Suppression of light... Obsession to light

Last time~

Marvolo's eyes gleamed with malevolence. "But, for now, let us focus on the Ministry. Tom, I want you to begin making arrangements for our followers to infiltrate the Ministry. And, Rodolphus, I want you to start gathering intelligence on the Ministry's current leadership and security measures."

Marvolo's gaze swept the room one last time, his eyes lingering on each of the Death Eaters. "This meeting is at an end," he declared, his voice cold and commanding. "You are all dismissed. Leave now, and do not forget the tasks that have been assigned to you. Our plan is in motion, and I expect nothing but success from each and every one of you."

With that, the Death Eaters rose from their seats, their faces twisted with cruel smiles. They bowed low to Marvolo, before turning to leave the dark, dank chamber. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the room, growing fainter as they disappeared into the darkness.

Present~

After Death Eaters left Marvolo and Tom only one left in the room also left for their work.

Marvolo and Tom Riddle strode into the dimly lit chamber where Harry lay bound. The oppressive air in the room was thick with tension, the emerald in the collar around Harry's neck pulsing faintly. It cast a ghostly green glow on his pale face, illuminating the faint lines of determination etched even in his unconscious state.

Marvolo gestured for Tom to close the heavy oak door behind them. "It's time," he said, his voice low and commanding. "We need him awake and compliant. The potions are ready?"

Tom nodded, producing a goblet filled with a dark, steaming liquid from the folds of his robes. "A careful blend of Persuasion Draught, Mental Clarity Elixir, and a trace of the Loyalty Elixir. Enough to erode his defenses but leave his mind intact." His lips twisted into a cruel smile. "He won't even realize the subtle changes until it's too late."

Marvolo’s sharp eyes gleamed with approval. "Perfect. Now, let’s wake our guest."

Marvolo approached Harry and waved his wand with a muttered incantation. The boy stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. Confusion clouded his emerald gaze before it sharpened into wariness. His hands instinctively tugged at the collar around his neck, but its dark enchantments left him weak and drained.

"Good evening, Harry," Marvolo said smoothly, his tone laced with false civility. "You’ve had quite the rest. I imagine you’re hungry?"

Harry’s glare was sharp. "I’d rather starve than accept anything from you."

Tom chuckled, stepping forward. "Oh, Harry, always so dramatic. But you’ll find that resistance is... unwise." He held out the goblet, the steam curling ominously. "Drink. You’ll need your strength."

Harry recoiled slightly, his instincts screaming at him to refuse. "What did you put in that?"

Marvolo crouched beside him, his voice deceptively gentle. "It’s just sustenance, Harry. Do you think we’d poison you after all the effort we’ve gone to? No, we have plans for you. Great plans."

Harry’s stomach churned with hunger, but his mistrust burned brighter. "I don’t want anything from you."

Marvolo's smile turned cold. "You misunderstand your position, Harry. You don’t have a choice." He gestured to Tom, who muttered a spell. The goblet floated to Harry’s lips, the collar tightening slightly as if to warn him against further defiance.

The liquid touched Harry's lips, warm and bitter. He tried to turn his head away, but the collar’s enchantments forced his mouth open. The potion slid down his throat, leaving a strange, tingling warmth in its wake.

"There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?" Marvolo murmured, his gaze fixed intently on Harry.

For a moment, nothing happened. Harry glared at them, his defiance undiminished. But then, slowly, a strange calm began to seep into his mind. His thoughts grew quieter, his anger less sharp. He frowned, trying to grasp the fire that had fueled him, but it seemed distant, as if buried under layers of fog.

Tom watched him closely, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "You feel it, don’t you?" he said softly. "That subtle shift. The doubts creeping in. It’s just the beginning, Harry."

Harry’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening as he fought against the foreign feelings invading his mind. "What... what did you do to me?" he demanded, his voice trembling with anger and fear.

Marvolo straightened, towering over him. "We’ve merely helped you see reason," he said smoothly. "The potions are a tool, Harry. A way to clear away the noise and help you understand your true potential."

Harry shook his head, trying to will the fog away. "You think this will break me?" he spat, his voice steadier now. "You’re wrong."

Tom smirked. "Oh, we don’t need to break you, Harry. We just need to guide you. The collar, the potions—they’re merely stepping stones. Soon, you’ll see that resistance is futile."

Marvolo leaned down, his voice a low whisper. "And when you do, Harry, you’ll thank us."

Harry’s vision blurred for a moment, the fog in his mind growing thicker. He struggled to hold onto the faces of his friends, his memories of laughter and love. They were his anchor, his reason to fight.

But Marvolo and Tom saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes, and they exchanged a knowing glance.

"Rest now, Harry," Marvolo said, straightening. "You’ll need your strength for what’s to come."

With a wave of his wand, Harry slumped back into unconsciousness, the collar’s emerald pulsing softly in the dark room. Tom set the goblet aside, his expression triumphant.

"He’s stronger than I anticipated," Tom admitted, his tone almost grudging.

Marvolo smirked. "Strength is malleable, Tom. And when it bends to our will, it will serve us well."

The two Dark Lords left the chamber, their minds already turning to the next stage of their plan. In the quiet room, Harry lay motionless, the battle for his soul raging beneath the surface.

Hours passed, and the chamber remained eerily silent except for the faint hum of magic emanating from the collar around Harry’s neck. Deep in his subconscious, Harry fought the effects of the potions. The fog clouded his thoughts, but his memories fought to break through. Images of Ron and Hermione, their unwavering support, flickered like distant stars. Ginny’s laughter, Dumbledore’s wisdom, and even Snape’s grudging respect anchored him in defiance.

But then, whispers began to creep into the edges of his mind.

"Why fight? They’re too powerful. You’re just one person..."

"No!" Harry thought, his resolve hardening. "I’m not alone. I never have been."

The emerald in the collar flared momentarily, as if sensing his resistance. Harry’s body tensed, but he refused to let the dark magic overwhelm him.

Meanwhile, in a grand, shadowy hall elsewhere in the fortress, Marvolo and Tom stood before a gathering of Death Eaters. The cloaked figures knelt in silent obedience, awaiting their masters' commands.

"The boy resists," Tom admitted, his voice cutting through the room. "He’s stronger than anticipated, but his strength is also his weakness. We will use it to mold him."

Marvolo stepped forward, his presence commanding. "The potions are only the beginning. Harry Potter’s loyalty is tied to his memories, his love for the weak bonds he’s formed with his friends and allies. We will sever those ties, one by one."

A Death Eater hesitantly raised their head. "And if he continues to resist, my lord?"

Marvolo’s expression turned icy. "Then we escalate. Pain, confusion, isolation—there are many tools at our disposal. He will break."

Tom’s lips curled into a smirk. "But he won’t need to. By the time we’re done, he’ll think he’s joined us of his own free will. The potions will ensure it."

Back in the chamber, Harry’s eyes fluttered open. The fog in his mind was thicker now, but his determination burned like a hidden ember. He scanned the room, noting every detail: the enchanted collar, the faint magical wards humming around him, and the distant sound of footsteps.

He needed a plan. The potions were affecting him, clouding his thoughts, but they hadn’t erased who he was. Not yet.

The door creaked open, and Tom entered, carrying a tray of food. His expression was unnervingly calm, his dark eyes gleaming with calculated intent.

"Awake again, are we?" Tom said, setting the tray down on a small table. "Good. You’ll need your strength for what’s ahead."

Harry glared at him, his voice hoarse but defiant. "Whatever you’ve done to me, it won’t work."

Tom chuckled softly, almost amused. "Ah, Harry. So much fire. That’s why you’re so valuable. But fire can be harnessed, directed. You’ll see that soon enough."

He gestured toward the tray, which held a simple meal: bread, cheese, and a cup of water.

Harry’s stomach growled involuntarily, but he narrowed his eyes. "What’s in it this time? More potions?"

Tom smirked. "Nothing you won’t eventually welcome. But let’s not make this harder than it needs to be. Eat, Harry. Or don’t. Either way, we’ll continue."

Harry clenched his fists, his mind racing. If he refused, he’d grow weaker, and that would play into their hands. But if he ate, he risked further enchantments.

"Decide quickly," Tom said, stepping back. "Your next lesson begins soon."

Harry’s gaze flickered to the food. A plan began to form, hazy but determined. He would play along for now, conserve his energy, and bide his time.

With deliberate slowness, he reached for the bread. Tom’s smirk deepened, but Harry ignored him. If they thought he was breaking, they’d lower their guard.

And when they did, Harry would be ready.

Harry chewed the bread slowly, each bite a rebellion against the dread pooling in his stomach. He could taste something off—an unnatural bitterness masked by the bread’s crust. It confirmed his suspicions: more potions. They were weaving their magic into every fiber of his being, trying to poison his mind.

But Harry didn’t let his expression falter. He met Tom’s gaze with unwavering defiance.

"Good," Tom murmured, his tone laced with sinister satisfaction. "You’re learning. Submission is the first step toward greatness."

Harry didn’t respond, keeping his eyes locked on Tom as he drank a sip of the water, which carried the same acrid aftertaste. Inside, he seethed, but he knew he had to stay outwardly calm. Any sign of resistance would only amuse them further—or worse, escalate their torment.

Back in the grand hall, Marvolo watched the exchange through a magical projection that hovered in the air before him. His expression was a mixture of fascination and possessiveness.

"The boy is exceptional," Marvolo said softly, more to himself than the Death Eaters gathered around him. "His resilience is... intoxicating. It will make his eventual fall all the more exquisite."

Bellatrix Lestrange, kneeling nearby, tilted her head, her eyes wild with zealotry. "My lord, if I may... why waste time with potions and games? Let me break him. I’ll carve loyalty into his very soul."

Marvolo’s gaze snapped to her, and the room fell deathly silent. "You think me foolish, Bella?" he asked, his voice a deadly whisper.

Bellatrix immediately lowered her head, trembling. "N-no, my lord. I only meant—"

"You meant to question my methods," Marvolo interrupted, his tone cold. "The boy’s will is not something to shatter carelessly. It must be shaped, molded. Only then will he truly belong to us."

His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped further. "And he will belong to us. Every thought, every memory, every shred of his soul. He will kneel before me and thank me for the honor."

In the chamber, Harry felt the potions starting to take hold. His vision blurred momentarily, and a strange warmth seeped into his limbs. His mind felt heavy, thoughts slipping through his grasp like sand. But amid the haze, a voice—his own—whispered in defiance.

Don’t let them win. Remember who you are. Remember why you fight.

Tom watched him intently, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering light of the enchanted chamber. "You’re starting to feel it, aren’t you?" he said softly, almost tenderly. "The edges of your mind softening, bending. It’s a kindness, really. We’re giving you clarity, Harry. Purpose."

Harry clenched his fists under the table, his nails digging into his palms to keep himself grounded. "You’re delusional," he muttered, his voice thick but steady.

Tom’s expression darkened, but his smirk never wavered. "You think so now. But soon, you’ll see the truth. The world you fight for is broken, Harry. Weak. And those you love? They’ll betray you the moment it suits them."

Tom leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We’re your future. Your salvation. You’ll understand, in time."

Harry’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He couldn’t trust himself to speak without betraying his growing struggle against the magic coursing through him.

Hours later, alone in the chamber, Harry sat with his back against the cold stone wall. The potions’ effects came in waves, each stronger than the last. Whispers clawed at the edges of his mind, some familiar, others foreign.

"Why fight? They’ll only hurt you more."

"They’re right, you know. The Order never cared about you."

"Join them. Stop the pain."

Harry pressed his hands against his temples, his breathing ragged. "No," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I won’t—"

But then, another voice broke through the cacophony. This one was different—calm, commanding, and disturbingly intimate.

"Harry..."

He froze, his heart pounding. It was Marvolo’s voice, clear and resonant, as if the Dark Lord were standing right beside him.

"You’re tired. I can feel it. Let go of the fight. Let me guide you. You’re so much more than they ever allowed you to be."

"No!" Harry shouted, slamming his fist against the wall. "Get out of my head!"

The collar around his neck flared with dark magic, sending a searing pain through his body. He cried out, collapsing to the ground, but the voice only grew stronger.

"You’ll see, Harry. You’ll thank me."

As darkness crept into the edges of his vision, Harry clung desperately to his memories. But they were fading, slipping further out of reach.

And in their place, the whispers grew louder.

Marvolo lounged in his high-backed chair, his fingers steepled as he watched the projection of Harry’s trembling form in the chamber. A small, satisfied smile played on his lips. Tom stood nearby, arms crossed, his expression less pleased.

"The potions are working," Tom said, his voice clipped. "But it’s slow. He’s resisting harder than expected."

Marvolo chuckled, the sound low and almost affectionate. "Of course, he is. Harry wouldn’t be Harry without that fire in his soul. It’s what makes him so... captivating."

Tom frowned, his jaw tightening. "We need results, Marvolo. The longer he resists, the greater the chance he’ll find a way to escape or fight back. What’s your next move?"

Marvolo’s smile widened, and he gestured lazily toward the projection. "Patience, my boy. Harry is not some crude tool to be bent and broken. He is a masterpiece in the making. Every stroke, every choice we make, must be deliberate."

Tom’s frustration was palpable. "And what exactly do you see when you look at him? What is this ‘masterpiece’ you’re trying to create?"

Marvolo turned to him fully, his eyes gleaming with an almost unholy light. "Ah, Tom, you ask the right questions at last. Shall I tell you?" He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though the room was empty save for them. "I see a Harry Potter who is mine in every way. His mind, his heart, his soul—all shaped by my hand."

Tom’s frown deepened, but he didn’t interrupt as Marvolo continued, his tone turning almost reverent.

"He will be a creature of unparalleled power, unburdened by the naive ideals that once shackled him. He will see the truth of this world and embrace it with open arms. And most importantly..." Marvolo’s eyes darkened, his smile taking on a dangerous edge. "He will love me for it. He will kneel at my side, not out of fear or compulsion, but because he will believe—no, know—that it is his rightful place."

Tom shifted uncomfortably, his arms tightening across his chest. "You sound... obsessed."

Marvolo’s laughter rang out, echoing off the stone walls. "Obsessed? Perhaps. But tell me, Tom, can you imagine the beauty of it? The Boy Who Lived, the symbol of light and hope, remade into my most loyal creation? The world will tremble at the sight of him."

