Harry kept on telling Voldemort about how his Muggle family had treated him. After speaking about his aunt and uncle, Harry moved on to his cousin.
"And Dudley, my cousin," Harry continued, his gaze distant as he remembered those painful memories. "He was a spoiled bully, treated like a prince by my aunt and uncle. They showered him with gifts and attention, while I was left to fend for myself. Dudley and his gang of friends tormented me at every opportunity. I was the freak, the odd one out. They were overfeeding him while all I was getting was leftovers. Whenever he broke something or went against my uncle behind his back, Dudley would blame me for it. I'm sure my uncle knew about this, yet he still punished me."
Voldemort remained silent. Letting Harry express himself. He needed to let everything out. The more he talked, the more his hatred would grow.
"They starved me, made me wear Dudley's old, oversized clothes. I was never allowed to enjoy a proper meal. The scraps were my portion as if I were a beggar in my own home. And then there were the chores, endless chores, meant to break my spirit. They took pleasure in making me feel worthless, like I didn't deserve any better."
"Then on my eleventh birthday," Harry began, his eyes distant as he revisited the memory. "That day, letters came, and my uncle ordered me to collect them. One of them was addressed to me. Before that, I never received a letter. When my uncle saw that, he took the letter and prevented me from reading it. Later, he even burned that letter."
"He did everything to prevent me from reading those letters. First, he ignored them, thinking they would just go away. But when they kept coming, he took more drastic measures."
As Harry spoke, he pondered why. He was their family. Why did they have to treat him like that? Was it just because he could use magic? Was that his sin?
Harry took a moment to compose himself, wiping away the unshed tears that clung to his lashes. "It was a life of constant fear, loneliness, and humiliation. The Dursleys made sure I felt like an outcast, unworthy of love or kindness. And all the while, Dumbledore knew. He knew and did nothing. He left me there, in that hellhole, for years."
Harry realized that he had had enough. If ever they met again, then he would not let them treat him like that. He would show them he was no longer the weak child.
"Dumbledore," Voldemort finally said, "He allowed you to endure such hardships, knowing the pain you faced within those walls. What kind of protector leaves a child in the clutches of tormentors? If I'm not wrong, Dumbledore must have especially put you there so that you live a miserable life. Later on, it would be so much easier to manipulate you."
Voldemort then continued, "You are intelligent enough, Harry. You have all these explanations and even personally live through all these events in your life. The path in front of us is not an easy one."
Then the tension in the room changed.
Voldemort no longer had that smile on his face.
Instead, it was replaced by a cold and calculating expression. Voldemort, his crimson eyes narrowing, regarded Harry with a scrutinizing gaze.
Harry felt a shiver. For a moment there, he completely forgot how terrifying Voldemort was.
Voldemort spoke in a low tone. "I must be certain, Harry, that you are up to the task. Dumbledore is such an opponent that I can risk a single mistake. If you feel that you are too weak, then I can only abandon you. If the simple thought of torture or taking a life makes you hesitate, Harry, then you are doomed to be a pawn of Dumbledore. That is why I need that confirmation from you. Will you be able to do it, Harry?"
Harry didn't answer.
He couldn't.
The words were lodged in his throat. "I..." Harry hesitated, his mind a battlefield.
There was the issue of killing and torture, but Harry was more concerned with Voldemort talking about abandoning him.
He is the only one that I have left. The only one who is willing to help me. If he abandoned me then...
The memories of his parents and Dumbledore's manipulation.
Harry's hands trembled slightly. Not from fear. Not anymore.
From something else.
Clarity.
He remembered every time the Dursleys locked him away for no reason.
Every time Dumbledore turned his back and insisted it was "for the greater good."
Every time someone told him to "be strong," they did nothing to help him.
"I will." Harry declared, "If that is what is needed to avenge my parents." The resolve in his eyes met Voldemort's unwavering gaze.
Voldemort, satisfied with Harry's response, nodded subtly. "Then, Harry, you should listen to my every word. If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I tell you to torture, you torture. If I tell you to kill a Muggle, you kill without hesitation. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Harry replied, his voice low.
"You say that now," Voldemort murmured. "But I know how hearts can falter when faced with reality. When the blood is real, when the screams echo in your ears, when the eyes of the one you strike look up at you, asking why…
Will you hesitate then, Harry?"
Harry didn't look away, and the answer came all the same. "No."
Voldemort's expression softened. "Good. Your cooperation is crucial, Harry. Now, for the time being, you'll need to stay hidden. The world is still searching for you, and Dumbledore's influence extends far and wide. But don't worry, with me here now, you won't be treated unfairly."