The Tale of the Human Compass
They called him the human compass. His name was, obnoxiously enough, Edwin Dump, and he could tell you where anything or anyone was at any time using a psychic ability passed down in the Dump family every ten generations. Tom Marvolo Riddle had been awaiting Edwin's learning to speak since he was born, and when the time had finally been at hand, Voldemort had been sent into his half-life. Unfortunately, since Voldemort was incapacitated during Edwin's formative years, the boy had grown up under the tutelage of his aunt, a half-mad mudblood with ideals of world peace and prosperity and with a liking for cuddly things, especially puppies.
Needless to say, when Voldemort had regained his strength and gone to collect the fifteen-year-old boy, the resulting creature was not what he had desired.
Edwin looked liked an evil minion, certainly. He had thick, slanted eyebrows, black hair, stone-like, pale skin, carved features that included an evilly hooked nose and steely, grey eyes. Still, the moment Edwin had spoken, Voldemort knew it would be a nightmare dealing with him.
"How do you sneeze?"
"What?" Voldemort hissed, his demonic red eyes flashing.
"How do you sneeze? I mean, you don't even have a nose, really, and I was just wondering…. Oh, I guess that was rude. Aunt keeps telling me world peace will never be achieved without consideration for others." The boy looked ashamed for a split moment, but then smiled eagerly up at the Dark Lord.
"Do you know who I am?"
"Lord Voldemort, I presume."
Well, at least he was that smart.
"My name is Edwin Dump."
Scratch that.
"I know who you are, you blithering idiot. I am here to collect on your mother's vow that you would be mine when I was inclined to take you."
"Why in the world would you want me?"
"I don't suppose you ever noticed that you have the psychic ability to locate anything and anyone simply by thinking of it?"
"Oh. That? That is just a parlor trick, really. Not actually useful."
"I beg to differ."
Tiring of the conversation, Voldemort simply stunned the unarmed boy and Apparated back to his lair.
"Can I announce you this time?" Edwin asked. He asked the same question every time Lord Voldemort wanted to enter a room. Thus far, Voldemort had always said no.
Today he was walking along with Severus, who had just asked if he would like him to leave and report back later.
"Yessss," he hissed intentionally, and Severus walked out of the room with a dramatic sweep of his robes.
"The Eminent Lord Voldemort, the Man Who Let the Boy Live!" Edwin shouted. The menacing cheer that had adorned the Dark Lord's face previously fell away and revealed a deep, simmering anger that always showed up when Edwin was near. As Voldemort walked into the room full of Death Eaters waiting to hear the next plot, Edwin used his admittedly weak wandless powers to conjure confetti over the heads of all present.
"Cruc-" Voldemort began.
"No, no, no, Voldie-poo, we all know that I stop directing you when you start torturing me, and you'll be forced to kill me. Who will tell you what Potter's doing after I'm dead, then, hmmm?" Edwin pointed out, his thick brows wiggling comically.
"When Potter is dead, boy…" Voldemort muttered, but chose to ignore the puzzled or amused looks on his minions' faces and began the meeting with a few gentle reprimands, only using the Unforgivables twelve times. He was trying to cut back, as overuse of blinding, searing pain often lead to blatant, fierce hatred, a feature he didn't like in his followers.
Just as Voldemort was easing in to the meat of his plans, something hit the side of his head, followed by a low giggle. When he looked back at Edwin, the boy's face was an immobile façade, barely holding back more laughter. On the floor at Voldemort's foot lay one of the dinner rolls served an hour ago. Angry, he turned back to his followers and continued outlining the plan of attack through his gritted teeth.
A few minutes later, in a haze of plans and maniacal thoughts, Voldemort did not notice as another roll sailed through the air and hit his thin, hunched back. Another giggle, this one higher, longer, and less controlled, escaped Edwin. Voldemort stiffened, but did not turn. He merely placed an impenetrable magical barrier between himself and Edwin.
Minutes later, Edwin was chucking dinner rolls at the barrier with wild abandon. No one was concentrating on the planning anymore. Most openly stared at the spectacle. Others glimpsed, looked away quickly, then glimpsed again. Voldemort openly ignored the scene playing behind him and continued to conjure figures onto his makeshift diagram of Hogwarts.
"My lord, I simply don't understand. Surely there are other ways to locate-"
"Edwin, where is Potter right now?"
"Left corner of his tent in Godric's Hollow, 104 meters from his parents' house."
"Now do you understand, Severus? Even with all my traps and clever spells, I can't reproduce such an automatic, rapid, and accurate answer. I would have if I could, believe me," Voldemort said, trying not to roll his eyes.
Severus threw an annoyed look at the boy trailing them. At that moment he was skipping and staring intently at the wall as they walked along.
"What about the Imperius? Wouldn't it be easier to… tolerate him if he were properly restrained?"
"Severus, you act as though I have not considered that possibility," Voldemort explained. Lowering his voice, he continued. "He has an extremely strong resistance to it."
"To your Imperius, my lord?"
"Quiet, Severus!" Lord Voldemort paused and looked around. "Yes."
"But that… that's incredible…"
"Oh, shut up." With that, the two men parted ways, Edwin following behind.
"Do you think Argus Filch could dominate the world?"
"What are you blathering about now?" Voldemort didn't even bother to remove the warm towel from his head.
"Well, I was just thinking about it, and he really is a very diabolical person. He scares the bateau out of half the modern wizarding world. I think he could do it. Probably faster than you could, even."
Voldemort growled, but didn't move for a moment until he lifted his head and pulled the towel off his head.
"Wait a moment. What is a bateau?"
"I think it's a boat."
"Ah."
"Anyway, do you have an opinion? I mean, right now he's sitting at his desk over a referendum about bringing back certain torture devices to Hogwarts. That's pretty evil."
"Idiot. Filch is a Squib. That automatically disqualifies him for world domination. Now shut up or I'll tie you to the chair with this towel in your mouth."
"I always forget you like your Hour with Dark Lord time."
"Would you stop giving everything I do a cutesy name? I am the master of darkness, a pioneer into pure evil, and you are encroaching on my Hour with Dark Lord!"
"All right. Guess the ol' Voldie Meister wants a little "Me" time. I can handle that. It's not like I have to talk all the time… But why does being a Squib disqualify him?"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! If he can't do magic, what advantage does he have over Muggles? And you've seen firsthand what magic does to Muggles. He couldn't get past the gates of that fetid old school if he wanted to!"
"I like Muggles."
"I don't care what you like, you blithering thorn in my bloody side! Just go to sleep! I need time to make some plans."
There was a moment of silence.
"What kind of name is Marvolo, anyway?"
Epilogue:
Edwin Dump was found wandering the forest two years after the end of the war with no memory of who he was or why he was there. He later befriended Potter and his friends, becoming the beloved Uncle Dump to their children.
When asked why he wandered for two years in the forest when he could determine the location of anyone and anything, Edwin answered, "What good is knowing how to get anywhere you want if you don't know where you want to get?"