The Schemes of an Old Man
-November 23, 1991-
To be honest, Albus never expected to become Minister. The idea, while incredible, was so preposterous, that Albus never even considered it. The whole point of entering the race against Lord Malfoy was not to beat him, but rather to get closer to Voldemort.
And in turn, closer to Harry Potter.
Albus knew that in order to save his fellow wizards from Voldemort’s reign, Albus needed to save Harry Potter from him first. Despite the strange occurrence in the Hall of Prophecies, Albus knew that the prophecy was still in effect. It had to be.
Albus was shocked when Voldemort seemed genuinely surprised about the prophecy. Albus had assumed that Voldemort was keeping little Harry Potter around simply because he was the prophecy child, but Voldemort didn’t react the way Albus thought he would when the prophecy was brought up. He was, dare Albus say it, afraid. (Which seemed ridiculous because Voldemort only feared one thing) Yet, when Albus mentioned Harry Potter, Voldemort’s entire demeanor shifted.
It reminded him of that day in Stonehenge, when Albus’ perspective of Voldemort finally shifted from Tom Riddle, the young child he’d taught, to the Dark Lord Voldemort, an immortal lord whose power rivals his own.
Voldemort was unhealthily possessive of the child---so much so, that Albus feared Harry Potter was nothing more than a possession to him. Albus didn’t know how valuable the child was to Voldemort until he’d been taken, and that was before Albus knew the identity of the Inferius. Once Albus knew it was Harry Potter, he’d changed his plans accordingly. With the child of the prophecy at his disposal, Voldemort’s downfall was imminent.
But Albus wasn’t prepared for the lengths Voldemort would go to get the child back. When Albus was forced to return Harry Potter to him, he had to change his plans once more.
No matter what, Harry Potter was the child of the prophecy, and it was too dangerous for him to remain with Voldemort.
Hence the plan to run for Minister. It was pure luck that Albus was able to speak with Voldemort about the prophecy while the speeches were being given. But Voldemort didn’t respond the way Albus assumed. Instead of the casual indifference that Voldemort portrayed with enemies, at the mention of Harry Potter, Voldemort turned manic and enraged.
And then the prophecy orb shattered and Albus had to change his plans. Again.
No matter, though, because everything was finally going according to his plan.
(Finally.)
With Lucius Malfoy as Minister, Voldemort would feel secure. No doubt, the Dark Lord would assume that Albus was intending to become minister and thus, Voldemort would drop his guard while he waited for Albus to create a new plan. Whilst Voldemort’s defenses were lowered, Albus would send in his trump card to collect Harry Potter and return him to the Light.
Currently, Albus sat in his chair, reclining peacefully as he thought. Beside him, Fawkes trilled happily, and Albus felt his spirits lift at the wondrous song.
Yes, the plan was simple and that’s why it would work so perfectly.
All he had to do now was wait for the perfect moment to strike.
Voldemort breathed in deeply, his eyes closed as he tilted his head back to bask in the warm sun, the fresh air smelling crisp and sweet. It was nice to have a day to relax, especially after yesterday. Now that Lucius was Minister, his plans would need to be adjusted. However, that could wait until tomorrow. Today was for his son.
Speaking of…
Voldemort opened one eye to see Little One standing on his tip-toes, his little arm outstretched as he struggled to pick an apple hanging low on the tree. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. Voldemort smiled fondly at his child and walked over to him and gently plucked the apple from the tree, placing it in his son’s hand.
Little One beamed at him and took a bite out of it. Voldemort fought back a wince, forcibly reminding himself that Little One wasn’t technically alive, so any germs that were on that apple wouldn’t transfer. Still, it bothered him.
“Here precious,” Voldemort said, holding out his hand for the apple. Little One looked at him in confusion for a second before he placed the red fruit on his palm. Voldemort quickly whispered a cleaning charm before he handed it back to the Inferius. “There you are. Tell me, does it taste good?”
In response, Little One thrust the gummy apple into his face. Voldemort reared back, trying to avoid the slobber covered apple, but it was too late. Voldemort wiped the spit off his cheek and mimed the action of taking a bite. His face lit up in joy and nodded. “Oh yes, very delicious dear heart,” Voldemort said, handing the apple back. As much as he loved his son, Voldemort didn’t appreciate the idea of eating a fruit covered in his spit. “Thank you.”
