Momentous Change by Eilime
Summary: It’s Harry’s last year at Hogwarts and as he has already expected – with experience in having troublesome adventures before – this year is going to be a year full of surprises. Voldemort has a plan! Chocolate frogs, ambiguous but semantic evil schemes, ominous word games, a succinct letter, incongruous French lecture, inexcusable slovenliness, birds and bees with eloquence, intolerable impatience and something goes terribly wrong… Now complete

Excerpt: Harry woke up with a start. He couldn't remember what he had dreamt about, but he knew it hadn't been a good dream - sweat made his hair cling to his forehead and his pyjamas clung to his body like a homeless person would cling on to a lamp post in a hurricane.
Categories: Humor Fics Characters: None
Warnings: Alternate Universe
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 6 Completed: Yes Word count: 23892 Read: 18645 Published: 05/22/05 Updated: 09/18/06

1. I Spy by Eilime

2. Booh! by Eilime

3. Twister by Eilime

4. Interrogation by Eilime

5. Rematch by Eilime

6. Harry Reloaded by Eilime

I Spy by Eilime
MOMENTOUS CHANGE

CHAPTER I
I SPY



Harry Potter was an unusual boy.

“That about sums it up,” JK said to herself and looked happily at her introduction.



Harry was walking from the library”where he had studied about the Purdkins for his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay”to Gryffindor Tower. He dragged himself along the many corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and after what seemed like several hours, he found himself in front of the Fat Lady.

“Snoutcod” he said dully.

“Indeed,” the Fat Lady agreed and let him pass.

Harry entered the common room where he found Ron and Hermione in one of their endless rows.

“That’s NOT the point!” Hermione cried, pointing her index finger at Ron, whose face was the same colour as his hair.

“I don’t care! I can bring it up if I want to!” he bellowed.

“What are you arguing about now?” Harry asked, not really sure if he wanted to get into this little disagreement of whatever sort it might be.

“Hermione has brought ignominy to her family name!” Ron answered angrily.

“How?” Harry asked.

“She… She… SHE!” Ron shouted, pointing at Hermione, “Has disgraced herself!”

“Yes, I heard that, Ron. But how?” Harry asked again.

“I can’t even tell you how,” Ron muttered grumpily and slumped into an armchair by the fireplace.

Harry looked at Hermione for answers. She sighed and said, “I met Malfoy in Hyde Park just before we began this school year. And well… apparently a choir of little Catholic school girls walked by and saw us snogging under a bench.”

A pause.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on the spot.

Hermione continued, “And apparently one of the girls was Ron’s cousin and he just happened to be in the vicinity….” she trailed off.

“Hermione…”

Hermione turned to look at Ron, who had now stood up and walked over to her while saying her name. “Hermione,” he repeated. “I wasn’t yelling at you for that. It was because you took the last chocolate frog.”



Dumbledore was pacing his office. Professors McGonagall, Sprouch and Flitwick were standing nearby, watching his every move. After five minutes of Dumbledore’s presumably continuing pacing, professor McGonagall carefully asked, “Have you decided yet, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore looked up at her with a very concerned look. It was clear to the other professors that this decision was taking a lot of energy out of the elderly Headmaster. But he, nevertheless, managed to smile and got out of the hole he had produced in the floor by his pacing.

“Yes, Minerva, I have,” he answered slowly. He walked behind his desk and sat down, facing the three nervous-looking professors. He put his long fingers together and closed his eyes.

“Yes?” professor McGonagall urged him.

Dumbledore looked up at them and they all straightened their backs, ready for whatever response he would bring them. Slowly, oh so slowly, Dumbledore opened his mouth and said, “A chocolate frog, please.”



“We have a plan,” Lord Voldemort declared, looking around at his Death Eaters, who stood in a half-moon opposite him.

“We have?” Peter Pettigrew asked nervously.

“No, Wormtail, you haven’t “ we have,” Voldemort corrected.

“I do not understand, my lord,” Pettigrew whimpered. “I do not recall-”

“Wormtail!” Voldemort bellowed. “When I say ‘we’, I speak of myself, you insignificant little twerp. I have decided to speak of myself in first person plural since it gives my appearance extra superiority.”

“But of course, master,” Pettigrew whispered with his head almost touching his knees in a very low bow.

“Good,” Voldemort said and removed his cat-like eyes to look over the rest of the Death Eaters. “On to the plan!”



“Well, since that’s settled, I have to go now,” Harry said, turned his back to Hermione and Ron, and walked over to the portrait hole.

“Where are you going, Harry?” Ron asked.

“Detention with Snape,” Harry growled.

“I feel with you, mate.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry replied. After giving his two best friends a long and most deserved sigh, Harry proceeded through the portrait hole.

He walked down the many stairs from Gryffindor Tower on the seventh floor and all the way down to the dungeons. He walked alongside a cold stone wall with torches flickering against the light wind that blew in through a small windpipe in the ceiling. As he approached Snape’s office door, he heard a sound”very much alike someone humming. Harry opened the door to Snape’s office and stepped soundlessly inside. Now the humming sound was clearer and when Harry proceeded through the next door in the office, he saw Snape with his back against Harry, leaning over a desk, humming. Harry couldn’t recognize the melody at first, but then Snape broke into song.

“Ooh, What you want
Ooh, Baby, I got
Ooh, What you need
Ooh, Do you know I got it?
Ooh, All I'm askin'
Ooh, Is for a little respect when you come home, just a little bit
Hey, baby, when you get home,
just a little bit, mister, just a little bit

R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Find out what it means to me
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Take care, TCB
Oh, sock it to me, sock it to me,
sock it to me, sock it-”

Snape had turned around, wanting to break out in the dance Trelawney had taught him, but stopped dead at the sight of Harry.

“P-Potter,” he stammered.

“Sorry, professor, didn’t mean to disturb…” Harry trailed off, looking strangely at Snape.

Snape let out a small cough. “Yes, well…” he replied, putting down a piece of parchment which, Harry presumed, contained song lyrics. “Let’s return to my office, shall we?” he finished and went out of the back room after Harry.



Voldemort paced back and forth in front of his Death Eaters. The first thing he decided upon, was to stop speaking of himself in first person plural since he wasn’t good at keeping it up. The next thing he thought about was his master plan. After several minutes of Voldemort’s pacing”in which he had not revealed his plan yet”Nott took a small step forward and said with a shaking voice, “Master?”

“What?” Voldemort snapped, not removing his eyes from the floor.

“If you please, sir,” Nott began, “I would like to ask for permission to withdraw since I have a small party to go to. Not that I do not enjoy watching you elegantly pace these beautiful mahogany floors, while obviously planning a most vicious and brilliant plan, but it is my nephew’s birthday…” he trailed off. “So, is it possible for me to go, my lord?” he finished.

“What do you think?” Voldemort asked, now piercing his eyes into Nott’s, which made Nott flinch.

“Of course, master, how stupid of me…” Nott bowed and returned to his place in the Death Eaters’ circle.

“No, no, Nott,” Voldemort said and furrowed his ‘eyebrows’ at how strange those three words sounded together. “I meant that you may of course take your leave. I just have one question…”

“Yes, master?” asked Nott, who looked extremely astonished that he had got permission to go.

“Can I come?”

Nott looked a little taken aback.

“It’s been a while since I’ve gone to a birthday party,” Voldemort continued. “Is there going to be a clown?”

“Erm, no, my lord,” Nott responded, bowing once again. “My nephew is turning eighteen.”

“Pity…” Voldemort replied. “Well, off you go, Nott. Be sure to murder and harass some Muggles on your way.” Nott nodded and disappeared through the door. “As for the rest of you”you’ll stay here and listen to my most brilliant plan to date!” Voldemort cried, happily clapping his hands together.

There was a loud groan amongst the Death Eaters.



“How was detention with Snape, Harry?” Hermione asked as Harry joined them at the dinner table.

“Boring,” Harry answered. Snape had used the Obliviate curse on Harry so he could not remember what happened in Snape’s back room before the detention started.

“Harry, Hermione’s just found out there’s a Hogmeade weekend next week!” Ron exclaimed.

“Sounds great,” Harry responded happily and ate some mashed potatoes.

“What’s this? Mail at dinner?” Hermione asked curiously, looking up.

Harry followed her eyes, looked up, and saw an owl swoop gently toward Gryffindor table. It landed elegantly in front of Harry, who took the letter off it’s leg, and the owl took off. On the envelope, Harry saw his name written with a beautiful silver handwriting which he did not recognize.

“Open it,” Ron encouraged him.

Harry turned it around, opened it, and unfolded the letter.

Dear monsieur Harry Potter,

I much enjoyed my stay at Hogwarts, which is now three years ago, and therefore I have decided to come and pay you a visit. If you do not mind, that is. I look forward to your response, and say hello to Ron for me.

Grosses bises,
Mademoiselle Fleur Delacour

Harry was speechless. “Who’s it from?” asked Hermione, who had been eyeing him all through his reading.

“Fleur,” Harry responded in a barely audible voice.

“Fleur?” Ron asked, wide-eyed. “Fleur Delacour?!”

Harry nodded and shoved the letter over to Ron and Hermione, who sat closer to each other so they could read it at the same time.

“Cool,” was all Ron could say afterwards.

“Her writing is much better than her pronunciation was,” Hermione pointed out.

“Who cares?” Harry and Ron replied in unison.



“I spy with my little eye…”

The Death Eaters awaited Voldemort’s continuation.

Alas, they waited in vein.

“Yes, master?” McNair urged him.

“LET ME FINISH!” Voldemort bellowed.

McNair crumbled back into the row of Death Eaters and stood oh so still as not to disturb his master further.

“I spy with my little eye… something that is dark-haired,” Voldemort finished with S-A-T-I-S-F-A-C-T-I-O-N written across his forehead.

The Death Eaters glared at him blankly.

“Another clue?” Voldemort drawled. The Death Eaters nodded in mortification. “Very well…” Voldemort let out a huge disappointed sigh and then began, “I spy with my little eye… something that is dark-haired and wears glasses.”

A lonesome cricket could be heard in the distance.

“Oh, dear,” Voldemort uttered and threw his hands up in the air in despair.

“Master!”

“Yes, Crabbe?” Voldemort leered.

“Dumbledore,” Crabbe said with a tad of pride in his voice.

“Dumbledore?” Voldemort replied. “DUMBLEDORE?! Does Dumbledore have dark hair and glasses?!”

“He does have glasses, my lord,” McNair pointed out.

“OUT!” Voldemort bellowed, and McNair crawled out of the door that Voldemort was furiously pointing at. “Crabbe…” Voldemort began, now more calmly, and turned his head to the wizard standing just a little out of the circle of Death Eaters. “As Dumbledore’s hairdresser, I can not see how you could ASSUME I was speaking of Dumbledore. You, as well as the whole wizarding world, know his famous long white beard!”

“Yes, master. Of course, master,” Crabbe replied and bowed twice before returning to his place amongst the other Death Eaters.

“Maybe I should grow a long white beard to be recognized, too,” Voldemort mumbled, tapping his index finger on his lipless mouth.

“You, my lord, are indeed recognisable just as you are,” Goyle put in.

“OUT!”

Goyle crawled utterly ashamed out of the same door as McNair had gone through only moments before.

“Where was I? Ah, yes,” Voldemort said and returned to his position in the middle of the half-moon circle of Death Eaters. “I spy with my little eye...” Once again a groan escaped the Death Eaters’ mouths. Voldemort let out a little cough and continued, eyeing them wickedly, “…with my little eye... something that is dark-haired, wears glasses AND has a scar on his forehead the shape of a lightning!”

The lonesome cricket could be heard once again.

“Oh, why do I even bother?” Voldemort sobbed.

*


After wiping the tears off his bony cheeks, Voldemort positioned himself in the middle of the half-moon circle once again. “Ahem… Seeing that none of you have any brains left after the bikiniwaxes you so desperately wanted…” Voldemort trailed off. The Death Eaters looked as if their eyes could pop out any second. “I was just kidding!” Voldemort exclaimed.

All the Death Eaters laughed except Lucius Malfoy, who looked strangely uncomfortable.

“As I was saying!” Voldemort said sternly, making the Death Eaters stop laughing, “Since you have lost your brains”maybe not because of that particular reason previously mentioned”I just have to cut it out in cardboard.” Voldemort let out another sigh of disappointment. “The person I was ‘spying with my little eye’ was none other than the famous Harry Potter!”

“I knew that-”

“Of course, master-”

“Brilliant, I shall-”

“Yes, yes,” Voldemort replied, waving his hands to make them quiet. “Yes, of course you all knew that was what I meant… you insufferable lot of nitwits!”

The Death Eaters stirred uncomfortably on the spot and looked nervously up at their master.

“The interesting part is,” Voldemort began and the Death Eaters made a sound as if they hadn’t even expected an interesting part, and they suddenly stood upright, listening intently. “I spy with my little eye…” The Death Eaters immediately stooped down again. “Ahem… with my little eye… a Hogsmeade weekend!”

*


“A Hogsmeade weekend, my lord?” Pettigrew asked nervously.

“Yes, Wormtail, yes!” Voldemort bellowed as if saying ‘Hogmeade weekend’ out of nowhere was the simplest thing in the world. “A-weekend-to-the-village-Hogsmeade-for-students-from-Hogwarts-School-of-Witchcraft-and-Wizardry!” Voldemort said slowly so that Pettigrew could not miss any words of this unbelievably wise sentence.

Pettigrew still looked confused which made Voldemort bellow, “Do you not understand English anymore, Wormtail?! Do you want me to repeat it in French? Okay! Un week-end à l’hameau, Hogsmeade, pour les étudiants de l’école d’Hogwarts de Sorcellerie et Sorbier!”

“If you please, my lord,” Lucius whispered. “I think you mistook ‘wizardry’ for a rowan tree.”

“That’s beside the point!” Voldemort bellowed.



Harry woke up with a start. He couldn’t remember what he had dreamt about, but he knew it hadn’t been a good dream”sweat made his hair cling to his forehead and his pyjamas clung to his body like a homeless person would cling on to a lamp post in a hurricane.

He got up and walked into the bathroom where he took a cold shower. Letting the chilly water run down his body made his mind wander. But where to, he did not know.

Voldemort. No, wait… Well, it does look like him but it can’t be “ this bloke is speaking French.

Who said anything about rowan trees?

Cold water suddenly burst through Harry’s thoughts. For a moment he was sure that he had just had a vision of Voldemort again. Usually there were some evil schemes floating around in the air in these dreams or visions, but this time there was a French version of Voldemort, talking about rowan trees.

Harry shrugged it off and went into the boys’ dormitory to get dressed. Ron was up when he came back.

“Morning, mate,” he greeted Harry. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” Harry responded.

*


At the breakfast table they sat down opposite Hermione, who was very much interested in her book. Harry immediately recognized it to be Hogwarts; A History because he had seen her read it so many times. He poured some pumpkin juice into his goblet and turned to Ron, “What’s our first lesson today?” he asked.

“History of Magic,” Ron drawled. “By the way, Harry, I’ve decided to take Muggle Studies instead of Divination.”

“What?! You can’t just leave me in that tower with that nutcase!” Harry argued.

“You can just transfer to Muggle Studies, too,” Ron suggested.

“Ron, I live with Muggles,” Harry pointed out. “I know enough about them.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Ron grinned.

“Come on,” Hermione suddenly cut in, “we have to go to History of Magic.”



“AS I WAS SAYING!” Voldemort bellowed once again, trying to rid himself of the humility of speaking incorrect French. “I spy with my little eye a Hogsmeade weekend. Indeed, I do. It MEANS…” he trailed off, looking from Death Eater to Death Eater. The prospect of finally knowing what all the ‘I spy’ and the French side track were leading to, the Death Eaters suddenly awoke from their slumbering state.

