Disclaimer: All character and the Universe of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I just write this for the enjoyment.

A/N: Wow! 200 followers on this story! Thank you so much! I'm sorry for the long break - life has gotten much more hectic and then whenever I sat down to write I had Writers Block. But, got there in the end and now you get a new chapter!

A/N #2: Whoops - totally got the spells wrong. Thanks to those who pointed it out!

As always, Fav, follow and review!

Chapter 5 – Lessons & Plots

Harry could honestly say that he was enjoying being at Privet Drive for the holidays. Of course, it only took a lot of threatening and minor application of pain to stop his Uncle from exacting his revenge, or for his cousin to beat him up.

Now, he was again relaxing on his new bed, reading through his school books as well as the book that Voldemort had given him. Before Hermione had left, they had discussed the previous school year, and she had expressed her disappointment in Harry that he hadn't tried better, especially since he had been more studious at primary school. Harry had come back with that with everything they had thought had been going on, as well as being around Ron, he had done well enough. Hermione had sniffed and pointed out that not only had she been on all the adventures as well, but that she had managed to do well on her studies.

He looked up when he heard a tapping at the window, spotting an owl with a letter in its beak. He waved his wand and opened the window, where the bird glided onto the table. He relieved it of its letter and gave it an owl treat. He looked down at the envelope and spotted the Hogwarts crest. He opened it and pulled the letter out.

Dear Mr Potter,

Enclosed in this letter are your grades for Year 1. These grades are split between practical and theory, depending on the subject. Grades are assigned and scaled similarly to those given in OWL's (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) and NEWT's (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests).

The grades that can be awarded are as follows:

Pass Grades

"O" - Outstanding

"E" – Exceeds Expectations

"A" - Acceptable

Fail Grades

"P" - Poor

"D" - Dreadful

"T" – Troll

Listed below are your grades for Year 1:

Astronomy

Theory – "A"

Practical – "A"

Charms

Theory – "A"

Practical – "E"

Defence Against the Dark Arts

Theory – "O"

Practical – "O"

Herbology

Practical – "A"

History of Magic

Theory – "P"

Potions

Theory – "P"

Practical – "A"

Transfiguration

Theory – "A"

Practical – "A"

These grades will give you an indication as to how you are progressing through the course. Your grades affect your ability to select certain electives in Third year.

You should receive your school list for Second year within two weeks.

Regards,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Harry sighed. His grades, while he had passed, were not good enough, and he knew that Hermione would tear him a new one when she saw them. He also knew that Voldemort would be disappointed, but most likely wouldn't actually say anything out loud.

That being said, didn't this work perfectly? If people didn't think that Harry was super smart, or that he was changing, then someone might get suspicious. Plus, it would allow him to fly under the radar, and wouldn't draw attention to the fact that he was getting more powerful.

He reached over and grabbed the new book that covered the inner workings of the Ministry. Voldemort had pointed out that it was highly important to get an understanding of how the Ministry worked, how the departments worked and where it fit in the world, to give them the knowledge on how to take it over.

Harry was astonished at how similar yet how different the Ministry was compared to the Muggle government. The general layout was the same – the laws were written and decided by the Wizengamot, who then pass that on to the Ministry to enforce. The Ministry was run by the Minister's office, who's sole job was to ensure that all departments were working to uphold the laws. While the Minister's office and the Department Heads had seats in the Wizengamot, they could not vote on any laws. If the Department Head was also a Head of House, then their seat was taken from them to prevent corruption, and the seat given to a proxy.

What surprised him, though, was how the Minister was appointed. In the muggle government, the Prime Minister was elected by being the leader of their political party, after their party gained enough seats in the House of Commons. In the Ministry, however, the Minister was voted in by an external group of people, whose identity was only known to the Department of Mysteries, and the only candidates for the role were the Department Heads of all the major departments except for the Head of the Department of Mysteries. When Harry had researched further, he had realised that was because the DOM was heavily involved in highly confidential and often dangerous research projects, and should their identities become known the risks of someone using them to get into the Department was too high. The Minister was elected for three-year terms, with no limit on how long their length of service.

