Title: A Return to Normalcy
Author: Noiri
Rating: T
Genre: Action/Adventure/Humor
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Hermione/Tom (AKA Voldemort)
Summary: Old age is accompanied by a slew of medical complications that even the Dark Lord is not immune to. In a fit of discomfort, Voldemort finds a brilliant solution with startling consequences.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Next chapter will have some more uh… action. Really.
Chapter 3: Imernia Imotasia
Oddly enough, while Bill and Fleur were being joined in matrimony, Lord Voldemort was facing marital problems of his own. Since his transformation, he had refined and restricted his priority to achieving luxurious immortality (and blowing Harry Potter to bite-sized pieces). Thankfully, it had not occurred to Voldemort to question his new optimistic view on life. Unbeknownst to the Dark Lord, Severus Snape had been mixing undetectable quantities of Lucinium, a potion with the extraordinary ability to purify and clear the drinker's mind, into Voldemort's daily nutrient shake. Voldemort did find a funny aftertaste mixed in with the kiwi lime flavor (and he had a very shrewd idea of what it was), but his thoughts were predisposed to think positively of Snape after Dumbledore's defeat. Somewhere in his brain, a little voice told him that he should be feeling a little wary of Snape's kindness and Draco Malfoy's good fortune, but these notions, too, were squashed diligently by Lucinium. Thus, though he occasionally joined his Deatheaters in their favorite pastime, muggle hunting, he found the trips boring and surprisingly awkward. It was on these excursions that Voldemort was ambushed by a number of marriage-related problems.
A restless Sunday night found Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Dolohov quite eager to engage in some muggle torture. Voldemort, having nothing planned in particular, grudgingly accompanied them. Offhandedly, he thought it might be an apt time to discipline Lucius, and perhaps embarrass him further for the Ministry and diary slips.
"Lucius," Voldemort began, as the party of four glided surreptitiously towards a muggle hangout, "I do not believe I ever properly addressed your … discipline."
"Master," murmured Lucius, salivating slightly, "I am the most discipline of all, you may command me at your whim and I will be sure to obey."
"Words are only words, my sly friend," Voldemort said knowingly, "and I trust you have realized your inexcusable blunders. I never wish to see such failures again."
"You are most wise and stunning, my master, I will remain always your humble slave," Lucius said, dropping his head in reverence. As he rose again, Voldemort noticed Lucius's eyes light up with a lustrous glare. Voldemort decided right there to abandon the subject. He was getting that uncomfortable feeling again. As they rounded the corner, Voldemort lowered his hood and surveyed the scene. They were beside a small muggle club in London, undoubtedly filled to the brim with drunkards.
"Take whomever you will, my friends," Voldemort announced tiredly as he stepped into the building. "I shall await you in the - "
"Oh, Miranda! Look at the handsome man over there? Let's go say hello!" a muggle woman shouted from the back. Voldemort barely had time to register that they were referring to him before a crowd of drunk middle-aged women plastered in make-up surrounded him. Voldemort caught a last glimpse of Lucius and the others, looking distinctly stunned, before he was pinned against the wall.
"TERRIO MORSMORADUM!" Voldemort bellowed, blowing then entire crowd of women away from him. Most landed, unconscious, against and on top of various chairs and tables. A select few, however, managed to stay alert. To Voldemort's horror, they now looked at him not with fear but with a renewed sense of lust. The men in the room seemed to notice surprisingly little, though a few were throwing him strange looks.
"Oh, this one musta got some big muscles," a brunette woman slurred. To Voldemort's left, a large blonde woman were crawling towards him and attempting to clutch his robes.
"INTERRIO!" Voldemort shouted, knocking out the woman.
"What's happened to Betsy dear?" said an old woman groggily.
"You must be from Spain!" someone shouted from Voldemort's left. "Oh, I absolutely LOVE men from Spain!"
"Don't you dare touch the young man, he's been looking at me all along."
Voldemort stared at the whole crowd dumbly, as several women regained consciousness. If he had been more cautious, Voldemort would have cursed the lot and left it at that. But this strange display of admiration, love, and affection disabled and confused him. He hadn't been able to attract people this way for many, many years.
