DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, who isn't me. The only profit I get from this is personal satisfaction.
If You Can't Beat 'Em
LORD VOLDEMORT, the Greatest Wizard to Ever Live, did not enjoy being little more than a ghost. It was theoretically better than being an actual ghost, but He was about as useless as one.
He existed in the place where Ravenclaw's diadem had been hidden for so long. The very ground was permeated with magic—whether through the diadem's power or due to the Grey Lady and Bloody Baron dying here, the Dark Lord neither knew nor cared. What mattered was that it had just enough magic to sustain His consciousness. Leaving the forest without a magical source to piggyback on would be next to impossible. He was just so weak.
Nearly a decade, it had been, since He made the miscalculation that sent Him to this wretched state. Ten years and none of His so-called loyal followers had sought Him out. Surely not all of them had gone to Azkaban. The Ministry was too corrupt for it not to be so. That only meant that He had been forsaken, that all His Horcruxes had been for naught. He never should have made them in the first place. Death would be preferable to this powerless existence, this utter abandonment...
He became aware of a sound. Someone walking. Human footsteps walking. It had happened on occasion, but it was probably some filthy muggle wandering the woods as filthy muggles were wont to do. It never was...
"My lord."
The Dark Lord focused on the voice and it amazed Him that He recognized it. "Severus..."
"I apologize for the delay. I convinced Dumbledore that I am a 'changed man' and he made me his Potions Master, though on a short leash. I told him I required Sabbatical and Dumbledore decided to allow it this year, before that Potter boy started Hogwarts and I can 'help protect him,'" he spat. "My loyalty to you, though, has never wavered."
"Are there others?"
"It is possible, my lord," Severus said, "but I think they are either imprisoned in Azkaban or by watchful eyes as I was. I assumed that another would be able to come for you long ago. But many of the free, I believe, enjoy being powerful in your absence and they would only return because of fear, not loyalty."
"As I suspected."
"What is your will for me, my lord?" Severus asked.
That request had an answer LORD VOLDEMORT had longed to say for years. "Bring me the Philosopher's Stone."
"I apologize, my lord, but it has been destroyed. Dumbledore took me into confidence and informed me of Flamel's decision after a failed theft attempt not too long ago."
That was unfortunate. Very unfortunate. The Stone would have been His strongest avenue back to life. But there were other ways...
Severus helped Voldemort prepare to make a new body. If the former Death Eater had not already become desensitized to the Dark Arts, he would have vomited regularly. In the second week of Severus' assistance, Voldemort had found a snake and named her Nagini. Severus wasn't sure if this was a coincidence or not, but he would be sure to watch the snake carefully in the future.
That particular night, after Severus milked the snake and administered the potion he was still tweaking to increase Voldemort's strength, Severus heard the Dark Lord whisper his name.
"Yes, my lord?" Severus asked.
"Find me a unicorn," Voldemort whispered. "I will drink its blood elixir, as the Stone is no longer available."
Severus perfected his control over his body's reactions and said, "I shall do my best, my lord. But do I dare leave your presence for the time required to find one?"
"I have Nagini," Voldemort replied. "Go, my faithful servant."
Severus nodded and went out in search of a unicorn, though he had no idea how to go about it or even what to do if he did find one.
After about half an hour of hiking through the woods, Oliver finally made his appearance.
"Sorry I'm late, but Mad-Eye was...well, moody, and I didn't want to send any messages that might get noticed," Oliver said. "So what have you been up to?"
Severus explained what the Dark Lord had just requested of him.
"Well, Quirrell and Wormtail both got Voldemort what he wanted in the future," Oliver said, "but you'll probably need some assistance in getting a unicorn to cooperate. You can be evil, but we don't want to maim your soul in the process. So, we just need to ask a unicorn very nicely to donate a little blood to the cause of sending a stray soul fragment on."
"And how do you propose you do that?" Severus asked.
"Simple," Oliver replied. "I just have to read my mind without controlling myself and go into a coma—I'll be so helpless, no unicorn could resist me."
