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.