An: Let's just say Placebo rocks. I don't own Placebo's 'Infra Red'. Notice the possessive noun before Infra. Beware my attempt at Horror.
Summary: Voldemort has revenge on his mind. Song Fic, 'Infra Red' by Placebo
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One last thing before I shuffle off the planet, I will be the one to make you crawl
so I came down to wish you an unhappy birthday
someone call the ambulance, there's gonna be an accident
Voldemort watched with gleeful red eyes as his Death Eaters assembled before him. Oh they were going to have so much fun tonight! Cackling loudly and scaring some of the newer recruits, he beckoned Bellatrix to him.
"Yes my lord?" she kneeled before him and kissed the dirty hem of his robes.
"We're going to attend a birthday party, my dear Bella." Voldemort gave a maniacal grin and let out a low hissing laugh. His red eyes glinted maliciously. "I suggest you should collect our presents to Messrs. Potter and Longbottom." Bellatrix practically salivating at the thought of Crucio and a room full of people, bowed low, still grinning like a lunatic and scurried off to find the party favors her master wanted.
Once Bellatrix returned, the Death Eaters were assembled in neat rows, excitement crackling in the air. Death was they want and death was what they demanded.
Voldemort wouldn't deny them that. "Are you ready Bella?" he hissed at her and watched as several Dementors floated behind her freezing the air and stone corridors behind her. She was holding a cage full of poisonous twisting snakes, her hands protected by a pair of magical gloves.
The Death Eaters shivered but he didn't pay them any attention at the moment. "Excellent Bella." He muttered to her.
"Thank you my Lord."
"Now we will leave for the festivities!" Lord Voldemort turned on his heel and accompanied by another couple of dozen or so cracks, disappeared.
The Dementors went along with him as well as the snakes. Oooh! Was he going to have fun! If Lord Voldemort was going, he was going in a ball of flames and taking the world with him.
I'm coming up on infra-red,
there is no running that can hide you, 'cause I can see in the dark
Lord Voldemort let the sneer take over his face as he watched the shoddy wards around the hovel fall. Sometimes the connection through the scars worked so wonderfully in his favor. He thanked the twisted scar on his right elbow and marched through the still fraying wards, blasting them away.
The Dementors had already gone forward sensing the large amount of emotions. Voldemort reveled in their death and despair.
I'm coming up on infra-red,
forget your running, I will find you
Voldemort glared at the cowering teens, shooting several cutting hexes their way before quickly abandoning them and searching for larger prey.
Where in Salazar's name was the Potter whelp? Or the old fool Dumbledore? One would think he would come to the Golden Boy's aid. He spotted the other birthday boy, desperately dueling Bellatrix. He watched in amusement as Bella gleefully shot a Crucio at the pudgy boy.
"Widdle baby Longbottom wants to join his parents in the hospital?" She cooed wickedly, madly cackling even when several Reductos were fired her way, one coming dangerously close to her head.
One more thing before we start the final face off
I will be the one to watch you fall
so I came down to crash and burn your beggars banquet
someone call the ambulance there's gonna be an accident
There he was! The mop of black hair was distinguishable even between the mess of spells and bodies. The Potter boy was holding his bleeding forehead and Voldemort's own elbow was leaking a bit. It didn't matter; he was used to the pain.
Voldemort raised his yew wand and shot a Severing hex towards the boy. The sneer curled comfortably on his face as he watched the boy fumble around for his wand. Did they actually expect him to take this Halfling seriously?
Then 'Lo and Behold, the mighty Lord of the Light came swiftly in view, acting younger then he should. Twinkling blue eyes were serious for once and there looked to be a snake bite on is forearm, his tattered sleeve baring it all.
Looks like the old coot had some trouble.
Lord Voldemort ignored the Chosen One (who took the chance to help the pudgy boy) in favor of Dumbledore. The Headmaster was going down.
"Tom." Dumbledore greeted him, face and voice quiet.