Tom hesitated, his voice quieter now. "And if he doesn’t break? If he doesn’t see things your way?"

Marvolo’s expression softened, but there was no kindness in his gaze—only a chilling certainty. "Oh, he will. Harry was always meant to be mine. It’s written in his very essence, whether he realizes it yet or not. Every push, every potion, every whispered word... they’re all leading him to the same conclusion. There’s no escaping it."

He leaned back in his chair, his smile returning. "But you asked about the next step, didn’t you? We’ll deepen the potions’ effects, introduce memories and dreams that blur the lines between reality and illusion. Let him see a world where the Order abandons him, where we are his only constant. Love is the ultimate weapon, Tom, and we’ll make him believe ours is the only love he has left."

Tom’s lips pressed into a thin line. "And if that fails?"

Marvolo’s gaze turned icy. "It won’t."

The two fell silent for a moment, the weight of Marvolo’s conviction filling the room.

Tom finally spoke, his tone reluctant. "You really think he’ll thank you in the end?"

Marvolo’s smile returned, this time softer, almost genuine. "Not just thank me, Tom. He’ll cherish me. He’ll stand by my side, not as a prisoner, but as my equal in power and purpose. My Harry."

Tom said nothing, his thoughts unreadable, as Marvolo turned back to the projection. Harry was curled against the wall of the chamber, trembling but still defiant.

Marvolo’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of a promise. "Soon, my dear boy. Soon, you’ll understand. And when you do, you’ll never want to leave."

Tom leaned against the cold stone wall, his sharp eyes fixed on Marvolo as the older wizard paced the room. The magical projection of Harry flickered in the dim light, his image casting a haunting allure that neither of them could resist. Though Tom’s expression remained calm, a spark of possessive intensity burned beneath his composed exterior.

"You’ve mentioned how you turned the Harry of your future to your side," Tom began, his voice smooth yet commanding. "Tell me exactly how you accomplished it. I want to know every detail."

Marvolo stopped, turning to face him, his lips curling into a smile that was both pleased and dark. His eyes glinted with obsessive fervor, as though the mere thought of Harry filled him with a twisted kind of joy.

"Ah, Tom," Marvolo said softly, his voice reverent. "It was a process, one that required patience and precision. The Harry of my future was so much like this one—spirited, stubborn, full of misguided ideals. But I molded him, shaped him into something perfect. And now, we’ll do the same here."

Tom stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "Explain how. What did you do to him?"

Marvolo’s smile widened, his tone laced with possessive pride. "It began with isolation. Harry believed himself surrounded by allies—friends, mentors, people who claimed to care for him. But I stripped all that away. I showed him the truth: that those people didn’t truly love him, that they used him, betrayed him. He fought me, of course, but I broke through his walls."

Tom’s eyes darkened, and he found himself imagining the same scenario with the Harry before him. "And he gave in just like that?"

Marvolo laughed, the sound soft but sinister. "Not immediately. Harry is fierce, and that fire makes him all the more irresistible. But I made him see the futility of resistance. I orchestrated everything—his pain, his solitude, even his smallest comforts. I became his world. Every time he defied me, I made him feel the weight of that choice. Every time he obeyed, I rewarded him. I became his salvation, and in time, he couldn’t bear to be without me."

Tom’s chest tightened as Marvolo spoke, the possessive pull he felt toward Harry growing stronger with every word. He couldn’t deny it anymore—the thought of claiming Harry, of bending him to his will, consumed him.

Marvolo stepped closer, his tone almost conspiratorial. "You feel it too, don’t you? That need to make him yours? It’s intoxicating, isn’t it? Knowing that someone so powerful, so bright, could be utterly devoted to you. To us."

Tom’s voice dropped, colder now but tinged with undeniable hunger. "I do feel it. The idea of him submitting, of seeing that defiance in his eyes turn to devotion… It’s maddening. He’s meant to be ours."

Marvolo nodded, his expression one of approval and satisfaction. "Yes. Harry was born to belong to us, Tom. It’s his destiny. He may not realize it now, but he will. They always do."

Tom’s lips curled into a smirk, his mind already racing with plans. "And if this Harry doesn’t break as easily as the one from your future?"

Marvolo’s eyes gleamed with possessive certainty. "Then we’ll break him again and again until he does. It’s not just a possibility, Tom—it’s inevitable. Harry is ours, whether he admits it or not. He will see it in time. And when he does, he’ll crave it—he’ll crave us."

Tom felt a thrill of anticipation at the idea, his own obsession with Harry growing stronger. The thought of molding Harry, of making him utterly theirs, was a fire he could no longer ignore.

"Then we’ll make him see," Tom said, his voice steady but filled with dark promise. "Whatever it takes, we’ll remind him where he belongs."

Marvolo smiled, his gaze lingering on Harry’s image with an almost reverent possessiveness. "Yes. My Harry. Our Harry. Soon, he’ll realize there is no escape. He belongs to us—now and forever."

Tom’s smirk widened, his own gaze locking onto the flickering image of Harry. The two of them stood there, united in their obsession, their plans for Harry taking on a dangerous intensity that neither could deny.

Tom leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest as his mind raced with possibilities. Marvolo watched him with a small, satisfied smile, pleased to see the intensity reflected in his younger counterpart.

"So," Tom began after a moment, his voice soft but tinged with an edge of malice, "what do we do about them now? The friends he clings to, the ones who think they still have some influence over him?"

Marvolo's eyes darkened, his smile curling into something feral. "You sever them from him, Tom. Completely. You isolate him, make him see how unnecessary they are—how they’ve always failed him. Plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Turn their very presence into poison for him."

Tom’s lips quirked upward in a half-smile. "Yes. Distance him from them, erode the bonds he foolishly clings to. But what if they resist? What if they fight to reclaim him?"

Marvolo laughed lowly, a sound that sent a shiver down Tom’s spine—not from fear, but from recognition. It was the laugh of a man who knew exactly how to wield power. "Let them try. Their resistance only gives you more justification to crush them. Show him how futile their efforts are, how weak they are compared to us. To you."

Tom’s eyes gleamed, his possessiveness now sharpened into strategy. "And once he begins to rely solely on us… what then? How do we keep him loyal? How do we make sure he doesn’t falter again?"

Marvolo leaned forward, his expression almost tender, though his words were anything but. "You give him no choice but to stay loyal. Every bond, every memory, every emotion tied to anyone but us—erase it. Replace it with yourself. With us. With love."

Tom frowned slightly. "Love?"

Marvolo chuckled again, his voice softening. "Not the kind he thinks he knows. Not the fleeting, shallow attachments he’s clung to all his life. No, Tom. You teach him a deeper love. A consuming love. One that binds him so completely that he cannot imagine life without you. Without us."

Tom tilted his head, considering Marvolo’s words. "And if he resists? If he fights against that love?"

Marvolo’s smile was wicked. "Then you remind him, Tom. Remind him who holds the power, who is willing to do anything for him, even if it means breaking him down piece by piece. And when he has nothing left but you, he’ll understand. He’ll thank you."

Tom’s fingers stilled, his gaze fixed on Marvolo. He felt the same pull, the same dark longing that Marvolo described. He wanted Harry to belong to him, utterly and completely, without question or hesitation. The thought of Harry looking at anyone else, trusting anyone else, was unbearable.

"And what about the others?" Tom asked suddenly, his voice cold. "The ones who cling to him, who refuse to let him go? They’ll try to intervene."

Marvolo’s expression twisted with disgust. "You deal with them the way I did. Make them suffer for their interference. Make Harry see their weakness, their futility. Their screams will serve as a reminder to him of who truly stands by his side."

Tom nodded slowly, his mind already racing with plans. "Yes. Break his faith in them. Show him how insignificant they are compared to us."

Marvolo leaned back, his smile returning. "Good, Tom. You’re learning. Together, we’ll reshape Harry into someone who will never leave us. Someone who will love us as we deserve."

Tom’s lips curled into a smile that matched Marvolo’s. "Yes. He’ll belong to us. Forever."

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, their shared obsession palpable. They were united in their purpose, their dark desires intertwined as they plotted the next steps. Harry would be theirs, and no one—not friends, nor enemies—would stand in their way.

Harry sat on the cold stone floor of his dimly lit room, his knees drawn to his chest. The lingering taste of the meal they had given him still clung to his tongue, making him uneasy. He had tried to ignore the slight haze creeping into his thoughts since eating, but it was becoming harder to think clearly.

His hands trembled slightly as he brushed his unruly hair from his face. He could feel something shifting inside him—something unnatural. Memories felt murky, emotions muted. He clenched his fists, trying to hold on to himself, to remember why he was here and why he needed to resist.

The door creaked open, and Harry flinched as Tom stepped inside, his presence filling the room. Tom’s expression was unreadable, his eyes sharp and piercing as they locked onto Harry.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Tom asked, his voice deceptively soft.

Harry looked away, refusing to answer. He didn’t trust his voice not to betray him.

Tom crouched in front of him, tilting his head to meet Harry’s gaze. "Still resisting, I see. It’s admirable, in a way. But futile. You’ll see that soon enough."

"I don’t belong to you," Harry bit out, his voice hoarse but firm.

Tom’s lips curled into a small smile. "Oh, but you do, Harry. You just don’t realize it yet."

Harry glared at him, his green eyes blazing with defiance. "You can’t make me forget them. You can’t make me stop fighting."

Tom’s smile didn’t falter. He reached out, brushing a strand of Harry’s hair from his forehead, his touch both gentle and possessive. "Your strength is remarkable, but you underestimate me. And Marvolo."

At the mention of Marvolo, Harry’s stomach churned. The older version of Tom was even more unsettling, his obsessive gaze and sinister smiles unnerving.

Tom leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We’ll strip away everything that ties you to them, Harry. Every memory, every feeling. And when there’s nothing left but us, you’ll see that this is where you’ve always belonged."

Harry shook his head, his breath hitching. "No. I’ll never—"

Tom’s hand shot out, gripping Harry’s chin firmly, forcing him to look directly into his eyes. The intensity in Tom’s gaze was suffocating.

"You already are, Harry," Tom said, his voice low and dangerous. "The potions, the charms—we’re already in your mind. You’ll try to fight, but every day, it will get harder. Every thought of them will bring you pain, and every thought of us will bring you comfort."

Harry’s eyes widened in fear, his chest tightening as he realized the truth in Tom’s words. The fog in his mind, the unfamiliar pull towards Tom and Marvolo—it wasn’t natural.

"Don’t worry," Tom continued, his grip loosening but his hand remaining on Harry’s cheek. "It’s not all pain. There’s love too. A love so consuming, so overwhelming, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it."

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest, the line between fear and something darker blurring. He hated the way Tom’s voice seeped into his mind, the way it seemed to resonate within him.

Tom finally released him, standing up and looking down at him with an air of triumph. "Rest, Harry. We’ll visit again soon. And when we do, you’ll see. This resistance of yours—it’s only temporary."

He turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Harry remained on the floor, his breaths shaky. He felt trapped, not just by the walls around him but by the growing conflict within his own mind. He clung desperately to his memories of Ron, Hermione, and everyone he cared about, but they felt faint, like echoes in the distance.

The worst part wasn’t the fear. It was the creeping sensation that Tom might be right—that, one day, Harry wouldn’t want to resist anymore.

The room was cold and silent when the door opened again. Harry didn’t look up; he didn’t want to see them. He already knew who it was. The familiar chill that seemed to follow their presence was unmistakable.

Tom entered first, his steps measured and deliberate. Marvolo followed, his older visage radiating a cruel, calculated satisfaction. Together, they filled the room with an oppressive atmosphere, their auras suffocating.

"Harry," Tom began, his voice smooth, almost gentle, though it carried an undercurrent of menace. "It’s time for your next lesson."

Harry clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. "I don’t want anything from you," he spat, though his voice trembled with the effort.

Marvolo chuckled, the sound dark and mocking. "Oh, my dear boy, it’s not about what you want. It’s about what you need. And you need us."

They approached him together, their movements eerily synchronized. Tom crouched down in front of Harry, while Marvolo stood behind, his shadow looming over both of them.

"Fighting will only make it harder," Tom said, his eyes boring into Harry’s. "You’re strong, but strength can be molded. And we will mold you, Harry. Into someone perfect. Into someone ours."

Harry flinched as Marvolo’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder. The grip was firm, possessive, and unyielding.

"You’ll thank us one day," Marvolo murmured, his tone disturbingly tender. "You’ll see that this is what you were always meant for. To be ours, and ours alone."

Harry tried to move, but his body refused to obey. He felt the subtle pull of magic weaving through the air, wrapping around him like invisible chains.

Tom pulled out his wand, the tip glowing faintly. "Let’s begin."

Harry’s heart raced as Tom began murmuring incantations, his voice low and melodic. The words were unfamiliar, ancient, and heavy with power. A sharp, tingling sensation spread through Harry’s body as the first spell settled into him.

"This one," Tom explained, his voice taking on a teaching tone, "will ensure that any thought of leaving us feels unbearable. The further you try to stray, the more it will hurt."

Marvolo’s hand tightened on Harry’s shoulder, a twisted smile on his face. "And this," he added, raising his wand, "is a trigger. Whenever you hear the phrase ‘You’re ours,’ you’ll feel a wave of comfort, safety, and belonging. No matter what, you’ll crave that feeling."

Harry gritted his teeth, trying to block out their words, but the magic was relentless. He could feel it sinking into his mind, burrowing deep, altering something fundamental.

"You’ll find, Harry," Tom continued, "that the harder you resist, the more these spells will reshape you. Soon, resistance will feel unnatural. And submission…" He leaned closer, his lips brushing against Harry’s ear. "Submission will feel like coming home."

Harry’s breathing grew ragged as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything to stop them, but the magic was stronger than his will.

Marvolo crouched down behind him, his voice low and intimate. "You remind me so much of my Harry," he murmured, his tone filled with possessive pride. "He fought too, in the beginning. But in the end, he realized it was futile. And when he accepted it, when he became mine fully—it was beautiful."

Tom’s hand cupped Harry’s chin, forcing him to look up. His eyes were soft, almost tender, but there was no mistaking the cruelty beneath them. "We’ll make you just as beautiful, Harry. You’ll be perfect. Just wait."

