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Chapter Text

"Why are you calling Pettigrew by his nickname?" Harry asked the Dark Lord. He had enough information by now to realise that the man who tried to kill him very year was making another attempt – and right on time! "I mean, I know who he is. It's really obvious. So why are you acting like you have to conceal his identity? He's not even wearing a mask!"

"I-" Wormtail began to speak, but Harry didn't let him finish.

"-Are you calling him by his old school nickname for fun? Just call him by his name! Do all of your death eaters have code names or something?"

"Lucius, why did you not attempt to seek out your master? The Lestranges-"

"And why are you naming your death eaters? Aren't their identities supposed to be top secret? Isn't there some kind of 'each death eater only knows one other death eater' thing? I mean, that's why they weren't all rounded up after the first war, isn't it? Now, if one person squeals – and I doubt these cowardly little worms' ability to keep a secret, if it means they can save their own necks – then you'll have literally no followers. Also, let's face statistics; it's highly likely that I'm going to get out of here, and now I know the identity of each and every one your death eaters!"

"But that's the point Potter- you won't escape this time!"

"Yeah, I will." Harry said disparaging.

"No you wo-"

"Actually, now I think about it – why wasn't I here sooner?" Harry gestured to his surroundings.

"What do you mean, Potter? This was the soonest I could get you here and still enact my GENIUS evil plan for my resurec-"

"Yeeeahhhh…" Harry rolled his eyes and tilted his head to one side. "But it wasn't."

"Explain." Voldemort demanded, looking rather put-out.

"Well, in order to bewitch the Triwizard cup, you had to have a secret agent in a figure of authority, probably Moody if you look at my track record for DADA teachers. Meaning there was no need for this elaborate plot, or the millions of holes in your apparent plan to bring me here, where it could have all gone pear-shaped."

"What holes?" Voldemort shrieked. "My plan was fool-proof!"

"Your whole plan depended on a fourteen year old boy being able to get past challenges that caused even legal adults to struggle! Even if I do 'supposedly' have a lot of power for my age, that's not a very secure plot! Couldn't your agent just have knocked me out at any point and brought me to you? Just a simply stupefy and a short walk to outside the wards and – bam! – you've got me!"

"I-"

"You didn't even need to have an inside man! All Wormtail needed to do was use his animagus form to sneak inside the school and kidnap me! This could all have been over on the first night of school."

The pale face of Lord Voldemort was turning red.

"And that's not even the first place where your plan's a little shaky. I mean, this whole charade depends a lot upon the phrase 'unwillingly given'. If I had just said, 'Here, have some blood!' you would've been so screwed. Also-"

"Potter! Just go!"

"Wha-"

"Take the portkey and just leave!"

"But-"

"Please!" Voldemort had his eyes closed and Harry could have sworn he was about to cry. The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Frustrate-The-Dark-Lord shrugged helplessly and walked over to the abandoned cup. Harry glanced over to check if the Dark Lord had changed his mind, but Voldemort just shook his head and gestured for him to leave. Harry Potter picked up the cup and, when he felt the familiar jerking on his naval, he waving at Voldemort and called out, "See you next June! I mean you're so predictable-"

Voldemort's scream of frustration was the last thing Harry heard before he arrived at the beginning of the maze.

"Why have I appeared here?"

Chapter Text

" Avada Kedavra!"

Well Harry wasn't going to let that happen. Instantly focusing on Cedric (because he was obviously the spare, he was a Hufflepuff for goodness sake!), he banished the Triwizard cup towards the startled boy. Diggory grasped the handles of the portkey instinctively and, with a grunt, he was whisked away. The flash of green light impacted on the gravestone just a few metres away from where Harry stood. With a muffled boom! the Unforgiveable shattered the weathered rock, allowing a light covering of dust to settle on the floor, like slightly macabre snow.

Harry spun towards his attacker, and instincts that had been carefully honed by three years of danger and a previous 10 years of abuse, kicked in. With a flick of his wand, a burst of red light hit the figure, causing the man to drop the bundle with a sickening crunch. Harry winced as he realised that sound was awfully similar to that of bones breaking, something Harry was familiar with after his life with the Dursleys. Nevertheless, Harry didn't hesitate, and swiftly stunned the shadowed figure.

Harry crept over to the unconscious guy, nudging him with his foot. When the man - Wormtail, Harry realised – didn't react, Harry grew more confident and aimed a hard kick at Pettigrew's head. Remembering himself, Harry picked up the thing. He peered cautiously into the swathes of cloth. Spotting the veined, bulbous head of the creature, he flinched in shock and dropped the alien-baby. With an awful crunch, the baby's head impacted on the concrete base of a headstone and cracked like an egg. Harry crouched down, having to force down the bile that swelled to the back of his throat when he caught sight of the yellow-whitish stuff that was pooling on the ground. With trembling knees, the Boy-Who-Lived stood up and looked around.

"Well that was easy."

Chapter Text

"Kill the spare!"

The man shrieked and dropped the bundle of rags, as a flash of green light erupted from his wand, rushed past Harry and hit Cedric. The shrieking male flinched and examined his wand as if he'd never seen it before. His eyes were wide with awe as he inspected his weapon. Harry wasn't sure if he should ask if he was quite alright.

"Fool!" came the shriek. "You dunderhead! You insolent wretch! You should never have been born!"

Harry wondered if Professor Snape had a child.

Lost in his imaginings of a baby with a hooked nose and limp, greasy fluff on its sallow baby head, Harry barely noticed the man drag him towards a marble headstone, slam him against it and conjure tight rope to bind him. When he was finally snapped out of his imaginings by a slightly pathetic slap, he looked straight into the eyes of the betrayer of his parents…

And blinked.

"Oh, hullo." He said, in a vaguely surprised voice. "You again?"

Wormtail didn't reply, which Harry thought was awfully rude, but instead checked the tightness of the cords. Harry looked down and blinked once more. "Ah." He remarked. Wormtail gave him a smirk, clearly trying to be intimidating, which Harry found rather sad.

"That's not your look." Harry informed him, giving the unfortunate man a pitying look. "I'd go for a glazed-over stare, or a grovelling pout."

Wormtail was looked very bewildered.

"There- that's better!" Harry grinned cheerfully, quite proud of himself for this good deed.

"Enough idle chatter! Wormtail – prepare the ritual!" The high-pitched voice rang through the graveyard as clear as a bell.

"A ritual? For the nargles? Your friend's head is full of them." Harry nodded towards the bundle on the floor nearby. At first he listened with fascination to Wormtail' chant. However he was soon bored by the high drone of Peter Pettigrew, and it became a mere buzz in the background of his mind as he tried to figure out exactly how many wizards it would take to levitate Hagrid over a fully grown dragon.

Harry was only brought back to reality when Wormtail used his knife – "I could get an infection from that, you know." – to cut a thin line down the Insane Saviour's arm. Harry watched with detached curiosity as the blood dripped from his wound into the glass phial. "What's that for?" he asked dreamily, as he felt his head grow rather light with every drop of blood lost. Even when Wormtail was done collecting his blood, the red liquid continued to drizzle onto the ground, causing black spots to pop in Harry's vision.

"I think I may pass out." Harry murmured.

"Wormtail! Stem the brat's bleeding, I don't want him dead yet, you imbecile!" came the muffled cry from within the cauldron.

"Are you sure you aren't related to Professor Snape?" Harry asked concernedly, "That may explain the nargles."

Wormtail ignored him and stumbled to the cauldron, dropping the phial into the simmering liquid. It turned instantly a pure, blinding white. From inside the boiling cauldron, stepped a thin man, with skin the colour of a skull and wide, red eyes. He was tall, with a nose as flat and as slit as a snake's. He eluded an atmosphere, one that made Harry's skin crawl and the hairs on the back of his head stand on end, and he was fingering a long, knobbly wand with a sadistic grin.

"Oh my, what have the nargles done to you?"