"Will you marry me?"
Voldemort flipped around. An extremely overweight red-haired woman was pressing herself against him, in a manner that Voldemort found highly uncomfortable. She knocked Voldemort down, smothering his mouth with her pudgy hand.
"Marry me, just say it," she said in what she hoped was a seductive voice. Immediately, the remaining conscious women piled on top over him. Shouts of "No, marry me!" and "I love you forever!" were heard. Voldemort wondered wildly were the hell Lucius and the others were. Absolutely disgusted with his situation, Voldemort decided to Apparate out to the street again. In frustration, he destroyed the entire building with a quick "Pessur manitus". A few moments later, Lucius, Crabbe, Goyle, and Dolohov emerged from the rubble. Voldemort regarded them with utmost disgust.
Dolohov gave him a saddened look. "Oh beautiful master, you wouldn't have married any of them, would you?" If possible, Voldemort's scowl deepened.
"Your antics are most disgraceful. I hope this is not how you usually waste your time," Voldemort barked. Crabbe and Goyle, at least, had the decency to look down in shame.
"Of course, my Lord, of course," Lucius said smoothly. "I am most thankful that you did not find any of the women attractive." Voldemort looked at him derisively. He decided not to analyze Lucius's words any further.
The next day, Voldemort schemed while Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to Hogwarts. "Oh, Harry, I'm so glad we got the Head positions this year!" Hermione gushed excitedly.
"Oh, yeah," said Harry offhandedly, fingering his Head Boy badge. He really had no idea why McGonagall, the new Headmistress, had given him the job, seeing as how he had never been made a Prefect. "I think I'm going to give the badge back, though," he shrugged, as the Hogwarts express zoomed cleanly through a mountain.
"You are?" Hermione's eyes opened widely, as though such a deed was wholly unheard of. "Why?"
Ron seemed to brighten up slightly at the news. "Well, I think I'm going to be out of Hogwarts for most of the year, since … you know," Harry said, trailing off.
Both Ron and Hermione adopted similar looks of surprise and admiration. "You're really going to go to Godric's Hollow, then?" asked Ron, his mouth hanging slightly open.
"Well, yeah," Harry said uncomfortably. Hadn't they already touched on this at the end of sixth year? "Dumbledore reckoned that I should go and check out the … er, scene, you know, because, well - "
Hermione raised her hand reflexively, as though answered a question in class. "Of course! I should have figured that part out!"
"What part?" Ron said irritably, throwing Hermione a short-lived glare.
"You know," started Hermione, though it was very clear that Ron didn't know, "because all magic leaves traces, and Harry's got to find out as much about Voldemort as possible."
"And the Horcruxes," Harry added.
Hermione seemed to be having an internal fit. "Oh! Of course, I can't believe I forgot about those too. Horcruxes are - "
"I know what a Horcrux is, all right? You're not the only one Harry told." Ron scowled, his face turning red. Ron's words seemed to have a calming effect on Hermione. She resettled in her seat and bought a few Cauldron Cakes from the cart as it passed by.
"Well, Harry, in that case, I think I'll have to turn in my badge as well," Hermione said resolutely.
"What?" Harry shouted, scaring a group of first years in the corridor. "You're not going to be coming with me, are you?"
"Of course we are, mate," Ron grinned. Harry did not grin back. On the contrary, his face contorted at this piece of news.
"Didn't we talk about this during Dumbledore's funeral?" said Hermione. "Harry, Dumbledore wanted you to tell us these things for a reason." Harry's face dropped a bit more. "I know Dumbledore made you tell us. He wants us to help you, Harry."
"Not that you need that much help," Ron added quickly, when Harry scowled. "But wouldn't it be nice if we came along for … er … company?"
Suddenly something echoed in Harry's mind. Voldemort always works alone. Dumbledore obviously did not feel it best for Harry to work alone. And although Harry and Voldemort wished for isolation in different counts, the former to protect his friends and the latter to protect against incompetence, Harry decided that it would be best not to follow in his archenemy's footsteps.
