Don't own anything. Everything came from J.K. Rowling's books. I'll try to visit my ancestors in times that she don't let her creations wander throughout cemetery, because my Imagination is just too happy to meet new faces. Again, sorry for disturbance.
First part is for fun, the second though... I tried to be good for Voldemort, not good like in the first fic, but good good, and might have gone too far, that's why M rating. If you don't like hinting for some not quite pleasurable things, STOP at the end of first part. You have been warned, thank you.
Harry didn't want to die. Especially hiding behind a grave stone. Being taunted didn't help. Nightmare that haunted his dreams throughout the years, just got reborn, and like so many times before was after him. But this time, it was for real.
But being from Gryffindor's house, Harry wouldn't allow himself cowardly death. So as he was standing to walk in from of Voldemort, he thought to himself that turnaround was the only fair thing, and he himself had couple of things to say.
"Not running any more, Potter?". Said Dark Lord, making his followers to laugh at the battered teenager."Would like a formal duel, or that I end it quickly?"
"Well, a chat would be nice" was a shy reply from the boy.
"You want to chat?" asked perplexed Voldemort. "Well... what about?"
"Nothing too fancy. You, me, killing, living and stuff."
"Since it's your last hour, that would make this a dying man's wish." The greatest dark wizard in this century had to think hard about that, but in the end, why not? It really was a long time since he had a relaxing small talk, because everybody around him tried to back stab or suck up to him. Those who didn't, were imbeciles. "All right, speak. But be quick about it, world won't conquer itself."
"Well, for starters, thanks. It's nice to make sure you don't have regrets before going 'to the next great adventure' right? Well, you wouldn't know anything about it, since as we see now, you got yourself out of the trip. But as we have some time, I just have to ask. Have you ever considered any other career?"
"Why do you ask?" said man who made enough zombies to be pretty sure that nothing could make him think 'this isn't the way it should work'.
"Well, I don't know. Maybe because your turning to the dark leads straight to this conversation and something you planned after?" mentioned the victim which by this time was slowly pacing around.
"I see your point."
"Don't get me wrong, I see the craftsmanship in torturing and killing, I really can see that. With all that hiding and making it to this level of skills that you now posses, it isn't that easy as it may seem on first sight."
"Well thank you, and yes, it wasn't" said older man, lost in distant memories, not noticing confusion that had spread throughout his ranks. Some of his followers were even trying to get some answers and were "politely" questioning Wormtail if he didn't mess up the ritual.
"But lets see your, pros. You have management skills, having your own organisation. Note that its an underground one, so you have people pretty much everywhere. You are skilled speaker, great charisma. You can make people do what you need to be done, especial under the radar since you have experience in that way of working." Harry stopped wandering, and sat down on moss, his back pressed to the gravestone, seemingly picking this place as the most suited for this kind of action.
"So far, I agree with you" Voldemort himself started to walk to sit down, thinking that it could go on a little longer than expected.
"It's get tricky now because we have to count your cons. You seem to like fear, well I don't fault you since it produces chaos, and you can use that to hide your actions. Taking hostages, torturing and killing are good sources of fear so its reasonable that you have those skills. But its the greatest con of all, because that's why everyone is after you, and you tend to get frustrated and angry and all that. But..." as he was speaking Harry moved to the side, making place for Dark Lord, and he turned to the left looking thoughtful.
"You may speak freely." he was that lost in conversation, that didn't even bother on whose remains he was sitting, and missed the width of this gravestone, which provided enough space for two people to sit in relaxed positions, and the fact that only one grave in this graveyard could manage it, his fathers.
"Well, I was just thinking, that everything would work if not only one minor flaw."
"What do you have in mind?"
Sigh, here goes nothing."You could run your own newspaper."
"A WHAT?" Asked outraged killer with mad expression on his face as he got up from the ground. Really not pleasant thing to look at.
"No, wait, wait, wait... listen me out." Harry was saying as he squirmed around the statue, next to Cedric's dead body.
That fast leap didn't make Voldemort any good. 'I really have to remember that you have to become accustomed with your own real body, after nearly fifteen years of being without one'. So as he rounded the grave, he stilled himself to stop the dizziness.
Harry took that occasion to speak.
"You already have everything to make a working newspaper, people in the right places, underworld from to the highest places, so you don't have to blend in and gain trust in right circles, skills in slipping news so only those you want to tell know them faster than the rest. Even your cons will work, because you don't mind people fearing news, you like it, in chaos you can track more news as everyone involved will get nervous and slip one or two words too much. You could still vent out on followers if they don't prove themselves, that wouldn't have to change. And the extra is that you could watch all the murder and torture sites, and read everything involving hostage situations WITH approval of Ministry of Magic, they'll even pat you on the back for it, because you're an expert in those and could throw in your insight on the matter. If you want to take authority a peg or two just make them wait several hours, or days, before you gracefully take the case. You see, it fits. You just have to see it." Now he understood how Hermione could speak everything in one breath. If you really need to let it out, you just can.
He stood there, waiting for the dizziness to pass, and listened to the boy. And as he stood, he could see it all working out, it was simple really. Completely legal way of doing what he did now. He had that moment when you see the whole picture, how small things work together linking into groups, which then could be linked yet again, and again, and in the end he would be at the top of it all. And that sight made him smile.
While Voldemort was digesting things, Harry was slowly moving away from him towards small cup laying just beside Cedric's body 'Just a little more, just a little. Stalling was easier than I thought, he really likes to listen about himself. Ducking was tricky, damn he moves faster than I thought. Thanks Merlin that he's still standing there. Come one Cedric, were going home.'
