An Intruder
-November 24, 1991-
After a long day spent playing with his son, wrestling said child into a bath (with a new duckling as well), and then reading two bedtime stories---one for Little One and one for Larry---Voldemort was perfectly content to slip into his bed and fall asleep. His bed was plush and soft, and Voldemort’s head sunk into his pillow and relax.
Voldemort didn’t dream often. He didn’t know why, but dreams didn’t happen to him, and if they did, it was just a short burst of colors. He’d never had a vivid dream before, which was why he knew instantly that he wasn’t dreaming.
He was standing in the same blank emptiness as before, and Voldemort whirled around, his eyes widening as he recognized the vast barrenness. His breath misted in front of his face, each puff of air turning into white clouds that danced around his head before disappearing. Voldemort narrows his eyes at the mist before his entire body stiffens.
Just like before, Voldemort can feel it. The strange presence. He can feel the tension rise the longer the silence continues. He snaps his head to the left where he feels the presence and snarls when he sees nothing but the continued emptiness.
“Show yourself!” Voldemort demands. “Who are you! Why am I here?”
Voldemort rears back in shock, however, when the emptiness changes. Shadows that spawned from nowhere seemed to be bleeding out of the edges of the nothingness. The shadows quivered and trembled as they twisted together into a humanoid figure. Voldemort hadn’t expected his demand to work, as it didn’t work last time.
The humanoid figure wears a muggle three-piece suit, the suit jacket unbuttoned. Voldemort sniffs at the formal muggle wear, mildly offended that a clearly magical being would wear something so undignified. The shadows blended into the figure, making him fuzzy and hard to see---his face completely blurred out. Despite this, Voldemort can clearly see the smile that stretches across the being’s face.
“Who are you?” Voldemort demands, his eyes narrowed as they tried to make out the figure’s features. “What is this place? Why have you brought me here?”
“My, my, so many questions.” it says, and Voldemort bristles at the condescending tone. How dare this… this thing speak to him that way?
“Do you know who I am?” Voldemort drawls, raising an eyebrow at the being. His tone doesn’t even begin to hide how irritated he is. This is the second time this being has abducted him and forced him into this strange realm. “How dare---”
“My Dear Sister prizes you,” the being spoke, stopping Voldemort mid-rant. (Which only furthered Voldemort’s rage.) “I haven’t the faintest as to why, you're arrogant and rude. You have this air of self-importance that is truly unflattering…” Voldemort snarled at the faceless being in front of him, his fingers inching towards his non-existent wand with the desire to curse the thing into oblivion. “But hearing you speak, the confidence you exude that matches your truly… delicious magical power… Seeing your eyes light up with fury, truly that is a masterpiece… Seeing you.”
The faceless being eyed him up and down and for some reason, Voldemort felt the faintest hint of bashfulness. Never before had Voldemort felt so exposed, the being’s strange reaction to him making Voldemort feel almost shy---
“What are you?” Voldemort said flatly, forcibly rejecting his earlier thoughts. He was above such pathetic feelings, and he refused to show this being how it affected him. “What do you want with me?”
“I am beginning to see why she believes you to be one of her best creations.” the being continued, ignoring the questions Voldemort had just demanded of it. Despite not having any eyes, Voldemort could practically feel the way the being leered at him. Voldemort had never felt so… uneasy before. He struggled to maintain his indifferent mask, but judging from the being’s amused face, his discomfort was noticed. “No need to be so uneasy, I won’t hurt you.”
Voldemort raised an eyebrow, a deadpanned remark escaping his lips. “Really?”
“Quite. Something about you… something about you just draws me in. I haven’t felt like this before, and I’m curious to see where it goes.”
Voldemort frowns at it, mildly confused at the strange wording. “Where what goes?”
The being chuckled, a strange raspy noise. His voice echoed like that of thousands of voices overlapping, and the chuckle sounded eerie and broken against the blank nothingness. “I’m not quite sure.”
“Well thank you,” Voldemort said sarcastically. “This has been incredibly helpful.”
The being let out a full-blown laugh this time, the sound just as grating as the first time, and Voldemort felt so disoriented at the overlapping voices---female and male---echoing all around the vast nothingness that he stood in. “I suppose it wasn’t for you, but for me… This has been incredibly enlightening.”
Voldemort would have huffed, but he refused to appear undignified in front of this thing. “Well please, enlighten me. We can’t all be nameless, faceless things.”
“You wound me, my dear, truly you do,” the thing purred, and Voldemort could practically feel the being’s amusement. “Does it bother you? Not being able to see me? Not being able to see me the way I see you?”
Voldemort bristled. “You might see me, but you don’t know me.”
“I’m afraid that’s true,” the being mused. “It is something I intend to change.”
“You are acting differently,” Voldemort said, choosing to ignore the being’s previous words. The being said nothing about Voldemort’s sudden change in topic. “Last time we spoke you were rather accusatory.”
“Did I hurt your feelings, my dear? My deepest apologies.”
“I was not hurt!” Voldemort snapped, finally losing his composure. “I was simply asking you what changed!”
“I had a very interesting conversation with my Dear Sister,” the being said after a beat of silence. “It has cleared up quite a bit.”
“I see.” Voldemort said slowly, his crimson eyes flickering up and down as they struggled to focus on the hazy figure. The fuzziness of the being was beginning to give him a headache. “Would you care to answer my questions, then?”
“That would ruin all my fun,” the being said, a dangerously playful tone bleeding into his words. “And we can’t have that, can we, my dear?”
Voldemort stood in silence then, unsure of how to continue. The being finally broke it by coming closer. Suddenly, the fuzzy being morphed into a shape that Voldemort could perceive. His eyes widened at the handsome man that stood before him, with black hair that seemed to fade into nothingness as his shoulders and eyes that seemed to glow like that of the killing curse. “Until you dream again, my Dear Immortal Lord.” the being said, his voice no longer overlapped, before pressing a kiss to his temple. It then paused for a moment before saying with a crooked grin, "Or perhaps I may visit you sooner."
