It's All Your Fault, Lord Voldemort!
By TwinEnigma
Blanket disclaimer: Anything you recognize, except for my OCs and the plot, I don't own. I do this for fun and absolutely no profit.
Chapter One:
In which we kick off the year with a bang...
Seventh year... The words sounded wonderful. Harry couldn't help grinning at the idea. One more year of putting up with that grouchy git Snape and he could start Auror training. Just one single year, not even twelve months, of ignoring Malfoy-the-Amazing-Prat and absolutely trouncing Slytherin at Quidditch. Things were looking up, for once, and he couldn't be happier.
To top it all off, there hadn't been so much as a single peep from Lord Voldemort all summer long. Normally, this would have truly worried Harry, but after seeing that his friends and all the members of the Defence Association had made it back to school alive and perfectly well, there was really not that much to worry about. In fact, it was something of a relief not to be worrying all the time.
There was only one thing that could possibly destroy his perfectly good mood right now.
"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape growled as he passed by. "Your potion should be green."
"Just one more year... just one more year," Harry whispered to himself, trying to keep his temper in check. Quickly, he added the Peruvian Vipertooth venom and stirred counter-clockwise. The potion slowly turned to the proper green colour.
With all that had happened in the past year, one would have thought that Professor Snape would have at least cut Harry a little slack. But, no, it seemed that the overgrown excuse for a bat was still angry with him about the whole pensieve episode from fifth year. Honestly, Snape could be really childish at times.
Hermione gave him a glance that clearly showed her sympathy for his situation. She, too, frequently was on the receiving end of Snape's criticism in classes, along with Neville and the scant other Gryffindors who had made it into NEWT level Potions. But 'Mione always kept a stiff upper lip in class, even during those times that Malfoy decided on being a horrendous prat and sabotaging her potions.
Neville was just beyond 'Mione, dutifully tending to his potion with all the care he had shown in taking care of his Assyrian Mimbulus mimbletonia. He may have not been the fastest potions brewer in the class, but he no longer had problems with melting his potions. Ever since the battle in the Ministry, Neville had been much more confident in himself and much less easily intimidated, making for one sorely disappointed Snape during sixth year.
Malfoy, on the other hand, was just as big a prat as ever. His father's incarceration, however short it may have been, had nearly made him unbearable at times with his incessant scheming and taunting. Of course, as much as the Amazing Bouncing Prat was an expert at shooting off his mouth, he was mostly all bark and no bite. He was rather comparable to a Jarvey in that respect.
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, picking up the tray of diced bloodhound liver and methodically emptying into his potion. He really should be being paying closer attention to this potion; Snape had mentioned that it was inherently unstable if left unattended at any point during its brewing and had a propensity for spontaneous explosions with unpredictable results. Sadist, Harry mused, resuming stirring.
Speaking of the sadistic overgrown bat, Snape was currently focused on prey of a Hufflepuff nature. At least he wasn't taking more points from Gryffindor at the moment. Thank heaven for small miracles!
Suddenly, the all-too familiar feeling of the snake uncoiling filled his entire being. Harry quickly muttered a charm to keep the potion stirring and started to raise the walls in his mind.
But he wasn't working fast enough and he knew it. "Professor," he managed shakily. "He's trying again."
"Idiot boy!" snarled the Potions Master, rapidly turning and approaching him. "What are you waiting for?"
Harry closed his eyes and cleared his mind, pushing back against Voldemort's mental assault. For a few seconds, it seemed like neither force was going to yield and, then, the Gryffindor suddenly found himself pushing forward into the Dark Lord's mind. He managed to catch bits and pieces of thoughts and memories, but nothing really substantial. Continuing to press forward, he managed to catch a glimpse of Voldemort's surroundings and gasped in horror. He knew that place!
Sensing his momentary unbalance, Voldemort used the advantage to shove Harry out and back into his mind. This time, Harry managed to raise every single one of his mental shields at once and shut him out. The serpent's presence faded, but he did not lower his guard.
Instead, Harry looked to Snape, his face ashen, and spoke. "He's found a way in, Professor, and he knows I'm here."
Professor Snape swore colourfully and drew his wand. "Mister Malfoy, go to my office and give a fire-call to the headmaster. Tell him that the Dark Lord is somewhere in the school and return here immediately," he ordered, glaring at the boy.
Malfoy stared at his head of house with something akin to bewilderment and surprise.
"Mister Malfoy, if you do not move your arse, I will make that incident with the ferret look almost pleasant by comparison. Now, go!" Snape barked and raised his wand threateningly. "And bring back some Draught of Peace! Granger, go help him!"
