An Earth-Shattering Event - Part 2
Hadrian eventually made his way upstairs. He found Barty and Voldemort sequestered away in his room.
Now leverage or not, he was not going to be just ignored and cast aside, but also, he understood that there needed to be a bit of give and take for this to work out for him. It was all so confusing, should he stand up for himself or to relinquish some of the iron clad control he had had while with just Barty.
Barty turned from tending to his Lord in the bed to find Hadrian standing in the doorway with a blank look on his face, but Barty could see he wasn’t pleased with his space being invaded as soon as the Dark Lord was back. Barty was torn, he had come to see them both as his Lord’s, despite the fact he had served Lord Voldemort longer he still had almost equal deference to his Lord Hadrian, as he had come to think of him as.
Hadrian see’s Barty’s torn look when he turns around, and is slightly confused, yet he nods his head in acquiescence almost involuntarily. How he knew Barty was looking for his permission he didn’t know, but he was more confused over Barty seeking it in the first place than his reactions to it.
Unbeknownst to them both, Voldemort takes note of the reaction himself. He would have to have a private conversation with Barty to figure out why he was giving his admiration to a person other than himself. He wasn’t deranged anymore, if he was, he would of crucio’d Barty within an inch of his life for merely the thought of reverence to another, let alone a clear action of.
Barty had explained to situation with Hadrian on the way up to the manor. It couldn’t be said that he was surprised that the Light side had turned on their saviour, they always turned on those more powerful than them as soon as they couldn’t control them anymore. They were much like Muggles in that sense, afraid of that they couldn’t understand and control. What he was surprised at was the complete turning of Hadrian, with what he had seen, Hadrian was too much of a weak-willed boy and a push over of a man once he reached his majority. He would never have thought that the boy could even entertain the thought of revenge, let alone to the point of reviving the Dark Lord himself.
Voldemort turned his eyes to Hadrian and Hadrian turned his eyes to him in return. They proceeded to have quite the childish stare down. Both refused to stand down, staring at each other for going on 5 minutes before Barty interrupted,
“I will fetch you a light dinner, my Lord.” He almost rand from the room. As much as he adored both his Lord’s, he couldn’t stand that room any longer, feeling the tension and hostility between his Lords hurt a part of his soul.
In Barty’s absence, Hadrian was unsure of how to handle this situation, it was like when he met Barty all over again, but about 10 times worse.
Voldemort, while a bit more collected than Hadrian’s jumble of thoughts, was much in the same situation. He was still processing the transition from life to death, and now had to deal with the champion of Light throwing a hissy fit as soon as all those he had trusted had turned on him. Don’t get him wrong, Voldemort understood that anger at being betrayed, and he had turned it into the most powerful Dark Lord in history. But Hadrian, the Dark Lord, was 99% certain that as soon as he realised what it took to be Dark, let alone a Dark Lord, he would lose all his nerve and give in.
Barty had told him on the way up all about Hadrian’s lofty ideals of becoming a Dark Lord, feared the world ‘round and honestly, while he could sympathise to the situation, the chances of him having what it took to be a Dark Lord were quite literally one in the entire universe. There was one Dark Lord in the universe, the title bestowed upon one wizard by Lady Magic herself for their entire lifetime. Now he wasn’t going to completely rule out the possibility of a second Dark Lord, who was he to decide whether Lady Magic would act as such. He knew that the balance of Light and Dark was out of balance and for all he knew, a second Dark Lord could be Lady Magic’s solution.
Well, there was one way to address the conviction of Hadrian’s actions,
“Barty tells me that you wish to be a feared Dark Lord.” The upfront approach could usually startle into a more honest response.
“What of it?” Hadrian simply crossed his arms over his chest, he wasn’t going to give anything to a Dark Lord they hadn’t even ascertained the sanity of.
“Forgive me for doubting your conviction. From what I’ve seen, you possess little to none of the skills required of a Dark Lord.” Was Voldemort’s response.
“You doubt my conviction? If had lacked the conviction to go through with this, do you think I would have been able to bring you back? Do you think I would’ve even had the nerve to attempt reviving you? I’m all in, everything or nothing. I have no world to go back to, my vengeance is all I have left, and I will see it through, whatever it takes!”
Voldemort was honestly surprised by his vehemence, don’t get him wrong, he still wasn’t convinced, yet it did seem that at least the kid had managed to get himself to believe he could do it, and that was something. His thoughts were interrupted by Barty’s return with a tray of a light broth that was pared with some very thin bread.
