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Chapter Text

Harry's hands froze as he touched the cloak in his hands. He looked around perplexed taking in the red and gold opulence of the Gryffindor dormitory before his eyes landed on Ron shocked, then he glanced down at the cloak in his hands. Releasing the invisibility cloak he brought his hands up to his face, fumbled for a moment, before removing his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He then looked around only to pause put his glasses on and continue looking.

"You alright there, mate?" Ron asked at Harry's strange behavior.

Harry jolted. Then turned to Ron and said "Sorry Ron, I thought I was tripping for a moment."

"Tripping?" questioned Ron.

"Uh, mun-muggle saying. It means a little shocked." clarified Harry "I was just surprised that Dumbledore had any of my dad's robes, it's a little creepy, don't you think."

"Well he's Dumbledore, so he had a good reason, maybe?" Ron said.

"If he had my dad's stuff why only give it back now? What if he has other belongings from my parents? Is he just going to give them back one at a time?" Harry ranted, "do I have to wait until next year to get something of my mother's? What else does he have? Why did he have my vault key! I..."

"Ok, ok, Dumbledore is a bit barmy for gifting you things that should be yours," interrupted Ron.

Harry snapped out of his rant and turned to Ron. "Sorry, it's just I've never been allowed to own anything at the Dursley's. So him gifting MY things back to me seems very manipulative, you know?"

"Oh, I didn't think about it that way," said Ron, understanding painting his face into a grimace, "that's not right, are you going to talk to him about it?"

"No." said Harry with a complete sentence.

"What! Why not?" whined Ron.

Harry spluttered, "what would I even say? 'Professor Dumbledore do you have more of my parent's things? I want them back, they're mine.' Then he can just say,'" here Harry put on a grandfatherly expression "'Harry, my boy, you're too young. I'm just safe keeping and I'll give them back when you're old enough.'" Harry mimicked Dumbledore. "Who knows what old enough even means!" Harry exclaimed.

Ron snickered. "You sound just him, mate. Still, that's not right, that stuff is yours. We should talk to him."

"Thanks Ron, it means a lot that you care." Harry said, a nostalgic look on his face. After a few seconds of contemplation Harry spoke up again "C'mon lets go get breakfast."

Ron looked relieved with the subject change "Cor mate, I'm starved."

Despite being the dead of winter the day felt long with them playing in the snow, taking turns on Harry's broom. Watching, Harry deeply shocked, as Fred and George magicked snowballs to assault the back of Quirrell's head. Later, Harry and Ron ran into Dumbledore in the courtyard. Ron pushed Harry towards him and the response they got was "Your parents left very little of their possessions in my care, my boy, but what they did, I'm safekeeping until you're old enough." Dumbledore said stroking his beard. "You're too young, for most of it," here Dumbledore winked before slowly walking off. Harry smiled to hide the rising bile in his mouth. The evening feast was interesting to attend as now he had a better understanding of what the teachers were saying. He didn't know that the twins were already experimenting with pranks since they got their Hogsmeade pass, and access to Zonko's. It was fascinating to watch McGonagall and Snape commiserate over the twin's growing achievements.

Flitwick was listening to Hagrid complain that a witch refused to go on a date with him because he was too tall. 'I can't 'elp it." he said hiccupping into his mug 'I'mma 'alf giant, and short for a 'alf giant too. Does she wan'me to cut off me legs!' Quirrell was talking to Babbling about recent breakthroughs in the ancient ruins, and Harry noted barely any stutter. Babbling was animatedly writing on a napkin while Quirrell made occasional observations that made Babbling scribble out some parts and overline others. Harry really wanted to see what runes they were working with but knew they'd think he didn't understand.

So when dinner ended and they got back to the common room, Ron suggested another game of chess. Harry gently refused "I'm going to bed, night Ron."

Ron looked at him with surprise, "but Harry, mate it's still early."

"And I'm tired so I'm going to bed." said Harry.

"Fine, if you say so, I'll stay here for now, maybe I'll play chess. Goodnight."

"Night," said harry and trudged up the stairs. In the dorms he went to his trunk and changed into his pajamas. He thought about adding some wards to the trunk before deciding that that's a job for tomorrow when he has more energy.

Crawling in to bed though he pulled out his wand and casted some wards, simple ones like notice-me-not and silencing.

He then steeled himself and cast "tempus maxima" feeling the magic drain and allowing the numbers to float around him like a glowing umbrella. While a tempus would typically only show the current time, tempus maxima shows the time relative to him and everything around him, he looked down and cringed seeing the three digit number of his mattress. He gets magic and preservation charms can do miracles but why does his bed need to be 20 years older than Dumbledore. Skimming over the the galactic year of the galaxy 60, the galactic year of the earth 19.9(ignoring the still somewhat ridiculous number underneath in earth years). Finally his eyes settled on the numbers expressing his age and cringed at the bright, glowing numbers showing 11 earth years and 147 earth days. Illusions don't effect Tempus so that meant he was either in the past or heavily hallucinating and is honestly not sure what he would prefer.

He felt for his magic, it was weaker than before but otherwise there were no disturbances to indicate hallucinations.

