Voldemort's expression softened slightly. The boy was finally his pawn.
"Luckily, I don't have to use the many backup plans that I made in case the boy refuses," thought Voldemort.
Voldemort's expression softened slightly.
"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."
Now it was time to make Harry feel at ease.
With a swift wave of Voldemort's wand, the cellar underwent a remarkable transformation.
The dim, damp space was starting to change.
The very first thing to remove was the darkness. Instead of just a single light source from the lamp, the room was now well-lit.
Next, the hard, cold floor changed into green tiles. The same green color adorned the side walls with different snake-like images.
In the corner of the cellar, a bed materialized.
Harry never imagined a bed like this.
The mattress looked like one of the highest quality. Something Harry had only seen in a rich household.
His bed at his uncle's or even that in Hogwarts was nothing compared to this.
Harry turned, and in the middle of the room, there was a long table adorned with an array of delicious foods and a selection of drinks.
Voldemort's wand pointed at the lavish arrangement as he explained, "This is where you'll stay for now, Harry. You'll be hidden from prying eyes, and with my protection, you'll live a life far removed from the torment you endured. Consider it a glimpse of the world that awaits you outside the clutches of Dumbledore's influence."
Harry, though initially taken aback by the sudden luxury, felt gratitude.
"Eat well, Harry, and don't worry. This is not the place you will be forever. I will occasionally take you out with me on missions." With that said, Voldemort began walking away toward the stairs. Unlike the rest of the time, when the door closed, Harry found that the room was still well-lit.
Behind the door, Voldemort was walking up the stairs.
"Wow, I should perhaps award myself a Merlin Order of First Class for my acting skill. That boy is nothing more than a puppet that I control." Voldemort let out a small laugh.
Later that night, Harry found the door to the cellar open, and Voldemort was back in the cellar. "As promised, we are going out tonight. I will show you the disease that we are trying to eliminate. Follow me," as he finished speaking, Voldemort went back up.
Harry saw the door remain open. After such a long time, he was finally going outside and not being confined to four walls.
Harry ran to the door.
Afraid that the door might close.
Afraid that this was another nightmare. That he would remain confined in the cellar.
As he took the stairs up, he found himself in a corridor, and Voldemort was standing in the middle of it.
"Harry, have you ever Apparated?" Voldemort inquired, his eyes locked onto Harry's.
Harry hesitated, his mind recalling that it was a form of magical transport. "No, I haven't," he admitted.
Voldemort nodded, his expression unchanged. "Apparition is a crucial skill, especially for those who wish to navigate the complexities of our world discreetly. If you obey my order well, I will teach it to you."
Next, Voldemort extended his arm. "Hold on to my arm tightly, Harry."
Harry nodded.
Harry reached forward and grabbed Voldemort's sleeve.
Harry felt Voldemort's arm twist away from him and redoubled his grip; the next thing he knew, everything went black; he was being pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull and then, it was gone.
He gulped great lungfuls of cold night air and opened his streaming eyes. He felt as though he had just been forced through a very tight rubber tube.
It was a few seconds before he realized that the corridor and the stairs leading to the cellar had vanished.
His comprehension catching up with his senses, Harry realized that he had just Apparated for the first time in his life.
He and Voldemort were now standing at what appeared to be the top of a building.
Was the sky always so beautiful? There were so many stars.
When was the last time he was in the open air like this?
The cool night breeze brushed against his face, and Harry couldn't help but take a deep breath, savoring the sensation of freedom.
Beside him, Voldemort stood with a smile on his face. "Get used to this happiness. As long as you keep following my words, you will find happiness at every step."
"Yes... my... Lord." Harry found those words automatically escaping his lips.
"Welcome to London," Voldemort said.
"Look down, Harry," Voldemort instructed. Harry obeyed, his gaze focusing on the streets below.
At first, it seemed like any ordinary city night, but then he noticed something unusual. People were lying on the sidewalks, covered in small, dirty blankets or huddled in corners.
"What... what's happening?" Harry questioned, his eyes narrowing in confusion.
Voldemort's voice cut through the night, revealing a stark reality. "These are the ones the Muggles cast aside, the forgotten. They call them the homeless. It's a glimpse into the world Dumbledore wants. The same world he left you in."
Harry's eyes widened as he took in the sight. He remembered the cupboard under the stairs. The hunger. The loneliness. The cold.
The concept of homelessness was entirely foreign to him. In the wizarding world, everyone had a place... a home, whether it was a grand manor or a modest dwelling. The idea that some were left to sleep on the streets, exposed to the elements, struck a chord within him.
As Harry observed, a group of men walked past below. They laughed and pushed each other. One of them kicked a sleeping person on the sidewalk. Another man laughed louder and threw a bottle at a pile of blankets.
Harry's eyes widened. "Why… why are they doing that?"
Voldemort's gaze remained fixed on the scene, his expression impassive. "These muggles do not even have compassion for their own, now imagine what they would do to us."