Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that HP is not mine.

Warning: M for slash (HP/TMRLV), Post-GoF, slightly insane and definitely dark Harry

Draco Malfoy paced back and forth across the room. His parents had been on edge lately and he could guess why.

The Dark Lord.

The Wizarding World fell into chaos when Harry Potter said that Lord Voldemort was back. Most witches and wizards called Potter a liar but Draco was not an idiot. He could see the signs before him. He knew something big was going to happen.

A storm was brewing and he didn't expect the calm to last long.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was worried for dear Harry. The Dark Lord was back and it was time to reinstate the Order. He wouldn't tell the boy yet, of course. Harry was still too young, too delicate. He would have to forbid Harry's friends to divulge information. There was no need for him to know more than what he needs to know. The teenager might get carried away and do something rash, something dangerous but endearingly Gryffindor. His Golden Boy need not be stressed out. Let him bask in love and peace, for that is all he would need to defeat the evil Dark Lord. And if he did not listen to Dumbledore…

Albus chuckled happily, blue eyes ever-twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.

Harry always listened. The mere thought of him not listening to the Headmaster was laughable. He was such a sweet boy. Warm, friendly and extremely modest.

The perfect pawn.

Albus Dumbledore knew best and those who didn't agree with him obviously needed a little push to the right direction. After all, everything the old wizard did was for the greater good.

Harry James Potter returned to Number 4 Privet Drive exhausted. The tournament, the meeting with the Dark Lord, the mass obliviate, the damage control, the traumatized-boy act, the slander and libel, and the long train ride home all had taken their toll on him. He just wanted to hibernate all throughout the summer if it was possible.

But he had things to do and he was finally, at least temporarily, out of the Headmaster's claws.

He pressed the doorbell and stood still for a few seconds before the door opened. He immediately went in and eyed the inhabitants of the house.

"Welcome home, Harry," Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley chorused in flat voices.

"Thank you, dear Uncle, Aunt, and cousin," Harry replied in a sing-song voice.

His relatives appeared gaunt and soulless, more like Azkaban inmates rather than a muggle suburban family, except Sirius was a former inmate and he looked far better than the Dursleys. His Uncle and cousin specially had been fat cows in the past, but thanks to him, they had "thinned down" quite spectacularly.

He smiled cruelly at his blank-eyed relatives and asked, "Have you missed me?"

"Yes, Harry," they chorused again.

"Would you like dinner?" Petunia inquired.

"I am quite knackered, actually. I'll eat tomorrow morning," Harry said as he climbed the stairs up to his room to sleep. "Bring my things to the storage room," he added in a yawn at the male Dursleys.

Vernon and Dudley carried his luggage in their mouths like the dogs they were. Harry had cut their arms when he was four years old to "save space." Apparently, cutting their arms off had been a great idea because they also started eating less, providing Harry with more food. Not a year had passed before both Vernon and Dudley were almost as thin as Petunia.

They stored his belongings in the adjacent room. Then, like marionettes, they jerkily returned downstairs. Upon receiving no further orders from Harry, the Dursleys returned to their room, the three of them squeezed together like sardines in the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry, meanwhile, sank into a dreamless sleep in the largest room in the house, his Aunt and Uncle's former bedroom.

His last conscious thought was 'It's good to be home.'

Lord Voldemort was in a foul mood and even the densest Death Eaters noticed that something was wrong. He had been throwing the Cruciatus like candies at Halloween.

More than a week had passed and the Potter boy was still nowhere in sight. His answers remained unanswered and he was so frustrated at being practically clueless that he almost went to Potter himself to demand answers. Then he remembered how Potter had acted and he felt justified with his temper. The boy might be powerful, but he was too untamed to join the Death Eaters. Yes, the boy observed proper courtesy, but once given a bit of independence, he had gone a bit over the top.

And the boy was too bloody insolent!

Stoirm, hah! Once he had gone back to Riddle Manor, it struck him that Potter might not be pertaining to the standard "storm," but the Irish "stoirm," which means the same but had an extra letter. When he realized this, he instantly knew that the boy had been mocking Tom's self-given name, the anagram of his birth name. Voldemort meant "Flight from Death" and the brat's chosen alias was an anagram of Mortis, which was Latin for "Death." The insolent little shit had insinuated that he, Lord Voldemort, flees from Harry Bloody Potter! He, the most powerful Dark Lord that existed in centuries!

Simply remembering made him want to go on a rampage.

His musings were put to a stop when Wormtail scurried in, shaking in fear.

"What?" he sharply asked, his temper getting the best of him.

"M-my Lord. Po-Potter is outside," he whimpered.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and turned his back on Wormtail.

Wormtail only saw the back of his master and the casual wave of his hand as he said, "Let him in."

"B-but it's Potter, my Lord!"

Voldemort turned sharply around to face Wormtail.

"Did you not hear me, Wormtail?" he slowly asked in a low voice.

"I-I d-did, my Lord. I'm sorry, my Lord," Wormtail squeaked before backing out of the room.

Voldemort sat regally on his chair; legs crossed and hands interlaced on top of his right knee. He smiled cruelly as his serpentine face morphed into a 20-year-old Tom Riddle.

Potter, or Stoirm as he fancy himself called, would now seriously be unable to get out of here until Lord Voldemort's curiosity had been satisfied.

He smiled wider. This should be fun.

A/N: Erm, I'm dragging things out, aren't I? *sighs* I apologize. This story isn't very solid in my mind yet. I'm still trying to tie things up xD