There were some days that Severus wished he could just leave Oliver in St. Mungo's and never have to deal with him again. This was one of them.
George had sent Snape away—if he was going to find a unicorn, he'd have to go about it alone. George sent the young Weasley twins a message on the Saintlike Parchment warning them that he'd soon be taking possession of Young George again for an indeterminate length of time and went looking for signs of unicorn presence.
He found a long hair stuck to a tree branch, and a couple more several meters away. George followed the trail as far as he could and then laid down on the forest floor and cast Legilimens on himself. He then took a swig of pumpkin juice and went to the Burrow. Fortunately he and Fred were alone so they could speak freely.
"Morning, Fred," George said with a tip of an imaginary hat. "Since we aren't at school, what would you say about taking a crash course in professional pranking?"
"Does that question even deserve an answer?" Fred asked
"Yes," George said. "While teaching you Occlumency, I had set time restrictions. Now I have no idea how long I've got, but it might be a while, so I'm going to be a worse taskmaster than Snape. Are you ready for absolutely nothing but the art of pranking?"
Fred smiled wickedly. "Bring it on."
Fred was starting to regret letting Old George possess himself. Three days of nothing but Old George teaching him all of the techniques and products he'd developed over thirty years, all the while pulling pranks on him and probing Fred's Occlumency barriers whenever Old George thought he was slacking off...it was exhausting. He couldn't even sleep without worrying that something was going to happen to him. He was just glad that Old George hadn't tried anything like this when Fred didn't trust him, or he probably would have gone insane.
The one good thing (well, it wasn't really the only good thing, but it was Fred's favorite part) about Old George's Pransker Crash Course was that the overarching prank that was being pulled on the family. The first day, Old George made Fred forge a note from the ghoul in the attic that said it wanted some pajamas and wouldn't stop harassing everyone until it got some. Everyone was absolutely convinced that the twins were up to something at first, but when things started happening that should have been beyond their two years of education, like when the garden turned into a swamp or the house flooded and everyone inside was transfigured into mermaids, they started to wonder.
Mum had just pulled out a pair of Dad's old pajamas and was carrying them up to the attic when Old George suddenly turned to Fred and said, "I think I see a unicorn. G'bye, Fred."
"Liar," Fred accused. Old George had done something similar the first day, and Fred still didn't know how that ended up with him on the roof in just his underwear.
"Not this time," Old George said. "Get Young George up to speed. Or don't, if you want to mess with him a bit."
Fred smiled at the thought and took a chug of pumpkin juice. Apparently Old George had swapped it with some rancid stuff and he spat it out, but he had still swallowed enough of it to work and his George was back.
"So? What did I miss?" George asked.
"There, ghoul! I gave you some pajamas!" Mum yelled loud enough to be heard in the twins' room. "Now stop wreaking havoc on my house!"
"Oh, you know. Nothing special."
George felt the touch of a unicorn on his face. He forced himself to continue breathing like someone in a coma and, when the unicorn did not react, he opened his eyes all the way. The unicorn was only a baby, the color of gold and a stub of a horn coming out of its head.
"Hello there," he whispered. The unicorn tensed and started to flee. "Sh, it's alright. I don't want to hurt you. I need your help."
The baby unicorn stopped backing away, but it did not come closer either.
George continued to speak quietly, letting a bit of desperation squeak out of his throat. "There is a man, a very broken man who has hurt his soul without realizing how horrible an idea it was. He is little more than a ghost and he will be trapped in this world until he can return to a body and die as a simple human being. He will kill one or more of your kind to get himself out of his wretched state, but it will not be necessary if you allow me to draw a small portion of your blood. Will you help me help bring balance to the world without such horrid bloodshed?"
The unicorn stood still a long moment, then fled. George sighed. It was worth a try. He sent his Patronus to Dumbledore explaining the failure and went to find Snape.