Chapter Text

"Oh no." Harry wrinkled his nose and shook his head violently. "That robe is not good on your figure; you need something a little more… fitting."

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Voldemort flourished his wand dramatically, and Harry was very jealous of his flexibility.

"How do you do that with your wrist? It's fabulous, darling!"

"I'm going to kill you, Potter!" The snake-faced man insisted.

"That is so the last three years, sweetie. Try something new!"

"Bu-"

"You know what? I think you'd suit a light grey, maybe a little red thrown in there to accentuate your eyes." Harry tried to reach Voldemort to show him his colour chart, but then he realised that he was tied to the headstone. Harry looked down at the bonds with a sideways smirk towards the Dark Lord. "If I knew you were into this stuff…"

Voldemort nearly retched and vanished the ropes. "I hoped this was just a phase." He gestured to Harry's gelled-back hair and stylish pink scarf. "It's so demeaning to have a…" Voldemort looked physically disgusted, "'You know' for an enemy."

"That is so prejudiced. We - the gay rights community – are getting more rights now, you know. It's legal in Sweden now for men marry. There's even talk in America of ending the so-called 'treatment' for homosexuality."

"What rubbish." Voldemort spat. "They should all be burned. Filthy mongrels, the lot of them."

"Says the wizard." Harry sassed, snapping his fingers in a 'z' formation. "Go and consult your bible on that. Now, Petti, darling, your hair is something else. I'm not even sure if it's a good something or a bad something, but a little conditioner and I'm certain it will be fabulous."

"Don't infect my followers with your freakishness, Potter."

"Don't infect my beautiful face with your snakeishness." Harry crossed his arms huffily. "Now, if we're done here?" Harry turned on his heels and marched away, throwing his scarf dramatically over his shoulder.

"You won't be able to get past the anti-apparition wards!" Voldemort cried out.

"That's what you think. Never underestimate the gay." Harry winked mysteriously, and curled his fingers in a cheeky wave. "Bye snake boy!"

And then he disappeared with a flamboyant demi-plié and a spin.

Chapter Text

"P-potter." Voldemort stuttered. "I didn't expect you to be so…"

"Utterly gorgeous? I know. I have thick, wavy black/red hair, piercing green eyes and cheekbones to die for. My face is the picture of nobility and my body is out of this world. My perky boobs defy gravity, and my flawless complexion certainly doesn't follow the laws of female teenage hormones. I am perfect, smart and powerful, and completely contradict the years of abuse that I suffered at the hands of my relatives." Harriet pouted dramatically at the bamboozled Dark Lord, flipped her hair over her shoulder in a slow-motion sweep that any L'Oréal model would be envious of, and smirked at him.

"But I was going to kill you-"

Harry pressed a long, elegant finger to his lips. "Shh, don't talk. I'm going to fall in love with you, even though you murdered my parents, causing me 10 years of abuse and pain. The 50 year age difference between us is insignificant, even considering the fact that you're triple my age and I'm under the legal age of consent. None of it matters, because you're going to perform another ritual that gives you your pretty face back, and no one will give a damn or remember you from a mere 50 years ago, not even the 40-odd students who went to school with you for seven years. Don't even bother changing your name or go to a minimal amount of effort to conceal your identity. Let's get together after three minutes, have sexy times and one of us will change the views that they've held for their entire life and become the Dark Lady/Minister of Magic, just because you or I pouted at either me or you with their 'smouldering red eyes'/'glowing emerald orbs'."

"But why would I-"

"You'll completely forget that you're physically unable to love because of your conception whilst your father was drugged by Love Potions, and fall head over heels in love with me. You'll completely alter your personality, wiping out the cold psychopath part and replacing it with a romantic and dedicated politician who just wants to make the world a better place. Your followers will be completely fine with it, except for Bellatrix who's a jealous cow. In fact, the Malfoys have been cautious of your behaviour ever since you 'turned evil' and now whole-heartedly support your new cause, forgetting the whole 'giving a deadly diary to a school girl thing'. Sirius will support my union with the Dark Lord, even though you're the embodiment of everything he's hated since he was a child, and we'll end our tale with a battle between one of us and Dumbledore, and a declaration of love."

"Wha'?" Lord Voldemort was completely bewildered by this apparent out-of-character behaviour of his. Nevertheless, Harriet grabbed his arm and spun on her heel, dragging him along with her.

"Now come on! I have a fortune/Ladyship to claim and Potter manor to refurbish!"

And then she broke through the anti-apparition wards, because that's just the BAMF female she is.

Chapter Text

" Ah! The Boy-Who-Lived! Harry Potter, we meet at last."

"What?"

" You, Harry Potter, are the Boy-Who-Lived. Those foolish beings thought it was your pathetic brother, but we knew better, didn't we?"

"…What?"

" You mean… you didn't know?"

"No. It's never really come up in conversation before."

" Oh. Well, this is awkward."

"Sorry."

" No, don't worry. It's not your fault. You just can't get the people these days."

"I imagine Deatheaters aren't the best spies. They haven't a bone of subtlety in their bodies."

" I know! And they call themselves Slytherins. It's disgraceful, really. The quality of cunning has really declined since my day."

"Mmm."

" I see you're a Slytherin… got your… tie there. Nice, and green."

"Yeah. My parents were pissed though."

" I imagine they were."

"…"

" You really didn't know? About being the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"Not a clue."

" Huh. And all the time I thought it was just an elaborate ploy…"

"No. It was a complete surprise. Honestly."

" It really sucks to have an unprepared enemy. Takes all the fun out of it."

"I really am sorry about that."

" Are you sure you don't have any lingering burning hatred towards me? Has our meeting sparked any flames of rage?"

"Not really. You just seem kinda sad."

"… Too bad."

"Look, I feel really bad. Are you sure it isn't my twin? It was probably quite dark, there could have been a mix-up, it's happened before."

" It was definitely you, glowing green eyes, silky black hair… I mean, your mother was right there!"

"They've pretty much ignored me. It kinda blows, to be frank."

" They sound like dicks."

"Yeah, they are."

" So… if you aren't going to fight me…?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm just not looking for a mortal enemy."

" Shame. Do you want to, I don't know, maybe… join my side?"

"I wouldn't have to be a deatheater, would I? Because that's kinda a deal breaker."

" No. You can have a special mask and everything."

"Cool… Do you think they'll be surprised?"

" I don't think so. If what you say is true, they've had it coming for a while now. It was inevitable, really."

"So you don't think they'll feel betrayed? Not that I really care…"

" I'm sure it'll be fine. Come on then."

"Where are we going?"

" I have a mansion."

"Oh, okay."

" Master…"

" Shove off Wormtail."

Chapter Text

Harry Potter heard the words, "Kill the spare!" and like any sane human being, he stumbled back. Good fortune was something that Harry Potter had in abundance, so much so that he had been nicknamed 'Lucky' by half the school. (Yes, it was cheesy, but so were Dumbledore's robes, and nobody made a comment about those… out loud). Therefore, it came as no surprise that there was a loose rock right by his foot, which he stumbled over at just the right moment to push Cedric Diggory out of the way and fall on top of the Triwizard Cup, which whisked him away from the scene, leaving two every shocked people (and a misshapen baby).

"Continue the ritual, Wormtail." Lord Voldemort demanded. Cedric Diggory blinked, and glanced around. What was going on? Was this the last trial? Had that been the Killing Curse?

"Bu m-master… Potter…"

"Use the boy!" Voldemort hissed, whitish pupils focusing on the bewildered Hufflepuff. If Cedric had been Harry Potter, he would have noticed the rather coincidental parellels between this scene and the one three years earlier, but he was not, and so he had no idea what the hell was going on. Was this a joke? Was he meant to be finding something? And did the fact that Harry was gone, mean that Potter had won? It wasn't fair! Gryffindor always won everything. Stupid lions and their stupid bravery…

Wormtail used the petulant Diggory's sulking against him, and dragged the boy toward a gravestone, shoving him against the slab half-heartedly. Grasping his wand with sweaty fingers, he tried to hide his rather embarrassing whispered incantation from the Hufflepuff. He never had mastered silent casting, no matter how much Lily had tried to tutor him in the subject. Weak ropes appeared, and Wormtail prayed to Merlin that they would hold.

