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-For the sake of the story, pretend that Harry wrote these songs and that they came out in 2001. Harry is 21 now. An old fogey.

Wait For You- Elliot Yamin.

Grenade- Bruno Mars.

Dark Side- Kelly Clarkson.

Over You- Chris Daughtry.

I have an eclectic taste in music.

"Mr. Harris, you're on in five minutes!"

Harry, or better known to the public as Evander, smiled at his assistant. He really needed to lighten up. Worrying about everything would do him no good in life.

"Marc, get yourself some tea and calm down."

Marc was a small - smaller than Harry - Ukrainian man, who liked coffee and orderliness. While he was a nice bloke to be around, the man generally didn't partake in anything fun. It was always work to him. Work this. Work that. Work, work, work, work, work.

"The show hasn't even started yet, sir. I will calm down once everything is over for the evening."

"And call me Harry," the Brit said as he made his way towards the stage.

Five years on his own had brought him this far. Harry tucked himself into the lift and gave a salute to the technicians who offered him their well wishes.

He had a concert to do.

The Wizarding Wireless Network had been playing music by the same young man for the past several months. In Hogwarts, during lunchtime, students could be found eating together, chatting about their days, and listening to the music in the background.

The current song was a favourite among the teenagers. Evander Harris was a rising star in the Magical community and had apparently done 'gigs' in both Muggle and Magical venues.

The music was well liked and the news around the school, was that he was having a concert in London during the day, some weeks from now, and then he'd be traveling to the stadium used for the Quidditch World Cup in 1994, to have a concert that would raise funds for a Magical Charity that had been founded by one Neville Longbottom, two years ago.

Voldemort did not often find himself among the children, but today, he was seated in the Great Hall and he was exposed to the strong and soothing tones of one Evander Harris.

So why does your pride make you run and hide?
Are you that afraid of me?
But I know it's a lie what you keep inside.
This is not how you want it to be.

So baby I will wait for you.
'Cause I don't know what else I can do.
Don't tell me I ran out of time.
If it takes the rest of my life.
Baby I will wait for you.
If you think I'm fine it just ain't true.
I really need you in my life.
No matter what I have to do I'll wait for you.

Voldemort would admit that he liked the music despite having never been in a romantic relationship. There was something about the piano and the young man's tone that spoke to him on some deep level.

"How many songs has that been today?" Voldemort asked Severus, who gave a sigh.

"Five, my Lord."

"You aren't as put upon as you pretend, Severus. I know you like that one about getting over the other."

"'Over You'."

"Yes, that," Voldemort agreed. "I'm surprised at how well the male population has taken to the young man."

"You shouldn't be, my Lord. Unlike Muggles, we don't oppress the interests of the children due to gender normativity. If they like it, they are encouraged to participate. Simple. If only Muggles could understand such a concept, they'd be more tolerable. Obviously Harris has a wider female following in the Muggle world because it isn't 'manly' for men to like other male singers or some tripe like that."

It was always so humorous when Severus became heated over a particular subject. The man could rant four hours if he was allowed to.

The children were talking about the upcoming concert that was being held during the Yule hols so that more people could attend obviously, and as it was for a charitable cause, this one was not being charged. Any donations went straight to Frank & Alice's, the charity Longbottom had started.

This ensured that even those without any money could go and enjoy themselves. And more than money was being accepted, because the destitute sometimes needed more than just money. Many times, they wouldn't know what to do with it and would squander it on what they thought they needed.

Voldemort secretly admired Longbottom's work.

A new song came on, which caused a near wave of 'ooohs!' to ring through the hall. Another Evander Harris song of course.

Voldemort was certain that the song was named 'Grenade'. And the lyrics were so blunt.

Black, black, black and blue,
Beat me 'til I'm numb.
Tell the devil I said, "Hey" when you get back to where you're from.

"Is it a marathon, perhaps?" he asked though he received only a shrug in response.

"At least the music isn't terrible," Severus decided with a huff.

