Disclaimer: I'm not J. K. Rowling and do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this fanfiction.
"Italic - Parslethongue"
The Cleaner
Worry About Serpents
Harry stood silently under an invisibility spell, staring critically up at the house. It had been easy to find the way to Little Hangleton, to the minister's manor. However, now that he was standing there, looking upon the beautiful house, he hesitated.
What if Baldwin wasn't even there? It was possible.
Swallowing harshly he made his way over the grass. He had his suitcase with his weapons with him, just in case it ended with him having to kill the minister early.
He hoped it could wait; he did not have enough information on the man to think he was ready. Though it was incredibly difficult to get anything on the old-man, so maybe he never would be ready. It was incredible that people knew almost nothing about the man; he was the minister!
As Harry got closer to the house, he noticed that there were absolutely no lights inside, so he assumed that no one was home, but he had to be careful nonetheless, for all he knew the man liked the dark.
Harry walked quietly up to the door. He usually had control, but now everything was so far from controllable. He had no idea if the man was home, if he had any maids or how the interior was laid out. Harry hated his situation and wished nothing more than to go home. Nevertheless, his need to rescue Baldwin. Heart guided him, denying his head to supply with logical solutions and actions.
He snorted quietly to himself. What was the worst thing that could happen? That he died?
Deciding that there the worst thing that could happen was him failing his job, he did the worst thing he could possible do. He turned the door handle and entered the house just like a guest would. Upon entering the building, he became aware of the foreboding silence. Swallowing in nervousness, he glanced around worriedly.
Harry knew things could not get any worse than they were, so he whispered slowly into the dark. "Baldwin…"
No reply was heard, only a silent tapping sound from what he presumed was water. A tremor went through his body and Harry turned horridly around, instinct urging him to run. He tried to open the door, but it was completely stuck. Panicking he used all his power to try to force it open, but it didn't even make a sound. He whipped out his wand trying different incarnations to open it with force. Nothing worked; he was stuck in the house of a man he was supposed to kill. He was clever enough to understand that he had underestimated the minister. He had been tricked.
Turning around slowly, he began to walk deeper into the house, in search of a backdoor of some kind. As he walked he tried to call out for Baldwin. "Baldwin…" The man knew Harry was there, so there was no need to hide anymore. It was not as though he could kill Harry, so he really had nothing to worry about.
Harry heard bare feet brush silently over wooden planks and he whipped around, ready to take on whatever met him. A red light struck him, and the world dove into darkness.
Harry awoke sluggishly, blinking in the darkness. He could not see anything at all, and judging by the feeling of cotton in front of his eyes; he was blindfolded and bound to a chair.
He sighed; this had to be the most embarrassed thing that had ever happened to him. He was supposed to kill the man, not walk right into his trap. He was way to impulsive when he became worried about important things. He blamed Baldwin.
Hearing footsteps, Harry licked his lips nervously. Soon the smell of a particular kind of snake filled the room, and Harry knew it was the minister.
After minutes of silence, Harry began to get irritated. Was the man not going to say anything?
"I'm so sorry for intruding, but I though no one was home," Harry said smiling. Better to play dumb.
"Clearly." Was the short reply. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, it seemed like the minister's voice differed slightly. At the speech it had been old, but smooth and kind. Now it was a hoarse, almost chilly voice that greeted him.
"You're the minister, right?" He asked curiously.
Harry sensed the man sit down opposite to him before the man replied. "What makes you so sure of that?"
"You smell," Harry blurted out.
"Excuse me?" Riddle answered. Harry had decided that the man had to be the minister, his smell was unmistakeable.
"You smell like a snake." Harry explained. "Ah- I'm not insulting you! It's actually a good thing to smell like a snake!"
Hearing a sigh and footsteps coming towards his position in the chair, he swallowed. It reminded him too much of his creation.
Hands took a firm grip on his hair, pulling painfully at his hair as the man whispered into his ear. "Why are you here, vampire? I've made a deal with your kin, surely they will be angry that you're going against our deal."