“Which means…” Voldemort repeated with a bittersweet voice, “that young Harry will be out of Hogwarts grounds. And then we will…?” he asked.

“Go after him and kill him!” Rockwood yelled with glee.

“Yeah!” Lestrange agreed.

“Potter’s going down, dude!” Lucius blended in.

“NO, YOU IMBECILES!” Voldemort bellowed which made all the Death Eaters stop in half-yell and look at him blankly. “I need him!”

The Death Eaters gave him very curious looks.

“Not need him like that!” Voldemort nervously added in a hurry.



“So, when’s Fleur coming?” Hermione asked, rather uninterested in the subject. But she had been brought up to be polite.

“Friday afternoon,” Harry answered. “And since that’s the Hogsmeade weekend, I thought we could get up early the next morning and all go together.”

“I agree with you on the all go together-part,” Ron said, “but not the get up early-part.”

“Okay,” Harry grinned. “You, Hermione?”

“Sounds absolutely smashing!” she exclaimed a little too eagerly. Harry eyed her suspiciously.



“What I mean,” Voldemort continued after a mall cough to clear the embarrassing situation he found himself in, “is that I need Harry Potter for my most vicious, extreme, horrifying, wicked, evil, bad, vicious-”

“You said vicious…” Rockwood pointed out.

“OUT!”

Rockwood ran, sniffing, out of the room.

“…my most evil, bad, vicious plan to date!” Voldemort finished with an evil smile.

“Indeed, sir?” Lucius asked.

“Indeed, Lucius,” Voldemort nodded in satisfaction.

“What, may I ask, is the plan about?” Lucius asked.

“A just question, my nonentity,” Voldemort replied, putting his hands together on his back and continuing his pacing. “We will”and now when I say we, I do not only mean myself”catch dear Harry in Hogsmeade-”

“Ooohh…!”

“Yes, indeed, Lestrange,” Voldemort sneered. “We will capture him, return him here, where we will cut a great deal of his hair off.”

The remaining Death Eaters”the ones who had not yet been kicked out”stared blankly at their master. Lucius opened his mouth to speak but was cut off. “IN ADDITION,” Voldemort continued, “we will also cut off some of my hair and we will make a Polyjuice Potion. Harry and I will switch places, continually drinking the potion. As the boy will become me out of appearance”and you will of course know that he isn’t the real me”he will have to stay here where you can keep an eye on him. While I,” Voldemort said proudly, expanding his chest to the fullest, “I will return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and turn everything around! To translate: This is my mission to get control of the whole UNIVERSE!” he exclaimed viciously, throwing his arms excitedly to each side. “Ahem… well maybe just the Earth,” he added, crumbling his toes nervously in his shoes.

*


“Well?” Voldemort began after a few minutes of silence. “Why aren’t you applauding?”

Instantly, applause broke out in the dark room of the Riddle House, where their I’ve-got-a-vicious-plan meetings were held.

Voldemort seemed pleased with this and sat down in his chair, exhausted after his long energy-taking speech. “Thank you, thank you,” he said deferentially, waving his hands to stop the applause.

“If I might be as bold as to say something, sir?” Lestrange stepped forward, holding her hands together in front of her chest.

“Oh, all right, if you must,” Voldemort growled and slumped down in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“The Hogsmeade weekend is in four days now,” Lestrange began, “but the Polyjuice Potion takes a month to brew, master.”

“OUT!”

Lestrange whimpered before running out of the room.

“A month,” Voldemort repeated. “HA! I’m the most powerful wizard that ever walked this planet and Saturn, so clearly I could make the potion in four days!”

“My lord…” Lucius began. “I’m am sorry to bring upon you such devastating news but the potion needs its month to brew properly and-”

“OUT!”

Lucius bowed and slowly withdrew from the room. Voldemort looked at the teeny amount of Death Eaters that remained. He suddenly furrowed his ‘eyebrows’ and asked, “Where is everyone?”

“They behaved badly, sir, and you shooed them away,” Bucklenot answered nervously.

“How DARE you lie to my face?!” Voldemort bellowed. “Bring them all here at once!”



“So what do you want to do today?” Harry asked after their last class of the day. They were sitting comfortably in Gryffindor common room in front of the roaring fire. Ron had put his feet onto the coffee table in front of the sofa and Hermione kept shooing them away mumbling something about “Bad hygiene.”

“Well, obviously we’ll do our homework before anything else,” Hermione replied.

“Yes, obviously we’re not allowed to do anything remotely pleasurable after a long day of lessons,” Ron grumbled.

“Precisely,” Hermione sneered. “No, of course not, Ron. I just think we should get it out of the way so we can enjoy the rest of the day without continually thinking about the homework that lies untouched in our respective dormitories.”

“Merlin!” Ron breathed, shooting his hands up in the air in despair.

“Besides,” Hermione continued, “You wouldn’t want to be overloaded with homework when Fleur arrives for that’ll give you no time whatsoever with that darling Veela.”

“Homework it is!” Harry exclaimed, clapping his hands together joyously.



When all the misbehaved Death Eaters had returned to their place in their half-moon circle, Voldemort began, “As I have so cunningly discovered by my brilliant self, the Polyjuice Potion does not have enough time to be brewed properly. Therefore,” Voldemort looked around and when his eyes met Lucius Malfoy’s, he continued, “you, Lucius, will go down to our stock of potions and search each shelf to their very corner.”

Lucius bowed and turned to leave. “I hope,” Voldemort whispered maliciously, “for your own safety, that you find it.”

Lucius bowed once again and disappeared through the Eastern door.



“Done!” Ron exclaimed, looking happily at his Potions essay.

“Great,” Hermione smiled. “Now you just have to do your Transfiguration homework.”

“Argh!”



Voldemort stood by a window, looking out on the lovely September evening sky. The clouds had a shade of pink as the sun was disappearing on the horizon. He let out a small sigh, absorbing the beautiful wonders of the world.

Suddenly he became quite disgusted with himself and his actions.

He hurriedly proceeded to his pacing before the Death Eaters saw, for pacing elevated his superiority while gazing out the window on dreamy pink, fluffy clouds definitely did not.

A door creaked open and Lucius Malfoy went inside with a small bag in his hands.

“You got the potion!” Voldemort exclaimed.

“No, my lord,” Lucius replied as he walked toward the Dark Lord with the bag held carefully in his hands. “This is your monthly consignment of tranquillizing pills.”

“Oh.”

Lucius handed the bag to a slight awkward-looking Voldemort, and said, “I’ll go to the dungeons now and search for the potion, master.” He bowed and soon disappeared through the door.



“Done!” Ron exclaimed, looking happily at his Transfiguration homework.

“Great,” Hermione smiled. “Now you just have to do your Charms essay.”

“Argh!”



“I found it, sir!”

Lucius reappeared through the door only a couple of minutes later. In his hands he held a transparent vial. You could see the lumpy consistency inside it.

“Very well, Lucius,” Voldemort smirked viciously. “Hand it to me.”

Lucius cautiously gave his master the vial and resumed to his place among the Death Eaters.

Voldemort laughed.

The laugh only a very wicked wizard could produce. A laugh that brought up every vicious side of him, and made his inferiors and foes feel as if their souls were freezing.

“Let the plan begin!” Voldemort exclaimed, the glee so evident in his eyes.

“Yes, master!” Lestrange chorused.

“Lestrange! You ruined the perfect ending to this chapter!” Voldemort berated. “It was the perfect cliffie. But no, no, no! You just had to agree with me, didn’t you?!”

Lestrange look utterly ashamed.

“I’ll just have to say it again, you diseased rhinoceros’ pizzle!” Voldemort bellowed.

He replaced himself in his superior position and straightened up to his full height.

“Let the plan begin!”
Back to index
Booh! by Eilime
MOMENTOUS CHANGE

CHAPTER II
BOOH!



Friday had now come and the whole of Hogwarts castle was buzzing with indolence. There was no one listening in classes for the sole reason that the Hogmeade trip was the very next day, though two specific Gryffindors weren’t thinking of the Hogmeade trip at this very point.

“Can’t wait to see Fleur!” Ron exclaimed when they sat in the Great Hall, lunch’s various selections on their plates.

“Yeah, it’s going to be great,” Harry chipped in.

“Yes, I’m just thrilled!” Hermione shrieked happily.

She didn’t convince them though.



“I will not tolerate such slovenliness in my late father’s house!” Voldemort barked. He looked viciously at each Death Eater in front of him. “It’s outrageous! It’s intolerable! It’s incomprehensible, unbelievable, erroneous, inexcusable!” Voldemort bellowed, secretly checking a dictionary behind his back for good words to say. Sobs were trying to escape his mouth but he was quite the little soldier and held them back. “It is highly improper for my nonentities!”

Now Voldemort couldn’t hold it back any longer. Tears of injustice trickled down his bony cheeks and he whimpered, “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry!”

*


Some minutes and a lot of Kleenex’s later, Voldemort resumed his fearless self and positioned himself in front of his servants, all of whom awaited his continuing scolding.

“As I said,” “ sniffle “ “I will not tolerate this,” Voldemort finished.

“Of course not, master,” Crabbe comforted him.

Voldemort eyed him maliciously, and Crabbe winced from mortification of speaking recklessly.

“My fetid nonentities,” Voldemort began, now looking away from Crabbe. “This was the last straw. The next time you do something this ruthless, there’ll be heck to pay! Did you hear me? The next time you go to a strip club without bringing me along, there’ll be heck to pay!”



“So, how’s she arriving?” Hermione asked, desperately trying to rid herself of the unbearable attention she had just dropped on herself.

“Erm, I don’t know exactly how,” Harry answered, “but she said we should meet her at Hogwarts’ main gate at five p.m.”

“Okay,” Hermione replied. “Aren’t you just so happy you’ve finished all your homework and have the whole weekend free?”

“Yes,” Harry and Ron answered reluctantly.

Hermione smiled knowingly and continued, “I do hope she behaves better than when we were in our fourth year.”

“She improved a lot,” Harry argued.

“Yes, after you saved her little sister,” Hermione pointed out. “But anyway, I think this might turn out to be a very educational experience. Did you know that Fleur Delacour means ‘Flower of the Court’?”

“No,” responded Ron. “So what?”

“I think it’s kind of snobbish if you ask me,” Hermione finished.

“Well, we didn’t ask you,” Harry spat.

“I mean,” Hermione continued, not hearing Harry at all, “she could just as well hang a big sign over her head, saying I’m a Veela, I’m a snob. Want to touch my silky and perfectly straight hair? Of course we don’t, Flower of the Court!”

Ron, who had both eyebrows raised, said, “Take a chill-pill, Herms!”



“So, now when that’s settled,” Voldemort began, “we’ll look at the matters at hand. We’ve got the potion. We’ve got the place. We’ve got the plan. Everyone knows what to do, is that not so?”

“Yes, master,” chorused the Death Eaters.

“Brilliant,” Voldemort smirked. “Tomorrow is the time of the kidnapping and no mistakes will be allowed! You all know what to do and I expect that you succeed. We will leave this house tomorrow at nine o’clock”when the minute hand points at ‘twelve’ and the hour hand points at ‘nine’”and you will receive final orders when we’ve reached our destination.”

The Death Eaters nodded their approbation.

“Very well, you may now take your leave,” Voldemort finished. “Be sure to be in our I’ve-got-vicious-plan meeting room at eight o’clock”when the minute hand points at ‘twel-”

“We understand, my lord,” Goyle intervened.

“DO NOT INTERRUPT ME!” Voldemort bellowed. “Ahem… when the minute hand points at ‘twelve’ and the hour hand points at ‘eight’”tomorrow morning.”

Voldemort gave Goyle one last evil glare and dismissed them.



“It’s ten to five,” Ron said, looking at his wrist watch, “we’d better get going.”

Harry and Hermione nodded, and the three of them went out into the chilly September night air and walked down the undulating plains of Hogwarts grounds. When they reached the main gate, they looked out but Fleur hadn’t arrived yet.

“It’s 5:02,” Ron whispered, “Where is she?” He looked up anxiously at Harry and Hermione.

“Geez!” Hermione breathed.

“I’m just worried that’s all,” Ron explained.

“Too worried, if you ask me!” Hermione spat.

“Once again today, I’m not!”

“No woman in their right mind would want such a whimpering and jumpy boyfriend, Ron, so lighten up!”

“I never said I wanted t-”

“Bonsoir, ‘Arry, Ron, ‘Ermione!”

The three Hogwarts students spun around and saw a dark figure standing on the other side of the gate. The person’s accent was of course recognizable, but the person’s silvery blond hair that appeared from under the black hood unveiled her as well.

“Welcome, mademoiselle Delacour,” Hermione smiled and gave Fleur her hand. The boys were awe-struck and had apparently lost their ability to talk, so Hermione had been forced to greet her first.

“Thank you, ‘Ermione,” Fleur beamed. “Please, call me Fleur.”

Hermione smiled weakly and then turned to the boys. “Oy! Harry! Ron!”

Harry and Ron awoke from their trances and extended their hands to Fleur, who just shooed them away and instead kissed them on the right cheek, then the left, then the right.

Two very red-cheeked boys, a beaming blond girl and a sulking frizzy-haired girl walked back up to the castle.

*


After dinner that night, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Fleur returned to Gryffindor tower. Dumbledore had given permission to give Fleur the password, and she was to stay in Hermione’s dormitory. When she had unpacked, she returned to the common room where Harry, Ron and Hermione were chatting, comfortably seated on the couch. Fleur walked over and seated herself between Harry and Ron, beaming endlessly.

“Hi, Fleur,” Harry smiled. “Unpacked already?”

“Oui,” she responded. “I ‘ave a wand, you know. So, why not use it?”

Giggle.

Hermione shuddered.

“So, ‘Arry…” Fleur began, stroking his arm with her fingers. “What do you want to do?”

“Erm…” Harry stammered, looking anxiously from her fingers to her eyes, which shone in the light from the fire.

“Maybe we could just talk. Catch up on old times,” Fleur suggested. “We ‘aven’t seen each uzzer for…” she trailed off, counting the years on her fingers, “Mon Dieu! Trois années!” she cried, then seeing Harry’s uncomprehending look, she explained, “Three years!”

“Yes,” Harry replied. “It’s been three years.”

“So,” Fleur continued, “You want to talk, ‘Arry?” She gave Ron and Hermione a very hinting look and bashed her eyelashes.

Hermione was very well aware of the fact that Fleur wanted her and Ron to leave the room, but she acted as if she didn’t take the hint. Ron on the other hand didn’t take the hint out of pure stupidity.

Fleur looked a bit irritated and sighed. She looked up and said, “Might I be alone wizz ‘Arry for a while?” she asked sweetly.

Hermione really didn’t want to go but Ron answered, “Erm, okay,” and soon they were both on their way up into their dormitories.



Voldemort walked into his bedroom and looked around his dimly lit room. He put on his pyjamas and popped into his bed, smiling at the prospect of his vicious plan. No way could this one go wrong. Surely the last couple of schemes had turned out quite nastily but that wasn’t a reason for this to turn out like that as well.

Voldemort snuggled under the covers and breathed in the lovely scent of vanilla from his newly washed sheets.

He closed his eyes and imagined Harry’s shocked face as he would surprise him and kidnap him the next day.

“Go me!” Voldemort whispered before slumbering off into a dreamless sleep.



Up in the boys’ dormitory Ron was mumbling rapidly, and Hermione didn’t catch any of it.

“Ron, are you okay?” she asked, looking at the shifting Ron, who sat on his four-poster bed.

“Yes,” he grumbled.

“Ron, tell me what’s wrong,” Hermione replied.

“It’s just…” he trailed off, fumbling with his hands. “It’s just that I know what Harry and Fleur are up to right now. And I think it’s unfair.”

