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Strike one.
Lord Voldemort, for all that he struck fear into his followers and the heathens alike, seemed to be having a very bad day.
Normally, he didn't feel the urge to sleep. It was more of a luxury after his regeneration. And really, did he even have time to sleep? Between all the paperwork he had to deal with after taking over The Ministry, albeit the general public doesn't know that it's him running The Ministry, and trying to keep his idiot followers from making even more stupid decisions he didn't have much time to think, let alone sleep. Although, he had not been afforded a lessened appetite nor a lessened need for hydration. He still needed three square meals a day, and at least a litre and a half of some type of drink to continue to function. Salazar forbid he lose his strength now, that would just be embarrassing.
Which is why he was confused why he was so drowsy once he had finished his evening tea. Perhaps the exhaustion of the seventeen tasks he seemed to be juggling at once had finally caught up to him? He had neatened the papers on his desk and taken himself to bed, all the same. He had even fallen asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. It was quite likely the best sleep he'd had in a very long time.
Voldemort awoke close to noon the day after, which really should've been the biggest red flag. Never in his life had he slept in so late, not even if he was sick out of his mind. But it didn't register to him that something was off, not yet at least.
No, he went through the motions of his morning routine without even a hint that anything strange could've happened to him. He stretched, read the Daily Prophet copy that had already been dropped at the table by his window, and left to check in on progress with his followers.
The moment he walked into the Malfoy's largest dining room, where his Death Eaters were already gathered, to every head in the room turning to face him with looks of complete shock was where he had noticed that something was terribly wrong. Severus was as impassive as always, but Mulciber and Goyle both looked far too close to laughter for his liking.
"Care to share with me what you think is so amusing? Do I have something on my face?" Voldemort sneered, his voice dripped with sarcasm and contempt, as he swept across the room to take his seat at the head of the table.
Severus also happened to be the one brave enough to answer what was meant to be posed as a rhetorical question, as he cleared his throat and averted his eyes to the suddenly very interesting table cloth. "As a matter of fact, My Lord, you do. Though, it is less so your face and more so your head." Someone snickered from the other end of the room; Voldemort's magic flared out around him. These low lives thought him funny, did they?
"And what," his words were deceptively calm, "pray tell, is it?" Severus' eyes darted up to his head before being fixed on the table once more.
"I believe the muggles call them 'googly eyes', My Lord."
Silence.
It stretched, and thickened with enough tension that not even a goblin made dagger could cut through it.
"Googly eyes." The word was stupid. He had no doubt that he sounded even more stupid saying it.
"And there appears to be a note stuck under one of the ones at the back." He hummed, reaching a hand behind his head until he felt the slip of paper brush against his fingers. He plucked it out, knocking loose the eye it was under and letting it fall to the floor with an annoying click, and brought it in front of him to read.
Your head was looking a bit sparse, thought having eyes at the back of it may help you actually catch me. You know, since you're doing a horrific job of it currently.
-HJP
Ps- There's a specific spell to get them off and I highly doubt you'll be figuring it out any time soon. xoxo
He read it over at least three times before he burnt it in his hand and let the ashes fall to the ground. His followers sat there, in that same tension, waiting for any sort of reaction. What they weren't expecting, though, was the close to hysterical laughter that bubbled up and out of their Lord. It was pitchy like nails on a chalkboard and only served to confuse them, if the looks on others faces were to be believed.
Voldemort's laughter stopped abruptly and he slammed a fist down on the table; he startled the Death Eaters back to attention.
"I want Harry Potter brought to me, that is your first priority as I am going to wring his neck once I find him." He practically growled, yet nobody moved to follow his order like they knew they should've. "Well? What are you idiots waiting for? GET OUT." Shouting seemed to do the trick. They all scrambled to leave the room like the pathetic cowards they were, and he was left alone to simmer in his anger.
None would be able to save Potter once he got his hands on him.
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Strike two.
It had been a few weeks and the "googly eye incident", as he had now taken to calling it in his own thoughts, had been pushed to the back of his mind. Voldemort just didn't have the time nor energy to focus on it properly right now. Everything that wasn't related to the overhaul of the Auror department or trying to worm his way into Hogwarts was immediately put on the back burner, though he would soon come to regret that.