He dispelled the Tempus and put his head in his hands, Morgana, he missed Mark. Harry didn't have much to return to but that didn't mean he wanted to relive his entire life. He was retired and trying to find himself, it hasn't been even a year. He'd thought he'd have at least 5, but they found him. Now he's in the past with a future he doesn't want. He doesn't want to relive his teen years and refuses to return to the Dursleys. Couldn't he have come back in his twenties or something? At least 17 instead of 11.

Move over Trelawny because there's a new seer in town and he can see that his future is going to suck. Ughh, he has to figure something out. Maybe he could go into hiding or something?

Who would even help hide him from everyone. A single day of social interactions has left him exhausted, and he dreads when the students come back after the winter holidays. He wants to be left alone in peace and not have to deal with anyone. But he can't just have someone lock him away, he needed leverage and freedom while being protected. Someone powerful enough to hide him from Dumbledore and Voldemort. Harry pauses at that thought. Dumbledore would never let him leave Hogwarts and the Dursleys because of the prophecy. Voldemort, on the other hand, like most dark lords, is very possessive of his belongings and would, no doubt, salivate at the chance to hide him away where only he would know. If Harry gives him a body, Voldemort will owe him. In the unlikely scenario Voldemort refuses, Harry will start the Horcrux hunt early.

The only problem left to ponder is, is Harry fine basically giving Magical Britain to Voldemort. Harry thought about the current Ministry of Magic. Considered how it is going to act in the future. The general attitude. The laws passed or struck down. Is he alright with passing the current democracy over into Voldemort's control to do with as he pleases. Eh, Harry shrugs, the ministry's stupidity and Voldemort's insane maliciousness are about the same level of harm. Hermione had done the math to prove it. Worst case scenario he'll kill Voldemort once he reaches majority. Voldemort isn't the first dark lord he killed anymore. Well, he was the first one in his past life. And... will probably be the first one again in this life if he's still crazy. Harry has killed another dozen or more after him in his past life so Harry's got DARK LORD MURDER™ down to a science. Harry muttered "easy peasy," then the toll on his young magic finally hit and he passed out.

Chapter Text

It's finally near the end of June and Harry is starring intensely at the stolen marauders' map in his hands in an unused third floor classroom. Sorry twins but he'll send it back once he's done.

He watches as Dumbledore is sitting at his desk. After a time Dumbledore approaches his window and stands there for a minute, before slowly descending down the steps towards McGonagall's classroom. A few seconds more and he begins to take the trek out of Hogwarts. It isn't until Dumbledore is out the door that harry puts down the map turns back to the room.

In the center of the room is a large magical runic circle that he has meticulously drawn. He walks into the center. He's been waiting for this moment since he's come back to this time. Any reservation he had about his actions is gone, he needs to get out of Hogwarts. If he's forced to relive his youth, he is going to live as he wants, and what he wants is to be left alone, as much as possible.

He begins chanting. The second the circle begins to glow he takes a sharp blade and slashes across his forearm. He cups his palm under the wound and once enough blood has gathered he drips it around him in a circle. He continues with his chanting and slowly the glow begins to darken, the original white light of the circle changes to yellow then red then burgundy then a dark purple before finally morphing to black. At that stage his chanting reaches a crescendo and when the last syllable leaves his lips a shattering sound can be heard. The circle of runes beneath him burns into and unintelligible mess and he sighs in relief. The ritual designed to sever any trackers on him, runic, ward, or blood in nature, was complete. Step one is a success.

He walks back to the map to check on Hogwarts's entrance. A few more minutes and Dumbledore isn't back. He really was taking his time, both times, piece of sh..... he needs to get back to business.

Harry grabbed the map and walked over to Hedwig by the window. She had watched the entire debacle quietly with wide yellow eyes. "Sorry Hedwig," he said regretfully, " we'll need to be separate for a while. Drop this map for the twins when no one is looking and look for me in two or three full moons. If you want to remain free that's fine, but if you want to come find me make sure you're not followed. I love you." he kissed the top of her head. Harry rolled up the map and tied it to her leg. "Pull this cord when you want to drop it," he motioned to the longer cord, only to have her bark offensively and gently bite his arm in reprimand. "Sorry girl, I forgot how smart you are. Wont happen again." Hedwig gave a haughty hoot before shooting out the window with a whistle. Harry watched as her form grew smaller in the distance before she dived somewhere over the forbidden forest.

Harry watched her flight with a nostalgic sigh, before throwing the invisibility cloak over himself and exiting the classroom. He looked both ways and once he saw the corridor empty, headed towards Fluffy's room.

Harry opened the door-that-should-have-been-locked and spotted all three heads of Fluffy snoring gently in his sleep. In the corner the enchanted harp from his first life making a comeback playing a lullaby. The thought of what other enchanted instruments does Voldy know crossed his mind, and Harry snorted to himself as he used magic to open the trapdoor.

Harry jumped inside blindly and fell onto soft moving vines. He panicked for a second as they began to wrap around his body, but quickly gained his bearing and fired off a 'lumos solem'. A thud could be heard as the devil snare dropped him to the floor below.