Hermione gave him a weak, affectionate smile and nodded for him to continue.

“I’ll always be second choice,” Ron continued glumly. “I should have realized it when she wrote to Harry and not me. I’m not anyone special”I’m the guy everyone knows because I’m Harry’s best mate. This is just a perfect example of how my whole life’s going to be like. Behind Harry at all times. That’s me”Second Choice Ron. If not Eighty Third Choice Ron. That’s my life. The End.”

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Hermione assured him. “Somewhere there’s someone saying something to someone and somehow this someone’s supposed to be suited for you.”

“You do realize how annoying that sentence was, right?” Ron drawled.

“Yes,” Hermione smiled mischievously. “Muahahaha!”



It was Saturday morning. The sun shone lustreless through the tall windows of Gryffindor tower. It’s beams hit two youngsters, one of whom was looking extremely worried.

“Harry never returned to your dormitory?” Hermione repeated, boring her eyes questioningly into Ron’s.

“No,” he answered simply.

“Oh no, he might be in danger!” Hermione concluded anxiously.

“Of course not, Hermione,” Ron assured her, patting her lightly on one shoulder. “He’s probably off shagging Fleur in a deserted corridor.”

“Ron!” Hermione warned. “Besides “ Harry wouldn’t do something like that! I suggest we go to Mad-Eye Moody and make him search for Harry. I couldn’t live with myself if I just dropped the subject and it turned out that something actually had happened to… to him.”

“Okay, if we must,” Ron replied, and the two of them left through the portrait hole.



Meanwhile in a classroom on fifth floor, Harry and Fleur lay on a conjured mat. Fleur was giggling and bashing her eyelashes, and Harry lay beside her, smiling foolishly.

“So, ‘Arry,” “ giggle “ “We finally found a classroom all to ourselves.”

“Mmmh…” Harry responded and kissed her.

Giggle.

“Voulez-vous couchez avec moi?” Fleur asked, winking.

“Oui, oui,” Harry replied; which happened to be the only word he knew in French. But it also happened to be the right answer according to the seductive smile she gave him.

He was terribly grateful he knew that word now.



“Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, please enter.”

Hermione and Ron stood outside Mad-Eye Moody’s office and heard him from behind the closed door. Obviously he had seen them through the door, and Hermione opened it, walking in with Ron behind her.

“Good morning, professor,” Hermione smiled.

“Good morning to you, too,” Moody replied. He was stood leaning over his desk which was covered in different Defence Against the Dark Arts books. One of which looked extremely old and it’s large size made it absorb most of the mahogany desk. “What brings you here?”

“We were just wondering if you could locate Harry for us,” Hermione answered. “He didn’t return to his dormitory last night and well… I’m worried.”

“I see,” Moody replied, straightening up as much as his old body permitted. “I’ll just check then, shall I?” He looked up, his bright blue eye rapidly searching through the thick stone ceiling. Suddenly he jerked his head back to look at the others with an uncomfortable look on his face.

“Found Harry all right,” he croaked.

“You did?” Hermione exclaimed. “Where is he?”

“Erm, well…” Moody looked extremely uncomfortable. “Let’s just say he’s exploring the meaning of the phrase so well known as ‘the birds and bees’ and is “ I think I can say for sure “ in no necessity of your worries.”

Hermione flushed quickly but Ron just narrowed his eyebrows and asked, “Birds and bees? But we don’t have Herbology on weekends.”

“Shall I rephrase then?” Moody asked, a smile twitching on the edge of his screwed mouth.

“No need!” Hermione cut him off, putting a hand up in front of him to stop any continual references.

“Oh, but I don’t mind at all,” Moody responded, a mischievous smile forming on his lips. “Mr. Weasley, as to where Mr. Potter is located this very moment, I can tell you for sure that he is in the vicinity of Ms. Delacour “ a very close vicinity, I might add “ and is currently pouring vast emotions into her desert of desire. ‘Coy’ is not a word I would use for his actions as he willingly unfolds the burning fire within his pores and-”

“Ron, please tell me you get it now!” Hermione shrieked, holding her hands tightly together in front of her chest as if praying.

Ron still looked confused, and therefore Moody continued smugly, “…and a feeling, languished for seventeen years, has been unleashed and it just so happens that Ms. Delacour is-”

“Ah!” Ron exclaimed. “I get it now!”

His face turned instantly from triumph to utter humiliation which quickly turned again but now into a revolting feeling inside him.

*


“Told you he was shagging her!” Ron hissed at Hermione after getting the thought of Harry and Fleur into his head to understand, and then as quickly as possible out again. They were walking down the main stairs to the Great Hall, students starting to fill the corridors on their way to breakfast.

“He didn’t do it in a deserted corridor!” Hermione cried.

“So a deserted classroom is much better?!” Ron bellowed.

“Yes!”

They slumped down opposite each other at the breakfast table. Neither of them speaking a word, until they were joined by the duo.

“Hi, guys,” Harry smiled as he sat down next to Ron; Fleur next to Hermione on the other side.

“Hi, Harry, Fleur,” Hermione forced a smile and hurriedly turned her attention to her breakfast.

“So, Harry,” Ron began, “How was shag-”

“Ron!” Hermione shrieked. “I just remembered… erm, we have to…get our bags before we head off to Hogsmeade!”

Ron growled but followed her out of the Great Hall nonetheless.

Harry watched them go and then turned to look at Fleur and asked, “Ready to go to Hogsmeade?”



“Ready to go to Hogsmeade?” Voldemort asked, eyeing his Death Eaters with great enthusiasm.

“Yes, master,” they chorused.

“Good.”



Walking down the sloping hills of Hogwarts ground, Ron was in a particularly bad mood. Harry and Fleur were walking in front of him and Hermione, holding hands, and Fleur’s continuing giggling gave Ron an earache”he was sure he’d soon get some sort of inflammation.

Looking away from the nauseating duo at the lake, he saw Malfoy walking along the shore, looking intently at someone to Ron’s left. Ron looked around and saw that Hermione was returning the look.

Calm down, Ron, he told himself. Sure they snogged under a bench in Hyde Park this summer but that doesn’t mean they’re shagging.

Ron looked toward Malfoy again and saw him wink at Hermione, smirking.

Okay, definitely shagging.

“Why’s everyone shagging but me?!” Ron cried furiously.

Silence. Everyone looked at him with eyebrows raised.

“Did I say that out loud?”



“Has he come yet?” Peter Pettigrew asked from his hiding place behind a rose bush in a deserted area on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

“No, Wormtail,” Voldemort snapped. “Be patient.”



The four students entered the village of Hogsmeade in a slightly more cheerful mood after Ron’s unconscious revelation. They walked down the main road, looking into the various shops and occasionally stepping into one.



“Has he come yet?”

“No, Wormtail!” Voldemort snapped.



Coming out of Honeydukes, Harry was chewing happily on a Liquorice Pipe, when Fleur suddenly exclaimed, “Mon Dieu! C’est impossible! ‘Ermione, come wizz me!”

She dragged Hermione into a small shop which, looking through the display glass, Harry assumed was a women clothing shop. Taking a step back, Harry looked up and saw the shop was called L’Amour d’Or, which explained Fleur’s shriek of joy.

“Let’s go down this way,” Ron suggested, and they started to walk down the side road Ron had indicated.



“Has he come yet?”

“NO!”



Harry and Ron came to the end of the road which didn’t end in a dead end but unfolded in an open path on which lay twenty or so rose bushes. Harry thought it looked strangely unrealistic the way they almost lay in a half-moon circle put he didn’t give it a second thought.

“Has he come yet?”

Harry looked strangely at one of the bushes for he had been sure it had just spoken. Pull yourself together, Harry, he scolded himself, bushes don’t talk.

He looked at Ron, who too was staring uncomprehendingly at the bush.

Or maybe they do…

Harry narrowed his eyes, fixing them more intently on the talking bush. Without the bush moving, something thin and pointy appeared through the leaves. Harry thought it looked unmistakably like a wand. Bushes don’t have wands, he reasoned.

“Stupify!”

Harry cracked his neck as he hurriedly looked to his right to find Ron motionless on the ground.

“What the…?”

“Expelliarmus!”

Harry’s wand flew out of his pocket before he even got hold of it. It flew up in the air and landed inches from the talking bush. Harry was now quite sure he wasn’t going to enjoy this little encounter any more than he would like to see Hagrid naked.

Suddenly something appeared from behind the bush on the talking bush’s right. A tall, slim body rose, it’s black cloak and hood hiding it’s identity. Harry felt the recognizable stinging in his scar and stumbled a frightened step back. The cloaked figure lifted it’s arms and drew back the hood.

“Booh!”


____
A/N: Here is a little reference from this chapter that I’d like to explain:

Voldemort snuggled under the covers and breathed in the lovely scent of vanilla from his newly washed sheets.

Why is it that the majority of fanfics I’ve read where a shampoo, or a girl’s perfume, or the scent of the bubbles in the bath tub always has a vanilla scent? Why is it always vanilla?!
Back to index
Twister by Eilime
MOMENTOUS CHANGE

CHAPTER III
TWISTER



“Voldemort.” This was a statement, not a question.

“No, Harry, it’s the big, bad bogeyman,” Voldemort sneered.

“You’re him too?!” Harry asked, dumbfounded.

“Yes, Harry, I suffer from split personality disorder,” Voldemort drawled. “No, of course I’m not!”

“Phew…!” Harry breathed, drying his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Voldemort sighed with irritation.

“Get what over with?” Harry spat though there was a tad of nervousness in his voice. He only hoped Voldemort didn’t sense this.

“Patience, boy!” Voldemort sneered.

“Are you going to kill me?” Harry asked with a confidence he didn’t really feel.

A deafening silence filled the space around Harry, Voldemort, and the Death Eaters. Voldemort smirked and answered, “Not yet.”

“Ha! You don’t have the guts to kill me!”

“You think this wise, boy?” Voldemort sneered. “To bait the most feared wizard to ever walk this earth?”

“I don’t fear you,” Harry replied, his jaw set. “Heck, I fear the Wizard of Oz more than you!”

“Silence!” Voldemort barked. “I could end your life right now if that was the case but since I need your godforsaken hair, I will not! Consider yourself lucky, Potter!” Voldemort was shaking with rage, his hands balled into fists in attempt to control himself. “I’ll tell you that I could-”

“My lord, here take this,” Lucius reasoned. He held out a hand that contained a tranquillizer pill.

“Thank you, Lucius.” Voldemort took the pill and swallowed it. Suddenly he burst out into a fit of giggles and landed on the ground, holding his stomach from the aching of laughter.

“Whoops, wrong pills,” Lucius said, looking embarrassed. He hurriedly fumbled for the other bag of pills and soon Voldemort was on his feet, calm, as if just awoken from a good night’s sleep.

“Let’s get on with it,” he said and then mumbled something with his wand outstretched. Instantly ropes appeared from the tip of his wand, and Harry struggled pointlessly. The ropes went around his ankles and soon he lost his balance and tripped. He hit the ground with a loud thud and his glasses fell off his nose.

With blurred vision, Harry could only make out twenty or so dark figures standing all around him, casting shadows upon his body. One of them approached and knelt down right next to him. Harry heard the sound of a pair of scissors circling around his head, chopping, chopping…



Voldemort watched with excitement as Crabbe cut through the boy’s hair. Being a hairdresser, Voldemort thought it better be Crabbe doing the cutting since Voldemort was to take Harry’s form and obviously didn’t want to look like he’d just went through a lawn mower.

“Done, master,” Crabbe announced.

“Very well, Crabbe,” Voldemort smirked, “Go put it into the vial.”

Crabbe walked over to Lucius and put one of the many hairs into the small transparent vial. Voldemort watched with glee as the potion made a little gurgling noise, showing that it was ready.

“Master?”

Lestrange had nervously interrupted Voldemort’s thoughts, and Voldemort turned to look at her as if she was something from a Muggle waste bin. “What?” he sneered.

“My lord, when you unveiled the details of your plan, you said to also cut your hair. But we do not need to do so since the boy will be hidden in your late father’s house with all of us “ your servants “ looking out for him. No one will see him.”

“You are quite right, Lestrange,” Voldemort admitted reluctantly, and made a mental note that Lestrange being right about something instead of him must never occur again.

Voldemort approached the vial and held it tightly in his hand. Casting a determined look into the vial, he drowned it.



“Come on, Fleur,” Hermione breathed, “Let’s go out to the boys.”

“No, I ‘ave not yet finished,” came Fleur’s voice from inside a fitting room.

“You have tried on everything in the shop!” Hermione cried.

“No,” Fleur replied, coming out from the fitting room. “Only the clothes here on the first floor. Let’s go upstairs!” She seized Hermione’s arm and dragged her up the stairs.



The burning sensation in his throat and the bubbling feeling on his skin vanished and Voldemort straightened up.

“A mirror,” he commanded.

Bucklenott fumbled inside his robes and withdrew a beautiful silver mirror with intricate carvings of leaves and raindrops, and handed it to his master.

Voldemort looked into the mirror and saw the reflections of a young boy of seventeen staring back at him with emerald green eyes.

“Perfect,” Voldemort whispered and took Harry’s glasses from the ground. Voldemort handed back the mirror and said, “Take him back with you now.”

“But, my lord, how are we going to get back? We can not Apparate with the boy,” Goyle pointed out.

“You’ll have to go that way,” Voldemort announced, pointing at a small road to the west. “When you come to a small river, you take Buckleberry Ferry until you reach the place where a tributary begins on the Eastern shore.”

“Yes, and from there I know the rest of the way,” Lucius said.

“Very well, Lucius, you will be the guide henceforth,” Voldemort responded. Lucius looked quite pleased but slumped a little when Voldemort finished, “Which means that it’ll be your head that rolls if anything happens that should not.”

“Of course, master.”

“Good,” Voldemort took his wand and pointed it at Ron’s motionless form. “Obliviate!” Ron shook slightly on the ground and then resumed his stiff form. “Go now.”



“Okay, okay! We can go now!” Fleur uttered, shooting her hands up in the air in despair.

“Great,” Hermione smiled and the two girls exited the shop. Hogsmeade main road was bustling with students from Hogwarts and an occasional inhabitant of the village itself, but neither Harry nor Ron was in the proximity.

“Where could they have gone?” Hermione asked herself rather than Fleur.

“Per’aps they ‘ave gone to ‘Oneyduckes?” Fleur suggested.

“We’ve been there already.”

“Then maybe the Three Broomsticks?”

“Yes, let’s try that one.”



Voldemort watched as his entourage disappeared into the woods. When they were completely out of sight, he turned to Ron say said, “Enervate.”

Ron’s eyes fluttered open and he looked uncomprehendingly around.

“Why am I lying on the ground?” he asked, getting up.

“Because, er… my friend, you tripped on a stone,” Voldemort answered. What’s that boy’s name again? he asked himself.

“Okay, let’s get back to the girls,” Ron suggested.

“What girls?” Voldemort asked before he could stop himself.

“Hermione and Fleur, of course,” Ron replied, looking strangely at Voldemort.

“Oh, right,” Voldemort tried to chuckle but all that came out of his mouth was a sort of hoarse grunt since he wasn’t used to doing it.



“Nope, not there either,” Hermione said, exiting the fourth shop she and Fleur had gone through to find the boys.

“Oh, where can they be?” cried Fleur, looking anxiously down the main road.

“There they are!” Hermione exclaimed, moving down the road, approaching the red and black spots heading toward her and Fleur. “Where have you been?” she asked as she was within earshot.

“Hi, Hermione,” Ron smiled, “we were just on the outskirts of the village, you know, where the forest begins.”

Voldemort made a mental note, Okay, girl with ugly, frizzy, brown hair is called Hermione, remember that.

“Okay, well, we’re finished here if you want to go back?” Hermione said.

“Sure, let’s head back,” Ron replied.

