Job Satisfaction

MAY-DAY

This was just typical. I become primordial ooze due to two meddling teenagers and the tooth of my once beautiful Basilisk only to land in the mouth of the statue of Salazar Slytherin, my illustrious ancestor – and to be lapped up by a feline who looked like he'd smashed into one too many brick walls in his time was a humiliation too far.

To add to the shame, I am now sitting on a cushion, lapping up milk whilst waiting for Lucius Malfoy to collect various ingredients and finding the right spell. This was too much for me to take. All I can say is that at least the animal I am within has some spark of intelligence about him. It was a shock to discover that cats were passionate creatures and had their likes and dislikes. I have never felt so entertained in my life by what I found out within his tiny mind. The desire to laugh was never so strong within me by the discovery that he despised the youngest Weasley male and was quite the schemer. The intricate plots he devised within his animal mind was intriguing, and all to sabotage the idiotic burgeoning relationship between his ambitious Mistress and the red-haired whelp she had set her eyes on. It was odd to be in accord with a creature other than a serpent. I decided I liked this cat.

His Mistress, I smirked at the revelation of who his Mistress was. The cat held her in the highest esteem. The way I was once held by my own familiar. I looked into the cats mind to find out more about her.

Images of being stroked on a warm lap, purring contentedly assaulted me, still I remained calm. I had to admit I also never felt as relaxed as I did when I viewed the most interesting scene of them all. The young witch was sat cross-legged in the middle of a bed made of patchwork quilts and blankets, as the picture grew I noticed she was in a colourful cosy bedroom with two single beds. She was stroking the cat (me) and he was purring in the dip of her lap, the book she was reading hovering in the air with a quill and parchment besides it as she dictated notes from the book onto the parchment. It was a serene, calming picture. That was not what grabbed my attention though, what did was what the witch was, (or wasn't) wearing.

Arrayed as she was in soft pink silk short pyjamas, the hem of her shorts were tightly hugging her thighs and the vest top straps were slipping down her pale creamy shoulders. Shoulders that begged to be nipped and massaged by the hands of a man. A proper wizard.

However, like all sweet scenes of peace, a discord had to be found somewhere. The harmony broken by the entrance of the youngest Weasley boy. I could feel waves of hate consume the feline. The cat really did despise him. The emotion was not shared by his owner though, as she practically glowed and preened under the sight of this boy's blue-eyed gaze.

Thankfully, the brat-who-lived also entered the room and briefly glanced at the empty bed as if hoping the owner was in it. So, the Potter boy had grown and found out what girls were for, had he? A small amount of pride entered my heart at this thought, I may have tried to kill him and without part of my soul in him he was just an average boy, but at least I managed to teach him things along the way.

The cat also looked at the boy with a glint of respect. It turned out that the cat had a familial love towards Potter. Why was that? Oh... ah, that was why, this was the kitten that... how interesting! There was already a shard of my soul here. It was that little piece that latched onto her. Oh, this was delicious, delightfully so, for I shall actually be resurrected in a body worthy of my greatness.

My servant returned to me complete with spells, a new wand, and potions ingredients.

I trust everything went well, Lucius? I asked through Legilimency.

The blond heaved a world-weary sigh: "Everything is as you said it would be."

Normally I would have taken him to task for his lack of respect, but I was aware that I had to change tactics to gain allegiances now. I could no longer follow the Pureblood agenda, that had not worked so well. I had to seek followers gained on personality and magical worth. Those were what made the best soldiers I discovered, they were the ones who fought tooth and claw to remain part of this world, like I once had to prove my worth. Lucius was not a dolt, he could adapt and change as well as a Chameleon Magickus, the ones who can actually camouflage themselves as opposed to the common muggle breed. I would keep Lucius, I decided, but first I'd have to de-activate the Mark and think of something else less garish.

Lucius was neat, precise, and executed everything flawlessly. Even managed to keep the cat alive which would work well in my favour. I was back to myself. Truly how I looked at the time of Lucius birth.

"Lucius," I sighed as I twirled glorifying in my nakedness in front of a mirror. "This was how I should have appeared the first time. You did well, I shall forgive your lack of judgement at the battle. I shall also forgive your wife for her lie and your son shall no longer be troubled by me. I find myself in a magnanimous mood. However," I could taste the anticipation in my follower's air, he glanced up furtively turning his eyes to the nearest escape route and my presence. I was not offended, I was humoured by his fear. "I shall tell you that, from here on, there will be no more Pureblood agenda! I shall rise to power, but I will need to change tactics. My first priority now is to mate and procreate with A deserving Witch. Do you know whom that may be?"

Lucius arched an eyebrow: "I have no insight into your magnificent mind," he bowed.

"There is only one witch clever, beautiful, and tender enough to fulfil that role."

"Do you wish me to obtain the witch?"

"No, Lucius, no. I shall disappear until August I think. Carve a new name for myself, an identity. I shall need to be prepared for my meeting with her," I turned on my heel to see Crookshanks breathing gently in his sleep. "Earn your way into her favour, Lucius, I will need you on my side in this next existence."

"Who is the lucky Slytherin?"

"Lucius," I said with a hint of warning. "What did I say about Pureblood agenda?"

"That it is no longer our concern," he wrinkled his perfect brow, "so then, who is it?"

"Only the most famous Muggleborn," I grinned. "Work hard to curry her favour, Lucius, I know you can charm the birds off the trees, I want her prised away from that Weasley dolt or close to being aggravated with him enough for me to swoop in and dazzle her. Return her familiar to her, he has done me a great turn and I always reward those that do."

"The ca..."

"Half-Kneazle, Lucius, this is more than just a cat."

"Do you have a name already?"

"That is what I need to work out," I said. "Reward the witch too, perhaps pay for her education. The Kneazle told me she sacrificed her parents memories of her to protect them. She will need financial support."

"Yes sir," he said – I suppose that would have to do. I was no longer him. I would not be recognisable to anyone else. "Do you wish me to Apparate you somewhere?"

"Little Hangleton," I replied, "I will gather a new plan and name and work from there."

"Yes, sir."

That was how I found myself sitting in the drawing room of my despicable Muggle home, doing what I once did as a teenager. Scraps of parchment were balled and thrown around the floor. I forgot how time-consuming working out a name from the one I already possess took. Three hours! The first three hours of my third life was spent in this gruelling endeavour. Especially as this time I had to factor in the Gaunt to make it work. Finally, I looked at the final product making sure I had used all the letters only once. I must admit I was rather pleased with the result, no one would suspect. Now all I had to do was go to Paris, learn French and research the family from whom my new surname belongs to.

I was already familiar with basic French, so I should be able to pick it up easily. This was going to be an intense Spring to Summer, but I can fit in rather easily anywhere I go. May the Fifth dawned, it was this day that I was on my way to France via unaided flight.