"Glowing praise coming from you," Voldemort smirked.

The man gave another huff and returned to his tea.

There's a place that I know.
It's not pretty there and few have ever gone.
If I show it to you now,
Will it make you run away?
Or will you stay?
Even if it hurts?
Even if I try to push you out,
Will you return?
And remind me who I really am.
Please remind me who I really am.

Everybody's got a dark side,
Do you love me?
Can you love mine?
Nobody's a picture perfect,
But we're worth it.
You know that we're worth it.
Will you love me?
Even with my dark side?

Voldemort had gone with the Malfoys to see the man that every teenager was ranting on about. How could he suppress his curiosity when everywhere he went, Evander Harris' name was on people's lips or his music on the radio?

The stadium was filled to the brim with people and at the very center, where the Pitch usually resided, was a large, black stage. There were concentrated orbs of magic all over to keep some light for the spectators. The top had been pulled closed because of the raging Winter weather outside, leaving it extra dark inside, with only the bursts of magic to help people see.

And then suddenly, the black stage was full of colour, much like a television screen. And on the 'screen' was a young man with light red hair and green eyes, smiling at the audience. For the people who were especially high up, it would look like they were watching a film because they were too far away to see Harris himself. And Harris was minuscule compared to the screen he was standing on, so he didn't interrupt the vision.

Harris began the concert by thanking everyone for coming and telling them all a little about what the Charity was for and just what the importance of it was.

There was a small daycare for children too young to attend Hogwarts, but too old for their parents to watch all day. There were classes for expecting bearers, to teach them what they needed to know. There were defence classes set up to teach people how to protect themselves should they ever lose their wands. Classes on Muggles and how to blend in better among them. Classes on traditions in Magical Britain and how to better acquaint oneself with the society. A daily lunch special that would feed those who were struggling. A donation center dedicated toward swapping out one's old and unwanted clothing for something else of equal value. The old clothing would then be fixed up and given away.

There were so many facets to the charity and it had become a very important fixture among the populace. So this had been a very generous donation from young Harris himself, which had only peaked Voldemort's interest even further.

He also seemed very familiar. That jawline.

The music began then, an entire band/orchestra accompanying him from the sides of the stage.

The first song had been reflective and Voldemort had to wonder if the boy drew from personal experience or if he was simply a good story teller.

Either way, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, allowing himself to be captivated.

Harry was left in shock when he was asked to meet the Minister for Magical Britain himself. A.K.A. Voldemort, in case anyone didn't know that. The man looked like he did when he was younger. All attractive, with high cheekbones and a suave countenance.

He was at least relieved to know that the man and his followers didn't even know who he was. They simply thought that he was a good singer who had won the hearts of millions.

And Voldemort… out of everything, he was the biggest shock. He wasn't insane. Or at least, he didn't come across as insane. The man was powerful like always, but he just seemed so mellow compared to the last time Harry had been in his presence.

Or rather, the man had been in his presence since they had shared a body for a minute or two. Voldemort had been inside him and not even in the delightful way, but more like the ew, gross, kind of way.

Marc flitted around, eyeing the Dark Lord distrustfully as he shadowed Harry's every move.

Harry rolled his eyes and waved the man off. What reason would Voldemort have to try to hurt him? Besides, he felt amused from what Harry could tell. Their link had still never fully closed and not once had the man attempted to come after him for whatever reason.

Not that Harry wasn't relieved or anything!

"Hello, Mr. Harris," Voldemort said, a very obvious purr in his voice.

Harry could not withhold the blush because the man was sexy and definitely Harry's type. Also, his confidence just made him ten times more attractive somehow.

Harry could feel a song coming to him and turned away in order to grab his diary from the side table and begin scribbling down lyrics that came to his head instantly.

Sitting back, he sighed. "Sorry about that, when the inspiration strikes, it's best to get everything out immediately or you'll lose it."

"And what sparked your inspiration, if I may ask?"

