It's All Your Fault Lord Voldemort

By TwinEnigma


Chapter Two:

Of baby Dark Lords and minds...

Frustration and anger lanced through Harry's mind, bathed in the despair of utter, consuming loss. It took him a moment to realize that in his surprise he'd let his mental shields fall and left his connection to Voldemort wide open. Quickly, he tried to clear his mind and force the barriers closed again – a much more difficult task now that the Dark Lord was in an emotional state. Struggling a bit, he finally managed to raise his mental shields and the noise in his head slipped into nothing.

"Harry, are you all right? You look pale," Hermione said, leaning down.

Professor Snape was issuing instructions to the other students nearby, mostly orders to continue stirring their potions mixed with unnecessary reminders about the rather unstable nature of the potion. He knelt and stared at the transformed Dark Lord and then at the orange substance still covering the crumpled robes. "Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy: please fetch several empty vials from my desk, some tongs and the leather satchel in the uppermost drawer. I'm not going to risk touching the remnants of Potter's potion until I know how it works."

The two of them nodded and went to gather the things he'd requested.

"For now, I'm going to assume it activates on skin contact," Snape said, grimacing again. "Be careful not to get any of it on you."

Harry stared at the Potions Master. "What about him?" he asked, pointing at the currently infant Voldemort.

The transformed Dark Lord had stopped crying and was now fixing the irritable professor with a very angry glare, as if to demand 'That's right! What about me?'

Snape's lip curled as he fixed the baby with a cool glare. "Forgive me, my lord, but you will need a bath. We must get any residual traces of the potion off of you." It was impossible to determine whether he was smiling or sneering.

Voldemort, if at all possible, looked even more cross than before.

Hermione and Malfoy returned with the professor's supplies at that moment, hastening to get them to him. Snape took the satchel immediately and spoke again, "Malfoy, you help me gather samples of Potter's potion. Granger, you and Potter have the task of bathing our young friend. I suggest you get out your dragonhide gloves."

Harry sighed and pocketed the Dark Lord's wand. He found his bag on the floor nearby and, much to his relief, there wasn't a single drop of the potion on it. Getting out the dragonhide gloves and putting them on, he turned back and inwardly groaned. If anyone had asked him what he was going to be doing in his seventh year, he would have never in a million years remotely suspected that he'd be giving an infant Voldemort a bath. He knew he'd never hear the end of it from his classmates, least of all Malfoy.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said, sighing as she carefully approached the transformed Dark Lord. "Help me get him to the sinks."

Malfoy glared at her as she narrowly missed hitting him in the head with her leg and snarled, "Watch where you're stepping, Granger!"

"Certainly, Malfoy," she replied, grinning wickedly, and made a point to step on his hand before leaning down to carefully pick the baby out from the pile of vastly oversized robes.

Almost immediately, Voldemort wailed and began struggling against her grip.

The Amazing Malferret cursed under his breath and gingerly rubbed his sore hand for a moment before going back to work.

"Hand him to me, 'Mione," Harry said, sighing. "I think he's still got a thing against muggleborns."

Hermione's eyes flashed. "You'd think he'd have a little more respect now that he's completely reliant on the kindness of others." As she finished, she glared directly at the small figure in her hands.

Amazingly, the transformed Dark Lord looked slightly intimidated by her rather pointed statement and all too gladly let himself be handed over to Harry.

"Get a move on, Potter!" Snape growled, looking up from where he was scraping the potion off a corner of Voldemort's robes.

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed again, "Yes, professor." With that, he reluctantly marched over to the sinks and let Hermione turn on the water.

Hermione paused a moment to test the water temperature and, satisfied, she indicated that he should put the baby in the sink. "Well, it looks like this year is going to be plenty interesting, Harry," she said quietly as she picked up the soap and started to scrub the baby.

"This is the last thing I expected to be doing on my first day of classes!" Harry replied and took a moment to roll up his sleeves.

An amused grin appeared on Hermione's face. "Somehow, I doubt this was part of his plans either."

The transformed Dark Lord scowled at her, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Well, it's all his fault, you know," Harry said, grabbing another bar of soap.

Instantly, the baby turned and glared at him murderously.

"Oh, stop it, Voldemort," he muttered, unfazed. "You were the idiot who decided to come and kill me during Snape's NEWT level Potions class, so you completely deserve what you got."

Hermione stifled a giggle at the stunned and somewhat flummoxed look on the transformed Dark Lord's face.

"Close your eyes," Harry ordered, raising the soap. "You don't want soap in them."

With an indignant huff, the transformed Dark Lord closed his eyes and scrunched up his face so that they could scrub his face and hair. If he had been a normal baby, this would have been quite adorable, but just knowing that this baby had been one of the most notorious Dark Lords in recent history up until ten minutes ago was enough to replace any thought of 'cute' with 'highly disturbing.'

"Ok, I think that should just about do it. Let's rinse him off," Hermione said, putting down the soap. Taking off a glove, she drew her wand and held it at ready.