He dropped the small form of his master into the cauldron, and pointed his wand at the ground beneath the Hufflepuff's feet.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given. You will renew your son!" Pettigrew summoned the bone and his eyes widened with anticipation…

Nothing happened.

"M-master, it's not there!"

"You know, some graves were robbed for medical research." Cedric piped up helpfully. "Ha! I bet Potter didn't know that."

"Continue Wormtail! I'm sure it's not that important." Voldemort hissed.

"Flesh — of the servant — w-willingly given — you will revive — your master." Wormtail sliced off his hand with a wince and squealed as it plopped into the simmering cauldron.

"B-blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect your foe." The rodent of a man held a knife out in front of him with shaking hands as he approached the bound Hogwart's champion.

"If all it takes is blood to get out of here: have it!" Cedric insisted, offering his forearm to the rat animagus. A relieved smile broke across Wormtail's face and he made an incision much more confidently. As he collected the blood in the phial, Wormtail began to whistle cheerfully. Finally something was going right. He bustled over to the cauldron and tipped the red liquid in.

Drip… drip… drip…

BOOM!

The cauldron exploded in a fiery ball of flames, taking Peter Pettigrew out with it. The ropes holding Diggory evaporated and he crept cautiously towards the smoking pot. He peered over the rim and took in the scene before him: the bottom of the cauldron had burnt through and patches of blackened ground could be glimpsed through the hole.

"Someone should really write a legislation about that."

Chapter Text

"Harry Potter, my greatest enemy… here to witness my victory." Voldemort gestured towards Harry and smiled at his Deatheaters, his teeth yellowed and eyes glowing red. Harry straightened up and quirked a dark smirk at him. "Oh, I think not." He replied, his voice as low and velvety as Tom Riddle's had been at 16.

"Potter… are you… possessed?" Voldemort asked hesitantly, his evil grin slipping a little.

"No, it's just such a relief to get rid of that mundane mask." He sighed, his suddenly-gothic hair falling into his eyes. He flicked it out of his eyes and the ropes binding him to the stone evaporated into dark shadows.

"But that's impossible!" Voldemort declared dramatically. "I had my most loyal servant craft those ropes!"

"Loyalty doesn't always equal magical power!" Harry reminded him mockingly. "Anyway, I bet my servant's more loyal than yours."

"Who?" The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Draco Malfoy." Harry replied smugly.

"Damn it!" Voldemort stomped his foot and growled. "I thought I had the whole set!"

"Nope. And he's in love with me." Harry crossed his arms and nodded triumphantly.

Voldemort scanned the area desperately, before focusing on an uncomfortably shifting Deatheater. "Lucius."

"Y-yes, my lord?"

"Kiss me."

"W-what, my lord!?" The normally oily drawl of Lucius Malfoy came out as more of a panicked squeak.

"Kiss me! If your son can kiss a blood traitor and my worst enemy, you can certainly give your lord and master a peck on the lips!" Voldemort demanded impatiently. "Or do you want to be crucioed?"

Harry snorted. "Classy."

"At least I don't have to imperius him!" The Dark lord sneered.

"Oh no. No imperiusing here! Just beauty, manipulation and a whole lot of elbow grease." Harry shrugged and inspected his nails.

Lucius Malfoy removed his mask with shaking hands, and straightened his robes. The usual Malfoy grace was absent as he stumbled his way over to his master, mumbling things like, "Stupid son - going to kill him!" Quickly, Lucius darted up and placed a butterfly kiss on Voldemort's dry lips, gulping at the furious glare he received.

"I got the better Malfoy!" Harry sang insultingly. Bristling at the implied slander, Malfoy grasped Voldemort by the neck of his robes and snogged the life out of him. Then he squeaked and hurried back to his place, fixing the mask on hurriedly.

"Well, I wouldn't boast about that." Harry murmured derisively, his casual elegance irritating the Dark lord more than he could say.

"I have the Malfoy fortune." Voldemort sniffed.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Lord Malfoy dropped dead.

"Now you don't." Harry stuck out his tongue.

"I fooled the whole of Hogwarts!"

"I fooled Albus Dumbledore!"

"I discovered the Chamber of Secrets!"

"I located the Philosopher's Stone!"

"I grew up in an Orphanage!"

"I grew up with my abusive muggle family!"

"I'm a charming sociopath!"

"I'm a charming psychopath!"

"I hate muggles!"

"I hate everyone!"

The two of them broke off, panting heavily. With blazing eyes, they scowled and said in unison; "There's only one way to solve this."

They both reached for their wands.

Chapter Text

Harry stumbled as he landed in the graveyard, still crowing to the absent Cedric Diggory. "Ha! Take that you stupid Hufflepuff! I got here before yo-" He paused and looked around, his surroundings finally registering. "Well this is cool."

Harry spotted a man clutching a bundle approach him, looming menacingly out of the fog.

"Hello?" He called out. "Look, that creepy fog thing you've got going on is really awesome, believe me, and I'd totally like to swap notes some time, but could you tell me where I am?"

"Your doom!" Came the squealed reply from the rags.

Harry laughed, because that high-pitched voice was really funny. "Did someone kick you in the balls? Was it me? Do you even have balls, or are you just fabric?"

The cloth creature and the man ignored Harry, and continued his advance. "Wormtail, prepare the-"

"Wormtail?" Harry interrupted incredulously. "The Womtail? Member of the Marauders; most awesome pranking group of all time?"

"Well, yes-" The man began to speak, but was cut off by Harry falling to his knees in reverent worship. "Oh Merlin! I built a shrine to you guys in my second year! Well, mostly you. I mean, the others sound kinda stuck-up to be honest; 'Prongs', 'Padfoot', 'Moony' but Wormtail? Just the right amount of sneakiness needed for a pranking master!"

By now, Wormtail was beginning to preen. "It's true. No one appreciates the amount of slyness needed to pull off the perfect pranks. A rat is supreme at finding ways into Slytherin dungeons."

"I love you." Harry declared, stars in his eyes. "Would you like a custard cream? It's my last one, but to have the Wormtail eat it… it would be an honour." There were actual tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

"Don't mind if I d-" Wormtail squeaked as he began to sprout feathers, his face narrowed and his arms transformed into wings. Harry smirked and ran his hand through his fringe. "Rats suck." He told the squawking bird smugly. Then he got out a mirror and spoke into the surface, pausing only for a moment to check his reflection. "Sirius Black. Hey, Siri. Yeah, I got kidnapped by Pettigrew."

"How is he?" Sirius asked eagerly through the frame.

"A canary." Harry said nonchalantly.

" That's my cub!"

"Yeah, the only thing is, now there's this weird baby thing crawling across the floor towards me. It reminds me a bit of the scene from that horror movie you let me watch-"

"Mr Potter!"

"Oh, is Minnie there? I meant that horror movie you didn't let me watch."

" In all my years… most irresponsible…!"

"Busted." Harry and Sirius sighed.

Chapter Text

"It's those bloody wizards again, Marv! I swear, one day I'll-" Harry stopped his shouting as he landed in a murky graveyard filled with mist. He sighed and took a GPS out of his camouflage backpack. He tapped it impatiently. It beeped and he squinted, trying to read in the terrible lighting. "Little Hangleton…" He looked around dubiously. "What a dump."

"Harry Potter, the filthy squib." A figure stumbled out of the thick fog, a crow squawking in the distance.