He was there, reaching for the cup, squeezing Cedric's wrist to reassure himself that he'll surely take him as well, but one word made his whole world stop for a second. One, barely audible "Okay."
Frozen in place Harry asked "What?"
"I said that I like that newspaper idea. I could sacrifice being really at those sites for mass of information that would come my way. After all you said it yourself. Its legal. I could improve a pensieve to add the rest of the senses while in there... now that's a though." Dark Lord looked at him, as he just rolled on his back to stare back with eyes opened as wide as they possibly could. "You aren't that stupid after all, and that friend of yours... Granger was her name right? Fancy a job somewhere in the future? I could really use..." Voldemort started saying with gaze cast of into the distance, and a smug smile on his... face.
Harry didn't ever heard what was after that. Not that he didn't want to pay attention. He just fainted.
Its funny how the odds work, because after several years some people were still cursing and some were still blessing The Night at the cemetery.
When Voldemort have his eyes on something, you know he just have to have it. So firstly, he acquired headquarters to get things started. He made raid on Azkaban, but... he didn't move out. Could you really blame him? Damp, stony corridors looking like dungeons, practically no lights, that chill and dreadfulness in the air at all times. Home, sweet home.
He remodelled Death Eaters squads from strike forces to delivery men. Captains were distributed to regions, then others filled that with smaller areas. Getting information, collecting memories from corpses, because brain lived couple of minutes after death, and you could get the actual "recording" of crime, if done fast enough. And of course delivering the papers and relishing in the looks of shocked faces getting those green hint's as people keep on reading.
So he started his newspaper, got the rout`s for depositing information, (preferably memories in their silvery form) for Dementors to take to him. But with all those Dementors around he had to feed them with something, so he added to his paper couple of runes that would gather emotions from the environment. Having spent some time with pensieve's trying to add senses to them, he stumbled on that peculiar set of runes while experimenting.
And it was working too, because once you read through Dark Press ("Will send shivers down your spine") you didn't want it any more. Voldemort being himself would only print one type of news. Bad ones. Bad isn't the word. Blood freezing, heart stopping type of news I would say. So those runes did good job to reduce it to shivers. Well they lessened the first shock and prolonged it in time, so runes could pick emotions better (translation: you lived though it and ended on the lower end of hear attack alert scale). And so the paper was sent back, Dementors got their food, and there was free paper for next edition.
Dementors, were another bonus. You could take a memory from your mind, not erase completely, just fade it enough so it wasn't up on top. But since you always have feelings, though sometimes they are just too feeble for you to notice, and dementors can eat those, especial when memory is of something terrible... But they don't stomach memories very well, and they kind of, well... they suck emotions from those images and give the rest back, but after eating normal emotions they're okay again. Something Voldemort discovered when not enough papers came back and dementors raided his memories warehouse. Good he made copies.
And it was another example how odds can turn play with you, because what you get after dementor digest a memory, is the memory... but without emotions. One could stoop there but not Voldemort. What he began to test was memory shakes. Yeah you read it right, they weren't potions or such, they were drinks from gathered memories and herbs that didn't put the memory in its silver form, but ink form, which automatically written its story on paper. And in that way were born Dark Press book collections. Deadliest massacres, bloodiest Bloodbaths were only the beginning. Among others were medical guides how to slice, cut, dice, chop, and so on, and so on, with everything and anything in every direction, told in cold clinical language, if you wanted to read what you could stumble upon in Saint Mungo's, or only need example to practice upon.
I forgot to tell why people cheered and wailed about the news in Dark Press. Because you see, when you can print anything, and want to print only the angst stuff, you only need to print the truth. Normally newspaper turns small thing into big one so it sounds important, and when you check. it seams insignificant with what was in the paper. But as world isn't perfect, even with Voldemort not messing it up, there were enough bad things to write about. And if you checked on them they could be only more sickening than in the paper, because reading about something and seeing it...
So if someone got robbed, killed, kidnapped, or something else that was scary enough, you knew about it, all the details included. It got easier for Auror's, Wizengamot, people who wanted to ally themselves with the truthful. Even underground knew who rolled who out of business and how, so everyone was prepared as not to end that way yourself. That part of the world would spin faster, as to not stay behind with the news.
The other part, kids, parents of said kids, elderly people with weak hearts. That part dreaded the paper and made all effort to not get at ear, or eye length near it.
And the prophecy was somewhat fulfilled, at least for magic itself this course of action was enough, because Harry bested Voldemort, out thinking him. And Voldemort never understood the power of helping others out, especially if it was in a pinch and that someone was your enemy. And we all know Harry. He went helping others as he could his entire life.
So Voldemort was controlling the world as he dreamed That Night at the cemetery. Well, at least part of it. He no longer was a Lord. Now he was a King of Dread, Master of Angst, more such titles following. Having enough blood dripping stories to live through in his enhanced penseive for centuries, then he could simply make more. And that made him happy, or equivalent when you're evil.
And all was well. At least as stress free as it could be.
AN. When I am writing, I try to be original, but when I am re-reading it, I can see that I twisted in different direction an idea that I stumbled upon somewhere before. That's why privilege of inventing the idea of scary newspaper with runs on it goes to Perfect Lionheart. It is in his story "Partially Kissed Hero". You should read it as it is superb. I am sorry for not connecting the dots earlier.