Next Harry was 5. Harry was happy. Really happy. He skipped to the kitchen with a bright smile and happily made breakfast. He set the table and started the coffee maker. All Voldemort could think was, 'why is Harry making the food? He's 5.' Still, the morning went on. The bacon was almost done when Petunia called Harry to the living room. Harry reached of and turned of the stove top before hurrying off. Voldemort leaned in the door way between the kitchen and the living room.

As Petunia ordered Harry to fetch her something, something in the corner of the Dark Lord's eye caught his attention. Dudley was turning the stove top back on. What? Why would he-? The question was answered by smoke rising from the stove. When Harry came back it was to late. The bacon had burnt. Vernon and Petunia came in, furious.

"You burnt the bacon?! How are we supposed to eat now?! Can you do nothing right. Useless Freak!" Petunia slapped Harry, leaving a red hand print.

Vernon walked in, he was shaking in anger. He grabbed the skillet full of burnt bacon. "This! This is what we get for taking you in!?" He threw the whole skillet at the boy. Voldemort gasped. Hot Greece burnt though Harry's clothes. He screamed in pain. Vernon started punching the 5 year old Harry. 15 minuted passed. Even the dark lord watched in horror, unable to blink. Once Vernon was done he stood back up and kicked Harry's stomach and spat on him. "Maybe that will teach you to." Dudley smirked at the little boy who only cried on the floor. "Come here Dudleykins. We'll just go out to eat today. You boy, I expect thus mess to be clean before we get back." Everyone left.

Voldemort turned back towards Harry as if to ask if this was real, though he knew it was. Harry had turned around. Keeping his back to the whole thing. Harry couldn't watch that. Not again. Suddenly, Voldemort heard the young boy speak though his sobs. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry. I - I just wanted - you too sm- smile for my b- birthday." Voldemort felt his stomach knot.

Still, he couldn't find the words. Years went by in Harry's life. Beating after beating. Cruelty beyond measure. Year after terrible year.

Voldemort was always watching Potter's eyes. No matter what happened, there was always a light. A light that burned so bright and fierce. He loved it, but he could help but wounder how it went out. He turned back to Harry after yet another beating. He still refused to watch. Voldimort sighed. He walked over to Harry.

As each memory went by Harry never watched. He didn't have to. He tried to think of other things. Anything else. He waited until he was eleven again. Then things would get better. This life, his life. He never told anyone. He never let on. He'd been so careful that no one would know, yet here he was. Flat out reliving it with his enemy as a witness. A hand on his shoulder snapped Harry out of his thoughts. "Are you okay?" It asked. Voldemort, cared? No. No way. Voldemort is probably fighting a smile at his life. Still, Harry couldn't look as his childhood sobs came to his ears.

Harry felt himself turned around. Next thing he saw were eyes. Eyes if a snake, but somehow, the cared.