Harry leaned back as Voldemort sidled closer. He felt as if he was being cornered and in a way, he was. The wing-back was blocking his exit from one direction and Voldemort blocked all others.

"Oh, you know. Th-things."

"What sort of things, Mr. Harris?"

"You can call me Evander... if you want."

"Oh trust me, Evander, I most definitely want."

Voldemort was coming on to him! The Dark Lord who murdered his parents was coming on to him!

What did he do in places like this? He couldn't run, but if he Apparated, he would be leaving Voldemort alone with his possessions. And it was cowardly to run anyway.

But still, how does one react when the most powerful Dark Lord in history wants to get into your trousers?

Since Voldemort didn't know who he really was, Harry felt that he could take him up on his offer.

The younger wizard leaned forward, slotting their lips together in a chaste kiss that literally left his entire body buzzing and his scar throbbing slightly, though not painfully.

Harry pulled away in shock at the sudden feeling and found bright, crimson orbs staring him down.

"Harry Potter," those sinful lips whispered as a manic look spread across Voldemort's gorgeous face.

Before he could even move, Voldemort had pulled him up by his lapels and wrapped an arm around his waist, while tangling a hand into Harry's hair. Harry could feel his glamour drop immediately. "Perfect," the Dark Lord purred.

He leaned in and sealed off Harry's sputtering with a toe curling kiss and a very deliberate grind into Harry's lower half.

Harry moaned, completely shocked that the Dark Lord who had tried to kill him in the past, was trailing a hand down his back in order to grope his arse. And he was a damn fine kisser as well! Not fair. Not fair in the least.

And that hand was creeping into his trousers.

Harry decided that he didn't care much about 'fair' at the moment.

He found Harry Potter! He had found the boy who had haunted his dreams for the past five years! Voldemort could jump for joy… if he wasn't snogging the hell out of the young man though.

Ever since Voldemort had entered the boy's body, and not even in the good way, he had been afflicted with various visions of the boy's life combined with memories of his own life. The two put together could be so similar and yet so different.

It had been an eye opening experience for him. It lead to him taking the measures necessary to reclaim his sanity. And then to learn four days later, that the boy was going into hiding and would most likely never return, had been like a kick in the side.

Yet at the same time, it was great. Dumbledore was all alone and weaponless. Voldemort's takeover had happened faster than he assumed it would have because he was able to push his plans up. Harry Potter had forfeited the whole of Magical Britain to him. So in a roundabout way, the boy had been doing Voldemort a favour.

And now here he was, one of the most influential magicals at present, famous in both the Muggle and Magical worlds, by methods of his own creation and not because some barmy old fool bestowed an unwanted nickname on him for something he hadn't even done.

"Oh, Harry, do I have some interesting information for you," the Dark Lord breathed against the Gryffindor's lips. He wanted to tell the boy everything, but he also wanted to explore this particular moment between them for a little while longer.

The boy barely had a chance to murmur a questioning sound before they were on each other again. Obviously, talking would not happen much. Between the pleasurable tingling in his body from every place he was making physical contact with the younger wizard, and the feeling of that warmth seeping through his dark robes, Voldemort was more interested in the fun at present, instead of the past.

"Mr. Harris!"

The two broke apart at the scandalised yell, finding Harry's assistant standing there, looking horrified.

"What, Marc?" the boy grumbled, looking irate.

"You- him- Do you even kno- WHY?!"

And just like that, the odd spell that had come over them, vanished into thin air, leaving Voldemort to stare down the assistant with all the displeasure he could muster. They were having a moment and now it had been ruined. He wanted to torture something.

Harry reached out and smacked his arm. "No killing or torturing him, I need him and I like him. Besides, he knows very well who I am and is a bit horrified to see us nearly shagging on the chair."

The Dark Lord was not appeased, but he dropped the issue in favour of regarding the boy he hadn't seen in five years.

Potter was so much more mature now and his young features were prominent with a sharp jawline and bright green eyes like the Killing Curse. His natural hair was short and spiky, pulled back in a strange hairdo that made his hair look like the back of a duck or a chicken.

