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Chapter Text

Harry woke up with a loud thud and a groan, leaping up with a wildly beating heart. “Did I just– yep ”

Harry, indeed, had just fallen from the bed. But–wait a minute?! The gigantic light blue bed with its white ornately carved bedposts was definitely not his dorm bed! The rest of the room was held in similar tones and furnished equally expensive.

A pompous squawk made him look towards the desk where a white peacock just landed and was now strutting around, likely expecting compliments for its looks or something. It made indignant noises when Harry just stared at it bewildered.

“Where the hell am I?” he wondered aloud, scared of the answer. This all sounded like a certain spoiled blonde but that…maybe he had died and this was hell? 

A crack behind him made him startle around. The house elf, clad in a pillowcase, bowed to him before asking if he wanted something to eat. Harry, however, just bombarded her with questions.

“Where am I? Why am I here? How did I get here? How long was I asleep for?”

The house elf blinked owlishly up at him. “We is in Malfoy Manor, Master Harry. You’se slept for an day.”

“MALFOY MANOR?!”

The peacock, now thoroughly offended, flew away with a loud, angry screech but Harry really couldn’t care less at the moment. Not that he would care more at any other moment, mind you. It was a Malfoy bird, after all.

This is hell , Harry thought miserably and let himself fall onto the too soft bed.

Overwhelmed, the house elf popped away to ask his master for further instructions.

He groaned and closed his eyes. Maybe it was the combination of that Cruciatus and the rest of the graveyard-trauma. Or being ignored while having to stay at the Dursleys. Or being bullied and not believed about Voldemort. Or Umbridge’s torture-sessions. Or Dumbledore ignoring him. Or, he thought, maybe it was the combination of everything that made him finally lose his mind. Maybe even hitting his head too often in the cupboard. Damn, he really had been dealt a shitty hand in life, hadn’t he?

His musings were interrupted by another crack and Harry, thinking the house elf was back, just said, “I want treacle tart. Please.” Because, if he was already dead, why not spend it eating his favourite food? Wait! No no no no, it would still taste good, wouldn’t it?!

“I’m afraid, it’s just a normal English Breakfast, Harry.” Came the very not house elf like response in a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

Knowing that voice–it starred in his nightmares–Harry jumped upwards, fumbled for his wand and panicked when he came up empty.

“Snake-face! A breakfast-serving snake-face!”

Not even in hell could he be left alone by him. Harry gaped, mouth open. Voldemort’s lipless-lips first twitched in displeasure before widening, red eyes shining with mirth. He waved his free hand. Harry started to wave back–he had manners, okay?--but felt something weird in his mouth…buzzing?! He opened his mouth wider and tried to get it out with his fingers; A fly. How did it get inside his mouth? When he looked up, he saw Voldemort’s shoulders shake in quiet laughter and Harry remembered the wave of his hand. The git!

“You!”

“Well, what’s the saying? A closed mouth catches no flies?”

Harry opened his mouth to retort but when the other wizard raised a hairless brow in warning, thought better of it. Instead, he eyed the breakfast sulkily. 

“I still want treacle tard.”

“Sucks.”

Harry opened his mouth in shock at the unlord-y response and promptly sputtered as he caught another fly. “Argh!!”

“What am I even doing here? Don’t you want to kill me?! And why Malfoy Manor of all possible places?!”

“Because I like luxury. And also, scaring Malfoys is quite fun. As for the matter of you, no, I do not wish to kill you anymore. You will remain here with me where Dumbledore cannot get his wrinkly hands on you. I advise you to behave though. Here is your wand, but keep in mind that I made sure to put a number of spells on you that will make an escape impossible.”
Voldemort gave Harry his wand after putting the tray on the desk.

“Eat your breakfast, you are much too skinny. When you have finished, you will get dressed and come see me in my office. I was so free as to acquire you a wardrobe. What I have seen of your own clothes…” He looked Harry up and down in clear displeasure. “Will not suffice.” 

Without giving Harry time to answer, he apparated away.

“Dickhead.”

Harry may not understand what Voldemort suddenly wanted him alive for, but he bloody sure would not make it easy for him–to the contrary, Harry would make it his problem! Harry felt like letting off some steam after the year( or years, actually) he’s had, anyway. Maybe he could get back at Dumbledore with this too?

With a dark chuckle, Harry sat down at his desk to eat the still steaming breakfast. This would be fun, he’d make sure of it.

Chapter Text

After Harry had eaten his breakfast, he walked over to the ornately carved closet. Scrunching his brows, Harry leaned closer. Were those..? Of course there were peacocks carved into the wood! He wasn’t even surprised. Did all of Voldemort’s followers have some kind of fanaticism with an animal? The man himself was obviously obsessed with snakes. Harry wondered what Snape’s must be; probably something greasy, just like the git himself.

Smiling to himself, he opened the wardrobe. And immediately closed it again. Nope. 

With a pitiful sign, he opened it again. All the clothes were in Slytherin colours. Harry went through them but not a single garment was differently colored than green and silver. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that it matched his eyes perfectly. He shuddered just thinking about exactly how the snake-face had found out.

Shaking himself, he tried to form a plan. Harry didn’t want to find out what would happen if he tried to run away, he fully believed He-who-did-not-have-a-nose about the spells. That, and he liked the thought of Dumbledore panicking with his Flaming-Chicken-Order (sorry Fawkes). A little guilt tried to wriggle itself in, about his friends and Sirius worrying, but he batted it away like a fly. They had left him with the Dursleys every summer, they could surely take this. Besides, up until now? It looked like his stay at Peacock Manor would be miles better. He woke up in a fluffy bed, had clothes just for him and had even gotten a delicious breakfast! The only problem was those bloody colours but that could be fixed.

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The visit to Voldemort’s office had been boring. It was decorated in green, silver and black. Whereas the rest of the Manor was held in peacock worship, his room catered to his beloved snakes. And skulls. It was seriously concerning and when he had said exactly that, he had been silenced. The nerve! He’d spent the rest of his time there sulkily staring at the ceiling with his arms crossed, while the self-proclaimed DaRk LoRd had given him a speech about what he should and should not do and what was expected of him. Harry had tuned him out.  

He had been forced to study in the library until afternoon, the only break had been for lunch where he, again, did not get any treacle tart! It was unbelievable…

Now he was searching for Voldemort’s familiar. After wandering for over an hour and getting lost in the maze of hallways about a dozen times, he finally found her. Nagini was curled up in front of a fireplace. When she sensed Harry approaching, tongue flicking in and out of her mouth to taste the air, she looked up and unfurled. 

“Er, Hello Nagini…”

Harry was unsure if it was safe to approach the venomous snake.

“Did Master ssend you for petss? Pet me!”

Blinking a few times in surprise, Harry neared the snake to do exactly that. Her scales felt smooth and they were warm from the fire. It was surprisingly nice. He kept petting her for a long time, having sat down on the armchair she had been occupying, Nagini curled up on his lap. The repetitive action was quite therapeutic and meditative, it calmed him.

When a tempus charm revealed that it was time to act on the plan that had led him to the familiar in the first place, he asked her, “Nagini? What do you think of the Malfoyss?”

“Hm? Tasty peacocks!"

“Er, I meant the humanss. Do you want to sscare them with me?”

“Make sscream? Like Master doess?”

“Yess!”

“Can Nagini eat? Master always says no…”

Nagini pouted sadly, or as much as a snake could.

“No…No Nagini, only sscream, no hurt. I will even carry you!”

“Okay..and I want more petss tomorrow. And mice.”

Nagini wrapped around the skinny boy and together they walked back into the hallway. The snake was heavy but the walk wasn’t too long; he had been lucky to find her so close to his target.

When they entered the Malfoy’s private wing, Harry looked around nervously. He hoped the two blondes were currently eating their dinner in the dining room, otherwise his plan would fail.

He proceeded with caution but did not meet anyone. Having reached their destination, he slowly lowered Nagini onto the bed after lifting the covers slightly.

“Peacock bed?”

“Yess, you will hide under the coverss and sscare them when they don’t expect it!”

“Nagini will ssleep. Warm.”

Or that, Harry thought. The snake curled up under the covers and Harry put them neatly back into place and hid in an alcove in the hallway.

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!”

Twin screams of terror woke him up from sleep; he hadn’t even noticed he’d fallen asleep. Harry jumped up, immediately in fight or fight mode, before remembering that it was he who had caused it. Oops. At least he’d been successful! 

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After petting Nagini the next day and listening to her complaints about wanting a heated rock to sleep on, Harry had another fun idea. Voldemort was some kind of snake, wasn’t he? Surely he would like his own heated rock? The image of Voldemort curling up on one made Harry chuckle. It was time to repay the man. Harry wasn’t selfish after all and not the sort of person that only took and never gave anything back.

What would Hermione say in such a situation? Off to the library! He had a spell to learn.

After a grueling 2 hours of searching for the right spell and then learning said spell, he was finally ready. His only problem? The man had probably all sorts of dangerous wards on his door. Harry wondered if whatever he had put on Harry while he was unconscious would hold up against it.  

Just as he was about to grip the door handle, his new best friend showed up: Nagini!

“Ssss What iss Snakelet doing in front of Master’ss hole?”

“His..?” Did snakes live in holes? Harry shook his head before continuing. “I want to give him a surprise! Because he iss such a good master! Can you open the door for me?”

Nagini, now wriggling in excitement, opened the door for him. Walking through felt like wading through thick, resisting goo but he managed to enter the wizard’s room completely unscathed; a win.

“Nagini wantss to know the ssurprise! Tell me!”

“Okay okay, but it must remain a ssecret. It’ss a surprise after all.”

“Nagini knows what ssurprises are.”

So Harry told her. The snake was very pleased with his idea, she’d be able to share the rock.

After he had transfigured the dark green–who would have thought–bed, he admired his handiwork. In its place was now a big half-sphere that he had spelled with heating-charms. Oh, and it was also in Gryffindor-red. It really clashed with all the green and black decor–Harry loved it. To Nagini he explained that the red stood for prey and it would ensure nice dreams of successful hunts.

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On his way to the kitchens to finally demand some treacle tarts–he was starting to develop serious withdrawal symptoms–he heard the Malfoy Lord talking about a Death Eater meeting this evening.

With a full stomach of his favourite food, Harry made his way back to his room. He had some plotting for this evening to do. 

When he saw a peacock fight with a suit of armour, he got the perfect idea. Oooh, this was going to be good . Harry was almost giddy with anticipation.

______________

After a long day of paperwork and listening to Bellatrix ramble, Lord Voldemort now also had a meeting to hold. No one ever said being a Dark Lord was easy.