The Slytherin did not need any further motivation and hastily proceeded to Snape's office, Hermione following him without protest.
"Now, I want everyone to keep working on their potions until I say otherwise," the Potions Master stated, deadly calm. "And once Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy return with the Draught of Peace, you will each take a dose. The goal is to keep as calm as possible, is that understood? If you are calm and don't do anything stupid, you might just survive this."
Slowly, the students all nodded and tried to resume their work with shaking hands and nervous glances at the entrance to the classroom. A strained silence had settled over the class; it was as though no one dared to breathe too loudly, lest Voldemort hear them.
It wasn't long before Hermione and Malfoy returned, each carrying the precious flasks of the Draught of Peace. Snape approached them and quietly instructed them to distribute the potion and then take a dose themselves. They both nodded and immediately set to work.
Meanwhile, Snape turned and marched over to Harry once more. "Drink this, Potter," he growled, shoving a small flask into the Gryffindor's hands. It was identical to the ones being distributed by 'Mione and Malfoy. "And be quick about it."
"Whatever you've got in mind, it had better damn well work," Harry muttered and drank the potion, wincing at the taste. Shortly, he felt his nerves relaxing and anxiety fleeing.
Snape took the flask back and raised his wand. "I hope you like cats, Potter," he muttered and hissed a spell.
Harry started to protest, but it came out as a yowl and – quite suddenly – he found himself falling to the floor. On borrowed instincts, he twisted his body around and roughly landed on all four feet. He was still reeling mentally from the change in perspective and shook his head in an attempt to clear it.
The Potions Master leaned down and snorted, smirking slightly. "Well, Potter, I think you'll be quite safe in this form, provided you keep up your Occlumency."
Harry hissed at him angrily.
"Language, Mister Potter," Snape chided, picking him up and placing him on the table near Hermione's cauldron. "Try to behave like a normal cat, if you can manage that."
Harry really felt like taking a swipe at the professor, but refrained from doing so. He didn't want to lose any more house points, especially when Snape was trying to save his life, again. He reminded himself that Snape was just being a bastard because that was normal Snape behaviour and set about focusing on maintaining his mental wards.
'Mione returned and shot him an amused glance, before resuming work on her potion. Fortunately for them, this particular potion would remain in a stable state as long as it was being stirred and Harry's own potion didn't have to be watched too closely, except to add the crucial components; Hermione would see to that, undoubtedly.
There was a muffled noise outside the door to the classroom.
"Miss Granger, I thought I told you to get your cat off of the table!" Snape barked, glaring down at her.
"I-I," she stammered, momentarily caught off balance. "Blackie was a gift from... my boyfriend! I just got him before class, professor. I haven't had the chance to bring him back to my dorm yet."
"Ten points from Gryffindor for bringing your cat," Snape growled out, louder than usual. "Twenty points from Gryffindor such an inane excuse. Now get the cat off the table, Miss Granger."
Hermione gulped and hastily lifted Harry off the table, putting him on her chair.
Or she was about to, if the door hadn't burst open as a half-dozen Death Eaters charged into the classroom and Voldemort hadn't happened to follow them inside. Instead, 'Mione managed a strangled squeak and hugged Harry close as she and the other students all rushed to the front of the classroom and gathered behind Snape's desk.
Harry squirmed, trying to get free, but his brainy friend had a good hold on him and he couldn't free himself. He flattened his ears, giving an annoyed growl.
"Ssseverus Sssnape, so good to see you again," Voldemort practically purred, sweeping forward.
Professor Snape answered after a brief pause. He had probably been bowing. "My lord, what brings you to Hogwarts?"
"I've come for the Potter brat, Ssseverus," the Dark Lord stated, as though it were nothing more than a matter of the weather. "It's time to end thisss."
Snape paused a moment and then spoke again. "Well, unfortunately, Potter's little foray in Occlumency has made him quite ill. I sent him packing off to the Hospital Wing before he managed to contaminate his potion and accidentally detonate it."
"For your ssssake, he had better be there, Ssssseverus," Voldemort hissed, sounding very annoyed.
There was the sound of movement and then Snape piped up, "Wait, my lord! The Potter brat left his things here, including his wand, and - as I recall – it shouldn't be too long before he's back to claim them."
"Where isss his cauldron?" the Dark Lord asked.
"Here, my lord."
The sound of movement reached his ears, followed shortly by the sound of rustling. Undoubtedly, Voldemort was now searching his bag.
