Normal days
Reading a book about Dark Arts while his daughter devoured books on simple potions, Harry sat in his favourite big plush chair in the library.
Most of the authors had a decided "Dark is not Evil" point of view, and slowly, Harry had started to agree with them. Tactics weren't evil, and most "Dark" Spells and Rituals didn't have any negative side-effects he could see.
Horcruxes probably had, though, especially in combination with an already unstable mind. It was one of the more interesting pieces of magic Harry had found out about.
Casting the Cruciatus Curse was astonishingly easy, Harry had found. A first year could do it. Hell, Morgan could do it, though she was probably the most precocious child of her age.
Harry was thinking about writing a book himself, about the cutesy factor of little girls.
He smiled as he remembered yesterday.
"GRAMPA! AUNTIE BELLA!"
Morge was hugging them both. She always loved it if visitors besides her Grandpa came.
"UNCLE LUCY! YEAH! UNCLE LUCY! Are we gonna play dollies again?"
Despite the best efforts of Malfoy to correct her, the nickname had stuck. Likely because his Lord liked it, too.
Apart from the whole blackmail and how to educate Morgan issue, Harry and Tom got along surprisingly well. Their interaction was purely Slytherin, acting pleasantly and even forming an odd friendship while both of them knew and acknowledged the other would eradicate or hurt them should the opportunity and the need arise. In Harry's case, it was need without opportunity, in Tom's, opportunity without need.
It surprised Harry just how fast he'd turned from the Gryffindor Golden Boy into a Death Eater blackmailed into service that could go toe to toe with the best of Slytherin. He suspected that part of him always had been there, somehow.
"Or, no, I've got a better idea! We're gonna play dressup!"
Soon, all of them were in different layers of clothing.
"Dad, growl. Really growl."
"ROW!"
"Now, that's a dragon roar!"
Harry was playing the dragon. He supposed it could have been worse. The reason why he had gotten the role: You're fierce, Daddy, and protective, and very dragony!
He couldn't help but grin while playing. Partially, the reason were the other's roles.
"Okay, Auntie Bellatrix, swing your sword and shout something!"
"Why?"
"You're the knight, Auntie Bellatrix, you have to swing your sword and shout! That's what knights do! Besides, you make an excellent knight. You can shout really well, Auntie Bella!"
Any further comments on Bellatrix' part were silenced by a glare from her master that said "If I have to do this, then you have to, as well, or get crucio'd."
Bellatrix swung her sword and shouted some barely coherent words.
Apparently coherent enough for Morgan.
"Bloody damn hell! What does that mean, 'bloody damn hell'?"
"You shouldn't repeat these words, Morgan", the Dark Lord said.
"Grandpa! In role!"
"You should not repeat these words, sweetie-pie", the Dark Lord fluted, acting remarkably like an insane old woman, which was good, because he had been forced into the role of the grandmother by one pout and a puppy-dog look of Morgan. Harry could have sworn her power of being cute, something that all little girls possessed, had been magically enhanced somehow.
"Do I really have to do this?", Malfoy asked.
"Yes!", the rest of them chorused.
"Pretty please, Uncle Lucy!"
Malfoy looked like he'd wanted to crucio somebody.
"But why do I get this role?"
"Because you have pretty hair." Yep, Malfoy really wanted to crucio somebody right now.
A glare from the "grandmother" convinced him to say his line.
"Oh, rescue me, my prince! I am naught but a helpless princess, forced into this tower by this fierce dragon!"
Harry bit on his lip. Don't start laughing, don't start laughing, don't start laughing... You're in the same situation. But you're not a princess, a part of his mind whispered. Dragons are much, much better.
"That was well done, Uncle Lucy. You really make a great princess!"
He, Tom and Bella shared a look. Then, they burst out laughing.
"Did I say something funny?"
Harry smiled as he remembered yesterday. Lucy the Princess would forever be burned into his mind.
Maybe he'd write a book, too, one day. The most important paragraph:
"One of the most important and underestimated powers is the power of cutesy, especially common in little girls. It can get Dark Lord to play dollies and Dark Minions to dress up like a princess. Puppy dog looks and pouts by someone with this power are much more difficult to defend against than the Imperius curse."
He opened the next page of the book he was reading.
"There is, of course, the Ritual called 'Making'. It is, in fact, capable of making new humans by mixing the blood of at least two others into the potion, whose recipe is on the next few pages. The mixture and amount determines the relationship, which is, indeed, recognized by magic. Someone whose blood has been used in the Making will feel a familial bond to the child made, something that can be used in various ways. There have been some rather interesting experiments with this Ritual. Some variations can bring different results than just a normal child, for example, the intelligence can be influenced, the magical power, specific talents in the family line can be switched on and off, and some rather strange powers can be given, for instance an automatic aura of darkness or something rather similar to the Veela allure..."
Making. Morge had been Made.
Well, now Harry understood why she was so damn cute and clever.
Then, a voice called him to the Throne Room.
"My servant... another assignment: It's Christmas soon."
Tom twirled his wand.
"And, my Lord?"
"Well, could you go Christmas shopping for me?"
Harry grinned.
"Can't do it yourself, Tom?"
The Dark Lord looked rather sour.
"No, I thought I'd take the job of caring for Morgan this time."
Harry winced slightly. He had not wanted to remember how thoroughly Bellatrix had made clear that she was unable to do that job the last two times they'd let her babysit. The first time... well, that had been sort of funny, for Harry, at least.
The second one, not so much. Teaching a two-and-a-halfyear-old Dark spells that make people's guts turn inside out was not his idea of responsible baby-sitting. Especially when he had to help clean up the mess.
That was why Harry went away for two days with a long list for "Stuff to be bought for Christmas".
That night, Morgan had a nightmare, and her Dad wasn't there.
She slowly crept out of the room, opened the door, and went to the corridor leading to both the Throne Room and her Grandpa's quarters.
She opened the latter's door, squishing in.
She knew where her Grandfather's bedroom was. She opened that door, then, she shook him awake.
"Morgan? What is it? Go to sleep."
The Dark Lord yawned.
"I had a nightmare, Grampa", she whispered.
Then, she gave him a puppy-dog look.
"Can I sleep here?"
For just a second, it looked like Lord Voldemort would refuse.
Then, he sighed.
"Okay, you can creep in."
And so, Morgan slept peacefully besides her Grandpa.
When Harry heard of this scene the next day, he couldn't stop laughing for a full minute.
It might have been the first time Morgan sought comfort with her Grandfather, but it turned out not to be the last. Whenever Harry was on an over-night assignment, Morgan would creep into the sheets besides her Grandpa, often without asking.
He couldn't refuse her, anyway.