He was beneath sighing in front of his followers; he had an image to uphold, but the pounding headache did not make things any better. At least his plans were running smoothly. The reports he was receiving were almost all positive. In around half to an hour he could wrap this up and finally go to bed. Not wanting to delay was the only reason he was not throwing around as many curses as usual.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang and the double doors of the long room were blown away. And–and in flew one of Malfoy’s white peacocks. It was enlarged to the size of a horse and on top of it sat his Horcrux in full battle armour, brandishing a sword. 

It was pure chaos and pandemonium, Lord Voldemort could not bring his left eye to stop twitching as his followers screamed in terror and seemed to forget they possessed wands. Bellatrix threw herself on top of him and bellowed, “I WILL PROTECT YOU, MY LORD!!”

Meanwhile Harry was swinging his sword–wherever he got that from–and hunting Death Eaters. 

With a sigh, the Dark Lord regretted ever attacking the Potters and every other life choice that led him to this. At least it looked like the meeting was over now.

Chapter Text

After cleaning up after his little soulpiece, Lord Voldemort made his way to his bedroom to finally get some much deserved rest. He opened his door, let magic take off his robe and fold it, before changing into his sleeping clothes with another wave of his hand. He strode towards his comfortable and luxurious bed…his bed that–it wasn’t there? Confusedly he looked at the rock that stood in its place. Did he really want to know? 

“Nagini…?”

His familiar woke up with a yawn before seemingly having remembered something that made her perk up, tail wagging in excitement like some common mutt.

“Massster, Masssster! Doesss Massster like his sssurprissse? The young and Nagini exchanged that thing with our own heated rock! One you were against! But you like it, don’t you Massster? It’sss perfect!!”

Lord Voldemort’s eye was twitching again. It looked like his little Horcrux had been busy. If he had time for such shenanigans then he wasn’t studying as much as he should be. That brat would be busy tomorrow alright, Lord Voldemort thought darkly. The Dark Lord would not sink so low as to physically punish his Horcrux but luckily he remembered the Potions Master telling him about the boy’s dislike for studying. He would throw him out of bed at 5:30 and give him enough work to last him until late in the evening. He could always threaten with taking away wand-privileges. And the day after tomorrow was Saturday. Surely the Malfoys could make sure that their son was able to spend the weekends at the Manor instead of at Hogwarts? He could keep the brat company, teach him the pureblooded Slytherin ways, make sure he didn’t cause any more trouble and help him with his studies. 

Yes, Lord Voldemort thought as he transfigured his bed back to normal despite a protesting Nagini, that was a good plan. If that failed, he could still let Barty babysit. Though he’d rather have his loyal follower work on more useful things. Should he get some books on raising children?

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“Wake up little sunshine, it is morning!”

An explosion of very bright light made Harry groan. His eyeballs felt like they were melting! Just as he was trying to flee under his covers it got replaced by pebbles…what? Harry couldn’t even shield his eyes with his hands, there was some kind of magic around his head that made it impossible. Scrunching up his eyes helped little, his vision red. 

“I have left you some assignments in the library that I wish for you to get done. And I would heavily advise you to do so, for I will have to confiscate your wand should you fail this endeavor.”

“Bugger off!” was his only reply by the cranky teenage brat.

“I would similarly caution you to behave both in action and spoken word. I can and will take away more of your privileges, young man. Keep that in your mind. Now off to eat your breakfast and start working, Narcissa will be checking up on your progress.” With a soft crack Lord Voldemort left to start his work as well, the world did not change by doing nothing, after all. 

Harry groaned again, the bastard had left the blinding light on! When his eyes were finally used to it, he opened them. It was not even morning yet, the window showed the darkness of night! And considering his blanket was reduced to stones it would be near impossible for him to fall back asleep. 

A pop made him aware of the arrival of a house elf. It was the same one from his first day and Harry realised–with no small amount of shame–that he didn’t even ask for her name. With an apology that made the elf teary-eyed he rectified that; her name was Topsy. Sadly, she obeyed the reptile-man which meant he was forced to go eat his breakfast.

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Harry. Was. so. Bloody. DONE! These had been the worst (not really) days of his entire life! He had never studied so hard, ever. He doubted even Hermione had, and it was Hermione , for Merlin’s sake! He had sat in that Merlin forsaken library until the late evening. Narcissa had kept watch over him, still pissed about the Nagini incident–though of course she would never let any of that show, she was a “fine Lady of the highest pure-blood standing,” gag! With the threat of losing his precious holly wand Harry could not even refuse. He couldn’t even slack off, given that it was not the hours spent studying but the completion of assignments that was the wizards goal!

Thankfully, the old goat had let off of Harry after a few days. Now it was the weekend and his regular morning to afternoon classes resumed. His theoretical lessons had been joined by practical lessons against his teacher–an unknown Death Eater woman that was actually quite nice and competent–or practice dummies. And although he hated to admit it, he had already learned quite a lot in the little time he had been here. It made him angry and the bitter taste of betrayal was rooting itself deep inside of him. Had anyone ever, besides the Patronus by Professor Lupin in third year, ever bothered teaching him anything? There were only the DA meetings but why hadn’t Dumbledore, Sirius or anyone else ever bothered to make sure Harry could defend himself? Every year, without pause, he was thrown into life threatening danger and everyone knew it was only a matter of time until he would face Voldemort in battle. Had they really thought that they could prevent him from landing in danger? He was practically a magnet for it! Not once had anyone showed him spells and done practice duels with him. Not even his godfather and especially not Dumbledore. Somehow the man had always been away when Voldemort attacked the school. 

And even if Voldemort had never resurrected, there were still a lot of dark wizards with a grudge against the-boy-who-lifed and he was also a celebrity…

Ironically, it was now, as Voldemort’s captive, that he learned how to defend himself. He was taught things that he had never heard before but were just so useful! Like, for example, making sure the spells he strung together always ended in a way that he could immediately cast the next one without having to reposition his wand. That saved crucial time and the battle strategies he was learning…Hermione would be absolutely salivating .

Harry walked into the breakfast room–yes, the Malfays were the sort of people that owned breakfast rooms, ugh! – when he stopped in shock.

“What are YOU doing here?!” he shouted at the Malfoy–the youngest one; though he just clenched his cutlery and didn’t react further.

At a small table overlooking the well kept garden were sitting all three blondes with No-Nose at the head. The seat to his right was left free, Lucius Malfoy having the one across from it with his wife next to him. That left Harry between Voldemort and Malfoy–er, Draco. Harry realised that it would be rather confusing to refer to last names when the three were having the same one, at least when they were in the same room. With a pang he noticed that that particular problem was unfamiliar to him; he had been the last Potter as long as he could remember, apart from that one memory of his mother dying.

Reluctantly, Harry took his seat. The air was high with tension, the only one who seemed unaffected by it was Voldemort himself.

“Harry, Draco will be spending his weekends with you to help settle and guide you. I expect the two of you to get along and to not cause any trouble for me. Is that clear?” 

Draco stayed rigid and slightly shaking next to him. Just as Harry wanted to give his opinion on the matter, he was interrupted with a single word and a raised hairless brow. “Wand.”

Harry closed his mouth before nodding in displeasure. 

***

After their meal, Malfoy accompanied him to the library to join in his theoretical lessons. The blonde was stiffly polite and not able to be taunted out of it; likely cowed by the presence of his Lord.

During the practical portion of his day, they practiced spells against dummies. Harry’s mood had taken a hit upon learning that Malfoy knew these spells already.

When they finally had some free time, the git gave him a tour of the Manor. Harry had given up on insulting Malfoy; it was boring when the other didn’t react. So he asked him how things were at Hogwarts but the information on how his friends were faring was not very detailed given the source. Apparently, apart from his friends and the Death Eater children, everyone thought he had used the Hogsmeade weekend to run away to cause a scene with his disappearance and try to get people to believe in his false story of the return of You-Know-Who. 

Not having ventured into the gardens yet, Harry was surprised to learn that the Malfoys had more animals than just obnoxious white peacocks. No, there were white horses too! It was so cliché that he couldn’t suppress a snort–not that he had tried, to be honst.

Though, as they left the stables, Harry realised something. The dark wizard had just asked Harry not to cause any trouble to him . Surely, that didn’t include the Malfoys?

If Baby-Malfoy noticed the sudden spring in his step or the lifted mood, he did not comment on it. Harry had an idea, one the Malfoys definitely would not like. But first, he needed to recruit his new serpentine bestie.

***

Harry had successfully gotten rid of the ferret by pretending to need alone time in his room. At first the blonde had wanted to object, but when he saw Harry’s wobbling lower lip and the way he shifted away from him, he had relented. Damn, Harry thought, maybe the Sorting Hat had had a point when considering Slytherin for me.  

Now, speaking of ferret , Harry was currently in the git’s room to do some redecorating. The peacock carvings in his own had given him an idea. He had switched them to lions out of spite. Malfoy though? He was getting ferrets. Which was what he was doing right now with Nagini standing watch. 

Finished with the little undertaking, he had another goal, two actually. First, he had to sprint to the cellar to grab an empty wine bottle before leaving the house. When that was done and the bottle switched with the one already cooling for dinner, it was time for phase two. 

Since it was unlikely that Harry would be able to get rid of the snob again tomorrow, he had to do it all today. 

He hoped Voldemort wouldn’t notice and if he did, would not be annoyed enough to take away his wand. Even if he did, the prepared second part would only need parseltongue to work.

***

Harry was sitting in the richly decorated dining room, the same constellation as during breakfast. The food was something with lamb that he wouldn’t be able to pronounce but found admittedly tasty. A house elf–not Topsy, the Malfoys had ,of course, multiple–was serving the wine, Harry’s wine. Harry really hoped his expression didn’t give away the giddy–and maybe a bit sadistic? – excitement he was feeling. Though his fears were unfounded. After a bit of smalltalk the Dark Lord had not continued to pay him much attention. Good, Harry thought. 

He tried to watch the faces of the adults as closely as he inconspicuously could. 

Narcissa kept her poker face in tact, or did she like the taste? Surely not? The head of the family made a slight grimace and shakily said, “I-I apologize, My Lord. The wine–it must have been aged incorrectly. I apologize, my elf–it will bring a different one immediately.”

Harry could not read the sickly pale face. “It is indeed quite sour and dare I say salty?” 

The dark wizard looked over to Harry, as if sensing his gaze, who quickly looked at his plate.

“Harry?”

Harry gulped but was proud when his voice remained steady. “Yes?”

The corner of Voldemort’s lip twitched upwards for a brief second before his deformed face was once more schooled into neutrality.

“Would you like a taste? I expect you to be able to recognize a good wine from a bad one. This one can function as an unsatisfactory example.”

Harry grimaced. He really did not want to drink the horse piss he had put in the bottle. He had found the spell to extract it randomly during his grueling study hours the days before, not thinking he would ever have a use for it.

“I–Er, sir, I am not of age yet–,” he tried to talk his way out of it though Voldemort interrupted him.

