AN: I apologize to those reading this that it has taken so long for me to update. Unfortunately, my TNBC phase did not last through to the second chapter, so I am writing this with a little less inspiration and more on a desire to complete it than anything else. I thank you for your patience. I happen to be a rather slow worker. Thank you to the three who have reviewed since my story's posting. Your words are highly encouraging and have spurred my hands into typing action (Though I should be in bed). I realize that this crossing is of rare occurrence, which is why I chose it. Now on with the fic. Enjoy.

The Dark Lord's Nightmare

Chapter Two

Voldemort was not a happy camper, as was obvious to his inner circle as he paced the stone floor of the headquarters basement. When Voldemort was not happy, no one was happy. It was an unwritten rule. As to the reason for their Lord's foul mood, well that was any death eater's guess. Voldemort himself knew all too well the source of his displeasure. Where were those blasted underlings he had sent for a simple summoning ritual? Okay, so the ritual was not exactly simple. It consisted of some of the most difficult incantations the wizarding world had ever produced. So much could go wrong... that was why he had sent his best ritualists! Then where were they? Did he have to do everything himself? Incompetents surrounded him! Surely, he could successfully summon his desired dead spirit. If he could wage a war all on his lonesome he wouldn't have risen an army!

In the midst of his silent tantrum, the arrival of his most cleverly placed spy Severus Snape, called his attention. Hopefully, he brought good news of that old codger Dumbledore's flaming chickadee club. Collecting himself, the Dark lord Voldemort motioned Severus forward. Snape knelt before him submissively as he recited his message. Ah, how he enjoyed staring at the backs of these fools he called his servants... Now was neither the time nor the place. 'Pay attention you crazed snake!' he mentally hissed to himself with a good imaginary kick. Snape was just finishing with the pleasantries when he snapped back into reality.

"My Lord, The Order of The Phoenix has captured your prize. During the summoning of the dead spirit, the ritualists lost their lives. Still, the spell succeeded, and now they have the summoned held in the dungeons of Hogwarts in the hopes of questioning it. Shall I bring it to you sire?" drawled the potions master.

Voldemort thought over the situation. His best ritualists were dead, his dead spirit with the order... How could he work this to his advantage? This thought process was brief, for within moments he had calculated a most devious plan. It was not the best plan he had constructed, but it could prove most entertaining executed correctly.

"That will not be necessary Severus. Our little friend may remain where he is for the time being. I would like to see how his stay plays out. However, I want you to keep a close eye on him and all activity that concerns him. I am relying on you to be my eyes and ears within Hogwarts more than ever. Do not disappoint me Snape. You may go."

With the slightest wave of his hand, he dismissed Severus. Unlike his other followers, Snape glided from the room gracefully. He liked that. It meant he trusted Voldemort with his life. He could count on that kind of loyalty. It was why Severus was included in his inner circle. If he ever dared to call anyone a friend, it would be Severus Snape. Nevertheless, it would not be as much fun if he commanded total loyalty from all of his followers. He needed someone to torture when prisoner numbers ran low.

--

Snape returned to Hogwarts puzzled by his Lord's behavior. Voldemort was not usually the sit-back-and-watch kind. Who was he to question orders? Going into the dungeons, he noticed that their deceased guest was not alone. Dumbledore and half the order were in there with him. 'I wonder what developments have been made since I left.' thought Snape as he entered the creature's cell. The skeletal figure was even more disturbing in the dreary light. It stood so straight and tall it could only have been of noble blood while living and held an air of awe about it. This spirit held unspeakable secrets and power in its bony fingers. No wonder Voldemort wanted him so badly.

"Am I interrupting something Headmaster?" he inquired as he stopped to stand beside the elder wizard, watching the skeleton all the while.

Albus smiled, eyes twinkling, and replied without bothering to turn and face him. All his attention was transfixed on their freakishly skinny guest.