Harry’s vision blurred as their combined magic overwhelmed him, his mind swimming in a fog of pain, fear, and something darker—a growing pull he couldn’t explain.

They stayed close, whispering more incantations, weaving more spells and triggers into his very essence. By the time they were done, Harry felt hollow, yet somehow full of foreign emotions that weren’t his own.

Tom and Marvolo finally stepped back, admiring their work with identical smiles of satisfaction.

"You’re progressing well," Marvolo said, his voice dripping with pride. "Soon, you’ll be ours completely."

Tom leaned down one last time, brushing his fingers over Harry’s cheek. "Rest, Harry. You’ll need your strength for what’s to come."

They left together, their laughter echoing in the hallway as the door slammed shut behind them.

Harry remained on the floor, shaking and broken, the magic they had woven into him pulsing with every beat of his heart. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

The room felt colder in their absence, but Harry wasn’t sure if it was the actual temperature or the void they left behind. He curled in on himself, his breath uneven as the weight of their magic settled over him like a suffocating blanket. He could feel it—those spells, those insidious triggers—sinking deeper into his mind.

You’re ours.

The phrase echoed faintly in his thoughts, and for a fleeting moment, a strange warmth replaced the cold. He recoiled from the sensation, horrified at how it lured him, how it promised comfort amidst the chaos.

No, he thought desperately. This isn’t me. This isn’t real.

But the magic begged to differ. The spells wove themselves tighter, whispering promises of peace, safety, belonging. Harry gritted his teeth, his nails digging into his palms to ground himself, to remind himself of who he was.

Or who he had been.

The sound of the door opening again made him flinch violently. He didn’t even have the strength to glare at them as Tom and Marvolo re-entered the room, their presence dominating and suffocating as always.

"You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?" Tom said, his tone almost playful, but his eyes glinted with a predatory light.

Marvolo stepped closer, his older features alight with twisted amusement. "You can’t help it, Harry. That’s the beauty of it. The more you fight, the more those spells take hold. The more they need you to submit."

Harry turned his face away, refusing to look at them. His silence was the only defiance he could still muster.

Tom crouched in front of him again, tilting his head to meet Harry’s gaze. "You’ll learn, Harry. Submission doesn’t have to be painful. It can be freeing. You just have to let go."

Marvolo moved to stand behind Harry, his shadow enveloping the boy entirely. "You remind me of him," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with obsession. "My Harry. He was so stubborn, so fiery. But in the end, he was perfect. He was mine."

Tom’s lips curved into a dark smile as he reached out, brushing a strand of Harry’s hair aside. "Ours," he corrected, the possessive tone matching Marvolo’s.

Marvolo chuckled lowly. "Yes, ours. And you will be too, Harry. There’s no escaping it."

Harry shuddered, his body betraying him as a tear slipped down his cheek. "Why?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Tom’s expression softened, though the cruelty in his gaze never wavered. "Because you belong to us, Harry. And we take care of what’s ours."

Marvolo crouched beside Tom, his hand gripping Harry’s shoulder again, the weight of it heavy and unrelenting. "You’ll thank us one day," he said, his tone disturbingly tender. "You’ll see that this is where you were always meant to be."

Harry closed his eyes, trying to block out their voices, their touch, their overwhelming presence. But even in the darkness behind his eyelids, he could feel the magic they had cast on him, the insidious pull growing stronger with every moment.

Tom stood, his hand lingering on Harry’s cheek for a moment before he turned to Marvolo. "We should let him rest for now. The spells need time to settle."

Marvolo nodded, though his gaze lingered on Harry, filled with a twisted affection that made Harry’s skin crawl. "Yes. But not too long. We have so much more to teach him."

Tom and Marvolo stood over Harry, their towering forms a dark contrast to the fragile figure curled up beneath them. Harry didn’t move, his defiance having wilted beneath their earlier onslaught.

Tom crouched down once more, his sharp features twisted with satisfaction. “Look at me, Harry,” he said softly, his voice almost hypnotic. When Harry refused to lift his gaze, Tom’s hand gripped his chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Rest,” Tom whispered. The word cut through Harry’s thoughts like a blade. His muscles loosened involuntarily, and a wave of exhaustion washed over him. His eyelids drooped despite his best efforts, his body betraying him.

“You see?” Tom said, glancing over his shoulder at Marvolo. “He responds so beautifully already.”

Marvolo chuckled, stepping closer. “He’ll respond even better once I’ve reinforced the commands.”

Tom released Harry’s chin and straightened, his expression satisfied. Marvolo knelt beside Harry, his older hands steady as he brushed his fingers lightly against Harry’s temple. Harry tried to flinch away, but his body remained limp under the weight of Tom’s trigger.

“Sleep,” Marvolo murmured, his voice low and commanding. Harry’s head lolled forward slightly, his breath slowing as if his body had accepted the command without question.

Marvolo smirked, his dark eyes gleaming with triumph. “Deep,” he added, his tone like silk wrapping around Harry’s mind. “Let it sink in, boy. Let every word we speak carve itself into you.”

Harry felt as though he was falling, his mind swimming in a haze of exhaustion and helplessness. But Marvolo wasn’t finished.

“Freeze,” Marvolo commanded. Instantly, Harry’s already lax body stiffened, his limbs locking in place. His mind screamed at him to move, to resist, but his body remained motionless, bound by their magic.

“Good,” Marvolo said approvingly, brushing his fingers through Harry’s unruly hair. “You’re learning, Harry. Soon, you won’t even think to fight us.”

Tom stepped closer, his arms crossed as he observed Harry’s state with quiet intensity. “He looks almost peaceful like this,” he mused, tilting his head. “But it’s the stillness of submission that’s the most beautiful.”

Marvolo rose to his full height, his gaze lingering possessively on Harry. “It’s the stillness of inevitability,” he corrected. “He’ll come to understand that soon enough.”

Tom nodded, his sharp smile returning. “Let’s leave him to rest. The spells will take root while he sleeps.”

Marvolo placed one last hand on Harry’s head, his fingers lingering as though savoring the moment. “When you wake, Harry, you will remember this feeling. The stillness. The quiet. You’ll crave it, even as you resist.”

Harry couldn’t even whimper as their words seeped into his consciousness, deeper and deeper.

They stepped back, Tom casting one last lingering glance at Harry before turning toward the door. Marvolo followed, his expression filled with dark pride.

The door shut with a soft click, leaving Harry trapped in the silence of his own stillness, their magic pressing heavily against him. The haze in his mind churned, but even in the confusion, one horrifying truth remained clear.

They weren’t just breaking him—they were remaking him. And with every spell, every trigger, they were succeeding.

The door creaked open again, and Harry’s heart thudded in his chest as Tom and Marvolo re-entered the dimly lit room. Their presence was suffocating, the air around them heavy with dark intent. Harry's body remained frozen from the earlier commands, his limbs stiff and unyielding no matter how much he willed them to move.

Tom moved first, his steps deliberate as he circled Harry like a predator assessing its prey. He crouched in front of him, his sharp eyes locking onto Harry’s unfocused gaze. “You’ve had enough time to rest,” Tom murmured, his voice as smooth as silk. “But now, it’s time to go deeper.”

Marvolo stood behind Harry, his shadow looming over them both. “Shall we, Tom?” he asked, his tone almost gleeful.

Tom smirked, brushing a strand of hair from Harry’s face. “Deep,” he whispered.

The word sliced through Harry’s mind like a knife, and he felt himself slipping further into a foggy abyss. The edges of his consciousness blurred, his thoughts unraveling as the spell took hold. His breathing slowed, his resistance melting away like ice beneath a flame.

“Deeper,” Marvolo intoned from behind him, his voice low and commanding. Harry’s body felt impossibly heavy, as though he was sinking into the floor itself. He couldn’t fight it, couldn’t even muster the energy to try.

Tom tilted Harry’s chin upward, forcing their eyes to meet. “Do you feel it, Harry?” he asked softly, his tone almost tender. “The weight of surrender? It’s freeing, isn’t it?”

Harry’s lips trembled, but no words came out. His mind was too clouded, too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought.

Marvolo stepped closer, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “This is the foundation,” he said, speaking more to Tom than to Harry. “The deeper we push him, the easier it will be to mold him into what he’s meant to be.”

Tom nodded, his fingers tracing Harry’s jaw with a strange possessiveness. “Deeper still,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Harry’s head lolled slightly as the command sank in. His breathing was shallow, his body utterly still except for the occasional twitch of his fingers.

Marvolo reached out, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You will listen,” he said, his voice dripping with authority. “Every word we speak will become a truth you cannot deny. Every command will become a part of you.”

Tom leaned in, his lips close to Harry’s ear. “Obedience is peace, Harry. And peace is what you want most of all.”

Harry’s mind swirled, their words weaving themselves into the fabric of his thoughts. A small part of him screamed in protest, but it was distant, drowned out by the weight of their magic.

Marvolo grinned, watching the transformation unfold before his eyes. “He’s ready for the next stage,” he said, his voice filled with dark satisfaction.

Tom’s smile mirrored his, a cruel and possessive expression that sent a chill through Harry’s numb body. “Yes,” Tom agreed. “It’s time we teach him who he truly belongs to.”

Marvolo chuckled, his hand tightening on Harry’s shoulder. “And by the time we’re done, there won’t be a single part of him that doesn’t understand it.”

They stepped back, their eyes never leaving Harry’s trembling form. His mind was a battlefield, but with each passing moment, it became clearer who the victors would be.

Tom crouched in front of Harry again, his piercing gaze drilling into the boy's vacant eyes. He gently cupped Harry’s chin, tilting his face upward. “Now, Harry,” Tom murmured, his voice soft but commanding. “It’s time for you to speak. You’ve been listening so well, haven’t you?”

Harry’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. His foggy mind struggled to process the command, the weight of their magic still pressing down on him.

Marvolo stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over them. “He needs guidance,” he said, his tone dripping with dark amusement. “Let’s help him along, shall we?”

Tom nodded, his expression one of cruel patience. “Repeat after me, Harry,” he instructed, his voice calm and soothing, like a parent coaxing a child.

“Obedience is peace,” Tom said slowly, enunciating each word with precision.

Harry’s lips trembled as he fought to form the words. “O… obedience is peace,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Good,” Tom praised, his fingers tightening slightly on Harry’s chin. “Again. Louder this time.”

“Obedience is peace,” Harry repeated, his voice steadier now, though it still wavered with uncertainty.

Marvolo grinned, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Excellent. Now this: I belong to Tom and Marvolo.”

Harry’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of resistance sparking in his dulled eyes. But Tom’s grip on his chin tightened, his gaze turning sharper. “Say it, Harry,” Tom ordered, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

“I… I belong to Tom and Marvolo,” Harry stammered, the words leaving his mouth like a foreign language.

“Again,” Marvolo demanded, his voice a low growl.

“I belong to Tom and Marvolo,” Harry repeated, his voice growing steadier, though his expression remained strained.

Tom leaned closer, his lips brushing Harry’s ear. “It feels right, doesn’t it? To surrender. To let go.”

Harry’s head dipped slightly, as if in agreement, though his eyes were unfocused.

Marvolo placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, his grip firm and possessive. “Now this: I will obey without question.”

“I… will obey without question,” Harry repeated, his voice devoid of emotion.

“Again,” Tom insisted, his tone sharp and unyielding.

“I will obey without question,” Harry said louder this time, his voice ringing hollow in the oppressive silence of the room.

“Good boy,” Tom murmured, his expression one of dark satisfaction. He leaned back, releasing Harry’s chin, but his eyes never left the boy’s trembling form.

Marvolo’s grin widened, his satisfaction palpable. “He’s coming along beautifully,” he said, his voice filled with dark pride. “Soon, Harry won’t even need prompting. The words will come to him as naturally as breathing.”

Tom nodded, his expression contemplative as he studied Harry. “And when they do,” he said softly, “he’ll finally be ours—completely and irrevocably.”

Marvolo chuckled, his hand lingering on Harry’s shoulder. “Oh, he’s already ours,” he said possessively. “We’re simply refining him.”

The two men stepped back, their dark gazes still fixed on Harry. He sat there, his body trembling slightly as their words echoed in his mind, rooting themselves deeper with every repetition. The fog in his mind thickened, and with it, the faint flicker of resistance began to dim.

Tom and Marvolo exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. The next phase of their work was delicate—each step crucial in ensuring Harry's complete submission. Marvolo moved closer, his fingers tracing an invisible line along Harry’s jaw.

“Deep,” Marvolo murmured, his voice laced with power.

Harry’s body stiffened before relaxing entirely, his head lolling forward as if his strings had been cut. His breathing slowed, steady and even, as the word took hold.

Tom crouched down again, brushing a stray strand of hair from Harry’s face. “Good,” he said softly, his tone almost tender. “Very good. Now, Harry, you’ll listen carefully. Everything we say is the truth. Everything we command is for your own good.”

Marvolo leaned in, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Repeat after us, Harry,” he whispered, his voice a low hum of anticipation.

“I trust Marvolo and Tom completely,” Tom began, his words deliberate and slow.

“I… trust Marvolo and Tom completely,” Harry repeated, his voice flat but obedient.

“Their words are my truth,” Marvolo added, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

“Their words are my truth,” Harry echoed without hesitation.

“My mind belongs to them,” Tom continued, his voice deep and commanding.

Harry’s lips parted, and he obediently repeated, “My mind belongs to them.”

“My loyalty is unwavering. My heart is theirs,” Marvolo added, his fingers brushing lightly against Harry’s temple, as though imprinting the words directly into his soul.

“My loyalty is unwavering. My heart is theirs,” Harry murmured, his voice devoid of resistance, his will dissolving under the weight of their commands.

Tom’s hand rested on Harry’s shoulder, his grip firm. “Good, Harry. You’re doing so well. Now, remember this deeply. You feel safe only with us. Only we can protect you. Only we can give you purpose.”

Harry nodded faintly, his eyes unseeing. “Only you can protect me. Only you can give me purpose.”

Marvolo’s smile widened, dark and possessive. “And what of your past, Harry? Your so-called friends? What are they to you now?”

“They mean nothing,” Harry replied without hesitation, the words spilling from his lips like a mantra. “They betrayed me. They left me to suffer.”