"Very Hitchcock…" Harry commented, inconspicuously checking the gun on his belt. Taking him by surprise, the figure advanced and slammed Harry into the stone behind him, causing Harry to cry out as his head slammed into the rock. His vision began to spin, and Harry suspected he had concussion. He punched his attacker in the face, causing the figure to reel back clutching their nose. Harry tried to right himself, but his head swam and his stomach churned. Harry groaned, massaging his temple as he leaned forwards and gagged. His attacker righted himself again, and Harry felt thick ropes wrap around his torso.

While the man was preoccupied with mumbling mumbo jumbo, Harry slipped his hand into his trouser pocket, drawing out a knife. He sawed through the ropes, noticing that they weren't quite as thick as normal bindings. Probably something to do with magic. "Bloody magic." Harry mumbled.

Harry finally got loose, and whilst the insane man was dropping his hand into the cauldron – his hand! – Harry took out his gun. Cocking and priming it – "Bloody insane, the lot of them" – he fired. His aim was true and the shot went straight through the back of the attacker's head, who immediately fell to the floor. He approached cautiously, kicking the corpse on the floor onto its back. Then he went over to the cauldron and fired a couple of rounds in, just to make sure.

He stomped out of the gates, muttering, "Bloody wizards, can't fight their own wars. 'Go to your relatives, Harry, they'll be more understanding of your 'condition'.' Why is it a condition? I'm a Squib! You can say the bloody word. I'm not even sure how I ended up in the Army, with a gun no less. I'm 14 bloody years old. The whole world's gone mad…

"…Now where's the bloody bus!?"

Chapter Text

"What do you think of my new face, Potter?" Voldemort preened, straightening his robes and running a finger along his wand threateningly.

"Um… I can't see." Harry shrugged helplessly.

"WHAT!" Voldemort looked panicked.

"I am blind, you know." Harry reminded him.

"But… But… how will you make fun of my appearance?" Voldemort exclaimed.

"Why would I want to do that?" Harry asked with a frown. "It sounds kinda mean."

"That's the whole point – a few underhanded comments about your enemy's looks make duels all the more interesting. A few 'snake-faces'…" Voldemort trailed off and groaned at Harry's blank face. "It's for the whole 'fighting your mortal enemy' thing."

"Shouldn't I be insulting your personality or morals or something?" Harry wondered. Voldemort sighed and with a wave of his wand, the ropes disintegrated. Harry bent down and picked up his wand.

"See! Right there! No fumbling around – you just picked that thing straight up! How do you do that if you're blind?" Voldemort gestured wildly. Harry furrowed his brow and shrugged, "Just a 'magical sensing' thing, I guess."

"Well then you're not blind!" Voldemort shouted exasperatedly. He rubbed his temples and looked at Harry. "Just so we're clear, you won't be making any remarks about my lack of a nose?"

Harry shook his head.

"Right, I'll be holding auditions for a new enemy on Tuesday. Don't show up." Voldemort told him pointedly, writing it down on a conjured piece of parchment. Harry looked taken-back. "Hang on, you 'snaky person', you."

"Rubbish." Voldemort told him frankly. "Now go away."

Chapter Text

Harry Potter landed in the graveyard. With cheerful precision he pushed Cedric Diggory out of the way of the green light heading towards him and skipped over to the cloaked man. "Hey Wormy!" he greeted with a grin. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a phial of blood. He put it in Wormtail's stunned hand and closed the fingers around it. "That's a quarter of a pint of Albus Dumbledore's blood, unwillingly given." Then he pulled the bone white wand out of Wormtail's hand, held it up to his own and said, "Expelliarmus."

A gold glow immediately surrounded the close wands and Harry broke the connection after a few minutes. He handed the wand back to Pettigrew. Then he strolled over to Cedric Diggory, grasped his hand and touched the handle of the Triwizard Cup. "See you in the Ministry!" He called as the pair of them disappeared. "I'm off to see Barty!"

...

"Wormtail, explain to me what just happened."

"I'm not sure, my lord."

Chapter Text

Harry looked around the graveyard with detached interest. "Little Hangleton." He declared, brushing some non-existent lint off his shoulder. Wormtail peeked his head around the gravestone he was hiding behind, in shock. "What? How did you know that?"

"Well, you just confirmed it, you idiot." Harry said scathingly.

"B-but, before that-"

"Yes, I know." Harry rolled his eyes and began pacing. "Behind me, I see a gravestone marked 'Tom Riddle'. Tom, a rather common name-" there was a muffled hiss from a bundle of rags in Wormtail's arms which Harry ignored "-But 'Riddle'? Now we're getting somewhere. The dates are too worn away to see clearly, but for the marble to be as new as it is, this man must have died around 40 to 50 years ago. There have been only six Tom Riddles to die in the last 50 years. This is a large, high status headstone, meaning he must have been at least close to nobility. That narrows it down to only two people.

"The ground is wet, suggested strong rain in the last 6 hours. There's only been weather like that in the north of England recently, meaning that this man must have been the Tom Riddle of Little Hangleton, son of Thomas and Mary Riddle who were rather famously murdered in 1943. It's highly likely that this man was buried just outside his grounds and that theory is confirmed by the vast estate over there which I am certain belonged to the Riddles. That means this is the Little Hangleton graveyard." Harry finished triumphantly.

"Amazing-"

"Yes, Pettigrew, I know."

"How did you-?"

"Know it was you? It's rather simple really; your gait, height, shoe size and voice give it all away. It's a rather distinctive squeak, isn't it? I assume that the thing in your arms is Lord Voldemort, or rather: Tom Riddle?"

"H-"

"Your personality ensures that you need to follow to feel safe. When you were threatened last year, it's clear that you would run to the only figure you felt strong enough to protect you: your former master, the Dark Lord. His name is Tom Riddle, because he earlier showed a reaction of disgust towards the name and how ordinary it was, partly explaining your name change. Also, why else would I have landed here, right in front of this grave? Bringing your arch-nemesis here suggests a close emotional attachment, most likely hatred.

"The area around the grave is well trodden, but the stone is dirty. You're a wizard, if he cared for these people why would he not have you clean the stone? There are also scorch marks, likely from spells. He's attacked it then, he's angry. And given the fact that he's a murderous psychopath, he likely had a hand in their murder. However, when these people were killed, it was just them and no one else in the village. This wasn't just a normal muggle attack then, he had a person vendetta against these people, but why would an evil Dark Lord ever have contact with some average muggles in the north of England? The fact that he changed his name suggests a need to get away from his past, his roots. They were his family then, making him Tom Riddle. The fact that Tom Riddle wasn't in any of the police records shows that he wasn't legitimate. The youngest child was exactly the right age to have a child with some village girl and then deny any connections or drive her away. He was angry, and that is why he killed them! Or at least, had Morfin Gaunt do it."

"Astounding-" Wormtail said in awe.

"It's also an anagram, bit obvious, but I can work with it."

"Incredi-"

"He also... told me. In my second year."

"What?" The high peeled screech made Harry grit his teeth in annoyance. "We had a confrontation. Of course, I deduced that in order for the Basilisk to be defeated, I needed to take away its main weapons - the eyes - with a quick blasting hex and then cast incendio down its throat in order to bypass the impervious skin."

"How did this-"

"Boring! How long have you been living in the Riddle House? Oh, sorry, that was a stupid question. Frank Bryce disappeared in August, and how much longer could you have been staying in the house without the caretaker noticing? A maximum of two weeks, I'll wager, making your stay around 13 months." Harry deduced with a smug grin. "Now, drop the Dark Lord." He told Wormtail.

"What-"

"Do it!" Harry commanded and Wormtail flinched like he'd been burnt. As soon as Voldemort hit the ground, a blast of green light erupted out of Harry's wand, hitting Voldemort square on. Wormtail watched in amazement as the unaffected Potter just watched indifferently and spun around, heading towards the Triwizard Cup.

"The name's Harry Potter." He called over his shoulder. "And the address is number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"But I betrayed your parents-"

"Don't care – boring!" He dismissed and levitated the fallen Portkey. "Do you mind the cello?"

