I Sort of Miss Voldemort, I Reckon Maybe
Harry Potter, the newly instated Head Auror, reclined in armchair at his brother-in-law's house, recalling old stories of the war in the aftermath of his promotion party. As he drank a shot of firewhiskey, Ron and Hermione were explaining to Ginny again how the raid on the Ministry of Magic happened, and their grand escape with Salazar Slytherin's locket.
"I'd just got back from really mucking up the job of stopping the rain in Yaxley's office when suddenly the wife of the guy I'm impersonating walks out, and then there's the guy himself!" Ron was saying, his hands gesticulating wildly as he explained. "And I don't even know what happened next exactly, it's still very fuzzy, but we were out of the Ministry with Yaxley on us when we arrived at Grimmauld Place. So Hermione shook him off, Apparated again, and splinched me!"
He shot a winning grin at his wife, who merely pushed his face away from hers with a hand and began to clarify and correct. Ginny had always found the stories of the three friends while they were on the run to be quite interesting, though she always looked a bit put out that she could not have participated.
The five children that were the Potter and Weasley brood slept upstairs while their parents continued celebrating, swapping stories that the children could surely wait to hear until they were older. Indeed, Harry was very cautious about his children – he didn't want them damaged by knowing these things, and he didn't want any of them to feel entitled to anything because of who their father was.
But it was not his children Harry was thinking about right then. It wasn't his new promotion, either. He was focused on what came next in the story, of what Ron and Hermione had not experienced once they were in the wood. He could almost feel the pain in his scar again, remembering the way he watched Voldemort find Gregorovitch and discover that the Elder Wand had been stolen. Neither had known then that it had been Grindelwald, but Harry knew now. Almost reflexively, his hand went to rub his scar. The recalled pain almost felt real.
"Don't tell me your scar hurts, Harry," Hermione said cautiously, as she, Ginny, and Ron looked over to him. "There's no piece of Voldemort's soul there. It shouldn't be doing that."
"I know," he said, furrowing his brow. "I was remembering. That piece of his soul, though, it was in a lot of ways a part of what helped make me be me, you know? When I first wrote in that diary, for example, it felt like writing to an old friend, when I never really had that until Ron and Hermione came along. That was recognition between the Horcruxes. The ability to talk to snakes... I liked that. I almost wish I still had that."
Everyone looked at him sympathetically. There didn't happen to be any known Parselmouths in the world, and while the famous ones had been for the most part unsavoury, they didn't think Harry disliked the ability. It had come in useful, at times, after all. And while only Hermione could really understand the feeling of friendlessness, they knew that finding something that felt like a friend, even a Horcrux, must have been impactful on Harry when he was young.
"And now I'm Head Auror," he continued. "And, yeah, I wanted to be an Auror once I got into fifth year, and it is quite the job, it just feels... different from how I imagined it. There aren't any Dark Lords out there to focus on. All that's left is small crime and remnants of a broken organisation – and those remnants fight each other as often as they fight us. I miss having a single target. I miss having the ability to see that target's plans and doings. I could call it Scar-O-Vision I guess, and I sort of miss that."
Everyone gaped at him. They knew that Harry had emerged from death a different person, no longer sharing his body with a portion of Voldemort's soul. They didn't know, however, just how much Harry missed the person he had been before that, even despite the drawbacks.
"I think that I miss Voldemort, sort of." He said the words before he even knew he was saying them, and then he, too, sat in stunned silence. "I mean, I don't want him back, or anything. He just sort of provided a counterpoint to me. Something to strive against."
"Don't talk about yourself like you're a book or television character, Harry," Hermione said, giving Ron a look that said she'd explain television to him at a later time. Ginny sat by her husband and poured him another shot. He took it, and she massaged his shoulders, telling him it was okay to feel this way.
"You know, I could always be your evil other, Harry," Ron said, downing his seventh shot of firewhiskey that night. For some reason that man could hold more liquor than the other three in the room put together, and Bill for good measure.
"And since I have her wand still, I expect you'll want me to be your Bellatrix, won't you?" Hermione asked, pushing Ron gently and with a smile on her face. "Honestly, that's probably one of the stupidest ideas that's ever come from you."
"So says the woman who thought I had the emotional range of a teaspoon," Ron retorted.
"You did. Although you're at tablespoon now, dear," she replied acidly, while Harry and Ginny looked on with complete interest. They still couldn't figure out how to verbally spar with each other like this without hurting the other's feelings, and they truly wanted to.
"I could be evil if I wanted to be. And I'm smarter than you think. Check this out." Ron took out his wand and waved it, causing the word OLLIVANDER'S to hang in midair.
"I see. What's so special about that?" Ginny and Hermione both asked.
"Watch this," Ron replied. Harry watched with interest as the letters rearranged themselves much like another name had done many years before. RONALD'S EVIL, they now read. Harry laughed, and Hermione looked at her husband with some mixture of pride, anger, and interest. Ginny was chuckling silently to herself, although that might have been partially due to the alcohol.
"Okay, Ron. You can be my Voldemort. How are you going to decide what your Horcruxes are, though?" Harry asked, almost laughing at the notion.
"Well, besides you... I'll have to figure out how to get your mum to die for you again, and make you look like a baby, too... And then there's Pig, he can be my animal one. We'll do my wedding band and Hermione's journal..." he explained, ticking them off on his hand.
"My journal?" Hermione asked archly.
"I don't keep one. And you're my Bellatrix. Blind devotion, do anything for or to the Dark Lord that he asks of you, and all that. We can get one of those butterbeer cork necklaces from Luna and I'll use that. And then there's the Omnioculars we got at the World Cup way back. I'll also use a goblet from the school. And I'll be known as Lord Rondelmort."
"So, a lot of junk and a couple things which actually mean something for Horcruxes, and a silly name?" Ginny asked. Harry was laughing now at the name, and Hermione still seemed offended by Ron's choice of her journal.
"My name's not suited for an impressive anagram like Voldemort's was, Ginny," he explained. Hermione just shook her head.
"Ron, it just won't be the same. Thanks all the same for trying, though. If I ever do need a new Voldemort, I know who to ask," Harry said, with a wide grin as he downed the last of his firewhiskey. "You and Hermione take care. I think Ginny and I are going to hit the hay."
The two Potters went upstairs to the guest bedroom, and Hermione and Ron followed upstairs before entering their own bedroom. When they finally laid down to rest, Ron turned toward his wife. "I could be evil if I wanted to, right?"
"I'm sure you could, Ron. But why would you ever want to?" Hermione asked, propping herself up on her elbow.
"I just want to make Harry feel better, I guess," he answered, turning to face his wife.
"You don't need to be evil to do that, dear," she told him.
"I know. But that's Ginny's job."
She slapped him.