Kreacher is more happy about Harry's new job than Harry thinks he should be. Or perhaps the elf is just pleased that he finally can get the filthy half blood out of the Black ancential home for good. Or, almost for good. He will be back during the summer months.
Hermione is ecstatic that he is going to teach at Hogwarts. Harry tries to calm her by reminding her it is an assistant position to Voldemort . It doesn't help.
Ron wonders if he will get paid. Harry wonders about the same thing.
"Think of how much knowledge he has gathered over the years. How much he can teach the students."
"Has she gone mental?" Ron asks Harry in a low voice. Hermione doesn't notice, she is too busy talking.
"Might have," Harry whispers back and takes a bite of the homemade pizza that Hermione has made for lunch. Much to Ron's delite as pizza isn't normal cuisine in the Wizarding world.
They moved in together in a small cottage not too far from the Barrow after the final battle. There is a large garden where Harry and Ron can play Quidditch every now and then and where Hermione can grow herbs. It's cosy and Harry loves to visit. Ron confessed one late night over too many drinks that they are trying. Harry doesn't need a complete sentence to understand what they are trying to archive.
"Hermione," Harry says, interrupting her mid sentence. "You do realise we are talking about Voldemort? The Dark Lord. The one who terrorist the Wizarding world."
"You are the one who suggested we let him around children ." Touché.
"How did you convince the Wizengamoth to agree to this anyway?" Ron wants to know.
That had not been easy. Even when Kingsley had backed him it had taken time and a lot of discussions to bring the rest of the members over to their side. To see the benefits of Harry's suggestion.
"Hard work."
Hermione finally stops talking for a moment.
"Where is he now?" Ron asks.
"Hogwarts," Harry answers between bites. "He and Snape are going over the basics."
Ron laughs. "And how are they getting along?"
"They haven't tried to kill each other yet so I would say surprisingly well."
Hermione gets a thoughtful expression on her face. "What name is he going to use? His real one?"
Harry nods. "Yes. Professor Riddle. Who would have thought this was how the war was going to end?" They couldn't exactly call him Professor You-Know-Who.
"And he agreed to the vow?" Hermione wants to know.
"Yes. Or, they called it an oath. Voldemort asked that we used an ancient oath, not the unbreakable vow. They all agreed quite quickly."
The bookworm in Hermione immediately wakes. "What kind of oath?"
Harry shakes his head. "Don't know. You can always come by and ask him."
Hermione frowns but looks like she is considering doing just that. "You didn't research it? Harry! This is Voldemort we are talking about."
Harry lifts his hands. "The Wizengamot agreed to it, and Kingsley actually looked pleased that Voldemort would accept the oath instead of the vow. Kingsley also said it wouldn't affect me in any way. And I haven't noticed anything. Why should he trick me into an oath that would harm me?"
"He has a point there, Hermione," Ron points out.
Hermione doesn't look like she agrees but she lets the subject drop. Harry knows it's just temporary. She is like a dog with a bone. Perhaps a good thing she has decided to become a lawyer. Currently she is employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Ron has decided to step in and run the shop together with his brother. He enjoys it more than he thought he would.
Ron lifts his glass of wine. "To Harry's new job then," he says. Harry hides his face in his hands and groans, but obediently lifts his glass to toast to his unwanted position as an assistant.
'
Snape looks like he is considering whether drinking the bottle of fire-whiskey in front of him would be a good way to drown his sorrows.
"Potter," he states as Harry opens the door to his office and slips in. Voldemort is nowhere to be seen and Harry feels a stab of worry at the thought of Voldemort walking around unsupervised.
"Why in Merlin's beard did you think it would be a good idea to convince the bloody Dark Lord to teach?" Snape apparently loses the battle with himself and reaches for the bottle. He pours the liquid into two glasses and pushes one towards Harry, indicating with his head that he is to take a seat.
Great, Harry thinks. Just how he wanted to spend his evening, being berated by Snape.
Snape downs half the glass.
"Do you think he will be terrible at it?" Harry asks instead of answering the question. For some reason he had believed that Voldemort would be good at it.
"No. He will be bloody good at it," Snape snaps bitterly. "I was taught by him myself. But I will have to get a secretary to answer all the letters of complaints that will come from the students and parents."
Harry winces. Some of the parents had been completely against allowing their children any contact with a convicted terrorist, but Kingsley had somehow managed to calm them down and there was only a handfull of children that had been withdrawn from the school. Harry assumes that the news that he would be there too has helped on the mood also.
The rest of the content in Snape's glass disappears and he pours himself another.
Harry takes a long sip from his own glass. He coughs. "Where is he?"
"If I was to venture a guess I would say the library."
