TASK #2: Do a good deed for Harry.

TASK #6: Introduce yourself to someone new.

"This is not a safehouse, you wretch," I wheezed. I was doubled over after having thrown up on Walburga's atrocious troll's foot doorstop. Apparition was different when you were trapped in a frail Muggle body. "This is Grimmauld Place. This is not safe."

Nothing about this house suggested safety. The elf heads mounted on the wall were warning enough that its inhabitants were absolutely insane, or else would be soon driven there via the natural process of osmosis.

"You won't be staying here permanently," Potter said, "so don't worry about it." He shed his cloak and handed it off to an old, wrinkly elf. I wondered, idly, if the elf qualified as a senior citizen and could be persuaded to cross the street.

"Elf," I said to the wrinkled creature. "What is your name?"

"Filthy Muggle is speaking to Kreacher," muttered the elf. They glared at me with their creepy little elf eyes, then stomped off to put the cloak away.

"I am Lord Voldemort," I called after them. There. Task completed.

Potter shot me a strange look. "I just need to gather some things. Then we'll be moving you to Australia. I'm hoping that no one will recognize you there."

"Australia?" I repeated. "Why would I move to Australia?"

"Because no one will recognize you there," Potter repeated in a flat voice. "I'm doing you a favour." Then he spun about and began walking towards the kitchen.

But what about my tasks? What about Martha? And Helen? "I do not wish to move to Australia," I said as I followed him.

Potter took a deep breath and turned around to look at me. "Listen. This is for your own good. If you stay here in Britain, someone is going to try and kill you. I know you don't have magic anymore, and I know Death did something to prevent you from murdering people which is the only reason why I'm helping you. You are going to move to Australia and live the rest of your life there where you can't hurt anyone."

I folded my arms across my chest. "Lord Voldemort will not move to Australia," I said. "You will find a way for me to continue living my life here in Britain or else." Or else what, I had not yet decided. If Potter asked for clarification, I would then come up with an idea.

Potter's brows pulled together. Why was he always so confused? Had no one ever taught him how to think for himself? I have always said that education at Hogwarts took a turn for the worse when Dumbledore became Headmaster.

"Why do you want to stay here?" Potter asked.

"My house is here," I said. "My things are here."

"I'll get you new things," Potter said. "And a new house."

"I prefer the ones that are mine."

Potter's confusion had multiplied, if the number of wrinkles on his forehead was anything to go by. "They're going to kill you! You can't stay here."

I wracked my brain for a proper threat. It was difficult to make threats when I had no magic and was bound by Death to behave. "You will find a way to make this happen or I will tell everyone that you tried to save me."

"I don't understand," Potter said after a moment.

"You are still young," I told him sympathetically. "There is time for you to grow more intelligent."

Potter made a frustrated noise, then walked over to a dining chair and collapsed into it. "You want to stay here in Britain?"

"Yes." And I would not accept any other answer.

Potter pinched the bridge of his nose. "What if I move your house to Australia? Would that be alright?"

"No. I wish to stay here."

"What is this?" Potter asked, voice reeking with desperation. "Why won't you leave?"

"Contrary to what you seem to believe," I said, "not everyone wishes to move to Australia."

Potter slumped back in his chair. "There has to be something. What can I do to convince you to move there?"

It was a generous, open-ended offer. I would have been a fool not to exploit it. "Convince Death to give me back my original life."

"Yeah, not happening." Potter shook his head. "Anything else?"

I thought about it. "Martha and Helen must move with me."

"Martha?" Potter repeated owlishly. "And who is Helen?"

"Helen is a Death Eater in training," I informed him. "When she is of age, she will replace Bellatrix."

"Of age? How old is she?"

"She is six."

"Oh my god." Potter dropped his head to the dinner table with a satisfying thud. "I'm going to go to Azkaban for this and I won't be able to explain anything. They're going to call me a child predator."

Success! Potter was willing to help. I smiled. I was not worried about Azkaban. If we were caught and tried, I would feign ignorance. They could not prove that I was Lord Voldemort, and so long as Potter's moral compass remained intact, he would not expose me. "Don't be crude, Potter. The only child I have ever grievously harmed was you."