Voldemort woke with a start in his bedroom, his eyes looking around for a sign of the being and found none.
“What… the actual hell was that?”
Little One went to sleep feeling super happy.
Papa let him keep Larry and Larry was Little One’s new best friend! Snake-Momma and Larry didn’t get along yet, but Little One knew that after they got used to each other, Snake-Momma would be happy to play knights with Larry and him all the time!
Little One and Larry played during bath time, and Little One was happy to introduce Larry to his rubber ducky. Larry and Sir Squeaky (that was the name of his rubber ducky) played battle with Little One as they fought to sink all of Little One’s toy boats. Even Papa joined in on the fun---though, he had a funny expression on his face when Larry jumped on his head, so maybe Papa was feeling a little sick.
After bath time, Papa read Little One his favorite bedtime story (the story of how Papa saved the world!). Papa was just about to give Little One his good night kiss when Little One reminded Papa that Larry needed a bedtime story too! Silly Papa, always forgetting about Larry. Little One knew it was because Larry was new, and once Papa got used to Larry, he wouldn’t forget about him anymore.
Papa read Larry a bedtime story too, and Little One had to remind Papa that Larry needed his good night kiss, or the duckling might not be able to fall asleep. Papa’s face did that funny thing again like it did during bath time, but he gave Larry his good night kiss anyway. Then Papa checked under the bed for monsters before Papa said night-night.
Little One cuddled up to Larry, the duckling nuzzling against Little One’s face, and Little One closed his eyes and fell asleep to the sounds of the breeze rustling the leaves of his oak tree, and the comforting weight of Larry resting on his shoulder.
Yes, Little One fell asleep feeling happy.
But Little One awoke to the overwhelming feeling of wrongness.
His eyes snapped open, and Little One could feel it in the air: something wasn’t right. His eyes traveled through his room, searching for whatever was making Little One feel so uneasy, but he saw nothing. At this point, Little One knew that something wasn’t right, and he knew that the only person who could fix it was Papa.
Little One slowly began to crawl out of his bed, making sure that Larry slept peacefully in his blankets. When Larry was covered in blankets and sufficiently protected from the wrongness, Little One began walking to the door.
The warm grass tickled his bare feet as he walked, but Little One didn’t have time to play with the grass, didn’t have time to bury his toes in the dirt and pretend they were missing. Little One needed to find Papa and have him fix the wrongness.
The door creaked as Little One pushed it open, his eyes wide as they scoured the hallway. Little One cautiously stepped out of the safety of his bedroom, but just as he was about to open the door to Papa’s room, a shadowy figure opened the door for him and stepped out. Little One froze where he stood, his emerald eyes widening further as they stared at the shadowy figure standing by the door to Papa’s room.
The shadowy figure must’ve seen him, as the figure started making it’s way towards Little One. Little One is frozen in place as the figure approaches him. Before Little One can start to get really scared, a strong sense of familiarity washes over him.
It’s impossible, but Little One feels like he knows this shadowy figure from somewhere.
The figure leans down and Little One feels a phantom kiss being placed on his forehead, right where Papa gave him his good night kiss earlier. Little One feels warm and soft inside his tummy when the figure kisses him, like the shadowy figure is safe.
Then, without saying a word, the shadowy figure turns and begins to walk down the hall. Little One lets out a soft whine when he realizes the figure is leaving him and he starts to follow after the figure, completely forgetting about the reason why he was awake in the first place.
Completely forgetting about the wrongness.
Little One follows after the figure, his bare feet slapping against the hard floors of the castle. Little One tries to catch up with the figure, who seems to be farther and farther away, but he just can’t keep up with him. Little One follows the shadowy figure all throughout the castle until he can’t see it anymore.
Little One is in the common room, spinning around in circles searching for the figure when he bumps into a strong and sturdy leg.
Little One freezes and slowly turns around to see a dark figure staring at him. Little One knows it isn’t the shadowy figure from before because he doesn’t feel safe anymore. Instead of the warm happy feeling in his tummy, Little One feels dread pool in the bottom of his chest, and the overwhelming feeling of wrongness returns tenfold.
The man grins, and Little One whimpers as the fangs reflect off the moonlight filtering in through the windows. This man is scary and Little One is afraid.
Little One wants his Papa.
A tiny, fearful whimper escapes his lips as the scary man leans forward and lifts him by the back of his shirt. Little One can feel the fear buildup in his chest, and his hands start to tremble, the image of the scary man blurring as his eyes fill with tears. Is the scary man going to hurt him like the bad man? Is the scary man going to hurt him like Uncle Vernon?
Papa! Little One needs Papa! Papa will make it all better and protect him from the scary man!
Little One begins to wriggle in earnest, trying but failing to escape the scary man’s grip. The scary man lets out a warning growl that freezes Little One in place. Little One closes his eyes as he prepares for the pain he felt when the bad man and Uncle Vernon hurt him.
“You have one second to put him down before I crucio you to insanity.” a cold voice cuts across the tense silence.
Little One lets out a relieved gasp at the familiar voice of his Papa. Papa! Papa is here to save Little One from the scary man! Suddenly, the dark castle is bright with lights, and Little One is able to see the figure holding him clearly. He is tall with long black hair and a scruffy beard. His piercing blue eyes widen at the figure behind him and he smirks.
“‘Ello, My Lord.” the figure says.
Papa lets out a tired sigh. “Hello, Greyback.”
MORE BEAUTIFUL FAN ART!!!! (you guys are spoiling me :>) Credit to Royal_rose2020 on Wattpad for this art