Voldemort sat in a sumptuous chair in a receiving room at the Malfoy Manor. He had his hood up, and Narcissa was awkwardly waiting for the house-elves to bring some tea.
Finally, the Dark One threw his hood back, and looked his follower in the face.
"Narcissa," Voldemort smiled genuinely. It came easy to him these days. "Stop gaping, it's only a nose."
"But, my lord, you look so…. Different." She was about to say good, but caught herself at the last second. It wouldn't do to offend him.
The Dark Lord was reading her mind with legilimency right through her rather strong occlumency barriers, so he caught the thought, nonetheless. He kept quiet on the matter.
The witch continued carefully, "It's not just the nose… it's the hair, and teeth, and complexion, my lord, and your eyes… everything about you looks different. You are very handsome, if I may say so."
Narcissa blushed as she spoke, and Voldemort caught some strong emotions coming from her that made him smile. He drank the tea that had been served by the Malfoy house-elves to hide his smirk, although he was drinking it from his horcrux cup, unlike Narcissa who used only the finest china.
The Dark Lord's blue eyes seemed to twinkle in the praise, Narcissa noticed, and she decided to stop talking. He, on the other hand, was considering whether or not to tell Narcissa that it was a ritual he had discovered in the Black library, that allowed him to create such a body for himself. Finally, he decided to keep his cards close to his chest and opted instead to summon a scone to his hand, wandless and wordlessly, of course, and bit into it heartily.
Sensual activities such as drink and food have increased in enjoyment by a factor of ten since the ritual. His body was now much more alive than it had been since his first horcrux, all other states disregarded. Sex, for example, was always on his mind. Voldemort considered this often. He also considered Narcissa. Although over fifty, she was still quite attractive.
The Dark Lord heard the door open, and turned to look. He saw a luxuriously dressed wizard walk in. Lucius Malfoy had always been a vain man, and appearances were important to him.
When the lord entered the room where his wife was supposed to be entertaining Lord Voldemort he was shocked to find a very handsome wizard. Malfoy examined the rather well dressed wizard, seemingly no older than forty.
He was about to inquire as to who this was, for it was not the reptilian monster his master had become over the years, draped as always in a dementors cloak.
Somehow though, in the bottom of his being, Lucius knew it was Voldemort in front of him, and stopped himself from talking. He carefully chose his next actions.
"My lord," the blond man bowed at the waist. Years ago, he would have had to kneel, and grovel, and kiss the hem of the Dark One's robes, but ever since You-Know-Who had moved to the Grimmauld Place, he's treated Lucius with almost no contempt. It was as if he had been forgiven for losing the diary.
"Your arm, Lucius."
The wizard pulled back his sleeve and exposed the Dark Mark to his master's cold touch.
Except the finger that pressed against the cursed ink was warm. Lucius's eyebrows rose. Everything about the wizard in front of him screamed class and prestige, and nothing even hinted at the monstrous nature of the being that he truly was.
Voldemort had often used the Malfoy's manor for his general assemblies. They had a large banquet hall that could easily accommodate the hundred or so members that were trustworthy enough to carry his brand, and rich enough to feed them all well without it being a burden on their budget.
Of course, it also elevated the Malfoy's prestige in front of the other members.
Sometimes he showed favor to other members by having them host the organization, although most others would feel the burden of hosting the membership a little bit more than the Malfoys. He no longer humiliated the blond family, for he truly had forgiven Lucius in the depths of his blackened heart.
Had it not been for the diary fiasco, Dumbledore would never have found the ring. Had he not found the ring, he would not have died from the curses laid upon it. Had Dumbledore not died, the Order of the Phoenix would not have disintegrated, and he would not have moved into the House of Black. Had he not moved into the House of Black, he would have never found his locket there. Had he not found the locket, he would still have been descending into madness. Had he not have obtained the library of the House of Black, he would have never discovered the truth of the Deathly Hallows. Had he not known about the Deathly Hallows, he would have never collected two of them.
He put his hand into his pocket, and felt the calm call of the Elder Wand, Dumbledore's old wand, radiate through him.
Snape too, had surprised him.
First of all, by his confessions of betrayal after Dumbledore's death, and by him bringing the ring, his broken horcrux, back. Snape, of course, didn't know anything about the Deathly Hallows, and so didn't know what he truly had gifted his master.