A bit of further research showed Harry that Cornelius Fudge was currently the Minister, elected nine years after the event known as 'The Halloween'. He had risen fast within the department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes after being the one in charge of the team that had apprehended the 'Black Traitor', Sirius Black. While there was no reference to what Sirius Black had done, Harry knew that since he seemed to be involved in 'The Halloween', he would most likely be able to find him in recent history books or newspapers. Fudge was what Harry considered a peace time minister; one who could be easily pushed around for the right amount of gold and was like a reed in the wind. Bribery and corruption were rampant in his Ministry.

Harry now understood why Voldemort wanted them to get close to their peers. Many of the pure-blood and half-blood students had family members who worked in the Ministry or sat on the Wizengamot. The student that had the most important member in the Ministry was Susan Bones, as her Aunt, Amelia Bones, was the current head of the DMLE. Not only did she have control over all the Aurors but was responsible for many of the other sub-departments and held several other departments accountable. Getting close to her and gaining control over her would allow them almost unstoppable freedom to do anything they wanted.

Of course, Harry recognised that it wasn't going to be easy. She didn't rise to be the Head of the DMLE by being a pushover. He knew that it would take time for them to get close and gain her trust. The odds of her becoming the next Minister of Magic was high – most often or not it was the Head of the DMLE that was appointed due to their control over many of the other departments. It was only because of Barty Crouch's fall from grace at the same time that allowed for Fudge to be given the top job.

Hogsmeade House

Harry walked into the house, stopping to allow Apep to slither off to find Nagini and Nuwa. He moved to the kitchen, where he found Voldemort reading the newspaper while Hermione was reading a book. Voldemort's eyes drifted up to look at Harry when he entered.

"Ah, Harry you're here. I trust that the portkey worked then?" Voldemort asked as he folded the newspaper and placed it on the table.

"Yep. I had to leave the blood wards though, the portkey wouldn't activate while I was in them" Harry said, sitting down. Voldemort nodded. "As I expected. Dumbledore wouldn't want someone just portkeying into his weapons house – or leaving it. I assume just like Aeriel here that you received your grades from Hogwarts today?"

Harry grimaced. "Yes, I did. I did … ok."

A single eyebrow raised, and Harry felt himself getting more nervous. "I know it's not ideal, but I can make it work for us. Dumbledore wants me to be the martyr, the one who dies trying to defeat you, yes?" at Voldemort's nod, he continued. "So, if I suddenly come across as too smart, and too powerful, then that will mean Dumbledore might react badly. If I'm just an average student, one who's meek and easily trusting, then he will continue to play into your hands."

The longer the silence went, the worse Harry felt. Voldemort's gaze didn't shift, just gazing at him. Eventually he chuckled, and the tension in the room lifted. Harry released a breath that he wasn't even aware he was holding.

"You hold up better than most of my other Death Eaters and followers. They would have caved long ago. But I agree. I'm well aware of Snape's prejudice against you because of your father, so it doesn't surprise me that he failed you. Dumbledore won't allow you to fail or fall behind, and the only grades that matter are your OWLs and NEWTs, which I can have people in place to easily modify as needed."

Harry looked over at Hermione to see her give him a small grin.

"Now, you both have at least some of the book that I gave you, yes?" when they had both nodded, he continued. "What can you tell me about the types of magic?"

"The Ministry classifies magic as 'Light', 'Neutral' or 'Dark', depending on it's purpose." Hermione quickly recited. "Magics that they deem as destructive or deadly are considered dark."

"Exactly. And that is completely wrong. Magic has no such classification, only that which people have labelled it in their fear. Magic they don't understand, magic that is too powerful for the weak to control, magic they view as only destructive. The ones in power fear what those that can control these spells, and so they label them as dark so that these people become either afraid to perform magic or become enemies of the law."

"But what makes dark magic differ from light magic? Absolutely nothing. It is the purpose behind its use that people should be more afraid of. The cruciatus can be used to restart a heart. The Wingardium Leviosa can be used to float someone off a cliff. The organ liquification spell can be used to help replace damaged organs. A powerful enough stunner in the right spot can kill a person. Fiendfyre, if controlled right, could be used to clear out forests of dead material."

"So," Harry spoke up, "Because people just assume the worst of a spell, they automatically just label it as dark? That seems pointless."