Voldemort followed Ron and … Her… Hermione up the road. The other girl with the beautiful silver-blond hair came up to him and entwined her hand in his. Quite startled by this sudden action, Voldemort looked at her with wide eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Fleur asked.

“Erm, nothing!” Voldemort said quickly.

Okay, this girl’s apparently my girlfriend. God, I’m a babe-magnet!

They walked into the grounds, the castle’s windows clear in the grey afternoon air. Hermione had apparently seen someone by the lake because she left them and headed for it.

Voldemort continued with his girlfriend, whatever her name is, and Ron up toward the castle.



Harry, who had been given a pair of square, turquoise glasses in the absence of his own pair, watched from his bound, floating position as the trees passed overhead. The sun didn’t reach the ground, as the trees stood so close to each other. Screaming for help was not an option since Wormtail had put some sort of cloth in Harry’s mouth. Harry had a very unpleasant feeling that it might be a sock.

“Ah, here we are,” Lucius’ voice reached Harry’s ears.

Harry strained his neck to see where they had stopped at. In the background, he saw a dark house on top of a hill. They were standing at the shore of a small river with a bridge crossing it that lead to the other side of the river, from which you could continue on to the house.

The Death Eaters began to cross the bridge and when Harry was sent toward it, he saw a sign on the right side of the beginning of the bridge that read: The Bridge of Khazad-Dûm. BEWARE “ occasional appearance of a Balrog.

If there had been anything else written on the sign, Harry did not get time to read it for he was floating across the bridge.



Tired of Ron’s whining about Harry and Fleur, Hermione left the three of them and headed toward the lake. Luckily for her, Malfoy was still at the lake, alone, like he had been when they had gone to Hogsmeade earlier.

“Hey!” she greeted him.

“Hey, Granger,” Malfoy smirked. “Ready for the shag-athon?”

“No.”

“We can go to the Shrieking Shag?” Malfoy proposed.

“The Shrieking Shack, Malfoy,” Hermione corrected.

“Same thing.”

“Either way - no,” Hermione said firmly. “Well, maybe later,” she added as an afterthought.

They sat down on the shore and watched the squid splash around in the chilly water of the lake. Hermione told Malfoy about Ron’s never-ending whining and concluded in that something must be done.

“But what?” she asked Malfoy.

“No idea,” he replied. For a Slytherin, Malfoy didn’t really live up to the expected slyness or cleverness.

“I think we should find Ron and knock some sense into him,” Hermione suggested.

“Yes,” Malfoy agreed. “Okay, you get the hydrochloric acid and a big dog, and I’ll find a iron girder and his grandmother.”

Hermione shot an eyebrow and replied, “I think not.”



Harry Potter was not a happy camper. Being tied up, kidnapped by Death Eaters, floating to lord knows where and having your boxershorts up your bum is one thing, but being knocked into doors and windowsills on purpose was another.

Harry muffled a cry of pain behind the woollen sock when his head banged into the banisters but the Death Eaters were merciless.

Floating up the stairs, Harry could see that the house they had come into was very dark, and a dank and somewhat smoky air surrounded him, making him a bit queasy. At the top of the stairs, they turned down a corridor and at the end of it, entered a room.

“Put him down in the middle of the room, Bucklenott,” Lucius’ voice echoed in the room.

Harry felt himself float a bit more and then felt the sensation of being lowered, and soon he hit the floor with a soft thud.

Harry was lying on his back and therefore only saw the ceiling of the room which happened to be very dark and in desperate need of a housekeeper. The wizard called Bucklenott knelt down beside him and started fumbling with the ropes. Once free, Harry massaged his arms from being so tightly stuck to his body with unbreakable ropes.

“Cavea!” Lucius said and a cage emerged out of thin air and sealed itself around Harry.

Harry sat up in the small cage and saw through the bars a smirking Malfoy senior who was clearly congratulating himself on the capture of Harry Potter.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Harry sweetly said, “Can I have a lollipop?”

“Sure,” Lucius answered simply and turned around but stopped in his actions and faced Harry again, saying, “Is this a trick question?”

“No, I’d just like a lollipop.”

“Well, okay then.”



Hermione had left Malfoy at the lake, seeing that it was probably best for her to confront Ron on her own without the presence of Malfoy, who would clearly and intentionally irritate Ron.

She found Ron sitting in an armchair in Gryffindor common room. Fleur and Harry had obviously left him because they were nowhere in sight. Hermione walked slowly over to him because she knew he had an bad temper. It’s the red hair…

“Hi, Ron, what are you doing?”

“Oh, hey, ‘Mione,” Ron grunted. “Just sitting here, waiting to be dissolved.”

“Oh, Ron, it’s not that bad,” Hermione comforted him. “There are other fish in the sea.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” he growled.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Hermione asked sweetly.

“Yes,” Ron answered a bit reluctantly, but still Hermione could sense that he wanted her opinion and advice.

“I think,” Hermione began, “that you’re the most irritable, insufferable, whining boy I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting!”

Ron was gawking, dumbfounded, at the sudden outburst. Surely she is going to comfort me, right?

Right?

“Ron, pull yourself together!”

Apparently not…

“Fleur isn’t even that great! She’s bosy, selfish, spoiled, and to tell you the truth “ she doesn’t look good in anything other than light colours which I have just spent three hours discovering!” Hermione sighed with great irritation and continued. “There are a lot of girls who would have you, Ron! You’re just so pigheaded you don’t notice! You don’t see more than four feet ahead and you-”

“Please continue, Hermione,” Ron mocked, “You’re making me all tingly.”

“It’s for your own good, you know.”

“It’s for my own good that you tell me all the bad stuff I do or am? Tell you what, Hermione, why don’t you just find a shovel, go to the Forbidden Forest and dig a grave for me right now?”



“Thank you,” Harry replied, smiling, as he was handed the red and white lollipop that Lucius had conjured. “Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have my wand?” Harry asked sweetly.

“Sure,” Lucius answered simply and turned around but stopped in his actions and faced Harry again, saying, “Is this a trick question?”

“No, I’d just like my wand.”

“Well, okay then,” Lucius responded and turned around then suddenly realized that it indeed was a trick question. “Hey!” he yelled back at Harry. “Don’t do that again!”



Voldemort was sitting with his girlfriend in the Great Hall, waiting for the rest of the school to arrive and the dinner to start. Their conversation was quite shallow since Voldemort didn’t have the faintest idea who she was, or what her name was for that matter.

Ron and Hermione joined them not long after which Voldemort was grateful for at first but when realizing those two were in a particularly bad mood, he wished they hadn’t come after all.

“Hi, Harry, Fleur,” Hermione said.

Ah! My girlfriend’s name is Fleur! Voldemort thought, relieved to finally have that mystery solved.

Dinner that night was a very quiet affair. All four of them seemed to be in their own thoughts; Ron was grumbling and didn’t eat much. Hermione was eating silently but looking up every once in a while toward the Slytherin table. Fleur was not paying much attention to her food but was constantly smoothing her hair and tossing it over her shoulder. Voldemort was in deep thoughts about when he was going to fulfil his master plan. He remembered having to drink some Polyjuice potion and carefully drank from a vial that had been cast with an Invisibility curse. His three friends didn’t notice him doing anything.



Harry was bored. There was no one inside the room where he found himself, there was nothing of interest in there to look at either. Plus, he had finished his lollipop.

He was lying with his back against the floor of the cage, and was humming “I’m not a girl, not yet a woman” to himself. Suddenly, a door in the southern wall opened and two men entered. One was Lucius Malfoy, the other Bucklenott.

“So, Harry, are you enjoying your stay here?” Bucklenott asked, smirking.

“Yes, it’s lovely,” Harry answered sarcastically.

“Is there anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable?” Bucklenott asked. “A delightful amount of torture? Handcuffs? The Cruciatus curse, perhaps? Or pain the Muggle way? Maybe loosing a hand? Or going fishing?”

“No, thank you,” Harry smiled. “I’m quite well.”

“Indeed,” Lucius sneered.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you down into the torture chamber?” Bucklenott insisted.

“Ay,” Harry answered, his breathing quickening a bit, seeing that there was a definite possibility that Bucklenott would take him there anyway. But Harry wasn’t a coward. He would not bow to these cruel men. He would fight. He would stand his ground. “What about a game of Twister instead?”

“Twister! Oh, I love Twister!” Lucius burst out. Then seeing Bucklenott’s strict expression, he made a mental note to prevent any further outbursts.



Being back at Hogwarts was quite a strange feeling for Voldemort. Seeing the great stone walls, the flickering torches, the various ghosts, the school uniforms, and the Quidditch pitch made memories come alive inside his cold mind. Memories of Potions lessons, breaking curfews, snogging in a corner when he still had lips, being with real friends. Memories of laughter and cruelty toward undeserving kids with unworthy bloodlines. Voldemort laughed at this, making the beautiful girl on his side smile.

“What are you smiling about?” Fleur asked him.

“Nothing in particular,” Voldemort replied.

He thought that now when he had lips, he should make the best of it.

He leaned in toward his girlfriend.



“There will be no game-playing, no jokes, no funnybusiness of any kind!” Bucklenott spat.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry responded, trying to sound genuine.

“Good.” Bucklenott shot Harry a particularly nasty look and turned around.

“Bucklenott,” Lucius began slowly, “why can’t we play Twister?”

Bucklenott turned around to face Lucius, an annoyed and angry glow in his eyes. “And you are the one the Dark Lord made second in command?”

Lucius tried to look imperious and proud but failed when having the feeling that that had not been a compliment but an insult of some very cruel kind.

“Yes, he is,” Harry intervened. “Mr. Malfoy is second in command and he wants to play Twister. And there's no way you can stop him!”

“I will not let this happen,” Bucklenott sneered. “The Dark Lord will not be pleased if this was to happen. You shall listen to me, Lucius, and stop this foolishness!”

“Come on, Bucklenott,” Lucius responded. “Just a little game.”

“No,” Bucklenott answered simply.

“With only one colour?” Lucius begged.

“No.”

“Why don’t you just take the fun out of everything?” Lucius sneered.

“I’ll do my best.”



Getting ready for bed, Voldemort thought about how well everything was going. So far none of his friends had noticed that he was not the real Harry. Voldemort guessed the real Harry was just as confused.

Voldemort snuggled under his red and gold covers of his four-poster bed and took in a deep and relaxing breath as his head hit the pillow.

He was oh so ready for the plan to begin. Well, it actually had begun, but not the fun part. The part where he would gain control over the world and make every man, every creature, afraid of him. The world had no idea what was to become of them as soon as Voldemort unfolded his master plan.

He smirked into the depths of his pillow.


____
A/N: References:

“When you come to a small river, you take Buckleberry Ferry until you reach the place where a tributary begins on the Eastern shore.”
- Buckleberry Ferry, the Lord of the Rings “ the Fellowship of the Ring.

The Death Eaters began to cross the bridge and when Harry was sent toward it, he saw a sign on the right side of the beginning of the bridge that read: The Bridge of Khazad-Dûm. BEWARE “ occasional appearance of a Balrog.
- The Bridge of Khazad-Dûm, Balrog, the Lord of the Rings “ the Fellowship of the Ring.
Back to index
Interrogation by Eilime
MOMENTOUS CHANGE

CHAPTER IV
INTERROGATION



Voldemort, Ron, Hermione and Fleur were sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast. Loud chatter and laughter filled the whole room from students readying themselves for the lessons of the day. The cheery atmosphere did not reach the quartet though. They were eating in silence until Ron suddenly exclaimed, “Harry, I moved you from Divination to Muggle Studies anyway.”

“Come again?” Voldemort asked, bewildered.

Ron sighed. “Remember I told you a few days ago that I was going to drop Divination and have Muggle Studies instead?”

“Erm… yeah,” Voldemort replied with fake comprehension.

“Well, you said you didn’t need Muggle Studies but then I remembered Hermione,” Ron began nodding in Hermione’s direction. “She’s muggleborn but still she liked the subject.”

“Hermione’s muggleborn?” Voldemort burst out. Then seeing Ron and Hermione’s peculiar faces, he realized he had said something terribly wrong. “Whoops! Of course you are!” he grinned awkwardly and added, “Sorry, it just slipped my mind.”

“Okay…” Ron responded with one eyebrow raised. Then putting it aside by waving his hand dismissively, he added, “Anyway, that’s why I removed you, too.”

“All right,” Voldemort said and took a bite of his muffin.

“And since you live with Muggles, you’ll be able to help me with my homework!” Ron announced excitedly.

“Oh… yeah… great,” Voldemort replied with fake enthusiasm.



Harry was definitely not having the time of his life. To think that this even was his life was hard to believe. He could be trapped in this cage for years and years until Voldemort finally could see no use of him and would simply kill him. No, Harry could indeed not see any good outcomes of this incarceration.

He had also grown extremely tired of ‘I’m not a girl, not yet a woman.’ Since humming that song once, it had stayed on his mind non-stop. He had of course tried to hum other songs but they weren’t as effective as that one. At this moment, he was trying his best to remember the lyrics to ‘Summer of 69’ and wished that this Bryan Adams guy had left behind a diary of this summer, and Harry had found that instead of Voldemort’s stupid diary from his extremely boring and lovelife-less teenage days. That would have been so much more fun to be brought into.

Harry had just now demonstrated the meaning of a trifling and completely unnecessary thought.



Voldemort was walking with Ron and Hermione to his first lesson. It was Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs “ yuck, he thought “ and the heavy books made the straps on his bag hurt his shoulder. Finally, they arrived at the classroom where the Huffflepuffs “ yuck “ were already filing in. Voldemort took a seat with Ron; Hermione with some other girl behind them.

“D’you think Fleur will be all right by herself while we have classes?” Voldemort asked Ron.

“Fleur alone in Hogsmeade where the shops are open till the sun goes down?” Ron asked with an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, definitely.”

Voldemort nodded. He looked around at the Hufflepuffs “ yuck “ who were all chatting amicably until Professor McGonagall entered and the class began.



Harry continued his trivial thoughts and was now on the verge of a breakdown. Surely this incarceration could bring nothing but self-destruction and sorrow. Yes, sorrow. Oh, how sorrowful people would be if he died. The world would surely come to an end if that was the case. What could the world do in his absence? No future, no happy prospect would keep their hopes up. Was it even possible for them to go on with their lives knowing that he, Harry, had died such a tragic and merciless death? Knowing how brave he was? How would they survive without him? The death of Harry Potter would surely bring the death of the world.

Harry became quite doleful and somewhat proud of his worry for the world. His altruism touched him deeply and he felt like a better person because of it.

Really, Harry thought, the world could seriously use more unselfish people like me.



Next lesson was Potions. Voldemort, Ron, and Hermione positioned themselves in the back of the class where Voldemort could see the blond locks of his second in command’s son. Malfoy Jr. turned to look at Voldemort and sneered, saying something to those two morons Crabbe and Goyle called their sons.

Snape entered. Ha! My spy. Oh, wait! Snape wasn’t at the I’ve-got-a-vicious-plan-meeting, so he doesn’t know about the plan! He doesn’t know it’s me.

After the Potion lesson, Voldemort said something to Ron and Hermione about forgetting his ink bottle in the dungeon and left them to go get it. Thickheads, Voldemort mentally laughed at their stupidity.

He re-entered the classroom and saw Snape sitting behind his desk, his greased head bowed over a piece of parchment.

“Yo, Snape!”

Snape looked up at Voldemort with both eyebrows raised.

“I just realized you didn’t know about my plan,” Voldemort continued.

“Your plan?” Snape asked. “To do what? Clone your scar and sell it as Potter merchandise?”

“No, it’s me! Voldemort!”

“Oh, of course you’re the Dark Lord,” Snape drawled. “And I’m Oprah Winfrey. No, better yet! I’ll be Elvis “ that way I can show that he really still does exist!”

