It's on Wednesday that a terrifying raven swans into the Great Hall and drops off a letter as she flies past, the paper landing with a graceful slide and impeccable aim on the table between James and Harry.

It's already too late but James snatches it off the table and tries to stuff it into his robes.

A third year Gryffindor leans over from where he sits next to Remus on the other side of the table, eyebrow raised. "What's that you're trying to hide, Potter?"

"Your mum's floo address," James retorts instinctively.

Sirius chokes on his water and cracks up because he just really wasn't expecting that. Harry smiles into his toast and Remus turns away to clear this throat. Unfortunately this also attracts more attention from the students sitting around them.

The Gryffindor sits up straighter because a problem with being brave is you don't know when to shut up for your own good. "It's from the Dark Lord, isn't it?"

"Is your sister gonna be home too?" James continues with a smirk.

"My sister is nine, you asshole."

James makes a high-pitched, strangled sound in the back of his throat because he knows he shouldn't but Merlin it's such a good set up. "They grow up fast these days, huh?"

Several people start booing James jokingly but he's too busy sniggering to reply. That wasn't even his fault, he was practically baited into it!

The third year Gryffindor scowls. "When you disappear every month, is that also for the Dark Lord?"

Remus' eyes dart from James to Sirius. Harry half leans forward. James laughs to stall, tries to think.

"You mean the orgies?" Sirius deadpans.

All the eavesdroppers crack up, rippling out to the Hufflepuff and further on to Ravenclaw. James and Harry are sitting with their back to the main part of the room but Sirius grins over their shoulders at the crowd and suddenly this becomes a performance.

It can't be anything else, not when the third year clearly isn't going to drop it. That's fine, they've gotten enough suspicious questions over the years that this settles into the three of them like an old joke.

"Those centaurs really know to party!" James cheers and gets cries of horror. Harry is sliding himself under the table because he really doesn't do well with attention and this is so much worse.

Remus shakes his head sadly. "I'll never look at a unicorn's horn the same way."

"Okay!" McGonagall yells above the shrieking laughter. "Thank you, I think we can stop now."

Sirius cackles and just gets louder. "I haven't figured out how to fuck an acromantula yet but mama didn't raise no quitter!"

James is crying at that, he's half hysterical as he folds over his plate, accidentally putting an elbow on the edge of Harry's plate and almost upending the whole thing as the Great Hall just descends into chaos.

The third year is glowering, trying to nudge his laughing friends. What a joke, thinking he can take on the likes of the Marauders.

James and Harry wait outside the Hogwarts wards that afternoon because the letter says Voldemort expects them to have the next two days free. They technically don't have permission from the school but James' parents did get a letter to warn them so that's something at least.

Harry is worried it's about the diary – he's blanking out sometimes, a few minutes only but he knows because he keeps track of time religiously when writing in the diary.

Exactly on time, Voldemort appears just outside the wards and holds out a portkey, because the last time he tried to side-along Harry he nearly got thrown up on. Voldemort still eyes Harry warily because this younger Dark Lord is kind of petty.

Instead of just letting them wander off, Voldemort leads them to a large sitting room in warm rusted tones and with high, large windows to let in the sunlight. He points to a desk and chair combo with ink and a quill already set up. "Write."

"Is it almost done?" James asks. "Does it come out like origami or like spit balls?"

"James," Harry begins.

"It's a valid question-"

"James," Voldemort states and that's very final.

James rolls his eyes.

Harry takes a seat and James flops over an armchair closest to Harry's table. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, Voldemort also takes a seat further off and picks up a book left on a small round side table.

Harry opens the diary and it's already waiting, a sentence bleeding into the paper.

[knock knock Harry]

"Is it always that creepy?" James asks with a grimace. Darts a glance to Voldemort. "I mean, charming and intelligent. What a fantastic diary, must belong to a great man."

"He's doing it on purpose," Harry mutters and picks up a quill, continuing to write the acromantula story about James because he only writes about James (and Tom is getting real sick of it).

Half an hour goes by and a large snake enters with a fancy looking letter in its mouth and hands it to Voldemort.

"He knows how to play fetch?" James asks excitedly.

"She," Harry and Voldemort both correct at the same time.

James rolls his eyes. "She. Who is this one – Julianne? Rosemary? Florene?"

"I have no snakes by any of those names," Voldemort rejects. "Her name is Nagini."

"Nagi baby," James coos, clambering off his seat and sliding over to sit by the snake.

Harry half rises out of his chair. "Uh, James."

Nagini hisses and James hisses back, trying to copy her. Nagini finds this hilarious and James is literally the only person in this room who doesn't understand why.

"Do you know Greek?" Voldemort asks James, refolding the letter.

"I'm fluent," James admits, looking up because he's actually sitting at Voldemort's feet to harass the snake. "That and French, German too, Latin of course. All the languages of the powerful wizarding countries."

Harry puts his head down and scribbles madly in the diary, who's mocking him for being such a disappointing Heir - well fuck you too Tom what have you done for the Gaunts.

"Good, then you'll play translator when I meet a liaison from Greece tomorrow," Voldemort announces.

"There are translation potions-"

"I'm fluent," Voldemort corrects, staring down at James. "You're supposed to be cute and trying to help me out of the goodness of your own heart."

"My heart always has room for you," James says and gets slid back across the floor to his armchair by Voldemort's magic. "Too much?"

.

A/N: Brace for Tom lmao cuz you know he won't take well to his antithesis – a well-loved pureblood who doesn't need to strain himself to be charming and friendly.