"And you just summed up Magical society in Britain in a nutshell. If they don't understand it, ban it, and no one questions. That is just a small part of what I want to change."

Voldemort stood up and gestured for them to follow. Once outside, they saw the land had been flattened and there were training dummies set up down the end.

"If you so desire, you can come here to practise some magic. However, what I want to cover today with you is non-verbal and chains. It is important that you start to work on your fighting abilities. A good fighter has a large variety of spells that they can quickly fire off. An exceptional fighter has a chain of spells that they can quickly fire off that can work together to quickly take another down. But first, we need to start simple. What do you know about non-verbal and why we use it?"

Harry was stumped, having no idea. He looked over to see Hermione frowning. "It's where you cast a spell without verbalizing the incantation. It's meant to be more difficult than saying it."

"Essentially correct. Non-verbal is more difficult because it requires more focus, intent and visualisation of your desired outcome, as well as greater control over the magic you are releasing. When you cast Wingardium Leviosa, you are wanting to lift something into the air, yes?" They both nodded. "By verbalizing the incantation, you are ensuring that the magic you release is what you want – magic to lift an item. But, when you take that away, you are then relying on your minds ability to visualize what you want and your desire to lift that object – something that some people struggle with. Not only that but taking that away also means that you have to want the spell to work – verbalizing the spell is you stating what you want."

"So, saying the spell is you stating your intent?" Harry said, and Voldemort nodded. "And so, you have to want the spell to work when you say it non-verbal?"

"Correct. Non-verbal is not easy, which is why Hogwarts doesn't start to cover it until you're starting your NEWTs. However, for all this to work I need you to be able to non-verbalize spells sooner. Your alter-egos are going to be leading the distraction, keeping people away from our movements. Dumbledore will obviously be trying to find me and stop me, but with you two it will mean he will not be able to focus his full attention. Now, choose any spell you have learnt, and attempt it non-verbally."

Harry considered all the spells that they had done that year and decided that it would be easier to try it with Wingardium Leviosa first. He found a small rock and pointed his wand at it. 'Wingardium Leviosa' he thought and watched as the rock slowly wobbled up. Voldemort walked over. "Impressive. But, did you think the spell, or did you visualize the rock lifting?"

"I thought it." Harry said and Voldemort nodded. "Thinking the spell is actually verbal, and always produces weaker results. Not only that, but spells that you think the incantations in your head always are harder to control."

"Whys that?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know. No one does. That's one of the many things the Department of Mysteries investigates – the general behaviour of magic. And that is what I want you to try – I want you to visualize the magic happening, not think the incantation. Try again."

An hour passed, but neither Hermione nor Harry made any progress. If Voldemort was disappointed, he didn't show it. "That was good for a first attempt. I expect you both to practise this – non-verbal is challenging, but it means you can get the drop on your opponent if they are not expecting it."

"Now, chains. These, as I said, are spells you have combined together to take down your opponent. They are most common amongst those who are in the international duelling circuit, or those who are highly proficient at duelling in general. There is the risk of becoming predictable, so most will have a variety of chains. Observe."

Voldemort waved his wand and a dummy floated over. He lifted his wand, and with a flurry of his wrist sent out five spells.

The first, a violent purple, impacted the leg of the dummy, producing a loud snap. The second wrapped ropes around the dummy, while the third lifted it. The fourth flew past the dummy and impacted on the wall, producing large metal spikes, and the last sent the dummy flying backwards, impaling it on the spikes.

The whole display had taken less then two seconds.

They looked back to Voldemort. "What did you learn there?"

"the first spell would have made your opponent lose focus, allowing the others to occur."

Voldemort nodded. "Yes. Doing that early is crucial – the longer your opponent is focused or determined, the higher the chance of them combating your spells are. Of course, the general skill of your opponent needs to be considered. What I want you to do is to practice this. Choose several spells, and work on your aim, your speed and your focus. Get creative if needed."

The two spent the next hour, throwing spells one after the other until Voldemort deemed himself satisfied. "I understand its simple, and very few will be defeated by these chains you made today, but these can be used to build your speed, your efficiency and your skill. Once this is done, you can start to add spells to your chains, creating new ones as you go."