“Nonsense, it will only be a sip. Do you think me so irresponsible as to let you get drunk? Besides, I must insist.”

Harry looked at the offered glass in discomfort, not moving to take it.

“I take it, this is not wine?” The Dark Lord asked.

Harry giggled nervously before breaking out in full laughter, he just couldn’t keep it in!

“It–you–ahahahah!”

Harry did not see Lucius Malfoy cast a diagnostic spell on the light yellow liquid; Harry had mixed it with Water to change the colour. His already pale and sweaty face turned even paler and he tried to apologize to his lord yet again, that his elves should have checked or–Voldemort silenced him with a raised hand.

“Harry,” he said calmly when the boy had calmed down.

“You have two options. Finish my glass of the drink you have concocted or, ” here the bastard made a short pause for effect, “lose your wand privileges for tomorrow. Your practical lessons will be replaced by theoretical ones. Your choice.”

Harry scowled; he liked neither option, shuddered at either one. But–the thought of being separated from his trusty holly wand filled him with immense dread. Bugger, Harry thought, I will just have to throw it up immediately after into a toilet or flower pot, ugh. The only comforting thought was the planned phase two, or the knowledge that the Malfoys would have the memory of Harry gulping down mouthfuls of piss would make him combust like a phoenix at the end of its life span. They wouldn’t feel so smug when the day was over, Harry thought darkly. With a shaky hand he grabbed the expensive looking wineglass, while making sure not to touch Voldemort’s ghostly fingers. He looked up into Voldemort’s eyes but the mirth dancing there meant he could not expect any mercy. He really did not want to drink the piss. But for the love of his beloved holly, Harry closed his eyes and gulped the bad tasting liquid down, gagging all the while. When he had finished, he felt drowsy and it was hard keeping it down. 

Just as he thought he won that fight, it all came up again. He had no tim to run to a toilet so he just turned to his right and–you get it. Malfoy, whose lap was being defiled, shrieked in horror, yet did not dare do anything. The-boy-who-lived was clearly very favourite by the Dark Lord if he could crash a meeting and the only consequence was studying and now , Potter had made him drink piss?! And THAT was the repercussion? Draco needed to befriend Potter as fast as possible. Even if the boy was…less than sane, among other things.

After Harry was finished, he left the table. Malfoy’s father had cleaned his son with his wand and they had resumed with dessert like nothing happened.

Lord Voldemort watched the little menace retreat with bemusement. He had been so obvious in his excitement, he had nearly been able to feel it himself. And when it came to a crescendo as the wine was poured? The Dark Lord had instantly known it had been tampered with and had wandlessly-wordlessly replaced it with actual white wine. Before giving it to Harry, he had naturally removed the alcohol. But of course the young boy hadn’t realised that it wasn’t actually what he dreaded it to be when drinking it, having no real experience. Lord Voldemort chuckled internally upon remembering the boy’s face. He would start making a collection of memories like these. 

Harry meanwhile was meeting up with Nagini to prepare for their plan. After dinner, Voldemort usually apparated away while the Malfoys preferred to walk to their respective bedrooms. Well, not after tonight.

The walk after dinner was drenched in awkward silence, all three of them too afraid to talk in fear of being overheard. It was not truly necessary, considering they were all thinking much of the same line: get on Potter’s good side.

Suddenly, they heard hissing. A lot of it. The three blondes came to a halt in fearful premonition. The older Malfoys shielded their son when a single, tiny snake rounded the corner. Then another. And another. There were hundreds of scaly serpents slithering their way. Just as they were about to turn around and run the other way, they started to hear more hissing from behind them . They weren’t only on the ground now, they were also floating! The hallway was flooded on all sides with snakes, probably over a thousand now, writhing masses resembling a massive wave about to crash over them. They screamed in terror and to their abject horror something was blocking their apparition ! So, they could only stand there, clinging to one another with their eyes closed and screaming, not daring to attack the Dark Lord’s favourite animals even in their own home.

Harry’s and Nagini’s laughter rang through the Manor as they enjoyed what was music to their ears after their–Harry’s–hours-long preparations, conjuring snakes with serpensortia. Ironically, Harry had learned that spell from Malfoy.

Chapter Text

Humming lightly, Harry was getting dressed for breakfast. The memories of the previous day were still fresh in his mind and it was already buzzing with new ideas. It was high time the teen enjoyed himself after so many years of misery and he was determined to make the most of it. Voldemort–for whatever strange reason– did not seem to want to hurt him anymore and Harry and his newfound Slytheriness were going to use that to his advantage.

His plotting got interrupted by a quiet tapping on the window. Seeing the fly trying to force its way through the window and remembering how Snakey had conjured them into his mouth repeatedly on his first day here, Harry knew now how to pay him back. He transfigured one of yesterday's pebbles (his previous bed covers) into a jar and captured the insect within it. Perfect, he thought. Next he made sure to make a tiny hole into the lid so the fly would survive. The boy put the glass into his pocket and made his way towards the breakfast room. 

After an hour of uncomfortable small talk, he walked to the library to begin his one hour of independent study before his teacher arrived. After yesterday's events, he had expected the Malfoys to be absolutely seething , quietly of course but still. Yet, they had been achingly nice ?! Did they plan their own revenge? Harry didn’t trust their unexplainable behaviour. Draco was a step away from literally vibrating next to him, complimenting and trying to be helpful. It was just so bizarre. When the blonde git refused to leave his side for even one meter, he had enough. He had a lot of spells to research for the coming week, after all!

“Look, I will stay right here in this library. Mrs. Ridgeley will be here in an hour, go do what you want until then, I’m not going to disappear.”

When the Slytherin opened his mouth in nervous protest, Harry made a shoo-ing motion in his face and replicated the noise aunt Petunia always made when chasing cats out of her garden. After a slight cough, the Malfoy seemed to accept it.

“F-fine, but tell me if you need help finding anything or if I should carry–”

Harry didn’t listen to the rest, just turned around and walked along the nearest bookshelf. I liked him better when he was an arse, Harry thought in annoyance.

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After days of research and late night practice sessions, he was finally ready to enact his revenge on the Dark Lord Voldemort. He would try to do everything today, lest he got his wand-privileges revoked. While the thought of losing his beloved wand pained him, Harry thought it would be worth it–the memories would be powering his Patronuses, wait what’s the plural of patronus?? Patroni?? Harry had never thought about that!...anyway, the memories would definitely be worth it, he just hoped he wouldn’t be separated from his holly for too long. But, he’d have to be smart about the timings, the most extreme plan could not be anywhere but at the very end. Voldy would not be happy, that was for sure.

At breakfast, Harry had spelled a few flies into Voldemort’s scrambled eggs. He had had to learn how to do this wordlessly since he hadn’t wanted anyone to find out. And it had worked! Sadly, Harry didn’t know whether the Snake-Man reacted or not. He had decided while planning, that he would watch the reactions in the Malfoys pensieve as to not make the man suspicious. 

Now it was lunch and Harry was yet again reducing his fly-reservoir while nodding along to some weird pureblood-nonsense the Malfoy Matriarch was talking about. The weekend was over and Malfoy was thankfully back at Hogwarts.

Harry flinched however, when his plate was suddenly stolen! Open-mouthed (yes, he had not learned this lesson yet) he stared as Voldemort put some of the potatoes-with-weird-french-name on his fork. Realising that Voldy wanted to test if it was only his own food that tasted weird–did the forked tongue enhance his taste?? – Harry quickly cast another fly onto the fork, hidden between the yellow bits. The whole table watched as he chewed with his bare eyebrows scrunched in confusion. 

“Argh!” Harry coughed in outrage, as he got his own fly spelled into his opened mouth. How dare he! 

“My–My Lord? Is, ehem, is something not to your liking?” 

Harry watched as a bead of sweat ran along the pale man’s face. Wow, Harry thought in fascination, I didn’t know humans could develop sweat this fast!

“No, Lucius. Everything is…fine.” The Dark Lord replied softly, face neutral once more. Oh, no! Harry worried that the act of spelling a fly into Harry’s mouth gave No-Nose the idea of what was skewing with his tastebuds. Though, the man paid him no further mind and lunch resumed as usual. He really hoped the git stayed clueless.

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From Nagini he knew that the Snake-Obsessed would spend his afternoon with the so-called Boulders . He had no idea who they were supposed to be but given the serpent’s name for them, maybe Crabbe and Goyle Senior? Harry didn’t care either way, only that their Boss’s study would be empty. Checkpot! And there was the object of today's mission: The man’s favourite quill. Sadly, he couldn’t tell Nagini about his plans since Voldy knew about their friendship and would immediately question her if he thought something to be off. 

This particular spell he had already tested on Sunday with Malfoy and given that neither Malfoy nor his teacher had said anything, he figured it was also going to work on Britain's most obnoxious Dark Lord. 

Multiple complicated incantations later, the boy was finished and pulled out a spare piece of parchment for testing. With how mature he was he, naturally, drew a dick–in pink glitter! It had worked, which meant Lord Voldemort would from now on write to his followers in pink glitter! The best part was, that probably none of the man’s followers would dare comment on it. Would they, too, start writing in glitter like their Lord? The thought of the darkest wizard of Britain, the one people were too afraid to say, to even think his name, and his feared Death Eaters communicating in glitter of all things was making Harry giggle uncontrollably. He really hoped Voldy wouldn’t notice anything amiss, this was just too good!

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For his next plan, Harry wasn’t sure whether to do it at another DE meeting, at dinner or in private. Doing it without an audience could mean less harsh punishment because the man wouldn’t feel the need to prove himself…but Harry also didn’t like being alone with him. Hmm, what a dilemma. The Death Eaters would probably give him more funny reactions than just the two adult Malfoys…yep, Deathmuncher meeting it would be!

So, Harry waited super patiently until it was night because of course such things couldn’t be held earlier. Duh. When it was finally time, he disillusioned himself and additionally made sure that he couldn’t be heard or smelled. He sneaked through the dark manor until he came upon the entrance to the garden before making his way to a closed window. With a quick alohomora and another silencing charm he opened it to climb into the long hall. Harry landed very gracefully in a heap onto the expensive floor. He thanked Merlin for the magic that had quietened the ear-splitting thumb that would have otherwise rung through the lavish space. His behind smarted accordingly, damn. 

The quiet yet frighteningly authoritative voice made him get up–it was time. With a deep breath in, Harry walked to the bald, white figure at the head of the table and began casting the memorised transfiguration spells while making sure they were not visible either. It would be a disaster, if he failed to hit his target. Magna magia, da huic virum capillorum carentem aures et caudam felis! 

A big white cloud of smoke engulfed Voldemort and when it lifted–shocked gasps exploded throughout the room, Bellatrix being the loudest among them, of course. 

“MY LORD!!”