Harry dusted himself off and walked into the next room. He stared in annoyance at the room of flying keys and quickly spotted the one with a broken wing. Harry threw an 'accio key' at it. To his surprise the key was instantly pulled into his hand and harry threw a mental two fingered salute in Dumbledore's direction as he was reminded once more how everything was a weird little test for Harry to prove his capabilities if he didn't even bother warding the key against a fourth-year charm. Grabbing the key out of the air he ran to the door ignoring the dupes trying to attack him like angry birds.

The next room was the mountain troll, sprawled on the floor, injury visible on it's forehead. Harry walked around it. As he approached the door to the next room he made sure the invisibility cloak was in place and walked through to find carnage. The giant chess pieces were slowly rebuilding, but there were still parts all across the room. It looked like a tornado had passed through. Gouges and the occasional ceramic piece logged in the wall from the one that passed before him. The chess set was too busy rebuilding itself to notice Harry quietly sneak past with his invisibility cloak.

Harry approached the last obstacle before the mirror, looked at the 7 potion bottles on the table, and the burning wall of fire. If he remembers correctly it was the smallest potion vial that was the answer. If it isn't, at this point he doesn't care. He's tired. He grabbed the bottle and walks to the 'door' ready to either deal with Voldemort or be fried to a crisp.

Harry gripped the potion bottle and swung it back like a shot. He felt the ice cold liquid travel down his throat, then through his veins. He remembered correctly. He steeled himself and stepped forward through the fire.

"Voldemort" Harry said, eyes glancing around the room. "I want to make a deal."

His eyes landed on the mirror, and the figure in front of it. The face that twisted from the mirror was both unexpected and not, as Harry realized he misremembered something from his past life and smacked his forehead with his palm in self indignation.

"Aw bloody hell, I forgot about Quirrell." Harry felt his face heat up in mortification as he felt 6 months of planning go down the drain. Nope, fuck this, he's here to make a deal. "Quirrell, turn around, I want to talk to Voldemort."

"Pp-pp-p-ppot-tter, I d-don't know whatt your tt-talking about." Quirrell stammered shocked at the current turn of events.

When a sibilant voice called out "I wish to speak to the boy."

"Master! You're not strong enough." Quirrell tried to argue.

"I am strong enough for this." Voldemort countered, and Quirrell began to unwrap the turban.

Harry watched as Voldemort's face got revealed from under the cloth. His eyes red and glowing and his cheekbones as high as Harry remembered.

"Tell me, Potter, what kind of deal do you wish to make with Lord Voldemort?" and Harry was sure that if he wasn't stuck to the back of Quirrell's head the man would be circling him like a ravenous wolf.

Well, Harry thought, in for a knut, yada yada, "Easy, I help you get a new body and you help me to a well-warded location so I can be a hermit."

Voldemort's harsh laughter rang out through the room, "You? What makes you think you have the knowledge to restore me to greatness?"

Harry walked over to the mirror and grimaced as his double dropped the stone into his pocket. 'Wanker' Harry thought, though unsure if it's at his reflection or Dumbledore. He took the stone out of his pocket and held it out for Voldemort to take. "Well, I'm your best bet for a quick resurrection, considering the stone's fake." Harry would know, it was hard to ignore the evidence glaring him in the face when he ran into Flamel and his wife while traveling through Bangladesh with Mark in the future. "Honestly I'm surprised Dumbledore, or you, would actually believe that the Flamels would give up their stone after 600 years of secrecy no matter how friendly they are."

Quirrell's hand reached out awkwardly to grab the stone and twisted at an angle so Voldemort could critically observe at the ruby in his hands. "Say I do believe you. Why would you wish to leave Hogwarts?"

"As much as I would love to tell you my entire life story, our time is limited. Long story short I lived to be a 70 year old man and next thing I know I'm in my eleven year old body. I was sick of people in my old life, and being around hormonal teenagers is not something I ever want to relive. That's why I'm here. I'm stuck as a child so buying and warding property is currently outside of my abilities." Harry finished with a huff, arms folded.

"Warding is outside your means, but a resurrection ritual is?" Voldemort questioned incredulously.

"I have almost all the necessary ingredients," Harry pulled out a little pouch tied around his neck, "plus I'm a professional at resurrection rituals. I could do it in my sleep."

"So you would return me to power, give me wizarding Britain on a silver platter, all to become my willing prisoner." Voldemort laughed.

"Eh, I guess? I do have a small list of qualities I want my residence to have as well as some warding ideas. You're welcome to add any of your own to the list if you want. Also, I don't want any death eaters to know where I will be. Also I want to be able to work on my projects as much as I want." Harry said counting his requests on his fingers.

"What projects?" asked Voldemort.

"Whatever I want. I picked up many hobbies in my later years, a few of them dark in nature. If I stay in Hogwarts the likelihood of me being sent to Azkaban is high."

"Let's say I agree to your request, how soon can you acquire a body for me."

"By midnight." Harry said with zero hesitation.

"Potter that's less than 6 hours away." Voldemort's voice was dripping with disbelief.

"And I'm a professional at body building, I'm so good you could call me Frankenstein."

"Frankenstein was the doctor."

"A doctor that built a body."

