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Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was always the last shop to shut on the top end of Diagon Alley. Molly didn't understand why they insisted on keeping it open so late, it was only getting more and more dangerous down there once the sun set. But Fred and George insisted it was good for business. Did she know how many kids snuck out at night to buy prank products their parents wouldn't let them have? No, of course they weren't speaking from experience. They would never do such a thing to their lovely mother!
So when shops like Flourish and Blotts, Ollivanders and Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions shut at eight o'clock sharp, the twins were still powering through right up until they shut their doors at eleven o'clock at night. Prime real estate, those extra three hours. Never believe the kind of people they saw in there buying their products! Not that they'd ever outwardly judge their loyal customers, don't bite the hand that feeds you and all that.
Well, they wouldn't have thought of biting until one cold Friday night in March at least.
"Fred are you counting the money down there?" George shouted from above where he was leaning over the second floor railing.
"'Course I am, it's what you asked me to do ain't it?" Fred was mumbling numbers under his breath, the coins clinking being the only other noise down at the counter.
"Well yes I did," he stood back up straight and began making his way down the stairs, "but you see, when I told you to do that yesterday I looked over and you were gone."
"Well, dear brother," Fred carried out the last syllable, "that was because I'd had an idea. Can't stop genius once the ball gets rolling." He leveled George with an amusedly exasperated look; he had come to lean on the opposite side of the counter.
They were interrupted from that particular line of conversation by the bell to the door ringing, which was odd really, because they had both triple checked it was locked before they started closing down for the night. Nonetheless, they stood up straighter and plastered on their customer service faces.
"I'm sorry to inform you-" Fred began.
"But we do happen to be-" George continued as he turned to face the door and move out of his twins direct line of sight.
"Closed for the-" They stiffened visibly, the sentence they were finishing almost caught in their throats because there, in their doorway, stood somebody they never wanted to come face to face with. "-night." It made for quite a tense atmosphere, you could probably hear a pin drop in their shop.
Voldemort himself stood, looking so out of place and yet perfectly poised, just on the inside of their shop. He watched the two self proclaimed mischief makers that owned the building, and they watched him back. It was quite standoffish, though he knew that it couldn't be helped.
"I do not wish to-" Voldemort was promptly cut off by the spells that were sent flying at him. They were easily deflected, of course, but there were several in the mix that he had never seen the likes of before. Had they created them themselves?
Not something he currently had time to dwell on, he supposed. It took him longer than he'd care to admit, but Voldemort eventually disarmed them. The two were quite good duelists. It was almost a waste that their skills had been put to prank products. Almost.
"If you would be so kind as to let me finish my own sentence," sarcasm oozed from his voice, "I do not wish to harm you. I am merely here to buy some products." Voldemort held the twin's wands in his nondominant hand, twirling them around as he contemplated them.
"Ah, of course." One began.
"Doesn't wish to harm us, you hear that Gred?" The other continued.
"Right I do, Forge. Though I personally find it hard to believe-"
"Condsidering You-Know-Who is holding both our wands? I was just thinking the same thing." Were they going to keep switching back and forth for every sentence?
Voldemort used his own wand to create a noise close to a few throw snaps going off; it worked well enough to get them to shut up. "I wasn't aware disarming somebody in self defence was considered a war declaration." There was another moment of tense quiet.
"Does have a point, I guess." Fred (or George, he wasn't quite sure) spoke quietly.
George (though he could've been Fred) looked at his brother like he'd gone mad. "Did I just hear you say Mr Dark Lord himself has a point? Have you gone round the bend?"
They bickered back and forth a bit, something that only served to test his patience. And it wasn't long before he had enough.
"You are members of the Weasley family, yes?" Voldemort rubbed at his temple in hopes it would ease the headache he could feel creeping up on him. At the dumbfounded look the twins gave him, he scowled. "Your family take care of Harry Potter and I have worked some sort of," he deliberated over his next words very carefully, "agreement with him, shall we say. I'm not going to hurt you ,nor your family, because he would be none too pleased with me if I did. Simple enough?"
He felt like he was talking to children.
He genuinely felt like he was talking to the children he used to watch over in the orphanage. This is why he never had children of his own.
"Alright," the one on the left said as they both crossed their arms, "prove it."