Said Lord was still sitting calmly in his chair, watching the pandemonium with his red slitted eyes. Harry broke out in such heavy laughter, he fell to the floor, hitting it in tears. When he looked up, he saw Voldemort’s hairless cat ears and tail twitch and immediately started howling again. Harry had had the brilliant idea to cat-ify the dark lord given that he already reminded the teenager of a hairless cat. And the result was just priceless!

A loud boom shook him out of his laughter and he saw a bright shield had been cast protectively around him; it must have prevented a spell from hitting him just now. In his hysteria, his concealment spells had worn off.

“Enough. Why are you all running around like headless chicken? Sit back down–yes, Bellatrix, including you. We will commence.”

Harry couldn’t understand how the wizard was staying this relaxed and—there was no way, did he look smug ?! About what?! With a wordless wave of his wand, Voldemort turned himself back into his usual non-human looks. Harry was going to miss cat-voldy. Should he tell the elves to give Voldemort milk instead of tea? Harry definitely preferred the cat nose over the weird slits he had going on and would be trying to convince him to change them permanently. 

“Harry,” called the soft voice without emotion.

“Er..yes?” He answered nervously.

“Go to bed. We will talk about your punishment in the morning.”

Harry nodded and left, this time through the doors. It was hard to resist the urge to immediately go to Nagini for gossiping. But! He resisted, Harry was immensely proud of that.

***

Lord Voldemort did not want to punish the boy too harshly and thus discourage him, for he surely must have studied and practiced quite the amount to have been able to cast such creative spells. No, Lord Voldemort was–dare he say it– proud of his little Horcrux. He was, of course, annoyed to have been subjected to the boy's wild schemes but it was also slightly impressive and definitely entertaining; he had ordered Lucius to give him the memory of the snake-army-incident and it had been hilarious! No, Lord Voldemort definitely did not want the boy to stop as long as his little pranks did not grow too much out of hand. By not overly punishing his boy it would also convey the message that Harry was favoured by him and not to be messed with, something the Malfoys had already taken to heart if their obsessive behaviour of the past few days was any indication. Bellatrix would have to take their example–and soon. He would not tolerate another curse cast against his little Soulpiece like this evening. He had made sure to crucio her afterwards, which admittedly was not much of a punishment for her.

In the end, he settled to take the boy’s wand away for two days–he could use the time for studying–and no treacle tart for the same length. Yes, this would suffice.

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Harry, in fact, did not use that time for studying. Screw the wandloss, how dare the old snake forbid him from eating his favourite desert! He had remembered the link that connected the git and him and spent the entire first day trying to access it. On the second day of his punishment he finally figured it out! He used their link to annoy the man with the weirdest images he could come up with: like Voldemort in Umbitch’s clothes– urgh! –and Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy kissing– douple urgh. He was also sending over singing on loop but Voldy had quickly shut him out after hearing just one line of the christmas song he had chosen. Rude! Harry had imagined it to be a lot more fun. He would need to figure out a way to break through the man’s shields, dammit, because currently he always had to wait until they were lowered again. 

When Harry send him images of him riding a unicorn while smiling in happiness at the dinner table, the dark wizard had just cocked one of his hairless brows and answered with an image of Harry lying over his lap with the man’s arm raised and Harry decided that maybe he should find a different way to annoy the self proclaimed Dark Lord.

Chapter Text

Apart from using the last two days to annoy Voldemort, he had also spent them very productively: coming up with stupid names for the self-proclaimed darkest lord of all time.

Stupid names for an equally stupid man(snake?):

-Snakeface                -Voldy McSnakeface                 -No-Nose

-Voldypants              -Voldy-Moldy                           -Kittymort

Among a few other ones.

However, Harry did not plan to be the one using them. He had remembered a spell the twins had mentioned a few months ago. After so many hours spent in the Malfoys’ library, finding a book that held the fitting incantation had not taken long.

Now, in the safety of his bedroom, he took list and book and began casting. The looks on the Death Eaters faces would be priceless! Sadly, he would probably only get to see the usual ones.

Harry went to dinner a lot earlier than usual. Thus, he had to endure the undivided attention of the two Malfoy’s smalltalk. It was pure torture, but his suffering would be worth it. It was not without cause, after all!

Finally, their star guest arrived. Everyone, except Harry, got up to bow to their Lord. Lucius Malfoy greeted him with a submissive “Good evening, Kittymort.” before starting to stammer in pure horror and demonstrating his impressive sweating-skills. “Ah–I am so sorry, Voldypants–NO! I –I meant No-Nose–NOO, please–” He threw himself on the ground to press his face against the expensive flooring. “Forgive me–Snakefa–argh!”

Harry joined him on the ground, though not to prostrate himself before his Captor. Harry was wheezing in laughter so hard, he was damn near suffocating. The guy almost went through his entire list! It was too good, truly. The only one missing was Bellatrix. 

Meanwhile, Lord Voldemort was looking at his crying servant and laughing Horcrux in exasperation. So, it looked like the brat had learned how to switch words with magic. Great, he thought. Those were always tricky to reverse. The names the boy had chosen though, Lord Voldemort wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

His hand twitched with the urge to curse, to make someone pay and since Lucius was still sniffling pathetically, he decided to make him snap out of it with a few seconds of his infamous crucio. And for Harry’s punishment…he would make him write an essay about the proper address of his superiors. Yes, that would teach him. Maybe add etiquette lessons with Narcissa? It was long overdue that the little gremlin learned some manners, anyway.

He casually stepped over the still spasming Death Eater and headed to the head of the table to eat his dinner.

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Harry was seething. He had spent the entirety of his free afternoon writing a Merlin-forsaken essay about addressing of all things! And now he had to play owl and deliver his parchment to the aLmIgHtY LoRd, ugh! He stomped all the way to the wizard’s office, Nagini slithering behind him, hissing in outrage on his behalf.

He barely suppressed the urge to rip open the door, fearing another essay. He opened it as gently as he could manage in his fury.

Voldy was sitting behind his enormous ebony desk, slightly chewing on his quill–Harry could still feel his magic making the man’s writing pink, uplifting his mood immensely–while annotating a book. Harry dropped his parchment when he read just which book the feared lord was reading. 

On parenting small children–How to meet their needs and grow them into healthy adults

“What in Merlin’s name?! WHY WOULD YOU READ SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!” Harry screeched. 

Voldemort just calmly closed his book. “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry James Potter. The next time you behave in such a manner, you will write another essay.” The wizard scolded him.

“Now, as for the book I was reading before your rude interruption. Since you– yes Harry, you are a child. Close your mouth before I spell another fly into it. Since you are in my care from now on, it is rather crucial that I gather information on how to best raise you. My followers are out of the question when it comes to advice; I do not want you to become even more bratty than you already are.”

Harry was speechless, only with great effort did he manage to close his mouth in time. 

“Since we are currently conversing on the topic of raising you; a healer will be visiting tomorrow morning to assess the state of your health.” Voldemort told him.

“Topsy will wake you up and bring you to the Manor’s medical room. Since some diagnostic spells require an empty stomach, you will consume your breakfast after the appointment.”

At first, Harry wanted to protest but then, he really thought about it. Had Dumbledore ever ordered a check-up? Sure, he had been in the hospital wing more times than he could count, but on those occasions, Madam Pomfrey had only treated the immediate injury. He couldn’t remember ever being thoroughly checked through.

“Wait,” Harry exclaimed out loud. “Am I even vaccinated?!” He asked in horror. 

While he was more or less talking to himself–after all, how would Voldemort know such things? –his self appointed guardian answered nonetheless.

“Most children are vaccinated in the first few years of their life.” The wizard explained patiently.

“You were one and a half, if I remember correctly, when your parents died–”

“You mean when you murdered them!” Harry interrupted, eyes darkened in anger.

“Yes, Harry, when I murdered them.” He conceded unperturbed.

“I do not know how many vaccines you had gotten administered at that point, especially considering your parents were in hiding with you. Healer Grün will be able to determine that tomorrow. Should he find you are missing ones, he will immunise you right away. It is a great shame, that Hogwarts does not conduct general health check-ups for all its students.” 

The last part was said in quiet rage and it took Harry aback for a moment, to see the expression on the man’s face–it looked very personal. Before he could analyse it further though, it was gone, replaced by neutrality again. 

Voldemort accio’ed Harry’s essay wordlessly into his hand and dismissed him.

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Harry’s stomach grumbled in hunger and nervousness. He did not know this healer or what to expect in general. So, to make himself feel safer, Topsy and he made a detour to collect his serpentine best friend for emotional support. 

When they arrived at the medical room, Healer Grün and Voldemort were already waiting. Harry was surprised to see someone not much older than himself standing next to the snake-man. His warm, golden eyes looked too kind to associate with evil dark lords.

They shook hands and introduced themselves, before entering the sterile white room with lots of unfamiliar stuff lying around. The bed in the middle had faint runes stitched into it. He recognized the ones meaning healing and harm from his new lessons, but they were combined in such ways that their meaning was lost to him. He counted at least a dozen all along the bed.

“Ah, I see you have noticed the runes,” said the Healer. “They will glow red to alarm me should something be wrong. In cases where it’s about life and death, their quick diagnosis could very well be what saves the patient,” he explained kindly. “They have become standard at St Mungo’s and there are different ones depending on what is needed.”

Harry regretted yet again, that he had not taken Runes instead of Divination. The subject was way more interesting than he had thought way back in third grade.

Harry was asked to sit on the bed, his heartbeat speeding up when he saw the two red glows. His gaze immediately went to the Professional who did not look troubled in the slightest and just told him that he had expected those two to light up. Apparently, they just meant that he had past injuries that didn’t heal right and did not have all the advised vaccines.  

Nagini, who was still complaining about the weird smell, was draped around her master who was calmly standing in the corner, watching Harry. Sadly, she had not been allowed on the bed with Harry.

Grün patiently explained the spells he would be using, how they would feel and what they would do. After answering some of Harry’s questions, he spent the next twenty minutes collecting data on his health. When he had finally finished, Voldemort held out his hand in silent demand to see the parchments. 

Harry watched how the man who had been trying to kill him since he was a baby grew increasingly more furious as he read about the various injuries he had suffered throughout his life. The very air dropped in temperature, making Nagini complain about the cold and missing her heated rock. It was very weird, Harry had no idea how to feel about this. Very few people had ever cared about him.

What were undoubtedly just minutes felt like hours to Harry, but eventually, Healer Grün took back the parchments with the medical records he had created and addressed Harry.

“Soo, unfortunately there are quite a few things we will have to fix.” He said, before hurrying on, likely having seen the mounting panic in Harry’s eyes. “But don’t worry, nothing will hurt. You have a few broken bones that didn’t heal in the way they should and will need to be broken again to be righted–with a numbing portion, naturally. Then, there is the issue of your malnourishment since early childhood. That means you will have to take several nutrient-potions for the foreseeable future.” He smiled in sympathy at Harry’s groan; most potions tasted awful.

