Disclaimer: still don't own anything.
Summary: The dark Lord visits his old school. Date: 7th of August 1966.
Warnings: Dancing trolls ahead. (In other words: nothing special.)
Chapter 2: Before the request
The bells of the wall clock rang six times waking the man on the huge bed in the corner of the dark room.
It was damp and cool in there because the windows had been open the whole night during the storm. A withe hand appeared under the bed sheets holding a wooden stick. The pale hand seemed to glow in the twilight. It pointed the piece of wood on a dark damp fireplace and waved.
A crackling fire sprang to life in the old chimney just like it had been burning there for hours. The room became warm, bright and cozy only with the flick of the wand in the ebony colored hand.
A wand it must be, for it had produced magic.
It was nearly as white as the hand holding it. Although it was made of yew it looked suspiciously like bone.
A ruffle went through the sheets and a tall slim figure with black hair rose from the bed. His eyes glimmering red. He yawned.
What had he dreamed of this night? He knew it was a really strange dream. It had something to do with the Riddle manor and the Muggles he had killed there years ago. But what was it? He could not shake off the feeling that it had been important.
He shook his head.
Something important in a dream? What a stupid thought was that? So unlike him.
He got up. Done with thinking of stupid dreams, he focused his mind on more important matters, whilst he walked into the bathroom.
An hour later Voldemort had showered and eaten, ready to start a new day. Not thinking of any Muggle's houses or dreams anymore, he sat on the kitchen table, sipping the last bits of his coffee and reading the latest news in the "Daily Prophet". His thought wandering to the appointment he is going to attend today, which was in fact so important that he did feel a little bit nervous.
When the clock stroke eight times. Voldemort left through the entrance door and simply vanished into thin air.
Nearly at the same time he appeared out of nowhere in a street right before a shabby looking tavern. But he did not look at the house in front of him. His eyes were fixed upon a castle at the horizon, barely seen through the morning fog.
Finally he was here. Finally he was back. After all this time. A small smile appeared on his lips.
"My Lord, we have waited for you."
A blond haired young man waved at him and bowed slightly in respect.
"Ah. Good morning Avery. Are all here yet?
"All except Mulciber. He is running late again, I'm afraid." The man on the door looked down nervously.
Voldemort chuckled. Knowing fully well that the other one feared some kind of an outburst. But he was in a good mood today. So why not let it slip now. Mulciber will be sorry by the time he hears that his Lord had gotten what he tried to achieve since they all had left the school a long time ago. Smiling down on the other man, he entered the pub, patting him on the shoulder as he passed by, feeling with glee the flinch from the other man caused by his touch. "It's all right. I will speak to him later."
He looked around and saw his other three old schoolmates sitting at one of the round tables in the corner. When they spotted him, they all stood up and bowed simultaneously. The look in their eyes the same as it had been years before, a mixture of fear and admiration.
He strode to them and with a fluid movement set next to a bearded man whose black curls nearly reached his shoulders.
"It has been a while since we all sat together, my friends. Well? What news do you bring me?"
"My Lord,", the man with the curly hair beside him began: "I heard that on next Monday, Dumbledore will announce in the "Daily Prophet" that the post of the defense against the dark arts teacher as well as the post of the care of magical creatures teacher are both vacant."
Voldemort raised an eyebrow: "Care of magical creatures too?".
The other one lowered his gaze in respect:"Yes. Mr. Mandrake, the former teacher, had a little accident in India involving two mating dragons. I heard, he is still in St. Hildegard in Mumbai and will not return for the next school year."
"I see.", Voldemort mused.
A man with short red hair cleared his throat and the dark Lord fixed his gaze on him, watching the other man nervously drinking a sip of his butter beer with shaking hands.
The red eyes sparkled whilst his mouth curled into a grin, being aware of the impact this expression had, he asked: "Yes, Dolohov?"
The other one wiped the froth from his also red mustache:" My Lord, is it really necessary..., I mean... You are much better than every teacher there. You could be so much more. My Lord, a teacher, that is beneath you."
"So? Is it?", he smiled and waited. His gaze upon the redhead, he drew his wand, watching the eyes of the other one grew wide with horror. He started to inspect his wand, savoring the aura of fear coming from the other four men.
"Yes. Of course you are right, Dolohov. But there are important reasons. Reasons I need you- you all- to understand." He flicked his wand, causing the latter to flinch, who gasped for air and desperately grabbed at his throat: "As you all know, my friends, I intend to change the wizarding world and for that, I need men. Strong, intelligent young witches and wizards who are willing to dedicate their lives to this cause, like all of you did."
He watched Dolohov's face growing redder and redder. He waited for another five seconds, observing the struggling man, before he flicked his wand again, allowing the redhead to breath again.