"No."

Wormtail could only watch as Harry grasped hold of the trophy and quirked him a smile, "I'm sure we'll get along marvellously."

Chapter Text

Harry glanced at the dead body lying on the floor next to him with some regret. This death could have been avoided. He made a mental note to avenge the fallen Cedric Diggory if he had the chance and it came at no personal risk. Harry passively let himself be lead to the headstone and bound to it, although he tensed his muscles as much as he could to allow for more slack later on. When the man's face came into the light, revealing himself as Peter Pettigrew, Harry grimly reminded himself to kill the man at the earliest opportunity. He watched with cold interest as Wormtail levitated a white powder, which Harry assumed to be bone, into the cauldron and then sliced off one of his hands. Harry took savage pleasure in his scream of pain. When Wormtail approached Harry, brandishing a knife and foolishly recited the next line of the chant, Harry silently gave him permission to take his blood, making a small movement to offer his forearm. He hoped to Merlin that Wormtail did not notice his ploy. When the rodent-faced man didn't notice Harry's cunning plan, he found it hard to believe anyone could be that stupid. Sending a silent prayer to Odin, Harry took his opening. "It's anticlockwise. You have to stir it anticlockwise."

Wormtail looked at him in confusion.

"That's the other way," Harry said helpfully.

"I know that!" Wormtail blustered; a hilarious sight in his squeaky outrage. "But why would you be helping me?" He asked suspiciously.

"Because I'm a Ravenclaw," Harry rolled his eyes sarcastically, "That's what we do. We go around correcting people that don't want to be corrected and generally just making stuck-up nuisances of ourselves. Just thought I'd continue the tradition."

"Oh, okay," Pettigrew said cheerfully and started moving the ladle in the opposite direction. Harry watched in anticipation as it made its second turn, third turn, forth turn…

Boom!

Harry smirked as the cauldron exploded in a ball of searing flames and Wormtail screeched with pain as he was set on fire.

"It doesn't even need to be stirred, idiot." Harry told the burning man scornfully. "And I'm a Slytherin. There's a reason I'm dressed in green." Harry sighed as Pettigrew fell to the floor, twitching pathetically.

"Well now I'm going to have to get out of these ropes myself." He told an amused Nagini in irritation. He looked mournfully at his wand; lying just a few metres away. "And it looks like I'll be doing it the muggle way."

Chapter Text

"No. Just no. I am so done." Harry Potter shook his head emphatically.

"What do you mean?" Voldemort asked, stopping his dramatic feeling of his body, which was making the whole situation a whole lot more creepy.

"Look, I'll hand in my resignation. I'll go to America. I'll even write a letter to the Daily Prophet! Just leave me alone."

"Why are you giving up now?" Voldemort asked, pouting.

"Have you seen you? You're all… snaky and… red-glowy-eyed," Harry gestured wildly, "And I'm fourteen years old. I could barely defeat you as a leech on the back of some weaklings head, and beating you when you were a phantom diary thing very nearly got me killed. So: no, just no."

"But you'll have the whole Wizarding World on your side." Voldemort said desperately. His arch-nemesis couldn't give up now, just when he was reborn. This was where it all got fun!

"Like hell! Have you seen the press I've been getting! And the wizarding world's just been lapping it up! There's no way the Ministry will want to deal with the outbreak this will cause, and seeing as I've already got a reputation as an insane, adrenaline junkie, attention seeker… sorry, but I'm just so out of here."

"But-"

"Look, I'll stay out of your way. I won't rally any forces against you, I'll just go away quietly, and you'll be free to do your whole 'taking over Britain' thing. We can even exchange letters and be friends! We might even fall in love."

"I have always wanted a friend…" Voldemort considered, and Harry nodded encouragingly. "Ok, fine." The Dark Lord agreed huffily. "But I get to kill Dumbledore."

"Fine by me. Just try and not torture/maim/kill my besties will you? I'm quite fond of them, even though I'm abandoning them to flee to safety."

"Alright then." Voldemort consented reluctantly, but broke out into a smile. "Let's have a hug."

The two of them embraced and Harry made his way over to the cup. Before he picked it up, Voldemort called out, "Oh, and call me Tom Riddle!"

Harry saluted. "Well, I'm off to Gringotts to find one of the numerous Potter properties, grab a passport and jump on a plane. Wish me luck!"

"Good luck!" Voldemort waved.

Chapter Text

As soon as Harry saw Voldemort, he burst into tears. "Wah wah wah! Scary snake face man!"

"What? Stop crying!" Voldemort demanded, but only made Harry cry more. "Want Pwofessor Sevy!"

"Why do you have the mental age of a five year old?" Voldemort asked impatiently.

"My uncwle and aunt hit me so I wan away and met the Pwofessor!" Harry said giggling.

"Why does that mean you have mental deficiencies?" Voldemort spat, and groaned when Harry started heaving more great gulping sobs. "Stop crying. It's not adorable. You're fourteen years old, act like it."

"Now I'll be spanked by Pwofessor 'cause I cwied like a baby!"

"Aww." Wormatil cooed.

"That's not cute. Why is that cute? That's abuse! Since when has abuse been cute?" Voldemort looked around wildly in confusion. Harry was still wailing and the Dark Lord gritted his teeth in frustration. "Do you know what? I'll fight Dumbledore instead. A senile old man is better than a whining man-child any day. Wormtail, take this brat back to Severus and tell him if he ever brings him within thirty feet of me again, I'll crucio him so hard his brain will turn to mush. I don't even care why he took in my mortal enemy and raised him like his own, I just want him out of my vicinity. Permanently."

Wormtail took the dribbling Boy Saviour to the portkey and wrapped his finger around it. Harry appeared in front of the maze, immediately standing up and dusting his robes off. Professor Snape ran down the stands, his robes flying out dramatically behind him and his hair flowing over his shoulders like silk. His nose was not large, but distinguished, and his eyes held so much light and warmth that they might as well have been fireworks.

"My love!" Harry cried, enfolding his lover in a hug. "He fell for it."

"Oh, you're wonderful. And just like Lily, your mother whom I loved with all my heart!" Severus cried, looking deep into the eyes that once belonged to the woman he loved, on the face of the man he hated.

"That's not creepy at all!" Harry sighed, and pulled his boyfriend into a searing kiss.

"Paedophile!" Ron shouted, pointing at the two in disgust. Hermione hit Ron on the back of the head. "Don't be small-minded Ronald. It's not paedophilia if they're both in love!"

"Of course. How silly of me."

Dumbledore gazed fondly at the two of them. "As the Headmaster of this establishment, I really should be discouraging improper conduct between students and teacher. But I don't really care because, ah, love. A magic more powerful than anything we teach here."

"Severus, I'm pregnant!" Harry declared. Severus looked at his tiny love in adoring befuddlement. "But how did you get a uterus?"

"Does it matter?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"I suppose not. We shall name it Septimus." Snape decided, giving Harry yet another spine-tingling kiss. "… You know, if I hadn't said one word twenty years ago, you'd be my son."

"How romantic." Harry breathed.

"We were just meant to be." Severus agreed.

Chapter Text

Harry gazed at Lord Voldemort's snake-like form and sighed glumly. "And you were so hot in the diary." He whined.

"My Lord… my Lord… you promised… you did promise… oh please!" Wormtail begged.

"I could think of one other situation where those sounds would be appropriate. Anyone with me?" Harry asked (not so) innocently, glancing around as if he half-expected some pervert to pop up from behind a gravestone and yell 'I do!'

"Quiet Potter, you're fourteen years old for Merlin's sake."

"Didn't stop Sirius." Wormtail muttered mutinously.

"What was that?" Voldemort said sharply, and Wormtail squeaked, "Nothing master!"