"Right," Harry said, dazed at his new revelation. "Company."
"Speaking of company," Ginny said, poking her head in through the door, "where have you lot been? Terry Boot just won't leave me alone."
Harry blushed unconsciously. "Oh, yeah, come in, Ginny." At this, talk turned quidditch, which Harry felt rather guilty for abandoning. He decided not to reveal his plan to Ginny all too soon, though he was sure Hermione might give Ginny a debriefing once the two reached the girls' dormitories.
Hogwarts was much the same as it had always been, though the scene in the Great Hall showed some conspicuous absences. Harry noted that Slytherin was about a third of its usual size, and the few Slytherins that were left were visibly shaken at the thought of the Deatheaters that had been among them. The rest of the Houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw were also significantly smaller, as many parents had decided to withdraw their children for safety reasons. Likewise, the sorting of first years was much shorter than it had been before. The hat's song had a peculiarly morbid tone, ending with "For the few remaining, for the few that are alive, gather in unity with strength and luck and you all just might survive." ("We ought to buy a more cheerful one," Ron commented, "that scared the first years out of their wits, that did.") The new headmistress, McGonagall, though not nearly as respected as Dumbledore had been, nevertheless started the start-of-term address with impressive vigor. Her sharp voice, usually enough to straighten students in their seats, made it very clear that misbehavior was strictly forbidden. "Who's going to take her place, though?" Ron said warily, upon realizing that their Transfiguration professor and head of house was gone.
"It's probably the middle-aged woman over there," Hermione said excitedly, pointing to the end of the staff table.
As if in response, McGonagall announced, "I now have the pleasure of introducing the new head of Gryffindor house and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Hestia Jones. I myself with continue teaching Transfiguration. Please welcome your new professor."
Several dozen heads focused on a kindly looking woman sitting next to Professor Sinistra, who waved cheerily. "Thank you, now it is time to eat," McGonagall said curtly, seating herself back in her chair.
"Excellent," Ron said feverishly, piling his plate with mashed potatoes. "The house elves haven't banded up with You-Know-Who then. Though, if I were him, I wouldn't want that crazy lot anyway."
"That's not funny, Ron," said Hermione, who had always nursed a soft spot for house elves. "But that new professor, Jones, she's in the Order, isn't she?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "Listen, I think I'm going to have a talk with McGonagall at the end of the feast."
"Good idea, Harry," Hermione said approvingly. "I wonder who McGonagall assign as Head Boy and Head Girl instead of us, though. It had better not be that Parkinson girl."
"Don't you feel a bit sorry for her, though?" Harry said in mock sympathy, staring over to the Slytherin table where Pansy sat huddled between a group of Slytherin girls and Blaise Zabini.
"I wonder how Crabbe and Goyle are holding up, though," Ron said, as he stabbed a piece of turkey with his knife.
"I expect old Voldemort's made them Deatheaters just like Draco," Harry said bitterly, eating the last of his pot roast.
"Those two?" joined in Ginny, seating herself beside Harry. "If they were the new generation of Deatheaters, I'd say we have nothing to worry about."
Harry choked on his broccoli. "We?"
"Yeah, we," Ginny said, staring all three of them down, "don't think that I won't ever be of any use."
"We don't mean it that way, Gin," Hermione said gently. "Maybe if - "
"Harry turns into a headless parrot," Ron finished, his ears turning red. "It's too dangerous, Ginny, you can't come with us."
"Oh really, Ronald?" said Ginny pointedly. "I didn't say I wanted to come. But, you know, there are a few dozen people in this school that are dying to help you, so don't act like you three just have to operate alone." The rest of Gryffindor was now looking rather intently upon them, some nodding in agreement.
Harry looked determinedly at his empty plate. "I think I'll go talk to McGonagall now, then."
"Oh," Hermione said, forgetting their original purpose. "Right, I'll come with you."
Ron seemed unable to escape his younger sister's glare. "Er … me too … McGonagall."