“Excellent,” Marvolo hissed, his satisfaction palpable. He turned to Tom, his expression gleaming with pride. “See? He is ours, moldable and obedient. Soon, he’ll see the truth in every fiber of his being.”

Tom’s eyes darkened, the intensity of his emotions matching Marvolo’s. “He already knows it, Marvolo. It’s only a matter of time before he accepts it completely.”

Marvolo leaned closer to Harry, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “Now, Harry, you will not remember this conversation consciously. But deep in your mind, you will always know your place. Always feel the pull to us. Repeat after me: I am theirs, now and forever.”

“I am theirs, now and forever,” Harry echoed, his voice trembling slightly, though still devoid of any will to resist.

Tom and Marvolo exchanged another satisfied glance before stepping back. Marvolo flicked his wand, a shimmering spell settling over Harry like a veil. “He will awaken in a few moments,” he said, his tone almost casual. “We’ve done enough for tonight.”

Tom nodded but lingered a moment longer, his hand brushing against Harry’s cheek. “He’s perfect, Marvolo. Just as he should be.”

Marvolo’s laughter was soft but filled with dark amusement. “Of course. He’s ours. And soon, Harry will understand that there’s no life without us.”

With a final glance, they turned and left, leaving Harry alone in the dimly lit room. His breathing evened out, his body slowly beginning to stir as the spells worked their magic. The stage was set for the next chapter of his re-education.

As Harry’s consciousness gradually returned, he blinked slowly, his surroundings hazy and unfamiliar. The faint glow of the room seemed to pulse in rhythm with the lingering spells, subtle yet ever-present. He rubbed his temples, a strange warmth spreading across his skin, like phantom hands lingering from their earlier presence.

His thoughts were disjointed, fragmented memories of the past blending with the insidious new truths implanted by Tom and Marvolo. The conflict within him was faint but persistent, like an itch he couldn’t quite reach.

“Why... does this feel... right?” Harry whispered to himself, his voice tinged with confusion and a faint undercurrent of longing.

The door creaked open slightly, drawing Harry’s attention. A house-elf entered, bowing deeply. “Master Harry,” it squeaked, “dinner is prepared. Masters Tom and Marvolo wish for you to join them when you are ready.”

Harry nodded absently, the words settling into his mind like an unshakable command. He stood, the pull toward them irresistible, his steps guided by an unseen force as he made his way toward the dining hall.

When he arrived, the atmosphere was heavy with anticipation. The long table was set impeccably, the flickering candles casting shadows that danced like restless spirits. Tom and Marvolo sat at the head of the table, their eyes fixed on Harry with matching expressions of satisfaction and expectation.

“Harry,” Marvolo greeted, his voice smooth and almost affectionate. “Come. Sit with us.”

Without hesitation, Harry obeyed, his body moving automatically to the seat they’d left vacant for him between them.

Tom leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “How are you feeling, Harry?”

“I...” Harry paused, searching for an answer that felt true, though the truth itself seemed elusive. “I feel... strange. But... it’s not bad. Just different.”

Marvolo’s smile widened, his hand resting lightly on Harry’s shoulder. “That’s to be expected, my love. You’re evolving. Becoming something far greater than you ever were before.”

Tom poured a goblet of wine and handed it to Harry. “You’ve started to understand, haven’t you? The life you once knew was full of lies and betrayals. We are your truth now.”

Harry accepted the goblet, his hands trembling slightly. “I... I don’t know. I feel like...”

“You feel drawn to us,” Marvolo interjected, his voice laced with a dangerous kind of softness. “Because we are where you belong. Say it, Harry. You belong with us.”

Harry hesitated, the conflict flickering briefly in his eyes before it was smothered by the weight of their earlier conditioning. “I... belong with you,” he whispered, the words both foreign and strangely comforting.

Tom exchanged a knowing look with Marvolo, his lips curling into a smirk. “Good. That’s exactly where you should be.”

Marvolo raised his goblet in a toast. “To Harry. Our Harry. Together, we’ll achieve greatness.”

Harry lifted his own goblet, his movements mechanical yet deliberate. The warmth of their approval washed over him like a drug, numbing the faint remnants of doubt that still lingered in his mind.

As the goblets clinked and the wine flowed, the room seemed to hum with the power of their shared purpose. Harry’s re-education had only just begun, but the bonds tethering him to Tom and Marvolo grew stronger with every passing moment.

As the evening deepened, the oppressive stillness of the dining hall weighed heavier, broken only by the occasional sound of silverware scraping against plates. Harry remained seated between Tom and Marvolo, his mind clouded and pliable, every word they spoke embedding itself into his psyche.

After the meal, Marvolo leaned back in his chair, swirling the remaining wine in his goblet. His gaze fell on Harry, dark and possessive. “We’ve shared a fine evening, haven’t we, Harry?”

Harry nodded slowly, his response automatic. “Yes, it was... nice.”

Tom chuckled lowly, the sound like a predator toying with its prey. “Nice will not suffice, Harry. Your world must be more than just ‘nice.’ It must be perfect. With us, you’ll know nothing less.”

Marvolo reached out, his fingers brushing Harry’s temple, his touch oddly gentle despite the suffocating weight of his presence. “But perfection takes effort. It takes trust, dedication... and a willingness to obey. You trust us, don’t you, Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry murmured, the word slipping from his lips before he even realized it.

“Good,” Marvolo said, his tone soothing yet laced with a chilling finality. “Then tonight, we’ll take another step in ensuring you’ll never leave our side.”

Tom stood, his movements fluid and deliberate. “Come, Harry. There is more for you to learn tonight.”

Harry rose without question, trailing after them as they led him down a dark corridor. The flickering torchlight illuminated the sinister beauty of the castle, casting long shadows that seemed to follow their every step.

They entered a small chamber, its air thick with magic. Runes glowed faintly on the walls, their intricate patterns pulsing like a heartbeat. In the center of the room stood a low stone pedestal, upon which rested an ornate black crystal. Its surface shimmered ominously, drawing Harry’s gaze.

“Do you know what this is, Harry?” Marvolo asked, his voice low and reverent.

Harry shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from the crystal.

“It’s a vessel,” Tom explained, stepping closer to Harry. “A tool for shaping the mind, strengthening the bonds between us.”

Marvolo placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, his grip firm. “You will place your hands on it. It will show you the truth of who you are becoming.”

Harry hesitated for the briefest moment, but the weight of their gazes bore down on him, erasing any resistance. Slowly, he reached out and touched the crystal.

A surge of cold magic rushed through him, wrapping around his mind like chains. Images flashed before his eyes—distorted memories of his past twisted to fit their narrative. Ron and Hermione became traitors, their faces cruel and mocking. The Weasleys turned their backs on him, their expressions filled with scorn. The warmth he once felt for them was replaced with bitterness, their imagined betrayals cutting deeper with every heartbeat.

In their place stood Tom and Marvolo, their voices soothing and their hands guiding. They were his saviors, his protectors, the only ones who truly understood him.

The magic receded, leaving Harry trembling and breathless. He looked up at them, his emerald eyes clouded with a mixture of confusion and adoration.

“Do you see now, Harry?” Marvolo asked, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “We are your family. Your only family.”

“Yes,” Harry whispered, the word filled with a desperate yearning. “Only you.”

Tom smiled, his expression equal parts triumphant and possessive. “Good. You’re one step closer to being ours completely.”

They guided Harry away from the crystal, its dark power still echoing in his mind. As they led him back to his chambers, Harry felt the faintest flicker of doubt buried deep within him, a small ember struggling against the storm. But as Tom and Marvolo’s voices filled the silence, their words weaving a new reality around him, that ember faded into nothingness.

For now, Harry was theirs. And they intended to ensure he would never be anything else.

That flicker of defiance sparked to life in the quiet stillness of Harry's chamber. It was faint, barely a whisper against the roaring tide of voices that Marvolo and Tom had planted in his mind. But it was there, stubborn and unyielding, like a candle fighting against a gale.

Harry sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the darkened room. His hands trembled faintly, the residual energy of the crystal still coursing through him. Every word they’d spoken echoed in his mind, shaping and twisting his memories, binding him tighter to them.

They’re your family now. Your only family.

The thought should have been comforting, but instead, it left an ache in his chest, a hollow emptiness that the magic couldn’t fill. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms as fragments of old memories bubbled to the surface.

He saw Ron’s freckled face, grinning with that familiar mischievous glint as he handed Harry a chocolate frog on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione’s determined expression as she scolded them both for breaking rules, her arms crossed but her eyes warm. The Burrow, chaotic and full of laughter, a place that had always felt like home.

Traitors, the voices hissed, louder now. They abandoned you. They never cared.

But hadn’t they? His mind grappled with the conflicting images, the warmth of those moments clashing with the cold, distorted versions Marvolo and Tom had planted. The ache grew sharper, more insistent, and with it came a surge of anger.

"That’s not true," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness.

But the words were a crack in the foundation Marvolo and Tom had carefully constructed. The flicker of defiance grew brighter, fed by the raw, unfiltered emotions clawing their way to the surface.

Harry rose to his feet, pacing the room. His breathing quickened as he fought to piece together the fragments of his true memories, his real self. He pressed his hands to his temples, trying to block out the whispers.

They’re lying to you, a small voice inside him said, faint but steady. This isn’t who you are.

The door to his chamber creaked open, and Harry froze. Marvolo stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a stormcloud. Tom followed, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering light of the torches.

“You’re restless,” Marvolo observed, his dark eyes narrowing.

Harry straightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I... I was just thinking.”

“Thinking can be dangerous,” Tom said smoothly, his tone deceptively gentle as he approached. “That’s why we’re here—to guide your thoughts, to protect you from the chaos of your own mind.”

Marvolo stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “What were you thinking about, Harry?”

Harry hesitated, the flicker of defiance trembling but still burning. “I was thinking about my friends. About Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys—”

“You mean the traitors who betrayed you,” Marvolo interrupted, his voice sharp and commanding.

Harry flinched but didn’t back down. “They weren’t traitors,” he said, his voice firmer now. “They—”

“They abandoned you when you needed them most,” Tom cut in, his tone venomous. “They left you to die.”

“No!” Harry’s voice rose, surprising even himself. “That’s not true! They... they cared about me. I know they did!”

Marvolo’s expression darkened, and for a moment, Harry thought he saw a flicker of something in his eyes—rage, or perhaps something deeper. “You’ve been poisoned by their lies for too long, Harry. That’s why you’re confused. That’s why you need us.”

Tom reached out, his fingers brushing Harry’s cheek in a mockery of comfort. “Don’t fight it, Harry. Let us take the pain away.”

But Harry stepped back, his green eyes blazing with a spark of defiance they hadn’t seen in weeks. “No. You can’t take it away because it’s mine. My pain, my memories, my life—it’s not yours to twist!”

The air in the room grew heavy as Marvolo and Tom exchanged a glance. The flicker of anger in Marvolo’s eyes solidified, and Tom’s lips curved into a thin, calculating smile.

“Perhaps,” Marvolo said slowly, his tone low and dangerous, “we’ve been too lenient.”

Tom nodded, his expression turning icy. “Perhaps it’s time to remind Harry of who he truly belongs to.”

Harry’s heart pounded, but he stood his ground, the ember of resistance now a flame. “You can’t break me,” he said, his voice steady despite the fear coursing through him.

Marvolo’s smile was cold and unforgiving. “We’ll see about that, my Harry. We’ll see.”

Marvolo’s smile deepened, sharp and cutting, as he raised a hand. His voice dropped to a low, commanding tone, a tone Harry’s subconscious had been conditioned to obey.

“Harry,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with dark intent, “deep.”

The word struck Harry like a physical blow. His body stiffened, his green eyes widening in panic for the briefest of moments before they began to glaze over. The defiance flickered violently, struggling to hold on, but the weight of the command was overwhelming, pressing down on his mind like an unyielding tide.

“Deep, Harry,” Marvolo repeated, stepping closer, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Let it all go. Let us guide you.”

Harry’s breathing slowed, his fists unclenching as his body relaxed against his will. His knees buckled slightly, and he sank to the floor, his head bowing as his consciousness spiraled into the darkness of the command. The flame of resistance dimmed, flickering faintly but still present, hidden beneath layers of imposed obedience.

Tom crouched beside Harry, his hand gripping Harry’s chin and tilting his face upward. He examined the vacant expression, the empty green eyes that no longer shone with defiance but with a quiet submission. A smirk curved his lips.

“He’s beautiful like this,” Tom murmured, his possessive tone echoing through the room. “So quiet, so... malleable.”

Marvolo’s gaze lingered on Harry, a dark pride radiating from him. “He’s mine, Tom,” he said, his voice possessive and territorial. “Every inch of him belongs to me. To us.”

Tom’s fingers trailed lightly along Harry’s jaw, his smirk widening. “And yet there’s still that stubborn flicker in him. That spark that refuses to die. But don’t worry—” he turned his eyes to Marvolo, a glint of shared intent in his gaze— “we’ll snuff it out together.”

Marvolo nodded, his satisfaction evident. “Indeed. He’s not yet where he needs to be, but we’ll make him perfect.” He knelt beside Harry, his voice soft yet commanding. “Harry, you will listen to us now. You will obey, and you will repeat what we tell you.”

Harry’s lips parted slightly, his voice distant and automatic. “I will listen. I will obey.”

“Good,” Marvolo praised, his tone dripping with dark satisfaction. “Now, listen carefully, my Harry.”

Marvolo began weaving his words, planting new layers of triggers and commands into Harry’s vulnerable mind. Each phrase was precise, calculated, designed to burrow deep and take root.

“When you hear the word sleep, you will fall into a deep, restful state, completely open to our words.”

“When you hear freeze, you will stop everything, unable to move or speak, waiting for our command.”

“When you hear submit, you will surrender all resistance and remember your place—with us, as ours.”

Tom watched intently, his expression alight with fascination and possessive hunger. “He’s perfect, Marvolo. Utterly ours.”

Marvolo placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, his touch both possessive and claiming. “He is, Tom. And with every day, every command, he will become more so. Together, we will shape him into the Harry he was always meant to be.”

Harry’s lips moved, repeating the commands softly, his voice devoid of emotion. “When I hear sleep, I will fall... when I hear freeze, I will stop... when I hear submit, I will surrender...”