Harry nodded and lifted his infant-shaped nemesis out of the now very soapy water. "Ready when you are, 'Mione."

With a swish and flick of her wand, Hermione created a gentle column of water that efficiently rinsed away the soap and disappeared. Quickly, she took off her tie and transfigured it into a towel, which she wrapped around the transformed Dark Lord before he even got the opportunity to fuss about it.

It was right about this time that the headmaster finally arrived at the classroom, his wand drawn as though he expected to be entering a battle. Instead, Dumbledore was greeted with a strangely calm classroom of unharmed students, sufficiently restrained Death Eaters, and the rather unusual sight of a fussing baby being held by the Boy-Who-Lived. "Professor Snape, I was under the impression that you were in need of assistance," the headmaster managed, finally spotting the irate professor.

"Yes, I'll need those Death Eaters out of my classroom as soon as possible," Snape replied acidly. "How can I be expected to teach with criminals crowding my classroom? It's barbaric, that's what it is."

Dumbledore nodded, ignoring the acerbic commentary, and gave the room another quick scan. "Where is Voldemort, Severus?"

"Potter's got him. Oh, and if you see any orange slime, don't touch it!" Snape pointed out, capping a vial of said orange substance.

Somewhat perplexed, the headmaster approached the sinks and the rather unusual trio standing before them. Hermione, looking quite frazzled, ceased trying to dry off the crying baby in her best friend's arms and marched off to check on her potion.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, noting that the Dark Lord instantly stopped crying. Unfortunately, Voldemort had also decided to grab onto him as tightly as he could, something that was causing the poor Gryffindor a considerable amount of pain.

Dumbledore put away his wand and looked curiously from the baby to the seventh year and back again. "And I suppose this is Voldemort?"

Harry nodded, wincing as the transformed Dark Lord tightened his grip.

The headmaster paused a moment and then smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Well, Tom, you look amazingly young for a man of seventy. You hardly look a day over six months."

If looks could kill, Dumbledore should have been nothing more than a pile of smouldering ash, so great was Voldemort's anger towards him.

"Um, sir, he can still understand us," Harry said and shifted his grip a bit, hoping to get the Dark Lord to let go or at the very least loosen his grip a little.

Dumbledore nodded as though he'd expected as much and, with a very serious look at Harry, he asked, "Is the connection between the two of you still active?"

"Yes, professor," Harry replied. Somehow he got the distinct feeling that he was not going to like whatever the headmaster had in mind.

Voldemort seemed to share this sentiment, clutching even tighter to Harry than before.

The headmaster twiddled the end of his beard a moment. "Boys, would you be willing to let down your shields just enough that you can communicate between one another?"

Harry stared at the old man, now firmly convinced he was utterly off his rocker.

"Now, I'm not asking either of you to go completely off guard," Dumbledore continued. "But you both must understand that it is necessary that this situation be resolved as quickly as possible! Harry, you have your NEWTs to study for and, Tom, I'm sure you want to get right back to your scheming before either Lucius or Bellatrix take over."

That seemed to get the transformed Dark Lord's attention and he hastily released Harry from his deathgrip. The baby looked up at his hated enemy and seemed to be pleading for something... or maybe it was a pout. Harry wasn't too familiar with babies and, as long as his mental shields were in place, he couldn't be certain of what the Dark Lord really wanted to convey.

Seeing as he wasn't getting the response desired, Voldemort reached up and firmly yanked on Harry's tie.

Harry instantly gagged, accidentally dropping his mental shields again.

"Now that I have your attention, Potter," the Dark Lord's voice snapped through his mind. "Tell that blithering idiot Snape that he will get started on a counter-potion this instant if he truly values his life!"

"Well?" Dumbledore prodded.

Harry yanked his tie from the transformed Dark Lord's hand and glared at the headmaster. "He's angry, as you can imagine, and wants to be restored as soon as possible."

"I see," the headmaster said thoughtfully and then looked to the Potions Master. "Severus, how soon might you be able to brew an antidote to this mystery potion?"

Snape, having just finished collecting another sample, seemed to have entered an even fouler mood. "I am uncertain... However, it would go much faster if you stopped wasting my time by asking me such insipid questions and let me do my job!" he finished with a roar and stomped out of the classroom, presumably heading for his office.

"Well, I'm afraid you'll be staying with us a while, Tom," Dumbledore sighed. Then, a smile slowly broke on his face. "Lemon drop, anyone?"

Voldemort started to howl, while Harry shot the headmaster a scathing glare that he hope conveyed both his and his archenemy's collective wish to tell the old man exactly where he could shove those stupid candies.

"AND KEEP STIRRING THOSE POTIONS!" Snape yelled from the hallway.


AN: Poor poor Harry. I obviously started writing this before book 6, but what the heck... sometimes AU is so much more fun. Snape was an absolute hoot to write and Dumbledore... well, I think I got his personality well captured. Lemon drop, anyone? Now, excuse me. I must go practice my German. Reviews will be used to fuel my muses, who are shameless addicts to attention.