The Inception

Summary: Set at the end of OOTP. Harry gets vengeance in the Department of Mysteries, displacing the Horcrux inside of him in the process. Voldemort starts to destroy the barriers keeping the Wizarding World hidden; can the Ministry maintain control and prevent a Muggle-Wizarding war?

A/N: This is planned to be a fairly short story: ~30k words. Hope you enjoy the ride.

Prologue: Dichotomy

Her cackling voice resonated around my head over and over; my heartbeat raced and pounded in my head as anger coursed through my veins like fire.

I charged through the corridor paying no heed to the objects I leaped over. I was running faster than her, I would catch her.

A glimpse of her unprotected back as she sped round a corner. She would be mine.

A clean shot, she was mine.

I raised my wand; it was steady despite my sprinting. She was in the middle of the atrium laughing, still laughing. The curse readied on my lips, my gut. She was still laughing!

'Avada Kedavra!' I yelled. I wasn't shaking; my aim was true.

She looked to turn round as the blazing light sped towards her, the expression of shock bathed in an eerie green light. The laughter stopped, the light connected.

Pain.

I fell to the floor shaking and screaming. My right hand erupted in pain, the stench of burning flesh invaded my senses as my wand appeared burst into green flames. The heat carved into my hand.

My skull felt as if it was splitting open. Warm, sticky liquid dripped down my forehead...I tasted copper as it dripped into my open mouth.

It felt as if years seemed to pass before I regained control of my senses. My throat hurt; I'd screamed myself hoarse. I was barely aware of my surroundings. Everything was blurry. A figure seemed to step over me. My wand was wrenched from my throbbing hand.

More pain.

Some of my flesh seemed to stick to the wand as it was pulled upwards, examined by the figure. I gazed up, desperate to reach some kind of focus. My hand throbbed.

His face resolved; his eyes were red. He was indifferent to me; gazing at my wand with all of his attention.

I heard a shouted challenge from behind me...Dumbledore. I tried to get up, to help, but my body seemed incapable of moving. I laid on my back covered in blood as Voldemort gently placed my wand back on the ground, flashed me a malicious smile and walked away, keeping his back from Dumbledore's approach. He didn't seem to want a duel...was he afraid?

Dumbledore walked past me, gazing at me in concern with his wand raised in the direction Riddle had left.

My eyes began to loose focus again as Dumbledore crouched down to examine Bellatrix's body, not five metres from where I lay.

We will do great things...

I awoke to pleasant bliss; comfort and warmth enveloped me. The Hospital Wing. The smell and the feel were so familiar to me I knew it before I opened my eyes, which took considerably effort. I instinctively grasped my glasses from the bedside table and examined the room.

My curtains were drawn, I had no visitors. Feeling strangely disappointed I grasped my wand from my bedside table, wincing as my right hand stung painfully. I started to pull myself out of bed.

As soon as I pulled myself up out of the bed I had the inexplicably feeling that something was missing. I looked around trying to identify what was missing...I had my wand... what else? I reached for the curtains, almost desperately trying to search the room for my missing...something.

“No, no, no, Potter! Back to bed at once!” she instructed indignantly.

“How long have I been here?” I asked, almost desperate to get out, as Pomfrey forcibly pushed me back into the bed. I wasn't putting up much of a fight; in truth I could barely stand without wobbling.

“A little over a week. I shall send for the Headmaster; he wished to talk to you as soon as you awoke, although by the look of you it had better be a short conversation.”

“What about the others? Ron? Hermione? Nevill, Luna? Sir-” I demanded, stopping as I realised who I was talking to. Stopping as I realised what had happened to Sirius. I'd lost Sirius.

“Stay still and I shall summon the headmaster. He will be able to answer your questions.”

I relented and let Pomfrey bustle out of the curtains towards her office, presumably to get Dumbledore. My head filled with emotions as the moment of Sirius' fall flashed through my mind repeatedly, mercilessly.

I spun my wand around in my hand, almost as a form of distraction, sad to see there were scorch marks along its shaft. It seemed someone had cleaned off the burned flesh. More memories from the Ministry assaulted my mind like a torrent.

Bellatrix. Anger, righteous fury.

Avada Kedavra. I had killed her. An Unforgivable. At her back as she ran away...I didn't even warn her.

She deserved it.

I was going to be sent to Azkaban... like Sirius. Sirius was dead.

Tears welled behind my eyes as the conflicting emotions assaulted my mind.

“Harry, ”

I looked up into the face of Albus Dumbledore gazing at me with concern. Other emotions flashed onto his face as he surveyed me; disappointment, pity. Despair even?

“How are my friends? I haven't seen them since...the chamber. The veil.”

“Your friends are fine, Harry. Mr Weasley may have a few scars as a memento of his forray into the Department of Mysteries, but he will ultimately make a full recovery. You, on the other hand, are our deepest concern.”

“Sirius..is he...” I began.

“I'm afraid that yes, Harry, Sirius is dead. I believe he died in a manner in which he would have approved: protecting his friends and standing up for what is right.”

“It was my fault,” I insisted, the thoughts came unbidden into my head. If I'd have realised I was being played I never would have lured the Order to the Ministry...

“It was the fault of the person who cast the spell, Harry. Never forget that. He, or she, who takes that which cannot ever be given back holds responsibility.”

