At the twelfth stroke, Voldemort stepped up to him and pulled the boy into his arms. Desperately, Harry clutched his robes. The Dark Lord put his arm around the boy's waist and a hand on the back of his neck. With everybody else, it would have looked threatening. Hands so close to vital points. But tonight, Voldemort's only offered comfort. "Never again, my Harry. You'll never be neglected like that, I swear. You are precious, and I will never let you forget it!" A few minutes later, he let Harry go. "Happy Birthday, *my Horcrux*." The last words were unfamiliar, but Snape vowed to remember them. They seemed a form of endearment that made Harry smile.