“On the bright side, it could also make you grow a few more inches.” The wink made Harry breathe out a little laugh.

“Most of your weak eyesight will be fixable with potions as well. Not everything, but it should be quite the improvement, I imagine.”

Harry straightened in outrage. His eyesight was fixable?! Why had no one told him? Yeah, sure, Hermione had sometimes helped him out but they had both grown up in the muggle world. There had to have been at least one adult who knew that magic could do something like this!

The Healer continued. “I will give you two out of the three missing vaccine potions right now. The third one is not compatible with these ones, so it will be given to you in two weeks.” 

Harry had stopped listening though. He was too busy with his spiralling thoughts. It was hard trying to understand why no one had ever cared about his health enough to check up on him. 

So, he just drank the potions he was given and tried to ignore their terrible taste. His musings were interrupted by a stray thought, however. Voldemort had grown up during the great depression and second world war in a muggle orphanage. Had he ever received nutrient-potions? Surely, as a poor orphan, he had needed them as much as Harry?

He chanced a glance at the serpentine man in the corner. Their bond was silent, Harry could not glean any information on what he was thinking or feeling right now. 

Suddenly, after drinking another smelly potion, he couldn’t feel his body anymore. The Healer was quick to soothe him though; he would be fixing his bones now. Not wanting to watch, he looked back over to his Captor, catching his red, slitted eyes. There was no pity in them, Harry could only see understanding.

At that moment, an idea formed in Harry’s mind. Since Voldemort seemed to let him do whatever he wanted–as long as he did his studies, of course–Harry could try to change the man’s despicable goals. He just had to use more of his newfound Slytherin-side to manipulate him away from them. He could do it. Especially, looking back at how low the repercussions had been so far.

It was decided, he would vanquish Tom Riddle’s Dark Lord Voldemort persona and turn him–at least emotionally, he had no idea how to fix the man’s appearance–back into his human self. Though, now that he thought about it, he had already been rather awful fifty years ago. Well, Harry wasn’t one to quit when things looked difficult to achieve. He would do it, even if he had to call the guy dad, ugh!

Chapter Text

Harry could really get used to this. After the appointment with Healer Grün, Harry had demanded his favourite food for breakfast: treacle tart. Voldemort had looked at him in disgust, as Harry had tried to convince him with wide puppy dog eyes. The only thing that counted, though, was that Harry had been successful.

Munching happily on his tart, he watched the Snake Face consume his own breakfast and tea, expression kept in cold neutrality.

Yesterday evening, Harry had told the elves in the kitchen that the Dark Lord absolutely loved everything sweet, and that he was just too shy to say so. Being as zealously helpful as always, they had all nodded their heads and promised they would get the master’s wish fulfilled.

Voldemort, though, did not show even the tiniest reaction. Well, Harry thought in humour, maybe the git actually likes it.

There! Harry gaped at the sudden smirk. After staring at the blank face for so long, the small change felt jarring. Just when Harry was about to question it, Voldemort waved his unnaturally white hand in a sweeping motion. 

“Ah,” Harry said in dismay. The nutrient potion. He had already forgotten about those, ugh. He opened the stopper and immediately wrinkled his nose at the foul smell. He chanced a glance at the pale wizard. Voldemort’s shoulders were shaking in restrained laughter. The wanker.

Nose squeezed shut with his left hand, he emptied the bottle; it tasted as bad as it smelled. To stop himself from retching, he quickly shoveled his mouth full of yummy tard. Much better.

A light chuckle escaped the sinister lord at his antics, to which Harry narrowed his eyes in answer.

“What,” he challenged.

Voldemort just smirked in mirth and resumed eating his very sugary breakfast.

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Logically, Harry knew that, in order to achieve his goal of turning the self-proclaimed darkest lord of all times into an at least somewhat decent person, it wasn’t the best idea to continue harassing him. He just…couldn’t stop. It was hard, when he had so many ideas and so many opportunities to act upon them, okay? No judging allowed!

So, when Harry had been standing in front of his own Slytherin-coloured wardrobe, he’d had an idea: He’d turn Voldemort’s red and gold.  Somehow, Harry had also managed to convince Nagini to let him change the colour of her scales to match. 

Harry was very proud of his work. Hands at his hips, he stood in the man’s room and admired the way the once black robes shone a bright scarlet, the gold shimmering beautifully in the sun. It was perfect. Nagini seemed to agree, as she looked at her glimmering scales in the ornate full-length mirror. There was just one complaint.

“Thiss is very pretty. Very nice. But what about prey? My prey will see me and hide. Nagini will sstarve, mean Master feeds Nagini sso little.” At the serpent’s pouty expression, Harry reassured her. “Don’t worry, my friend. Doesn't Voldemort alwayss proclaim his great ssuperiority? I am ssure, he will be able to hide your new beautiful sscales from any prey.”

Harry didn’t comment on the last part; he had seen the wizard feed his snake on multiple occasions, generous amounts too.

A sudden cold and accusatory hiss made Harry flinch, hard. 

“What iss the matter of thiss?”

Harry gulped and turned around. Speak of the devil…

“Ah, good timing!” Beaming a fake smile at him, Harry gestured to the wardrobe and familiar, improvising.

“A rebrand! Doesn’t red and gold look good? Tell him, Nagini!”

“Yess,” Nagini hissed her assent, nodding her serpentine head up and down. “Very pretty, sso warm. Remindss Nagini of a nice fire. Very good. Master, you must magic my sscales camouflaged sso I can hunt and ssurvive while looking sso pretty.” The snake slithered up to her muster while hissing the command.

“Ah.” Came the noncommittal and unamused answer. One of his eyes twitched, which was a tell-tale sign that he was annoyed. At least, Harry only saw him do this during his pranks, so he assumed it was because of annoyance.

“How very thoughtful of Harry,” Voldemort hissed. Harry was reluctantly impressed that the obvious irony wasn’t hearable. “Though sadly, red and gold clash horribly with our eye colours, Nagini. The scarlet of my eyes just doesn’t fit with anything but black and green,” he said, not sounding sad at all. While Nagini gave her infamous snake-pout, he continued. “I know, very sad.” Voldemort petted his familiar’s scaly head placatingly, looking as unmoved as ever. Maybe even a tad bit amused, Harry thought.

With a wave of his white yew wand, all the spellwork Harry had worked so hard for came undone, turning every carefully coloured piece back to its original dark hues. 

“Now,” Voldy clapped his bony hands. “If you don’t want to write an essay about colour theory, young man, you will leave my chambers promptly.” 

Harry didn’t stay to fully listen to the stern warning. The moment he had heard the word ‘essay’, he had fled the scene as fast as possible. He growled at the chuckle he could hear as he closed the door behind himself. Bastard. At least Harry had gotten what he would be needing for his next prank, before he had started working on the Gryfindor-revenge. This would be fun. Internally, he was already cackling and wringing his hands evilly.

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It was a good thing that Harry had become so familiar with Malfoy Manor, otherwise he would have been unable to execute this plan. 

From the storage room he had pilfered a thick, mud-like potion. The liquid smelled as disgusting as it did back in second year, and would probably not taste much better either. With a sigh, Harry added the tiny bit of saliva he had extracted from Voldemort’s quill. Luckily, he had remembered that the wizard chewed on it. Looked like that essay had been worth it after all, or he would not have gleaned that particular information.

After adding the part of the wizard he wanted the polyjuice to turn him into, it started to bubble a bright scarlet. Swirls of green and silver accompanied the colour of Voldemort’s eyes.

Harry took one big gulp of air, before downing the potion in one go. He was very proud of himself for just gagging and keeping everything inside; it had tasted even worse than the one with Goyle’s hair. 

Though then, his insides started writhing as though he'd just swallowed live snakes. Doubled up, he wondered whether he was going to be sick. Then a burning sensation spread rapidly from his stomach to the very ends of his fingers and toes. Next, bringing him gasping to all fours, came a horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over his body bubbled like hot wax — and before his eyes, his hands began to grow, the fingers thinned and elongated. His shoulders stretched painfully and a prickling on his head told him that his hair was leaving him. The too big, black robes filled out as his limbs expanded—he had learned from the mistakes of second year, this time he had even changed to appropriate shoes beforehand.

The first thing he noticed was his eyesight; it was soo much better, he couldn’t believe there were people that saw this many details. Not even with his glasses on did he see so much! His sense of smell had equally improved. Who knew that you actually smelled better without a nose? 

Harry bent down to pick up his clothing. The amount of strength this sickly looking body had was impressive. Maybe Voldemort had had a reason for exchanging it with his pretty-privileges, the clothes he was holding in his arms weighed next to nothing and combined with the rest of his upgraded senses…

Harry stashed the pile into his wardrobe and walked out the door, trying to imitate that Dark-Lord-Walk™. Praying to Merlin that the Malfoy’s had only high quality potions, he made his way to the lounge. It would be disastrous if he turned back into himself midway through his plan.

As he reached the sun-bathed seating area, Harry became aware that the hardest part about cosplaying Lord Voldemort was, in fact, keeping the neutral facial expression. Upon noticing their Lord, everyone immediately flattened themselves on the ground to prostrate before him. A very weird sight and feeling. Harry decided that showing at least a little bit of disgust wouldn’t hurt his disguise and proceed with his plans.

“Bella,” he called out, keeping his voice as quiet as the actual wizard always did. “Come, we have something to discuss.” Without waiting for her, he started walking towards one of the Malfoys' countless empty rooms. Bellatrix, after agreeing profusely, followed behind him, steps skipping in excitement. Which she definitely had good reason for, Harry thought in wicked glee.

Once inside the room and door closed, Harry began.

“Oh, my Bella, I have brought you here to confess something very important.” Hand dramatically placed on his chest and sibilant voice trying not to laugh, he paused for effect. Bellatrix’s grin was borderline insane. Transfixed, she stared at Voldemort’s lipless mouth, looking through her fluttering lashes. 

“Yes, My Lord! What is it, what do you have to tell your loyal servant? I will do anything!” She bounced on her toes in excitement, calculatedly making her breasts move. Her voice was so sickenly sweet, she reminded Harry of Umbitch. The sheer need in it was making him sick.

“Bella…I’m unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you.” Harry quoted one of the books Hermione had complained about.

Bellatrix obviously hadn’t read the muggle book, for she was squealing loudly. “My Lord, I love you too!!” She screeched and threw herself at him. “I am so sorry I didn’t get the hint about your writing in pink glitter!”

Harry avoided having the crazy woman hug him–or worse–by walking backwards, making “ew” noises, bony hands raised in protection. 

“No, bad Bella!” At the reprimand, Bellatrix actually looked like a kicked puppy — big eyes and pouty lips and all. Harry was reminded of Catmort, but what to call his fanatic follower, Dogtrix? Bellabark?

