I look at the letter I have ignored for so long, clutching it so tightly the edges curl. I've read it more than once, more than a dozen times. It still makes no sense at all.
Harry Potter,
I am sure you find yourself shocked, disgusted, and perhaps afraid when you see that you have received a letter from one such as myself. Do feel so, if you wish, though emotions are what keep you weak. Pliant. Don't allow yourself to feel anything at all, if you wish to overcome weakness.
Potter, I have discovered that you belong to me in a way that-complicates things. It leaves it impossible for me to allow you to continue on with your studies at Hogwarts the way you have in years past. You are a part of me, and I you. It is a curious thing that I have discussed at length with my knowledgeable followers that are unwavering in their loyalty.
I suppose you are shocked that I consult with others. Perhaps your image of me is flawed, having been filtered through the beady eyes of one Albus Dumbledore.
The reaction of our wands in the graveyard was due to a connection between us that cannot be denied, or undone, without terrible injury to us both.
You will report to me, and me alone, constantly throughout the year. You may not inform Albus Dumbledore or any of his colleagues of anything that I tell you, that you tell me privately, or anything involving me at all without my explicit permission.
Include these sentences as an oath, signed with the blood quill included in this letter. It will make the oath binding.
Pain is but a means to glorious victory,
Lord Voldemort
My fingers grip the bit of now folded parchment I hold. Voldemort sent me a letter. A letter with no perceivable poisons in it or curses on it. A simple, seemingly harmless letter.
Does he think I'll just bend to his will? He's a madman,a murderer. A wounded soul. Why would I want to let him keep tabs on me? What should I do about this? The first thing Hermione would say is that I should tell Dumbledore. Failing that, she would hole herself up in the library. But Dumbledore doesn't care about me. No one cared enough to tell me what was happening to me. Me! If they cared, maybe someone might have noticed that fucking Voldemort thinks I belong to him and is sending me letters, and is WINNING ME OVER. He cares a hell of a lot more than anyone else. I'm disturbed by the letter, disturbed that he thinks I won't hesitate in answering him. And yet, what would happen if I didn't? No one's told me. As though my sensitive, child ears couldn't take any scary words about the bad man who wants to hurt me. Hurt me? I look down at the parchment again. Voldemort has tried repeatedly to kill me.
Is this a new tactic of his? Make nice with the Boy Hero time?
I can't help but wish for peace. A normal life in the Wizarding world where my only worry was my grades, just like every fucking body else. That would be nice. But no. The quill sits in between my legs. A blood quill. I don't know what it will do, but I know it won't be good. Binding. Bound to Voldemort. Chains and whips and leashes flash through my mind. And wedding rings. I blush. I know that I shouldn't be doing this, that I should tell someone, anyone, but I want to feel reckless for once. I want to know something no one else but me knows, and I want to get to the bottom of this madness. I place the blood quill against the page without a quiver in my hand, scratch my name across the paper (wincing slightly), and I am bound. I use a regular quill for the rest of the missive and for Voldemort's quill inside of it. I hope to never use it again. I tie it securely to Hedwig's leg and Simon a bandage.
"Hedwig, I hope you don't find trouble. Take this to," I lower my voice, "Voldemort."
I press the bandage against my bleeding hand. Without hesitation she flies away. It's almost like she was waiting to fly away to him the entire time.
oOoOoOo
I lay on the bed I've claimed as my own. Someone will wonder where I am soon, or fetch me to help clean something or another. Fishing my elbows off of the bed, I set about actually replying to Voldemort.
You have a point, if a disturbing one. I can no longer claim the side of the Light. But even so, the Dark does not quite suit me, not with the way your followers have shown it. Perhaps I am a mix of the best parts of both. Is it so wrong to fancy myself Grey? I don't think so. Truly, I am. But I am not neutral, no. I have aligned myself with you, for better or worse.
I've forgiven you. And believing what you've told me about Dumbledore, I cannot forgive him. And in return for your information on the old man and his plots, I admit I regret not choosing Slytherin. I regret not shaking Draco Malfoy's hand all those years ago. Perhaps we could have been friends, perhaps- He is quite beautiful, in a sense. But, nevermind that.
I don't know how to address you. It feels strange to write so casually the name you have chosen, and entirely too bizarre to write your other name.
I hear footsteps on the stairs. It would be too suspicious to send it off in a flurry now, and I'll get more time if they believe I'm writing a love letter, so thank you for the ten extra minutes of freedom and feel free to disregard the following.
My love, I write to you, the dearest flower of my heart-
I sigh heavily, as though my ideas aren't coming together correctly.
"Ginny, do you mind not reading over my shoulder?" I say.
"Who is that to?" she asks, wrinkling her nose.
I look away from her as if hiding a blush, grateful that I thought to cover the actual letter with my arm.
"It's a secret," I say.
"Mum'll be delighted. I hope he's nice. But honestly, that 'flower of my heart' bit is kind of overdoing it," she says.
I scoff.
"He-who-is-none-of-your-business is a refined man. To say any less is to devalue him!" I say.
She laughs. I almost fail to keep a straight face. She stands by the door and makes a big show of being busy.
-to tell you that I have devoted myself entirely to your purpose.
My hand shakes as a laugh as quietly as possible, leaving a blot of ink on the paper. I form it into a heart.
-Please accept my feeble admirations and agree to court me.
She's gone but I'll send this as it is. I wouldn't like to leave it lying around long enough to learn how to get ink off of parchment, lest the minions of the Light discover my allegiance or believe I'm gone over the moon for you.
Harry
I attach the letter to Hedwig and smile. Perhaps it is a bit off, to joke with Voldemort and switch sides, but it's my reality and I'm happy with it.