After a few seconds Harry heard a heavy sigh, and watched with rapidly rising excitement as Voldemort said "Very well, I shall take your offer, but know this. If you fail. I am going to hunt down and eviscerate everyone you know and love in the slowest way possible."

"Cool, cool," said Harry ignoring everything Voldemort said while pulling out a piece of rolled up parchment from his bag. "This is a portkey that will take us to Riddle Manor. We could use a room there for your ritual."

"How do you know about Riddle Manor?"

"You were the first dark lord I ever killed, of course I know everything about you." Harry said while batting his eyelashes.

"Master I'm not sure if this is wise." Quirrell finally decided to speak up.

"Silence, grab the parchment."

Quirrell whimpered and grabbed the parchment.

Harry smiled, wide and sharp and said "I'm glad we have an agreement. To new beginnings." and the world around them twisted.

Chapter Text

While Quirrelmort was able to land firmly on his feet, Harry continued twisting for another second and fell flat on his back.

After a second on the floor Harry sighed and got up from the floor. "Damnit, I'm not used to this body." Harry dusted himself from whatever grime littered the spot he landed in.

"Are you ah-alright, Potter?" Quirrell asked.

"Never better." Harry said sarcastically.

"Enough. Potter hurry up and begin the ritual." Voldemort interjected.

"Of course, your majesty," Harry took the parchment that was still in Quirrellmort's hands and unfurled it. "Before we start, I need you to sign this." Harry gave the parchment back to Quirrellmort. "It's a contract to make sure we don't go back on our deal."

"And here I thought you an idiot for not asking for a Vow." Voldemort looked at the contract in his hands.

"Contracts are more convenient, vows need three people and I forgot Quirrell was here, sorry Quirrell." said Harry.

"It's quite alright Potter." Said Quirrell.

"Besides," Harry continued. "The contract is very simple you provide me with sufficient housing for 7 years. Agree to not starve, torture, kill, and/or attack me during that time or you'll suffer the loss of your magic. I provide you with a body and promise not to starve, torture, kill, and/or attack you either."

"You think you can kill me?" Voldemort sneered.

Harry side-eyed Voldemort, "I told you 5 minutes ago that you were the first dark lord I ever killed, did you forget that already?"

Voldemort ignored Harry's question and changed the topic. "Why only seven years?"

"In seven years, the Potter's and the Black's family vaults will finally be available to me, which includes the properties. Also, even if I had the money, you can't buy or inherit housing property in magical Britain before your majority. And even if I somehow could confound a muggle to give me land, with the trace I can't even ward properly it to protect myself. Without wards you and everyone else would be able to find me." Harry explained.

"I see, and in seven years. What do you plan to do then?" Voldemort inquired as Quirrellmort walked over to a nearby dining table and grabbed a dusty fork, pulled out a wand and transfigured it into a quill.

"I'll probably move into one of my properties. Take the OWLS and... what was the other one..." Harry scratched the back of his head in concentration. "it starts with an 'n'. N-, n- GNATS? No, well, whatever. The other one." said Harry, giving up on remembering the name of a test that he never took 50 years ago, and to be honest wasn't planning it this time either.

Quirrellmort then placed the contract on the table quill in hand, then paused and turned to Harry curiously "Why not go to Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore is a wanker that can go fuck himself." Replied Harry with zero hesitation.

At that a snort escaped Voldemort's lips and he signed the parchment. "I want to know how Dumbledore's golden boy had come to hate him so."

Harry walked over, grabbed the quill, and signed his name right next to Voldemort's. He then rolled up the parchment and stuck it in his robe pocket. "Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it. I'm an old man, we love telling stories about our youth." Harry told Voldemort with a smile, a small gap in his lower jaw where a baby tooth fell out recently.

Then, Harry remembered he's on a timer. "Before we start the ritual. What kind of body do you want?" Harry asked.

"Pardon?"

"In my previous life you came back an ugly snake monster with high cheekbones. I want to know if that's the look you want this time. Do you want to look more human? Or both and switch between the two?" Harry clarified.

"I suppose being able to switch would be ideal. I can conquer the wizarding world from separate angles." pondered Voldemort.

Harry tsked and replied, "Oh, that one costs a little extra."

"What do you mean extra!" Voldemort rounded on the boy in fury, "I've already agreed to your silly little deal, and now you think you have the right to demand more."

"The ritual is a lot more complicated and uses more rare ingredients" Harry rebutted, "If you don't want to pay extra pick a different option."

Voldemort and Harry glared at each other until Voldemort acquiesced "Very well... what do you want?"

"Ban love potions."

Voldemort rolled his eyes at the banal request, "Deal."

"Great!" Harry quipped and began walking down a hallway checking rooms as he passed.

"What are you doing?" Said Voldemort after the third room failed whatever criteria Potter wanted.

"I need an empty room." said Harry opening another door only to be faced with another room of heavy opulence. Heavily embroidered curtains. A dusty crystal chandelier. Large, lavish couches and armchairs all now a mix of wood, leather and dust. Finally his eyes landed on a dusty marble fireplace... above which was a stuffed tiger head. Harry slammed the door and walked to the next room only to be met with a similar theme, only instead of a head its a pair of long ivory tusks covered in intricate metalwork. The next room was a bit larger and above the mantel was a giant portrait of a man, woman and a young man standing behind them inside a dirty golden picture frame.