The right man nodded in agreement. "Swear an Unbreakable."
"Hell would sooner freeze over." Voldemort was quick to shut that down. He wasn't gambling on whether an Unbreakable Vow would take him, regardless of the Horcruxes. "A compromise, perhaps? I'm not willing to swear an Unbreakable, but I wouldn't be opposed to an oath on my magic." Both men now shared a long look, and if Voldemort allowed himself an honest thought he'd say he felt rather stupid watching the exchange in silence.
"Sounds reasonable enough, would you say Georgie?"
"Suppose it does, Fred."
Voldemort sighed, threw Fred and George's wands back to them, and held up his own in front of him.
"I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, solemnly swear on my magic that I shall not cause physical harm to Fred Gideon Weasley nor George Fabien Weasley for as long as I am in their shop. So mote it be." The yew wand flared with a golden light, sealing his promise. Once it had faded he slipped it back into his wand holster.
"Your real name is Tom?" Fred (Voldemort was now very sure which was which) said incredulously.
"Now I get the name change, can't imagine trying to be an all powerful and feared Dark Lord would be a viable career for someone whose name is Tom." George snickered.
"You're pushing your luck." If Voldemort had an eyebrow to raise, it would be halfway to the ceiling. But nonetheless, he had sworn an oath. They didn't need to know that he'd worded it perfectly so that, should worst come to worst, all he'd need to do is step outside the property to be able to rain hell upon them.
"Alright then," Fred moved back behind the counter, "what can we do for you?"
"Yes, tell us how we can be of use to achieving your goal, my most esteemed Dark Lord-liness." George mock bowed in a way that was quite similar to how his death eaters typically did. All he needed to do was take four steps backward and out the door. Four steps and he'd be able to set him straight and-
No. Bad idea. Do not hurt Harry's friends.
Voldemort sighed and moved further into the shop, his eyes roamed over some of the displays as he did. The products were quite ingenious, he had to admit. They made Zonko's pale in comparison. It was almost a shame to admit to that, he'd quite admired the shops inventions when he was allowed into Hogsmeade as a boy. But they had nothing on the variety here, not anymore.
"I'm looking for something that could be slipped into food or drink. Harry-" Voldemort cleared his throat and pretended not to notice the look the twins shared at his use of the name. "Potter," he emphasised, "changed all the leaves in my teabags for mandrake leaves, and I don't have anything on hand for an appropriate payback."
Merlin, Voldemort really hated that the two men kept giving eachother looks. If he didn't know any better he'd say they were Legilimens that took joy in reading eachothers minds to have private conversations. Well, he didn't know any better, but he was quite sure they weren't as they started whispering to eachother over the counter. The fact that he couldn't hear them from where he stood was increasingly annoying, especially when they paused to both turn to look at him before continuing their whispers.
All in all, it only took a couple minutes before they straightened themselves out again.
"Well, Mr Dark Lord Sir, you see the thing is-" George began.
"That Harrykins is the one that invested the money needed to start this shop-" Fred picked up the sentence.
"So he's well acquainted with the products we have."
"Gets them all free of charge, actually."
"As a thanks for his contribution."
They were back to switching back and forth to finish eachothers sentences, it was relatively alarming how quickly Voldemort was getting used to that.
"However," Fred now leant his elbows on the counter, gesturing with his hands as he continued, "I happened to be working on something new. So obviously he doesn't know about it yet, but the thing is-"
"It's not quite finished."
"But we were thinking, if you could help me work out the kinks in the formula I've got written down, we could run you a discount?"
"And maybe work out a deal should you want to become a frequent customer, or maybe an outside contractor." George added as he had now moved to mirror his brother's stance; both looked at him with a bit of apprehension.
Voldemort mulled it over for a moment. He could certainly see the benefits in becoming a quiet contractor. Especially if he was able to get their input on a few things, considering he had one competent potions master and the rest of his death eaters were largely idiots that lowered the collective IQ of wizards by simply existing.
"A contract can certainly be drawn up, but I do tend to lean towards what are now outlawed as darker magical methods."
"Nothing that involves death of any person or protected magical creature." They said that at the same time and with such conviction that any doubts Voldemort had about them were expelled quite quickly. He could respect people that stuck to their personal values.