Grunting in pain from having his hair dragged out of his skull, he answered. "What deal? Wait, aren't you the minister? I thought wizards keeps away from vampires!?."
"Which coven are you a part of?" Tom ignored his question.
"Coven? I'm not a part of any coven."
"A stray… so, who has asked you to follow me?" The man demanded and pulled harder on Harry's hair.
Trying and failing to shake his head in denial, he replied. "Eh - what're you talking about? I haven't been following you…" Harry was unsure if it was smart to play stupid with the man, but he tried.
"Who do you take me for?" He hissed in reply and painfully let go of Harry's hair.
"A 62 year old man." He said as he heard the man walk away from him.
"Why have you been following me?"
"Not telling." He said arrogantly - he had promised Fudge not to give his name and as long as the minister did not give him more money than Fudge then he kept his mouth shut.
"You do have a lot of interesting instruments in your suitcase, how about we try them out." The minister said, and Harry began to get worried. While death was not an option, pain was. Harry was not a fan of torture, and judging by the man's voice he had nothing against it.
"Let's not…"
"Oh, but I insist. This gun is very nice indeed; let's try it out, shall we?" He said, and Harry shook his head. It was never comfortable to be shot.
Harry heard the man load the gun, and he began sweating. He was not kidding.
Tom walked closer to him again. "Are you still having difficulties remembering the name of the person who hired you?"
"Can't remember… maybe no one hired me." He mutter.
"I am sure you're hired, I do have my sources after all. I just want a name."
Harry shook his head.
"Very well, your loss." It was the response he got as the man shot him in his right thigh. "Ughuuahhh!" Harry screamed and leaned back, gritting his teeth in pain.
Harry breathed harshly, trying to keep his mind off the horrible pain. He shook his head, refusing to answer the man.
"Stubborn, well then - how about we try this scissor here?" Tom said sweetly. Cold sweating and knowing which scissor the man was talking about he swallowed harshly. There were so many things the man could do with a scissor - many Harry did not want to think about. Was he ready to be tortured, just to keep the chubby man safe? Really, he wasn't.
As Tom took hold of his hand, holding his fingers out he knew he had to do something. He only had to feel the cold metal of the scissor on his middle finger before he yelled out. "Wait!"
The scissor halted, but was not removed. Harry swallowed. "How about we make a deal?"
Tom sighed. "Maybe you have not noticed, but you are in no position to ask for deals, vampire."
Shaking his head he muttered. "It's not really a deal I just want to ask you something…"
The scissor was removed, and his hand freed. "Very well, but I cannot promise I will answer your question."
"All right - have you seen a male python?"
"A python?"
"Yes."
"Maybe - now answer my question." Tom said, and Harry gritted his teeth in frustration. He had to find Baldwin.
"Fudge, Cornelius Fudge." Harry replied, before adding. "Seriously, have you seen it? The snake?"
No answer was given, and Harry began to get nervous again. He had gotten what he asked for, surely he would not torture Harry just for fun?
Once again the sound of a gun being loaded, and Harry knew the man had no intention of letting him walk away alive. He tried to move, get out of the bound chair. As he moved his blindfold fell off, and Harry's eyes widened.
The man had to be the most beautiful creature Harry had seen in his entire life. He had a chalk-white face, snake-like slits for nostrils and long, thin hands. The man was also tall and had incredibly white skin. Harry knew most people would find the man horrifying, but to Harry he looked so much like the animal he loved that it made him a creature of grandeur. And the best part - he had no hair, no hair at all on his pale skin.
Swallowing he stared hypnotised at the man, who held the gun in his long hands. Harry wondered longingly if the man did not sweat since he looked so much like a snake.
Though before he could look any longer, the gun was fired and the bullet went straight into his head, once again introducing him to darkness.
"Should I remove the corpse, my lord?" Was the first thing Harry heard when he came to again. It was always like this when he died, waking up was like awaking from a deep sleep. Sluggish and tired.
He was somewhat aware that he was laying on the floor, no longer bound or blindfolded, which was no surprise since he was supposed to be dead.
