Chapter 2
“Where were you, Harry?” were the first words that Voldemort heard as soon as he stepped through the portrait covering the Gryffindor common room entrance. “We were worried sick about you, and you’ve been missing for five days,” Hermione blared loud enough for the whole tower to hear. Several people from all years were standing on the stairs leading up to the dorms, staring at the Boy Who Lived and his friends and hoping for something interesting to happen.
“I was staying with a professor so that he could keep an eye on me to make sure the dementor didn’t adversely affect me,” the brunet replied, emerald eyes narrowed at the obnoxious busybody. Merlin, he thought, disgusted, is she always like this? Voldemort had spent the last few days going over the boy’s memories, trying to assimilate the obviously different behavior to his own personality, but in some of the recollections, this sort of attitude from the teen’s ‘best friend’ was there, but obviously muted. He must look at his friendships through rose-colored glasses, the man thought in disgust. So desperate to hang onto them that he’ll put up with anything so that they’ll stay his friends.
“Was it professor Dumbledore?” the bushy-haired girl continued relentlessly. “You know that he’s the only one you can really trust to look out for your best interests.”
“No, I stayed with professor Snape,” the Dark Lord answered, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why did you say that?”
Hermione looked at her feet, refusing to answer as a blush crawled up her face. “We couldn’t find you after the opening feast, mate,” Ron jumped in, “and we decided to go ask professor Dumbledore if he knew where you were. He didn’t, and we spent the last five days looking for you.” There was a pause, and then blue eyes narrowed as the freckles on Ron’s face disappeared behind the growing angry flush. “Why did you stay with Snape? You know he hates you, and you hate him.”
“Professor Snape was with the headmaster and professor Lupin,” Harry answered, chin jutted out mulishly. “He came to find me and told me that he volunteered to look after me, to make sure that I was all right after my run-in with the dementor. We spent these last few days talking and working out our differences.”
“Are...are you sure you can trust professor Snape?” Granger queried hesitantly. “I mean, he’s always hated you for no good reason that we know of, so maybe he wanted to get you alone so that he could...I don’t know...abuse you?”
Voldemort stared at Harry’s friends with his eyebrows skating into his hairline. A teacher who has dozens of witnesses to his behavior every single day, you wish to accuse of abuse. But when the boy tried to talk to you about those disgusting muggles he’s lived with, you turn a deaf ear. Are the pair of you the only friends the boy has? Am I going to have to continue making nice to the two of you as long as I’m stuck here?
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The noise in the Great Hall was fairly loud as students fueled up for their classes. Harry had fallen behind in his lessons because of his ‘recuperation’, so Hermione was busily shoving parchment after parchment at him and telling him that she’d taken notes for him whilst he was missing. “Don’t forget to use the study guide I included,” she nattered on, missing the look of growing irritation that was in her ‘best friend’s’ eyes. “You need to buckle down this year and make sure you do all your homework. Of course I’ll be happy to look over it for you, just to make sure that you’ve done it properly…” Gritting his teeth, Voldemort turned his attention to the food on the table, loading up a plate with quick jabs of his fork as he fought not to explode and curse the impertinent mudblood.
“Hey, mate,” Ron said from the other side of the table, spraying masticated food all over the place as he continued to shovel forkful after forkful of his breakfast into his gaping maw. The Dark Lord grimaced at the disgusting sight, vowing that he would put a protection ward around his plate to make sure his own food wasn’t contaminated by the blood traitor’s saliva. “Don’t forget that you also have quidditch practice. Oliver’s not going to accept the excuse of that dementor, so you’ll need to be the perfect seeker if we’re to win the cup this year.”
What have I gotten myself into? Voldemort wondered as his ears were continuously assaulted by the mudblood and blood traitor. They never noticed, nor did they comment on his silence, and emerald eyes rolled as he remembered that Harry never spoke much. If this useless cow doesn’t shut up in the next few minutes, I’m going to hex her until she’s a drooling idiot. To think that the one being prophesied to defeat me was treated like a recalcitrant child for most of his school career. I must maintain, however, if I want to use this body to get everything I want.
Post owls flew into the Great Hall midway through breakfast, carrying envelopes and newspapers for the students and staff. A couple of the missives were red and smoking as they headed toward the end of the Gryffindor table. “Oh, dear,” Hermione murmured as she watched the owls drop them in front of a pair of identical redheads. “What do you suppose Fred and George have done now?” Before the envelopes could open and unleash their venom, the twins flicked their wands, destroying the letters before they had a chance to humiliate the pair in front of the whole school.
“Mum hasn’t learned yet,” Fred murmured with a mournful shake of his head.
“We’ll just have to keep doing this until she finally catches a clue,” George added before both teens returned to their breakfasts and their conversations with Oliver and Lee. A Ministry owl had fluttered down the table, dropping its letter in front of Harry and winging away. He Who Must Not Be Named picked up the missive and cracked the wax seal, pulling the parchment from the envelope as his eyes scanned the words written on the page.