Potter shot me a suspicious look. "What about Cedric?"

This death I did remember. "Wormtail killed him."

Potter jabbed his finger at me. "But you told him to do it."

"The law would not hold me accountable," I said easily. Just like they would not hold 'Keith' accountable should they locate and arrest him for Lord Voldemort's crimes. Magical Britain's law system was woefully wrought with inconsistencies and loopholes. I would use those to ensure my freedom.

"I need to think about this," Potter said. He sounded exhausted. "We'll… just have to spend the night here."

That might prove troublesome. I had three tasks left to complete. "If I agreed to stay the night here," I said carefully, "would you consider that as a favour?"

"What?"

"Would my consent to remain here in this ridiculous excuse for a house be considered a favour extended to you on my part?"

"Yes? I guess so?"

Excellent. Two tasks left to go. "Then I agree."

TASK #4: Use 'thank you' and 'you're welcome'.

Potter and I took lunch in the dingy dining room. His ancient House-Elf presented us with the food it had made. I thanked the elf and was rewarded with more disparaging remarks about my blood and lack of heritage.

"So," Potter said as he dragged his spoon through his bowl, which was full of onion soup. "Why are you on EI?"

I did not know what EI was. "It is none of your business."

"I suppose you haven't had a proper job since you graduated Hogwarts," Potter said, as if I hadn't spoken.

This conversation was annoying. "Being a Dark Lord is a full-time occupation," I said. "I am above requiring a 'proper' job."

Potter did not respond to my excellent point. Instead, he swallowed more of his soup and alternated between staring at his bowl and staring at me.

After a few minutes of silence, Potter spoke again. "Why do you want to take Martha and a little girl with you to Australia?"

I reminded myself that Potter did not know of my predicament. I could not allow him to uncover my weakness. "They are an integral part of my plans."

"Your plans for what?"

"My plans, which are none of your business."

Potter narrowed his eyes. "I won't help you if you don't tell me why you want them. You expect me to help you kidnap an old woman and a six-year-old girl for no reason?"

Yes, I did.

"Yes, I do," I said.

"Well, I'm not going to do it." Potter drained the rest of his soup, dropped his spoon into the bowl, and stood up. "I don't trust you, even if you don't have any magic. We're not kidnapping anyone, and I don't care if you tell people I'm helping you or not!" Potter shot me a final irritated look before he strode out of the dining room. As he walked off, I heard him mutter, "Everyone thought I was insane for wanting to, anyway."

I drank the rest of my soup by myself. If I had been at home, I might have gone to see if the Porters needed my help. Or I might have gone to Martha's for tea. Or I might have gone out for groceries and begun a new argument with the shop manager.

Though I had never considered myself a creature of habit, I found that I missed the habits I had been forced to form. Was this Death's way of changing me? Forcing my mind to grow used to kindness and complacency? The mere idea was horrifying. I could not succumb to such ploys.

If Potter would not assist me with kidnapping, then there was no reason for me to stay here. I would return home and await my fate like a man, surrounded by the people whose company I had been coerced into accepting.

I set my soup bowl and spoon aside, then called out the name of Potter's elf.

"Kreacher?"

No elf appeared. Was this because I lacked magic? I found that difficult to believe. Elves were known for their attentiveness. Even an elf as old as Potter's could not ignore a waiting guest.

"Kreacher," I repeated. "I would like to inform you that I will be departing shortly."

The elf appeared in the doorway with a resounding CRACK. They swayed to and fro, an ugly grin marring their face. "Scum of the Earth Muggle is leaving? Oh, happy day... blessed day... Kreacher does not want to serve the nasty Muggle man, no..."

"Yes," I snapped, "I am leaving."

"Thank you," the elf croaked, "thank the dirty Muggle for no longer sullying the halls of my mistress with his filth and muck..."

I grimaced. I knew what I had to say and I did not want to say it. "You... are... welcome." The words tasted like sewage in my mouth. If there was a way to kill Death, I would find it. I would find it and I would do it. And then I would use their death to create the ultimate Horcrux of planet Earth, and then I would never die.