Training done, they re-entered the house, food appearing on the table as soon as they had sat down, ranging from simple vegetables to lean meats. Harry wondered if Voldemort created the food, had a charm that just brought food to the table, or if there was some other explanation for it.

"A house elf conjures it" Voldemort suddenly said, reaching and grabbing a cup of coffee. Harry started, before checking his shields. "No, your shields are fine for someone who has only just started. But you have the habit of projecting your thoughts too much."

They fell into comfortable silence as they ate, both Harry and Hermione weary after the training. Voldemort, however, looked like he had done absolutely nothing but sit at the table.

"Father" Hermione said. Voldemort raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, so she continued. "What were they all like? Your actual inner circle."

"Well, I'll start with your mother" Voldemort replied. "Fierce, powerful, intelligent and wild. Bellatrix was my enforcer, both as a Death Eater and for my actual purposes. She had an uncanny ability with magic – imagine an eager puppy. Her magic would not only do what it should but would almost do more, as if to please her. She never failed, and I never had to tell her how to go about her mission. Indeed, sometimes all I gave her was a name, and not only did she eliminate that person, but she would have destroyed their families, their homes, their allies and sometimes even their associates. Some of them were done so skilfully that people on both sides started to believe that I had an incredibly dangerous and skilled assassin on my side, who no one knew but I. Bellatrix loved that, knowing that no one believed it was her."

"Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, was not as powerful as Bellatrix. Where her skills were in fighting and inventive ways of casting magic, Lucius' was in politics, people. He knew people, was close to people, some they weren't even aware of how many of their skeletons in the closet he knew about. He knew everything there was worth knowing about people, especially those who were on the Wizengamot or in positions of power at the Ministry. If you needed blackmail, you needed to know the details of an upcoming bill, or those who would be best to oppose it, Lucius would have the info. He could cultivate allies and determine and destroy our enemies, often all legally and within the system."

"Your mother" and Voldemort turned to look at Harry "was nothing short of a potion and charms god. Her skills at brewing were unparalleled – indeed, she often could be found to be writing recipes and modifications to potions, often creating new ones. The potions that she had created were able to be done in shorter amounts of time, their effects more potent, and many more that became the bane of my enemies. There were times that her potions were enough to wipe out entire groups. Her abilities at Charms meant that she was an accomplished dueller, able to hold her own against many."

"And finally, your father. A transfiguration genius, however, his main skills were in tactics. Being on both sides, he knew exactly how people fought, and therefore knew who to pit them against. Seemingly random attacks, fights and ambushes were nothing more than choreographed skirmishes that he proposed to both sides. People when fighting or duelling often tend to have spell chains and attacks, and James knew what they were. He knew the people that they would easily hold their own, and those that would overwhelm them."

"Those four were my true inner circle. The Death Eaters who believed they were my inner circle were more my outer circle. They were the ones I could give relatively simple tasks to, or slightly complicated tasks, and usually not have to baby them through it. Most of their failures were due to factors they couldn't control."

"Anyway," Voldemort said "that will be all for today. Continue practising spells and chains and study the ritual on page 40 of the book I gave you. Practise your occlumency – I don't need Dumbledore picking through your mind and finding any of this out. And reach out to your peers – they'll be useful."

Gringotts

Grocknut was nursing his 'liquid medication' as he preferred to call it. The visit from Voldemort had, as much as he didn't want to admit it, surprised and disturbed him. Yet he couldn't lie – it had sent a thrill through him that he had not felt in over 30 years, not since his last fight in the pit. For him, there was only one problem; he was older now, and the chances of him being able to hold his own in the pit, or against goblins like Ragnok, were slim. But the opportunity to rebuild Gringotts to its former glory, and become the centre of finance for the whole world?

No real goblin would pass that up for anything.

He snarled, knowing that Ragnok wouldn't take the opportunity. He had spent too long with the humans, believing in their "shares" and "stocks". He believed that humans were capable of doing finances. It was insanity! Voldemort was right – a change was needed, and all he had to do was find the right goblin for the job. One who had a good understanding of the inner workings of Gringotts, one who had the guts to do what was needed. One who would be willing to become the new Bank Manager, to spill blood if it came to it.