"I also hope, they do use their brain more often than you do, Dolohov. It is not that you are dump, it is just that you do not think enough before you talk. A habit I wish you to change. It would be for your own good, don't you agree, my friend?"
Well, Dolohov was pretty dump. But he could not complain. You cannot expect to have the best men on your side from the beginning.
The other three laughed at the punishment of their companion. They were just as dump.
Maybe Lestrange was not, at least he was talented in gathering information.
Still gasping for air, the redhead answered in a humble voice:" Yes, my Lord, thank you for your advice, my Lord."
Rolling his eyes, Voldemort stood up. "I will go now. It is almost time."
The other four nodded, not daring to tell him that he had nearly two hours left until his interview with Dumbledore.
But there was something else on his mind too.
When he walked the old path up to the school, his mind wandered off to the halls and corridors he knew so well, up and up the staircases to the seventh floor. There, right in front of the stature of an old fool -he did not care to remember his name- lay his goal: the room of requirement. He put his hand into his robe, searching for the pocket containing the precious item he intended to hide there. He would never tell anyone about it. Not that he wanted to.
It was his fifth horcrux.
The making of this one had cost him a lot of energy. Why has it become harder to create them? Maybe he had created too many in too short a time? That could be the reason why he had felt so weak for nearly 6 months now. Strangely, when he had woken up earlier this morning, he had felt a lot stronger. His soul must have accepted his new status at last.
He looked up and came to a halt. The joy he felt rising in his chest was unlike anything he had felt in the last 20 years. He was finally home. He allowed himself to stand there for a few minutes taking in the sights and just feeling like his old self again.
His mood could not be better when he finally entered the impressive castle.
He walked the path to his destination, knowing the way as though it had only been yesterday that he had walked those halls. But he knew, even after a hundred or a thousand years, he will know every corner of this place, from the highest tower to the deepest and most secret dungeons.
He passed the place in front of a stature of an old mad looking wizard with three trolls in small skirts three times, whilst focusing his thoughts on one sentence:
I need a place to hide this object. I need a place to hide this object. I need a place to hide this object.
When he stopped, a door was where there had been a solid wall seconds ago and the tall black haired man entered without hesitation.
It took about ten minutes and the door opened again. Wearing a content smile, Lord Voldemort left the room of requirement and went down the hallway without glancing back once again. Not seeing the door vanish again.
The stature of Barnabas the Barmy blinked and looked at the wall on the opposite.
Just a normal wall, like it always had been.
He continued teaching his three troll students ballet.
Voldemort stood in the Dungeons breathing in the damp musty air and simply loving the memories it brought back.
"Good morning, Tom. You are very early."
He did not move at first, wanting to dwell in those old memories just for another few seconds. But then, with a sigh, he turned.
"Good Morning, Dumbledore. I haven't been here for so long, you sure understand I wanted to visit some old places."
The man with the white hair looked calmly over his half-moon shaped glasses: "I would not have expected anything else of you, Tom."
Feeling slightly nervous under the old man's knowing gaze, Voldemort cleared his throat:" Well, shall we start?"
"Of course. After all, this is the reason why you are here, is it not?", not breaking the eye contact, Dumbledore waved into the direction of the stairs: "Please after you, Tom. I assume you remember the way to my office?"
"Yes.", he passed the old man.
And some day, it will be mine.
Only an hour had passed when Voldemort left the castle. His predatory walk matching his furious face. He wanted to scream.
How could this old fool have declined him! It was always always Dumbledore who crossed his plans! The way he had looked at him when he had walked him out! Had this been triumph in this old eyes? How dare he decline him what he wanted, what should have been his twenty years ago! How dare he!?
Voldemort gritted his teeth. Dumbledore will pay for this. He will see to that personally.
After all, this old man cannot stop him. He can hold on to the old ways as much as he likes, but he cannot stop time, he cannot stop progress, and he most certainly cannot stop him!
He never will!
Reaching the old street to Hogsmeade, he paused. He did not want to go down there and tell those fools what had happened. He did not want to hear their false condolence.
He needed a place somewhat calm to ease his nerves.
And with that thought, Voldemort vanished a second time for that day.
I am bold now (haha).
Ok. That was a really bad joke but I want you to simply see the difference between the story and my babbling. I had planned something else for this chapter 'cause I need Voldemort to be upset and thoughtful for the next events and my first idea was: good old Dumbledore can see to that. So I changed some parts of the timeline (it is a fan-fiction after all) and let them meet for Voldemort's job-interview a little bit later than in cannon. And while I was writing this I thought " Oh, yeah he hid the horcrux" and "oh his pals had been in Hogsmeade" and that's why the next one will be from Severus' pov. instead of his. I try to take turns on them with each chapter but there might be some exceptions.
As you already noticed, the horcruxes will be in this story.
Well, thank you for reading.
:)
