Author's Note: I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again.

"What did you just say?" Tonks asked through gritted teeth.

"I said what you just felt was the creation of our Soul Bond," Voldemort replied, lying though his teeth.

"Vito Potter we do not have a Soul Bond, and if you say we do one more time I'm going to hurt you," Tonks said in a now-clear voice. It was amazing how quickly a person can sober-up if you placed them under enough stress.

"Listen Dora, I know that you are a few years older than I am, but that doesn't matter. The Soul Bond we have been given is a rare and precious gift."

"No Vito, what I have been given is a one-way trip to Azkaban if anyone overhears this conversation."

Voldemort gently took Tonks' hands and wrapped his own around them. "We have been joined together by the power of Magic itself. That is something no mere wizard or witch can rent asunder." To emphasize his point he cast another wandless Gräfenberg Hex through her hands.

"Will you please stop doing that!" Tonks yelled once she got a hold of herself.

"I am sorry, but I have no control over this," Voldemort said, lying yet again.

"Fine, this is what we are going to do: you will never touch me again," Tonks told him. "Is that clear? Never again."

"That simply isn't a practical solution," Voldemort said. He managed to keep a straight face as he got down on one knee. "Instead, I think we should get married. Nymphadora Tonks, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Much to Voldemort's disappointment there was no wedding that night, so things returned to normal the next day. It was Sunday morning, which meant that Justin's snowy white owl Bianca made her weekly delivery to the A-Level Club while they were eating breakfast.

Justin's father Sebastian Finch-Fletchley had hired several professional tutors to help organized their curriculum. On Sunday they received their weekly assignments from the tutors, and the Club met three times a week to work on them. On Fridays they mailed their finished assignments back to London. It was a lot to expect from kids their age, but they made it work because the Potter brothers were natural leaders and because Granger was a natural slave-driver when it came to schoolwork.

"Hello Bianca, would you like some fresh bacon?" Harry asked. The white owl seemed to like Harry even more than her master Justin did, which was really saying something.

"Harry, give me the letters," Granger said with her usual amount of tack. Voldemort shot her a nasty glare, and the witch quickly added a "please". A great deal of his time was spent tying to filing away the girl's more obnoxious mannerisms, but she was too valuable to simply kill. However there were times when he was sorely tempted.

"We have so much schoolwork to do already. Why does your Club volunteer to do more?" Hannah asked.

"Hannah Abbott! We are Hufflepuffs, and a true Hufflepuff can never have too much work to do," Harry replied.

"Oh Neville, you will be interested in this. We have to write an essay on the plants of the Highlands, so maybe you could give us some tips on what we should be looking for," Granger said in an excited voice.

But then Granger always excited when they got their weekly assignments. To be fair, Voldemort had to admit that the tutors Sebastian hired were all top-notched. The lesson plans they designed were well thought out, and interesting even for average students like Harry and Justin. Already several of the other muggleborns had expressed an interest in joining the Club. After seeing the reality of Hogwarts many were looking for ways to keep their educational options opened.

Speaking of the unpleasant aspects of life at Hogwarts: "I can't believe that Dumbledore allows this stupid Muggle Club to exist, it's a disgrace. Wait until my father hears about this," sneered Draco Malfoy. The little ponce had made his way over to the Hufflepuff table when he saw Justin's distinctive white owl arrive.

"Shut up Malfoy. The last time you got into an argument with Harry you wet your pants, so go back to the filthy snakes where you belong," Susan told him. As the niece of Amelia Bones she was the one of the few Hufflepuff who didn't care about making an enemy of the Malfoy family, since Lucius already wanted the Bones family dead.

"You know Draco, when you are writing your father you should ask for an extra set of undergarments in case you have another accident," Daphne Greengrass said—much to the amusement of her two companions Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. "The house-elves can only do so much with urine stains."

The dark-haired witch was a fascinating case-study for Voldemort. He knew from her sorting that she should have been in Slytherin, yet she had ended-up in Gryffindor instead. Greengrass had certainly landed on her feet; Brown and Patil were already under her complete control. The three of them were the prettiest and best-dressed of the first-years girls, and they dominated the weaker Gryffindor males.

Weasley, Thomas, Finnigan, Smith, and Macmillan were a sorry lot. Of the entire group only Dean Thomas any brains, but he was only interested in art and football. It had taken Greengrass just a few short weeks to establish herself as undisputed leader of the Gryffindor first-years.

That is what Draco was tying—and failing to do—by attacking the A-Level Club. He had to show his housemates that he was the equal of Harry Potter if he wanted any real power in Slytherin. The wanker wouldn't have lasted long back in Tom Riddle's day. In his youth Voldemort had fought battles on a daily basis during his first year, and he had only managed to survive because of his skill at wandless magic. There had been dozens of trips to the infirmary, but that all ended in his second year when he revealed the fact that he was a Parseltongue. Voldemort doubt if Lucius' son had any such hidden talents.