Grocknut had a few goblins in mind, ones who had been passed over or were clearly goblins who would rise far. Perhaps several of them – after all, the Bank Accounts Overseer and Bank Operations Overseer were all close to Ragnok too – they wouldn't stand by and allow a coup to occur without a fight. Grocknut suspected this was why Voldemort didn't want to get too involved – while an ally, he didn't understand enough about the Goblins to be able to ensure the coup would be successful – but Grocknut could. One wrong move though, and Gringotts could break out into civil war. Grocknut then considered the other item that Voldemort had left.

Sighing, he placed his drink on the table and picked up the slip of paper Voldemort had left. On seeing the name written there, he understood why Voldemort needed the search done discreetly. Were anyone to find out he was even searching for them would raise a lot of awkward questions. The fact that the person was still alive, even after all these years, was a surprise, and yet if it was true, Grocknut could understand the value that he could bring to Voldemort.

Gellert Grindelwald.

Should the man still be alive, his mind would most likely still be as sharp now as it was back in the 40's. Grocknut remembered hearing the stories of the man from his parents, the whispers that built into shouts as he quickly started a rampage against Magical Europe under the guise of a muggle war. The man's charisma and charm had enabled him to gather up such a large following that it had nearly brought the wizarding world to its knees, only being stopped by Albus Dumbledore. Grocknut didn't know how Voldemort planned on keeping him alive for long, as the man had to have been wasting away wherever he was. He contemplated who he was going to ask to find him, and grinned when the perfect goblin came to mind.

Lower Levels, Gringotts

It didn't take long for him to make his way to the depths of the living cavern (and that was another thing that made his blood boil – Goblins being forced to live in small caverns!), where black markets ran prevalent and those who didn't want to interact with shady characters stayed away. He made his way to a small pub, well hidden from view.

The Slim Pickings was not a goblin pub that you went to for a good drink or a hot meal. The ale was cheap and the food terrible, but it was considered a gold mine to any goblin, mainly for its use as a trafficking and smuggling point, as well as a good place to have conversations away from prying eyes.

Grocknut slipped in, cloak over his head. He didn't feel like he would be recognised, as no one seemed to pay him any attention, but he hadn't lived as long as he had without being careful. He moved over to a side table and sat down. The other goblin looked up, the only indication of surprise being the slight raise of an eyebrow. "Grocknut" he whispered; his voice as rough as he looked. "Never thought I'd see you here."

"Times are changing Klunrac. I need information." He muttered, keeping his voice low. Klunrac didn't reply, just looked at him as he picked at his teeth with a long fingernail. "And what makes you think that I have the information you seek?"

Grocknut threw a sack on the table, and Klunrac's snatched it off the table. He opened it and counted through the Galleons. "This information must be worth a lot. What is it you seek?"

"A man who has been believed dead or defeated for fifty years. This man." He slid the paper with Voldemort's writing over to Klunrac, who picked it up. The slight widening of his eyes told Grocknut that he was stunned. "What you're asking is very dangerous. Should anyone find out – "

"Why do you think I came to you?" Grocknut cut in, already having weighed out the risks. "Ideally, I need the information soon. What I gave you – consider a minor down payment of what you will receive. The gold doesn't matter to the one wanting the information, just that he gets it in a timely manner."

Klunrac looked back at Grocknut. A small grin, full of teeth, slowly spread over his face. "this man must mean a lot to this someone. I will ask around. Anything else?"

"Why yes" Grocknut replied, leaning in and giving his own grin. "Where would I find some goblins, who have been slighted by Ragnok?"

Harry, Privet Drive

Voldemort wasted no time, merely letting go of his arm before disapperating away, but Harry was too exhausted to really care. Making his way over to the door, he found himself stalled as his uncle appeared to have locked the door – and had removed the spare key, as Harry discovered when he moved the too conveniently placed brick that sat near it. With a sigh, Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the door handle, muttering an "Alohomora" and pushing the door open with a bit more force than necessary.

The Dursleys jumped when they heard the door slam against the wall. Harry glanced in to see Vernon stood in front of Petunia, trying to protect her, and Dudley who was crouched behind the couch. Harry was tempted to send a mild stinging hex at him but decided against it.