Harry didn't know why he never died when people killed him, normal vampires could easily be killed. Apart from not staying dead and be able to use magic, Harry was just like every other vampire he knew. He was an undead, so he drank blood to get his body to function and got sunburnt incredibly easily.
He opened his eyes carefully, not wishing to be noticed. It was always easy to look dead after awaking from a killing. He was in great need of blood, his body felt slow and sluggish as it did when he had not drank in days. Luckily he did not go into a bloodlust at once, it usually took about a week before he lost his mind completely and began to search for blood like some bloodthirsty animal.
"Let it be. It is Nagini's dinner..." Harry forced himself not to shock in horror - it seemed like the man planned to feed him to something. Imagination running wild he wondered what sort of animal it was. A dragon, a bear or maybe even a lion!?
"Of course, my Lord," was the immediate and polite response as the man left the room. Harry wondered why the supposedly 62-year-old minister looked like he did and why he was called 'my lord'.
Harry swallowed, wondering how he could get out of the situation.
"Nagini, I have dinner for you." Harry wanted to hit his head against the floor, of course the animal that was going to eat him was a snake - the man was the heir of Slytherin.
Hearing sound of a huge snake slithering against the floor Harry racked his brain for a way out of the room. As it came closer he knew he to move. He could not die but that did not mean he wanted to get killed again and by snake poison. He rolled around on his stomach and yelled. "Stop!" Silence racked the room. Harry noticed that they were in a huge office, where the beautiful hairless man was sitting shocked behind a desk. He glanced over to the snake that was a disturbingly close to him, looking ready to attack. "Seriously, I don't taste good." He said to the snake.
Harry tried to stand up, but his legs failed him and he fell back to the floor, hitting his chin painfully against the floor. "Fuck…" He mumbled, once again trying and failing to stand.
After one more try, he gave up.
Laying like a dead fish on the floor he glanced up at the man, who had moved from his desk to stand in front of Harry. He muttered something to the snake and it slithered away, out the door. Harry breathed out in relief.
Tom stared curiously at him and Harry returned the stare. "You're not dead. How curious." Was all the man said, and Harry wanted to kiss him. It had been ages since he had seen anyone that remotely aroused him, so he could not help but want the man. Though he knew it was somewhat stupid to have such thoughts when the man had killed him earlier. It was incredible he had not blurted out his thoughts yet.
"Yeah, it's curious, isn't it?" Harry answered cheekily.
"I thought you were a vampire, boy." He said and Harry stared irritatingly at the man. "Don't call me 'boy', I'm much older than you!" He snapped.
"Is that so. If so, you certainly do not act your age."
"I believe it's healthy to keep my youth." Harry replied.
Tom bowed down, forcing Harry's mouth open with his thin fingers. Harry, who was secretly loving his fingers, let him. He dragged them over Harry's elongated fangs before muttering. "You're a vampire, so why did you not die?"
Harry felt the fingers leave his mouth and licked his lips before answering. "I don't know."
"You, 'don't know'?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Oh, and guess what!? I can use magic too!" Harry said excitedly, wanting to give the man more reasons not to forget him.
Riddle's eyes sparkled. "Really… You don't know the reason as to why you have kept your magic either, do you?" He asked after a moment.
"Nope."
Sighing he stood up and walked up to his desk, sitting down in the huge chair behind it. "Very well. Now, explain why you are a parselmouth." He said dangerously, daring Harry to lie.
Not seeing any reason to lie, he blurted it out. "Ah - my mother was a Gaunt."
His eyes widened. "A Gaunt? Who?"
"Cassiopeia Gaunt."
"Cassiopeia… Gaunt. Tell me why I've never heard of her?" He stood up from his chair, staring holes in Harry, who was still lying at the floor.
"I'm sure you haven't. She died in 1876 and she was not from the main branch, she married a Potter, you see. I'm pretty sure the Gaunt line wanted to forget her after that." He added knowingly.
"You are a Potter? I should have guessed." He said in expansion.