Still, he had an attractive air about him and Voldemort wanted to lay claim to every inch of the boy.

"So what did you want to tell me?" asked Potter, sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs with an imperial grace that Voldemort wouldn't have expected from him.

The Dark Lord returned to his own seat, mimicking the boy easily, giving off a now nonchalant air despite the fact that his trousers were obviously tented with his desire. He could play the game easily.

"Don't you want to know what happened to Dumbledore and your… acquaintances?"

Harry stiffened at the mention of them, but his eyes nearly glowed with interest. "Tell me everything."

Oh, he did.

Harry felt giddy!

Voldemort had done something for him despite believing that Harry would never learn about it!

It was so amazing that he wanted to grab the man and kiss him again, just to show his gratitude!

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had been dealt with in a most beautiful way.

They were put to work… as House Elves. And not the kind ones of Hogwarts that loved their lives and jobs and were friendly. No, they were turned over into Lucius Malfoy's 'care' and made into slaves. The difference between a House Elf and a slave, was that House Elves needed to work to constantly have an output for their magic. When bound to a magical being, their magic increased with the power of their master. House Elves could do extraordinary things depending on the power of their masters.

A slave got no rights. Slaves were not allowed to use magic. Slaves were fed the bare minimum in order to survive. Slaves did not get a chance to defy their masters, because they were forcefully bound instead of willingly like an Elf was. Therefore, disobedience was met with intense torture and sometimes death.

And Voldemort had informed Arthur and Molly of exactly why they were never to see their youngest children again. The man had relished informing them of their transgressions against Harry and how Dumbledore had easily fooled all of them into believing what he wanted them to believe about Harry.

Quite frankly, giving a Malfoy control over a Weasley was hilarious!

And then for Hermione. Voldemort did not kidnap her per se. He simply went to her home and obliviated her from her parents' lives and had them move to Australia under new identities where they would live comfortably. Yes, Voldemort helped some Muggles out. It was all very topsy turvy.

Overall, Harry was immensely satisfied with the results.

And to know that it was Luna who had brought this knowledge upon him and spurred on his abandonment of Dumbledore, had made him ecstatic!

As for Dumbledore, the old man was alive in a sense, held together by Dark Magic, though his body was separated into several pieces. And for as long as Voldemort wanted him to suffer, his mind would be constantly looping his worst ever experiences, to mentally torture him since losing his arms and legs weren't enough to out him through intense anguish.

Harry hadn't realised how bloodthirsty he could be until he found himself grinning madly at the description. And he felt no guilt over it.

As for Voldemort, or Tom perhaps, Harry was a little conflicted. The man tortured him, murdered his parents and then stepped on Cedric's face after ordering his death. And then to know that had the bastard not been messing with his mind, Sirius would be alive. Harry was a little miffed.

"Harry, I would like to court you."

Voldemort had a surprise for him. Something that would 'make him happy'. Something the man also thought would get him in Harry's good graces at least a little bit.

"I'm not mortal," the man had said. "As such, there are places that mortals cannot venture without dying themselves. I am exempt from this because of my immortality."

Harry didn't know why they were in the Ministry, but he was interested to see just what Voldemort planned to use to get his compliance with the counting request.

When they entered the Department of Mysteries, he began to feel a little ill, remembering the last time he was there. Still, Voldemort moved forward and so Harry did as well.

The Death Chamber was just as cold as the last time and the Veil made him uncomfortable. He could hear mumbling coming from the dark curtain. It reminded him of a Dementor's cloak with the unnatural breeze moving it to and fro.

"The living cannot enter the Veil without dying as I am sure you noticed. What the Veil is, is a portal between Death and Life and since it is of the Netherworld, no mortal may pass through. However, not all of us are forbidden."

And just like that, Voldemort stepped into the blackness and disappeared. And in that instant, the chamber went deadly silent. Harry stared at where the man had been, worrying his lip. Just because Voldemort claimed immortality, didn't mean that he was right. What would happen if he never came out and Harry was the last to be with him? Would he be arrested?