“Are you going somewhere with this?” Voldemort drawled, extremely irritated. “Look, Snape, I really am Voldemort.”

“Yes, you are the Dark Lord,” Snape agreed. “The Dark Lord whose impending detention is coming ever so close.”

“All right, be like that,” Voldemort huffed. “But if I wasn’t Voldemort, then how could I know about that birthmark on your left bum?”

“Try again, Potter,” Snape smirked. “That was revealed in the Daily Prophet last week. So that doesn’t prove anything.”

Voldemort was quite caught off guard. “It was in the newspaper?”

“Yes.” Snape looked somewhat uncomfortable. “Little mix-up of a massage clinic and the Anti-Gay Union…”

Voldemort couldn’t help but laugh.

“Detention!” Snape barked.



“Lonely. I’m so lonely, I have nobody to call my own. I’m so lonely, I’m Mr. Lonely, I have nobody to call my oowwnn.”

Harry was bobbing his head to his own humming. He had been singing so many different songs that he couldn’t remember which was which. His choice of songs followed his mood completely “ well, with the exception of ‘I’m not a girl, not yet a woman.’



Voldemort was waiting with Ron outside their Muggle Studies classroom. The class was quite small with only two Ravenclaws, four Hufflepuffs, and Voldemort and Ron. They were beckoned into the classroom where they met their new teacher. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs of course knew him but he was new to the newly transferred Voldemort and Ron.

“Hello, welcome to my class,” the Professor greeted them. “I’m Professor Kelsey.”

The Professor was a fairly short man but young, probably still in his thirties. He looked sort of fragile with the little smile and neatly ironed shirt of his. His robe was of black velvet, and his trousers only reached two inches above his ankle.

“Nice to meet you Professor,” Ron smiled, clearly happy to be rid off Divination.

Professor Kelsey and Ron looked a little expectantly at Voldemort, so he hurriedly said, “Yeah, sure, nice to see you.”

“Well, then…” Professor Kelsey looked at little offended by Voldemort’s careless greeting but started the class nonetheless with a smile. “Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, I’ll just inform you of our whereabouts in the curriculum. We have up until now worked on the Muggles’ communication methods, and we have just begun on their most popular entertainment options where technology meets the art of acting.”

“Also known as films,” he added. Now that he had brought Voldemort and Ron up to date, he turned to look at the whole class. “Hogwarts, well more precisely Dumbledore, has provided us a magical substitute for what the Muggles call a television. I have, of course, enlarged it since it was humiliatingly small. Well, here it is.”

He drew away a black silk curtain “ obviously not real silk, Voldemort thought “ which revealed a television taking up the whole back wall. “This is almost what the Muggles call a cinema,” Professor Kelsey continued, “which is a television only larger. Dumbledore and I have decided to call this enchanted and enlarged television a Magivision.”

“A cinema disseminates moving pictures,” Professor Kelsey continued, “and I have decided to show you such a film from the Muggle world. We will, throughout the year, watch several films in order to understand the Muggles’ way of thinking and this unbelievably beautiful art of filming.”

Voldemort looked sceptically at the Magivision. To think that he was supposed to waste his valuable time on Muggle stuff!

Life just isn’t fair sometimes, he thought glumly.

“We will start with one of my own favourites, an absolute classic,” Professor Kelsey announced with a smile. “Clueless.”



Boredom seemed to consume Harry. No songs entered his mind for it seemed there was nothing left. Being imprisoned and having nothing to do was really the worst kind of torture. Seriously, going back to singing ‘I’m not a girl, not yet a woman’ was as low as it could get.

Harry was just about to recite the ‘Hokey Pokey’ just for the heck of it, when the western door opened and three men entered. Lucius Malfoy, Bucklenott, and Rookwood.

“So…” Bucklenott began, a pleased smile on his face, “How are you, son?”

“Just brilliant, father,” Harry replied.

“Are you sure about that?” Bucklenott continued, clearly not convinced and determined to make Harry confess his utter misery.

“Yes,” Harry smiled. “Actually, in my state of complete happiness, I thought of throwing a party for my fellow prisoners, but those rats had obviously more important places to go…”

“Indeed,” Bucklenott sneered.

“Jeez, Potter,” Rookwood began, “Hakuna matata!”

“Come again?” Harry asked, one eyebrow raised.

“It means no worries for the rest of your days,” Rookwood continued. “HA! God, I’m so funny! You have nothing but worries left, boy!”

“Oh, that’s just hilarious!” Harry remarked sarcastically. “Really, you should tour.”

Rookwood, in a state of giggles, managed to say, “God, I’m so funny I’ll kill myself!”

“I wish you would,” Harry mumbled.



“That was brilliant!” Voldemort exclaimed happily when he and Ron were on their way from the Muggle Studies class to the Great Hall for lunch. “That Alicia Silverstone was hot!”

“Yeah, that film was great,” Ron agreed. “I didn’t know Muggles could do such things!”

“Neither did I,” Voldemort replied. “I can’t wait to see the next film Professor Kelsey brings.”

Voldemort, in a state of shock, stopped immediately in the middle of the corridor. What am I doing? I’m complimenting Muggle entertainment! Stop it! Think black. Think death. Think misery. Think merciless deaths of people with unworthy bloodlines.

“I didn’t like that film at all,” Voldemort concluded.

“What? You just said you loved it,” Ron responded.

“That wasn’t me talking, that was the accumulation of blood when I had to sit and watch that nonsense for over an hour!”



“Stop this nonsense!” Bucklenott barked. He knocked Rookwood in the side to make him stop laughing. “We did not come here to watch you, Rookwood, demonstrate the meaning of ‘no humour.’ Would you just shut the hell up?!”

Rookwood, in a strange attempt of putting and end to his fit of laughter, sucked in his lips. Alas, it didn’t work. Choking sounds of muffled laughter appeared from inside his mouth and soon he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“OUT!”

“Wow, Bucklenott, your imitation of Voldemort is flawless,” Harry announced.

“Thank you,” Bucklenott smiled, then corrected himself, “I mean, shut up, silly boy!”

Rookwood was disappearing behind the western door again, and Bucklenott turned to Lucius. “Well…” he began. “Here’s your chance.”

“Are you sure?” Lucius asked.

“Yes, you are second in command,” Bucklenott replied, “Plus, it couldn’t hurt. Well, it could hurt me,” he corrected himself, looking at Harry.

“What are you going to do to me?” Harry asked a bit nervously.

“Lucius was so keen on doing this,” Bucklenott responded dryly, “and I saw no reason why he shouldn’t be allowed to.”

“You insinuated that I am going to get hurt,” Harry continued, his heartbeat quickening.

“Yes,” Lucius answered, “I am very good at this.”

Harry looked absolutely horrified.

“I can’t assure you of your safety,” Lucius finished.

“Are you ready?” Bucklenott asked Lucius.

“More than ready,” he smiled and pulled out something white from his pocket.

Harry watched with wide horror-stricken eyes as Lucius unfolded the white cloth-like thing. It wasn’t a cloth though, for its material was somewhat stiff, like plastic. Lucius had now completed the unfolding and held the cloth out in front of him. As he turned it around and laid it on the floor, Harry instantly recognized it.

Red, blue, green, and yellow dots lay spread across the otherwise white cloth. As Lucius straightened up, Harry saw at his feet, clearly written in red letters, ‘Twister.’



Voldemort was aching with all the thoughts running inside his brain. He needed to get on with his master plan and not get distracted by silly Muggle films with hot teenage girls with long blond hair and a great sense of fashion and… Huh? Got distracted there again. The plan. Yes, what to do, what to do…? I need to get some information. But how?

“Harry, can I borrow your Invisibility Cloak tonight?” Hermione asked sweetly.

“Just a minute, Hermione, I’m just thinking about something…” Voldemort replied, utterly into finding a solution to his problem. How can I get information without being seen doing so?

“Harry,” Hermione waved a hand in front of Voldemort and continued, “Your Invisibility Cloak. Can I borrow it?”

“Just a second!” Voldemort repeated. God, can’t the girl tell I’m pondering over something?! Okay, what can I use to get information secretly without being noticed? Hey… did she just say Invisibility Cloak?

“So sorry, Hermione, what did you say?” Voldemort asked sweetly.

“I asked if I could borrow your Invisibility Cloak tonight.”

I have an Invisibility Cloak! Perfect!

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just go find it.” With a huge smile on his face, Voldemort went to the Gryffindor tower on the seventh floor.



“Right hand, yellow.”

Lucius put his right hand eagerly on the yellow dot. Bucklenott spun the arrow again and announced, “Potter, left foot, red.”

Harry moved his left foot from its position on a green spot to the best red spot available. He was now standing quite uncomfortably because of that last move; his legs were crossed, his left hand between them, and his right hand position dangerously close to Lucius’ bum.

Bucklenott spun the arrow again and announced, “Lucius, right foot, green.”

Lucius grinned as his position now lightened; he was now squatted comfortably in one end of the cloth. “Ha, Potter, I knew you couldn’t beat me!” He looked overall satisfied with the progress of the game and continued, “No one has ever beaten me. Once Severus and I stayed up a whole night because he was determined to win. Well, of course that didn’t happen.”

“Enough talk,” Bucklenott interrupted. “Potter, left hand, green.”

Harry groaned as his position worsened. Though he was grateful that Lucius’ last move had removed his bum from the vicinity of Harry’s right hand, Harry was now balancing on his fingertips, determined not to fall.

“Ooh, not comfortable are we?” Lucius sneered.

“Perfectly so,” Harry managed to say though all his muscles were on edge in trying to hold him up.

“Lucius, left foot, blue,” Bucklenott announced.

Lucius didn’t look too happy about that but moved nonetheless. He had to take a blue spot that wasn’t so close to him because Harry was occupying the two that were closest to him.

“May I compliment you on your litheness, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry smiled.

“Why, thank you, son,” Lucius smiled back then grimaced at his own words. “Your turn,” he spat.



Voldemort looked everywhere in his dormitory for the Invisibility Cloak but luck, it seemed, just didn’t suit him. He returned glumly to Ron and Hermione where he had left them in the library.

“Did you get it?” Hermione asked eagerly.

“No,” Voldemort sulked. “Do either of you have any idea where it might be?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve lost it,” Hermione replied.

“Then I’m not sure what to say…”

“Well,” Ron began, crumbling up a piece of parchment he had been writing on, “I haven’t seen it since we went to Hogsmeade yesterday.”

“Shit,” Voldemort mumbled, realizing that Harry must still have it on him.

“Please refrain from any more disgraceful vocabulary, Harry,” Hermione huffed.

Ron raised an eyebrow at her request. “Anyway… Harry, I’m sure you’ve got the Cloak in your room, just check again.”

“You’re probably right,” Voldemort responded, very well aware of him not being right at all.

That stupid boy’s got the Cloak! I must contact my loyal servants. Tonight.

“Bonjour tous le monde!” a French voice reached their ears. Voldemort, Hermione and Ron turned to look to the doors of the library and found Fleur walking towards them, shopping bags in each hand. “I just had ze most wonderful day!”

“That’s great,” Voldemort replied, smiling. Wait! Am I being happy for someone else? That can’t be good…

Fleur dropped all her bags in front of Voldemort and exclaimed, “Oh, ‘Arry, darling!” she embraced him in a tight hug. Releasing him, she gave him a swift kiss. “Let us ‘ave a nice and quiet night tonight.”

“Sure, I just have to go do something first,” Voldemort replied.

“Okay,” Fleur smiled. “I can show ‘Ermione all ze wonderful zings I bought in ze meantime!”

Hermione looked absolutely horrified, “Do you have to?” she pleaded.

“Oh, ‘Ermione, you are so funny!” Fleur giggled.

Voldemort said that he would just go look again for his Cloak, but did not have any intention of searching since he knew Harry must still have it. He would just have to contact his nonentities.



“Right foot, red.”

Harry moved his foot to the best possible red spot. He was now more firmly positioned but his head was nauseatingly close to Lucius’ armpit.

“Lucius, left hand, yellow,” Bucklenott continued.

Lucius, who was becoming more and more competitive by the minute, was now sweating and had a determined look in his blue-grey eyes. He moved his left hand shakily to a good yellow spot and managed to smirk to Harry once he had managed to control his crooked position.

Suddenly the fireplace made a loud ‘pop’ and the flames enlarged for a moment then settled down. Lucius was so startled he lost his footing and sat down hard on the cloth.

“HA! I won!” Harry exclaimed.

Lucius was fuming but had no opportunity to respond because he was interrupted.

“WHAT IN MY NAME IS GOING ON HERE?!”

Harry’s head whipped around so fast he swore he heard his neck crack. He saw his own head floating in the fireplace, a furious look in his eyes.

“My lord,” Bucklenott whispered, bowing obsequiously.

Lucius got to his feet in no time and imitated Bucklenott but with an even lower bow. “My lord.”

“You better have a good explanation for this!” Harry had cunningly figured out that his head in the fireplace was Voldemort in the effects of the Polyjuice Potion.

“We were…” Bucklenott mumbled, “we were… torturing Potter… with this game… because he is colour-blind and the different coloured dots make him dizzy.”

“I said a good explanation, Bucklenott!” Voldemort roared.

Bucklenott whimpered and bowed twice.

“I do not have time for an explanation anyway,” Voldemort announced. “We have more important matters at hand.”

“Indeed, sir?” Lucius asked.

“Indeed,” Voldemort repeated. “The Potter boy has an Invisibility Cloak and I wish to find it! You must interrogate him. If he does not speak freely, use our torturing methods!”

“We will begin right away, master,” Lucius bowed.

“Good,” Voldemort huffed. “And if I ever catch you doing something like this again, you’d wish you were never born.”

He scowled one last time and then vanished with a ‘pop’.



“And I ‘ave also got zis,” Fleur continued excitedly, holding up a light pink skirt in front of her hips.

“That’s very nice, Fleur, but don’t you think you should be getting along now?” Hermione asked, with plea evident in her voice.

“No, not yet,” Fleur smiled, clearly not catching the hint Hermione was throwing at her. “I will just show you one last thing.”

Ron groaned along with Hermione. The library had not many students left and Ron was getting extremely tired of the fashion show that had been laid upon him.

Fleur took out a small black thing from her last bag. It was an extremely see-through top which she now held out in front of her. Ron’s interest suddenly grew from non-existent to bursting point, and he eagerly stated, “Looks good, Fleur, but I could better judge it if you put it on.”

Hermione threw him a furious look.

Fleur just smiled and said, “No. Sorry, Ron, I am only wearing zis for ‘Arry.”

“Bugger it.”



“All right, Potter,” Lucius sneered. “Where is your Invisibility Cloak?”

Harry had been put back into the cage after the departure of Voldemort’s head and was now sitting with his arms crossed. “If you think I’m going to tell you where it is just like that, you’ve got a lot to learn,” he replied stubbornly.

“What if I promised you another lollipop?” Lucius proposed.

“Nope.”

“An apple?”

“Nope.”

“A year’s subscription to Horse and Hound magazine?”

“Mmhh… tempting, but no.”

“Argh!” Lucius burst out. “He is unbreakable!”

“You’re pathetic, Lucius, you know that?” Bucklenott sighed. “Promises like that won’t get you anywhere. Torture is the right way to go.”

“What do you suggest?” Lucius asked, interested.

“Oh, I have a lot of torturing methods up my sleeve,” Bucklenott smirked.

“They can’t be that frightening since they can fit in there,” Harry pointed out.

“This is no time for your stupid one-liners, Potter!” Bucklenott fumed. "But I guess you’ll just have to see,” Bucklenott snorted. “You’ll see.”

“Bring it on,” Harry smirked, feeling utterly ready for whatever sad excuse for a torturing method Bucklenott possessed.