"Do you know who you are talking to Greengrass?" Draco asked, making a pitiful attempt at intimidation.

"Of course she does you stupid tosspot," the youngest Weasley replied as the five Gryffindor boys surrounded Malfoy. The male lions weren't very powerful, but there were five of them. It seemed as if the new lioness had a pride at her command.

"Hey, what is going on here?" Marcus Flint asked.

Voldemort knew the older Slytherins' type well. He was a mindless thug, and probably on Lucius' payroll as one of his heir's secret bodyguards; it was a practice many of the wealthier purebloods followed. Magical children were rare, and they had to be protected. Especially at a madhouse like Hogwarts.

"Malfoy was just about to apologize for insulting Miss Greengrass," Ernie Macmillan told the large Slytherin. "He was being very rude."

Voldemort smiled. That pompous git Macmillan was going to start a brawl right in the middle of the Great Hall with his big mouth. Harry saw the signs as well, but unlike his brother he wanted to avoid a fight if possible. So he reached over for Granger's bowl of oatmeal, and dumped it all over Draco's head.

"Food Fight!"

Normally the other students would have just ignored the call to arms, but this was the Boy-Who-Lived. That made all the difference, so the Weasley twins started things off by casting an Engorgio on a banana, and sent it flying towards the Slytherin table. The Great Hall was instantly turned into a culinary battlefield. Some students tried casting Shield Charms, but that only enraged the others. Those using their wands quickly found themselves under attack from behind, and learned how hard is was to cast a three-hundred and sixty degree Shield. The Professors finally stepped-in and attempted to restore order, but that turned out to be a mistake on their parts.

"Everyone aim for the High Table!" Harry shouted as he sent a lemon-filled pastry flying straight at Dumbledore's head. "Aim for the High Table!"

As Voldemort slowly regained consciousness he began cursing himself for trusting that damn werewolf. Lupin had casually asked him to stop by his office for a chat, and he should have realized it was a trap when the Professor hadn't explicitly included Harry in the invitation. Then his eyes began to focus, and he realized that he was tied to a chair. This was the Shrieking Shack, and that was definitely Sirius Black with a wand in his hand. A beaten and unconscious Peter Pettigrew was laying on the floor. None of this was good.

"The little bastard is finally awake," Black snarled. "Who are you?"

Lupin grabbed his old friend by the arm, and gave the escaped prisoner him a hard yank. "Padfoot, calm down! I agreed to let you talk to Vito because you were right about Peter, but that is all we are going to do. Talk."

"Professor Lupin, why am I tied-up, and why are you listening to the man who betrayed my father?" Voldemort asked in his best eleven year-old voice. He only had three Horcruxes left, and he didn't want to risk being killed. Again.

"James Potter was not your father," Black said."Now tell me who you are? Are you here to kill Harry? Answer me! Crucio!"

"Stop!" Lupin shouted.

It had been a long time since Voldemort had felt the power of an Unforgivable Curse, and in an odd way he found it reassuring. "He insane! You are a Professor, and you brought me here to be tortured and killed by a maniac!"

Voldemort's only real hope was to divide the two men, and get them fighting each other instead of him. It worked: Lupin threw Black to the ground, and confiscated his wand. After a decade in Azkaban, Black was no match for the werewolf—even in his weaker human form.

"I can't believe you cast an Unforgivable Curse," Lupin said. "I told you that I stole some Veritaserum from Snape. We can get our answers without torturing a child. Do you understand me Padfoot?"

"Fine," Black spat. "Give the little imposter three drops so we can be done with him."

Veritaserum. That was the first bit of good news Voldemort heard since he regained consciousness. "You have Veritaserum? Professor, I will be happy to take some if you keep that monster away from me. I don't want to die."

He said all this with a whimper in his voice and tears in his eyes. Lupin seem to buy his act, even if Black did not. The werewolf took a glass vial out of his robes, and poured three small drops on Voldemort's out-stretched tongue.

"What is your name?" Lupin asked after the Potion had taken affect.

"Vito Bianchini originally, but now my name is Vito Potter." It was a relatively simply matter to defeat the magical truth serum. Simply, if you were a master Occlumens.

"Who are your parents?"

"Gina Bianchini and James Potter." While that statement wasn't true biologically, it was true legally. So he didn't even have to lie.

"How can you be sure?" Lupin asked.

"It was confirmed by the British Ministry of Magic." Voldemort answered. "They have blood records that can't be altered."

"Do you want to hurt Harry Potter?"