It was much the same routine as the last time, the boy had managed to slip something into his evening cup of tea and Voldemort was out cold not too long after. The only difference was that, this time, he was prepared.
While Voldemort himself couldn't do anything, that didn't stop Nagini from lying in wait for their little visitor.
And Harry Potter found that out the hard way.
Same as he had a few weeks ago, he lay in wait in the woodland surrounding Malfoy Manor then, once all the lights had gone out, slipped through the wards and up to a window on the second floor that he'd left open a crack. Enough that he'd be able to open it and sneak in, yet inconspicuous enough that he'd get in undetected. He wasn't quite sure why nor how the wards permitted him entry, but he wasn't complaining. It was more or less a straight shot down the corridor he entered to get to Voldemort's door. It clicked shut behind him softly, and that really should've been a giant red flag waved right in his face because a moment later his sixth sense for danger screamed at him.
Slowly, he turned around, to come face to face with the behemoth of a magical python that was Voldemort's familiar.
"You should not be here, foolish boy." Nagini hissed and swayed dangerously.
"I'm not here with the intent to hurt." Harry slipped into parseltoungue easily, raising his hands in defence. He winced when the bag of Lucky Charms fell to the floor.
"You are a speaker?" She brought her body under her in coils, letting her head peak out over the top with her tongue flicking out to scent the air. "You even smell like Master. You say you wish him no harm?"
"I smell like him?" Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. Surely it wasn't anything important? He made a mental note of it anyway, something to look into later. "Anyway, not the point. I'm not here for an assassination attempt, I just want to stick these," he reached down to pick up the cereal bag, "on his head. Hell, I'll even give you some of the marshmallows as long as you don't try to eat me."
Nagini seemed to deliberate for a moment, her head rising once more and tongue flicking out again, before she settled fully onto the floor. "This is agreeable to me, speaker. But I am watching you. You shall not harm my master or I will make you into my next meal." Harry gulped.
"Yes ma'am." And with that, he got to work.
It didn't take him much longer than an hour to cover the blank canvas in front of him with the Lucky Charms, and he spent it quietly hissing back and forth with Nagini while he packed as much on with glue as he possibly could. Only, it seemed he had screwed up the dosage of the dreamless sleep. Because when he was emptying out what was left onto the floor for Nagini to eat, the body on the bed started to stir.
"Nagini? What-" Voldemort sat up, made direct eye contact with Harry Potter who was bribing his snake, and the both of them froze.
"Shit." Harry stood there for a moment longer before hitting the nearest window with a wandless Bombarda and throwing himself out. Voldemort was quick to scramble for his wand and throw a barrage of spells at the boy as he ran across the grass.
"I don't care how long it takes Potter, you're DEAD!" Voldemort's anger was only fueled by the smell of the processed muggle food that remained stuck to his head.
Harry Potter ran across the gardens of Malfoy Manor, with his name being cursed to high heaven and his laughter carrying on the wind.
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Strike three.
This time, Voldemort did not forget.
No, in fact, this time he put aside whatever plans he had previously and put all his men to finding that idiot Potter. How dare he humiliate him in this way? And how dare he walk around the wizarding world as if he hadn't done anything? Nagini had proven useless. His great and powerful familiar, so easily bribed. It was time for him to take revenge into his own hands.
Which was what had brought him to this point.
Bellatrix had stormed into his study, raving about something but talking far too quickly for him to be able to make out the words. She was starting to get on his last nerve as a whole, if he allowed himself a moment of honesty.
"Bellatrix, you will speak at a normal speed and you will speak clearly, or so help me I will inflict levels of pain upon you that cannot be put into words." He snapped; she paused to bow deeply and apologise profusely before she opened her mouth again.
"Potter has been sighted in Diagon Alley, My Lord." Her nose was almost touching the floor as she lapsed into silence, no doubt awaiting his orders.