“All right,” Bucklenott began, “Let’s see what smart things the famous Harry Potter will have to say when he knows what horrors lie ahead.”

Harry nodded confidently for him continue.

“Reruns of ‘The Bachelor’.”

“NO!” Harry cried out in agony. “Anything but that! Please! NO!”



Voldemort sat in one of the armchairs when Ron, Hermione and Fleur entered. Hermione, who was extremely red-eyed, said, “I have seen enough fashion to last a lifetime.”

“You really should reconsider that statement,” Voldemort replied, looking with a disgusted eye at her pink cardigan and her rainbow-coloured belt.

“I choose to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Hermione huffed.



After several hours of reruns, Harry was beginning to see no hope. He was sweating and at this point knew the episodes so well he cited the characters’ sentences seconds before they themselves did. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. The pain was inexplicable and soon he croaked, “Shire… Baggins…”

“HA!” Lucius yelled out in glee. “Your torture method worked, Bucklenott!”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Bucklenott replied icily. “Go find the Cloak!”

Lucius hurried out of the eastern door and Bucklenott turned off the reruns, making Harry exhale in relief.


____
A/N: Reference:

“Shire… Baggins…”
- Gollum, The Lord of the Rings
Back to index
Rematch by Eilime
MOMENTOUS CHANGE

CHAPTER V
REMATCH



Lucius came bursting in through the main door, his eyes vivid and on the verge of popping out. “You!” He approached the cage dangerously, pointing furiously at Harry, and then continued, “I went all the way to Middle Earth only to find… guess what?… NOTHING! There was no point in sending me there, you stupid boy. It was totally worthless! Orcs everywhere! And there was this big flaming eyeball-thingy that kept eyeing me up and down. I mean as if! Can’t believe I thought you were telling the truth! No Invisibility Cloaks whatsoever! Totally pointless! The only bright side was that I met this really nice chap. Gimli, that was his name. He told me about this quest he was on… Hilarious! And to think we have problems! Oh, but this Gimli was so funny, you should have been there, Bucklenott!”

“Lucius,” Bucklenott was almost boiling with rage. “Are you quite finished with tales of your boyfriend? We have work to do “ we have to continue this interrogation since we walked into a dead end!”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Lucius replied sulkily at being prevented from further explanations. But Harry was almost sure he heard Lucius adding in a mumble, “…yet.”



Voldemort woke up with nervousness in his pores. He wanted so badly to know if his servants had found out where Harry hid his Cloak. He knew he would have to wait until the evening to contact them again, because using the common room’s fireplace in the middle of the day did not seem like a possibility.

Voldemort, after taking a shower, dressed quickly and left for the Great Hall and breakfast. He had only been back at Hogwarts for two days but remembered the fastest way to the Great Hall clearly. He sat down next to Fleur; Hermione opposite her.

“Good morning, sweet pea,” Fleur cooed.

“Morning,” Voldemort smiled, and got a quick peck on the cheek by his girlfriend. He could definitely get use to this life of Potter’s.

“Darling…” Fleur began, now less cheerful, “I ‘ave to go back to France today.”

“What?” Voldemort asked. “Why?”

“My mozzer and fazzer miss me and I’m starting my studies next week,” she answered sadly.

“Oh, really?” Hermione asked, interested. “What are you studying?”

“I’m going to study ‘Torture Methods and Red Nails’ at ze ‘ighest level at ze University of Veela,” Fleur smiled.

“Interesting…” Hermione nodded with one eyebrow raised.

“So, anyway,” Fleur continued, “I will just go pack.”

“All right,” Voldemort replied sadly.

“I zink we should just end what we ‘ad, ‘Arry,” Fleur stated. “I’m not good at long-distance relationships.”

“Okay…” Voldemort sighed.

“Besides, I’ve met someone else,” Fleur added.

“What?!” Voldemort was seriously hurt now. “Already?”

Fleur snorted, “As if you didn’t know about me and Neville Longbottom.”

“And Justin Finch-Fletchery…” she added.

“…and Padma Patil.”

“WHAT?!”



“I’m going to ask you, Potter, and I’m only going to ask you once,” Bucklenott warned. “Where is your Invisibility Cloak?”

“Not going to tell you, chica,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you, Potter, and I’m only going to ask you twice,” Bucklenott continued. “Where is your Invisibility Cloak?”

“Why do you even think I have one?” Harry asked.

“The Dark Lord said you did,” Lucius smirked.

“Oh, yeah, then it must be true “ Voldemort’s always right,” Harry mocked.

“Yes,” Bucklenott replied icily.

“Wasn’t he one of those guys who until recently thought the Earth was flat?” Harry asked arrogantly.

Bucklenott looked at tad embarrassed, “He… he was mislead.”

“Yeah, to the wrong queue when they handed out brains,” Harry snorted.

“Silence!” Lucius barked.

“It’s not my fault Voldemort was from the days when you thought it helped on warts to swing a dead cat over your head at full moon!” Harry responded icily.

“You will not insult the master further!” Bucklenott warned.

“Oh, yeah?!”

“YEAH!”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“HA!” Bucklenott snorted. “You forget, Potter, that I have already found your weakness. Lucius, turn on the reruns of ‘The Bachelor’.

Harry’s eyes widened in horror, but Lucius mumbled, “We don’t have that tape anymore…” He was looking at his feet, the right one obsequiously tracing a line in the wooden floor.

“And why, may I ask, not?” Bucklenott asked, his voice dangerously low.

“Erm…” Lucius looked utterly uncomfortable. “I watched it all night and apparently the tape couldn’t handle it and burst into flames.”

“You fool!” Bucklenott fumed.

“At least I did not use all night downloading adult films from the Wizard Network!” Lucius spat.

“Stick to the point!” Bucklenott spluttered.



Hermione, who had just spent two hours in the library, having a very heartbreaking conversation, entered the Gryffindor common room with a sad expression. She sat down with a huge sigh next to Ginny on the couch. “Malfoy and I just broke up.”

“YES! Finally!” Ginny exclaimed. “I mean… oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry.”

“Thank you, Ginny,” Hermione smiled, “you’re such a good and understanding friend with no ulterior motives.”

“That’s me!” Ginny smiled, patting Hermione awkwardly on the back.

Hermione felt so thankful for having such a good friend. She smiled as her other two best friends entered the common room.

“Hey,” Harry said as he sat down opposite Hermione and Ginny.

“Hey, Harry, Ron,” Hermione smiled weakly.

“Something wrong, ‘Mione?” Ron asked.

“Malfoy and I just ended our relationship,” Hermione answered. “Well, you couldn’t actually call it a Relationship, but Two Enemies Who Occasionally Shag And Have Nothing But Physical Attraction Towards Each Other is just too long a description to remember.”

Ron apparently didn’t know what to say because he just gave her an affectionate smile and then turned to Harry. “Oh, Harry, I just heard about Fleur and Terry Boot. So sorry for you, mate.”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed. “Him too?!”

Ron looked quite put out by Harry’s outburst.

“All tight, that’s it!” Harry stated, turning around in his armchair to face the whole common room. “Who in here has NOT been with Fleur Delacour at any time?!”

A couple of first year girls and a fourth year boy with impurities raised their hands.

“I don’t believe it!”



“All right,” Bucklenott calmed down, “we’ll just have to come up with another form of torture.”

“In the film area?” Harry asked.

“Yes, if we can find a film that you equally loathe,” Bucklenott answered.

“How about the Lord of the Rings?” Harry proposed.

“You hate that?” Lucius asked hopefully.

“Yes, can’t stand it!” Harry answered, mock-shuddering.

“Well, then,” Bucklenott smiled. “Find that film, Lucius.”

“Shall do,” Lucius replied and went out of the southern door.

*


Lucius returned only minutes later with a tape in his hand. “It’s just the first one of the three,” he announced.

“That’ll do,” Bucklenott smirked. He laughed and continued, “Prepare to unveil the secret of the whereabouts of your Invisibility Cloak, Potter!”

Lucius started the film and Harry positioned himself as comfortably as possible. After a while, Harry couldn’t help himself from doing the lines along with the characters. “If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword “ And you have my bow “ And my ass. Whoops! ‘Axe’, I always let that one slip!”

Bucklenott narrowed his eyes in comprehension. “I’m beginning to doubt that this is torture to the boy, Lucius.”

“I think you’re right,” Lucius replied.

“Really?” Bucklenott asked excitedly. “That’s never happened before.”

“Oh, Bucklenott, you silly old thing,” Lucius giggled, dismissing the idea with a waving hand. “You’re just being modest.”

Bucklenott giggled along with him but abruptly stopped when he remembered the situation. “Lucius, stop the film!”

Lucius hurriedly stopped it and awaited Bucklenott’s continuation.

“This is the last time you mislead us!” Bucklenott fumed, his eyes boring dangerously into Harry’s. “We will break you. Oh, yes… we will.”

“How?” Harry snorted.

“We will find a way,” Bucklenott replied smoothly. “Lucius, watch the boy. I’ll be back soon.”

“Sure,” Lucius responded and sat down on a chair next to the cage as Bucklenott disappeared through the western door.

“So, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry began. “Did you like the film?”

“Yeah,” Lucius shrugged. “But that dwarf reminds me of someone… wait a minute! That was Gimli! But then… he was just an actor. He was just acting. I can’t believe he mislead me like that! And I thought we had a future together, but it’s no way to start a relationship with lies! Oh, the horrible lies! He wasn’t even the real Gimli.” Lucius was now sobbing into the sleeves of his robes. “How could he lie to me?! Oh, men are so insensitive!”

Harry was quite startled by Lucius’ sudden flow of emotions but saw no other option than to stretch his arm out of the cage bars and pat Lucius on the back.

“But maybe,” Lucius continued, sniffing, “maybe I should have picked up on him only acting when he said ‘Get away from the camera line! They’re filming!’”



Voldemort was in a very bad mood. To find out one’s girlfriend had been with two thirds of the Gryffindor house, two boys from Hufflepuff, and a Ravenclaw girl was one thing, but not getting dessert after lunch was a completely different thing.

Voldemort was fuming when we walked with Ron to their Muggle Studies class.

After the students had entered and Professor Kelsey had given them an assignment to be handed in the next week, the Professor put on another film. Voldemort positioned himself comfortably with his feet up as the Magivision showed the second film of his life. Secretly he liked the concept and was rather looking forward to this next one. He watched expectantly as the words Mary Poppins appeared in yellow letters.



Harry sat alone in the dark room of the Riddle House; Lucius had left him only minutes ago to go call on his mother. Harry was resting his head on his arms, looking up into the extremely filthy ceiling. Suddenly he heard a door being roughly opened, and he looked to the side to see Bucklenott approach his cage.

“Ready for torture?” he asked, smirking.

“Yes,” Harry answered simply.

“Ready for horror?”

“Yes.”

“Ready for intolerable cruelty?”

“What? The film?”

“No, the pain.”

“Then yes.”

“Damn!” Bucklenott stomped his foot on the floor. “How come you’re ready for all this?! You’re not supposed to be! The bad guys are supposed to bring this upon you without you knowing it!”

“See, that’s where your little theory goes wrong,” Harry replied, sitting up. “I’m not your average hero. I’m Harry Potter. There’s no one out there like me. Superman, Batman, Spiderman… nuh-uh, I’m the real thing. For God’s sake, I’m Harry freaking Potter.”

“Wow, you really think highly of yourself, don’t you?” Bucklenott asked, resting his hands on his hips, his head askew.

“No, I’m an altruist.”

“Yes, that very clear,” Bucklenott mocked. He shook his head in disbelief but suddenly stopped as comprehension dawned on his face. Harry looked a little stunned by this change of expression and awaited nervously the reason for it.

“Thank you, boy,” Bucklenott smiled. “You’ve just given me the idea for the perfect torture.”

“I-I have?”

“Yes, you seem quite pleased with yourself and your reputation,” Bucklenott explained, “which I only can imagine includes your scar.”

“My scar?” Harry asked anxiously.

“Yes, Potter, your scar,” Bucklenott smirked. “The famous image you’ve got is obviously of great importance to you. A great deal of this fame is thanks to your scar, therefore I think you would be just distraught if that scar was to disappear…”

“That’s all you’ve got?” Harry grinned. “This scar was touched by a curse, and an evil curse that is! You can’t just make it disappear.”

“Oh, yes, I can,” Bucklenott smirked, “if I cover it up with a tattoo.”

*


Harry looked completely horror-struck. “A tattoo?! No, this is my trademark! Everyone has to have a trademark! For Draco Malfoy it’s the smirk, for Ron it’s the red hair and freckles, for Dumbledore it’s the white beard and half-moon spectacles, for Arnold Swarzenegger it’s the huge muscles, which are too big in my opinion, but we can discuss that another day… My point is that you can’t do it. You just can’t. Take Jennifer Lopez, for example. If you took away her butt there would be nothing left! Only a woman with no singing voice and extremely bad taste in men! My scar is a restricted area “ No tattoos allowed!”

“Oh, come on, Potter,” Bucklenott laughed. “Wouldn’t it be just wonderful to have Hello Kitty on your forehead?”

“NOOO!”



“That was just too cool,” Ron exclaimed. Him and Voldemort were walking towards the Great Hall for dinner. Their Muggle Studies class had finished not long ago and they had just dropped their bags off in their dormitory to go to dinner. “The Muggles don’t know about the Wizarding world but they made a film where some chick-”

“Woman.”

“Sorry, Harry,” Ron corrected himself after Voldemort’s input, “…some woman can do magic by snapping her fingers!”

“It was lame,” Voldemort huffed. The truth was though, that he had really enjoyed the film. But if he admitted that, he would break down a great deal of that Dark And Extremely Cruel Wizard image he had going. Of course Ron would just think it was Harry, so no one would have to know, but he would and he couldn’t fulfil his master plan if stupid Muggle stuff clouded his mind.

“No, it wasn’t,” Ron replied with furrowed eyebrows. “I know you didn’t think it was because you were laughing your head off when Poppins won the Derby instead of all those cartoon characters.”

“That was because they were lame,” Voldemort responded childishly.

“Whatever, Harry,” Ron dismissed the subject and sat down next to Hermione at dinner.

Fleur had left in the afternoon, so it was just the three of them left. Voldemort ate quickly; he wanted to get back to the common room before anyone else, so he could contact his servants and see whether or not they had managed to get information on where Harry’s Invisibility Cloak was. When Ron and Hermione asked why he was eating so fast, he just told them he needed to borrow some books for his Muggle Studies essay before Madam Pince locked the library doors.

Bolting through the portrait hole, Voldemort hurriedly made sure no one was in the common room and then proceeded to the fireplace. He stuck his head into the fire, let go of a handful of Floo Powder and said clearly, “Drawing room, the Riddle House, Little Hangleton.”

Almost momentarily the dark room of the Riddle House appeared in front of him. He saw that Bucklenott had stepped into the cage where Harry was now bound to a chair. Bucklenott seemed to be holding some sort of vibrating needle and was approaching a shaking Harry.

“What are you doing?” Voldemort asked slowly. He didn’t want to yell it out because Bucklenott was definitely not doing anything wrong and he didn’t want him to stop whatever he was doing because it definitely had an effect on Harry.

Bucklenott looked over at the fireplace and bowed when he saw Voldemort. “My lord, I am threatening the boy.”

“By doing what?” Voldemort asked curiously, giving the needle-thingy an interested look.

“Long story,” Bucklenott sighed.

“All right, do continue,” Voldemort replied with a nod.

He watched as Bucklenott approached Harry further. The needle was mere inches from his forehead now and Harry was biding his lip, shaking.

“All right!” Harry yelled. “Stop! I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you! Just… turn it off!”

Bucklenott smirked and turned off the needle-thingy that Voldemort still didn’t know what was. Probably some sort of torturing weapon from the eighteenth century, he thought.