"Not at all, Severus. I was just having a small chat with our guest here. I do not think I will get much further until we are alone. Now, if you all don't mind..." his voice trailed off, signaling the moment of departure for the rest of the cell's inhabitants.

Sluggishly they filed out, grumbling. They wanted to know why Dumbledore was so interested in a dead spirit. Once they were alone, Jack relaxed slightly. All those people had been staring at him, making him a bit tense and rather jumpy. He liked having an audience, but to command such total attention was disconcerting. Something was going on; something big that he felt concerned the life he could not remember. Everyone in Halloweentown knew that it would be unthinkable to remember life. How could they be expected to move on with memories of the past weighing them down? Little to his or his host's knowledge, a certain potions master was hovering beyond the heavy wooden door.

"Now then, Jack Skellington was it? Would you be so kind as to tell me what exactly you meant when you said you were the Pumpkin King?" asked the aged headmaster in his favorite grandfatherly fashion.

Unfortunately, that was not going to work on Jack. He may not remember his life, but he was wise (and a year older than Dumbledore). His guard was not going to be let down so easily. Even so, Jack felt the man's question deserved an answer. What could it hurt? It was not as if he was telling him where Halloweentown was.

"Of course, I meant that I am the ruler of Halloweentown." replied Jack. It was simple, frustratingly so. Albus knew there was more to it, but Jack was determined to give him condensed, precise answers. Smart lad, for a skeleton.

"I do not recall ever having heard of a Halloweentown." he mused, stroking his long white beard thoughtfully. Jack just smiled.

"Well you wouldn't really. Only the people living there know it even exists." said Jack, answering the implied question with another truthful and vague reply. If this old mortal sought to outwit him, he was going to have a difficult time of it.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. He felt so old and tired all of a sudden. It was clear Jack did not remember him. However, the conversation sparked old and cobwebbed memories for him. He and his best friend had often held contests of wit. One would try to pry the other for information while the interrogated would answer with as little information as possible. Albus had always been the interrogator, and he always lost. Why did he expect this time to be any different? Despite the circumstances, little had changed. Jack in the meantime grew perplexed by his questioner's odd behavior and methods. It was clear something was weighing down on his mind. He had lapsed into a lengthened silence, deep within his own thoughts. Jack could not help but think the old one was thinking about him. 'How am I going to learn anything if he doesn't trust me like he once did? I know he would have told me everything while he was alive. Perhaps... It is frowned upon... It may be the only way to get through to him. I must try.' thought the aged headmaster. Jack knew he had come to some form of decision when he saw his captor's eyes light up with a new resolve and determination. A voice in the back of his skull told him he was in for a surprise if he did not escape now.

"Listen, if you will. I need to go back. You must understand, I do not belong here. You don't know how important it is." he reasoned as he slowly backed away from the wizard who was advancing at the same pace. Even as he said it he knew the man wasn't listening.

"I'm sorry Jack." Albus murmured, raising his wand. The skeleton barely heard him as the spell hit him full force.

The inhuman shriek that escaped the spirit was unlike anything any of the wizarding world had heard before, and it was loud enough to fill the castle and spread over half of Hogwarts' grounds. Faint echoes were heard as far as Hogsmeade, like an eerie whispering wind. All the while Albus wondered if he was doing the right thing. Jack Skellington was in a great deal of pain. His skull felt like it was split open with an axe. Images flashed through his brain in electric pulses. Names and faces, events, places... all the memories he had forgotten. His hands pressed to the sides of his head as his face contorted in agony. His spine curved back unnaturally far until Dumbledore thought it would snap in two. All he could do was watch, as every living moment of Jack's old life forced its way back into his mind in a massive tsunami. Merlin, how he hoped Jack might forgive him.

AN: Ha! Another cliffy! I know, how cruel can I be? Nope, this is it for chapter two. Do not worry. I hope to get chapter three up much faster than this one. Right now, the power is out and I want to save the laptop battery. So until next time, Ja ne!