“Good boy,” Marvolo murmured, his voice filled with dark pride. “Very good.”

Tom stood, brushing his hands together. “This is just the beginning. Soon, there will be nothing left of the Harry that defied us. Only the Harry who belongs to us.”

Marvolo rose, his gaze lingering on Harry’s bowed form. “Yes. And he will never leave us again.”

Together, they left the room, the door clicking shut behind them. Harry remained on the floor, the flicker of defiance buried deep beneath the surface, but not yet extinguished.

Marvolo’s lips curved into a dark, satisfied smile as he knelt in front of Harry, who remained on his knees, eyes glazed, and expression vacant. Tom hovered behind Marvolo, his gaze fixed on the broken yet faintly flickering presence of defiance buried deep within Harry.

“It’s time we make him truly ours,” Marvolo murmured, his voice low and velvety. He reached out, brushing a hand through Harry’s unruly hair with a mockingly gentle touch. “We need to ensure he knows his place. Harry, listen closely now.”

Harry’s lips trembled faintly before parting, his voice distant and mechanical. “I’m listening.”

Marvolo smirked and placed a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder, his grip both possessive and controlling. “From now on, when you hear the words good boy, you will feel warmth, safety, and an overwhelming need to please. You will crave our approval, Harry. Say it.”

Harry’s voice wavered as he echoed the words. “When I hear good boy, I will feel warmth, safety, and the need to please.”

Tom’s smile widened, his hand sliding to rest on Harry’s other shoulder. “And when you hear pet, you will know your place beneath us. You will feel comfort in submission and pride in serving us. Repeat it, Harry.”

Harry’s lips moved slowly, the faintest glimmer of resistance flickering in his eyes as he repeated, “When I hear pet, I will know my place... feel comfort... pride in submission...”

“Good boy,” Marvolo crooned, watching with satisfaction as Harry’s body visibly relaxed, a faint shudder running through him at the trigger.

“See?” Tom said, his tone gleeful and possessive. “He’s already responding. He’s ours, Marvolo. Completely.”

Marvolo nodded, a dark pride lighting his features. “But there’s still work to be done. Harry,” he commanded sharply, drawing Harry’s attention back, “when you hear kneel, you will drop to your knees immediately, without hesitation. It will feel natural, like where you’re meant to be.”

Harry hesitated for the briefest moment, the flicker of defiance struggling to break through. But Marvolo’s hand tightened on his shoulder, grounding him in place. Slowly, Harry repeated, “When I hear kneel, I will drop to my knees... it will feel natural...”

“Good boy,” Marvolo repeated, watching Harry’s body respond again, this time a faint flush spreading across his cheeks.

Tom knelt down beside Harry, tilting his chin upward to meet his gaze. “When you hear stay, you will remain exactly where you are, unmoving, until one of us tells you otherwise. No resistance. No questions. Say it.”

Harry’s voice was softer now, almost trembling as he obeyed. “When I hear stay, I will remain... unmoving... no resistance...”

Tom ran his thumb along Harry’s jaw, his smirk widening. “That’s it. You’re learning so well, Harry.”

Marvolo straightened, brushing his hands as though dusting them off. “And with every trigger, every command, he becomes more ours. Soon, there will be nothing left of the boy who dared to defy us.”

Tom stood as well, casting one last glance at Harry’s bowed figure. “Yes. But there’s something satisfying about watching the defiance flicker out, bit by bit.”

Marvolo leaned down one last time, his voice a soft purr in Harry’s ear. “Good boy, Harry. Rest now. You’re ours.”

The two left the room, the door clicking shut behind them. Harry remained on the floor, his body loose and pliant, the triggers swirling in his mind. The faint flicker of defiance still burned deep inside, but it was buried, struggling to survive beneath the weight of the commands forced upon him.

As the door clicked shut, Harry’s head dipped forward, his breaths shallow and uneven. The commands they’d planted in his mind weighed heavily, like chains dragging him down. Good boy. The words echoed faintly in his thoughts, their warmth clashing with the remaining flicker of his resistance.

The room was silent, save for the sound of his breathing. Harry clenched his fists against the cold stone floor, the faintest tremble running through his body. His mind warred with itself—obedience and resistance locked in a relentless struggle.

You’re theirs, a dark, invasive voice whispered in his mind, smooth and insidious. You belong to them now. Isn’t it easier this way? No pain, no decisions... just surrender.

“No,” Harry croaked, his voice hoarse and weak but still his own.

The flicker of defiance surged, faint but present, a single ember refusing to be extinguished. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move. His fingers clawed at the floor, dragging his trembling body into a seated position. The effort left him gasping for air, sweat beading on his forehead.

In the distance, he could hear the faint murmur of Marvolo and Tom’s voices, their conversation muffled but still carrying a weight of menace.

"He’s coming along perfectly," Marvolo said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "But we must be vigilant. Even the strongest spells can falter if that stubborn streak remains. We must break it completely."

"And we will," Tom replied, his voice colder, more calculated. "We’ll push him further in the next session. He’ll be nothing but an obedient shadow of himself by the time we’re done."

Harry’s heart clenched at their words, fear coiling in his chest like a living thing. But alongside the fear, anger stirred. It was faint, nearly smothered by the weight of their control, but it was there.

He pressed his palms to the floor, focusing on the cold, rough texture beneath his skin. Focus. Remember who you are. Remember why you fight.

But even as he tried to cling to his identity, the triggers they’d placed in him pulsed faintly, like seeds taking root. A dark warmth spread through him, a cruel comfort whispering that it was easier to give in.

Good boy. Pet. Kneel. The words echoed in his mind, their pull intoxicating. Harry bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, the sharp pain grounding him for a moment.

He wouldn’t let them win. Not yet.

The door creaked open again, and Harry stiffened as Marvolo and Tom stepped back inside. Both of them wore matching expressions of cold amusement, their eyes locking onto him with predatory precision.

“Well, well,” Tom drawled, his voice smooth as silk. “Still sitting upright, are we? Perhaps we need to remind you of your place.”

Marvolo smirked, his wand twirling lazily between his fingers. “Or perhaps it’s time to see how well our little triggers are taking root.”

Harry’s heart pounded, his body frozen as they approached. He could feel the pull of their magic, the weight of their commands. But somewhere deep inside, his defiance burned brighter, like a faint star in an endless night.

Not yet, he thought again, steeling himself for whatever came next.

Tom's lips curled into a sharp smirk as he circled Harry like a predator stalking its prey. "Let's see how obedient our little project has become," he murmured, his wand tracing idle patterns in the air.

Marvolo stepped closer, his piercing gaze locking onto Harry's. He tilted his head, a cruel smile stretching across his face. “Shall we begin? After all, it’s time he remembers what he truly is to us.”

Harry’s chest tightened as Marvolo lifted his wand, his voice low and laced with menace. “Good boy.”

The words hit Harry like a physical blow. His body betrayed him immediately, his back straightening, his hands relaxing, and his breathing evening out. His lips parted slightly, and his wide eyes stared forward blankly.

Tom chuckled darkly. "Beautiful. Let’s reinforce that, shall we?" He leaned down, his voice a silken whisper in Harry's ear. “Say it, Harry. Say you’re a good boy.”

For a moment, silence hung in the air as Harry’s lips trembled. His defiance flared faintly, like a spark on the edge of being snuffed out. But then the magic of the trigger surged, and his voice came, shaky but obedient.

“I… I’m a good boy.”

Marvolo’s grin widened, his satisfaction almost palpable. He waved his wand slowly, the air shimmering faintly with dark energy. “Excellent. Let’s layer something more.”

The wand's tip glowed ominously as Marvolo muttered another incantation. “Pet. Freeze.”

Harry’s body stiffened, his limbs locking into place as if his muscles had turned to stone. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even flinch as Marvolo knelt in front of him, his voice low and taunting. “That’s better. See how easy it is when you obey? No pain, no struggle… just peace.”

Tom stepped forward, his own wand raised. “He’ll learn, Marvolo. They all do. He’s already so close.” His gaze lingered on Harry, the possessive intensity in his eyes mirroring Marvolo’s. “But let’s make him say it. Let’s hear him admit what he’s becoming.”

Marvolo nodded, his wand pressing lightly against Harry’s temple. “Repeat after me, Harry,” he commanded, his voice like a vice tightening around Harry’s will. “I am your pet. I live to obey.”

Harry’s lips pressed together tightly, the flicker of resistance fighting against the oppressive weight of their magic. But the triggers worked against him, whispering insidious reassurances in his mind. Slowly, his mouth opened.

“I… I am your pet,” he said, his voice faint, barely above a whisper. “I live… to obey.”

Tom’s smirk deepened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “Good boy,” he said smoothly, and the words sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.

Marvolo leaned in closer, his voice soft but laced with menace. “Do you see now, Harry? This is what you were meant for. No more pain, no more loss… just belonging.”

The oppressive silence of the room pressed down on Harry as their words sunk deeper into his mind. The embers of defiance flickered faintly, but each repetition of their commands smothered them further.

Tom straightened, his wand lowering. “He’s making progress. Soon, there will be nothing left of the defiance.” He turned to Marvolo, his tone colder now. “But we can’t stop here. We must ensure he’s unshakable.”

Marvolo nodded, his gaze never leaving Harry. “Oh, we will. There’s still so much work to be done.”

They stepped back, their presence looming over Harry like a dark shadow. Harry remained frozen in place, his mind struggling against the growing web of their control, even as their voices echoed endlessly in his head: Good boy. Pet. Obey.

Tom's smirk grew sharper as he exchanged a glance with Marvolo. “Before we leave him to reflect on his purpose,” Tom said, his voice rich with malicious intent, “let’s ensure the past doesn’t interfere with our progress.”

Marvolo’s grin mirrored Tom’s, his wand already poised. “Ah, yes. Memories can be so… distracting. Let’s take those from him—piece by piece.” He stepped closer to Harry, who remained frozen under the weight of the triggers.

Harry’s eyes widened slightly, panic breaking through his blank expression as he realized what they intended to do. The flicker of defiance stirred in his chest, but his body refused to move, still locked by the spells.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Marvolo said mockingly. “We’ll be gentle. You won’t even miss them. In fact, you’ll feel lighter—freer.”

Tom raised his wand, his voice low and controlled. “Let’s start with the ones that hurt him most. His friends. His… family.”

Marvolo nodded, his tone turning almost conversational. “It’s for your own good, Harry. They caused you nothing but pain. Why cling to such burdens when we can give you purpose instead?”

A faint whimper escaped Harry’s lips as Tom murmured an incantation, his wand tracing a glowing line through the air. A faint, silvery mist began to rise from Harry’s head, swirling like smoke.

“Start with the red-haired one,” Tom said coldly, his gaze narrowing. “He was a traitor in every sense.”

Marvolo focused his wand, and Harry’s breathing hitched as the memories began to peel away. Flashes of Ron’s laughter, his loyalty, their shared battles—all of it began to fade like a painting washed in water.

“No!” Harry’s voice cracked, his panic breaking through momentarily.

“Freeze,” Marvolo hissed, and Harry’s body stiffened again, his protests silenced.

“Better,” Tom said with a satisfied nod. “Now let’s deal with the Mudblood. She was far too clever for her own good.”

Marvolo smirked, his wand weaving through the air as more silvery mist emerged, carrying fragments of Hermione’s voice, her fierce determination, and her unwavering friendship.

“You’ll thank us for this one day,” Marvolo said softly, almost tenderly. “They betrayed you, abandoned you. But we never will.”

Tom stepped closer, his wand pulsing with a dark energy. “Now for the last and most painful—your parents. Let’s take that grief away, Harry. Let’s free you from it.”

Marvolo hesitated for a fraction of a second, his expression briefly softening as he glanced at Tom. “This one will leave him… hollow for a time. Are you sure?”

Tom’s eyes glinted with cold determination. “He doesn’t need memories of the dead. He needs us.”

With a final incantation, they began unraveling the memories of Lily and James Potter. Harry’s heart raced, a silent scream building within him as the images of his parents—his mother’s loving smile, his father’s protective stance—blurred and faded.

Marvolo leaned closer, his voice a near-whisper. “You belong to us now, Harry. There’s no one else. Only us.”

The process left Harry trembling, tears streaking his cheeks as the weight of what had been taken settled heavily on him. His mind felt fractured, unfamiliar, and eerily quiet without the memories that had once defined him.

Tom straightened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he regarded their work. “Perfect. He’s ours now—completely and utterly.”

Marvolo smiled darkly, placing a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “And we’ll make him stronger than ever before. Together.”

They left Harry in the oppressive silence of the room, his mind an empty battlefield, stripped of his past and left to grapple with the growing void inside.

The door closed with a sharp click, leaving Harry alone in the dimly lit room. His breathing was shallow, his heart pounding in a desperate rhythm as he tried to grasp the fragments of what had been ripped away. The hollow sensation in his chest deepened, a cold emptiness replacing the warmth of his memories.

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. Somewhere deep inside, beneath the layers of spells, triggers, and enchantments, a faint ember of defiance still flickered. But it was buried so deeply now that it felt almost unreachable.

The silence stretched, suffocating and oppressive. Harry’s mind struggled to form coherent thoughts, but every time he reached for a memory—a face, a voice, a moment—he found only a void. It was as if someone had stolen the core of who he was, leaving behind a fractured shell.

“Focus,” he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. “Remember… something… anything.”

But even the sound of his own voice felt foreign.

Meanwhile, outside the room, Marvolo and Tom stood in the corridor, their voices low but filled with anticipation.

“He’s coming along perfectly,” Marvolo said, his tone laced with satisfaction. “Every piece of him that mattered has been stripped away. Soon, there will be nothing left but the Harry we shape.”

Tom nodded, his expression thoughtful but no less predatory. “He’s strong-willed, though. Even under the triggers, I can sense the fight in him. We’ll need to reinforce the conditioning.”

Marvolo smirked. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. The more we chip away at him, the less fight he’ll have. It’s only a matter of time before he forgets who he even was.”

Tom’s gaze turned sharp, a possessive edge in his voice. “He’s mine as much as yours. I’ll ensure no part of him remembers anything but us.”

Marvolo’s expression softened, though the dark glint in his eyes remained. “Of course, my dear. Together, we’ll make him ours—mind, body, and soul.”