Hermione moved a little, motioning to Neville. Harry flattened his ears and clung tighter to her; he had a good idea what his friends were thinking and he did not like it one bit. There was also a faint acrid smell in the air and it was really annoying him. Hermione pointed towards the back of the classroom, mouthing something, and Neville carefully looked.
Harry caught the acrid smell again, stronger now. It smelled almost like something was burning.
"Listen, everyone," Neville whispered very quietly. "Harry's potion is starting to boil. It's only a matter of time before it blows up in the Dark Lord's face. When it blows, the Death Eaters will be distracted and we can stun them."
Oh, Harry thought. His stirring charm must have worn off.
Malfoy, keeping his voice low, drew his wand. "Dumbledore's on his way. He can deal with the Dark Lord. But Longbottom's right: we have to get the Death Eaters out of the way first."
"Then it's settled," Hermione said quietly. "We take out the Death Eaters when the potion blows up."
The other students nodded, whispering their agreements as they drew their wands. Harry started to wonder just why they were all so calm about this, when he recalled that they had all taken a dose of the Draught of Peace. Perhaps this had been Snape's intent in making them take it.
"Sssseverus, do you sssmell something burning?" Voldemort asked suddenly.
Hermione quickly put Harry down and drew her wand.
Now free to manoeuvre, Harry leapt up onto Snape's chair and peeked out over the desk. Voldemort was holding his bag in one hand and had turned away momentarily as he sniffed at the air.
Snape, meanwhile, made a quick visual scan of the simmering potions on the tables in the back. "Yes, just barely," he answered, finally, turning back to the Dark Lord.
It was right then that Snape saw Harry's potion – now a violent orange – bubbling dangerously. His eyes widened sharply in alarm, face going pure white. "DUCK!" he shouted, throwing himself to the floor.
Voldemort turned around, just in time for the potion to explode in his face, covering him head-to-toe in thick, bright orange goo. The Dark Lord looked livid as he slowly wiped the orange gunk from his eyes with a pale hand. He clenched his wand tightly with the other hand, grimacing. It was a safe assumption that he was immeasurably pissed off.
The Dark Lord seemed as though he was about to say something when, all of a sudden, he screamed in pain and doubled over, clutching at his stomach. He pitched forward, just barely grabbing onto the desk.
The Death Eaters all focused on the dark lord, some rushing forward to try and help.
"Now!" cried Hermione, leaping to her feet. "Stupefy!"
"Petrificus Totalus!" Neville and Malfoy shouted together; two Death Eaters fell, stiff as boards with their arms plastered firmly to their sides.
There were various shouts of "Expelliarmus" and "Incarcerous" from the other members of the class, along with stunners.
Snape stood up, looking around curiously, while his students rushed forward to further tie up and disarm the prone Death Eaters.
Harry jumped up onto the desk to get a better look around. Not a single spell had missed its intended target, owing to the fact that the casters were perfectly calm and their hands steady.
A rare smile crossed the Potions Master's face. "Someone get Potter and turn him back," he said, pointing at the cat-who-lived.
Hermione gladly obliged, restoring Harry to his normal form with a quickly spoken spell.
"What happened to Voldemort?" Harry asked, as soon as he was back to normal.
Snape looked down at the floor where the Dark Lord had fallen. "I'm not certain," he managed, looking bewildered. "But I think he's dead."
Quickly, the entire class gathered around, struggling to get a look. Harry pushed his way forward and stared. All that was left of the Dark Lord was a pile of goo-covered black robes and a wand.
"Well," Malfoy drawled. "That was rather anticlimactic, wasn't it?"
The pile of robes suddenly moved.
Everyone drew their wands, while Harry quickly picked up the Dark Lord's wand, and aimed them at the pile of robes.
The robes moved again.
Harry gulped, anxiously tightening his fingers around the wand and pulled back the robes, careful not to get any of the orange goo on him.
There, sitting in the pile of vastly oversized robes, was a small, pale baby with untidy black hair – appearing to be only a few months old, at most. He stared at them with bright green eyes, blinking owlishly, and hiccoughed a moment.
"Good lord, Potter," Snape said, staring incredulously. "He's a baby."
At that, the former Dark Lord began to wail with all the strength his little lungs could muster.
AN: This is an idea I've been bashing around based on a couple of intensely cute, though severely funny chibi-doodles I did featuring baby Tom and the regular cast. This story idea presented some of the funniest line ideas ("Malfie go Boom!" and "I can't raise the Dark Lord! I have NEWTs!") And this was produced during a manic period – meaning I couldn't sleep at all but I was in a very creative mindset.