Quirrellmort prevented Harry from slamming the door shut. They then took Quirrell's wand and flicked at the room. All the furniture disintegrated,. Everything was reduced to dust, including the portrait and the frame. Then with a another swirl the dust was gone.

"Cor, thanks." said Harry wide eyed at how much bigger than before the room looked. Harry walked around Quirrellmort and into the center of the room. He grabbed a small pouch around his neck and reached his entire hand into the pouch. "I still don't like murder, but honestly I get it, aha" Harry pulled out an orange sized spherical stone with strange groves covering the entire thing.

"Are you saying my patricide was justified?" Voldemort watched as Harry pressed a few buttons, set the stone on the floor, and began to quickly leave the room.

"I'm not saying it's justified." Harry motioned for Quirrell to leave the room and quickly followed him out before turning and closing the door behind him. "I'm saying the house makes patricide look reasonable." He then closed his ears with his fingers, crouched down, and yelled "Fire in the hole!"

Quirrellmort barely had time to cover his ears when barrage of booms exploded from the room, followed by a buzzing noise that slowly began to stagger until it stopped. A few more seconds of silence, and then a long beep echoed through the hallways.

Harry then stood up quickly, paused, then jauntily walked over to the door and opened the room. Most of the room was now covered in runes gouged into the floorboards, a line of red liquid painted the inside. Harry looked closely at the circle for any imperfections and finding none he gave a nod of satisfaction.

Quirrellmort followed him to the door. The circle was impressive, spanning the diameter of the room. Sharp, intricate, designs intercepted delicate Sanskrit, all flowing together into a work of art. The inside of the design was covered in what is definitely blood, who's or what's Voldemort didn't care.

Harry was, once again, in the center of the room digging more things out of his pouch.

Finally he pulled out a small box with a tiny cauldron inside, put it in the center and tapped another rune. The box grew quickly and only stopped once the cauldron was large enough to fit two people. Inside the cauldron was an opaque concoction that smelled faintly of mint and sage. Harry then pressed another rune on the box and it burned away leaving just the cauldron in the center.

Voldemort, watching the entire ordeal from the door, finally decided to speak up, "Impressive."

Harry jolted, "Well, it's not that amazing. I learned a lot about resurrection rituals from experience," said Harry, not making eye contact and scratching the back of his head, "but most of the runes and ancient languages I learned from Mark."

"How many resurrection rituals did you participate in?" Asked Voldemort.

"Funnily enough, this is my first one with my willing involvement." Clarified Harry. "Why, if I had a galleon for every time I was forced into one, I'd have two galleons. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice. You were my first for that too." Harry then stood over the cauldron and held up his wand.

"I thought you couldn't use magic because of the trace?" Voldemort noted.

"I can't use wand magic," said Harry and gave the wand a gentle stroke. "But I can use magic without a wand." A resounding crack echoed in the room as the wood in Harry's hand split in two. The feather inside slid out and slowly drifted to land in the potion, and was absorbed instantly, causing it to turn a bright glowing red. "Okay, get inside."

"You just destroyed your wand." Voldemort stood shocked.

"Well, were else would I be able to get a phoenix feather on such short notice," said Harry nonchalantly. "Now get inside, I can't start until you're in the cauldron."

Quirrellmort walked over to the cauldron and looked inside, "Should I remove my robe?"

"If it's important to you, sure." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "If you don't care keep it on. The potion will burn away everything dead or nonorganic." A grin appeared on his face, "So I would avoid putting your conscience in there."

Quirrellmort rolled his eyes and took of his robe, followed by his tunic, and finally his trousers, folding each as he went. He set his wand on top of the pile and in his knickers crawled into the brew and motioned for Harry to continue.

Before Harry began though, he picked up the folded clothes, and wand, scrunched them into a ball, and threw them just outside the door. "The circle would also burn them." Harry explained to the outraged face of Quirrel.

"I regret our agreement." Voldemort said with a longsuffering sigh.

"Well too bad," said Harry taking a few more things out of the pouch and dumping it into the potion. "Hold your breath." Quirrelmort barely had any time before he was sucked below into the liquid.

Harry then took out a vial of his blood and poured it into the potion too. Once the potion brightened, he stepped out of the circle and started chanting in ancient Sumerian. His voice ebbed and flowed as if he was singing and concentrated magic filled the room. The circle itself began glowing a dark red that shifted to yellow, then white, then blue. Harry's voice reached a crescendo, the rune's glow intensified to the point that any spectators had to turn away. Then, just like that, the light extinguished. All that was left was a charred, indistinguishable, circle shaped mess. The cauldron melted away and the concoction inside, once red, was now a silver color. Instead of spilling out, it began to rise upwards. It then split into two figures, one taller than the other. The two lightly glowing silver blobs then shrink-wrapped into two pale, nude, human forms. The shorter one collapsed on his knees, while the taller one remained standing looking at his hand in a curious matter. After a few seconds of observation the hand grew elongated claw-like nails and scales grew down his arm before stopping and reversing until the hand turned human again. An evil laugh erupted from the Voldemort's new lips, but was interrupted by the nearby spectator.