“Good,” Bucklenott said. “Now, Potter, tell me where your Invisibility Cloak is.”

“You’re standing on it,” Harry answered almost inaudible.

“I’m standing on it?” Bucklenott snorted.

“Yes, it’s invisible, isn’t it?!” Harry retorted. “I spread it out on the cage floor.”

Bucklenott took a few steps back and squatted down. He felt for the Cloak with his hands across the wooden floor. Voldemort watched with glee as Bucklenott raised his hands again, apparently holding something, though invisible.

“You got it?” Voldemort asked.

“Got it,” Bucklenott smirked. He flipped it over in his hands and the Cloak reappeared in his grasp.

“Perfect,” Voldemort breathed. “Congratulations, Bucklenott. You’ve done well. Excellent torturing method. Perhaps a promotion is in order? I think you will serve me well as Deputy Evil Man.”

“Thank you, my lord!” Bucklenott smiled, and bowed twice.

“Yes, yes, don’t get all teary-eyed,” Voldemort replied moodily, “It’s not like it means anything “ you’re still in the same place in the Hierarchy of Evil, now you just have a title.”

“Oh,” Bucklenott looked temporarily disappointed but knew better than to disagree with his master.

“You will send that Cloak to me asap!” Voldemort instructed. “Don’t send it with the morning post, since people would think it quite strange I got a letter saying it’s to Lord Voldemort. Make it arrive at the Astronomy Tower at night. Tonight.”

“Consider it done,” Bucklenott nodded.

“Done? Already? But you’ve still got the Cloak in your hand! Oh, no, you haven’t sent me an empty parcel, have you?!”

“It’s just a phrase, my lord,” Bucklenott assured him.

“Muggle?”

“No, it’s just common knowledge.”

“Don’t mock me!”



As Hermione and Ron entered the common room, Hermione saw Harry squatted down next to the fireplace. “Harry, what are you doing on the ground?” she asked.

“Er… doing push-ups,” Harry replied.

“Just after dinner?” Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

“Good observation,” Harry smirked.

Hermione pursed her lips and sat down on the couch, crossing her arms. Ron followed her and sat down next to her, and Harry positioned himself in the armchair opposite them.

Hermione drummed her fingers on her crossed arms and then broke the silence, “Isn’t this nice? The three of us sitting comfortably with a whole night available for a good, long, substantial conversation?”

Harry and Ron didn’t seem keen to answer. Silence erupted for a while then Ron exclaimed, “Anyone up for a game of Wizard Chess?”

“Yeah!” Harry answered in a hurry.

Hermione looked quite offended, “Hey!”

*


After two games of Wizard Chess “ halfway through the first one, Hermione left for an early night “ Voldemort checked his wrist watch and saw it was eight thirty. His parcel would arrive at nine o’clock.

“Erm, I have to go, Ron,” he announced.

“Why?” Ron asked.

“I… I have a date.”

“On a school night?”

“Yes.”

“Just after Fleur left you?”

“Yes.”

“At eight thirty when you have to be home before curfew which gives you approximately half an hour?”

“Yes.”

“Is it someone hot?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a boy?”

“Yes. I’m mean no! You tricked me!”

Ron laughed, “All right, Harry, just go.”

Voldemort grinned and left for the Astronomy Tower. He arrived fifteen minutes later and walked over to the edge enjoying the fantastic view of the lake and the forest in the silver moonlight. Not long after, he heard the sound of wings and a soft ‘coo’. Looking up, he saw a large Eagle owl fly in his direction. It landed softly on the edge and beamed at Voldemort for having delivered its parcel to the right person.

Voldemort took the parcel from it and it immediately took off. Voldemort flipped the parcel over and saw Bucklenott tortuous handwriting,

He Who Must Not Be Named
The Astronomy Tower
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
England
Europe
The Earth
The Milky Way

“Ha! It’s not only Dumbledore who can be precise when addressing people,” Voldemort said to himself.

He pocketed the parcel and headed for Gryffindor tower and his bed. Tomorrow he would go undercover and find out all of Dumbledore’s secrets.



Harry woke up at the sound of a knocking of the window. He put on his borrowed pair of square, turquoise glasses and saw the large Eagle owl that Bucklenott had sent off the previous day had returned. Harry, being still locked up in the cage, could not go and open the window.

Lucius appeared from behind the northern door, apparently aware of the return of the owl. He opened the window and let the owl fly inside, saying, “Good, girl.”

The owl flew out of the northern door that Lucius had left open, and Lucius proceeded to Harry’s cage. When he was just outside it, he asked, “Ready for a rematch?”

“Of what?” Harry asked dully.

“Twister, of course!”

“Look, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry sighed. “we already know I’m better at it than you are. I won just yesterday. Do you really want to be humiliated once again?”

“You did not win,” Lucius spat. “I was startled by the sudden appearance of my master.”

“Excuses, excuses…” Harry shook his head.

“It is not an excuse!” Lucius fumed. “I could have won! I would have won had it not been for the disturbing ‘pop’ the fireplace makes when someone’s head appears!”

“Excuses, excuses…” Harry repeated.

“If you say ‘excuses’ one more time I will make you suffer so much your parents will turn in their graves!”

“DON’T TALK ABOUT MY PARENTS!” Harry roared, now on his feet.

“Ooh, touched a nerve, did I?”

Harry didn’t respond. He was breathing heavily and trying his very best not to cry.

“Then I think a rematch is in order,” Lucius smirked.



Voldemort exhaled happily when his last class of the day finished. The day he had gone to Snape to make him understand that he was Voldemort in disguise, “ that conversation did not turn out as he planned “ Snape had given him detention, and therefore Voldemort was now on his way to find Snape and set a date and time.

He found Snape talking in hushed voices with Dumbledore in an alcove. Voldemort slowly drew closer, acting as if he his ears weren’t doing their best to extend and catch whatever they were talking about.

“…secret meeting,” Snape was saying.

“Come to my office at seven tonight, Severus,” Dumbledore replied.

“Very well,” Snape nodded.

Dumbledore walked off down the hall and Voldemort now proceeded towards Snape. Ha! Dumbledore’s office at seven. This is going to be interesting. I’ll sneak along under the Cloak and get this secret information!

“Hello, Potter,” Snape greeted icily. “Your detention.”

“That was exactly what I came to talk to you about, Professor,” Voldemort relied, smiling.

“Good,” Snape replied. “Tomorrow evening eight o’clock sharp. My office.”

“Very well, Professor,” Voldemort nodded and left down the hall.



“Right hand, blue.”

Lucius placed his right hand eagerly on the best blue dot.

“Malfoy, get your hand away from my butt!” Harry yelled in disgust.

“Wow, total déjà vu!” Bucklenott exclaimed.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. He really didn’t want to think about that revelation any further, so he hurriedly said, “Spin the arrow!”

“Oh, right,” Bucklenott blushed. He spun the arrow and then announced, “Potter, left foot, green.”

Harry placed his left foot roughly on a green dot near Lucius, causing him to almost lose his balance.

“You’re cheating!” Lucius hissed after he had managed his footing.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Quit it!” Bucklenott roared. “Lucius, right foot, blue.”



Voldemort was moving silently through the corridors. He remembered from his school days where Dumbledore’s office was. He had never had an Invisibility Cloak before and therefore found it extremely intriguing to be covered by one now and doing merciless sneaking.

He came to the gargoyle only seconds before Snape did. He positioned himself to the side, so Snape could stand right in front of the stone statue and say the password as he did not know it himself.

“A layered chocolate cake with coffee cream,” Snape uttered and the gargoyle sprang to life. Snape stepped onto the rotating staircase and Voldemort hurriedly followed. When Voldemort stepped up behind Snape he suddenly lost his footing and fell to the stone stairs.

“Who’s there?” Snape asked with narrowed eyes.

“No one,” Voldemort answered.

“Phew,” Snape breathed. He stepped off the staircase and knocked twice on Dumbledore’s office door.

“Come in,” Dumbledore’s voice came from behind the door.

Snape opened it and stepped inside. Voldemort slipped past him just as Dumbledore said, “Close the door, Severus.”

Snape obeyed and then positioned himself in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Voldemort watched eagerly, awaiting the incredibly secret information he was about to ruthlessly steal.

“Are you sure about this?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes,” Snape answered.

“Very well,” Dumbledore nodded. “Repeat after me: Do Re Me Far So La Ti.”

“Do Re Me Far So La Ti,” Snape sang along.

“You need to work on your vocals, Severus,” Dumbledore instructed. “And make the ‘Ti’ last longer.”

“Do Re Me Far So La Tiiiiiii,” Snape repeated now more clearly.

“Excellent,” Dumbledore smiled. “I do believe you have a great chance of getting into the Weird Sisters.”

Snape smiled proudly and Dumbledore continued, “Well, you can go again. You don’t need further instructions. Good luck with the audition.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Snape smiled and walked out of the office, Voldemort slipping soundlessly out of the door behind him.

*


Voldemort was in a very bad mood that night when he was trying to sleep. He had got absolutely no information whatsoever. How did they imagine he could gain control over the whole world when singing lessons were all the Bright Side possessed?

He would just have to keep looking out for anything he could use against them.
Back to index
Harry Reloaded by Eilime
MOMENTOUS CHANGE

CHAPTER VI
HARRY RELOADED


Balancing on one foot, the other one twisted around it, a hand behind the back and the other one tangled between the legs was definitely not Harry’s favourite position to sit in for hours. Lucius had an equally awkward position.

“When did Bucklenott say he was coming back?” Harry asked.

“He said it would only take a couple of minutes,” Lucius shrugged.

“Yeah, but it’s been three hours,” Harry pointed out. “Maybe we should just call it a tie and sit down more comfortably.”

“As if, Potter!” Lucius spat. “I’m going to win this game. If you’re so weak you can’t hold that position for a couple of hours, then you’re not worthy of winning something as important as Twister!”

Harry sneered. “You know those tests where they see how old your soul is? If you took it, your results would say that you hadn’t been born yet, that’s how childish you are!”

“God, Potter, what happened to those good one-liners you had in the last chapter?” Lucius asked, frowning. “That one was just pitiful.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry admitted, sighing. “Don’t worry, I’ll come up with some later.”

“Good,” Lucius breathed. “Otherwise our scenes will be just boring; just playing Twister all the time.”

“So, you admit this game is pointless?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Never!”



I can’t believe I have to go to detention! I mean, how am I supposed to gain control over the whole world if my precious time is being so brutally taken away from me?! No time at all for evil schemes!

Plus, I haven’t finished my homework.

Voldemort was walking down the many staircases of Hogwarts, all these thoughts burdening his mind. When he arrived at Snape’s office door, he knocked three times and entered.

“Good,” Snape drawled. “You’re here.”

“What would you like me to do, Professor?” Voldemort asked.

“That cupboard there,” Snape began, nodding his head towards a cupboard with glass windows and many different potion ingredients in it. “You have to remove each glass of its contents, clean the glass, and then put the contents back into it. Then put the glasses back into the cupboard in alphabetical order. Questions?”

“No, sir,” Voldemort replied and headed for the cupboard.

Snape remained at his desk. After ten minutes, Voldemort asked mischievously, “Did you know the Weird Sisters are looking for a new band member?”

“Why would I know anything about that?” Snape asked not looking up from his papers.

“Don’t answer a question with a question,” Voldemort replied.

“Five points from Gryffindor,” Snape spat.

“Why Gryffindor when I go to Sly-” Voldemort stopped himself. “I mean “ darn! You’re so mean.”

Snape smirked and continued his affairs that lay spread across his desk.

“Anyway…” Voldemort began, not feeling like dropping the subject just because Snape was a teacher. “Don’t you think the Weird Sisters would look for female band members?”

Snape apparently chose not to answer.

“I think they will,” Voldemort continued with a hidden smile. “Or maybe they would hire males, too, if they just have long enough hair. Maybe black. And greasy…”

“Is there anything I can do to make you quit talking about silly nonsense and just get on with your detention?” Snape asked irritably.

“No,” Voldemort replied with a shrug then added as an afterthought, “but if you could find Parvati Patil for me and leave the room afterwards, then yes.”

“Five points from Gryffindor.”

Voldemort smiled inwardly; what could he care if Gryffindor lost the House Cup?

“Back to the subject,” Voldemort smiled. “The Weird Sisters.”

Snape sighed loudly.

“What’s the matter, Professor?” Voldemort asked innocently. “Does it make you uncomfortable when I talk about that?”

“No, why would it?”

“You tell me.”

“I think those glasses are clean enough now.”

“But, sir, I’ve only done five glasses.”

“And that’s quite enough,” Snape sneered. “Get along with you.”

“All right,” Voldemort replied with a shrug. He went out of Snape’s office and when he had closed the door, broke out into a huge smile. He had managed to irritate Snape and get out of detention early.

If he wasn’t the perfect Dark Lord then who was?



Bucklenott burst in through the northern door just as Harry was about to give up and sit down. Bucklenott looked furious and was clutching a piece of paper in one hand.

Lucius did not seem to notice the ominous sparkling eyes of his fellow Death Eater and exclaimed impatiently, “Finally! Jeez, we’ve been sitting here for over three hours!”

“Both of you!” Bucklenott fumed. “Get up!”

“But… But, Bucklenott,” Lucius stammered. “The game...”

“We have no time for silly games!” Bucklenott shouted.

“You take that back!” Lucius demanded, trembling with rage.

“Get up, boy!” Bucklenott hissed and heaved Harry up from his uncomfortable position onto his legs again. Harry was secretly very pleased to be taken out of the game. “Lucius, up!”

“B-but-”

“Potter is already up, you can’t play by yourself anyway!” Bucklenott continued.

Harry watched with glee as Lucius reluctantly got to his feet and straightened up, and he was sure he heard Lucius mumble, “Oh, yes, I can.”

Lucius smoothed out his robes with evident loath towards Bucklenott in his eyes as he did so. Bucklenott forcefully threw Harry back into the cage which magically locked itself. “What is so important, then?” Lucius asked in a bored tone.

“I have here,” Bucklenott replied, holding up the piece of parchment Harry had noticed, “a letter from our master. So far, he has had no luck in gaining secret information. He requests that we come up with ideas to help him gain control over the Earth.”

“Not a simple task,” Harry put in.

“Maybe not for you, you incompetent, bland, little gnome,” Bucklenott sneered. “But we happen to be well-educated Death Eaters.”

“That’s not saying much,” Harry mumbled.

“Shut up, boy,” Bucklenott spat.

“Then if you’re so clever, then come up with a good idea now,” Harry remarked.

“Fine!” Bucklenott breathed. “Hold this for me then,” he said as he handed the letter from Voldemort, another piece of paper and what appeared to be a small box to Harry.

“What is it?” Harry asked as he accepted the three items through the metal bars of his cage.

“It’s the letter from my master, a to-do list, and the key to the cage in which you now reside,” Bucklenott snapped. “But don’t interrupt me, I need to come up with a good plan!”

Harry shrugged and looked at the items now in his hands. His unfurled a piece of parchment lazily and looked down at Bucklenott’s to-do list. As he was reading, “3. Must buy new hair care products,” Harry remembered what Bucklenott had just said, …and the key to the cage in which you now reside… Mmhh...

Harry hurriedly put away the parchment and opened the small box, now revealing a glimmering emerald green key, its handle made of entwined serpents. He put the key into his pocket and closed the small box just as Bucklenott exclaimed, “HA! I’ve got an idea! Give me back those things now.”

Harry handed the three items back to him with a feeling of utter relief when Bucklenott did not open the box to check whether its contents still were there.

“What’s your idea, then?” Harry asked calmly.

“I’m not going to say it in front of you,” Bucklenott smirked.

“You know that just means you’ve got nothing,” Harry replied.

“Does not.”