Voldemort took a deep breath. "I see. I do not require your assistance, I shall be leaving now." His voice sounded robotic, even to his own ears. But he stood, leaving Bellatrix where she was, and walked his way out of the property. The moment his foot was across the ward line, he apparated to a place he hadn't been since he was a young adult stuck in a dead end job.
Diagon Alley was as busy as he remembered it being back when he was but an eleven year old boy on his way to Ollivanders.
Naturally, the crowd quickly dispersed once Voldemort walked out of the entrance. Women, children and men alike, they all ran screaming in fear. It was times like these that he grew tired of being feared, if only because of the hassle it caused for him.
The door to the Apothecary further down slammed open, the bell no doubt breaking with the force of it, and out ran the person he'd been looking for.
"The one time I decide to pick up the restock for the ingredients cupboard myself, just my luck." Potter groaned, sliding his wand from it's holster and widening his stance. Spells started flying quickly after that.
"You-" Voldemort advanced, forcing Potter to go on the defence and move backwards down the cobbles. "dirty, imbecilic, disgrace to the name of wizard!" He was vaguely aware that he'd slipped into parseltongue towards the end, he just happened to not care. "How dare you have the nerve to show your face in public!"
"In my defence," Potter's wand movements were swift and he deflected every spell sent his way, "it's not my fault you didn't learn to check your tea after the first time."
"You bribed my familiar!" The flashes of magic had gone from the blood red of a Crucio to the vivid green of an Avada Kedavra at the reminder of his snakes betrayal. From where he was standing, it really seemed like Potter had a death wish.
"Yeah, well," his head looked down a small side street before turning back to face Voldemort, "she was hungry." Potter's wand made the small arc commonly associated with an accio and then turned on him again.
Potter's shield dropped.
"Aeternus Gluten!" A thick, clear stream of something shot from the end of his wand and in Voldemort's shock, he forgot to dodge. He forgot to dodge. It hit his face, and it felt oddly like super glue. He was so busy trying to get it away from his eyes, that after he'd forgotten to dodge the spell, he didn't notice the pillow that had been ripped directly above his head.
Hippogriff feathers rained down upon him, sticking to the glue, and no doubt covered him entirely.
Voldemort took a very deep, very 'calming', breath and set his sights on Potter. Who looked mortified at what he'd done, and yet that did not stop him from having to stifle his laughter.
"Really." Voldemort's deadpan seemed to be the proverbial straw that broke the camels back, because Potter was positively cackling with laughter before he apparated away in a hurry.
Mark his words, he would have his revenge on that insolent brat.
───── ⋆⋅𓂁𓂄⋅⋆ ─────
Strike four.
He'd had it. He'd genuinely had it with Potter. Three times he's managed to 'bedazzle' his head and embarrass him, three times he has gone unpunished because he's far too slippery.
Each time Potter had been seen in the weeks following Diagon Alley, he disappeared before Voldemort could get his hands on him. And it wasn't as if he was an easy man to track down to begin with. He kept slipping away to hole himself up in that damn castle, no doubt planning another attack.
How was a potions professor giving him this much trouble? Severus wasn't that difficult, he was even loyal, what brand of mischief was in Potter's veins? Was it because he was a Gryffindor?
Voldemort had learned from the third time, however, and went to hole himself up in an abandoned office in the ministry. There was no way Potter would be able to get to him without someone being alerted, but it's a pity it meant his only point of contact with his followers was Lucius.
He continued like that for weeks, and it was on his seventh week in the ministry that exhaustion had actually caught up with him. He'd been checking everything he was served for any signs of tampering, so surely he would be fine now. He fell asleep in his chair, fully believing nothing could get him here.
Unfortunately for Voldemort, Harry Potter had mastered the art of getting into places he really shouldn't at quite a young age.
Harry opened the door, only wide enough for him to shimmy through, and left it slightly ajar. He wasn't quite sure why he kept doing this, call it Fred and George finally rubbing off on him or a recently found rebellious streak, but he'd got it down to an art by now. Maybe it was his inner Slytherin influencing his Gryffindor impulsiveness as well, considering what he did to get into this office.