Inside the room, Harry sank to his knees, the weight of their magic pressing down on him. His thoughts grew heavier, his breathing slower as the triggers began to stir within him again. Words—unbidden and foreign—rose to his lips.

“Good boy,” he muttered, the phrase slipping out like a reflex. A shiver of disgust and fear rippled through him, though he didn’t fully understand why.

The ember of defiance flickered again, faint but persistent. Harry clenched his jaw, forcing the words back.

But outside, Marvolo paused, tilting his head as if sensing the struggle. “Ah, he’s resisting,” he said with a dark chuckle. “Good. It makes breaking him all the sweeter.”

Tom’s lips curved into a sinister smile. “Then let’s remind him who he belongs to.”

Without hesitation, they stepped back into the room, their presence suffocating and overwhelming. Harry’s body stiffened immediately under their gaze, the triggers seizing control once more.

Marvolo crouched beside him, his voice soft and coaxing. “Harry, Harry, Harry. Why do you fight us? Don’t you see? Resistance only causes you pain.”

Tom leaned in from the other side, his tone dripping with mock concern. “You’re better off with us. We’ll take care of you, guide you, protect you. But you must obey.”

Their wands moved in unison, weaving spells that felt like chains wrapping tighter and tighter around Harry’s mind. More triggers, more commands, more of their dark will embedding itself into him.

“Say it, Harry,” Marvolo urged, his voice a seductive purr. “Say you’re ours. Say you belong to us.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the room. Then, with trembling lips, Harry whispered, “I… belong to you.”

Tom’s eyes gleamed with triumph, and Marvolo’s smile widened, predatory and cruel.

“Good boy,” Marvolo murmured, stroking Harry’s hair as though he were a pet.

Tom added, his voice low and possessive, “Perfect. Soon, there will be nothing left of the old Harry. Only ours.”

As they continued their work, the ember of defiance within Harry flickered dangerously, nearly extinguished but still stubbornly alive. And in that flicker lay the faintest hope—fragile and nearly forgotten—that one day, he might find a way back to himself.

Tom leaned in from the other side, his tone dripping with mock concern. “You’re better off with us. We’ll take care of you, guide you, protect you. But you must obey.”

Their wands moved in unison, weaving spells that felt like chains wrapping tighter and tighter around Harry’s mind. More triggers, more commands, more of their dark will embedding itself into him.

“Say it, Harry,” Marvolo urged, his voice a seductive purr. “Say you’re ours. Say you belong to us.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the room. Then, with trembling lips, Harry whispered, “I… belong to you.”

Tom’s eyes gleamed with triumph, and Marvolo’s smile widened, predatory and cruel.

“Good boy,” Marvolo murmured, stroking Harry’s hair as though he were a pet.

Tom added, his voice low and possessive, “Perfect. Soon, there will be nothing left of the old Harry. Only ours.”

As they continued their work, the ember of defiance within Harry flickered dangerously, nearly extinguished but still stubbornly alive. And in that flicker lay the faintest hope—fragile and nearly forgotten—that one day, he might find a way back to himself.

The room was silent save for the faint crackle of the fire in the corner, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. Harry sat motionless, his gaze unfocused as Marvolo and Tom loomed over him. Their work was meticulous, cruel, and calculated, as they layered spell upon spell, twisting his mind further into submission.

Marvolo's voice was soothing, almost tender, as he whispered new triggers into Harry’s ear. “Sleep, my boy. Sink deep into the quiet. Forget the pain, forget the fight. Just obey.”

Tom stood beside him, his wand tracing intricate patterns in the air, his eyes glinting with a possessive intensity. “And when you wake, you will know your purpose. You will know that you are ours, and ours alone.”

Harry’s head tilted slightly, his breathing slowing as the spell wove through his consciousness. His lips moved soundlessly, as if repeating words he couldn’t quite hear.

Marvolo glanced at Tom, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “He’s yielding beautifully. It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? To watch him fall piece by piece, becoming everything we desire.”

Tom’s expression was sharp, his voice tinged with a dark thrill. “But not entirely, not yet. There’s still a spark in him. I can feel it.”

Marvolo’s smirk deepened. “Good. It makes the breaking all the more satisfying. That spark will make him so much more beautiful when it’s extinguished.”

Tom stepped closer to Harry, crouching so their eyes were level. His voice was soft but commanding, each word dripping with power. “Harry, look at me.”

Slowly, Harry’s gaze lifted, his green eyes hazy and distant, yet flickering with something faint and desperate.

“You will say it,” Tom said, his tone firm but coaxing. “You will say who you belong to.”

For a moment, there was silence, the tension in the room palpable. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, Harry spoke.

“I… belong… to you.”

Marvolo’s hand rested on Harry’s shoulder, his grip firm but almost affectionate. “Good boy,” he murmured, the phrase carrying a sinister weight.

Tom’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “That’s it. Soon, you won’t even remember resisting. Soon, it will feel natural. Inevitable.”

Marvolo straightened, his gaze never leaving Harry. “But there’s more work to do. The memories must be erased entirely. His past, his friends, his defiance—they’re all obstacles.”

Tom nodded, his wand already moving in smooth, deliberate arcs. “We’ll take them one by one. A clean slate for our Harry.”

Together, they began unraveling the threads of Harry’s memories, pulling at the fabric of his identity with merciless precision.

They started small—minor details, fleeting moments. The feel of the wind on a broomstick, the sound of Hermione’s laughter, the warmth of Ron’s loyalty. Each memory faded like smoke, leaving only emptiness behind.

Harry’s body trembled, his fists clenching as if his mind instinctively fought against the intrusion. But the spells were too strong, the triggers too deeply embedded.

Marvolo leaned closer, his voice a low, hypnotic murmur. “Let them go, Harry. They’re nothing to you now. You don’t need them. You only need us.”

Tom added, his voice darker but no less compelling, “We are your family now. Your purpose. Your life.”

The green in Harry’s eyes seemed to dim as more memories were stripped away, replaced with the echoes of their voices, their commands, their will.

Yet deep within him, buried beneath the layers of magic and manipulation, that tiny ember of defiance still smoldered. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it refused to die.

And as Marvolo and Tom worked tirelessly to shape him into their perfect creation, they remained unaware of the fragile, stubborn flicker that might one day ignite into something more.

Marvolo’s wand traced slow circles in the air as he murmured another incantation, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as Harry’s body shivered in response. Each spell, each charm, was carefully designed to overwrite everything that made Harry who he was.

Tom stood beside him, arms crossed, his gaze locked on Harry’s slack features. “How much longer until he’s… perfect?” Tom’s voice was calm, but a spark of impatience burned beneath it.

Marvolo smirked. “Perfection takes time, my boy. We’ve stripped away much, but there’s still resistance. Subtle, but it’s there.” He tilted his head, studying Harry like an artist appraising a canvas. “The ember is stubborn. But even the strongest flame can be snuffed out.”

Tom moved closer, crouching in front of Harry. His pale fingers gripped Harry’s chin, tilting his head so their eyes met. “And yet, it’s intriguing, isn’t it?” Tom’s voice was soft, almost contemplative. “That flicker of defiance… it’s maddening, but it’s what makes him so fascinating.”

Marvolo chuckled, his tone rich with amusement. “Ah, you feel it too, don’t you? That need to see him truly break, to see him surrender not out of spellwork, but because he chooses to. It’s intoxicating.”

Tom’s fingers tightened slightly on Harry’s chin. “He will. Eventually, he will. But I want him to know it’s us—only us—who define his existence.”

Marvolo nodded approvingly. “Precisely. But for now…” He flicked his wand, the words of a trigger spell slipping past his lips like a lover’s whisper. “Harry, deep.”

Harry’s body slumped instantly, his eyes fluttering closed as the magic took hold.

“Good,” Marvolo murmured, stepping closer. “Now, let’s test the newest commands.”

Tom leaned in, his voice low and commanding. “Harry, who are you loyal to?”

Harry’s lips parted, his voice soft and devoid of emotion. “You… only you.”

Marvolo’s smirk widened. “Good boy. And who do you belong to?”

“Marvolo… and Tom,” Harry whispered, the words dripping with submission.

Tom straightened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “It’s progress, but not enough. He still remembers too much. He clings to it.”

Marvolo nodded, his expression darkening. “Then we’ll take more. His name, his past… everything. Until all that’s left is our Harry.”

With a flick of Marvolo’s wand, memories of Harry’s childhood began to unravel—his aunt and uncle’s harsh words, the cupboard under the stairs, even the faint memory of a birthday cake drawn in the dirt.

Tom followed suit, focusing on erasing Harry’s ties to Hogwarts. The first meeting with Hagrid, the Sorting Hat’s decision, the moments of triumph with his friends—they all dissolved, replaced by the soothing emptiness of their spellwork.

Harry twitched, a low, pained sound escaping his lips.

Marvolo frowned slightly, his wand pausing mid-air. “He’s resisting.”

Tom’s jaw tightened, his voice sharper now. “Not for long.”

He stepped forward, his wand aimed directly at Harry’s forehead. “Harry, you are ours. You have no friends, no past, no purpose beyond us. Say it.”

Harry’s head jerked, his lips trembling as though he were fighting to form the words.

Marvolo’s voice was a dark caress. “Say it, Harry. Submit. It’s the only truth you need.”

For a moment, Harry’s green eyes opened, a flicker of something wild and desperate flashing within them. But then, as if crushed under the weight of their magic, he exhaled shakily and whispered, “I… have no past… no purpose… beyond you.”

Tom’s expression softened with satisfaction, though his gaze remained sharp. “Good boy,” he murmured.

Marvolo chuckled softly, placing a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “See? It’s only a matter of time. Soon, there will be no resistance, no defiance. Only devotion.”

Tom nodded slowly, his lips curving into a dangerous smile. “Soon.”

Together, they left Harry slumped in the chair, his mind a fragmented shell of what it once was. But even as the door closed behind them, the faintest glimmer of something unbroken lingered in Harry’s depths—a quiet, fragile defiance that refused to be extinguished.

Marvolo’s gaze darkened as he observed the flicker of defiance that still dared to linger in Harry’s eyes. His patience, though vast, had its limits. Turning to Tom, he said with a tone of cold finality, “It’s time we strip away the last of him. Everything and everyone he’s ever known. He’ll be ours—completely.”

Tom’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Do it, then. Let’s see him free of every chain but ours.”

Marvolo stepped closer to Harry, his wand raised with deliberate precision. The words he spoke were ancient, dark, and laced with power. A faint, eerie glow emanated from the wand’s tip as he began.

“Harry,” Marvolo’s voice was both commanding and oddly soothing, “deep.”

Harry’s head drooped, his body slackening as he fell under the spell once more. His breaths were slow and even, his mind open and vulnerable to the magic.

Marvolo began tracing intricate patterns in the air with his wand, each motion deliberate, each word dripping with venom. “Forget the Dursleys,” he murmured. “Forget the cupboard under the stairs. Forget the nights of hunger and the mornings of pain. Forget the name ‘Petunia’ and the face of Vernon. Forget them all.”

Harry’s lips parted slightly, a faint sound escaping him as the memories began to unravel. The faint echo of a woman’s scream—the fleeting image of a green flash—faded into nothingness.

“Good,” Marvolo whispered, his tone softening with triumph. “Now… forget Hogwarts. Forget the Gryffindor common room, the warmth of the fire, the laughter of friends. Forget Hagrid and his clumsy affection. Forget Quidditch, your broom, and every ounce of joy you ever felt there.”

Tom stepped forward, his own wand drawn as he joined Marvolo. “And forget those filthy friends of yours. Forget Ron and Hermione—their loyalty, their laughter, their betrayal. Forget their names, their faces, their voices. They mean nothing. They are nothing.”

Marvolo’s voice grew more intense as he continued. “Forget the boy who lived. Forget the scar. Forget the prophecy. Forget everything that ever made you think you were destined for something more.”

The air grew heavy with magic, crackling with the weight of their combined power. Harry’s body trembled under the force of their spellwork, his mind breaking apart piece by piece.

Tom’s voice was soft but sharp as a blade. “Now, remember this, Harry. You are ours. There is no one else. No past. No friends. No enemies. No family. Only us. Say it.”

Harry’s head tilted slightly, his lips trembling. The fight within him had dwindled to a faint ember, barely noticeable. “No… one else,” he whispered. “Only… you.”

Marvolo’s lips curled into a pleased smile. “Good boy. You belong to us now.”

Tom crouched in front of Harry, brushing a strand of hair away from his pale face. “Look at me, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes fluttered open, dull and unfocused, his green irises clouded with submission.

“Who are you loyal to?” Tom asked softly, his voice laced with both cruelty and warmth.

“You… and Marvolo,” Harry replied in a monotone voice.

Marvolo chuckled darkly, stepping back to admire their work. “Perfect. Now, there is no one else. No ties. No memories. Just our Harry.”

Tom straightened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “He’s ours now. Completely.”

Together, they left the room, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Harry remained slumped in the chair, his mind an empty canvas, ready for whatever they wished to paint upon it. There was nothing left of the boy he once was—only the beginnings of the creation Marvolo and Tom desired.

Marvolo paused near the doorway, an idea blooming in his mind. Turning back, he fixed his cold, possessive gaze on Harry. “Not yet,” he murmured to Tom. “There’s one last thing left. A name ties everything together. Let’s unbind him completely.”

Tom tilted his head, intrigued. “You’re right. Strip him of even that.”

Marvolo returned to Harry, whose blank expression betrayed the fragments of resistance that still tried to cling to life. Marvolo leaned closer, his voice low and resonant, wrapping around Harry like a vice.

“Harry,” he said, drawing out the name with a mocking lilt. “That name no longer belongs to you. You don’t need it. Forget it.”

Harry’s lips twitched, a faint tremor rippling through his body.

“Forget it,” Marvolo repeated, his tone sharp and commanding now. “Forget the name Harry Potter. Forget the sound of it, the weight of it. Forget the boy it once represented. You are no one.”

Tom joined him, his wand raised. Together, their magic twisted and coiled around Harry, erasing the very identity that had defined him.

Marvolo straightened, his expression coldly satisfied. “Now… let’s see what’s left.”

He crouched in front of Harry, his dark eyes gleaming. “Who are you?” he asked softly, his voice almost gentle.