Barty set the tray down on Voldemort’s lap. Barty then proceeded to stand off to the side with his head bowed, waiting for further instruction. It seemed it would come quickly as Voldemort inhaled in preparation for speech.
“Barty, I need you to go to the cache in Albania. You will need to retrieve all of my belongings and transfer them back here to Slytherin Manor.”
Hadrian was confused, he was pretty sure the manor was the old one inhabited by Voldemort’s Muggle family. Also, Albania? That was a strange choice.”
“Don’t you mean Riddle Manor?” Hadrian asked,
“No. Do not speak that name here again, this manor was officially redone and rebranded as Slytherin manor, and you will call it as such.” Voldemort’s tone brokered no argument. Hadrian frowned but acquiesced, he didn’t want to annoy him over-much, not just yet that is.
“Albania?” he questioned instead.
“Of course. You don’t think I just spent years as a wraith roaming the Albanian countryside for no reason, do you? I have caches all over the world, the one in Albania being one of the main ones.” Some might question Voldemort’s easy release of this information, but he doubted Hadrian would go through all the trouble of resurrecting him just to find his old books, no one on the Light side even appreciated ancient literature and witchcraft anymore, they just ruled it all as Dark and left it be. And if Hadrian did try to run with his information, he wouldn’t get far.
“Barty.”
“Yes, my Lord?”
“Before you leave to begin preparations ensure you leave the book with me.”
“Of course, my Lord. I’ll fetch it for you at once.”
Barty bowed and hurried from the room.
Hadrian at least knew what they were talking about this time. Barty had told him when Hadrian had questioned him writing and gluing newspaper clippings into a book. In the event of Voldemort’s death, his followers were to keep a detailed record of all major events between his death and eventual resurrection so he could catch up. While he could just consume their memories, integrating another’s memories into your own was very ill advised, all the differences, however miniscule could make a man crazy. Your brain would be recalling a memory, sure it had experienced it, but little outliers such as being slightly shorter, different teeth, seeing a different skin tone rather than your own. No one remained sane for long.
Barty soon returned holding a quite thick scrap book bound in leather and tied shut with a thin cord. Instead of just handing it over, he knelt beside the bed where the Dark Lord was laying and presented it too his Lord.
The Dark Lord took it from Barty, yet Barty remained kneeling on the floor, as if waiting for something. Hadrian could see he wanted to ask for something but didn’t seem to have the courage to do so.
Voldemort reached out and presented Barty with his hand. It seemed it was exactly what Barty needed. Barty’s entire face lit up, he took his Lords hand delicately and kissed his knuckles with such reverence Hadrian almost felt he was intruding on something private.
Barty held on for a second or two longer before releasing Voldemort’s hand and standing. He then bowed at the waist and left, presumably to begin the preparations Voldemort had mentioned.
Instead of being overwhelmed with disgust at such a sight as he had expected, Hadrian was surprised to find that he was envious, he wanted that, someone at his feet, such worship upon their face. Comforted by his mere touch. Absolutely reverential. He was jealous.
He looked up to see the Dark Lord looking at him with a smirk on his face as if he had read Hadrian’s thoughts.
In truth, he hadn’t even needed legilimency to ascertain Hadrian’s thoughts, his jealousy was clearly written all over his face. If he wanted to be a Dark Lord, he would need to work upon that. Yet the jealousy itself did bode well for his intentions, maybe Voldemort had judged too harshly.
Still, he would attempt to converse with Lady Magic to see if his assumption truly was the opportunity he was being presented with. He would attempt tonight before his sleep. Conversing with Lady Magic was a unique privilege only bestowed upon the Lords of Magic. She was of course not obligated to reply to his request, but if she deigned, she would respond to his query in his dreams that night.
He was honestly quite exhausted, not that he would show it. Coming back from the brink of death wasn’t exactly an easy feat. He had been starving when Barty finally suggested he was going to go get some dinner.
As kindly as he could muster in his state, he asked, “I would ask you to now vacate my rooms, I wish to get some sleep.”
Hadrian could tolerate him taking his bed, he would not tolerate being evicted from his own rooms and told the Dark Lord as such.
The Dark Lord simply smirked, “Well, unless you’re going to get in here with me, I don’t know how you suggest you will stay in here, I suppose you could always take the floor.”
Hadrian scowled and stalked out of the bedroom. He fumed in the sitting room for a while before deciding to set up camp on one of the very opulent and cushy lounges. Compared to some of the surfaces he had slept on, ruffing it on a couch was nothing. And realistically, he thought, he hadn’t left his rooms, he still was in one of his rooms. So, he hadn’t given in. Technically. Right?