Harry ignored the Dark Lord's self-pitying (kind of inspiring) monologue about how he rose from the ashes of his father's grave and achieved his dreams or something. Harry thought it would make a great musical. He started paying close attention when Death Eaters began apparating in and immediately crawled towards Voldemort, kissing the hem of his black robes.

"This looks like the start of an orgy." Harry commented, looking at the masked faces curiously. "All we need now is music and Rohypnol."

"Shut up Potter." Voldemort snapped. "Welcome loyal Death Eaters…"

Harry tried to peer under the masks on the Dark Lord's followers and guess their identities. There was a busty one and – did that one have a cane? Well, each to their own, he supposed.

When Voldemort began to crucio one of his followers, Harry watched with a slight frown. "Is this your kink or something? Because this guy doesn't look too consensual. There are clubs for this."

"I am glad to be punished by the master!" The trembling servant exclaimed in outrage, glared at Harry through his eyeholes. "It is the greatest honour the Dark Lord can bestow upon his lowly followers."

"Fine, fine. They're your rights."

Whilst that exchange took place, Voldemort had conjured a silver hand for Wormtail, who was now flexing it with an expression of the utmost delight.

"I wonder what that's going to be used for." Harry said, an eyebrow raised knowingly.

"Urghh!" Voldemort turned to one of his followers with a scowl. "This would never have happened in my day. Kids were kids back then. Where has childhood gone?"

"I don't know my Lord."

"Damn right you don't."

Chapter Text

Harry dropped a leaf that he'd plucked from a tree into the cauldron. The liquid immediately turned a vibrant purple and the shrivelled form of Lord Voldemort floated to the top. Harry poked it suspiciously, but relaxed when it simply bobbed below the surface a bit. "Like a rotten egg." Harry remarked, pushing it down again. "Actually that's quite fascinating." He raised an eyebrow and repeated the poke. "Was there some kind of chemical reaction that created sulphur? Have I discovered a new potion reaction? I must study this further."

Harry shrunk his enemy's corpse with a nifty nonverbal spell and levitated him into a conjured container. He looked at the box with a fuddled brow and narrowed his eyes. Then he shrugged and stuck it under his armpit.

"That'll start to smell a bit…" Wormtail crept out from behind a gravestone.

"How do you know?" Harry asked, pointing his wand at him.

"Your parent's dead bodies began to stink after a few hours. I, um, leant over them. Laughing maniacally." Wormtail shrugged sheepishly.

"I thought you confronted Sirius Black then?"

"Apparition. I'm not completely useless."

"It appears I underestimated you." Harry raised an eyebrow. "I am in need of a research assistant. I am willing to provide accommodation and food."

"Accommodation - where exactly? You're fourteen years old."

"I have a trunk. It's rather large." Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Well? How about it? I promise I won't experiment on you… too much."

"It's better than living life as a rat." Wormtail sighed and follow the insane genius. "So, how did you escape the ropes?"

"Acid."

"Ah. Do I get paid?"

"Don't push your luck."

Chapter Text

Harry looked around him. Creepy, smoke-filled graveyard? Check. Chilling, mysterious tingling on the back of his neck? Check. Really bad feeling about this? Check.

"My multiple close shaves with death have taught me that in situations like these, you don't stick around." He told a befuddled Cedric Diggory. "Take my arm." Harry put out his elbow and the Hufflepuff linked his arm with his.

"Dobby!" Harry called. With a crack! the House-elf appeared. Dobby looked up with round, wide eyes. "What can Dobby be doing for the great Mr Harry Potter sir?"

"Um, can you take me back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked him.

"Oh yes Mr Harry Potter sir, Dobby can be doing that!" Dobby told him happily, his ears flopping as he nodded enthusiastically.

"Great." Harry grinned. "On second thoughts, can you take me straight to the kitchen. I'm starving."

"Indeed I cans!" The House-elf confirmed joyfully, and grasped Harry's waist.

"Perfect. Your treacle tart is really-"

Crack!

"Ah ha! Harry Potter, we meet agai-" Voldemort's gloated was cut off as he peered through the gap in the blankets and spotted the empty graveyard. "Where is he?"

"I don't know master-"

"Well of course you don't, you imbecile!" Voldemort shrieked. "Did the portkey even work?"

"Well, the cup is over there." Wormtail pointed at the abandoned Triwizard trophy lying in the grass.

"They can't have used that, so then where is my enemy?" Voldemort hissed.

"Maybe he's hiding – behind a gravestone perhaps, or perchance he's invisible!" Wormtail started wildly swinging his arms around himself, dropping the Dark Lord onto the ground.

"Ouch!" He whined. "Wormtail, you moron, come back!" But his servant was already gone, stumbling across the grounds calling, "Here Potty, Potty!"

"He's my arch nemesis, not a cat." Voldemort pouted.

"Or maybe he is! Maybe that's how he escaped. Hang on, I think I have some cat food somewhere around here," Wormtail started patting his pockets.

"Why do you have- do you know what? I don't even want to know. I get the worst luck. And the worst servants."

"I found it! It's a little off, but I'm sure it'll still-"

"ARGHHH!"

Chapter Text

" Harry Potter, my greatest enemy. We meet at last."

"Um, hi. Look, those Hogwarts people only found me on the streets a few weeks ago, so I'm kinda new to this whole 'magic' thing. Am I supposed to fight you or something?"

" Why would they want a schoolboy who's only been learning magic for a matter of days to fight the greatest Dark Lord of all time?"

"I dunno, I just kinda went with it. I came for the food, really."

"But weren't you being trained somewhere secretly?"

"Why would you think that?"

"There were… rumours, and the Daily Prophet ran a few articles speculating."

"No, I was homeless, man. I was living on the streets."

"Why on earth would the Boy Who Lived be without a place to go?"

"Er, my muggle relative were abusive. I ran away when I was 7 - 8?"

"Wow, that's… rubbish, really."

"Tell me about it."

"Why are you helping the man that sent you to live with them?"

"D'you know what? I'm not really sure."

"Are you… bitter, by any chance?"

"…Little bit."

"Okay, I don't offer this to everyone, but I've got this set up for people who want vengeance on muggles. You get food, lodging, clothes… it's a pretty sweet deal."

"Eh, I would, but for some reason, there's this guy with greasy black hair that I trust. He looks at me with utter loathing, but here's just something about the blatant hatred in his eyes that just appeals to an abused kid."

"What's his name?"

"I can't quite remember… Snap?... Snoop?... Snipe?..."

"Snape?"

"Yeah, that's the one!"

"Why, he's on my side!"

"Really? He never mentioned it."

"He's a spy. It's sort of in his job description to be discrete."

"Oh, cool. That's good, then. This… group of yours, is it a bit like a street gang?"

"I guess."

"Awesome. I was in one of those too, you know."

"That's nice."

"Not really."

"Oh."

Chapter Text

"Ah, Tom. Such a sorry path you have chosen to travel down, but remember; to be pointed in the right direction, one only needs to believe in oneself. Only then can you truly understand the consequences of your actions and begin to make amends." Harry said with a knowing twinkle in his bright green eyes.

"…That literally made no sense. It just sound like a lot of wise-sounding words strung together and designed to make me feel guilty." Voldemort crossed his arms suspiciously.

"I speak only the truth. You can still make things right. You just need to give a little love, and it all comes back to you. You know you're going to be remembered, for the things that you say and do."

"That was surprisingly lyrical, and altogether useless." Voldemort remarked.

"Thank you, my boy."

"I'm 40 years older than you. In what alternate reality am I 'your boy'?"

"If you wished me to stop, you need only have asked." Harry paused. "Oh, Tom. What have you done to yourself?" Harry asked sorrowfully whilst regaling Voldemort's new body.

"What have you done to yourself?" The Dark Lord retorted, eying Harry's toxic green and burgundy robes.

"Do you like them?" Harry asked gleefully, spinning around with his arms raised. "Albus helped me pick them out."

"Well, this explains everything." Voldemort muttered, eyeing Harry wearily. "The old codger's got to you. Brainwashed you, most likely."