The elf sneered at me, their rows of rotted teeth assaulting my eyes with their awfulness. "Good bye, foul Muggle." They made a shooing motion with their hands.

I vowed to myself that Lord Voldemort would someday return and obliterate this elf for their unbelievable insolence. Thus empowered, I strode out of the dining room, through the entrance hall, and out the door. Once on the pavement outside the house, I set off in search of a cab to take me home.

TASK #5: Stop and tie your shoelaces.

The cab ride was long and boring. I hated taking the cab. It was slower than Apparition and the interior of the vehicle always smelled strange. Life was easier when I did not have to pay minions for their subpar services.

I finally arrived at my home on Plumtree Road, paid and tipped the cabbie, then exited the vehicle.

To find Harry Potter standing in my driveway.

"What do you think you're doing?" Potter asked angrily.

That stupid elf must have told on me. "What do you think you are doing?" I threw back at him. "This is my property."

"You can't stay here," Potter said, marching up to me and reaching for my arm. I leapt backward, unwilling to let him any closer than I had to. "You're exposed out here," Potter continued, swiping at me again. "People will see you!"

"Then let them," I responded as I dodged his wandering hands. I would either murder them all or let them murder me. I had yet to decide which one I wanted.

There was a list of acceptable people who could potentially murder me. To die by any other hand or wand would be a blemish upon my honour and my legacy. Imagine admitting that some nameless nobody had caught you unawares. After all the second-hand embarrassment had ended, your impressive feats of villainy would be long forgotten.

Lord Voldemort would not suffer such a fate. Lord Voldemort would live forever.

"Don't be stupid," Potter said. "This is serious." He attempted to grab me a third time, and I had to wonder why he simply did not use magic instead. Being Dumbledore's little hero apprentice certainly had its drawbacks in the form of severe mental deficiency.

"I am perfectly serious," I said as I side-stepped another kidnapping attempt. Oh. Hmm. That was a good point. This was a kidnapping attempt. Potter was attempting to kidnap me. "Why is it fair for you to kidnap me against my will," I asked, "but not for us to kidnap Martha and Helen?"

Potter gaped. I hope he did not expect me to close his mouth for him. "That's not—that's not the same thing! No one wants to kill them. People want to kill you!" Potter scrunched his face up. "This is for your own good."

"Good bye," I said, echoing the rude tone that his elf had used. I stepped around him and headed for the front door of my house.

"Wait," Potter said. He hurried to catch up with me, but kept an oddly respectable distance as I unlocked the door. "You really can't stay here."

"You keep saying this," I said calmly as I pushed my way inside. "But no one has come for me. I am starting to believe you've made this up for attention."

"For attention?" Potter spluttered with indignance. "Whose attention could I possibly be trying to get?"

"Mine, of course."

Potter followed me into my house. I would have offered him tea if he was not so annoying. "If you are so concerned about my well-being," I told him, "you can stay here. This is much safer than that rat hovel you call a house." And I had my favourite biscuits here, not that Potter would be getting any.

"If you stay here," Potter said slowly, "there is a very high chance that your neighbours will be in danger. These people who are looking for you, a lot of them don't care about Muggles. If a house gets blown up or someone gets hurt, the Ministry will just wipe their memories and leave the Muggles to pick up the pieces."

That got my attention. I did not like that. This was the neighbourhood I lived in, with the people I had carefully chosen to aid me in completing my assigned tasks. If a bunch of bumbling wizards came knocking about and ruining everything, I would be forced to take drastic action.

So Potter may have had a point. A point I highly disliked, but a point nonetheless. However, I could not tell him that I agreed with his point without weakening my position.

"They are Muggles," I said.

Potter seemed to be waiting for me to say more, but that was the beauty of my response. It did not require more.

Then my phone rang. "I must answer this," I said, turning away. I picked up the phone and held it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Karl? Is that you? I saw you and that young man standing in your driveway. Is he your girlfriend?"

"No," I said, "he is not."

"Are you coming over for our walk?"

"We already had our walk today, Martha."

"I don't remember that," she said after a moment.