“What’s that?” Granger asked from beside him. She reached over, hand out to grab the letter, but Harry yanked it away before she could touch it.
“Do you mind?” the raven haired teen asked loudly, scowling at the girl.
“But Harry, you always share your letters with us,” the girl told her friend a little bossily. “We have to make sure that they’re safe for you to read.” Once again, she attempted to reach for the letter, but the brunet slid further down the table, glaring angrily at the impertinent mudblood.
“I am entitled to my privacy, the same as the rest of you,” the boy announced in a ringing voice. The entire hall grew silent as they watched the show, many of the students hoping that this would spell the end of the Golden Trio. “That I’ve let your intrusive nosiness go this far is a mistake I intend to rectify. From now on, unless I hand the letters to you personally, whatever’s in them is none of your concern.” Voldemort stood and stormed out of the dining hall, shoulders stiff and back straight as he fought to tamp down on the anger wanting to slip its leash.
“Twenty points from Gryffindor for failing to understand manners and common courtesy,” Snape intoned with a gleeful smile as he followed his lord out of the Great Hall. He caught up with the teen outside the potions classroom, since that was the first class for the Gryffindors and Slytherins. “Are you all right, my Lord?” the Potions Master queried after he put up a localized silencing charm.
“How did he do it?” Voldemort asked a little desperately. At the confused look, he elaborated. “How did Potter put up with the abuses and lack of consideration to which everyone subjected him? His memories painted his friends in a far rosier light than they deserved, but quite a bit of their real treatment of him filtered through.” He turned to glare at his minion, satisfied to see the pale man go white. “Your reports on the child are grossly exaggerated,” he growled lowly. “He’s neither arrogant nor spoilt. I’ve seen some of his memories when he’s with the muggles, and he was raised like us.
“I know it might be hard for you to understand, but believe me when I say that he spent the first ten years of his life being abused and starved. It’s only been his regular meals here that have offset much of the damage done to him growing up. As far as being my nemesis, had anyone else but Dumbledore gotten to him first, he might not have turned out this way. He was supposed to be in Slytherin, but your godson put paid to that notion rather quickly. So, I’ll make an ‘effort’ to get to know the whiny brat, and hope that he’s smart enough to see which way the wind blows.”
“I will do what I can to ensure that you and Draco are partnered up in my classes,” the potions professor agreed. “Now, what was that little dust up at the breakfast table?”
“Oh, the mudblood tried to grab the letter out of my hand, and when I refused, she insisted that I shared everything with them and tried to get it again,” Voldemort replied with a grimace. “Did the boy have absolutely no privacy?”
“Not much,” Severus was forced to concede. “Most of that can be laid at Albus’ feet. It was he who spread the news that Harry Potter ‘vanquished’ Lord Voldemort, after all. He kept yakking on about the boy surviving the killing curse, but both you and I know that it’s not possible unless someone has performed a very Dark life-for-life sacrificial ritual. Lily was strong enough and smart enough to want to protect her child in any way possible, so…”
“Yes, the mudblood was quite a combatant,” You Know Who murmured churlishly. “I did try and let her go. I told her that all she had to do was step out of the way and let me kill the boy, but she refused. It didn’t occur to me until just now that she used her refusal three times to activate the ritual. Hopefully, with this new body and a working brain, things’ll be better.”
“What was the letter, if I might ask?” Severus turned and opened the potions classroom door, walking in and sitting behind his desk. He realized that classes would soon start, and that it wasn’t wise to speak of the things they were discussing in so public a place as the hallway. Voldemort sat at the station right in front of the desk.
“It was from Fudge,” He Who Must Not Be Named replied with a moue of revulsion, “writing to pander to me. He gave effusive apologies for the dementor attack on me, and told me that he’d have his wardsmiths out over the weekend to beef up the school’s protections against the demons. Now, before the rest of the students get here, I need you to do something for me, when you have the time.” The older man nodded, and Voldemort continued. “I’ll write down the locations of my loose horcruxes, as well as any protective spells I might have on them. I need you to collect them and bring them here, where they’ll be safest.
“I find that, with the tattered bit that was left after I made the last one, as well as the one inside this child’s head, I’m a bit more lucid than I was. As well, the diadem is here, and the soul shard within it is resonating with me. That tells me that as long as I have them nearby, my mental clarity will continue to improve. I made some egregious mistakes when I created those, and I’m hoping that if I bring them all back together, my sanity will improve, and I’ll be able to achieve the goals I’d set out for myself so long ago.” Chattering in the hallway that sounded like it was approaching the classroom had Voldemort rolling his eyes and sighing heavily. “Merlin,” he murmured, “now it’s time to start the dog and pony show.” A snort of amusement was the only reply the potions professor could offer as the teen stood and made his way to the desk at the back corner of the room.