"Do you think it's safe to let Voldemort wander around alone?"
Snape flinches. It is small but there. "Riddle. Or Tom. I don't care, but you are not using that name in this school."
Harry looks into his glas before taking another sip.
"As for him wandering around. How did you see this working out? That we would lock him in a cell in the basement and only bring him out for his classes?"
Harry shrugs. Actually he had not thought that far.
"As long as the b-oath is in place there isn't much he can do. He's not stuipd either and he knows we could always simply lock him back up in Azkaban or kill him, and from the bruises on his face I don't think he would like either one of those options. He can't physically hurt someone. Mentally he might end up traumatising everyone."
The bruises yes. Harry swallows. He should have offered to heal those but he had not thought about it. It would probably kill Voldemort to ask for help. He decides to offer to heal them once he finds the man.
"Your job is to make sure he isn't too hard on the students. If he can manage that then Hogwarts has probably gotten the best teacher she ever has had. Just keep him in line. If he gets bored then he has a tendency to find entertainment in scaring or tormenting those around him."
Harry raises his eyebrows. "How exactly do you expect me to keep him in line? This is the Dark Lord we are talking about."
"Order him."
Harry snorts. "Yeah, like he will listen to me."
Snape drains his second glass. "You might be surprised," he mutters under his breath.
"I have sent one of the house elves to Diagon Alley to acquire some clothes for him. I am not comfortable sending you two to Diagon Alley at the moment. I have briefed the staff about their new colleague. They were ecstatic as you can imagine. I would recommend that you take your meals in your room in the beginning. The students will be returning over the weekend so you have a couple of days to get settled."
The third glass disappears.
"Sir, are you alright?" Harry asks, a little worried about the amount of alcohol Snape has consumed in a very short time.
"No, you moron. Do you think it is pleasant to have him here? In his eyes I did betray him. Not to mention that he is completely insufferable, arrogant and while I am glad he is sane once more it has somehow managed to make him even more irritating." Snape slams the glass back down on the table.
"I am sorry," Harry says without meaning it.
Snape snorts. "No, you aren't. Now go and check on your little pet and make sure he isn't tearing down the school."
Voldemort isn't in the library to Harry's surprise. The feeling of panic starts to creep up on him until he remembers that Voldemort can't leave the school without Harry's permission.
Curious, he reaches out to the link and lets it guide him in hopes of finding the man. He does. In their apartment. Cooking. He stops in the doorway and watches as Voldemort chops vegetables and adds them to the pot that is bubbling on the stove.
"Are you cooking?" Harry asks, mystified. He logically knows that Voldemort at some point in his life probably has had to cook for himself, but he is having a hard time believing it.
"No, I am painting."
Harry rolls his eyes. "How do you even know how to cook?"
"I read a cooking book." The voice is still clip and from the link Harry could feel irritation but also something else.
Voldemort reaches up into a shelf above him and takes down two bowls that he places on the table. Spoons and glasses follow before salt and pepper. In the end the pot is placed on the table and Voldemort transfers a couple of ladles into each bowl.
Apparently he expects Harry to eat too.
"Sit," Voldemort commands and Harry bristles.
"You are not allowed to order me to do anything," he snaps, annoyed at the man's tone. If Voldemort is having a bad day then that's his problem. There is no reason for him to take it out on Harry.
He still sits. The food smells good after all.
Voldemort seems lost in his own thoughts, then something flashes over Voldemort's face that looks a lot like pain from the way he lifts his hand to rub at his forehead. "I apologise."
Okay. Harry wonders if he misheard. Is the man really apologising?
"It's chicken soup," Voldemort says when he looks up and catches Harry staring at the bowl. Poisoned chicken soup? Harry wonders.
"I can't kill you even if I wanted to," Voldemort points out as if he has read Harry's mind.
Harry is pretty sure he can't use Legimilense without his magic. And yes, Harry remembers the wording on the instructions. They had been formulated to ensure that there were no loopholes. Only problem is that Voldemort is a Slythering so if there is any, then he will find them.
He dips his spoon in the bowl and tastes it. It's good. Very good. He tells Voldemort as much.
"Of course it is," the man answers. Harry fights the need to roll his eyes.
"I still don't understand why you are cooking. Why not just call one of the house elves?"
Across from him Voldemort's hand freezes for a moment from where he was on his way to dip the spoon back into the bowl. Harry can feel his annoyance. "The house elves don't like me."
That sounds like a plausible explanation, except for… "Where did the ingredients come from?"
"The kitchen."
Harry closes his eyes and counts to ten. It doesn't help. "Just answer the question properly." It comes out more as a command than a request and he waits for Voldemort to snap and tell him that if he can't order Harry then Harry can't order him. But, nothing. Voldemort is looking out the window, his teeth clenched and there are lines of pain forming around his eyes and mouth. Probably from the way the man is clenching his teeth, Harry thinks.
