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Harry Potter isn’t sure when he stopped being a good person. He knows when he betrayed the light side for his own hedonism, but he was pretty sure he had been corrupted way before he sold his soul.
Otherwise, why would he have sold it in the first place?
There was definitely something darker, easily corruptible within Harry because it took very little to convert him. He had tried to be good, he had tried to do what had been expected of him.
But the darkness just felt too good to deny.
Harry discovered how good the dark could feel in his first year at Hogwarts.
He was so naive, so trusting, it was all too easy for the Dark Lord to sink his claws into the Gryffindor golden boy. Magic addiction was rare, usually a result of a curse or potion gone wrong, and Voldemort had spotted the signs in Harry immediately.
It was so simple to invite Harry for some extra tutoring in DADA and while Quirell bumbled his way through teaching the Potter Heir, Voldemort allowed some of his magic, some of his aura, to escape. He could tell immediately when the boy felt the magic change in the air, his eyes dilating and his respirations increasing.
Why should Voldemort have Harry as his enemy? When the boy would make a much better pet.
Unfortunately for both Voldemort and Harry, those plans got sidetracked as Quirell’s body began to fail faster than Voldemort could repair it. He had no choice but to flee Hogwarts and abandon his plans of not only taking the Philosopher’s Stone but also stealing away Potter to the dark side. But those short few months Harry got to spend basking in the Dark Lord’s aura had done more than the man had expected to the boy.
The next time the Dark Lord sees Harry Potter is at the end of his fourth year, having been kidnapped and used in a ritual to bring Voldemort’s body back to its full and proper glory.
Voldemort’s magic had been strong, even as a wraith and then homunculus, but back in his proper body? It was nearly overwhelming how powerful the man was.
As his servant clothed him, Voldemort watched the boy still trapped against his father’s headstone. Harry Potter did not look scared or angry. Harry’s green eyes were filled with a desperate neediness that Voldemort had only seen on a few in the past.
“Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived.” Voldemort hissed out, watching as the boy’s eyes fluttered shut briefly before opening again. Curious, Voldemort released Harry from his place against the headstone causing the boy to fall to his knees in front of Voldemort. The boy made no move to stand up and didn’t try to yell or fight, in fact, he was watching Voldemort with a near-intoxicated stare.
“Everyone expects you to be their leader, their savior, don’t they boy?” Voldemort hissed gently, leaning down some to look Harry in the eye. There was no fear there, only unrelenting want. “But you are no leader. You don’t want that responsibility. You want someone to take your burdens and protect you. You were made to bow to someone. Isn’t that right?”
Harry’s eyes had darkened and he had tried to hold back the whimper that fell from his mouth, but it was no use. “Please…” Harry begged quietly.
Voldemort ran his inhumanly long fingers through Harry’s messy black hair, letting his magic leak from his fingertips into Harry’s scalp, causing Harry to moan wantonly, pressing into the Dark Lord’s cool touch.
“What has the light side ever done for you Harry?” Voldemort practically cooed the question as he yanked Harry’s head back with the grip he had on his hair, forcing the boy to look up at him. Still, there was no fear. “ Legillimens. ”
Oh, the boy was perfect.
Broken.
Abused.
Neglected.
Touch-Starved.
Abandoned.
Voldemort went through Harry’s short life of memories, showing the boy how he had been let down by the light side. It is almost too easy…
“Join us, Harry. Let the Dark be your family. We can care for you in ways the Light had never dared to try to. You belong with us. You are so much better than those who have abused and abandoned you.” Voldemort’s touch was gentle once more as he petted the boy’s head.
Harry melted into the Dark Lord’s touch, he had never stood a chance. High off the feeling of the Dark Lord’s magic and given soft comforting touches with the promise of never having to shoulder the burden of being the Savior anymore, there are very few worlds where Harry would be strong enough to deny the Dark Lord, and this certainly wasn’t one of them. “Please,” Harry begged again. He wasn’t sure what specifically he wanted, but he knew the Dark Lord would know what he needed.
Voldemort's cold, pale hand stroked Harry's cheek, leaving a trail of ice-cold fire in its wake. "You want me to take the pain away, don't you?" he purred, his voice as silky smooth as his appearance was serpentine. Harry shuddered as he nodded, his breathing ragged, consumed by a need so sharp it nearly overwhelmed him.
Voldemort smirked, his red eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, begging to serve him. It was almost too perfect. He could sense the boy's desperation, his need for someone to take away the burdens that weighed him down.
"Stand up, Harry," he commanded gently.