"Tom, you shouldn't accuse people like that. Albus has merely enlightened me on the beauty of bold fashion statements and wisdom, as it is now my job to do for you. Lemon sherbet?" Harry offered, producing the paper bag from nowhere. Voldemort gestured for Harry to take them back and pinched the bridge of his nose. Harry shrugged and took a sweet out. He unwrapped it, popped it in his mouth and smacked his lips loudly in appreciation.

"I was hoping for an enemy who wasn't a senile old goat with false delusions of grandeur…" Voldemort sighed, working his jaw in consideration, "But I suppose you'll have to do."

Right at that moment, Harry popped out a foldable pointy hat and pulled it firmly onto his head. That was; a foldable pink and sparkly pointy hat.

"No, I can't do it." Voldemort decided grimly. "Avada Kedavra!"

Chapter Text

"Woah, this needs refurbishment." Harry remarked, ruffling a hand through his hair. "Like seriously. A few clean-ups, nice weather, this place could be okay. Not a nice as my beach house in Hawaii, but still."

"You have a beach house in… Hawaii?" Wormtail asked curiously.

"Yeah, it's not as nice as my place in Florida – now that place is huge. My place in Hawaii only has 11 bedrooms – I know! 11! The girls were so disappointed, but I showed them the Jacuzzi and they were… very happy."

"Girls?" Wormtail asked in disbelief.

"Yep. My dashing good looks and magnetising charm just draws them in."

"Exactly like James." Wormtail muttered.

"Thanks." Harry replied, flashing him a glowing smile.

"I hated the bastard. I betrayed him to the Dark Lord. Always lording his fame and money over the rest of us mere mortals."

"…That pretty much described me in a sentence. I'm actually quite impressed. Ah well then, you can team up with Rite Skeeter and give me a bad review."

"A bad review..."

"In the Daily Prophet? I bought them out recently, but before that they were giving me really bad press. Too bad they came across the Potter lawyers." Harry checked his rolex watch and sighed. "Listen, nothing personal (well, it kind of is, you're a bit of a dick), but I've been forced to, well, call the fangirls. On you. And Voldemort. Sorry."

"What? Fangirls?" Wormtail asked in confusion, glancing around him nervously.

All of a sudden, there was a roar. Then a rumble. Then a scream.

The ground began to shake, and Wormtail stumbled as he tried to steady himself. He blinked into the bright light on the horizon as a huge group of girls streamed over the hill. The wave of bikini models, minor actresses and gold-diggers came in a wave, trampling everything in their destructive path as they screamed "HARRY!"

Harry stood up with a wide grin and open arms, "Here I am, ladies!" He pointing over his shoulder with his thumb towards Pettigrew. "First one to kill this guy gets a visit to my private estate in BRAZIL!"

They seemed to speed into a blur, heading straight for the trembling rodent.

"Well I gotta pop off. I've got a business meeting in 5. See ya!" He waved cheerfully at Wormtail, and then saluted to the approaching females. "I'll forward the tickets in the mail!"

Chapter Text

"Urghhh!" Harriet screeched, kicking the gravestone nearest to her. She winced and hopped on one foot, rubbing it tenderly. "This freaking blows." Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared down at her injured toes sorrowfully. "And now my foot hurts." Her bottom lip trembled and she sat down on the ground heavily. She scrambled to her feet almost immediately. "It's wet." She spat angrily, glaring at the dew-covered grass accusingly. She limped over to a bench and sat down on it, but sprang to her feet yet again. "That's wet too." She hissed, patting her damp behind. "Is there nowhere in this infernal graveyard that isn't bloody wet!?"

A minute passed. Harriet looked down at the wet patch on her jeans in growing horror. "Was that water?" She peered over her shoulder awkwardly, sighing in relief when she noticed that the dampness was most certainly not red. "Oh, thank god."

"Um… hello?" A man timidly called out as he crept out from goodness knows where.

"You." Harriet rounded on him. "Did you bring me here!"

"Well, yes…"

Smack!

"How dare you!" Harriet marched closer, poking her finger into his chest. "I ache and hurt and I was almost about to go home, lie in my nice warm bed with my nice warm hot water bottle, when you come and kidnap me and take me to the godforsaken place filled with damp, and spiders a-a-and-" her eyes filled with tears, and she started bawling. "I j-just w-want to go home! I have cramps and I forgot my Ibuprofen-"

"W-what's 'Ibrofed'?" Wormtail asked cautiously, as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer or not.

"Ibuprofen is a painkiller! A muggle one! For period pains!" Harriet's eyes narrowed. "You 'wizards' are the biggest bunch of sexist pigs I have ever met in my entire life! Did you know, there's not one single convenient potion designed for witches on their monthly? Not one! I have to bring boxes and boxes of painkillers with me every year, because you wizards can't get your heads out of your arses and realise that we women have to deal with things! And they're not taboo! You're all trapped in the freaking dark ages! Professor Snape even confiscated my pills, and when I went to go and ask if there was an equivalent magical potion he just sneered at me and said, 'Don't mention those disgusting things to me, Miss Potter. That sort of thing is for witches to discuss." Her eyes were practically smoking with fury. "But we can't discuss it with witches, oh no, because it's too much trouble for our 'dear' Headmaster to call one sex education class. I've had to learn from books. Books! Do you know how vague those diagrams are?! I waited a whole six months until I could get back to the muggle world and ask my aunt about it! And let me tell you, my aunt is not the person you discuss that sort of thing with. But I did, because I had to, and god help me, she was more helpful than you lot!

"And the Triwizard Tournament! No consideration for the female competitors. What do you think they would have done if I'd started my period and then I had to jump into a lake?! Not bloody much! Because, according to them, this sort of thing doesn't exist! And I've had to fight Blast-Ended Skrewts, Acromantulas and Boggarts - all with blood dripping from between my thighs! Do you know how many dark creatures that attracts!?

"And now I'm in a graveyard with d-dead people and my parents died and you're so insensitive and if you're going to kill me, then just do it already, because the pain's unbearable and I just wanna die!" She collapsed into tears again, drawing deep panting breaths into her struggling lungs.

"Wormtail," Voldemort whined. "I need the blood!"

"BLOOD?!" Harriet shrieked, throwing her hands in the air. "I have plenty of blood. Leaking out of me, in fact! Why don't you just hold me over that cauldron over there-" she gestured wildly "- and shake me?! Hmmm!?"

"Wormtail-" The Dark Lord began considerately.

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Harriet screamed in outrage. "Now you will take me home, call 'Mione and tell her that I need her for Christ's sake and that it's a code red and to bring chocolate." She finished hysterically. "Got it?!"

Wormtail nodded meekly.

Chapter Text

" Hi my name is Enoby Dark'ness Dementia Way and I have long ebony black hair with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears-"

"What the hell are limpid tears?" Harry whispered to Voldemort, staring at this strange girl who had come out of nowhere.

"Something clear or transparent." Voldemort replied with a furrowed brow.

"Can you even have transparent icy blue eyes?" Harry questioned.

"I don't think so."

The two of them looked at her eyes with vague interest.

"They're the colour of mud." Harry murmured.

"It makes me feel rather sick." Voldemort heaved.

" I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow."

"Who is she talking too?" Harry edged closer to the Dark Lord.

"It's either herself, or us." Voldemort replied slowly.

"Why does she need to tell us what she's wearing. Or herself? And in such… painful detail?" the Boy Who Lived closed his eyes and winced as she listed every teen clothes shop in existence.

"Maybe she's forgotten?" Voldemort suggested helplessly. Then the girl noticed Harry.

"I was looking into the pale white face of a gothic boy with spiky black hair with red streaks in it. He was wearing so much eyeliner that I was going down his face and he was wearing black lipstick. He didn't have glasses anymore and now he was wearing red contact lenses just like Draco's and there was no scar on his forhead anymore. He had a manly stubble on his chin. He had a sexy English accent. He looked exactly like Joel Madden. He was so sexy that my body went all hot when I saw him kind of like an erection only I'm a girl so I didn't get one you sicko." She narrated in a droning voice, dribbling slightly as she stared at the Boy Who Lived.