("Potter, I am not sneaking you into The Dark Lord's office so you can stick tacky muggle decorations to his head! Has Snape's tutoring finally driven you to insanity?!"
"Y'know, it just might've done. But that's not the point! You're the only person I know with a ministry job that could possibly help me find where he's secluded himself to, you have to help me Malfoy."
"Absolutely not! Stop asking me for favours as if we're friends, and as if I'm not marked!"
"Oh? And I was under the impression you didn't want the outcome of the last staff night out becoming public, a true shame."
"...Potter are you blackmailing me?"
"Maybe."
"Alright, fine. Fine! Keep my stupid drunken mistake out of Witch weekly and I'll get you in there." Though under his breath Draco added- "Merlin, I hope he kills you so I don't have to feed you to one of Longbottom's plants myself.")
Harry had to be very careful this time, he hadn't slipped Voldemort anything and if he got caught again he was absolutely fucked. This had to be done with as minimal magic as possible, it's why he'd decided to do this the old fashioned way. With a tube of super glue and a pack of plastic rainbow gems he got from a Hobbycraft store. Harry was starting to feel a bit like a primary school teacher trying to do a crafts session, if he was being honest. And the cashier had started to give him weird looks. He wasn't going to dwell on it though, because he had work to do.
In a little under an hour, Harry had finished what he came to do and slipped back out before Voldemort even stirred.
Let's just say, when he did wake up and felt the bumps on his head, the entire Ministry heard about it.
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Strike five.
Voldemort had finally found a way into Hogwarts.
One might think he'd use the discovery of a passage that led from inside The Forbidden Forest to The Chamber of Secrets to take over the school. The impenetrable fortress was finally within his reach, why wouldn't he take it?
Well, obviously, it's because Voldemort had unfinished business.
It was easier than he had thought it would be to just throw a very strong Notice Me Not charm over himself and walk the corridors from the second floor girl's bathroom down to the dungeons. He'd forgotten how relaxing it was to just wander the corridors after curfew. The almost ancient magic in the walls of the school brushed up against his own, moonlight filtering in through the windows and illuminating everything in an ethereal glow.
Such a nostalgic place for him, the first place he had felt was truly his home. Likely the only place he would ever feel fully comfortable, as well.
But he wasn't here to dwell on the past, he was here for a little chat with someone down in the dungeons.
Professor Potter's doors were always open to those who needed him, no matter what time of the night it was. It didn't bother him when students came knocking at eight at night or three in the morning, between grading papers and the increasingly frequent visions from Voldemort, it wasn't as if he was getting much sleep either way.
It's why he didn't bat an eye when a knock echoed in his office at precisely midnight.
"Come in." Harry called from where he was at his desk; he looked up from the essay he was marking only once the door had shut, and froze. Not a word was spoken between them. Not until his guest had sat himself in the chair on the opposite side of the desk, his back to the door and his legs crossed one over the other.
"Potter." Voldemort's voice was even, and concerningly calm.
"Voldemort." Harry placed his quill down next to the ink well to his right and leant back in his own chair, arms crossed over his chest. "Colour me impressed, I didn't think you'd actually manage to get in here."
Voldemort watched him like a predator sizing up his prey. Harry wasn't quite ready to delve into how that made him feel, unpacking all of that would take too long.
"You will tell me how you keep breaking through my wards. They're impeccable, I know that for a fact." Blood red eyes kept contact with killing curse green; they both knew Voldemort wouldn't be able to get through Harry's Occlumency shield. He'd gotten better at it since his abysmal lessons with Snape in fifth year, even if that didn't stop the visions completely.
"Cocky much?" Harry sighed and ran a hand through the mop on his head that he called hair. "Look, if I knew I probably still wouldn't tell you. But the thing is I don't know."
Voldemort was out of the chair and slammed his hands down on the desk in the blink of an eye. "I don't care if you're the best potions master of your generation, the boy who lived, or the reincarnate of Merlin himself, you had better not start pulling this bullshit now." Harry wondered if he was aware he switched into parseltoungue when he was angry.
"I'm not pulling anything, I genuinely don't know!" That was apparently the wrong thing to say.