"Boo! Gross! Nudity around minors! Pedofff-" only for his voice to be silencioed.

Voldemort rounded on Harry "Potter, shut up before I murder you."

Harry motioned a zipper over his lips, put his hands together in mockery of prayer, and opened his eyes wide to look angelic as possible. That only lasted for a second before a large, silent yawn escaped his lips.

Voldemort sneered and waved his hand to undo the silencio. "Show me your list," he demanded.

"I'm too tired" another yawn, this time at full volume, "Ask me in the morning." Harry then lied down on the floor, curled into a ball, and started snoring.

Voldemort looked at the tiny figure curled up on the charred floor and scoffed. He picked up the brat into his arms and turned to Quirrell, still kneeling on the burned floor in shock.

"Quirrell, you've done well. Figure out were you want to sleep and I'll summon you tomorrow."

Voldemort then stepped out of the room, around the pile of clothes, and into went into a nearby suite. A grandfather clock chimed the entire time he pointed Quirrell's wand for casting as he transfigured one of the couches into a bed, dropped the sleeping Potter on it. There were plenty of pillows so he summoned one and changed it into a comforter and draped it over the bed. The clock was now blessedly silent and he staggered as the strain of the resurrection, his new body, and the use of new untrained magical reserves caught up with him. Seeing as the closest bed was transfigured by him, he went to the other side and plopped on it. He barely had enough strength to pull the comforter over himself too, before he passed out.

Chapter Text

Harry Potter was walking through a dungeon.

Each individual cell housed a victim of torture and poor sanitation. He ignored the moans and wails around him until he reached a cell with a little girl

silently sitting on a cot. She had her head down and her legs curled to her chest. As he approached the cell door it opened of it's own volition and he stepped inside her cell and slowly approached her.

"Hey," he said. Stopping a short distance away to not startle her too much, though that didn't stop her from jolting as if electrocuted at the sound of his voice. "Are you alright?"

The face that looked up at him was a tiny, 12 year old, teary eyed Hermione. "Why did you abandon us, Harry? You could have killed Voldemort so easily." She glared at him, resentment overshadowing whatever sorrow she was thinking about before. "Why did you abandon us!" she screamed. She then jumped off the bed and tried to run at him, but the chains on her arms and legs pulled taunt and she ended up falling, on the dirty floor bawling.

Harry paused confused for a second, the last thing he remembered was the ritual, and how exhausted he was after that intricate work of magic. Note to self, avoid doing resurrection rituals. He doesn't know how Wormtail was still awake after his tryst, but maybe the pain of the missing limb kept him lucid enough. Also that he was an adult wizard probably helped.

"Why did I... Oh, this is a dream." He looked around the cell and waved his hand. Wails morphed into the chirping sounds of birds and the rustling of leaves. The cell walls melted to reveal a large outdoor garden. The cot Hermione was previously attached to became an elegant chair. A table appeared before them with a steaming teapot, fancy tea set, and a plate of assorted biscuits. The dreary, claustrophobic cell was now an open, light filled gazebo. Hermione, before in dirty grey rags reminiscent of his childhood, was now in clean, soft, knitted sweater. The denim jeans that she would prefer to wear outside class. Cream colored Mary janes adorned her feet. The chains were gone and, like magic, she lifted into the air to be set down gently into the chair.

Harry sat in his own chair that appeared behind him and began pouring Dreamione and himself tea. "Now," he said, passing a steaming cup of tea to her with a bowl of sugar cubes. "What's wrong."

Hermione glared at him petulantly and responded "You abandoned us to Voldemort, you left us all to die. You were supposed to kill him."

"Cool, cool," said Harry. "Hermione, how old is my body currently?"

"Eleven, but inside you're much older. You have a lot of experience! You know what will happen and could prevent all the tragedies that happened before. You could have killed Voldemort within a year but are now siding with him. He'll kill us all!" She finished her speech passionately, arms raised to emphasize her point.

Harry took a sip of his tea before responding "Uh-huh. Tell me, who will take me seriously? I might have knowledge, but that means nothing to people who'll only see a child. Also, do you think I should go back to the Dursley's? Should I still listen to Dumbledore when he literally orchestrated my death? Voldemort is probably evil, and I'll probably have to put him down, but that time is not now."

"But..." Hermione trailed off.

"This is not negotiable. He is, unfortunately, a necessary and powerful evil that will allow me a freedom that remaining in Hogwarts will never give me."

Hermione started crying, tears flowing down her face. "But what if he decides to kill everyone?"

"Then he's stupider than I thought." Harry answered. He then stood up and walked around the table. He kneeled down in front of Hermione and cupped her cheek. "Don't worry too much. I have a few plans in place. He won't know what hit him."

Hermione looked at him inquisitively, "so you set this up, Potter?"

"Ye-what?" Harry was confused by the sudden change of tone.

"Up Potter." she repeated before her voice dropped a couple octaves and sounded like a much older man, "Wake up, Potter."

Harry had barely any time to react when he felt water sprayed in his face. Sputtering he sat up in shock, to find himself in a large puddle of water and Voldemort standing in front of him, wand in hand.