Little One smiled at him once more and continued to eat the apple. Voldemort slowly eased himself onto the ground and leaned back against the apple tree. Voldemort sat there, silently enjoying his son’s company as the leaves rustled against the wind.
When Little One finished his apple he stood and waved at Voldemort before he ran off towards a flower plot a few feet ahead of them. Voldemort sighed fondly, vanishing the apple core that lay forgotten in the grass.
Voldemort watched from the shade as Little One collected handfuls of flowers and began braiding them into a flower chain. From the corner of his eye, Voldemort sees Nagini slithering towards them.
“Nagini,” Voldemort hisses, calling the giant snake’s attention. “Tell me. How did they behave in my absence?”
Nagini coiled herself near Voldemort, letting most of her body rest in the direct sunlight. “They made flower crownsss Massster,” Nagini said, no explanation needed for her to understand what he was speaking of. “I did not need to bite. Ssshame. I wanted to bite.”
Voldemort chuckled. “Good. I sssuppossse I won’t punisssh them. Thisss time.”
“Sssnake-Momma!” Little One hissed, his voice only slightly louder than a whisper with excitement. Little One hefted the foot-long chain of flowers into his arms as he skipped over to where the pair sat.
“Hatchling!” Nagini hissed, lifting her head from the grass so that Little One could begin wrapping the flower chain around her.
“Play with me?” Little One asked, winding the chain of flowers down her back.
“Stay where I can see you.” Voldemort reminded the toddler. The last thing Voldemort wanted was for the Inferius to wander off. He wouldn’t get lost, but after everything that had happened recently, Voldemort was wary to let Little One be by himself.
Little One nodded and together, he and Nagini moved over towards the flower beds. From his position under the apple tree, Voldemort could see Little One shifting through the flower bed (Voldemort refused to think about the state of his clothes), with Nagini following close behind him.
Satisfied that Little One was safe for the moment, Voldemort summoned the book that he had been reading yesterday. With Omens and Deities of Magic in hand, Voldemort relaxed against the rough bark of the apple tree behind him and opened the book.
Voldemort began flipping through the pages before he found the page he’d been reading just before he’d been interrupted.
It is believed that countless deities reside within Mother Magic’s domain. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Where Magic is believed to be the True Power, magic-users throughout the centuries paid their respects to the other forces of nature. They would make sacrifices and rituals that honored the Deity, and in return, strengthened their magic. There are hundreds of deities that were worshipped throughout time, but the most common were that of the Four: Lady Magic, Lady Fate, Lady Life, and Lord Death.
Lady Magic is known as the avatar of magic. She is often referred to as Mother Magic’s daughter, for she acts as the bridge between Mother Magic and Wizard Kind. Without Lady Magic, the magicks of the Mother would never reach us. She is at her most powerful during the Summer Solstice, while the after-effects of Lady Life is still present.
Lady Fate is the most mysterious deity, and arguably the most powerful. All descriptions of her compare her to that of an old woman playing chess. She enters the mortal realm during every Winter Solstice for the Tying of the Threads, a ritual performed yearly to cement Lady Fate’s path for every magical being.
Lady Life is the warmest deity, often appearing in rituals and summonings. Her appearance is described as a young teen girl who provides miracles when summoned. She is at her most powerful during the Spring Equinox, where she provides life to the planet.
Lord Death is the most powerful deity, as he draws his power from death as well as controls the death of every living thing. He is known as the prankster of the Four, and often slips into the mortal realm and pretends to be mortal for a short period of time. He is also the only deity with a Master---
Voldemort looked up when he heard a sharp gasp. His eyes instantly find Little One who is standing frozen at the edge of a pond. Voldemort tosses the book to the ground in his haste to get to his child. Was Little One about to fall into the pond?
“Precious? What is it?” Voldemort asked, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger.
“Papa! Papa look!” Little One whispers, his emerald eyes bright with excitement as he points at his feet.
Voldemort follows the direction with his eyes to see a duckling resting at his feet. It is very young, clearly just hatched. No more than a day old at best. Voldemort narrows his eyes when he sees the duckling has a cleft palate and that one of his feet is slightly shorter than the other. There is no sign of the duckling’s mother or siblings.
“The mother must have abandoned it,” Voldemort says softly. “The thing couldn’t keep up with the group.”
Little One let out a horrified gasp. “He all alone?” Little One asked, his eyes wide.
“Yes, dear,” Voldemort said. “He’ll probably die in a few days without his mother to care for him.”