"Harry."

It was soft at first, making him look around in confusion.

His name was repeated several times and Harry couldn't tell where it was coming from. Only when Voldemort stepped from the Veil, with a blue light in hand, did Harry finally understand.

It was Sirius' voice and it was coming from the odd orb in the Dark Lord's palm.

"Black's soul. It just needs a body."

And Harry knew that Voldemort could create a body. Which meant…

Harry threw himself into the man's arms. It wasn't an apology, but it was certainly a start.

And perhaps, things could progress from there on.

31 July 1996

Harry stared at the Goblin as he contemplated his next move. Dumbledore had no actual control over him. Since Harry had received his O.W.L. scores, he did not need to stay in Hogwarts any longer and as Petunia was his guardian, there was nothing Dumbledore could do about it.

He'd already worked out a deal with her. He'd pay her a certain amount of money and they would move far away while Harry was given permission to do as he pleased wherever he pleased, which meant staying away from them. The Dursleys were all too happy to agree.

"I'd like to change the name on the vaults and get a new key made for each of them, please?"

Ragnarok had grunted and set about doing so, having already informed him of the price it would cost. Harry didn't care. Anything to get people out of his money.

"New name?"

"Harris. Evander Harris."

"People you wish to seek retribution from?"

"Albus Dumbledore, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Ginevra Weasley."

Some scribbling on several pieces of parchment. "Each have their own vaults. It has been proven that Dumbledore was removing money from vaults that he had no business holding the keys to. Your guardian should have held them until you turned eleven. In order to rectify this error, Gringotts will give you fifty percent interest from each person's vault, as well as lower our own fee by twenty percent."

Harry beamed. "Thank you! How much do you think it would take?"

"Dumbledore is reasonably wealthy, so while his vault won't be much affected, he will lose several items that don't belong to him and will be forcefully summoned back to your personal vault with your blood used in the summoning. The other three don't have much and it will completely empty their vaults."

The two shared a nasty grin at the suffering of others.

"Dumbledore couldn't set up any contracts in my name, right?" Harry asked, just to make sure that there was no way he could be forced together with Ginny.

"No. He is not your guardian."

That was good.

Harry concluded his business that day by removing a large sum of money and buying a new wand to use until he could use his own legally. Only a year to wait.

Harry then made sure to follow up his plans by taking control of Grimmauld Place and forbidding all Order Members sans Remus and Tonks, entrance. They hadn't betrayed him nor annoyed him, nor were they entrenched in Dumbledore's thinking.

Remus because he was logical and Tonks because she apprenticed under Moody, who taught her to think for herself and to constantly be vigilant. The only others who could come in were Fred, George, Luna, and Neville. Neville had been informed immediately of what had really happened that night in Gryffindor Tower, to which the teen had had a nervous breakdown, wondering if every bad thing that happened in his memories was really him or people making him believe that he was so clumsy.

It was a trying time for them all.

The moment Hogwarts started up again, Harry fled to Canada immediately, where he began his new life and met Marc, who noticed his talent instantly and hounded him to do something about it instead of wasting the talent he had been born with.

Harry's life had turned completely around when he was 'discovered'. It was a - if the pound could be pardoned - magical time in his life. He could write lyrics and work in tandem with his band to create music that people actually wanted to listen to. And it wasn't because he was Harry Potter.

Evander Harris was just some guy from Britain who was cute and got lucky.

That was it. And that was all it needed to be.

24 December 2001

Harry threw his arms around his godfather. Voldemort had brought Sirius back! Of all the things that had happened in his life, this had to be the greatest. Right beside making his ex-friends slaves to the Malfoy family.

"Harry!" the man gasped, his voice raw and unused.

"You're back," the boy soothed. "You're back and you're alright. I promise."

And Voldemort… well, Harry would have to think of how to repay him.

A/N: The first is done!

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CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.