Binaries

By BEWD Sorcerer

Disclaiming thingy: I do not own Harry Potter! I don't own Voldemort! I just string them up and play with them as puppets. Don't they dance so nicely?

AN: This is the second prologue type-chapter. One for Harry and then one for Voldie.

thoughts

"Out loud speech, English"

'Parseltongue'

:Link Speech: Note: not L33t speak

2. Early Stages of Denial

Tom Marvolo Riddle approaches someone in the Hogwarts library and sits down next to someone who looks shockingly like him.

"Our names are so plain." The other boy just smiles a little at this, continuing to work.

"Speak for yourself. Do you know any other Kierans? We didn't choose our names." Tom seems amused at the response.

"It's just… I've been trying to think of an alternative." Kieran looks up.

"What? Like a nickname or an anagram?" He continues working as Tom pulls out a piece of parchment that is completely covered in names, most of them crossed out.

"Not a nickname because nothing like that fits me and with anagrams the only things I'm coming up with are stupid like 'Tiddle Vom Roloram.' I want it to be significant." The other looks at Tom quizzically before digging around in his bag.

"Let's check my Language Dictionary." He pulls out a Muggle wireless notebook with a triumphant look, flipping it open and writing 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' on the first page, which appears blank, before he pulls out his wand and murmurs '/Anagram/' with a twitchy wave of his wand. Immediately words begin appearing down the lined paper and Kieran grins proudly at Tom, who just rolls his eyes and cuffs the other up side the head with a fond smile.

"Alright, so it is brilliant. Thanks, Kieran." The other boy cocks his head in a curious manner.

"We haven't even looked at the results yet." He seems amused as Tom shifts in a 'I'm a cold jerk but I've been caught being nice' kind of way. "Let's see here. You're right; these are all crap. Who'd want to call themselves 'Mev Lolodir Dotmar'? Uh-huh… Tiddle, Lolodir….. I am Tormloved Dorl. Me Dorvol Rilam Dot." Kieran snickers and Tom huffs.

"Do you think we'll find something that's not completely stupid?" The other dark-haired boy makes a non-committal noise, continuing to flip through the pages now filled with funky words.

"Ian? No, there's no 'n'. Iam? He he… No… I am… I am Lord… Lord what? I am Lord Tod Mevrol? Pffft! Volor Demt? Mort! You've got death in your name! I am Lord Mort Volde!" Kieran giggles at the dark look Tom's giving him.

"You're having too much fun with this." The other just gives him a bright smile, jotting down 'vol' on the first page and mutters '/meaning, any language/' waving his wand with the same twitchy wave.

" 'De' in Romantic languages means 'of', so if 'vol' mean something other than a small, burrowing rodent then we'll have you a good anagram!" He pauses, cocking his head to the side again. "It means flight or wing in French. So you could be: death of flight, death of wing, wing of death, or flight of death." Tom thinks for a moment then grins smugly.

"Flight of death sounds good; if I want to become the next dark lord, I'll consider it." Kieran grins broadly at Tom's sarcasm, putting the 'notebook' away.

"If it's outlandish enough for you, then Voldemort it is!" Tom looks thoughtful, but Kieran has a mischievous look on his face. "I can just see it. 'No running in the halls!' There you are chiding your followers for being reckless. What if they ran into each other and got hurt? 'Hold the battle! This one's got a scraped knee!' 'Excuse me, Dumbledore, no one can use any spell worse than a Tickling Charm.' Brilliant, Tom, just brilliant." Tom scowls, getting a haughty look on his face.

"Excuse me? If I were to attempt World Domination, Dumbledore'd be one of the first to go. All I'd have to do during the battle would be to offer him a poisoned lemon drop." Kieran is turning red from repressing his laughter. They are in a library after all.

"You're right. Why didn't Grindelwald think of that?" Tom snorts before answering.

"Probably because he was a – " He stops with a pained look on his face, but Kieran doesn't notice.

"He was a big-headed, cold-hearted jerk." He finally notices something is wrong and looks over to see blood dripping from Tom's nose. "Tom, what's wrong? Tom!" Tom shakes himself, returning to the present.

"What? What's going on?" Kieran pulls a handkerchief out of his bag.

"You've got a nose bleed. Here, use this." Tom takes the handkerchief, still a little dazed, and Kieran gathers up his stuff. "C'mon. You'd better see Madame Lindsey." Tom blinks slowly at Kieran, then passes out, hearing the other yelling his name.

Voldemort lays on his bed, staring up at the canopy blankly and wondering where that came from. He didn't know any Kierans. Why did he not remember any of this before now?

Could it be a plot to weaken him?

Why did Kieran look and sound so familiar? He had heard that voice just a few weeks ago. Where did he hear the voice? Wasn't it in the Ministry? The Atrium? But the only people who had been there were Dumbledore, Bellatrix, and the Potter boy.

It wasn't Dumbledore, obviously. He had been the Transfiguration teacher back then. Bellatrix is a female and her voice is all wrong. The Potter boy is far too young… though that could have been taken care of with a De-Aging Potion and any memories could be blocked by an Obliviate or any number of Dark Arts potions.

But who would want to create a Potter except Dumbledore? The fact that Dumbledore might use a Dark Arts potion… but he did mold Potter into a weapon.

Now he had to wonder if the Prophesy was even valid or if it was another effort to force Potter to accept his role as a tool.

Wait, why was he even pondering this? It's just a stupid dream that could be a possible plot against him. No worrying about the Potter boy and back to bed.

He turned over and closed his eyes, trying to banish the tightening in his chest when he thought of Dumbledore forcing potions down Kieran's throat. A tingle shuddered down the link between Harry and Voldemort. Harry was feeling confused and it gave Voldemort a headache.

"Shut up and go to bed, Potter. We don't need you keeping us up with your stupid worries." Voldemort forced himself to occlude his mind and slipped back into sleep.