"You might want to get the locks changed Uncle. It appears that the spare key has gone missing. Would be a shame if I was accidently locked out the house, wouldn't it?" he said, his eyes not leaving Vernon's face as the tip of his wand started to glow. His Uncle gulped as he stood there, the little blood in his face draining rapidly.

"I-is that s-so? Must have happened recently. Pet, r-remind me to call the locksmith first t-thing" Vernon muttered and Harry nodded, a small smile ghosting his face. He turned and walked up the stairs, gleaming a small sense of satisfaction when he heard the Dursleys sigh with relief that he didn't curse them.

Walking into his room, he leaned against the door frame and sighed. Tired, he went to move to his bed but froze on seeing the strange creature on his bed.

It was small, no taller than his hips, with large eyes and floppy ears. It was wearing the most disgusting item of clothing, which he recognised as a pillowcase after a few seconds.

"Harry Potter? So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir!"

Harry nodded, keeping an ear out for the Dursleys in case they panicked from hearing a squeaky voice. "Eh, hi? Dobby, was it? What are you doing in my room?

"Well, Harry Potter Sir, Dobby has come to tell you … oh it is difficult sir … Dobby is unsure where to begin sir."

"Well, you could start at the beginning Dobby" Harry said, sitting down on the bed. Dobby seemed close to bursting, and Harry didn't need more hyperactive squeaking to keep building his headache.

"Well, you see sir, Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter Sir!" Dobby said, bouncing on his feet.

Harry couldn't help it, but he frowned. "I don't mean to offend, but it doesn't look like you could defend much."

To his surprise, Dobby burst into tears. Harry flinched, looking at the door before looking back. "Sorry. Did I do something?"

"Harry Potter didn't want to offend Dobby. Harry Potter Sir is too kind to Dobby." Dobby whimpered, wiping his eyes with the pillowcase.

Once Harry was certain, or as certain as he could be, that Dobby wasn't about to burst into tears again, he spoke up. "So, why do you wish to protect me?"

"Oh, Dobby has come to tell Harry Potter that he must not return to Hogwarts. If he goes, he will be in mortal danger."

Harry was stunned. A few seconds passed before he spoke up. "How do you know this?"

He watched in horror as Dobby squeaked and ran at the wall, throwing himself headfirst. He crumpled at the bottom and then started slamming his head against it. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

Harry pulled his wand out and quickly levitated Dobby away from the wall. Dobby stopped wailing and watched with wide eyes as Harry moved him to the middle of the room. "Harry Potter Sir was performing magic. But young wizards aren't allowed to perform magic outside of school! Young Master –" Dobby froze, and Harry nodded.

"Ok – can't talk about your family, right?" Dobby nodded. "So, what can you tell me about this mortal danger? Nothing that will cause you to hurt yourself."

"Dobby found out about it recently, Harry Potter Sir. Magic, nasty magic is coming to Hogwarts, and is going to place Harry Potter Sir in danger. Dobby heard of Harry Potter Sirs defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named a second time recently, and Dobby cannot allow Harry Potter to suffer at his hands again!"

Harry nodded. "Well, Dobby, I don't know what you know but I can't stay here. Hogwarts is my home, and my friends are there."

"Harry Potter Sir must not have many friends since they don't write to Harry Potter Sir" Dobby said.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Wait, what do you mean?" then his eyes widened. "Have you been stopping my friends from sending letters?"

Dobby froze, before timidly nodding. "Dobby felt that if Harry Potter didn't hear from his friends, he wouldn't want to go back to Hogwarts."

Harry sighed. "Well, you're wrong. I can deal with whatever it is you think is at Hogwarts Dobby. I don't need your help." He held out his hand. "Can I have my letters, please?"

Dobby whimpered, rocking back and forward on his feet. Slowly, he held the letters out and Harry grabbed them. Before he could say anything else, Dobby disappeared with a crack. Harry stared at the spot where the elf was stood before shaking his head. 'I'll speak to Voldemort about this when I next see him. Why wouldn't he mention this?'