The three rushed wildly over to the staff table, in a manner rather undignified for seventh years. McGonagall, who always disapproved of such behavior, raised a questioning eyebrow as Ron nearly tripped on his own robes. "Sorry, Professor, er, Headmistress," Harry said, as McGonagall took bite-sized bites from her pumpkin pie.
"Yes, Potter?" McGonagall said, peering at the three of them throw her square spectacles.
"I made arrangements, kind of, with, er … Dumbledore, last term," Harry said, trying to ignore the fact that Dumbledore was no longer around.
"Yes, Potter, Albus did inform of these items before he left," McGonagall said wearily. Harry was almost sure that he saw the slightest hint of a tear in the corner of her eye.
"And er, that means, I suppose, that Hermione and I will have to turn in our badges," said Harry, taking his badge out of his robes. Hermione made strangled noise, as though she wasn't quite ready to part with her badge yet.
"We will discuss that matter later," McGonagall said. "I want you three to first be settled in your dorms. You will meet me tomorrow morning at eight o' clock in my office. The password will be Feraverto" The finality in her voice told Harry that their brief conversation was over. He, Ron, and Hermione returned to their seats while half the student population looked on eagerly.
The scene in the Gryffindor common room was somewhat more somber and empty than it had been in previous years. Most of the students retreated to their dormitories without a word, though some lingered quietly in the common room, as though hoping to have a word with Harry themselves. The next morning, after Ron shook Harry awake, the three gathered in the Gryffindor common room at ten till eight to make their way to McGonagall's office. "Will she be in Dumbledore's office, now?" Hermione said uncertainly, as she lifted up the portrait hole with some difficulty (the Fat Lady was still snoring).
"I suppose," Harry shrugged. It would be very strange to see the office inhabited by anyone but Dumbledore. What Harry feared most, however, was seeing Dumbledore's portrait on the wall- a true confirmation that he had passed away. Harry led the way to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the headmaster's office. "Feraverto," he muttered, signaling for Ron and Hermione to join him on the stairs.
McGonagall's office was surprisingly similar to Dumbledore's, though noticeably neater. Dumbledore's portrait, along with those of the other past headmasters and headmistresses, slept soundly against the wall. "Professor McGonagall?" Hermione said, calling out timidly into the void. An orange cat that had been sleeping on the chair disappeared, and was replaced by a wide-awake McGonagall.
"Very well, Ms. Granger," said McGonagall. "I was just talking to Professor Jones and Professor Flitwick about the appropriate charm for the three of you." Jones and Flitwick emerged from the back of the room, both smiling benevolently at them. "We believe that the Imernia Charm will do, for our purposes."
"Oh!" Hermione said, looking distinctly impressed. Harry and Ron, not wishing to look entirely stupid, nodded tentatively.
"As you may know," Professor McGonagall said, though she seemed to think that Harry and Ron did not know, "the Imernia Charm is a complex spell that allows one to call for assistance merely by thinking."
Professor Flitwick nodded excitedly, squeaking, "I'll also add an extra piece that will summon assistance should anyone be knocked out."
"Not that it will happen, of course," Professor Jones added kindly.
"Right," Harry said, slightly relieved that he would not be empty-handed.
"One of you must merely spell out in your mind 'Help me' and the nearest seven members of the Order will Apparate immediately. Unfortunately, it is one time use only, but I believe that will be sufficient in itself." McGonagall instructed. "Now, if you will please stand here, Professor Flitwick will cast the charm."
Harry nodded cautiously, stepping forward. "Imernia Imotasia," Flitwick squealed, waving his wand in a rather complicated manner. Harry felt a tingling sensation, which disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, please," McGonagall said. Harry watched as the charm was performed two more times. "As wizarding adults, I expect you to behave as such. Potter, I understand that Albus has already informed you of the mission." Harry nodded. "Very well. I wish you all good luck."
"Please, Professor," Hermione said, raising her hand. "Harry and I still haven't turned in our badges."
"Oh," McGonagall said, her eyebrows rising again. "You may keep those. I daresay you'll need something to remind you of Hogwarts." A moment later, she, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Jones were gone.
"Is that it, then?" Ron said, staring around at the empty office. "So, where are we going, again?"