"Good, you've finally woken up." Voldemort was fully dressed, hair perfectly styled, and a look of annoyance on his face. "Give me your list so that I could get this done and over with."

"Argh" was Harry's intelligent reply as he slid out of the soggy bed, no, transfigured couch, he amends. He runs both hands over his face trying to get his bearings and to remove the last bits of sleep from his eyes. "It's too early. Can't I at least have breakfast first?"

"It's nearly noon. You're slept long enough." said Voldemort clearly unimpressed. "Give me the list, then you could go ask Quirrell for food. I have informed him that he is to ensure your safety and wellbeing as I get everything ready."

"Aww, you do care." said Harry as he started dug his hand into his pouch for the list.

"I refuse to entertain your delusions." Voldemort refuted.

"You're no fun-ah here it is." Harry pulled out a parchment from his bag and handed it to Voldemort.

Voldemort looked at the parchment to see thin lines of dots. Looking closer he could see that the dots are actually letters and the lines are sentences. He skimmed the lines and saw that they were numbered and looking at the bottom the numbers went past 50. "I thought you said the list was short, this is over fifty bullet points."

"No it isn't. It's double sided." said harry pulling out some trousers from the pouch followed by a shirt and knickers. "Where's the restroom, I need to freshen up."

Voldemort sneered "You could ask me to dry your cloths, we are wizards, after all."

Harry looked down at his current soggy attire then back at him, "I'm a bit magic sensitive. So if it's not my own magic, it feels weird on my skin. It's the reason for number 13, 34, 42, 69, and 87."

Voldemort sighed and pointed to a door left of the entrance, and read the list as Harry hobbled to the bathroom. As he was reading he heard the shower turn on. Ten minutes later a fresh, citrusy Harry stepped out. His clothes were still muggle style but way newer than the previous rags he had underneath his cloak, that was nowhere in sight either. Now that Voldemort contemplates it the brat wasn't wearing any part the school uniform yesterday either.

"You brought your own soap?"

"Yes, any other questions?" Harry asked.

"What exactly do you plan to create if I was to give you sufficient resources?" Asked Voldemort.

"I promise..." Harry started, a hand on his heart, "It will not be anything to escape or to kill you." Harry then continued. "Most of it will be things to make the house more livable for me without wand magic. Maybe an automaton pet or two." Shrugged Harry.

"If you're making automatons why do you need an owlery?"

"For Hedwig, my owl, of course. I asked her to come to me once the home is done."

"How sweet." Voldemort's tone was so dry that Harry felt like he needed a glass of water. Voldemort stood up, "Very well, I will be back soon, Quirrell can entertain you while I'm gone." He then walked out of the room.

Harry could only watch perplexed at how easily Voldemort accepted his demands. Harry almost regretted his choices right there at how smoothly things are going. He had thought it would take at least a day to convince Voldemort to follow half of the list.

'whatever' Harry thought, shrugging it off. 'I'll burn that bridge when I get to it.' Harry then left the room to look for the kitchen he saw last night and get some breakfast.

Chapter Text

"You need to visualize it. Imagine it like a second skin beneath the surface and you're pushing it to the top." Harry explained.

Quirrell's forehead was damp with sweat as he ground out in frustration "I'm trying." The tips of his nails a couple shades darker than they were before and more pointy. "You could leave me be, and I'll practice on my own."

"I'm bored, and I can't go anywhere till Voldy's back." Potter shrugged.

"Don't call the dark lord that!" Quirrell gasped his eyes darting around as if Voldemort might pop out from behind a dining chair.

"Do not call me what." inquired Voldemort as he walked through the dining room entryway. Quirrell gasped and threw his hands behind his back, like a child caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

Voldemort gave Quirrell a hard look before turning to the main gremlin.

"I'm not supposed to call you Voldy, Voldemort." Harry said, grinning, as he turned around to greet the man he hadn't seen in almost a week.

Voldemort made a striking image even in his human form. His hair was well groomed, not a strand out of place. He wore a black robe that seemed to float behind him, embroidery a green so dark that it took Harry a moment to notice the snakes artfully accenting the hems of his clothes. Under the robe was a black turtleneck that made Voldemort's neck almost look sinful, a thought that Harry immediately shoved so far down not even veritaserum would drag that confession from his lips.

"Quirrell, is correct. I would advise you not to call me by that name." Said Voldemort. In a couple strides he approached the table and sat down on an empty chair.

Harry's grin never left his face as he raised his right hand in a mock salute, "I promise to never call you Voldy to your face, Voldemort."

Voldemort smiled pleasantly as he heard the subtle ow from Harry when the stinging hex hit, before turning to Quirrell with a raised brow.

Qurriell crumbled almost instantly but before any noise could leave his mouth, he was interrupted by Harry. "There was an unintended side effect from the ritual!" Harry gushed, a pleased look on his face. "C'mon, show him."

Quirrell, now resigned to his fate, raised one of his hands and scrunched his face in concentration. Voldemort watched silently as the human hand slowly grew paler and a small scattering of scales around the nails. The nails were slowly darkening and extending to a point. The slow transformation went on for almost a minute, before Quirrell broke concentration and instantly changed back. Quirrell slumped in his seat, panting heavily, as if he had just ran a marathon, and closed his eyes to await the verdict from the dark lord. Surely the man would refuse to share, only allowing himself such a power.