"No." That statement was also true. Voldemort had no plans to kill his brother until he was absolutely sure that Harry's unknown Power was. The research might take years, or even decades.

"Are you taking orders from any Death Eaters?"

"No." As if a Dark Lord would take orders from his own servants.

"Do you know anything about the relationship between James Potter and your mother?"

"They must have done it at some point." This answer embarrassed both Lupin and Black. British wizards tended to be puritanical about sex, and hopefully that would stop them from asking anymore questions about the late Gina Bianchini.

"Padfoot this is ridiculous. Peter betrayed us, so why can't you accept the fact that James might have had an affair? He was just as human as the rest of us."

"Moony, I know that Prongs had his faults, but I also know that he took an Unbreakable Vow on his Wedding Day that he would never forsake Lily for another woman. I acted as their Bonder, and you know that there is no way to finesse an Unbreakable Vow."

Oh shite, Voldemort thought to himself.

Lupin turned to study Vito Potter. "It could be a Memory Charm, but why would someone go through all this trouble to provide Harry with a fake brother for five years?"

"It's not a memory charm," Black snarled. "The little bastard is lying. I'm sure of it."

"Padfoot, there is no way you can know for sure."

"Moony, no matter who did this, Vito is a threat to Harry. I'm not going to let him harm James' only son and heir."

"You are not suggesting that we kill him are you?" Lupin asked in a quiet voice.

"No," Black replied in an equally quiet voice. "First we have to learn who sent him to live with Harry, and who helped him create this false identity. Then we are are going to kill him."

At that moment Voldemort knew there was no reasoning with Black. He desperately wanted to question the Marauder about his brother Regulus, but not at the expense of his own life. Dying again was too much of an unknown risk. Luckily his backup had smelled his scent on the wind, and came to the Shrieking Shack to investigate.

"Ouroboros, slay them all," he hissed in Parseltongue.

The three remaining Marauders were never seen alive again.

"Vito, this is crazy," Harry said.

The two brothers were standing in a locked bathroom less ten minutes after Voldemort had returned to the castle. He was still furious with himself for falling into the Professor Lupin's trap, and he knew that if Ouroboros hadn't been out hunting tonight he would probably be dead by now.

"Harry, I have been reading through the books we found in your Vault, and I am telling you that this Locket was stolen from the Potter Family by some other purebloods. The house-elf will only return Locket to you if it rightfully belongs to our family."

This convoluted lie was the best he could come up with on such short notice. Voldemort was taking a gamble by involving Harry in the hunt for one of his missing Horcruxes, but with Professor Lupin now dead he had to move quickly. There was no telling what the werewolf had told Dumbledore before his meeting with Sirius Black, and it was possible that his Vito Potter identity would be discredited in a matter of hours. Perhaps it already was, but he had to take this one last chance.

"Are you sure this plan will work?"

"My plans always work, don't they?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, they always work. You are the most brilliant wizard in the world. You are even smarter than Hermione Granger and Albus Dumbledore put together."

"Just follow the script I wrote for you. Call the house-elf, and show the little bugger that drawing."

"Kreacher!" Harry shouted.

To Voldemort's amazement the Black house-elf did appear, but it looked nothing like the ones they found working in the kitchen near the Hufflepuff common room. This Kreacher looked... repellant. The crazy stories Bellatrix used to tell him about this house-elf must have been true.

"Kreacher is here. What does Young Master require?"

"Do you know where to find this?" Harry asked as he held up a drawing of a golden Locket with the letter S engraved on it.

The old elf's whole body began to shake violently. "How does you know about Master Regulus' Locket?"

The script Voldemort wrote was very clear on what Harry was supposed to say next. Confidence was the key to dealing with these little monsters. "Do not question me house-elf. Bring the Locket to Hogwarts at once."

As soon as the last word left Harry's mouth the house-elf disappeared, and he returned only a few seconds later. "Here is Master Regulus' Locket. Will Young Master destroy it?"

Harry ignored the question and continued to follow the script. "You will never speak of this again. Not to anyone. Now return home."

After Kreacher left Harry began to study the ornate Locket. "I like it the green gems. You say this belonged to Solomon Potter? It feels kind of strange to me."

Voldemort was too stunned to say anything. He had suspected that Sirius Black had named Harry as his heir, a fact which gave him control over the Black house-elves. He also believed that Regulus had destroyed the Locket before his death, and that clearly wasn't the case. He now had one of his three remaining Horcruxes.

"To be safe I should really check the Locket for any curses, but I'll give it back to you in the morning."

"Thanks Vito, you are the best," Harry said as he left to get ready for bed.

There was no time for any ingenious plans, so Voldemort just went to his own bed and closed the curtains. He then cast a Privacy Ward, and placed the Locket right on his bare chest. It was going to be a long and painful night.