"Of course you don't," I told her patiently. "You would forget your legs if they weren't attached to your gradually shrivelling body."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Potter shoot me an offended look. Didn't he know it was rude to eavesdrop? I scowled at him to let him know the visual input of his face was not welcome.

"I think you should get a girlfriend," Martha said.

"Good bye," I said. "And do not open the door for strangers. They may try to erase your memories." I paused. "Nevermind," I amended. "Go ahead and open the door for everyone." Maybe she would forget about the girlfriend bit.

I hung up the phone. Potter was still glaring at me.

"What?" I demanded. "Did your dead parents never teach you not to listen in on other people's private conversations?"

Potter's wand snapped into his hand. He aimed it directly at my throat. "Say that again," he said dangerously. "I dare you."

Potter no longer frightened me. There was nothing he could do that would harm Lord Voldemort. "I am going to put the kettle on," I said. Then I walked away.

My kitchen was blissfully Potter-free. I put the kettle on and browsed through my cupboards for something to eat. The elf's soup had tasted off. I would not be surprised if the ugly creature had attempted to poison me.

I selected a package of crisps from the topmost cupboard and opened it up. The fragrant scent of salt and vinegar wafted to my nostrils. This was a crisps moment, so I would eat crisps.

I popped a crisp into my mouth. The taste was salty, as promised, with a hint of vinegar.

Then Potter came into the kitchen, thoroughly ruining my good moment.

He stopped dead in the doorway to stare at me. "You're eating crisps," he said in a disoriented sort of way. He was very talented at stating the obvious.

"Yes," I said. "Well done."

Potter scowled at me. I put another crisp in my mouth and resumed eating.

"Is this what you do now?" he asked, taking a step closer. "Make tea and eat crisps? Carry old ladies across the street and convert children into Death Eaters?"

"And what are you doing that is so brave and noble?" I asked sardonically. "Kidnapping Dark Lords to protect them from imaginary enemies?"

"I'm an Auror," Potter said. He puffed his chest out a bit. All it did was make him look stupid.

"That is the worst job you could have chosen," I told him. "You would have done better somewhere else."

Potter's face twisted with offense. I set my package of crisps on the counter and bent over to tie my shoes. I did not want to forget and be forced to do it before bed. It was terribly inconvenient to put shoes on, tie them, then untie them again so I could take them off and change into my pyjamas.

"I've done great as an Auror," Potter said. "I've caught loads of dark wizards!"

"No one cares," I said. My brow furrowed as I picked at the knot on my left shoe. "You defeated Lord Voldemort. Anything you achieve after that no longer matters. If you succeed, it is expected of you. If you fail, they will think lesser of you." The knot at last came loose. I formed two rabbit ears and tied them together.

"That's not true," Potter argued.

I lifted my head so I could raise a mocking eyebrow at him. "Isn't it?"

What epic act of heroism could possibly compare to defeating me? It was laughable. No such act existed. I was the most interesting part of Harry Potter's life and I always would be.

"I wanted to be an Auror! I wanted to since my fifth year."

I adjusted the position of my feet and began to pick at the knot on my other shoe. "And why did you wish to become an Auror?"

Potter's cheeks had gone pink. "Because of—because—because of you!"

Silence followed his proclamation. It had taken Potter a depressing amount of time to come to the conclusion that I had known all along, but not everyone could see things as clearly as I.

"Then you have your answer," I said as I finished with the knot on my right foot. "And that answer is that I am correct."

I straightened to find that Potter still appeared to be at a loss for words. His wand was nowhere in sight and his face was more confused than ever.

"Do you..." Potter swallowed, his eyes flickering guiltily from place to place all around the room before they settled on me. "Do you not know how to tie shoelaces?"

Next to me, the kettle came to a boil and started shrieking.

TASK #2: Do an actual good deed for Harry.

I made Potter a cup of tea. He did need it for the shock. The last thing I wanted was for him to pass out in my kitchen.

We sat in the sitting room so I could sip my tea and eat my crisps at the same time. Potter kept crossing and uncrossing his legs like a nervous schoolgirl.

"I am not going to murder you," I said, just in case Death had not informed him of that fact.

Potter's eyes jumped to me. "I know that," he said quickly.

"Then stop acting like you do not," I advised him.