"If you go down the staircase to the Hufflepuff basement then you will come across a painting of a fruit bowl. If you tickle the pear it will turn into a handle and you can access the kitchens. I simply went down and retrieved the ingredients I needed."
Harry stares. Voldemort is acting somewhat strange, but perhaps it's just a tactic? Reaching out to the link he can feel frustration.
He decides to change the topic and tries to come up with something he can talk to Voldemort about, and isn't that just the strangest feeling. "Snape is drinking. Did your meeting go that badly?"
Voldemort gives him a small smile. "It went about as well as one could expect. The traitor seems to be doing a decent job running this school."
Harry considers pointing out that Voldemort had set himself up to be betrayed when he had killed Lily Potter. In the end he doesn't.
"I went down to the Chamber of Secrets."
Harry's spoon clatter to the table before sliding off and landing on the floor. "I-, you-. You did what?! How?"
Voldemort folds his hands under his chin as Harry bends down to retrieve his spoon. He puts it in the sink and gets a new one.
Harry sinks back down onto his chair. "Well, you can thank your diary self for the mess down there."
"I can?" Voldemort's voice is unreadable. Harry frowns.
"Did Lucius tell you what happened to it?"
"Only that it had been destroyed. I did punish him rather severely for that mistake."
I bet you did, Harry thinks and remembers how the man had looked at the final battle. Like the shell of his former self. Voldemort looks like he wants to order Harry to tell him what happened, and Harry half believes he will, ignoring Harry's previous order not to do so.
"Will you tell me the whole story, Harry? Of how you destroyed a piece of my soul. How she died and the Chamber was left in ruin."
The voice is very seductive. Hell, the whole man is very seductive. There should be some rules against Dark Lords looking as good as Tom Riddle did. It really wasn't fair.
He tells him the story. There is no reason why not. Then he waits for an explosion or something but Voldemort just nods. His head is still resting on his hands. The bowl of soup is finished.
Harry studies him. Then it hits him and he frowns. The bruises and cuts are gone.
"Did Snape heal your face?"
"No. I healed the cuts and the bruises."
Harry stands and reaches for his wand. How is that possible? Both Kinglsey and Snape have assured him that Voldemort can't access his magic.
"Oh, calm down. My magic healed the wounds but I didn't actively do anything. You are quite safe. I can't access it in order to do any magic." Voldemort smiles. "The reason that my magic couldn't do so in Azkaban was due to the collar. It completely blocked my magic."
Harry wonders if he is lying. He probably is. He sits back down, but keeps his wand close.
Voldemort's eyes zeros in on the wand. "That is not the Holly wand." Nor is it the Elder wand. It's a Blackthorn.
"No. That one broke on Christmas Eve the year before last."
Voldemort laughs. "Merlin, Harry, you can't even be trusted to take care of a wand, but they do expect you to look after me."
"Oh, shut up," Harry snaps. Immediately Voldemort's face changes as it closes off and the feeling of frustration makes its way through the link. "We were fleeing from you and that blasted snake of yours."
The soup is getting cold, but Harry eats the rest of it anyway. Voldemort is unusually silent.
"What?" Harry asks in experhasion. Voldemort looks away and out the window. The feeling of frustration is more clear now. "You can speak, you know."
An elf pops into the room. A female one. She unshrinks what looks like half a wardrobe and places everything neatly on the coffee table before turning towards Harry.
"Headmaster sent Tinsy to fetch clothes for Lord Potter's charge. Tinsy hopes Lord Potter is satisfied. If not, please call on Tinsy." She completely ignores Voldemort which is strange as the elves always greet everyone in the room.
"Thank you, Tinsy," Harry says.
"Do Lord Potter want Tinsy to clean up after the meal or will Lord Potter's charge do so?"
Harry blinks. Voldemort leaves the table with a huff of anger and disappears into one of the bedrooms. Harry is surprised the door survives the impact with the doorframe. "Thank you, but I can manage." He smiles and she disappears. The elves really do not like Voldemort it seems.
He finishes the meal and then cleans the dishes and puts the rest of the food in the fridge. Looking at the boxes of clothes and then the closed door he decides to knock.
He knocks a couple of times before opening the door. He isn't sure what he expects to find. The room is the same as his. White walls, dark wood. A bed, a nightstand, fireplace and a desk and chair. Large windows even though they are in the dungeon. They are charmed to show different landscapes. The current theme looks to be underwater. He can see fishes swimming in the lagoon blue water.
Voldemort is curled up in one of the window seats. His head is resting on his arms that are folded on top of his knees. He looks a bit lost. And young.