Voldemort couldn't help but sneer harder. He shot a curse he couldn't exactly remember the name of, but when hit with, the victim's intestines were cut out and spilled for all to see.
It was rather gruesome and a sight he enjoyed. He was pretty sure his Death Eaters would love to feast on the old man's organs.
And as he sent curse after curse, dodging reanimated pieces of furniture (Déjà vu anyone?), the smell of burning flesh meet his non-existent nose.
It's starting to get dangerous.
Voldemort sent a low pulse through the Mark, a slight twinge of annoyance tainting it. He saw a nearby Death Eater wince before turning and apparating.
Fools didn't even erect Anti-Apparation wards. The others turned and left before the Order could get the idea of stopping them.
He left the Dementors and snakes behind, leaving the Order of Flaming Flamingos to clean up.
Life was good, he thought as he relished Dumbledore's dismayed look at his departure.
I'm coming up on infra-red,
there is no running that can hide you, 'cause I can see in the dark
I'm coming up on infra-red, forget your running, I will find you
(I will find you!)
An owl came though the wards, easily swooping down to where Voldemort sat on his throne like chair.
After all, the owl has been there before. And after sending one of the house elves scurrying to get the owl food and water, Voldemort unrolled The Daily Prophet.
Ah, it was nice to have loyal followers who gave you the paper.
He scanned the front page and saw a blown up picture of The Boy-Who-Lived fighting alongside the pudgy boy (he believes it was Longbottom, that's what Bellatrix said right?) a look of determination etched into his face.
He looked at the article and smiled with glee as he read everything the moronic reporter wrote. When would Fudge learn to keep the Savior out of the paper?
Not anytime soon he hoped. The boy never could keep out of the public's eye, a blessing and a curse.
Someone call the ambulance, there's gonna be an accident
I'm coming up on infra-red,
there is no running that can hide you 'cause I can see in the dark
The tickle of insanity and depression crept ever so close to Harry, in the form of a red eye megalomaniac. How Voldemort enjoyed oozing through their link and Potter's mind like a deadly toxins. Planting vivid images of his former victims that Potter wasn't exclusive to before; a little girl with smiling blue eyes and blonde hair, a muggle woman trying to fend off her attackers, desperate to protect her children, a whole family massacred, their insides forming words on the wall.
And lastly, in crystal clear reality and not distorted by the Dementor's cold bragged breath, the night Voldemort murdered the boy's parents. He relished the teen's screams that night, an addiction that had him coming for more and more.
I'm coming up on infra-red,
forget your running, I will find you, 'cause I can see in the dark
Every night, Voldemort visited the teen's mind, planting former conquests and recent raids, leaving behind his fantasies of death under a Christmas Tree of Horror, decorated festively with twisting hissing snakes and severed heads.
Oh how Voldemort enjoyed the holidays! He even left an extra present, the body of that mudblood girl, her arm marred by a cheerfully winking Mark, wearing a Santa hat.
Maybe he should do a reenactment for his beloved Potter? Just so he wouldn't mourn the loss of the first performance.
I'm coming up on infra-red,
there is no running that can hide you, 'cause I can see in the dark
Insanity came closer. Clucking and cooing in saccharine sympathy. It approached Potter carefully, wanting to wash all the worry and stress and the fatigue away.
Voldemort was bombarded of memories involving worried eyes, dark circles and glances sent toward the boy. Confinement was a present theme, persistently popping up everywhere he turned. Swirling chaos always greeted him when he entered Potter's mind try to snag him and pull him into the mess and never to turn back.
And when they tried, Voldemort would swat it away even though they tore at his own robes and reasoning, always taking a while to end his own delirium, ending up on the Shores of Sanity.
When he did, he congratulated himself on a job well done on bringing Potter's fall.
I'm coming up on infra-red,
forget your running;
I will find you
I will find you
I will find you
And Harry Potter fell into swirling darkness and chaos, while Voldemort reigned.