"Interesting," said Voldemort, mind racing. "Quirrell, you will train to complete your transformation. Then I will decide if it will be of any use to me."

"I-Thank you, my lord." Quirrell stammered, but Voldemort's attention was already elsewhere.

"Potter, are you ready for your new prison?"

Harry's grin was replaced with surprise, "It can't be finished already!"

"Why, in that case, did you think I returned?"

"I don't know! Maybe you wanted to ask why a single man wanted 5 restrooms or something." Harry grabbed his hair in frustration.

"W-why did you ask for f-five restrooms?" Quirrell's meek voice interrupted Harry's internal monologue.

"Reasons." was all the explanation Harry gave before he sighed, and addressed Voldemort. "Fine, fine, this is good, actually. How did you even finish it so fast."

At that Voldemort gave a wicked grin "You would be surprised how many torture curses could be repurposed for... other uses. Do not worry about your magic sensitivity, I used dark magic that dissipates quickly."

Harry shook off his daze and stood up from the table, "Well what are we waiting for, lets go see my prison." He then stormed out of the dining room.

Voldemort turned back to Quirrell, "I will summon you in a month to monitor your progress, dismissed." Then they both left the dining room in separate directions, one with effortless, elegant poise, and the other scrambling like the hounds of hell were nipping at heels.

Harry was waiting for Voldemort in front of the main entrance, when the man approached him with all the hurry of a lazy tiger. Voldemort silently extended his hand to Harry, and Harry felt the magic of apparition the moment he touched it.

When Harry finally looked up from the dirt path he was sprawled upon, he saw the path extended beyond a scattering of trees to a decent sized house with large windows. He got up and ran after Voldemort who cared not about his desire to soak in the atmosphere and was already almost at the house.

The front door opened to reveal a hallway that lead to the living room and a staircase to the second floor. Harry took in the details of a new place with shocked wonder on his face. Voldemort followed behind him giving him a quick overview.

"I have already set the wards, nothing living will be able to pass through them, and anything that tries shall be eviscerated."

"That's going to decimate the local wildlife population," Harry muttered, but Voldemort ignored him and continued his monologue.

"I have prepared the 5 rooms you asked for, a bedroom, a materials room, a potion studio, and a couple of empty rooms to do with as you please. As well as your... 5 bathrooms." Explained Voldemort as Harry walked through the hallway opening every door he passed to check inside.

When Harry found one of the doors locked, he made an inquisitive noise, confused as to why any room in his new abode would be locked.

"That is one of my rooms, I would prefer it if you did not go inside. Assume any locked room to belong to me." said Voldemort as he approached Harry from behind and opened the door to reveal an office. A large mahogany desk in front of a window overlooking the forested area behind the house. There where floor to ceiling book shelves on either side as well as a fireplace near one of the corners. A portrait of a gorgon rested over the mantle and when she saw Harry and Voldemort she gave a little wave before returning to what she was doing before, braiding the snakes on her head.

"Why do you have rooms here?" said Harry, returning the gorgons wave. "I thought you'd just dump me here and occasionally check up on me to make sure I don't croak."

"You could say you inspired me, Potter." said Voldemort, "Besides, if I am to create an entire house from scratch, I plan to enjoy the fruits of my labor. The stupidity of the wizarding world gets to me occasionally. A quiet place to step away from it all seems ideal."

"Fine ok," acquiesced Harry, "but what if I want to borrow a book then."

"Get it form the library, it has a copy of every book I have in here and more."

"You made a library? I can't believe I forgot to add that to the list." muttered Harry.

"It's on the third floor. Near the owlery you begged for, how any owl will remain alive passing through the wards is not my problem. Now that you're situated I have things to do." Said Voldemort, then turned to leave.

"You're leaving already?" Harry followed Voldemort as he left the house.

"My end of the bargain is temporarily finished, I must now go and see what plans could be salvaged and what needs to be reworked."

"Wait Voldemort, before you go, I wanted to ask, what are you planning to do with the wizarding world?" inquired Harry.

"I will save it from its own mind-numbing stupidity." Answered Voldemort.

"Does that include getting rid of munda-muggleborns?" asked Harry.

"If I must." said Voldemort.

"That's a bad idea," singsonged Harry.

"It seems even old age has not rid you of being a mudblood loving fool." Sneered Voldemort.

"Oh, its not that," said Harry, ignoring the accusation, "Consider this, do you think Lucius Malfoy pays taxes?"

"He pays taxes, he's part of the government as well as the board of governors." refuted Voldemort.

"Are you sure?" asked Harry, "You have people in the government, so surely they could give you a nice little breakdown of who gets taxed the most." said Harry, remembering how Hermione rolled on the floor laughing over what she found.

Voldemort, though, ignored him and disapparated. Leaving Harry standing by himself on the property, listening to the breeze gliding through the trees.

"It's so quiet, maybe I should make a dog." said Harry to himself, ideas streaming through his mind, as he turned around and returned to his new 'prison'.