Harry was horrified. "I don't look like that, do I?" he asked pleadingly, tilting his face up towards Voldemort.

"No Potter. You look just like your usual weedy, under-developed self." Voldemort assured him curtly, trying not to let his enemy notice his gradual backing away.

"OMG! Vampire! I luv you, but u r such a prep 4 hpling Draco cheet on me. Hes my bf and wiv me u fucking losr! But you make me so hot undr my cloves. Lets make out and u can put ur thing in my whol!" The girl – 'Enoby' starting lurching towards the pair, her arms outstretched desperately and her smudged lips pursed into a soppy pout. "Kiss me, you fucking hotty!"

"Well, go on then Potter. Kiss her, be done with it and get her away from me." Voldemort hissed, pushing Harry towards the horrifying thing. Harry was resistant and dug his heels in. "Just kill her!" He demanded in a hushed voice.

"I thought you didn't condone killing?" Voldemort sneered, stopping his shoves.

"This is the exception." Harry muttered under his breath, his eyes filled with more fear than Voldemort had ever seen.

"I don't know. The crazy girl has the crush on you, not me. I don't see how killing her would benefit me in the slightest." Voldemort mockingly considered.

"I'll be your slave for a day."

"A month."

"A week."

"Three weeks."

"Two weeks- dammit!" Voldemort cursed.

"Ha! Now get rid of her. Quickly! Before she…" Harry gulped, "Kisses me."

Voldemort stepped forward, wand raised.

"Then all of a suddenly, an horrible man with red eyes and no nose and everything started flying towards me on a broomstick! He didn't have a nose (basically like Voldemort in the movie) and he was wearing all black but it was obvious he wasn't gothic. It was… Voldemort!" She spouted dully.

"What movie?" Voldemort queried Harry over his shoulder, approached 'Enoby' cautiously.

"Does it matter? She's clearly escaped from a ward in St Mungos. Just get rid of her and be done with it!" Harry snapped, crossing his arms.

" Anyway, I started crying tears of blood and then I slit both of my wrists. They got all over my clothes so I took them off and jumped into the bath angrily while I put on a Linkin Park song at full volume. I grabbed a steak and almost stuck it into my heart to commit suicide. I was so fucking depressed! I got out of the bathtub and put on a black low-cut dress with lace all over it sandly. I put on black high heels with pink metal stuff on the ends and six pairs of skull earrings. I couldn't fucking believe it."

The two of them looked in disbelief at the corpse on the floor.

"She killed herself." Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Obviously. Did she think she was going to survive that?" Voldemort scoffed.

"It just seemed a little… unprovoked." He sighed.

"Well, I was going to kill her." The Dark Lord pointed out.

"You've tried to kill me several times." Harry pointed out. "I haven't turned suicidal."

"No, that's a different fanfiction altogether."

"What?"

"Just ignore me. It's been a strange day."

Harry kicked the body non-too-gently, but it didn't twitch. "Huh, she really is dead."

"Face it, she probably did the world a favour."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose so. Just seems a little… anticlimactic."

"Well what did you expect? A huge confrontation, with guns, and cameras, and wombs?"

"Suppose not." Harry scratched his ear. "Shall we put this whole thing behind us? You can try to kill me another day. I just need to sleep. Knowing my luck, this has all been a hallucination, and I'm actually dead or something."

"That's a different book altogether."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, nothing. Well, see you around then, Potter?"

"Yeah. See you!"

The two of them turned around.

" WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!

It was….Dumbledore!"

"NOOOOOOO!"

Chapter Text

"H-hello? Hello? D-Dumbledore? I-it's Harry. I think he's… I think he's dead." Cedric wandered through a fog-covered graveyard, face glazed over.

"WHAT?"

Cedric winced and covered his ears. "Um, hello? Who's there?"

"Oh, I think you know. I think the whole WORLD knows!" Emerging from the fog dramatically, a faint silhouette took shape. Its head was bulbous, creating an alien likeness and its limbs were bony and malformed, forming claws hands at the end of each stick-like arm. It appeared to be levitating out of the grey mist and the light illuminating its features was an unearthly green.

"An… abused baby?" Cedric frowned.

"Lord Voldemort, you fool." The creature sneered. "Urgh, where's Potter when you need him? He would have recognised me." The Dark Lord wobbled unsteadily and he rolled his eyes. "Put me down, you imbecile, and extinguish that infuriatingly bright light."

The smoke cleared to reveal Lord Voldemort balanced precariously on one of Wormtail's hands. The other was being used to hold a wand, which was emitting a weak green glow.

"Put me down." Voldemort ordered. "Now!" Wormtail placed him on the floor carefully.

"Now, go get the brat's body - I can only pray the blood hasn't cooled." The Dark Lord hmphed. Wormtail looked taken-aback. "The-the b-body?"

"Yes. His corpse. Remains, cadaver, carcass, carrion – whatever you want to call it." Voldemort said impatiently. Wormtail started shuffling towards the Portkey nervously.

"Hurry up!" Voldemort snapped. Wormtail flinched and grasped a handle. He disappeared with a short squeak.

Cedric was still frozen; murmuring, "He died. He died. He died."

"Yes, he did. Get over yourself." Voldemort grouched, crossing his arms. "It's my enemy who's dead, and it wasn't me who killed him!"

"But he's dead." Cedric whispered hoarsely, his eyes haunted.

"Indeed. I can't say I'm gutted, but there's a small twinge, deep inside me, which might be grief. Or maybe I'm just hungry." Voldemort shrugged nonchalantly. There was a silent, broken only by Cedric's occasional moans and groans.

"What was it that killed him?" The Dark Lord inquired.

"A-acromantula. It b-bit him and the b-black spread through h-his v-veins-" Cedric shuddered.

"Darn. It wasn't even one of my followers. Just some stupid spider."

There was a 'womph' and Wormtail reappeared, Harry's dead body slung over his shoulder. He was trembling under the heavy weight, and finally plonked it on the ground, collapsing onto the grass beside it.

"Don't mutilate it!" Voldemort complained.

"It was heavy." Wormtail whined.

"Don't be a weak, pathetic… Dumbledore!" Voldemort spat.

"I can't help it." Wormtail whimpered. "It was how I was born."

"Just cut off his arm and drip the blood in."

" Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son. Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."

As Voldemort examined his arms with sadistic delight, neither Wormtail nor the Dark lord noticed the transparent form of Harry Potter materialise over his deceased body.

Harry looked down at his silver-tinted arms in horror. "Godammit! I'm dead." Harry ran his fingers through his white hair. "Myrtle will be so pleased. 'If you die, you can share my bathroom, Haaaryyyyy'. Urgh. It'll be torture.Can't I find peace in my afterlife?" Harry spotted Voldemort and his face lit up (literally, it started glowing). "You won't be returning to Hogwarts, will you? You'll be doing evil stuff, taking over the world…"

"No." Voldemort breathed in terror. "You can't."

"I'll haunt you. It'll mean escape from Myrtle, vengeance on my parent's murderer… and it'll be fun. It's about time I had some fun, even if I have to be dead to do it!" Harry said stubbornly, warming even more to the notion.

"You can't!" Voldemort wailed hysterically. "You can't carry on annoying me when you're dead. What am I supposed to threaten you with?"

"This just gets better and better." The cunning ghost chuckled, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"Argh!" Voldemort stamped his foot in irritation. "Come on. We're moving." He told his whimpering follower and marched off up the path, muttering in irritation.

"You can't escaaape," Harry sang, floating after them. "Oh Voldy, oh Voldy, your nose has gone mouldy, it dropped off your face, and went into space."

…

"He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead…"