Harry blinked slowly, his lips parting as if searching for an answer. But no words came.

“Answer me,” Marvolo demanded, his tone darkening.

“I… I don’t know,” Harry finally whispered, his voice trembling.

Marvolo smiled, pleased. “Good. You don’t need to know. You don’t need a name. You don’t need a past. All you need is us.”

Tom knelt beside Marvolo, his voice low and smooth. “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” Harry murmured, his voice hollow. “Both of you.”

Marvolo’s smile widened as he traced his wand lightly over Harry’s temple, cementing the magic. “That’s right. And what will you do?”

“Obey,” Harry replied automatically.

Tom’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk. “Perfect. He’s almost ready.”

Marvolo stood, his gaze lingering on Harry. “Not almost. He is ready. But we’ll ensure every trace of the past is eradicated. It’s only a matter of time.”

Together, they turned, their work far from finished but their victory nearly complete. Harry sat in silence, his thoughts blank, his identity reduced to nothing but a vessel waiting to be filled.

Marvolo and Tom exchanged a glance, both recognizing the importance of shaping what was left of Harry's mind. They turned back to him, their expressions filled with a dark, almost possessive intensity. Marvolo's voice was low and steady as he began.

“Let’s test this,” he murmured, his wand tracing idle patterns in the air as he spoke. “Who do you trust?”

Harry blinked, his lips parting. “You,” he whispered, the word feeling foreign but unshakable, as if etched into his very being.

“And who will you listen to?” Marvolo pressed, his tone laced with command.

“You and… him,” Harry replied, glancing fleetingly at Tom before his gaze dropped back to the floor.

Tom’s smirk grew as he knelt down, his wand pointed at Harry’s chest. “Good, but not enough. We need more than obedience. We need loyalty, devotion… affection.”

He looked at Marvolo, who nodded in agreement. Together, they began weaving a web of enchantments, their wands moving in perfect synchrony.

“Loyalty,” Marvolo intoned, his voice carrying a chilling resonance. “You will never betray us. Your heart, your mind, your soul belong to us and only us. Say it.”

Harry’s lips moved almost involuntarily. “I will never betray you. My heart, my mind, my soul belong to you.”

Tom leaned in closer, his voice smooth and coaxing. “Affection. You will feel warmth, comfort, even love in our presence. The thought of us will bring you peace. Say it.”

“I will feel… warmth, comfort, love… in your presence,” Harry repeated, his voice growing steadier with each word.

Marvolo’s wand traced a faint symbol in the air before it disappeared into Harry’s skin. “And you will crave our approval. Pleasing us will become your greatest desire. Say it.”

“I will crave your approval. Pleasing you will be my greatest desire.”

Tom’s hand brushed against Harry’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “And if you disobey?”

Harry hesitated, but the magic compelled him to answer. “If I disobey, I will… feel pain. I will never disobey.”

Marvolo smiled darkly, his satisfaction evident. “Good. Now, one last thing.” He leaned closer, his voice soft yet commanding. “What do you feel when you look at us?”

Harry’s green eyes, once vibrant with defiance, now shimmered with a dull, conditioned light. “Gratitude… devotion… belonging.”

Tom exchanged a glance with Marvolo, both of them reveling in the success of their re-education.

“Excellent,” Tom murmured, standing and brushing off his robes. “He’s ours now, in every way that matters.”

Marvolo straightened, his gaze lingering on Harry like a predator surveying its prize. “Indeed. But we’ll continue to refine him. There’s no limit to how perfect we can make him.”

With that, they turned to leave, the room filled with a chilling silence. Harry remained where he was, his thoughts no longer his own, every fragment of his identity rewritten to serve them.

As the heavy door creaked shut behind them, Marvolo and Tom lingered in the dimly lit hallway, their faces shadowed but alight with grim satisfaction. Tom broke the silence first, his voice hushed yet fervent.

“Do you feel it, Marvolo? The power of having him like this—mind stripped bare, malleable, ours to shape. It’s intoxicating.”

Marvolo’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “Oh, I feel it, my boy. It’s everything I dreamed of and more. To see him—our Harry—broken down and rebuilt, piece by piece, into what he was always meant to be… perfection.”

Tom’s eyes darkened, his fingers twitching as if holding back from rushing back into the room. “But he’s not perfect yet. There’s more work to do. I want him to forget more—every moment of rebellion, every memory of those filthy friends, even the name Harry Potter. He’ll be ours entirely, free of their taint.”

Marvolo nodded, his gaze distant as though envisioning the final product of their dark creation. “You’re right. He still remembers too much, even if it’s fading. We’ll strip him of everything, piece by piece, until all that remains is loyalty and devotion to us.”

Tom smirked, his voice low and eager. “When we go back, we’ll ask him more. We’ll make him question everything he thought he knew. And those triggers we planted? They’ll root deeper every time we use them.”

Marvolo turned to Tom, a glint of pride in his eyes. “You’re learning quickly, Tom. I did much the same to him in my timeline, but with you by my side, he’ll be even more… exquisite.”

Tom chuckled darkly. “And the next stage? What’s your plan?”

Marvolo’s expression grew almost tender, a twisted sort of affection gleaming in his gaze. “The next stage is to make him see us as his salvation. We’ll push him, let him struggle, and then… we’ll be the ones to pull him back. He’ll thank us for it, crave our guidance, our approval, more than anything else.”

Tom’s smile widened, matching the dark fervor in Marvolo’s tone. “I want to be the one to break him next time. I want to see it in his eyes—that flicker of surrender when he realizes there’s nothing left but us.”

Marvolo placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder, his grip firm. “And you shall. Together, we’ll perfect him. Let him rest for now. The more he sleeps, the more the spells and triggers will take hold. When we return, he won’t even remember what he’s forgotten.”

They turned, their footsteps echoing down the corridor as they left Harry alone in the silent chamber. Inside, Harry sat motionless, his mind a haze of confusion and whispers, the remnants of his identity dissolving under the weight of their dark magic.

In the shadows of his consciousness, faint memories stirred—names, faces, fleeting moments of defiance. But every time they surfaced, the triggers pushed them back down, drowning them in an ocean of compelled obedience.

And so, Harry waited, unaware of who he was or who he had been, his heart pounding with the growing, inexplicable longing to please the two figures who had become the center of his crumbling world.

Marvolo and Tom returned to the chamber hours later, the room now cloaked in heavy silence. Harry sat exactly where they had left him, his posture rigid, his gaze vacant. Yet, when the door creaked open and the two entered, a flicker of recognition—warped and unnatural—crossed his face.

Marvolo strode forward first, his voice a low, soothing drawl. “Hello, my pet. Did you miss us?”

Harry blinked, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, he nodded slightly, the motion hesitant and mechanical.

Tom stepped beside Marvolo, his dark eyes fixed on Harry like a predator sizing up its prey. “He’s responding well. Let’s see how far along he is.”

Marvolo crouched in front of Harry, cupping his chin in a deceptively gentle grip. “What’s your name, my dear?”

Harry frowned faintly, his brows knitting as though the answer were just out of reach. “I… I don’t…” He faltered, his voice trembling.

Marvolo’s smile widened, pleased. “Good. Very good. Names are meaningless to you now, aren’t they? You don’t need one—not unless we give you one.”

Tom leaned closer, his tone sharp but coaxing. “Do you remember your old friends? Those filthy little traitors who abandoned you?”

Harry’s breathing hitched, confusion clouding his features. “Friends? I don’t… I don’t think I had any…”

Marvolo’s hand tightened briefly on Harry’s chin, then relaxed, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “That’s right. You didn’t. They were never there for you, never cared for you like we do. Isn’t that right, my good boy?”

Harry flinched slightly at the phrase, but then his body seemed to relax involuntarily, his shoulders slumping. “Yes… you care for me.”

Tom smirked, his wand slipping from his sleeve as he began tracing slow, deliberate patterns in the air. “Let’s reinforce that, shall we? Loyalty, obedience, and affection. We’ll make him crave them like air.”

Marvolo stood, stepping back to observe as Tom cast his enchantments.

“Repeat after me,” Tom commanded, his voice firm and unyielding. “You belong to us.”

Harry hesitated for only a moment before his lips moved. “I… belong to you.”

“You trust us completely.”

“I trust you… completely.”

Marvolo’s satisfaction grew with each word, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched Harry’s responses become smoother, more automatic.

Tom’s smile darkened as he added the final phrase. “You love us more than anything.”

Harry hesitated again, his mouth trembling as though some deeply buried part of him resisted. But the triggers were too strong, the spells too deeply rooted. “I love you… more than anything.”

Marvolo clapped his hands together softly, his voice filled with dark triumph. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Tom lowered his wand, his expression thoughtful. “What do you feel when you think of us, Harry?”

Harry’s eyes lifted to meet theirs, wide and glassy. “Safe. Loved. Grateful.”

“Good boy,” Marvolo murmured, and Harry shivered at the praise, a faint blush rising to his cheeks.

Tom exchanged a satisfied glance with Marvolo. “He’s ready for the next phase. We’ll strip away the last remnants of his resistance and ensure his devotion to us is absolute.”

Marvolo’s grin was almost paternal as he placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Together. Together, we’ll make him perfect.”

They turned their attention back to Harry, who remained seated, his mind a tangled web of compulsion and suppressed memories. The remnants of his past self were fading faster now, replaced by the twisted affection and loyalty that Marvolo and Tom had meticulously crafted.

Marvolo stepped closer to Harry, his wand lazily tracing circles in the air as he studied the boy's glassy eyes. “We’ve come so far, haven’t we, my dear?” His voice was almost tender, though laced with a dark undercurrent. “Soon, you won’t even remember that there was a time before us.”

Tom joined him, crouching down so he was at eye level with Harry. “Tell us, Harry,” he murmured, his tone soft yet commanding. “What do you feel about the life you had before?”

Harry blinked slowly, his brow furrowing as he struggled to grasp the fading fragments of his past. “I… I don’t know. It feels… distant. Like it wasn’t even real.”

Marvolo’s lips curved into a pleased smirk. “Good boy,” he praised, his words sinking into Harry like a balm. The younger man shivered at the affirmation, his eyes briefly fluttering closed.

Tom leaned closer, his hand resting on Harry’s knee. “What about us, Harry? What are we to you?”

Harry’s response came quicker this time, his voice trembling but certain. “You’re… everything. You’re my family. My purpose.”

“Excellent,” Marvolo murmured, stepping back to admire their handiwork. He raised his wand, the tip glowing faintly. “Now, my pet, we’re going to help you let go of those last lingering doubts. I want you to think of your name—the name you once had.”

Harry’s expression tightened, his jaw clenching as he fought to summon the memory. “My name…” he whispered, his voice cracking. “It’s… it’s…”

“Gone,” Marvolo interjected firmly, his voice slicing through Harry’s confusion. He waved his wand, and a dark, shimmering energy enveloped Harry’s head. “You don’t need it anymore. You are ours now, and we will give you a name when we see fit.”

Harry gasped as the magic worked its way through his mind, severing the final threads of identity tied to his former life. He sagged forward slightly, his eyes unfocused as he murmured, “I… I am yours.”

Tom’s expression darkened with satisfaction, his hand brushing against Harry’s cheek. “You are. And you’ll do anything for us, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Harry breathed, the word almost reverent.

“Good boy,” Marvolo said again, reinforcing the trigger with a flick of his wand. “Now, repeat after me. You exist to serve us.”

“I exist… to serve you,” Harry echoed, his voice steady despite the haunting emptiness in his eyes.

“You love us more than yourself.”

“I love you more than… myself.”

Tom smiled approvingly, his hand sliding under Harry’s chin to tilt his face upward. “And you will never question us, no matter what we ask of you.”

“I will never… question you,” Harry whispered, his words falling into the air like a vow.

Marvolo straightened, his gaze meeting Tom’s with a gleam of dark triumph. “He’s almost perfect. A blank slate for us to mold.”

Tom nodded, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against Harry’s skin. “We’ll teach him to adore us, to cling to our every word. By the time we’re done, he won’t just obey—he’ll crave it.”

Marvolo’s smile widened, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “And when the world sees him by our side, they’ll know he belongs to us. Entirely.”

The room fell silent except for Harry’s slow, steady breathing. The two men stood, their shadows stretching over him like specters, as they prepared for the next stage of their twisted re-education. Harry remained seated, his mind and heart slowly bending to their will, every fragment of who he once was slipping further into the abyss.

As the room’s dim light cast flickering shadows on the walls, Marvolo and Tom stood in front of Harry, who remained seated, his posture unnaturally straight and his gaze fixed on them. The tension in the room thickened, charged with an obsessive intensity that neither man sought to temper.

Tom reached out first, his fingers brushing against Harry’s face, tracing the curve of his cheek with a touch that was both gentle and possessive. “You’re ours now, Harry,” he whispered, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. “Every part of you—your mind, your body, your soul—belongs to us.”

Harry’s breathing quickened at the contact, though his eyes remained dazed and unfocused. “I am yours,” he murmured, the words automatic, but there was a faint flicker of something deeper—an instinctive response to their control.

Marvolo stepped closer, his hand settling possessively on Harry’s shoulder. “Good boy,” he said, his tone dripping with approval. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Harry’s ear as he continued, “You’ll never want for anything. We’ll take care of you, Harry, but you’ll give us everything in return. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Harry breathed, his voice trembling slightly.

Tom’s smile darkened as he knelt in front of Harry, forcing the boy to meet his intense gaze. “And you’ll love us, won’t you? With everything you are.”

“I’ll love you,” Harry repeated, the words tasting foreign on his tongue but sinking deeply into his mind as another layer of their control wrapped around him.

Marvolo’s hand moved to Harry’s chin, tilting his face up so he could look down at him with a mixture of triumph and affection. “We’ll teach you what love means, Harry,” he murmured, his voice low and hypnotic. “It’s devotion. Obedience. Absolute loyalty. And you’ll give it all to us willingly, won’t you?”

“I will,” Harry whispered, his voice soft but steady.

“Good boy,” they both said in unison, their voices laced with satisfaction and possessiveness.

Marvolo turned to Tom, his dark eyes gleaming with obsessive fervor. “He’s ours, Tom. No one will ever take him from us. Not his friends, not the world, not even himself. He belongs to us completely.”