After about half an hour stomping through the forest without finding his old Potions Master, George finally noticed shining silvery-white through the trees by the shadow of a man. Why did Snape summon his Patronus? George wondered as he got closer. Then he saw the horn and realized what he thought was a doe was actually a full-grown unicorn. Snape used a syringe to extract the blood without so much as noticing George. George saw the golden unicorn hiding behind a tree watching.
"Thank you," he whispered. The baby bowed in reply.
Just as Snape finished, the adult and infant unicorns ran off into the forest together, gone as fast as they had arrived.
"So, they trusted you and not me?" George asked as he went up to Snape.
"You lack something, apparently, that the unicorn recognizes," Snape replied.
"What? Purity of heart? Loneliness? Because you were without Lily not nearly as long as I was without Fred. Besides, I'm the Saintlike One, for Merlin's sake!"
"She likely trusts my hands to draw her blood without injury coming to herself more than she trusts you," Snape suggested.
"That's...actually not a bad idea," George conceded. "Do you need anything else for Mr. Chief Death Eater?"
"I haven't seen the Dark Lord since he sent me on the unicorn hunt," Snape said. "And I was doing just fine before then."
"Well, if you ever need me, I'll be northwest of Camp Voldy," George said.
Snape grunted in reply. Well, it was better than sneering, at least.
Severus brought the unicorn blood to Voldemort and began brewing a potion for the Dark Lord. He milked Nagini for her venom and she almost bit him in the process. He wondered what was making the snake wary of him, but decided to not comment and just focused on making the potion as it needed to be.
"Did you have difficulty with the task assigned you?" Voldemort asked after Severus administered the potion to him.
"Some," Severus said, "but I overcame it. Unfortunately the unicorn blood yield was not as great as I anticipated, so we must be judicious with it until I acquire more."
"Nagini says you smell of another wizard," Voldemort noted.
Severus cursed mentally, but he was not a master Occlumens for nothing. "I did have an encounter," he allowed.
"Do you think the wizard will be helpful to our cause or a hindrance?"
"I cannot say with certainty, but I think he may be persuaded to serve you," Severus said. Oliver always wanted to help, and now he can just do so more than he expected. "Shall I search for him, my Lord?"
"Yes. And take Nagini with you."
Severus didn't like that much either, but he knew better than to protest. "Yes, my lord."
George probably should have been setting up an Extendable Ear so he could listen in on all of the conversations between Voldemort and Snape, but he wanted to make sure the unicorn was okay—unicorn blood donation was completely unheard of and if they suffered any ill effects, George wanted to know so that he would be able to prevent it happening in the future. Of course, he probably wouldn't be able to find any unicorn ever again, but he wanted to put forth the effort at least. If they saw him, maybe they would understand.
There was rustling on the ground behind him. Snape. George was about to give him a greeting regarding how he was a little busy at the moment, but the former Death Eater had a death glare and pointed his wand directly at George.
"What did—"
Snape cut him off. "If you value your life you will be silent and come with me."
George nodded and the two went through the woods, Snape never lowering his wand. They were headed towards Voldemort's base camp.
What is Snape trying to do? He knows that I have no intention of meeting Voldemort. If I ever wanted to meet him, it'd be when Harry defeats him again.
They stopped at the camp and Snape forced George to his knees in front of Lord Voldemort.
"My lord, this is the wizard I found prowling through the forest today," Snape said.
George felt something brush against his leg. He looked down to see Nagini slither past him and to Voldemort. She saw me with Snape, George realized. Or smelled me. Either way, Snape probably had no choice but to bring me here. And now I have to convince Voldemort to spare my life. Great.
"Do you know who I am?" Voldemort asked George.
"You're the Dark Lord," George said with a mixture of conviction and fear. He had no idea what he was going to do to get out of this, but that reaction seemed neutral enough to build on. "They said you were dead. I guess they were wrong."
"Yes, I am well aware of that," Voldemort snapped. "What I don't know is who you are and why you are in these woods."