Harry stumbled to his feet, his whole body trembling with anticipation. He stood before Voldemort, his green eyes glazed over with desire and submission. This was what he had been waiting for, what he had always needed. The man before him radiated power and control, everything his life had lacked.
"Swear your allegiance to me, and I will deliver you from this wretched existence," Voldemort purred, his red eyes boring into Harry's green orbs like two flames engulfing a parched soul. "Swear on your magical oath that you will be mine and mine alone, and I will give you the solace you so desperately crave."
Harry did not hesitate. Raising his shaking hand, he held it out to Voldemort. "I, Harry James Potter," he gasped out between ragged breaths, "swear on my Magic and my very soul that I swear allegiance to Lord Voldemort. I vow to serve him faithfully in this life and beyond." The moment the Unbreakable Vow was sealed, Harry felt a crushing weight lift off his shoulders as the Dark Lord's power suffused him like a balm for his fractured soul.
"You've made the right decision, Harry," Voldemort purred, running a finger down Harry's cheek. "The light has used you as a pawn your entire life, but no more. I will show you what it means to be valued, to be cherished."
Harry moaned softly at the contact, leaning into the touch like a desperate addict seeking another hit. He knew in his heart that this was wrong, that he should be fighting against the Dark Lord, but all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of relief and desire.
The Dark Lord delicately lifted Harry’s right arm, placing his white bone wand against the young wizard's pale and unmarked skin. The wound on his left arm from Pettigrew's ritual to resurrect his new master was still seeping blood slowly. As the sibling to his own wand glided over his flesh, Harry couldn't help but feel a pleasant tingling sensation.
“ Morsmordre ,” Voldemort hissed the curse without warning, fully anticipating the expected reaction of pain and anguish as the slave bond took hold of Harry's soul as it had with all those who had pledged their loyalty to him before. However, much to his surprise, Harry shuddered and moaned like a Knockturn Alley whore. It was quite intriguing...
"You are mine now Harry Potter," Voldemort said with a cruel smile. "You belong to me for the rest of your life. Not that you will mind, your body craves my touch as much as your mind yearns for my approval. But you are too young still. You are to return to Hogwarts, be scared, and play the part of the boy savior as you have so well these past years. I will retrieve you this summer and you will never have to fall under those disgusting muggle’s hands ever again. My servant in Hogwarts will watch over you until you return me. Do you understand dear Harry?”
“Yes,” Harry whispered, eyes never leaving the Dark Lord’s face. He was willing to do anything he wanted as long as he touched him just one more time. Let him bask in his magic for just a moment longer.
Voldemort’s grip on his arm tightened painfully. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, My Lord.” Harry moaned out helplessly causing Voldemort to smile and pet the boy again.
“Good pet. Now go. Do me proud and I will reward you as you deserve, and take that other boy’s body back with you. Better give them something to distract themselves over instead of inspecting the body that now belongs to me.”
It took more power than Harry was willing to admit to in order to pull himself away from the Dark Lord’s addictive touch and to follow his orders. But he wanted to be praised again. He would do anything his Lord asked of him for just another moment in his presence. So he followed his orders.
Harry landed back at Hogwarts with Cedric’s rapidly cooling body, screaming and crying that Voldemort was now back. It was hard to pretend to be afraid and to show disgust for his Lord, but he wouldn’t fail. Not so soon.
It was easy to figure out who the Dark Lord’s secret servant was within Hogwarts now that Harry knew to look for him. Barty had spirited him away after his return in hopes for details about their master and to share in the glory of torturing the boy who lived only to learn that they were suddenly on the same side. Harry could see the devotion in Barty’s eyes to the Dark Lord and he swore to himself he would prove himself as equally trustworthy as Barty obviously was.
The days passed by in a blur at Hogwarts. Harry played his role as the grieving, traumatized hero perfectly, all the while anticipating the end of the school year when he could return to his true master's side.
As June drew nearer, Harry found himself more and more restless in Dumbledore's presence, itching to be free of the old man's watchful eyes. Each time he had to attend one of those insufferable DADA lessons with Moody—or rather Bartemius Crouch Jr.—he had to bite his tongue to keep from betraying his loyalties as Barty played his part to perfection espousing Light ideals and seeming derisive toward anything of a dark nature. His homework suffered even more than usual due to his distraction. Harry wondered if this was what a drug addiction and subsequent withdrawal felt like.
Harry could feel the Dark Lord's magic coursing through his veins, calling to him. As the end of term approached, he grew more impatient, snapping at his friends and barely able to focus on his exams. At night, he dreamed of pale, spider-like hands caressing him, red eyes gazing possessively into his own. He woke each morning aroused and ashamed.