Someone was shaking him. Voldemort lashed out, before he was even fully awake. Reaching for a wand that wasn’t there he finally opened his eyes to find Hadrian standing off to the side with a tray of what was presumably his breakfast.
“Barty left early this morning. Apparently, you need to be catered to while you recover.” He explained. He didn’t want Voldemort to think that he was doing this out of the little kindness still left in his heart.
Voldemort nodded and reached for the tray. There was a platter of fruits, some plain toast with some spreads in little dishes on the side. He appreciated the light breakfast, last time when he’d come back, he had immediately tried to eat everything to regain energy and had ended up throwing it all back up.
He waved his hand over the food in a strange gesture and then a white light shone briefly above the food.
“What have you put in the food?” Voldemort demanded; the white meant it was nothing harmful but there was still something there.
“Nutrition potion. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back.” Hadrian said, reaching for the tray. Some people were so ungrateful.
In response to the demand Voldemort very childish hugged the tray closer to him and turned away slightly.
Hadrian gave a hum of ‘that’s what I thought’
Voldemort frowned at him and then turned his thoughts inward. He for the life of him couldn’t recall any dreams from last night. He kept trying to recall his dream for a while before he gave up, it wasn’t going to happen. He knew that Lady Magic was in no way obligated to reply to any of his questions and that it was a privilege to even be allowed to ask, yet he found himself disappointed. She had never not answered him before, even if it was vague, she usually gave him some kind of hint. Maybe he needed to prove himself to her again, after all, from all he could remember from his previous life, he had a lot to redeem.
He shook himself from his thoughts and focused on the food in front of him, he was really hungry. He performed one last in-depth, wandless detection charm and as Hadrian had stated, it only came back with a nutrient potion. With that done he at last dug in with as energy as possible whilst still being polite.
He soon finished his breakfast and found Hadrian was still standing in the room.
“Would you mind running a bath?” It took something out of Voldemort to ask instead of command, but he owed Hadrian a life debt, he wouldn’t be here without Hadrian, and he had to repay that debt, and he really wanted that bath. Despite the fact Barty had attempted to get all the potion off him with the towels, he could still feel it on his skin. A simple cleansing charm wasn’t any substitute for a real bath either.
Hadrian huffily made his way through to the bathroom. He told himself he would have to get used to it. When Barty had left, he had left a very in detail list of instructions in regard to Voldemort’s care. Apparently among other things, he was extremely susceptible to illness and bacteria he his newly re-birthed state. And as such would need bi-daily baths or at least on bath and a cleansing charm or too every day for at least 3 weeks. Also, on the note had been Barty’s estimated date of return. It was 2 months away. On Halloween to be exact. How auspicious.
Apparently, he had to use Muggle travel because of his supposedly deceased status. Which meant it would take forever. Lucky Hadrian.
Hadrian turned the taps to the prescribed temperature by Barty and chucked in the salts and oils that Barty had advised. Hadrian had luckily found the linen cupboard over the course of his exploring for the past month and a bit. Whilst he was there, he picked up a change of bed sheets as well as some towels. He would not have any remnants of the revolting potion on his bed sheets. And also, it probably was good to keep the sheets clear for the Dark Lords apparently weakened immune system.
He placed the towels in a reachable place from the bathtub so that the Dark Lord wouldn’t track water everywhere trying to get to them. He then returned to the bedroom to find Voldemort leaning heavily on the bed post, standing on shaking legs as he undoubtedly attempted to make his own way to the bathroom.
Hadrian leaned against the door frame smirking at him. He scowled in response.
“Would you lend me a hand?” Voldemort managed to grit out between his teeth. Just barely, only just.
Hadrian rolled his eyes at the stubbornness and strode over to the struggling Dark Lord. He took a deep breath; he could do this. With that in mind he reached out and threw the Dark Lords arm over his shoulder so he could help him over to the bathroom.
Their progress was slow and in complete silence, both trying to avoid the situation but knowing they had to put up with it and would have to for a couple days before the Dark lord regained his strength enough to walk on his own, or at least with a cane instead of a human support.
They eventually made their way into the bathroom. The absolutely massive bathtub had somehow already filled, and the taps had turned themselves off when it go to optimal amount. Magic, it truly was amazing. Hadrian, as gently as he could, lowered the Dark Lord to sit over the edge of the bathtub. He was only wrapped in a blanket as he had not got a chance to change from last night.
But come to think of it he didn’t really have anything to change into, did he? Hadrian had burned everything. Hadrian was starting to regret that decision as he realised, he was going to have to deal with a barely clothed Dark lord until he could fix the clothing situation. He doubted Voldemort would lower his standards enough to wear Dudley’s cast off’s.
