still work for Dumbledore and will use your gifts against me?" The man didn't seem at all concerned about this possibility, merely seeming to ask out of formality.

"You don't," Harry shrugged with a small grin. "But are you going to let that stop you from hearing this deal of mine?"

Voldemort continued observing him for another minute before conceding his head in a regal nod. "Very well. Leave us." The hissed words hung in the air a moment before the Death Eaters caught on to the dismissal order and scampered out of the hallway to where they could apparate away. Harry spotted his classmates, out of the corner of his eye because he refused to be the first to drop his gaze, looking back at him while their parents dragged them out. There were a few minions that lingered, possibly concerned over leaving their Master with a Necromancer. Harry assumed they were the Inner Circle but Voldemort dismissed them as well.

Once they were alone, Voldemort then gestured for Harry to follow him into a side room. Nervously, Harry followed the man and couldn't help his surprise at the sight of a small sitting room. It held two plush couches of dark green and a dark wooden coffee table atop a decorative rug with some bookshelves lining the walls. It was rather cozy and incredibly offputting.

Voldemort sat down in one of the couches and gestured for Harry to take the other one. Stiffly, Harry did so and felt incredibly awkward compared to the snake-like man across from him. The two former enemies sat in silence, both observing the other. The man across from him was just as vivid as the one in his nightmares, there was no difference between this monster and the one from his past: the same slitted nostrils, the same alabaster skin, the bald head, the crimson eyes, the skeletal hands.

Could he really do this?

"So you wanted to make a deal. I'm listening, Harry Potter."