During the leaving feast, Dumbledore droned on about inter-house unity and Dittany knows what else. Harry tuned him out, fidgeting in his seat. Finally, it was time to board the Hogwarts Express back to London. Back to the Dursleys...and his true master.
The ride passed in a tense haze of anticipation. Harry stared out the window, fingers twitching around his wand. Ron and Hermione tried to engage him in conversation, but his curt replies soon had them exchanging concerned looks.
"Harry, mate, are you alright?" Ron ventured. "Only you seem a bit...I dunno, twitchy lately."
"For heaven's sake Ronald, Cedric was murdered right in front of him!" Hermione said shrilly. "Of course, he isn't himself!"
Harry just shrugged and went back to watching the rolling hills speed by outside. Harry could hardly contain his excitement as the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross station. He had made it through the year, playing his part flawlessly. Now his reward awaited - the chance to be back at his true master's side.
As Harry stepped off the train, he scanned the crowd, hoping for a glimpse of one of Voldemort's followers who might be there to retrieve him. But all he saw were the usual families reuniting with their children after a long year apart.
"Harry! HARRY!"
He halted his search at the sound of Mrs. Weasley's voice calling his name. She bustled up, enveloping him in a warm, suffocating embrace. Over her shoulder, he saw the Dursleys waiting with pinched, impatient expressions.
"Harry dear, we've made arrangements for you to come straight to the Burrow this summer," Mrs. Weasley said kindly. "Professor Dumbledore thinks it best, given the circumstances...You’ll only be with your relatives for a couple of days and we will be by to pick you up this weekend."
Harry's stomach dropped. No. NO! He had to get back to HIS lord, back to... Frantically he cast about for an excuse, some way to escape. What would have once filled him with joy now made his heart feel heavy with dread. This summer would be unbearable. Harry silently cursed Dumbledore and his meddling ways. But he reassured himself that he would find a way back to his true master's side...somehow, that is if the man didn’t come for him before the Weasleys managed to spirit him away.
With a sigh, Harry resigned himself to the act of being the savior just a little while longer and returning to the Dursleys one last time. He dragged his trunk towards where Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were impatiently waiting.
"Hurry up, boy!" the large man bellowed as soon as he got close enough. "We haven't got all day."
Harry bit back a sharp retort and silently followed his relatives to the car park. He tolerated Vernon's grumbling about "ungrateful freaks" all the way back to Privet Drive, thinking only of the day when he would never have to see these wretched muggles again.
Safely in his room, Harry touched his right forearm where he knew the Dark Mark lay under glamour charms. He sent a silent promise to his true master.
"Soon, my lord. I will be back with you soon."
The familiar ache of separation settled into Harry's chest. He focused on breathing through it, as he had so many times over the last few weeks at Hogwarts. This was the last time, he reminded himself. He just had to endure a little longer.
Harry lay in his bed that night, his broken alarm clock showing it was just after midnight when he heard it.
"Hello Harry," said the man in a chillingly familiar dark voice. "It is time to come with me. Your new life awaits."
Harry suppressed a shiver of delight. "Yes, my Lord," he whispered reverently. As he sat up he spotted the Dark Lord standing silently in the corner of his room. He looked even more handsome than he remembered him. After the ritual, the Dark Lord had some rather strong resemblances to a snake, but now here he stood looking like the older version of Tom Riddle with only a smattering of green-black snake scales dusting parts of his pale skin. He hadn’t even heard the man come in. He stood up quickly to distract from the need to explore what those scales would feel like on his skin.
Harry hadn’t unpacked anything so it was easy for him to grab his trunk from the end of his bed, Hedwig’s cage, and stand in front of Voldemort, valiantly ignoring his urge to kneel before his Lord.
Voldemort motioned for Harry to follow him silently and Harry followed the cloaked man quite willingly to a hidden apparition point just outside the wards of his relative’s house, heart pounding in anticipation. This was it.
They apparated away with a crack, leaving Harry's old life behind like nothing more than smoke to be waved away carelessly. When they reappeared, they were standing outside a large manor house surrounded by high iron gates.
The gates opened before them and they made their way up the long driveway toward the imposing entrance. Harry had never felt more excited and terrified all at once.
His addiction sang in his blood, ready to fully submit to the one who had awoken such desire in him. He was ready to prove his worth and earn the praise he so desperately craved. A new life of power and purpose awaited if only he could withstand the trials to come.