Chapter 3
January 5th, 1967
Harry had never been so worked up before. Had never cared to make a good impression. But this was Lord Voldemort he was talking about.
The man was known for his good looks and formality, aside from the murdering and being a Dark Lord, of course.
“Adelaide!” He yelled, hoping she heard him, wherever she was.
“Yeah?” Adelaide responded, barging into his room after a couple of seconds, out of breath, most likely from running around in the background trying to catch the pesky little gnomes after she lost a bet with him and the other convicts.
“Which one should I wear to meet Riddle,” He questioned, gesturing to the two sets of aristocratic robes that lay in front of him, on his four-poster bed. If he showed up in muggle attire Riddle would probably incendio him on the spot.
Adelaide raised an eyebrow teasingly, “Wow, you’re putting a lot of thought into this. You’ve never cared this much about a ‘first’ impression before.”
“Yeah, well this is different,” Harrison replied, feeling his cheeks heating up as if caught in some illicit scheme. “Now, will you please just choose and go change into something fancy, we need to leave for his manor soon.”
Adelaide just hummed as her eyes examined the options, nitpicking every detail.
“The black and green one. It’ll bring out your eyes and show some Slytherin house pride.” She finally decided.
“Alright, thank you, Adelaide!” He exclaimed as she left his bedroom, closing the door with a thud.
⁂
Lord Voldemort sat in his study, on a leather armchair behind his desk. The room was impeccably arranged and precise as that was how it needed to be, he would be having guests over, after all.
His study had always been a very intimate place for him, it was the room that presented his personality the best, aside from his bedroom, of course.
There was a large bookshelf embedded into the wall right across from his desk, showing titles of many muggle books as well as magical. Underneath the bookshelf, he had cabinet spaces for his liquor. Sometimes a good drink was all he needed.
Tom sipped some elfish alcohol from a crystalized liquor glass, waiting for his guests to join him. According to the tempus charm that had been cast, and had not yet been removed was counting down the seconds until Harrison Potter stepped foot into his manor.
He had not seen Harrison clearly since the man’s trial. The trial was brief, due to Harrison proclaiming himself as guilty. Thoughts of the trial surfaced many questions he had harboured for decades.
To this day he couldn’t fathom why he would sacrifice his freedom to save Tom’s own, and Voldemort hated not knowing if that wasn’t obvious. Knowledge was the ultimate power, after all.
He was instantly sprung out of his thoughts when he felt an overwhelmingly dark aura appear into his manor. The aura could’ve rivalled even his own.
Voldemort was instantly alarmed, but a glance at his tempus charm explained the situation.
Harrison Potter had arrived.
⁂
“Lord Voldemort,” He said sleekly, grinning charmingly, “I hope you don’t mind, but I have brought an...ally of mine.” He had no clue what to call Adelaide. His friend?
Teasing therapist? In the end, Harry decided on an ally as the safest choice.
“Not at all, Mr. Potter,” Tom replied evenly, in his rich baritone voice.
He had spent years correcting that particular accent, as his was more of a southern London before coming to Hogwarts and learning that it would most definitely not help
him fit in.
“Shall we proceed with this meeting in my study?” Tom questioned politely, knowing the answer would be agreeing. Harrison was in his domain, his territory. Not an oval headmaster's office where he can just do whatever he wants.
Tom was going to get answers tonight, whether it be politely or violently