“Suit yourself,” Harry shrugged. “Why don’t you get out of here then, and tell your ickle little friends about your ‘master plan’.”

Bucklenott scowled but nevertheless ushered Lucius out of the eastern door, yelling, “Gather everybody in the Room of Evil and Mercilessness.”

“You mean the drawing room?” Lucius asked.

“Yes…”



Voldemort exhaled loudly as he sat down on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. Gryffindor Tower was becoming very agreeable to him all of a sudden. He somehow liked the comfortable chair, the roaring fire, the camaraderie between him and his friends.

But, of course, Voldemort thought, they weren’t exactly his friends, but Harry’s.

Ron and Hermione came in through the portrait hole and joined him in front of the fire. Voldemort let Hermione’s head rest against his shoulder, as she yawned how tired she was.

Voldemort was thinking “ not an easy task, but he was trying very hard. Something was troubling him. There was something wrong in letting Hermione rest her head against him, but Voldemort, though wracking his brain endlessly to solve the inexplicable mystery, couldn’t see why. He was supposed to do something, he knew that. But what? Cuddle her? Stroke her hair? Shove her away and howl about being contaminated by a Mudblood? Kiss her forehead?

Perhaps. But he didn’t know which one was most proper.



When Harry saw the last bit of Lucius’ cloak disappear after Bucklenott through the door, he immediately pulled out the small key from his pocket and looked at it with the feeling of freedom bobbling madly inside him. He skid across his cell to the door and stuck his arm out through the bars. He struggled to get the key into the hole with his arm oddly bent, but suddenly, with his heart bumping hard and fast against his chest, he heard it click.

Stopping himself from yelling in exultation, he ran out through the door, almost able to hear a church choir singing “Hallelujah” in the background.

He reached the door that led out of the room and put his ear to it, listening for any kind of movement. When he heard nothing, he opened the door slowly and peeked outside. An empty corridor met his green eyes and he hurled himself out of the room and down the hall.

He sprinted down the stairs, though making no sound, of course, and ended up in what looked like an entrance hall. The Door To Freedom loomed beautifully ahead.

Harry mentally heard the roll of drums as he took a step towards the main entrance. Another step, another step. No one seemed to have noticed or heard him. Another step. He was nearly there. Another step. He stood on the doormat, his shaking hand reaching for the dusty gold handle. He turned it and opened it, his eyes closed. When he had opened the door completely, he smiled, still with his eyes closed, and breathed in what he expected freedom would smell like.

He wouldn’t have assumed freedom would smell like port, sweat and wet dog though, but what did he know?

He opened his eyes but they rested not on freedom but on a very grumpy-looking man.

“How did you escape from you very well-guarded cell?” Avery asked incredulously.

“C’mon, now, Avy-boy,” Harry replied, thinking fast. “I’m not Harry. It’s me “ Nott. I’ve just drunk Polyjuice Potion.”

“Really?” Avery replied, nonplussed. “You have those urges too?”

“Erm… yeah…?”

“I find changing into Harry Potter quite relaxing,” Avery revealed with a look of bliss on his face. What Harry had meant as an escape now felt quite nauseating; people changing into him for fun? And apparently getting a bit more out of it that he would care to know? Yuck.

“Well, nice chatting with you, Avery, but I have business to attend to,” Harry said quickly, trying to get past the Death Eater on the threshold.

“You were called for that meeting too, I s’pect?” Avery nodded. “It’s in the Room of Evil and Mercilessness though.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just going outside first to… erm…” Harry’s mind was wheeling but he couldn’t come up with anything.

“Ah. No worries. I understand. I get those urges too.” Avery winked. Harry looked revolted. “I’ll see you in a bit then,” Avery finished and walked past Harry into the house.

Harry sighed in relief and walked out of the door. Now this was how freedom should smell; fresh air, green grass, and then the fact that Harry hadn’t showered for a couple of days.



Hug her? Caress her milky skin? Slice her throat? Whisper sweet nothings in her ear?



Harry ran but he didn’t know exactly where to run to. He remembered having crossed a bridge while bound and floating, so he gazed across the field he on which he was now standing.

There. Just a little way ahead lay the bridge. The Bridge To Freedom. Harry sprinted towards it and before he stepped on it, he drew in a large breath and crossed it. Well, first he had to get rid of the dizziness the large breath had resulted in but then he crossed it.

Harry reached a forest in which the birds sang beautifully, the plants grew peacefully, the animals curiously sniffing around the ground, the stereo blasting out with a rock song Harry did not know.

Wait. Stereo?

Stuff it, Harry told himself; he was on his way to freedom, nothing was going to delay him. He reached the edge of the forest where the sight of the first houses of Hogsmeade welcomed him. He ran down a small road and turned left to the main road, skipping down through the village. He came to the road that led to Hogwarts and stopped, panting. There it was. The Road To Freedom.

Regaining his breath just enough, Harry started running again. After what seemed like hours running down a country road, he reached the gate topped with winged boars. He stopped and looked at Hogwarts with relief. The Castle of Freedom.

“Would you stop the ‘Freedom’ thing?!” the readers yelled angrily, throwing apples at the monotonous progression of the story.



Massage her? Snuggle close to her? Inhale her flowery scent? Wring her neck? Kiss her?



Harry stormed through the castle doors and sprinted up the Grand Staircase. He needed to find Ron and Hermione; when he found them, he’d find Voldemort; when he found Voldemort, he’d find his destiny; when he found his destiny, he’d… see what it had in store for him…

He reached the Fat Lady in no time and dug in his heels to stop. Stepping out of the twelve-inch deep brake marks, Harry panted, what he hoped still was, the password, “Detergentus.”

“Sorry, no,” the Fat Lady replied crisply and returned to her game of cards with Sir Cadogan’s fat, grey pony.

“Argh!” Harry uttered, stomping his foot on the stone floor.

“Hiya, Harry!”



Braid her hair?



Colin Creevy’s squeaky voice reached Harry’s ears, and Harry winced at the prospect of asking the insolent boy for help.

“Of course, Harry!” Colin piped up after Harry had, somehow, managed to ask for the new password. “It’s ‘deoxygenation’, Harry.”

“Deoxygenation!” Harry exclaimed, making the Fat Lady drop her pair of aces in surprise.

“All right, all right,” she huffed, letting him through.

“I’ll go in with you, Harry,” Colin exclaimed excitedly. “Is that okay, Harry? Wow, I like your new glasses, Harry. Turquoise really does match your eyes, Harry. Where did you get them, Harry?”

Colin tailed after Harry into the common room where he found Ron snoring, lying sideways on a plush armchair; Hermione resting her head on an identical Harry “ Voldemort “ who was muttering something about blowing softly into someone’s ear.

“Ron! Hermione!” Harry yelled, making them jump in their seats to look at him.

Their eyes bulging, they slowly got off their chairs, eyeing Harry and Voldemort-Harry alternately.

“How…?” Hermione breathed. “What…?”

Voldemort arose from his seat and tried to look equally puzzled to see another Harry stand before him.

Colin was beside himself in happiness. Two Harry’s at once? Oh, it was just too good to be true!

He passed out.

“Get away from him!” Harry yelled, pointing at Voldemort. “He’s not the real Harry. I am! That’s Voldemort in disguise!”

“What?” Voldemort let out in fake shock. “No! Don’t believe what he says. I’m Harry!”

“No!” Harry bellowed. “It’s Voldemort! He stunned me and Ron back in Hogsmeade and took some of my hair for his Polyjuice Potion and then he turned into me!”

“That’s ludicrous!” Voldemort retaliated. “If anyone’s drunk Polyjuice Potion, it’s you! I don’t know who that is, but he’s not Harry!”

“Yes, I am!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“NO!”

“STOP!” Hermione bellowed. “There’s only one way to find out. We’ll have to wait until the Polyjuice Potion wears off.”

Harry was fuming, but he managed to spit, “Fine,” before sitting down in an armchair, his arms crossed defiantly.

Ron and Hermione sat down as well, but Voldemort remained standing, looking slightly restless. “I…” he muttered. “I… I’m really thirsty, why don’t I just go--”

“AHA!” Harry exclaimed, jumping off his chair. “See?! He’s trying to get away so he can drink some more Polyjuice Potion!”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed at Voldemort-Harry and said firmly, “Sit down.”

Voldemort gingerly sat down, biting his lip.

They waited and waited. And then, some forty-five minutes later, Voldemort-Harry began to change. His skin bubbled, his hair slowly grew in and vanished, he became taller, his eyes turned from green to red…

It was Lord Voldemort in disguise.

Who would have known?

“Argh!” Hermione screamed, getting off her chair and running frantically about the common room. “The end is nigh! Can’t you feel it?!”

Harry, Ron and Voldemort watched her, dumbfounded, as she raced around the room, her hands flailing above her head. She stopped, however, when she seemed to believe that her flight of fright had lasted long enough.

“Okay,” she said, cracking her fingers in front of her, “I’m ready to be reasonable now.”

Harry, Ron and Voldemort were still watching her, as though worrying about her mental health.

“Okay… well, I’ll just go, then, shall I?” Voldemort said into the stunned silence and headed awkwardly towards the portrait hole.

“Yeah, okay, bye…” Harry replied casually. “Hey! Stop!” he yelled after Voldemort when he realised he shouldn’t just let the enemy go. He fumbled around for his wand, but then remembered that Voldemort still had it.

“Looking for this?” Voldemort asked, brandishing the wand in front of him.

“Ooh, you truly are the most vicious man,” Harry fumed, his hands balled into fists.

“Well, yes, no one else wanted the job…”

“So, what are you going to do now?” Harry asked defiantly. “Kill us all? Your former plan is pretty dead now, so what’re you going to do, huh? Huh? HUH?!”

“Well, I…” Voldemort began uncertainly. “I’m going to… I thought I’d just… Well, I’m not going to tell you, of course!” he finished unconvincingly.

“Mr Voldermort,” Hermione interjected quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

“But of course, dear,” Voldemort replied with a smile, then felt utterly revolted by himself and spat at Harry, “You’re wearing off on me, you loon!”

“Nutcase!”

“Pighead!”

“Regurgitated Blast-Ended Skrewt!”

“Girl!”

Harry did a double take and stumbled backwards, looking incredulously at Voldemort, astounded by his ferocious use of words. “What did you just call me?” he asked in a threatening whisper.

“Oh, stop it, both of you!” Ron interrupted impatiently. “You’re acting like adults!”

Harry and Voldemort, though, kept eyeing each other menacingly.

“Let’s just be rational for a moment and concentrate on the situation at hand,” Ron continued cleverly.

“Ron, when did you become so sensible?” Hermione asked bewildered at his calm demeanour.

“Well, someone’s got to be the designated thinker,” Ron replied impatiently. “Just because every fanfiction makes me out to be the dumbest of our group, doesn’t mean I can’t be logical at times.”

“Right, well… pray, continue,” Hermione replied apologetically.

“Okay, let’s concentrate on the situation at hand,” Ron repeated. “We have Mr Moral Fibre here, who’s just been emancipated and is clearly furious that he was incarcerated in the first place, who wants to see the dark leave Mr Supposedly Menacing’s eyes. He, however, is inclined to kill us all and henceforth turn the world into shadow forevermore…”

“And your conclusion?” Hermione prompted.

“Do I really have to conclude anything?” Ron whined.

“Well, yes, you can’t just sum up the story. Being the designated thinker means you have to come up with an idea to get out of certain situations!”

“Oh…” Ron uttered. “Well, can I resign, then?”

“Ugh! Your three are so behaving like kids!” Voldemort exclaimed. “Luckily I usually don’t have such childish creatures surrounding me. I’m so looking forward to returning to my bachelor pad with my nonentities, who behave as they ought to “ like adults.”

Suddenly, three Death Eaters burst in through the portrait hole, all panting from the long journey to Gryffindor Tower, which they, apparently, had taken at a run. “My Lord, Bucklenott won’t let me play Twister anymore!” Lucius Malfoy howled.

“And you were saying?” Hermione asked Voldemort with one eyebrow raised.

The three Death Eaters “ Lucius Malfoy, Henslow/Onslow Bucklenott and Bellatrix Lestrange “ stopped in mid-pant and took in their surroundings, noticing Harry, Ron and Hermione for the first time. Their eyes turned to Voldemort, and Lestrange exclaimed, “My Lord, you’re back into your own eye-shattering form!”

“Indeed,” Voldemort sneered. “The Potter boy escaped and has returned to Hogwarts, as you can see. How, may I ask, did he slip past our nets?”

“We don’t have nets guarding the Riddle House, sir, only spells and enchantments…” Bucklenott replied.

Voldemort took in a large breath, steadying his nerves, and then rephrased calmly, “How did he escape?”

“We don’t know exactly, my Lord,” Lucius responded. “We were having an urgent, urgent meeting in the Room of Evil and Mercilessness and--”

“You mean the drawing room?” Harry interjected, smirking.

“--and somehow,” Lucius continued, stubbornly ignoring Harry, “he got out of the cage and fled.”

“Well…” Voldemort began, subduing his rage, “there’s nothing to do about that now. Let’s concentrate on the situation at hand.”

Ron growled. Hermione shrieked. Harry cleaned his nails.

Lucius, Bucklenott and Lestrange all took out their respective wands and pointed them at the trio.

“Let’s go,” Voldemort said suddenly to the three Death Eaters, making everyone blink several times.

“Excuse me?” Lestrange asked, bewildered. “You mean not to harm them?”

“No…”

“Kill them?”

“No…”

“Destroy them? Harass them? Rip their fingernails off? Gouge out their eyes? Dress them in pink leather and laugh at them? Nothing?!”

“No…”

“But why?!” Lestrange exclaimed.

“Because…” Voldemort said slowly. “Because… Oh, I can’t say it.”

“But you must!” Lestrange prompted desperately.

“All right,” Voldemort replied, determined. “It’s because…”

Silence.

“To be continued…” Ron put in dramatically.

Six heads whipped around to stare incredulously at him.

“Sorry, wrong crowd,” he mumbled, his hands up in front of him in a protective way.

Voldemort cleared his throat. “It’s because… It’s because I don’t want to see them dead anymore.”

“What kind of a sick joke is this?!” Lestrange shrieked.

“I just…” Voldemort croaked. “I just…”

“What?” Lestrange prompted impatiently. “You just what?!”

“All right!” Voldemort bellowed. “I began to like life as Harry. I liked being carefree and young. I… liked his friends…”

“Even the Mudblood?!” Lestrange asked, astounded.

Voldemort looked nervously at the ground, one foot drawing an uncertain line in the floor. “Her especially,” he muttered.

“Ew!” Ron exclaimed.

Hermione looked horror-stricken and duck behind Ron, shielding herself from Voldemort.

“That’s it!” Harry cried out. “You’re all so surprised you’re forgetting the most important thing here!” He breathed heavily for a bit, and then turned to Voldemort. “Can I get my glasses back?” he asked, taking off the turquoise ones. Reluctantly, Voldemort handed him Harry’s own glasses back.

“So… what are we supposed to do now?” Lestrange asked Voldemort frantically, apparently completely lost.

“We’ll… we’ll leave them alone,” Voldemort replied tiredly, “to experience life as they deserve. And we will go back to our miserable lives… to dwell in darkness… for all eternity… till death closes in around us…”

“My, you’re dark-spirited,” Hermione put in, from behind Ron’s back.

Voldemort turned around for the portrait hole and the three Death Eaters followed solemnly. Harry just heard Lucius point out, “Then we’ll have plenty of time for Twister,” before the portrait closed slowly behind them.

The common room was completely silent. Neither Harry, Ron nor Hermione dared say anything. The whole thing was just too bizarre.

“Merlin,” Ron breathed into the shocked silence, “what a momentous change…”

THE END

“Told you the end was nigh!” Hermione put in triumphantly.
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