A/N: Before beginning a thank-you should be given to hp-lexicon for their organisation of HP-stuff.
Disclaimer: None of the recognisable HP-stuff belongs to me. It belongs to JKR and whoever she's sold the rights to. This stands for all chapters in this story.
Monster under the bed, by Diruo
Chapter one; A surprise underneath Voldemort's bed and An introduction of the DWIB society
Harry Potter was feeling slightly happier than he had been for a while now. Because he had been rather depressed since his godfather fell through the veil. But now Harry was content to, to for once, be out in the open without fearing for his life. The reason for this was that he had managed to brew some polyjuice potion before leaving Hogwarts for his annual stay at the Dursleys. This potion, which enables a person to become another for an hour, had now been imbibed by Mister Potter so that he could go to London to shop and maybe, if time allowed it, go sight-seeing. But as we all know Harry Potter's happiness never lasts:
Harry had no idea what a Death Eater was doing in muggle London, but there it was. The Death Eater was not one of the inner circle though, just some low-ranking thug that thought that his Lord would be pleased if his dungeon got a Ronald Weasley decoration.
Harry had just stepped into a small side alley to reorganize his bags when suddenly he felt a hook-like sensation in his navel. Moments later he was crashing into the ground in front of some old castle. He barely had time to gather his wits before he felt his wand being summoned, but luckily he had a plan for such an occurrence, a fake wand he had got from the twins. Originally he had hoped that the being under polyjuice would make the Death Eater summon "Weasley's wand" but apparently the Death Eater wasn't very specific in his Accios. So when he felt his wand being summoned he held on to it with all his will and magic while letting the fake wand slip out of his pocket, because even if it was a fake wand it was still a wand. Unfortunately he didn't have time to draw his real wand and stop himself from being stunned, so when he next woke it was of course to the sight of a cold damp wall in a dungeon cell.
Harry slowly stretched his limbs trying to feel if he had acquired any injuries. No, apparently not. Next he searched his clothes for his wand and his bottle of polyjuice amongst other things. All there, stupid death eaters. He put his ear to the door to which silence met him, so he took a chance and whispered Alohomora, only after trying to open the door the normal way of course. Who knew if a Death Eater that didn't even search his victim for dangerous items after knocking said victim unconscious would remember to lock the door? Well, apparently the Death Eater had and thus the Alohomora.
He was slowly creeping into the corridor after taking another swig of his polyjuice; it wouldn't do for someone to notice the Boy Who Lived sneaking around in one of Voldemort's hidey-holes, now would it?, When he in the faint light of his wand noticed his shopping bags lying crumbled against the wall opposite the cell door. He raised his eyebrows in amused astonishment but shrunk them down and put them in his pocket anyway while sparing a thought towards the Ministry of Magic's department of Under aged Wizardry and whether or not they would send an owl with an envelope marked:
Harry Potter
Dungeon
You Know Who's Castle
Maybe. But on the other hand they would probably not take any notice of the address. Morons, the bunch of them. Hmm, if the Ministry was moronic, the Death Eaters idiots, and the Order hardly knew what they where doing, maybe he should start his own group; the Society of DWIB, a Defence with Intelligent Beings?
A noise down the hall pulled him out of his thoughts with a violent start. When trying to escape from Voldemort's castle it was not the time for planning a group of Dwibs obviously. He scanned his surroundings quickly and thanked his lucky star when he saw an open door to his left. He rushed in through the opening to find a lavishly decorated room. Frantic for a hiding place as he was he rushed further into the chambers, through another door, only to find a bedroom. But Harry truly was desperate so he felt he had no choice but to dive under the bed. As he tried to calm his fast paced heart the footsteps became louder and moments later he heard the door close with an ominous thud.
Voldemort sighed to himself as he searched his pocket for his self-cleaning handkerchief. He liked living in the dungeons for safety reasons. Who knew when a bomb or some other highly explosive thing would feel like blowing up his castle? Besides it was closer to the escape tunnels down here. Damn Aurors and their Anti-Disapparation jinxes. But living in the dungeons also had an unfortunate side-effect; it irritated his sinuses, in other words, his nose got runny, often, which was why he had the handkerchief. If he only could find it… where did he use it last? He backed out of his chambers and walked back along the corridor until he came round the corner. Aha! There it was. He picked it up, looked around a bit before he made use of it and then he could finally head back to his chambers again.