Naturally, Voldemort had to punish Snape for the betrayal, but not too harshly. So he brought him along to the cave to find out what had happened to it, for the locket had been found at the House of Black. If Snape had been able to deceive the greatest legilimens alive, then something had to be done. Snape was made to drink the potion. Once Snape's mind had cracked on the edges due to said potion, Voldemort was able to inspect every corner of the man's mind. Voldemort didn't let him drink any water, and brought him back to safety.
The potion had no antidote. Only time would release the victim. After that, Voldemort began to work with Snape on various brewing projects, even learning a thing or two.
As the hall began to fill up with the Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort sat at the head of the huge table with his hood up, not unlike in the past, calmly tapping his fingers against the table. He could hear some chatter here and there.
The Resurrection Stone was on his finger, and his locket around his neck. His cup was on the table in front of him, and he had his two wands in his pockets. He also had a few tricks up his sleeve, and he felt like he could take on the whole of his Death Eaters, alone, and come out victorious.
All his hard work was finally going to pay off.
He stood, and threw his hood off.
Silence greeted his ears.
He looked over his loyal hundred subordinates. He nodded at them.
"Welcome, my loyal Death Eaters, to another general assembly of the Knights of Walpurgis. I have summoned you all to announce my intention to let go of my mantle as Lord Voldemort. I will be reclaiming my heritage as Lord Slytherin, publicly."
The silence was deafening. As a master legilimens, he could do more than read minds. He could sense emotions, and there was fear in the room, as well as confusion, elation.
"More on that later. As I'm sure many of you have heard, there have been undercurrents in this great nation of ours. The werewolves have been hunted as of late, and the three largest packs have vanished, except for the head of Fenrir Greyback. It was found staked, and urinated upon."
Some murmurs erupted, and Tom Riddle let the crowd exchange their ideas, for seemingly not everyone was aware.
"Although they had proven their loyalty in the past, they were filth. Loyal filth, but filth none-the-less, only better than muggles and squibs by barely a margin. Their loss is not of great importance. What is of importance is that it is not I who have commanded them to be wiped off the face of the Earth. That means someone is making a move in Britain against us. Keep your eyes and ears open."
His followers nodded in assent. Voldemort wondered if it was Harry Potter returning, but dismissed the thought for another time.
With a flourish of his phoenix wand, for he never showed the Death Stick in public, Tom Riddle made Lord Voldemort's corpse appear, seemingly from thin air. Of course, the Dark Lord loved subterfuge. The body had been there all along, shrunken to the size of pea. He had cancelled the spell, but it looked like he simply conjured the body.
In reality, quite a few muggles and wizards had been ritually sacrificed to produce the simulacrum that would pass even the most intense of scrutinies. Had he not created the thing himself, Tom Riddle would have believed that it truly was Lord Voldemort in front him, reptilian noselessness and all.
"Now, as you can clearly see, I have decided to change my appearance. The reign of terror of Lord Voldemort is over. As I have already mentioned, I will be claiming the identity of one Tom Riddle, half-blood, and last descendant of Salazar Slytherin."
Gasps broke out on the tables. Some were grinning. Others frowning.
"Tom Riddle will have defeated Lord Voldemort in combat, and will bring his body to the esteemed Wizengamot, where you shall embrace him, and reward him with Lordship, and he–that is, I–will become the new Lord Slytherin. My speaking parseltongue is proof enough that I am Slytherin's descendant. Tom Riddle had also actually been Salazar Slytherin's descendant by the House of Gaunt. You could consider us distant cousins, if truth be told."
Excited murmuring broke out around the table. Nobody had known anything about Lord Voldemort except his power and that he was Slytherin's Heir. The Dark Lord was opening up to his followers about his private affairs.
"I am aware that we have been applying pressure against the mudblood filth in our country, and I believe that they have been cowed enough. Most European countries have better economies than us, and they are driven by muggle-sourced innovation. We lose many mudbloods to the USA and Australia besides Europe."
He sensed confusion from the crowd. He was surprised his followers had not been able to pick up on the decrepit state of their nation before.
"Now, do not misunderstand me. We are not going to embrace the muggles… we simply must improve the state of our economy. Every other magical community has grown in the last thirty years… Ours has shrunk. I am afraid for the future of magic in the country, and it will not disappear, not on my watch.
"As the future Lord Slytherin, half-blood, I will be enacting reforms against the oppressive pureblood regime, as the mudbloods would call it. I will become their champion. This way, we shall control both sides of the equation."
He sensed the understanding in the crowd bubble up.
"Now, let us eat, for I am sure the food today will be delicious as always it is at Malfoy Manor. Bon appétit."