Voldemort's Study

The room was silent, exactly how he liked it. He despised unnecessary noise and distractions. Often, he would curse his Death Eaters due to them being noisy or annoying during their meetings. It helped to keep them under his control, certainly, and meant that they all did their best to please him when he gave them orders.

A small twinge of pain popped behind his eyes and he tiredly rubbed them. Thinking of the pure-blooded idiots always gave him headaches. The decades and centuries of inbreeding meant that often most of them were dumb, magically useless or a combination of both. Some got away lucky – James, Lucius, Bella to name a few. Even Narcissa, coming from a family that heavily inbred, was clever enough. What he saw of their son showed that clearly something had gone wrong. He had no finesse, no sense of cunning. Running to your parents showed weakness to your enemies, and Voldemort wondered how Lucius thought of it.

He should visit Lucius soon. Voldemort looked down at the single page that had some notes. Lucius would be more than eager to start playing the Wizengamot and Ministry. Fudge relied too much on other peoples input, and Lucius would be able to play him like a fiddle. Of course, he would need other people in the Ministry, ones working independently of Lucius but working towards the same goal, however

With Harry and Hermione at Hogwarts, he now felt comfortable leaving it in their hands. As students, and as the Boy-Who-Lived, they would be under less scrutiny then anyone else he could send in. Any friends and allies they gathered would be less suspicious too. Perhaps he could find someone else, but if they were too heavy-handed then Dumbledore might notice. Of course, the man was senile, but still caution was necessary.

Gringotts was in a similar situation. He trusted Grocknut; well, as much as you could trust a blood-thirsty goblin. However, the goblin was ruthless and cunning. Getting him to organise a coup would make the takeover of Gringotts easy and place them into a position where they would be willing to work with him.

The next area he needed to work on was the non-magical side. He needed allies, powerful ones, who were willing to work with him. His biggest challenge though was finding ones who both agreed and would allow him and his chosen to dictate and direct how to fix the non-magical world. An idea came to his mind and he smirked. He had an appointment to make.

10 Downing Street

The room was dark when John walked into his private residence. He had been stuck in meetings all day, having politicians and aides all clamouring for attention. He walked over to the mini-bar and poured himself a drink. As he poured, he felt a slight chill run down the back of his neck.

"Drink?" he asked, turning once he finished pouring to look at the man who was sat on his couch. The man was young, with an air about him that oozed confidence yet made John feel like he was looking into the eyes of a predator. "I have a 50 year old scotch if that's your particular drink of interest."

The man smiled. "if you're willing to pour two fingers, I'll share a drink."

John nodded, grabbing another glass. Pouring out the right amount, he walked over and sat down on the other couch, facing the man. "I'm assuming, since the alarm hasn't gone off and this room isn't swarming with my security that you're magical."

The man smirked. "Maybe I'm just good at sneaking."

"There is no way a non-magical person can get into this room without being detected. You're magical." John leaned back on the couch. "So, to whom am I speaking? You're clearly not one of the Other Ministers people."

"Tom Riddle, and I must say it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Major. Though, perhaps you've heard of my alternate name – Lord Voldemort." Voldemort sipped some of the drink. "This is a nice scotch."

"Naturally – I'm not going to drink shit" John scoffed. "So, you're the Dark Lord that I heard was terrorising Magical Britain. I thought you'd be older."

"Dying has a way of rejuvenating you. I'm surprised that you're not panicking." Voldemort said.

"Well, if the stories I have been told are true, then I imagine I'll be dead or controlled long before I can raise an alarm." John said. "So, why are you here?"

"Why, to have a discussion with you." Voldemort leaned forward. "What have you been told of my goals?"

"That you wish to subjugate the non-magical world, and to wheedle out the unworthy. Or at least, that's what I've been told by Alex."

Voldemort nodded. "Indeed. The way I went about it, at least publicly, was wrong. To be fair, I was young, inexperienced at the time I started. I had bold plans, and by the time I realised I had made a mistake it was too late to change it. But, as I said, dying has allowed me to put things in perspective. I no longer want to control the non-magical world – I want to fix it."

John put his drink down. "Fix it? What needs fixing?"

"The general ineptitude of world leaders? The carbon footprint? Global warming? War? Take your pick. The non-magical world is in crisis and needs strong people in place to fix it."