How would they even get clothes? They couldn’t exactly go out. They obviously couldn’t go to Diagon or any Wizarding shops, but even in the Muggle world, they couldn’t exactly show up clothed in blankets and the cast off from Dudley. Hadrian personally knew how much your appearance meant to shop keepers. The few times he had managed to get away to Muggle London to try and buy some new clothes, he was immediately turned away upon entering the store. Admittedly he looked like a beggar who was going to steal something. But still.
This was going to be serious issue, though a more immediate one presented itself in the form of a glaring Dark Lord on the floor.
“What?” he questioned, seriously, what had he done to warrant such a look.
Suddenly the glare disappeared, and the Dark Lord shrugged and said, “Fine then, have it your way.” And immediately threw off the towel and made his way into the bath. Hadrian was quick enough to avert his eyes. He saw as he slid into the bath, his fairly skeletal figure. Luckily, he was facing away from Hadrian, so he didn’t see, it. But what he did see was strange, it was still hard to process that he had skin not scales. He’d only seen one human Voldemort and that had been diary Riddle.
He realised he was still standing in the bathroom, now openly just staring at the Dark Lord of all people. He blushed in embarrassment and hurriedly left.
He got back to the bedroom and changed the sheets to keep his mind off what had just happened.
It wasn’t long before he heard some cursing from the closet and decided to go face his choices.
He had however learnt his lesson and knocked on the walk in robe’s door before entering, he got a gruff ‘enter’ in return and stepped into the walk-in-robe.
The Dark Lord was clad only in a towel around the waist, flicking through the multitude of cabinets and closets looking for something where there was nothing, Hadrian had made sure of that.
“Where are all my robes?” Voldemort distinctly remembered at least wearing robes in his last life, he had forgone shoes, horrifyingly. How had anyone respected him? He hadn’t worn shoes!
“I… um…” Hadrian rubbed his neck sheepishly as the Dark Lord turned to face him with a frown on his face. “I burned them all.” He spat out, now he knew he probably shouldn’t have, they were truly hideous though, and he wasn’t going to admit a mistake in front of the Dark Lord.
“They were disgusting anyway, I did you a favour.” He said, trying to make up for his previous hesitance.
Voldemort frown deepened. “While I can agree about that, how exactly do you suggest I get a new wardrobe with anything to wear?”
Hadrian shrugged and turned away to hide his once again red face.
Voldemort just huffed, honestly, if the boy wanted to be a Dark Lord, he needed to start owning his actions, wrong or right. Speaking of being a Dark Lord, the boy could use a wardrobe revamp himself, honestly what was he wearing? Even if he wasn’t to be a new Dark Lord, nobody should be seen in those rags, especially now he was joining the Dark side. His followers would scrutinise everything about him, especially when his high position in the hierarchy was revealed.
Voldemort wasn’t stupid, he knew he could use the boy’s defection. Despite the fact that it seemed the whole world had turned on him, there would still be the memory of when he was their saviour, their hero, and many would still hold his opinion in high esteem. As such he would need a high position, and that would mean looking worthy of such a position.
“Alright, I will floo one of my other safehouses from the first war, it will still contain robes from my last period in a human body. They won’t fit as well as they should, but they will be enough to pass by, I should also have a cloak so we can cover that whole situation,” he said indicating Hadrian and his rags, “Don’t give me that.” Voldemort when it looked like Hadrian would retort, “if you want to be a Dark Lord, you need to have the appearance of one. They will never respect you if you are not worth respecting, and that includes respecting yourself, and no one could respect themselves wearing that. It is final, I will floo one of my unoccupied safehouses, I will return with some suitable clothes for you to wear so we may for go trying to hide everything with a cloak. We will the floo the French Wizarding District so we may procure some more modern and well fitted garments. Understood?”
Hadrian huffed, he would nod and play along. He knew his clothes were horrid, and honestly, he wouldn’t mind a proper set of wizarding garb. He had quite liked the flowy-ness of his dress robes to the Yule Ball. But still, he wouldn’t fall over himself to agree with the Dark Lord. There were still a couple holes in his plan, how would they procure the money for such clothes? They were both criminals, one of which was supposed to be dead. Still, Voldemort sounding sure of himself so either he had a plan, or Hadrian would get to laugh at him when he realised the flaws in it.
With that the Dark Lord swept out with more grace than one would think could be achieved when only wearing a towel. He headed for the fireplace in his sitting room and grabbed a handful of floo powder. This was going to be interesting to say the least.