"I'm James Oliver. I..." George scrambled his brain for something to say.
"Do not try the Dark Lord's patience," Snape warned.
"Something happened to my mind," George blurted out. "I've lost a lot of memories and have others that I know I shouldn't have. It's not natural. I think..." And a flash of inspiration struck. "I think the Ministry did this to me: played with my head. And I want to make them suffer for it."
Voldemort's wraithish form had something like a smile cross it. "I think we can help one another. Given your...condition, you may not recall it, but I was once quite feared by the Ministry."
"I remember very little of those years," George admitted truthfully—technically, he remembered hardly anything at all about the years Voldemort was talking about, "but I definitely remember the fear of you. I had hoped you survived somehow and that you could bring the Ministry down, so I started searching for you. And I brought you a gift," George said as he searched his pocket and pulled out the yew wand.
"I normally find the offering of gifts pathetic, but I will make an exception in this case," Voldemort said. "How did you come by my wand?"
George shrugged. "I took it off of someone else who died before I could make him tell me where he got it from. I don't know who he was, but I think he was a hermit or outcast of some sort."
"And how did you know to bring it to me here?" Voldemort asked.
"I don't know," George lied. "Whatever is in my head now has very good instincts sometimes. I think the Ministry may have tried to turn me into an artificial seer, but it backfired. It is currently taking me a lot of willpower just to remain sane. More or less."
"And what does the Ministry think of you now?" Snape asked.
"The ones who think they're in control acquitted me just a little while ago," George explained. "Long story. But the ones who know what I am are keeping quiet and probably think that I just needed time to become their weapon or tool or whatever they want from me. They're attempting to show patience and I want to stuff that pretense down their slimy little throats. The worst part is I don't know who exactly those people are, so I intend to dismantle the Ministry piece by piece until there's no doubt they've had their compensation for murdering my mind alive."
"And how would Albus Dumbledore fit in all of this?" Voldemort asked.
"He could be in on it, for all I know," George replied. "Regardless of whether he does or not, I don't think that he sees me as a threat—more a curiosity than anything, I'd bet."
Voldemort's cruel smile only grew. "Mr. Oliver, are you willing to accept me as your master?"
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! "Yes."
"Then we have much to discuss."
Fortunately, George was at least able to talk himself out of getting the Death Mark by calling it a tactical disadvantage—at least until Voldemort was revived, anyway. James Oliver's supposed loyalty to Voldemort, however, still needed to be established and Snape suggested an Unbreakable Vow.
"Is it even possible to make one of those to a wraith?" George asked.
"I supposed we will find out," Snape replied.
George extended his hand and Voldemort's form latched onto it. Snape pulled out his wand. "Will you, wizard who has seen fit to call yourself 'James Oliver,' assist the Dark Lord in whatever it takes for him to attain a complete body?"
"I will," George said. A flame emerged from Snape's wand and encircled his arm and where Voldemort attached to him.
"And will you, once the Dark Lord returns to that body, do everything within your power to enable him to successfully cast the Killing Curse on the Boy-Who-Lived?"
"I will." Another flame, though this one seemed slightly thinner than the last one. George supposed that it was because his and Snape's definition of success was different than Voldemort's.
"And will you never take up your wand against the Dark Lord?" Snape asked.
That vow had the possibility of being problematic, but George swore, "I will."
"Excellent," Voldemort said, once the binding was complete. "Now, if things are as they should be, there is a vacancy at Hogwarts."
"The Defence position?" George asked. "Isn't it jinxed?"
"Yes. I am the one who made it so," Voldemort said proudly. "Apply for the position, so as to give yourself an excuse to return to Hogwarts."
"Isn't Severus a better candidate for your spy?" George asked. "I mean, he's already Dumbledore's Potions Master."
"Dumbledore is not the fool many believe him to be," Voldemort said. "He will watch Severus as closely as he always has. You, however, will only be expected to be there a year, which is usually too little a time to accomplish anything of import."