When our dear self-appointed lord stepped in to his chambers the second time that afternoon he sighed again. A rarely considered side effect to being a Dark Lord that didn't trust his followers was being made to take care of a large amount of paperwork by himself. Before Lucius imprisonment he could at least force him to take care of the minor stuff, even if he didn't trust him he still knew how to handle paperwork, but now Voldemort had to do absolutely everything himself. For a moment he thought about making Wormtail take care of some of it, but he was sure he would butch up a simple thing like that too. After all he couldn't even make a potion that only required three ingredients on top of a very simple base-solution! What most didn't know was that he wasn't supposed to look like a humanoid monster after his resurrection. A little snake-like sure, but not some pale emaciated skeleton without a nose!
He bent down to take of his boots but remembered to find his slippers first. The floor really was damn cold. At a first glance he couldn't find them though, but then he saw something peak out from beneath his wine coloured bedspread. He lifted it slightly and ah, there they were. Then Voldemort blinked confusedly in surprise because he found something else there as well.
When Harry awoke it was with fear coursing through his body. He had managed to fall asleep in enemy territory! Then the softness underneath him registered and instead confusion rose in his mind. He slowly opened his eyes and saw, dun, dun, dun… a stone ceiling! But he must have had made some noise in the process because suddenly he heard a slightly familiar voice state:
"Finally awake I see."
Harry turned his head, noting absentmindedly that that was all he could move, and came upon a strange sight indeed: A Voldemort with hair and, not a nose, but a small bump in the place where a nose should be. Harry blinked in confusion both at the sight and the absence of pain in his scar.
"Voldemort?" he said slowly, hesitant.
"Yes?" the figure raised his eyebrow.
"What…Are you doing paperwork?" Harry changed his question when seeing the ball-point pen in his hand and the stacks of paper and piles of parchment behind him.
"Of course, who else would do it?" the red-eyed person answered.
"Are you sure you're Voldemort, the Dark Lord?" Harry couldn't help asking.
The figure got an annoyed crease in his forehead. Upon which Harry felt a slight twinge in his scar.
"No, I'm Harry Potter using polyjuice. Of course I'm the Dark Lord! Do you want me to Crucio you as proof?"
"No that's okay. I can feel it now." Harry was quick to reassure.
"Feel it?" Voldemort sounded almost curious.
"Yes, my scar hurts when your emotions become strong about something. The closer I am, the more I feel apparently."
"Hmm."
For a while silence ruled until Harry said:
"You know, you should use a computer."
"Yes, but how do you think the purebloods would react if I asked them to write their reports on a muggle machine?"
"They would revolt."
"Exactly."
Silence again. This time it was Voldemort's turn to break it:
"What were you doing under my bed?"
"Ehm… Well, I was shopping in muggle London disguised as my friend Ron, you know Weasley, when suddenly one of your Death Eaters grabbed me and port-keyed me here."
"And he didn't think to remove your wand or search you for other items?"
"Well, he tried to summon my wand but I made him get a fake one instead."
Voldemort sighed.
"Now you see why I have to do my paperwork myself."
Harry nodded and they fell silent again before Harry decided to ask:
"Do you want to join the Society of DWIB? You could be the secretary? Get to use a computer?" As these questions shows Harry was still a bit out of it, too many shocks in one day on top of a depression can do that to you.
"Excuse me?" Voldemort stared at him.
"Well you seem to suffer from being surrounded by morons as well as having experience with paperwork and the Society of Defence with Intelligent Beings' goal is to defeat the stupidity in our community with the first targets being Death Eaters, the Ministry of Magic, and the Order of the Phoenix."
Voldemort kept staring.
"And who are the members of this society?"
"Actually, so far it's just me. You see, I got the idea while escaping from the cell your follower left me in with an Alohomora."
"We'll see. Why don't you make a thorough design first?"
"You're not going to kill me?"
"I'll let you live for now and then sometime slightly before the new term at Hogwarts begin I'll consider both your proposal and whether or not I'll let you live again, deal? Of course, you'll have to promise not to try to escape or harm anyone here."
"What about self-defence?"
"Only then, but do try to avoid such situations where it is necessary."
"Ok, deal."
"And?"
"Yeah, yeah, I promise not to try to escape or hurt anyone except in self-defence."
A swirl of magic swirled around them to confirm their deal. Not anything dangerous just something that would alert them if the other was about to go against their word.