Tom’s smile widened as he stood, his hand brushing through Harry’s hair. “And he’ll learn to love it. He’ll crave the safety, the certainty we give him. He’ll realize that this is the only place he belongs.”

Harry’s breathing grew steadier as their words worked their way deeper into his psyche, planting seeds of unwavering loyalty and affection. He didn’t speak, but his silence only reinforced their triumph, the blankness in his eyes a canvas for their obsessive desires.

Marvolo leaned closer, his lips brushing against Harry’s temple. “We’ll make you perfect, Harry. The perfect companion. The perfect servant. The perfect… pet.”

Tom chuckled softly, his voice laced with dark amusement. “And you’ll love every moment of it, won’t you?”

Harry nodded slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Satisfied, Marvolo and Tom exchanged a glance, their shared obsession binding them as tightly as the spells they had placed on Harry. Together, they would reshape him, their love a dark, possessive force that would consume them all.

As the room’s dim light cast flickering shadows on the walls, Marvolo and Tom stood in front of Harry, who remained seated, his posture unnaturally straight and his gaze fixed on them. The tension in the room thickened, charged with an obsessive intensity that neither man sought to temper.

Tom reached out first, his fingers brushing against Harry’s face, tracing the curve of his cheek with a touch that was both gentle and possessive. “You’re ours now, Harry,” he whispered, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. “Every part of you—your mind, your body, your soul—belongs to us.”

Harry’s breathing quickened at the contact, though his eyes remained dazed and unfocused. “I am yours,” he murmured, the words automatic, but there was a faint flicker of something deeper—an instinctive response to their control.

Marvolo stepped closer, his hand settling possessively on Harry’s shoulder. “Good boy,” he said, his tone dripping with approval. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Harry’s ear as he continued, “You’ll never want for anything. We’ll take care of you, Harry, but you’ll give us everything in return. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Harry breathed, his voice trembling slightly.

Tom’s smile darkened as he knelt in front of Harry, forcing the boy to meet his intense gaze. “And you’ll love us, won’t you? With everything you are.”

“I’ll love you,” Harry repeated, the words tasting foreign on his tongue but sinking deeply into his mind as another layer of their control wrapped around him.

Marvolo’s hand moved to Harry’s chin, tilting his face up so he could look down at him with a mixture of triumph and affection. “We’ll teach you what love means, Harry,” he murmured, his voice low and hypnotic. “It’s devotion. Obedience. Absolute loyalty. And you’ll give it all to us willingly, won’t you?”

“I will,” Harry whispered, his voice soft but steady.

“Good boy,” they both said in unison, their voices laced with satisfaction and possessiveness.

Marvolo turned to Tom, his dark eyes gleaming with obsessive fervor. “He’s ours, Tom. No one will ever take him from us. Not his friends, not the world, not even himself. He belongs to us completely.”

Tom’s smile widened as he stood, his hand brushing through Harry’s hair. “And he’ll learn to love it. He’ll crave the safety, the certainty we give him. He’ll realize that this is the only place he belongs.”

Harry’s breathing grew steadier as their words worked their way deeper into his psyche, planting seeds of unwavering loyalty and affection. He didn’t speak, but his silence only reinforced their triumph, the blankness in his eyes a canvas for their obsessive desires.

Marvolo leaned closer, his lips brushing against Harry’s temple. “We’ll make you perfect, Harry. The perfect companion. The perfect servant. The perfect… pet.”

Tom chuckled softly, his voice laced with dark amusement. “And you’ll love every moment of it, won’t you?”

Harry nodded slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Satisfied, Marvolo and Tom exchanged a glance, their shared obsession binding them as tightly as the spells they had placed on Harry. Together, they would reshape him, their love a dark, possessive force that would consume them all.

The room grew colder, silence descending as Tom and Marvolo exchanged a look filled with unspoken understanding. Harry sat between them, still and obedient, his mind gradually unraveling under the weight of their spells and manipulations.

Marvolo’s hand slid over Harry’s shoulder, his grip firm but almost tender. “It’s time to strengthen his devotion,” he murmured, his voice carrying an almost feverish excitement. “We’ve laid the foundation, but true loyalty must be forged with care.”

Tom’s lips curled into a calculating smirk. “Indeed. We’ve stripped him of everything he once knew. Now, we fill that void with us—with love.”

He crouched in front of Harry again, his intense gaze locking onto the younger man’s empty eyes. “Harry,” Tom said softly, his voice dripping with a mix of authority and false warmth, “who do you trust more than anyone?”

For a moment, Harry hesitated, the faintest shadow of resistance flickering across his face. Marvolo noticed immediately and placed a hand on Harry’s head, murmuring a quick incantation. Harry’s body relaxed, his resistance melting under the weight of the spell.

“I trust… you,” Harry finally whispered, his voice distant, like a broken echo of his former self.

Tom’s smile deepened as he leaned closer. “Good boy. And who do you love, Harry? Who will you devote yourself to, above all else?”

“You,” Harry said, the word soft yet firm, the spell ensuring it carried no doubt.

Marvolo chuckled lowly, his voice vibrating with triumph. “See, Tom? He’s learning. Our Harry is so eager to please us, so ready to give himself over completely.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against Harry’s temple. “You’re such a good boy, Harry. Always wanting to make us happy, aren’t you?”

Harry nodded, the motion slow and mechanical. “Yes. I want to make you happy.”

Tom’s hand slid under Harry’s chin, lifting his face so their eyes met. “You will, Harry. You’ll live to please us. Everything you do, every thought you have, will be for us. Say it.”

“Everything I do will be for you,” Harry repeated obediently, his voice hollow but steady.

Marvolo stepped back, his satisfaction evident in the dark gleam of his eyes. “He’s almost perfect, Tom. But we must ensure there’s no room for doubt. We’ll place more triggers—more bonds to tie him to us forever.”

Tom nodded, his gaze never leaving Harry. “Indeed. Loyalty isn’t enough. He must feel love, obsession, yearning for us. He must need us.”

Raising his wand, Marvolo began murmuring a series of incantations, each one designed to weave deeper triggers into Harry’s mind. Words like obedience, affection, and devotion echoed softly in the air as the magic settled into Harry’s psyche.

Tom followed suit, his voice a low, hypnotic chant as he reinforced Harry’s dependency on them. “You cannot bear to be apart from us, Harry. You crave our presence, our touch, our approval. Say it.”

“I crave your presence,” Harry murmured, his voice faltering slightly as the weight of their spells pressed deeper into his mind. “I can’t bear to be apart from you.”

“Good boy,” Marvolo purred, his hand brushing through Harry’s hair. “You’re ours now, Harry. Forever.”

Tom straightened, his expression unreadable as he gazed down at Harry. “And soon, he’ll feel it. That emptiness he once felt without us will become unbearable. He’ll seek us out, beg for our approval, our love. He’ll truly be ours.”

Marvolo smirked, his obsession shining through in his dark eyes. “Yes. And the world will see what happens when someone belongs so completely to us. He’ll never even remember a life without us.”

As the two men stepped back to admire their work, Harry remained seated, his expression blank but his body obedient, waiting for their next command.

Their obsession had carved him into something unrecognizable, and they reveled in the darkness of their triumph, knowing there was no escape for him now.

Marvolo stepped closer to Harry, his voice a low murmur that seemed to coil around the edges of the dim room. “You see, Tom, it’s not just about controlling him. It’s about creating a masterpiece of loyalty—a devotion so ingrained, he’ll crave our approval like air.”

Harry knelt silently, his eyes glazed and distant, but beneath the surface, faint cracks of resistance flickered, faint embers of defiance fighting to stay alive.

Tom nodded, his expression sharp with intent. "Show me, then. Let’s engrave his new reality into him."

Marvolo crouched in front of Harry, tilting the boy’s chin upward. His wand glimmered faintly as he traced intricate patterns in the air, each motion radiating with dark energy. “Listen carefully, Harry. From now on, every time you hear me call you ‘good boy,’ your heart will swell with pride. You’ll feel warmth, belonging, and the need to obey.”

He tapped his wand lightly against Harry’s forehead, and the spell settled like an invisible shackle.

Tom stepped forward, his excitement palpable. “And ‘pet,’” he added, voice edged with possessive delight, “will remind you of your place, but also of the care you receive from us. You’ll feel cherished, wanted... loved.”

Harry blinked slowly, his lips parting slightly as the magic began to weave into his psyche.

Marvolo’s gaze darkened further. “And when you hear the word ‘master,’ every thought of rebellion will vanish. You’ll feel nothing but reverence and devotion.”

Tom smiled approvingly. "Excellent. Let’s reinforce it."

Together, they began to test their work, placing more triggers with an obsessive precision:

“Whenever I say ‘forget,’” Marvolo whispered, “you’ll lose a piece of yourself—one memory at a time. All those who hurt you, who abandoned you... they’re nothing to you now.”

Tom leaned in, his breath ghosting over Harry’s ear. “And when I say ‘remember,’ it will only bring thoughts of us, of safety, of love. The past doesn’t matter, Harry. Only we do.”

Harry’s eyes flickered briefly, a soft tremor running through him as he repeated their words, voice hollow but tinged with a lingering resistance that neither Marvolo nor Tom noticed.

Marvolo stepped back, satisfied. “The foundation is set. Soon, he’ll be ours completely.”

Tom smirked, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder possessively. “And when we’re done, he won’t even remember he was ever anything else.”

As Marvolo's wand continued to weave its dark magic, Harry's memories began to unravel at an alarming rate. Fragments of his past, once cherished and vibrant, now dissipated like mist in the morning sun. His sense of identity, already tenuous, began to fray and unravel.

Tom watched with an intensity that bordered on fascination, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and curiosity. "Faster," he urged Marvolo, his voice low and husky. "Take everything. Leave him with nothing but us."

Marvolo's smile grew wider, his eyes flashing with malevolence. "Patience, my dear Tom," he murmured, his wand dancing through the air with precision. "We must be meticulous. Every memory, every emotion, every shred of his former life must be eradicated."

As the spell continued to take hold, Harry's body began to twitch and convulse. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and wild, as he struggled to cling to the fragments of his memories. But it was too late. The magic had already taken hold, and his past was slipping away from him like sand between his fingers.

The room grew darker, the shadows deepening and twisting around Harry like living things. Marvolo's laughter echoed through the space, a cold, mirthless sound that sent shivers down Tom's spine.

And then, in an instant, it was done. Harry's body slumped forward, his head hitting the floor with a dull thud. The room fell silent, the only sound the soft, ragged breathing of the boy who had once been Harry Potter.

Marvolo straightened, his chest heaving with exertion. "It is done," he declared, his voice dripping with triumph. "He is ours now, body and soul."

Tom's eyes gleamed with excitement as he gazed upon the broken, shattered form of Harry Potter. "And now," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "we can begin to rebuild him in our image."

Marvolo's eyes gleamed with excitement as he turned to Tom. "Now, my dear Tom, I'd like to introduce you to one of my favorite triggers. It's called the 'Dolly' trigger, and it has a... profound effect on the subject."

Tom's curiosity was piqued, and he leaned forward, his eyes locked on Marvolo's. "What does it do?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Marvolo's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with amusement. "The Dolly trigger makes the subject... highly suggestible. Obedient, but also... rather vacant. It's as if they're a blank slate, waiting for us to write our desires upon them."

Tom's eyes narrowed, his interest piqued. "And what kind of personality does it produce?"

Marvolo chuckled, his eyes flashing with excitement. "Ah, that's the best part. The Dolly trigger produces a subject that's... giggly, mindless, stupid, and horny. A perfect little plaything, eager to please and obedient to a fault."

Tom's expression was thoughtful, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. "I see," he murmured. "And you think this trigger would be... effective on Harry?"

Marvolo nodded, his smile growing even wider. "Oh, I'm certain of it. With the Dolly trigger, we can mold Harry into the perfect little slave. He'll be ours, body and soul, and he'll do our bidding without question."

Marvolo's eyes seemed to glaze over, lost in thought, as he began to explain. "I've used this trigger on Harry before, in the future. He was... resistant, at first, but eventually, he succumbed to its power."

Tom's curiosity was piqued, and he leaned forward, his eyes locked on Marvolo's. "I want to see it," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want to see Harry under the Dolly trigger."

Marvolo's smile grew wider, and he nodded. "Very well, Tom. Let me show you."

With a flick of his wand, a vision began to take shape in front of them. It was Harry, but not the Harry they knew. This Harry was... different. His eyes were vacant, his smile was goofy, and his movements were stiff and robotic.

Tom's eyes were glued to the vision, his expression a mixture of fascination and disgust. "This is... incredible," he whispered. "He's completely... broken."

Marvolo nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Yes, the Dolly trigger is very effective. And with Harry's... unique circumstances, I think it will be even more potent."

The vision continued to play out, showing Harry's complete and utter devotion to Marvolo. He was a slave, a plaything, and he seemed to revel in his own subjugation.

Tom's eyes never left the vision, his expression growing darker and more intense. "I want to see more," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Marvolo smiled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, Tom. You're going to love what I have planned for Harry."

As the vision continued to play out, Tom's eyes seemed to gleam with an unsettling intensity. He was transfixed by the sight of Harry, broken and subjugated, and Marvolo could sense the darkness growing within him.

"More," Tom growled, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to see more."

Marvolo's smile grew wider, and he nodded. With a flick of his wand, the vision shifted, showing Harry in a variety of situations with Marvolo as he saw Harry sucking Marvolo's dick happily,  asking Marvolo to fuck him and many more with Marvolo happily ever giving Harry everything he asked for. Tom's eyes never left the vision, his expression growing darker and more twisted with each passing moment.

As the vision finally faded away, Tom turned to Marvolo, his eyes blazing with an unnatural hunger. "I want to see that in person," he growled, his voice dripping with malevolence. "I want to see Harry broken and subjugated, just like in the vision."

Marvolo's smile grew even wider, and he nodded. "Oh, Tom. You'll get your wish. And soon, Harry will be nothing more than a mindless, obedient plaything, subject to our every whim."

As Marvolo spoke, the air seemed to grow colder, the shadows deepening and twisting around them. Tom's eyes seemed to gleam with an otherworldly intensity, and Marvolo could sense the darkness growing within him, a darkness that would soon consume them all.