Little One’s eyes widened further for a moment before they set in a determined stare. Voldemort felt his stomach drop at the sight. Oh no…
Little One bent down and gently cradled the duckling into his arms, one finger coming up to gently stroke the soft yellow feathers. Oh no…
Little One held the duckling up to his face and began to lightly nuzzle the duckling, who, in turn, began to chirp softly and nuzzle back. Oh no…
“Little One…” Voldemort started slowly. “He’s… he’s dirty. Sweetheart…”
“We keep him.” Little One said, his emerald eyes traveling from the swaddled duckling to Voldemort’s face.
Son of a bitch.
“Darling,” Voldemort said carefully, wracking his brain as he tried to come up with a reason why they couldn’t keep the mangy thing. “He’s very dirty. He wasn’t developed properly. It’s best to just put him out of his misery---”
“No! No! No!” Little One cried vehemently, shaking his head violently as he stepped away from Voldemort, clutching the little duckling closer. “We keep him!”
“Little One.” Voldemort said firmly. “We are not keeping that thing. Now, put it down.”
Little One stared at him, and Voldemort watched with bated breath to see it Little One would listen to him. Just as he could see Little One’s resolve crumbling, the duckling chirped again and nuzzled Little One’s hand. Damn. Little One’s eyes hardened.
“No. We keep him.”
“Little One, please, put him down. We can’t keep a duck in the castle---”
“Papa! No!” Little One whined, and Voldemort felt his chest clench at the sight of tears welling up in his precious’ eyes. Giant tears began to sluggishly trail down Little One’s reddening cheeks, his eyebrows furrowed into a mean glare. “He… He… per’fect! He not… He not bad…”
Voldemort sighed. “You’re right, the ducking is not bad. He just didn’t come out right, is all.” Voldemort placated. “And who knows, maybe the mother will come back for him?” Not likely. “So why don’t you just put him down so that his mom can find him, yes?”
Little One shook his head and Voldemort watched with wide eyes as his docile child began to throw a tantrum. Ugly sobs escaped his lips as snot began to pour out of his nose. Little One stomped his foot against the ground, splashing mud onto his shoes and the hem of Voldemort’s robes.
“Papa… Papa no…” Little One sobbed. “We keep him!”
Voldemort breathed in deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Do not give in.
“Little One…”
“We keep him! Papa!”
You can’t have a duck in the castle. Do not give in.
“Little One put that thing down.”
“No! P’wease! Papa we keep him!”
Do not give in.
“Papa…”
Son of a bitch.
“Fine.” Voldemort said softly, blowing out a harsh breath of air. “You can keep the thing.”
Like a switch that had been turned off, the tears instantly stopped, and in its place, a giant smile. “Thank ‘oo, Papa.” Little One said happily, pressing tiny kisses all over the muddy duckling. Voldemort cringed at the sight of mud and snot mixing together to form a horrendous crust all over his son’s---and the duckling’s---face.
“Of course dearest,” Voldemort said. “Anything for you.”
And it was true. Voldemort knew he would have a lot of work to do, but hopefully, Little One would tire of the duckling after a few days, and Voldemort would be able to get rid of it. The duckling would have to stay in Little One’s room---good thing there was a pond in his room already.
With that problem solved, Voldemort decided it was time to go back inside and give his rebellious child a bath. (Somehow, Voldemort knew that the new duckling would join him) At his side, Nagini hissed complaints about the duckling that would be joining them.
Maybe, after Little One grew tired of the duckling, Nagini would appreciate the snack.
“Come Little One,” Voldemort said, gesturing for his child to follow him. “I think it’s time for a bath.”
Little One nodded and skipped over to him. Little One cooed over the duckling as they walked, and Voldemort very pointedly looked away from his son’s dirty clothes.
“What will you name the duckling, dear heart?” Voldemort asked.
Little One was silent for a moment as he thought before he said cheerfully, “Larry!”
Voldemort sighed, resisting the urge to smack his forehead.
“Of course it is.”
He walked through the forest calmly, letting the light of the crescent moon guide him. Under the pale light, the trees and shrubbery stood out in a tinted green, adding to the eerie feeling. He paid no mind to the crunching leaves and twigs that snapped beneath his bare feet.
In the distance, a black castle stood out against the horizon.
He smirks, amber eyes flashing in the dark. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Wonder what I’ve missed.”