“Tonight, visit me in my chambers. I want to fuck you. I expect you to keep your composure until then.”

The excitement was back in full force, maybe even more so than before. Harry couldn’t understand what Bellatrix found appealing about the wizard, it seemed to go above a lust for power, which Voldy had in spades. Did she…have some kind of fetish or something? Harry gagged and shook himself before muttering an excuse as he walked towards the door. He could maybe understand her a tiny bit if Voldemort still looked like his younger self, but this? Disgusting.

In any case, it would be interesting. He doubted the Lord would like his follower’s advances, or he would have given in a long time ago; Bellatrix’s feelings were by no means a secret. Besides, if Harry had actually thought this would end in the two doing it, he would have never crafted this plan.

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Meanwhile, Lord Voldemort had succumbed to the murderous thoughts plaguing his mind. How dare these filthy muggles hurt Harry! He had been seething until now, imagining different torture scenarios, one more bloody and gruesome than the other. 

The damage that had filled parchment upon parchment, the malnourishment, Lord Voldemort could not let this go unpunished. Harry was his Horcrux and, above all, he had begun to feel responsible for the little chaos gremlin.

The Dark Lord was not feeling regret for killing his parents, could not remember the last time he had felt such a silly emotion, but he did feel a tiny kernel of it at what happened to Harry after the fateful Halloween of 1981. What happened afterwards hadn’t been Lord Voldemort’s fault, still, he felt furious on Harry’s behalf, that he had to live through a childhood so similar to his own.

This morning, the report detailing Harry’s prior guardians–unworthy of such a title–had finally come in. The utter fool who had dared to keep his Lord waiting had promptly been cursed, before he had begun reading. Finding out that the Dursleys actually had the money to take care of an additional child, but just chose not to, made it even worse. And Dumbledore had never lifted as much as a pinky to change Harry’s treatment, had sent the boy back to these monsters every year after reaching eleven.

Now, he was standing before the mediocre house of number 4, that looked exactly like all the other mediocre houses in Privet Drive. Lord Voldemort stepped through what had once been powerful bloodwards–fallen since Harry did not consider this his home anymore. He would make these filthy maggots wish with all their non-existent might that they had never been born, had never treated Harry like a worthless house-elf.

With a start the Dark Lord realised that he had called his Horcrux ‘Harry’ in his mind, had been doing so for a while now. Yet, he couldn’t decipher what could possibly be the cause for such a change. Was he…was Lord Voldemort, impossibly, growing fond of his fated enemy?

Chapter Text

When Harry saw Voldemort the next day on the way to breakfast, he tried very hard not to grin.

“Morning, Mr Lord Dark.”

“Good morning, Harry.”

 “So, did you sleep well?”

Voldemort just smirked, and when they fell into step beside each other, Harry saw a little bruise on the man’s neck. He gaped at it. There was no way the two—that Harry had—

Voldemort just looked down at him in confusion, before his face cleared in understanding. He touched his neck and chuckled. 

“It’s not what you think it is, Harry, don’t worry.”

Harry breathed in relief. For a moment he had really thought–

“I didn’t get attacked, though your worry warms my heart. Bellatrix and I had sex last night–”

“NO, DO NOT—I DON’T WANT TO KNOW!! TOPSY, APPARATE ME AWAY!”

With a pop Harry disappeared and the Dark Lord could finally laugh freely. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would have been able to hold it in, the boy’s face had just been too good.

Besides, he deserved a bit of revenge after what the little pest had caused him yesterday. Especially the situation of having a half naked Bellatrix on his bed, firmly convinced that he, Lord Voldemort, had encouraged her, even told her he would be having sex with her. As if the Dark Lord Voldemort would ever be so crude.

After watching Bellatrix’s memories of said meeting, he was sure that his little son —and wasn’t it exciting to call Harry that? — was behind this stunt. 

A shudder went through him as he remembered how she had positioned herself on his bed, wearing nearly see through lacy lingerie. He had needed to burn his bed and make a new one. Disgusting. So, it was only fair he shared his new trauma with Harry. Hopefully, it would serve as a lesson. His reaction would most definitely go into his Harry-Memory-Collection, this much was sure. That gave him an idea…he should probably start making a photo-album of his son as well. Yes, he would tell Lucius to get him a camera.

But first, he had to create more memories. While he was most impressed with Harry’s skillful execution and the creativity needed to plan such a thing, he was not above making a lesson out of it. And the perfect candidate for that would be no other than Severus Snape—only because it would be immensely funny. Lord Voldemort would definitely watch the spectacle beneath concealing charms. Maybe, he would even tell the elves to prepare him some snacks for it.

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Finally feeling better, Harry opened his bedroom door after having calmed down enough with a mountain of treacle tart. 

“Potter–”

“Nope!”

Harry tried to bang the door back shut, but Professor Snape stopped the wood from closing with his magic. Damn. Harry regretted getting out of bed now. 

Snape entered the room without permission, scowl fixed fiercely in his face, crooked nose wrinkled in displeasure. He took a visible breath to calm himself down before talking.

“I see you are as much of an arrogant brat as always,” he drawled in contempt. “Your friends are worried for you and you behave like a prince. Just like your father would–”

“Yes, yes,” Harry interrupted his least favourite professor. “Get to your point. What do you want?”

Snape harrumphed and opened his mouth, left eye twitching in rage, before taking a deep breath and deciding to say something else.

“The Dark Lord has tasked me with the mission of giving you the talk about bodily functionalities and a demonstration of how to avoid their consequences.” He ignored the question marks whirring around Harry’s head and continued. “It is of utmost importance that you listen, and listen well. Follow me, and mentally prepare to try and not be a failure like usual.” With that said, he quickly turned around, making his robes billow dramatically, and walked out the door in fast steps.

Harry ran after him, still having no idea what was going on, but knowing he would have to write another essay if he didn’t comply with Voldy's orders.

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Meanwhile, an invisible Lord Voldemort was following the two, definitely not giggling at Severus’ word choices and Harry’s reaction. No, he had dignity, of course.

They entered the spacious potions room, where the Professor would be teaching Lord Voldemort’s son how to brew contraceptive potions and give him the talk, as Lord Voldemort had instructed him. After that, they would go to the training room to practice similar spells.

At Harry’s wrinkled nose, Severus asked, “Do you know what the use of this potion is, Potter?”

“Er...destroying my sense of smell?” The teenager answered, holding his nose.

The Dark Lord sat down at one of the tables, summoning biscuits, thoroughly entertained at the way Severus had to visibly restrain himself from hexing his son. This was good, and fortunately just the beginning.

“This is the contraceptive potion, it–”

“WHAT?!” Harry exclaimed, suddenly remembering the weird stuff Snape had said earlier.

“No,” Harry nervously laughed. “We are not doing that,” he said with feeling.

Snape just looked at him like he was a foul-smelling potion. “We absolutely will,” he drawled coldly. “The Dark Lord has ordered me to–” “You can shove that order up your–” “To wise you up on sex, so you don’t go around creating more of your kind.” Harry just glared at the wizard who had spelled him to silence. 

“First, let’s go over the basics: Sex is the act of gaining and giving pleasure during an act of mutual lust shared between two or more individuals of either the same or different sexes.” Snape explained it so bloody complicatedly, Harry was sure the man was a clueless virgin himself. Merlin, Harry probably knew more than him from Fred and George alone!

“During the act between different sexes, a woman can get unintentionally pregnant—for men, it takes a lot of preparation—if contraceptives are either not used at all or incorrectly.” The next sentence was going to be something mean, Harry was sure, given the cruel smirk twisting the Professor’s ugly lips. “Considering you were created during the heat of a war, and the age of your parents, you were probably such an accident too. Your father was known for being careless.”

Harry was speechless. The ugly bat had not just said that, had he?! He looked off to the side, to an invisible camera man, mouthing what.the.fuck. 

Coincidentally, his gaze had found the invisible Lord Voldemort, who dropped his biscuit in shock at being discovered, before checking his spells. He released the breath he had not realised he’d been holding when he found them still intact. Half of the biscuits were already empty, he noticed. This was just way too entertaining. He would have to throw these two together more often, he decided.

“Look here, Potter, before you create your own accident!” The potions master snarled. Magical wind forced his head to look at what Snape was doing. On a table next to an empty cauldron he had assembled a variety of ingredients. Harry hated potions class already, but being taught solo? A thousand times worse. The hour of brewing was pure agony. 

He had been wrong to complain about the brewing. Harry had thought the sex talk was already over—it was not. Snape was seriously explaining to him, voice a monotonous drawl, how sex worked. Worse, he had brought condoms!

“Take this, Potter,” Snape said, giving him a plastic wrapper. He conjured a wooden dildo and instructed him to put it on. Harry was still spelled to silence, so he could not even rant about it. He would have to save his words for Nagini when they met up for gossip later. She would definitely shit in Snape’s robe pocket as revenge. She had Harry’s back like that. What a true friend.

Next, they walked to the practice room to try the spells, and of course, Snape made him carry the dildo! As they strode through the luxurious hallways, Harry contemplated using a permanent sticking charm to glue the wood to Snape’s forehead and call him dildo-horn. Sadly, he was still unable to talk…but to practise the contraceptive spells Snape was bound to deactivate it. 

“Finite–”

“perpetuo teneo!” Harry immediately fired off the sticking spell, hoping to catch the Professor off guard—in vain. Snape merely batted the blue light away like it was nothing. Harry didn’t give up though. He cast another spell after it. And another. One of the quickly fired spells hit Snape in the leg, throwing the wizard through the air. All the lessons by the new teacher seemed to have paid off, it seemed.

As Snape was blasted backwards, something small and brown fell out of his pocket. Harry sprinted towards it, before Snape could take it away, holding onto the little figurine with all his mind while Snape tried to accio it out of his hands.

“Potter!” He bellowed enraged. “Give it here!”

Harry cast a protego and took a closer look at the brown thing in his hands. It was a figurine of an animal. It took a moment for Harry to realise just what animal he was holding between his fingers: a little capybara. Why in  Merlin’s name did Snape of all people have that in his robe pocket??

In Harry’s shock, the Professor was able to reclaim his possession, face coloured a furious purplish-red. “You…” The wizard started and stopped, upper lip twitching with all the words (and curses) unsaid. It took quite a while for him to compose himself and used all his years of experience in occlumency.

Meanwhile, Harry tried desperately not to laugh at the images in his mind, of Snape’s room covered in capybaras in the same way Voldy’s was with snakes, and the Malfoy Manor with peacocks. 

The charms lesson was extremely awkward afterwards, as you might imagine. Both Snape and Harry might have wanted to leave, or well, never wanted to do this in the first place, but not to the extent of disobeying Voldemort’s orders. 