Dumbledore's expression seemed to pierce to my very soul as he looked at me. I couldn't read his expression.

He Knows.

“Bellatrix... is she... is she dead?” I could barely ask the question. Please be alive. I couldn't be a murderer.

It was her fault. She deserved it.

“Bellatrix is dead, Harry. I believe you know how it happened.” Repressed anger now shone from Dumbledore's face as he looked at me; I had to look away. I clutched onto my wand in fear, despair.

“I- I- I cursed her, Professor. I was so angry...I..”

“You know what curse you used?”

“I know- I didn't mean to- I was-”

“After I had ensured that Lord Voldemort had left the Ministry, and that you were safe, I was forced to mutilate Bellatrix's body to make it appear that she died of a more...conventional curse,” Dumbledore said this, apparently trying and failing to disguise a sense of loathing, for both myself and himself, “There were no other signs on the body- the Ministry will conclude she died from that curse, to which I have admitted casting. There will be no further enquiries into the untimely demise of an escaped Death Eater.”

Relief poured through my body as the words were spoken, even as I felt utter despair at the look that Dumbledore was giving me.

I couldn't believe that he had ever been as disappointed with someone as he was with me, now.

“I don't know what to say...I'm sorry- I, thank you. I-”

“Do not thank me. We will talk further after you have recuperated. We have much to discuss, and I believe it would be in both of our best interests if we meditated on what we have learned. Tell no one of what we have discussed.”

Without so much as a nod, a wink or a smile, Dumbledore pushed past the curtains and out of the room.

Despair. Sirius dead. I was a murderer. Dumbledore was disgusted with me. It felt like there was a hole in my heart...so much lost.

'She deserved it.' a voice in my head whispered.

I jerked suddenly; the voice felt tangible...separate. My fist clenched harder on my wand.

'I know you, better than you can imagine.' I looked around sharply, trying to find the source of the whispering. It felt like it was in my head but it wasn't. It wasn't Voldemort; I knew his voice.

Laughter. Polite laughter.

'Do you know what the silver instrument on Dumbledore's desk does, Harry?'

I shuddered, contemplating running to Pomfrey. So much for Gryffindor bravery.

'It shows you who you are underneath, Harry. Earlier in the year it showed you a snake splitting into two when Dumbledore directed it at you. It is us, Harry. We were together, but separate. Now we are separate, but together. Do not be afraid.'

'When you used the Killing Curse' – I shuddered again, involuntarily, 'we separated. A dichotomy. I now reside in your wand, Harry. I am a natural extension of yourself. Together we will be great...'

I released my grip on my wand and dropped it onto my bedside table in alarm.

'We are still together, Harry. A wand and a wizard, inexorably linked.'

'Where did you come from?' I wondered, hoping it would be able to hear me.

'When the Dark Lord attempted to kill you as a child, using the very spell that separated us, I was implanted into you. It was quite unintentional. I have grown up with you Harry. We have been unaware of each other, linked as part of one personality. Now we are apart, but still the same.'

“You're Voldemort?” I said, out loud in alarm. I'd involuntarily pushed myself away from my bedside table.

'I won't lie to you, Harry. I once was a part of the Dark Lord. But I am you now, Harry. We were together for the last fifteen years. I am you and you are I. It is unfortunate that we can never be made whole again...but the object in which I reside is permanently linked to you. We will never be apart.'

'What are you?' I asked, slightly repulsed.

'I was, and perhaps still am, what can be termed a Horcrux. If I am not very much mistaken the Headmaster will explain this term to you in short order. It is important that he not find out about me, Harry. He will try to destroy me. This would result in the destruction of your wand, but most important myself, and as a result a part of you. Dumbledore may not fully realise that I am you. It would result in your own insanity. One cannot function adequately with only part of a soul...'

'You're a part of my soul?' I still hadn't drawn any closer to my wand, but I couldn't bring myself to distrust my own wand. It was, as the voice said, an extension of myself. There could be no evil living inside my own wand. The Phoenix wand.

'In effect, yes. Dumbledore will not appreciate this, I fear. You shall have to decide for yourself when you talk with him, but I am quite certain he would attempt to destroy me, regardless of your protestations.'

'How do I know you're not lying to me?' I demanded.

'You do not. But you should be able to feel that I am a part of you. Touch me. You will feel it.'

Cautiously, I leaned over back towards my bedside table and looked at my phoenix wand. It seemed innocuous enough; the same as ever, with the addition of a few scorch marks, which could hopefully be polished away.

Tentatively I grasped the wand, and immediately felt its warmth in my hand. It was mine. I knew it, more so than when it was just my wand, it was mine. The gaping wound which I seemed to feel in my heart numbed slightly...

'What happens if you're destroyed?' I asked, silently disturbed by the thought.

'Part of your soul would be destroyed. Your personality would become unstable. Insanity would almost certainly result, if slowly at first. The Dark Lord's instability is mostly due to the damage he has inflicted upon his own soul...'

As my mind reeled with the consequences, Madam Pomfrey pulled back a curtain whilst holding a tray with two potions side-by-side.

“Drink these, if you would, Potter. The first will further help repair the physical damage. The second ought to enable you to get a good night's rest. The Headmaster has said he will talk with you  further after you have rested.”

I nodded slightly, downed the two potions and leant back in bed as Pomfrey closed the curtains again.

I drifted off to sleep with my wand firmly in my grasp...