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.