At the same time, said Dark Lord was enjoying himself immensely. The biscuits were nearly empty now and he took a mental note to ask Severus about the capybaras later; it was just too random for the dark wizard to understand. Lord Voldemort was still immensely proud of himself for having had the absolutely brilliant idea which led to this high-class entertainment. These past few hours would be mentally cut into a best-of and treasured in a vial for his pensieve to enjoy every time he had a bad day.

Chapter Text

It was finally the weekend again, Harry’s favourite time of the week. Why? Because Draco Malfoy was forced to spend time with him! All week, he’d been planning on what to do to him this time. While Harry had initially planned on using his newfound improved eyesight from the potions he had been given, he couldn’t resist this idea. He had found it, once again, in one of the Malfoy Library's books. Sadly, this time he could not find the finished potion like he had the polyjuice, but the brewing time was just two days and the recipe fairly easy. 

So, after adding one of his hairs, Harry sneakily added the potion to Draco’s glass during dinner. The blonde went to bed none the wiser, while Harry paced inside his own room, giggling hysterically and waiting until Draco was fast asleep.

When it was finally time, Harry made his silent way towards the wizard’s bedroom, shoulders still shaking in quiet laughter. Standing over the blonde with his mouth wide open in sleep, Harry had to suppress the sudden urge to draw a moustache on his upper lip. For the sake of this prank, he resisted. With a sigh, he began his least favourite part of this prank: getting Malfoy and himself undressed to their underwear. Ew. Harry shuddered at the thought, but bravely pushed through as he kept the image of Draco’s reaction tomorrow firmly at the forefront of his mind. Not wanting to touch the git, he made sure to leave a bit of space between their skin; sharing a blanket was already too much for him. All that was left was giving Malfoy a hickey for believability. Ugh. 

***

Draco woke up with a start. He was absolutely drenched in sweat, still panting from his dream. To his immense horror, he noticed the wetness inside his shorts, how embarrassing. He couldn’t remember the last time he had reacted like this to a dream. Where did that sex-dream come from? With Harry bloody Potter, for Salazar’s sake! This was bad. Atleast, Draco told himself as he tried to calm himself down, no one will ever know. He turned to his side to grab his wand from the nightstand and use it to clean himself. 

“AAAAAH!!!” Draco screamed in shock, scrambling away from the boy lying next to him. Where did he come from and WHY WAS HE NAKED?! In this moment, Draco fully realised his own state of indecentness. He gaped at the black-haired wizard, who yawned and stretched himself leisurely upon being woken up. 

“NOOO!!! THERE IS NO–HOW?! WE DID NOT–” Draco screamed desperately. He didn’t actually have sex with Potter! It had just been a dream, nothing more, he told himself, rocking back and forth in his frenzy, keening a high-pitched sound.

“Relax Malfoy,” Potter said, grinning. There was a mad sheen in his green eyes that Draco did not like at all.

“You are acting like you don’t remember last night,” Potter said, brows twisted in patronising confusion. “Or do you remember but have changed your mind? You could have–”

“NO,” Draco yelled again, interrupting the Gryffindor. “We did NOT have sex, stop lying, Potter!” The wizard's smile dripped with condescension. “Oh yeah?” He asked mockingly. “Then what is this?” Potter’s head nodded towards the big mirror at the other side of the room, where Draco could still see his reflection. He opened his mouth to snap at Potter that there was nothing there to see, until he saw it himself. A loud gasp escaped him, as he covered his mouth with one of his hands in shock. Impossible. There, on his neck…it was a hickey. “Impossible,” Draco whispered to himself. He stood up and walked towards the mirror as if in trance. It was indeed a hickey. Behind him, still sitting on Draco’s bed, Harry was grinning deviously. 

“Wait,” Draco exclaimed, whirling around to face Potter. Shouldn’t Draco…feel it, if they had really done it? Or was Potter the one feeling it? Seeing Draco’s confused expression, Potter answered his unasked questions.

“Looks like my healing charms worked, didn’t they?” He said proudly. “Or do you still feel soreness from my–” “NO,” Draco interrupted once again. He couldn’t bear Potter’s smirks any longer and fled to the bathroom, almost running. 

Harry quickly cast a sound-proofing charm, before his guffaws escaped him. He roared in laughter, not regretting this prank in the slightest. This had definitely been worth sleeping next to the git and giving him a hickey. Harry couldn’t believe that the sex-dream-potion had actually worked so well and that Draco actually believed him. It was just too good!

Voldemort, sending question marks over their mental link, seemed to have noticed Harry’s joyous mood. Harry sent him some of Draco’s expressions, asking for a vial to make this into a pensive memory. Chuckles filled their link as Voldemort joined his fun, laughing together with Harry. 

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Breakfast was an awkward affair, to say the least. Draco’s usually pale skin was as red as a tomato and he spent the whole time looking at his plate. The only noises that left him were keening sounds or squeaked yes or no’s.

The parent Malfoys outwardly pretended as if everything was as usual, but Harry could see Lucius Malfoy’s hands shake. Harry himself was feeling great, soaking up the Malfoys’ uneasiness like an overeager sponge. Damn, Harry thought. I’m not turning into Voldemort, am I? He shook his head. No, Malfoy deserves it, this is different. I’m not actually torturing him…right?

Harry was still busy with his internal musings as the Malfoys left the table—or fled, to be more accurate. When Harry came back to himself, the table was empty, just today’s Daily Prophet was left. Shrugging his shoulders and thinking why not, Harry grabbed the paper and began reading.

“What…” Nearly at the end of the newspaper, Harry found something unbelievable. It was a horrific picture of a destroyed muggle home. The text beneath a sensational headline informed him that the family of three that had inhabited this house were brutally tortured by a witch or wizard, as magical traces had been found at the site of crime. 

Harry’s hands were shaking as he looked at the picture, the familiar house where he had suffered so many years. He looked at the windows he had cleaned so often, now covered in blood. The once beautiful garden was scorched. 

The newspaper depicted Number 4, Privet Drive, and Harry knew exactly who had massacred the only blood-relatives he had left.

Voldemort. 

A burst of accidental magic made the paper burst into flames, reminding Harry of Dumbledore’s phoenix Fawkes from second year. Fitting, Harry thought, as the paper burned just as the house in the photograph did. He did not know what to feel, too many emotions were whirring inside his head at the same time. It was too much. 

Was he happy that they were gone, and with them any chance to ever be sent back? Did it give him a malicious sort of pleasure, to know that those who had abused him had suffered?

Harry shook his head once more. While he hated the Dursleys…at the end of the day, they were still his family. Had been, Harry corrected himself numbly. They still held a weirdly special part inside his heart. He—Harry was unable to explain just what exactly he was feeling for the Dursleys, but about one thing he was sure: They did not deserve what Voldemort had done to him. Especially not in Harry’s name.

The rest of the day passes as if he was in trance. Harry didn’t quite remember his day or how it could be evening already considering it had been morning just now. How had he ended up in bed? He stared at the dark ceiling.

Suddenly, his door opened. At first, he dreaded a confrontation with Voldemort, but it was the wizard’s familiar instead. Nagini slithered inside, loudly complaining as always. 

“Youngling!” She exclaimed, worry evident in her hisses. “Why did you not meet for the pranks?” The snake asked him, slithering on his bed and draping herself over Harry’s body.

“Shit!” He cursed. “I’m so sorry, Nagini. I completely forgot.” He told her with regret. However, considering the plans had involved the wizard he was currently avoiding, Harry was pretty sure he would have cancelled them anyway.

“What is wrong with you?” Nagini asked, tilting her serpentine head. “Did Master bring you the wrong prey? Nagini can hunt you the best prey.” She offered.

Harry smiled, feeling touched at her proposition—however unhelpful.

“Thank you, Nagini,” he told her earnestly. “But I’m angry at Voldemort for something else.” Harry contemplated whether he should tell the snake what had happened, before deciding why not. “Voldemort killed my family,” he explained. “They hadn’t been nice to me, but I am still sad that he just killed them without asking or telling me. I will–” A sob escaped him, reality hitting him like a freight train. “I will—I will never see them again.” Harry cried, lower lib trembling uncontrollably and he had trouble getting air through the constricting feeling in his throat.

Nagini’s hisses sounded overwhelmed. She was out of her depth as a snake dealing with human emotion. Harry sniffled as he pulled the serpent closer, pressing his face against her cool scales. “They are dead,” he sobbed brokenly. Nagini just hissed soothing noises, accepting her fate of being cuddled by her friend and the strange salty water landing on her skin. She would revenge her human, she told herself. Voldemort may be her master, but Harry was her friend and she would make sure that the youngling would never act like this again.

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Much to Lord Voldemort’s confusion, Nagini and Harry had ignored him for the last few days. He was thoroughly unused to the cold shoulder they were giving him. Harry hadn’t even taken revenge for the Bellatrix-fiasco! Neither had any pranks occurred that he could have added to his growing collection. Apart from the Draco one, that had been the last. So, something must have happened between the laughter they shared on the weekend and Monday. But what?

Mournfully, the Dark Lord looked at the camera Lucius had acquired for him on the same day. Whenever he had tried to take a picture of his son, Harry had turned away and left the room, not giving him any explanations. And he had not even been able to follow him, for his own familiar had been hissing at him in anger, protecting Harry fiercely. Lord Voldemort was thoroughly out of his depth and he had no idea how much longer he would be able to endure this new silence, with how used he had grown to Harry’s constant mischievousness. He…the Dark Lord missed it. Never before had he grown so fond of the interactions with another human being. It was unsurprising that this person would be his own Horcrux, but caring for another being to the extent that he was feeling sad at the lack of interaction was definitely a shock to him. 

He had to fix this, but he had no idea how.

Chapter Text

Harry and Nagini continued to give Voldemort the cold shoulder. This went on for over a week, until Voldie seemed to not be able to take it anymore. After a quiet and awkward dinner, the wizard had asked Harry to stay behind. With the impeccable poker-face the man sported, it was hard for Harry to get a read on him.

He decided to not give him the satisfaction of a grand speech, and just asked, “what.” As the snake-face opened his mouth, Harry interrupted him, voice flat. “Make it short, no monologuing.” 

One of the Dark Lord’s hairless eyebrows twitched, but he remained calm. “I may have made a mistake,” he conceded. Even though Harry was pretty sure it had been the first time this man had ever uttered such words, it was not enough for Harry. Heck, with how confused the wizard had acted all week, he was not even sure if the guy even knew why Harry was upset.

“Really?” Harry drawled dryly. “And what mistake was that?” 

Voldemort cleared his throat, but remained otherwise silent.

“Thought so,” Harry scoffed. “You don’t even know what you did. How can you not know?” The anger started to simmer through, his voice getting louder and more cutting the longer he kept talking. “Was it so unspecial that you immediately forgot, that it did not even cross your cruel mind?” A hollow laugh escaped him. Harry shook his head as tears started to fill his eyes.