"Liar!" Voldemort hissed, then grabbed a fistful of Harry's shirt. He was pulled out of his chair and nose to nose with Voldemort. (Nose to nostrils? Nose to slits? He wasn't quite sure how else to describe how close he was getting to a man without a nose.) That shocked them both. Because not a moment later a jolt of something went straight through Harry, spreading out from his scar, and made him let out the most undignified yelp that he would deny ever happened if somebody were to find out about this.
Voldemort dropped him as if he were on fire.
Both of them were breathing rather heavily, yet no other noise was made as they stared at each other. Not for a long time, not until Harry's nerves and breathing had calmed.
"You're a parselmouth." Voldemort hissed, though softer this time, and looked at Harry as if he had never seen the man in front of him before.
"Yes." Harry replied. "I would've thought you already knew, considering the majority of the wizarding world found out when I was in second year."
"You would assume so, but apparently not." He was still stood looking down at Harry. "You would also assume," he had switched back to English now, "that at least one of us would be made aware of your status as my Horcrux."
Harry blinked rapidly.
"What?" He didn't have anymore time to ask questions though, because movement of a silvery blue body floating through his roof caught his eye. "Peeves don't you-!" But he was too late.
Because before Harry could even reach for his wand, the poltergeist had dumped a jar full of glitter all over Voldemort.
"Moldy Voldy is in the castle! What a wicked man he is, torturing poor Professor Potty!" He screamed and then flew back the way he came, his shouts bounced off the walls of the corridor in the otherwise peaceful night. The two men in the office were left frozen in his wake, one in horror and the other in disbelief at the pink microplastics that covered him from head to toe.
"I always did hate that ghost." Voldemort took a deep breath, turned on the spot and went to open the door. "Good day, Potter." He left back the way he came, and Harry sat in his chair like an idiot while his brain tried to play catch up. He was quick to scramble out of his chair and run out into the corridor after him once it did.
"Wait Voldemort you can't just tell me that and leave! Get back here!"
───── ⋆⋅𓂁𓂄⋅⋆ ─────
Voldemort's revenge.
If any of Harry's friends knew about his very, very unlikely treaty with He Who Must Not Be Named he had no doubt they'd call him mad and check him into St Mungo's. Because that was just the type of people they were, ones that cared and had strict moral values.
Harry Potter on the other hand? His had become a tad more flexible as he aged.
This was, of course, in part because of the treaty and also in part because of the revelations his few months of boredom had brought with them. Voldemort hadn't been as willing to part with his goals, but he had considerably toned down his methods. A quiet political takeover, instead of breaking down walls with wands blazing. He would still have the power he sought and Harry wouldn't harm the Horcrux that was apparently in his scar.
What an odd place for a piece of soul to reside. But alas, beggars could not be choosers and he was certainly happy the attempts on his life had ceased so he could carry on being just Harry.
"I thought I told you that just because you were able to get into my home, did not mean you were entitled to the contents of my kitchen."
Harry was broken out of his musings as he was caught red handed sat on the counter, or should he say pink handed? He swallowed what was in his mouth before he spoke. "I was hungry and I know you keep strawberry cupcakes in the cupboard for me because you hate strawberries and anything strawberry flavoured."
Voldemort sighed, massaging his temples on his unnaturally smooth head, and moved across the kitchen to put the kettle on.
"Only because you have a horrible habit of breaking and entering." He reached into the cupboard to grab the box of teabags and the bag of sugar, placing them on the counter and moving again to get the milk from the fridge. "Could you grab a couple mugs? Cupboard to your left."
"Oh I get tea now, do I? You spoil me." Harry placed his cake down on the counter, hopped down to the floor so he'd be able to reach properly, and opened the door. Voldemort asking him to do something in his kitchen really should've tipped him off that something foul was about to happen to him. But it didn't.
Harry promptly screamed, as a paint can that was placed atop of the door tipped and poured its contents all over him.
"Revenge is sweet, Harry." Voldemort took a wide berth to avoid the splatter of colour all over his floor; he grabbed the mugs himself and set to making them both a cup of tea. Harry took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes.
He really should've seen that coming.