"Of course." Voldemort walked closer to the two that had now turned around and began gathering a few bits of paper that appeared to be product design sheets. "Now, lead the way and I'll see what I can do."
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Voldemort returned to his home, a spacious two bedroom flat in the heart of London that muggles no longer knew existed due to the powerful muggle repelling wards he'd put into the walls of the property, in the early hours of the morning.
He'd spent all night running through changes and improvements to their product, and had drawn up a contract that was agreeable to himself and Fred and George. They could turn out to be quite powerful allies, it was a pity their morals weren't more flexible. They would've made wonderful members of his inner circle, perhaps in another life. But they'd finished their work, confirmed it was safe for human consumption, figured out a good price range, and he'd left them to finalise the packaging design as it was not his area of expertise.
"I'm home." He called out, placing his travelling cloak on its hook and moving further down the corridor. Voldemort was expecting a shout from Harry, likely coming from the living room or kitchen, but was surprised to hear nothing. Harry had slowly but surely moved into his flat over the course of the past couple of months. He'd mentioned at some point that he preffered staying here when he wasn't needed at Hogwarts. Something about his Godfather frequently forgetting to use silencing spells? If he remembered correctly. Harry must not have come back for the weekend yet then.
Which was fine by him. An empty home only meant he had time to carry out his plan accordingly.
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Harry was exhausted.
He was drowning in essays he needed to mark, two students had blown up his classroom yesterday by being idiots, and he'd been stuck trying to clean the mess until well into Saturday morning. The longer he had this job, the more he understood why Snape acted like he had a stick up his arse all the time. Why do kids never listen? Maybe he should send Snape an apology gift basket.
Either way, he was happy to get home where he could collapse onto the concerningly comfortable sofa and enter a blissful state of doing absolutely fuck all.
"Children are stupid and I need gift ideas for Snape." Harry called out in place of a normal greeting and quickly placed his cloak on a hook before moving to the door on the right. He promptly threw himself face first on the sofa and melted into the cucushions.
"Basilisk venom wouldn't go amiss, any particular reason you're giving Severus a gift in the middle of March?" Voldemort was sat in his armchair, reading the prophet and sipping tea from a cauldron shaped novelty mug that almost definitely belonged to Harry.
"I suddenly feel very bad for him having to deal with teaching me, and every other child to ever enter his classroom."
"Rough end to the week then, I take it?" Voldemort peered at him from over the paper.
Harry groaned, sitting up and running a hand over his face. "You have no idea." He paused, an idea suddenly coming to him. "No chance I could ask you to grab me a cake and a cup of coffee for me pretty please? You know, because I've had suuuch a shitty day and I don't want to move from your very comfortable sofa."
Voldemort stared at him, sighed, and grumbled as he put his drink and the paper down to go into the kitchen. Harry had a little internal celebration; being lazy was great. He returned about five minutes later with a mug and a plate with what he knew to be the last cupcake.
Harry took them from him when offered, placing the mug on the coffee table and partially peeling the wrapper from the side. "Thank you Vee."
Voldemort hummed in acknowledgement as he sat back down and picked up his mug once more. Harry didn't notice him watching intently as he took his first bite of the cake, chewing slowly as a familiar feeling sank in his gut. He looked at the cake; something tasted... off about it. But it tasted off in a way that was incredibly familiar to him.
"You've done something to this." It was a statement, not a question.
"Perhaps." Voldemort admitted. He watched with unconcealed amusement as Harry's skin gradually turned neon blue, the change began peaking out from under his shirt and spreading across his body. Harry himself didn't notice it until it had spread down his hands, by which point he sighed in defeat and accepted his fate.
"How did you get your hands on a Weasley product?" Voldemort took a deliberately slow sip of his tea.
"I worked out a deal with them, they're quite smart don't you think?" Harry groaned. That little alliance could spell trouble for his remaining sanity. "Don't fuck with my tea, Harry. Or next time I won't just make you look like a Smurf."
"Yeah, yeah, duly noted. Is there an antidote for it or am I just stuck like this for a few hours?"
"None as of yet, it's still a work in progress."
In that moment, Harry really wished he hadn't helped the twins as much as he had. If only so their products weren't being used against him.