"Hey! What does that mean? And if I remember correctly, my brother's son married a woman from the main brach, so technically, I'm a part of it... oh, wait, not really, I can't remember. Wait, why am I telling you this?"
"You talk too much, Potter."
"Harry." He corrected.
"What?" Riddle asked in irritation.
"Call me Harry, I don't like to be called Potter - it makes me feel old." The only answer he got was a sigh.
"So - what should I call you? I've been calling you Riddle in my mind, but I've imagined your disgusting, hairy, human getup. So I wondered if I should call you Riddle when you look like this too?" Harry babbled and the man raised an eyebrow when he talked about his human form.
"Do not call me Riddle." He added after a minute and Harry nodded.
"What should I call you then? My lord? Like the man earlier called you?" Harry asked playfully.
"If you wish." He replied dryly.
"Really, seriously? What should I call you?" Harry pressed, and the man massaged his temples in irritation.
"Voldemort."
"Woah - really? Flight of death?" He asked. As the man gave him a harsh glare he added. "Alright."
Voldemort, as the man wanted to be called, glanced down at some papers on his desk, completely ignoring Harry. Harry sighed before deciding that he did not want to be at the floor any longer. It was uncomfortable, and even though it seemed clean he didn't know when it had been washed. He used his hands to try to pick himself up, though after a few attempts, he sighed in defeat.
"Please be silent," Voldemort muttered irritatingly.
"Well, I'm sorry, but as you can see I actually have a reason for being noisy!" He answered in frustration. Voldemort looked up from his papers, glaring. "You are very lucky I cannot kill you."
"I think I'm very lucky that I can't die… though I can't do much more than a corpse after I've died."
Voldemort nodded, he had clearly understood that Harry could not move. "Good, you know too much."
"What does that mean?" Harry asked.
"It means - you know about the connection between the minister and Voldemort, I cannot let you go." He answered, glancing back to his papers. Harry sighed. He had expected as much, though what would the man do with him? He could not kill him, so did he want to keep Harry like a pet? As his mind circled the themes of pets and animals, he remembered Baldwin.
"Ummm…."
"What?" Voldemort snapped.
"You know the snake I asked about earlier?"
"Before I shot you? Yes, I remember."
"Well, you see I sent him to spy on you. He's the reason I came here in the first place… He's name's Baldwin." Harry asked hopefully, if Voldemort did not know then he had no idea where the snake may be.
"I think one of my servants caught a snake some days ago."
Harry brightened. "A huge snake? A python? I think that's him! Could you bring him here?"
"No."
"Eh - why?" He whined.
"He is your pet, I will not risk anything by letting you meet him." Voldemort replied strictly.
"You're really mean."
"I am a Dark Lord, I believe most people would call me 'mean'." The man muttered, uninterested.
"What? You're a Dark Lord?!" Harry said, shocked.
Voldemort looked down in surprised at Harry. "You did not know?"
"No, Fudge only wanted to remove the minister so he could get the position for the next election." Harry replied.
Sighing, he murmured quietly. "I should have known."
"So, about my snake. I re-" He began, hoping to persuade the stubborn man, but he was cut of by a short. "No."
Harry laid his head down at the cold floor. If he wanted to do anything by himself he had to get some blood. Though judging by the man's idea to keep him here, he would probably not get it anytime soon - if ever. What better way to hold an immortal vampire captured than to keep food from it so it couldn't move a muscle.
He glanced up at the man in defeat. He may as well get used to being close to the man. From what Harry had seen so far of him, he had concluded that the man indeed had a snake-ish feel to his skin, it almost felt like a snake when the man stuffed his fingers in Harry's mouth earlier. No hair, clearly, and hopefully no sweat. The perfect blood-bank.
An ideal man in Harry's eyes. All snake-looking, lovely.
Just to be sure that he had not understood the man wrongly he asked. "Will you ever let me go?"
Voldemort stared back at him, his red eyes surprisingly beautiful. He tapped his pen against the desk, before answering.
"To let an exotic creature such as yourself escape?" He whispered and Harry nodded. He grinned madly before adding. "Never."
To be continued!