Potter fell silent again. Somehow, silent Potter was equally as annoying as talkative Potter.

"Why are you so insistent on saving me?" I asked to fill the dead air.

Potter watched me with his befuddled, owlish expression. "Why do you care?"

"It is my life," I said pointedly.

"I..." Potter trailed off. He picked up his cup of tea and sipped from it to occupy himself. "I tried to save you. Before. Do you remember? I asked you about remorse. I asked you to try and feel remorse."

I did remember that. I remember he had called me Tom.

"Do you?" Potter said out of nowhere, his gaze snapping to me with sudden intensity. "Do you regret what you did?"

Did I regret it? If I had the choice to relive my life, to right the mistakes of my past, would I choose the same path?

I did not like all these questions. I did not want to answer them. "I have to tie my shoes again," I said, placing my teacup on its saucer and setting it down on the side table.

As I bent over to undo my previous hard work, the sound of glass shattering reached my ears. My instincts took over; I rolled out of my seat and onto the floor, reaching for a wand that I no longer had.

A bolt of spell fire sailed over my head, slamming into the chair where I had been sitting only seconds ago.

"Shit," Potter cried. He dropped to the floor by my side and cast a powerful Protego to cover us. "We have to go," he said urgently. "We have to go now!"

A second spell rammed against his shield, showering us in sparks. I remembered what Potter had said about Obliviating the Muggles.

"No," I said. "No, I have a plan."

"What plan?" Potter asked despairingly. "You don't even have magic!"

I did not need magic. I had what most other wizards did not. I had a brain.

Potter attempted to stop me as I pulled to my feet, but he could not drop the Protego shield and I was too far away for him to physically halt my escape. I broke free of the shimmering bubble and ran for the door.

TASK #6: Introduce yourself to someone new.

"Help!" I cried as I ran out into my driveway. "Help me! Help!" I waved my arms around the way children did when they were trying to run faster.

The dozen wizards in the middle of the street stopped their spellcasting and turned their wands to me.

"Help!" I repeated. "You have to help me! There is a monster in my house calling himself Lord Voldemort." I did my best to look frightened, to act as I imagined someone would act when they were frightened of me. It was difficult. I had no idea what being afraid was supposed to feel like from an internal perspective. My experience of fear was limited to the visuals expressed by others, and it was difficult to mimic that when I could not see my reflection.

One of the wizards frowned. "Who are you?"

I came to a breathless halt and braced my hands on my knees. Muggles were weak and tired easily, I reminded myself. They could not speak and be frightened at the same time.

"Help," I said again. "Help me!" A realistic portrayal was pivotal. To succeed, I had to pretend to be stupid and useless, which meant this was the most difficult thing I had ever done aside from making Horcruxes.

"Who are you?" the wizard repeated, sounding irritated.

"My name," I said, "is Keith Adams."

Once again, their wands were in my face. It was very uncalled for.

"There is a monster in my house!" I pointed at the house in case they had forgotten which one it was. "He is frankly quite terrifying and I think someone should do something about him!"

The wizards exchanged a glance. "I think this one's just a Muggle now," said one. "If You-Know-Who is in that house..."

From inside the house, a spell shot up and into the sky. It was the Dark Mark. I was admittedly impressed that Potter had thought to cast my spell as a distraction, and that he had managed to cast it at all.

"There," pointed one of the wizards. "That's his Mark! Let's get him!"

Several wizards took off toward the house, leaving me behind.

"But what about this one?" one asked.

"The Obliviators'll handle it, come on!"

I watched the rest vanish into the house. I listened to the flash-bang noises of spells tossed about my living room. My house would be in ruins for the foreseeable future. I sighed and checked my watch. The day was not yet over and I had no more tasks to complete.

What to do? I had not even gotten to finish my bag of crisps.

Potter owed me a house, a cup of tea, and a bag of crisps. I would come back to collect once the wizards were gone. With this in mind, I set off for Martha's house. She typically had a decent supply of tea and biscuits in her pantry, and she would not remember if I was the one who consumed it all.

A/N:

martha: you finally got a girlfriend!
voldemort:
martha: i know he's a man but i am happy for you