Voldemort opened his mouth, but to his credit, he closed it again when Harry held up a hand. The white skin between his hairless eyebrows was creased in lack of understanding.

Harry sniffled once, before continuing. The anger seemed to have drained him, for he began to feel numb. “Congrats,” he said, looking Voldemort into his red eyes. “You didn’t just kill my parents, effectively orphaning me—No, you just had to go ahead and kill my remaining relatives too, didn’t you? Mom, dad, aunt, uncle and cousin.”

The wizard looked both like he was understanding more, and like he was getting it even less than before. “But,” Voldemort started, confusion evident. “Those muggles were awful,” he said. “They abused you, starved you. They—” Harry interrupted him, emotions back in full force like an erupting volcano. “THEY WERE STILL FAMILY AND YOU HAD NO.FUCKING.RIGHT!!” He screamed, tears streaming down his face, running over his wobbling lower lip. 

The shrill screeching of his chair rang through the ornate room, as Harry pushed back from the table to flee into his room, away from the monster. “Wait!” Voldemort tried but gave up as the teenager ran away. 

“Shit,” the powerful dark lord cursed—a novelty for the well-spoken being. Well, when it came to cursewords, not if the topic was torture and murder.

Somehow, he had to fix this, even if he didn’t even know what Harry’s problem was. The teenager wasn’t even mad that Voldemort had taken the chance to kill them personally away from him. No, he was mad that they were dead. Voldemort, who had actively killed his own father, grandfather and grandmother, just couldn’t understand why Harry was so upset over the death of his abusers. It was unbelievable and probably Dumbledore’s fault. Somehow. Voldemort could feel it.

The only thing to make it up to his charge was inviting him to a Death Eater meeting. Harry 

had repeatedly whinged about wanting to join one properly, and not just during a prank. Yes, Voldemort decided. He would write Harry a pretty note and invite him to next evening, even giving him a special seat right next to his own.

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The next morning, Harry woke up to a fancy letter lying on his desk. It had ornate swirls all around it and he already knew who the sender was, as he opened the folded piece of paper. Harry sniggered at the knowledge that Britain's most feared dark lord was still writing in pink glitter because of him. The contents, however, made him angry, and Harry could not keep himself from screwing up the paper in his fist. How dare he! 

Harry scoffed derisively. “Of course the bastard thinks I’ll forget what he’d done this easily.” But then…Harry had an idea, and his previous plan reappeared in his mind like a lightbulb going on. “Right,” he whispered and closed his eyes. A few deep breaths later, Harry was ready to think and see things more clearly.

The Dursleys were already dead, he could neither save them anymore nor bring them back. A time-turner would not work due to their nature being a closed-loop. But, Harry was still able to save other people from dying. Sirius, Hermione, Ron, and so many others. He could not simply abandon Mission Dadmort, had to use Voldemort’s strange fondness for him and change the man to something less murderous. Giving up was out of the question.

Harry nodded in determination, a fire of resolve having flared up inside his chest, burning fiercely. He took his quill and dipped it in his —black—ink and wrote a polite but short answer, saying that he would join him this evening during the Death Eater meeting. This was the perfect opportunity to change the wizard’s view on a lot of things and derail any destructive plans; the reason why he had wanted to join for so long.

Harry was stunned for a second that Voldemort had prepared a seat next to himself, on his right at the head of the table. It gave the perfect position to overlook all of the man’s followers. Snape was still giving Harry glares, so nothing new. The others, however…

“My Lord!” Bellatrix fumed to Voldemort’s left, sitting closest to the wizard at the long side of the table. “What is the meaning of this? Why is the brat sitting next to you?” She whined. If looks could kill, Harry thought in amusement. Had this not been such an important mission, he would have stuck out his tongue at her. Alas, this was too important, so he watched her serenely with a slight mocking smile grazing his lips.

“Bellatrix,” the Dark Lord said quietly, dangerously. “You will not question my decisions,” he  softly said. Voldemort did not need to raise his voice for authority. If anything, the calm notes were even more fearsome than yelling could ever be.

Bellatrix deflated like a balloon. She hung her head and answered, “Yes, My Lord.”

Most of the meeting went by very slowly. Harry hadn’t imagined this to be so…boring. The whole first hour had just been monotonous reports. Every so often, Voldemort looked at him to gauge his reactions and mood. At least, that was Harry’s interpretation. Who knew what went on in that damaged brain of his.

By the time the important discussions were taking place, Harry’s own brain had already packed up for tonight and gone to bed. A place he longingly wished to be right now. In his impatience, he just interrupted a discourse about taking over the ministry. 

“You can’t just kill all Muggles and Muggle-borns,” he randomly exclaimed, drawing all eyes to himself. The wizard who had been speaking just now sputtered in indignation but was quickly silenced by his master, who held up a hand indicating for Harry to continue. “And why, Harry, are you of such sentiment?” Voldemort asked him.

Harry cleared his throat. It was of utmost importance that he delivered this perfectly, he just had to sway their minds! This was more important than catching the snitch during a Quidditch game against Slytherin with Oliver Wood as his Captain.

Harry knew that to people who hunted humans like it was a fun sport, who did not even possess a dewdrop of empathy, that fairness and morality did not count to them. To be able to convince them, Harry would need to argue with logical facts. The most impactful had to hit first, or Harry would be shut down immediately.

After taking in a deep breath, Harry began pleading his case. “The Muggle Ministries are aware of our existence,” he started, voice less shaky than he would have anticipated. “Think about the weapons they had 50 years ago. Considering they already know about us, there is no way they haven’t started developing weapons against us—”

“Yes!” One Death Eater interrupted him. “That’s why we have to enslave them all!” This was met with a lot of cheers. Harry’s hands started to shake. This was not good.

“Harry,” Voldemort said softly. “You said it yourself, they are dangerous. Even if we let them continue to multiply, one day they would decide to attack us on their own.” Before Harry could deny it, he asked him, “What is your idea, then, to ensure the safety of our kind?”

This was Harry’s last chance, and he had to take it.

“You have to be smart about it,” Harry said quickly. He, Ron and Hermione had already talked about this and he planned on repeating what the witch had said. Well…in an adjusted manner. “If you attack them outright, they will retaliate, especially if it is just one nation alone. We need an international alliance and reduce their numbers slowly but steadily. Maybe target their fertility in a way they will think their technology the cause. Their lifespans are a lot shorter than ours, so you would already see an improvement in a few decades.” As he finished speaking and noticed how out of breath he was, he realised that he had started speaking faster and faster. Shit.

Voldemort’s face was as blank as ever, had not moved a muscle during Harry’s entire speech. Harry tried one last time with a weak, “Yours could always be Plan B…?”

“We could just use the Imperius Curse to control their governments, Harry.” The dark wizard said, holding up his white, bony hand so none of his followers would interrupt him. “Why should we be forced to endure their filthy presence for any longer than we have to?” 

Harry opened his mouth, yet he was speechless. He gaped at the wizard, trying really hard to find an argument strong enough to not be laughed at. He came up empty. The morality aspect would not count, and Harry suspected they neither cared for other nations. 

Instead of staying on a sinking ship, he tried a new approach, swaying the topic over to muggleborns. “We need the Muggle-borns though,” Harry started, prompting one of Voldemort’s hairless eyebrows to rise. “Think about it, if you purebloods are all working in the ministry or as investors, who will work the less desirable jobs? The halfbloods won’t want to be the lowest ranking ones, they will want to dominate someone too. What if they band together and fight back?” Harry’s heart was beating so fast, he felt like a rabbit being chased by a wolf.

Voldemort looked like he was actually thinking about what Harry had said. Before the lord could voice his thoughts, Harry tried again. “You could make a traditions-class mandatory, so the old pureblood-traditions are passed along and—” Voldemort interrupted him softly. “Calm yourself, Harry.” He gulped, fearful at what the older wizard would say.

“While I would prefer to purge the Muggle-borns, I would be ready to see what would come of having them enter our world much earlier and raising them with the right ideals. However,” the wizard continued. “I will not budge on the fate of those filthy creatures they descend from. No, Harry, close your mouth, that one is final.”

Harry was silently fuming in both anger and dread at those words. The Muggle-borns though… “Does that mean you will at least give the Muggle-borns a chance?” Harry asked, trying not to get his hopes up. 

“That all depends on Dumbledore and the Light-side,” Voldemort answered. “I will punish those who oppose me. The ones who do as they are supposed to, they will get to live. I am a merciful lord, so I will reward those with good behaviour and talent with positions and opportunities.”

Harry wasn’t sure how much of an improvement he had achieved with the Dark Lord. It would take a while to change the wizard, Harry would need to chisel away at Voldemort’s cruel ideals one chip at a time.

“Dumbledore will have made sure that all the Muggle-borns currently attending Hogwarts will want to fight for him, to give their life for his side of the war,” Voldemort continued. “Like it was the case with the generation of your parents, Harry.” At those words, Harry’s breath caught. “Your friend Hermione Granger will not be harmed if she does not fight me,” Voldemort said, and Harry knew that the wizard meant it, could feel it deep in his bones. Hermione, however, was not someone to give up a fight. It would maybe even be harder to convince her to not fight Voldemort, than making the man change his ideals.

“Please don’t hurt my friends,” Harry whispered imploringly. “I can’t–not them, please.” In this moment, it felt like they were the only ones in the room, as Harry pleaded with the Dark Lord. Voldemort held his gaze for what felt like ages, until he hissed his answer.

“I will not harm them, Harry,” he promised. “As for your relatives I’m…sorry. I had thought you would be happy about their death. People close to you will not die again without your permission.” Harry nearly sobbed in relief at those quiet assurances. Just in time, he caught himself, or he would have thrown his arms around the bony wizard. Which would have been very awkward.

After that, Voldemort ended the Death Eater meeting and sent Harry off to bed.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ 🗲 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Lord Voldemort was pleased to know that his plan to get Harry back to the way he had been before had worked perfectly. Just this morning after breakfast, his little menace had tried to bully him with embarrassing stories from his youth. How creative! The Dark Lord was amazed at Harry’s resourcefulness. Apparently, the boy had blackmailed Abraxas’ portrait—a former dormmate of his—to tell him the information. Lord Voldemort was very proud of his son. He just wished that Harry wouldn’t have held up his part of the deal; the image of proud Abraxas being shit on by his own peacocks was just too good. Harry had picked a formidable threat.

This evening also marked the last of Harry’s vaccine potions, of which he had taken the other ones a few weeks ago. Finally, his son was save from things he should have been protected from years ago.

During dinner, he had noticed that his adorable Horcrux was blinking very fast at him. Was this some kind of secret message he was meant to decode? How fun! Ah, how Lord Voldemort had missed the adventure Harry brought into his life, enriching it with his fun pranks and unpredictableness. His photo-album was also steadily growing, of which the Dark Lord was immensely proud.