"Wouldn't it be easier to regain employment at the Hog's Head?" George asked. "It is near enough to Hogwarts, I should think."
"Do you honestly think Aberforth will ever trust you again?" Snape asked. "He's not exactly one to forget a grudge."
"Fair point," George conceded. I suppose if anyone would know about Aberforth's grudges, it'd be Snape. "I will do as the Dark Lord commands."
"I have more for you to do," Voldemort said. "You are to become the vessel by which I escape this forest and return to Hogwarts."
George's blood ran cold. "What do you mean by that?"
"I cannot leave without attaching myself to a magical source. Our minds and souls will become linked and I can hide myself under Dumbledore's nose. It is imperative that I kill Harry Potter as soon as my body is restored, and that process will be faster if I use you."
He's making me Quirrell? This is very, very bad. "Are you sure that you want your mind linked with mine, given its chaotic state?" George asked.
"If you have the will to suppress it, it should be no great challenge for me," Voldemort replied. "You are being offered a great honor, so I suggest you accept it."
"Allow me to attempt to prepare myself for your arrival," George said finally. "I respect your abilities, but I would not dare ask you to do more work than you have to."
"Very well."
George sat down, closed his eyes, and took a swig of pumpkin juice from his hip flask, careful to not let it touch his enchanted tooth until he was in a position he would not move from, even when he went into a coma. He moved the juice to the back of his mouth and swallowed.
George barely registered being at the Burrow when he ran for the fireplace, only slowing to grab some Floo powder.
"Hogwarts Headmaster's office!" he cried. He entered Dumbledore's office and summoned the Sorting Hat.
Fred came through the fireplace behind him. "Old George, what's wrong?"
"I'm about to become Quirrell!" George replied as the Sorting Hat came into his hands. "Make sure everyone who knows about the time travel knows I might become compromised in the worst possible way. No one can contact the Saintlike One in any way until Voldemort is gone for good. If Snape says I'm dead, go into hiding immediately. I love you, Fred."
He gave his twin one last hug, then placed the Sorting Hat on his head.
Hat, I need to have as many irrelevant memories placed into my head as you can spare. Voldemort thinks I'm an artificial seer, and that's what I need to be right now.
"I have never done such a thing," the Sorting Hat said, "but I see that your need is great. I apologize for what you are likely to go through because of me. Schizophrenia is not a pleasant thing."
Images and sounds and sensations all became shoved into George's consciousness. He fell to the floor in agony, but did not remove the hat.
"Headmaster, what is he doing?" he barely heard Fred ask as the series of memories began to accelerate. Dumbledore said something to Fred, but George couldn't process it anymore than he could process the Sorting Hat's centuries of knowledge. If he wasn't insane before, he would be now.
"It is done," the hat said finally. "Now return to your body before you contaminate the mind of your younger self."
"Fr-Fred," George stuttered, "pumpkin juice."
Fred complied.
George didn't allow himself to let on to Voldemort that he had just gone through an ordeal. Occlumency was truly becoming George's best friend, as it was likely to continue to be during the coming months. George tried to organize his mind, as he told Voldemort he would, but the task was impossible to accomplish. Finally, he said, "I don't think I can do much more of this. I apologize, my lord."
Voldemort's response was to attach himself to the back of George's head. George choked as his body instinctively tried to repel the horrible foreign soul fragment, but he held on. He was going to become a Horcrux if it was the last thing he did.
"A Horcrux?" Voldemort asked as he read the thought slip through George's mind. "How do you know about that magic?"
"I-I have a lot of memories in my head," George replied as he tried to get a grip on himself. "There's probably some oth-other stuff in there too. It comes out in very odd ways..."
"You are a fascinating conundrum, James Oliver. As long as you keep your mind in check, we may accomplish much together."
"This is really, really painful," George said, "so I'm going to do my best to not think while you decide what to do."
"Draft a letter to Dumbledore first," Voldemort ordered. "You must be the one to take the Defence position."
George winced, but nodded. "As you wish, my lord."