"And let me guess, the magical people are the ones to do it?"

"No. We are the ones to help you fix it. The world will be torn apart if magic is revealed to the masses. However, if you were interested, I would work alongside you to fix these problems." Voldemort stood up and walked over to the window. "The general populace are sheep. If they are happy then they sing your praises, if they are not, they bolt and run." Voldemort turned to John. "How much do you like staying Prime Minister?"

"I do enjoy it. But the people won't allow me to stay in power forever – soon I'll make mistakes."

Voldemort smiled. "I'm aware. Your political rivals will do their best to tear you apart. So, what I propose is that we form an alliance. I will help you maintain your position as Prime Minister, and in return all I'll need is your help in implementing some bills that we need."

John nodded. "You know it will be difficult to keep me in power."

Voldemort smiled. "I am the Dark Lord for a reason. It's simple – by the time the next election comes around, it wont matter who else is running. No one else will be considered. The people will keep you in and your government will be stronger than ever." He walked back over and held out his hand. "Do we have an agreement?"

John looked at Voldemort, then stood up and shook his hand. "I don't want to be kept in the dark. Also, why me?"

Voldemort smirked. "Naturally. I'm not like the Ministry; those who are working with me will often be justly rewarded. To answer your second question; I've heard about how the Minister and Ministry treats you – like you're below them. You want to show them that Muggles are a force they should be aware of. Plus, the fact that they get your name wrong as well is just insulting."

John nodded. "Then I think this will work out perfectly."

Azkaban

Ten guards. That was all that there was to protect the prison and prevent the prisoners from escaping. It was not a job that anyone wanted, and that meant that if you were there, it was because you either had done something wrong to the wrong person, or you had messed up majorly.

Auror Nick Ollerton grumbled as he moved through max security, delivering food to the prisoners. He had been at Azkaban for three months, all because he had not moved out of the way from his guard post for the Senior Undersecretary to walk past. He shuddered as he moved past the pair of Dementors floating either side of the door, his hand drifting up to grasp the Silver Medallion around his neck.

He reached the end of the corridor and paused. He started to walk back, ignoring the jeering and screams coming from most of the prisoners. He stopped outside Door 9, slid the viewer across and looked in. He frowned when he saw that Lestrange was not jeering as usual, or even looking at the door, but was instead exercising. Clearly, she had been doing exercise for a while, and more intensely too recently, because she appeared to have gained some muscle mass since she was last taken out of the cell.

Nick banged on the door. "What are you doing, Lestrange?"

Bellatrix didn't stop, instead did a few more while counting them out before stopping. She got her knees beneath her and sat up. Nick tried to ignore the sweat that was running down her naked torso enticingly, or the fact that she was much healthier looking than anyone else in Max.

A sly grin grew on her face. "What's the matter, Auror? Don't like what you see?" She pouted and rolled her shoulders and watched as Nick's eyes dropped down to her breasts before coming back up. "I just don't want my clothes to smell like sweat all day" she pouted, talking in a baby tone. It wasn't mocking though, not like she normally did when on raids.

"What are you even exercising for? You're not getting out." Nick said and she chuckled. "True – but a girl has to look good, even if it is for herself." With that, she rolled over and started doing sit-ups. She noticed that it was a few seconds before the viewer closed, and while she didn't stop a smile slowly grew across her face. She listened as the Auror walked off, counting his steps before the door closed. 'fifteen steps. That's how far it is to the door. How many could I go before an alarm goes off?' she stopped doing sit-ups, and grabbing the bars to start doing pull ups. 'What's the name of that Auror? Nate? Nathaniel? Nick, that's right. Might be useful to get him on my side. Or at least, until I'm out of this cell'

Nick closed the viewer and moved on. He knew he should report it, being that she almost appeared sane, but if he did then he would lose the view. Letting her continue would do nothing but improve it, not that it was bad to begin with. She seemed to have been one of the lucky few prisoners who seemed to not mind or be affected by being around the dementors, similar to the other Black down the corridor. He chuckled before moving off – maybe being here for a short time wouldn't be so bad after all.

Next Chapter: They train, Voldemort visits an old friend and the Weasleys!