Voldemort rose from the cauldron and knew instantly that the ritual had failed. He had a body but it felt wrong and he was sure it looked wrong also.
“Robe me.” He demanded of Wormtail, disgusted but refusing to show it to a follower. Wormtail helped him despite crying about his hand. Voldemort ignored his cries, certain the failure was the rat’s fault.
Once he was covered, he turned to the pathetic man he called a Death Eater. Was he really needed? He couldn’t even perform a simple ritual properly. Calmly he made a decision.
“Avada Kedavra.”
The shock on the rat’s face was almost worth the effort Voldemort knew he would have to go through to regain his true visage. Now to deal with the boy of prophecy.
Voldemort stalked to his father’s grave where the boy struggled in his restraints. He had observed the child through Quirrel’s mind and had briefly glimpsed him through his own eyes during the child’s first year but it wasn’t the same as seeing him now.
Now he was struck with a feeling of recognition that shouldn’t be occurring. He had no ties to the boy but he seemed familiar. He reached one hand out and touched his face. The boy flinched slightly before glaring at him. He had courage in spades which Voldemort had already known from his first year.
Voldemort’s grip turned harsh as he held Harry’s chin and turned his face from side to side.
The boy’s skin was smooth but filthy, blood running down from a cut in his scalp where he must have hurt himself in the maze, but otherwise unmarked.
He would probably be quite handsome without the blood and dirt. He remembered James Potter and could see him in the messy hair but he remembered that James had lighter brown hair, while Harry’s seemed to be almost black like his own had been.
What Voldemort couldn’t believe were Harry’s eyes. Seeing them up close and in his own body was so different. Before him were eyes so similar to those that had haunted his dreams most of his adult life. He vaguely remembered Halloween and seeing Lily Potter. Her eyes had almost stopped his attack years ago. More than just her eyes if he was honest but it couldn't be her so he tried to shake it off, but failed as he had that night in Godric’s Hollow.
He released the boy’s face and stepped back. Voldemort needed more information. Why had the ritual failed? Why had Lily Potter’s death caused him to die also? This boy would have no answers. He knew his enemy and Dumbledore would never share information with the child. He had proved that when Harry thought it was Snape his first year and not Quirrel or Voldemort.
Blood of the enemy. Was that the problem? He thought he needed Harry’s blood to gain the ability to touch him, but maybe that wasn’t enough. His true enemy was and always had been Dumbledore. Dumbledore who was responsible for her death.
His thoughts kept swirling, but he noticed the boy had stopped fighting in his restraints. He was staring up at him with those bright green eyes. Once again, Voldemort wondered, but he was distracted from his thoughts by Nagini slithering up next to him.
“Can I eat him now that you are back to your body?” she hissed.
Those bright green eyes widened and Voldemort knew he was afraid. He would be even more scared if he could understand the snake wanted to eat him, but there was no way this child could speak his ancestor’s tongue.
“No, Nagini. I might still have use for him, but feel free to hiss at him and scare him while I decide his fate.”
Nagini did as instructed but the boy was no longer showing the fear he had when she showed up. Was it that stupid Gryffindor bravery rearing up again? Voldemort could almost respect that. He was loath to spill more magical blood but it would be stupidity to return him to Dumbledore.
His thoughts felt fragmented and difficult to focus on and he wondered if he had made a mistake in making so many horcruxes. He only needed one to keep himself alive, maybe he should reabsorb one or two to see if that helped. The ring was close by and easy for him to get. As his first, it also held the largest part of his soul so it was the best choice for that reason.
“Nagini, watch the boy. If he tries to escape, feel free to bite him. Without killing him, mind you. I might still want him alive. The pain from your venom will keep him from going anywhere.”
He saw the boy still once more at his hissing and the fear return to his eyes. Nagini began to circle the grave, stopping to snap close to the boy’s face every so often. He wanted to dive into the child’s mind and see what he was thinking but Legilimency was a skill he had forsaken long before that Halloween night. Not that he let his followers know that.
He kept up the illusion well from years of learning to read people’s actions and tells, but the horcrux ritual demands death and magic so if he absorbed the diadem again, he might be able to regain that skill. Retrieving his soul piece from the ring would let him know if his magical expertise returned with his soul shards. For the ring he had only given up the ability to produce a Patronus, something he had struggled to master anyway.
Trusting Nagini, he apparated to the Gaunt shack. His protections recognized him and he was able to easily retrieve his ring. He dispelled the curse he had placed and settled the ring on his finger. To regain his soul, he had to show regret. Luckily there were many things he regretted, including not killing Dumbledore when he had the chance. Magic accepted his regret and he felt his soul start to knit itself back together.
Voldemort wished it could be painless but the fusion of his soul ached, even as it soothed his mind. He dropped to his knees as it finished, strength momentarily leaving him, before rushing back with the spell's completion.
Standing once more he focused on a single memory. Already he could tell how much easier it was to think and focus.
“Expecto Patronum.”
A bright silvery swan appeared. He shouldn’t be surprised that his duckling had become a swan, she had in real life also.
“Tell Lucius his master is returned. I will be coming to stay with a house guest. He better be prepared when we arrive.”
The swan took off to deliver his message and Voldemort apparated back to the cemetery. The boy hadn’t moved an inch and Nagini had decided to simply sit on top of him and stare into his eyes. As Voldemort watched, her tongue flicked over his bloody cheek and the boy flinched slightly. With each reaction, Nagini hissed a little laugh.
“Nagini, we are leaving. Move so I can bring the boy.”
If a snake could look disappointed, Nagini would have but she did as instructed.
“You will be coming with me. If you try anything Nagini will attack you. If you behave, I might let you live longer.”
Voldemort heard Harry scoff and it annoyed him.
“So far I’ve been good to you boy, but maybe a little bit of a Crucio would make you a little more appreciative of that? Do you want to feel the agony of being held under one of my most powerful spells?”
It looked like it would kill him but Harry shook his head no.
“No? Maybe a thank you is in order. Say it. Say “Thank you Lord Voldemort, for not Crucioing me.”
Harry stayed stubbornly silent so Voldemort again reached out and tightly gripped his chin.
“Say it or feel the pain.”
With venom in his eyes, Harry finally uttered a sound but it was not what Voldemort had expected. Hisses emerged from the lips of the green eyed boy. Ones only Voldemort could understand because the boy was speaking Parseltongue. Words in his tongue that froze Voldemort where he stood.
“Thank you Grandfather, for not Crucioing me.”