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Summary
Voldemort had forgotten about the destructiveness of a leaky faucet. Potter bled frustration and grief, stray thoughts that he howled into the echo chamber of that empty head of his. And like two tin cans linked by string, Voldemort could hear them all. Let the faucet drip, drip, drip… less immediate damage, but more destructive overtime as the damp continues to spread. All of Potter's little secrets and desires dripped down Voldemort’s empty, bottomless gullet.
If Harry Potter was so keen to martyr himself, then he would martyr himself for Lord Voldemort’s campaign.