Harry levitates the box through the door and puts them on the bed. After a glance at Voldemort he opens them. The robes are all black. No surprise there. And with a high collar. He waves his wand and they zoom into the wardrobe, hanging themselves up neatly. The rest of the accessories follow. It looks like Tinsy has remembered everything.
Harry turns and sees that Voldemort is watching him. Or rather, watching him perform magic. A strong wave of longing comes through the link and Harry feels sorry for him, but there is no way giving Voldemort access to magic will end well.
"I took care of the dishes," he says rather stupidly.
"Thank you." There is no sincerity in the words.
Harry nods and rubs the back of his neck. "Uhm," he moves to sit on the bed. It feels even stranger to be in a bedroom with Tom Riddle. "I think we need to establish some ground rules, seeing as we are sharing an apartment. Snape recommended we, or at least you, take our meals here the first few days. I assume if I ask the elves they will bring food so that we don't have to cook every meal."
"They will," Voldemort confirms in a toneless voice.
"Good. I assume the cleaning and laundry works the same here as with the other rooms in this castle".
Voldemort opens his mouth, but then he closes it again, before opening it once more. "You might have to order the elves to do those things for this apartment."
Harry closes his eyes for a moment. "Merlin, what did you do to the poor things to make them hate you this much? Tinsy!" he calls.
The elf pops into the bedroom. "Tinsy, I would appreciate it if the rooms were cleaned and the laundry handled the same way as the rest of the castle."
The elf sendes a look towards Voldemort who glares at it and looks like he is considering throwing the poor thing out the window. "Behave," Harry says. Voldemort glances at him before looking away.
"My apologies."
Harry frowns. That is the second time the man has said he is sorry in less than an hour.
Tinsy is nodding. "Of course, Lord Potter. Tinsy will make sure Lord Potter's rooms and the common areas are cleaned." With that she pops away leaving Harry with the feeling he is missing something here.
"Here," Voldemort places three books in front of Harry who is currently curled up on the couch. "These will be relevant to the syllabus for the spring term."
They are all thick and boring looking. "Seeing as you are taking your NEWT too they will come in handy."
Harry groans. He had forgotten about that.
"Don't worry, Harry," Voldemort smiles. "I'll help you pass."
And isn't that the height of irony? The man who is the reason why Harry didn't finish his seventh year is going to be the one to help him pass the exams.
Well, at least Voldemort looks to be finished sulking in his room.
He dreams of the graveyard. The pain, the panic. It feels like he is back there. He wakes to the feeling of being shaken.
"Harry. Harry!" That voice. He snaps awake and scoots backwards away from Voldemort who is perched on the edge of the bed with a hand on Harry's shoulder from where he has tried to wake Harry. The hand slides away as Harry moves.
"Your screams woke me up," Voldemort says.
Harry is still gasping for air. He nods as he tries to get his breathing under control.
Voldemort waits in silence.
When Harry finally can breathe evenly a thought strikes him. "How did you get in here?" He asks. There are wards on his door. Especially to keep Voldemort out of his room.
Voldemort raises an eyebrow. "Through the door." He answers making it sound like he is questioning Harry's sanity.
"I have warded the door not to allow any humans in. How did you get in?" Harry asks again. This time suspiciously.
Something passes over Voldemort's face. Harry is too tired to try and understand what.
Voldemort shrugs. "Through the door. Either you are very bad at setting wards, or perhaps the snake venom from the resurrection ritual fooled your wards."
Harry is not completely convinced but he has no other explanations. Either way the man had simply entered to wake Harry from his nightmare. He doesn't seem to harbour any bad intentions.
"Nightmares?" Voldemort asks.
Harry nods. "The graveyard."
"Oh, yes. I can imagine that day would leave a lasting impression."
"You think?" Harry snaps.
Voldemort holds out a vial that contains a purple liquid.
"Dreamless Sleep potion," Voldemort explains and hands it over.
Harry frowns. "Where did you get that?"
"Severus."
Why would Severus give Voldemort Dreamless potion?
"Why did he give you this?" A conversation with Voldemort feels like playing twenty-questions sometimes.
Voldemort looks away and Harry reaches for the link, eager to try and understand what Voldemort is feeling. He picks up on something that feels like embarrassment but he can not be sure.
Then Voldemort looks back at him and Harry can see something close to understanding in his eyes. "Nightmares."
Oh. That makes sense somehow. Considering everything Voldemort had been through, starting with the night he tried to kill Harry and up to today it would make sense that the man has nightmares. It is a bit surprising that Snape would agree to give him a vial of it, but who is he to judge?
In the end Voldemort leaves and Harry takes the potion.