'An Idle Mind Is The Devil's Playground'

By: Night Flame Miko

Contributed to by: Chocolate coated Blue

An: This chapter should be fun! Hehe. I'm starting to write it now, and even I don't know quite how it's going to come out, but anyways, here it is. Enjoy. Thank you to all those who reviewed, they are truly appreciated, me and Chocolate coated Blue love hearing from you :D

Disclaimer: We don't own these characters, if we did, then Voldy would have got his looks back in Canon (Muahaha *whistles innocently*).

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Harry lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.

He didn't know quite what to do with himself. Normally, when stuff like this happened (like with Snape) he would get righteously angry, rant and rave in his mind, then take revenge when and where he could. But in this case he couldn't, never mind the person who wronged him was on of the most powerful in the Wizarding World, it was because he should have expected this. Voldemort was his enemy, like he said in that other letter, it was the whole reason he sent a letter to him in the first place. He should have remembered that what Voldemort wanted, he got. Usually in a very painful way for the recipient.

Honestly, he expected Voldemort to find out about his home life eventually. It wouldn't take much effort (Snape had seen snippets after all, and it was hard to believe that the bastard hadn't already given all the information he could to the Dark Lord). And he did expect Voldemort to become really, really angry after reading his letter, and he expected a painful dark-hex/kidnapping/threatening of his friends etc. in response. For some reason, he didn't expect to be painfully mind-raped.

It had only been a day since he sent that letter, and already he was feeling pretty foolish. I mean, it was always assumed that he despised the Dark Lord as much as the evil git did him. And whilst he did hate the guy, and pretty much want him dead, he didn't despise him. No, that was saved for the Dursley's. I mean what are a few attempts on his life compared to 16 years of suffering? (Well 10, and a few summers).

Sighing he glanced round his room, he knew he could just 'alohamora' the door and get to doing something, considering he was now 17. But in the long run that would just create more problems then solve them, because when he had to come back, and he would have to eventually, then the Dursley's could take out their anger on him for being so 'freakish'.

Hearing something he looked to the window and was actually surprised when the proud eagle-owl swooped in, once again landing on his desk. Looking at it for a long time he stared between it, the letter and the parcel attached to its leg. Obviously Old-Voldy wasn't finished with him yet. He wondered absently what the letter would say.

Most likely something about his childishness, how stupid and foolish he had been to even attempt to keep anything from the Dark Lord and that he should consider himself lucky that the Evil Git didn't do any lasting damage to his mind whilst he was riffling through it (considering that he probably should say a prayer of thanks, if the Git had wanted he could have so fucked-up Harry's mind that all the Boy-Savior would be left as, was a living vegetable).

The eagle-owl seemed to get fed up with his inaction because it flew over to him, landing on his stomach and glared at him, somehow the light seemed to glint off of the birds' sharp beak and talons. Harry was convinced the thing did it on purpose. Giving a long suffering sigh (fused with a death glare) he pulled the letter and parcel off the bird, watching as it flew back to his desk, somehow looking very satisfied. Shaking his head at it Harry opened the letter, keeping his eyes closed and firming his resolve before opening them and shakily reading the letter.

Harry, (yes, Harry choked when he read that too)

Are you implying that you did not despise me before I took your memories? I find that hard to believe, but in any case; I will not apologize for what I did. I asked you…nicely *shudders* Twice, before resorting to what I did. And whilst I do not regret learning what I did, I do admit that resorting to the methods I have may have been a bit of overkill *smirks*. I will not resort to such methods again (unless we are attempting to kill each other once again, then I will not hesitate).

Why would I taunt you about your home life? In case you haven't noticed, I only taunt you about your foolishness, and your decidedly Gryffindor traits. What Slytherin doesn't taunt a Gryffindor (or the other way around, for that matter). I don't know why I am trying to justify my actions to you, but it seems we are even more similar than I thought…so you have no need to fear me, at least not about what I now know of your home life.

Though you may continue to fear me in everything else.

Apart from that, I decided that whilst I won't teach you anything too useful, the parcel should help you with the disgusting muggles. It is up to you whether you use them or not.

From,

Voldemort

p.s. This is the closest thing you will ever get to an apology. Ever. It is more than I have done for anyone else.

Be proud.

Harry stared at the letter.

A few minutes later, he finally pulled himself far enough out of his stupor to glance at the parcel and then the waiting eagle-owl. The bird seemed smug for some reason, giving it a glare just to be consistent, Harry turned to the parcel and carefully reached out, waiting for it to bite him or something to explode, anything. Voldemort is just not the type to give gifts with nothing dangerous happening at the same time.

Yet nothing happened.

Sighing, slightly in relief, but mostly in agitation; Harry ripped the brown paper off the parcel and stared at the book now sitting innocently (if anything associated with Voldemort could ever be called 'innocent') on his bed.

'Minor Hexes That Cannot Be Traced'- the title read. Eyebrow raised Harry curiously turned to the contents page before his jaw dropped. The book was filled with everything he could ever possible want to know about hexes, and, flipping to the first chapter, it did indeed explain to him how to do the spell so that it couldn't be traced to him. There were even ways to set the hexes to go off at certain times, to make the spells even more untraceable for the caster.

Just about to get lost in the infinite possibilities that was this book, the eagle-owl ruffled its feathers; clearly trying to get his attention. Looking up at it, it pointedly stared between him and some parchment (these birds are way too intelligent). Letting out one more long-suffering sigh (he seemed to be doing that a lot) he got up, staring longingly at the book before turning his attention to the parchment on his desk and dejectedly started writing, the eagle-owl watching carefully, making sure he didn't try to get back to the book before he was done with the letter.

Finishing it off with a flourish Harry attached it to the owl and as soon as the bird was out of the window, he slammed it shut after the annoyance and practically leapt at his bed and the waiting book. Finally, something new to do!

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Voldemort was up late, busily writing letters, orders and descriptions of future raids. They had finally finished the raid he had been planning for months; it wasn't really anything spectacular, just meant to catch people's attention without too many casualties.

After he had regained his sanity Voldemort had cut back on the killing indiscriminately, it was sending the wrong message and not really pulling people to his side (other than crazies and pureblood fanatics, which was all well and good but not nearly enough cannon fodder). So he was now more into attracting attention and making a point. Not that people didn't end up dead, just not as many.

He didn't even look up when he heard his owl swoop in, finishing off what he was doing first. Once that was completed only then did he look at the bird which promptly stuck out its leg, a letter attached.

Voldemorts eyebrow rose. He hadn't expected a reply so soon. Potter normally took much longer to get over his little grudges (though admittedly this one was well deserved). Reaching for it, despite himself, curiously he opened the parchment and began to read.

To Voldy,

It's…fine. I expected as much from you anyway, though I have to admit I forgot that you could legilimize my mind through our link. I was expecting some extremely painful dark-hex and instead got an incredible painful mind-rape. But you are my enemy, and at least I am used to it from Snape.

Ha. Anyways, thanks for your not-apology, though I was (extremely) wary of the book, I think you just made my day *rubs hands together and cackles evilly*. My uncle wont know what hit 'em. Though he will probably blame it on me anyway…

By the way, I didn't…don't…whatever, despise you. I hate you, sure, want to see you dead and all that jazz, but despise is something I save for the Dursley's, and Snape. You managed to get out of it though, cause of the book and not-apology. Snape has yet to say anything about his mind-rape training never mind acknowledge that it may be a bit…harsh, and even if he did, he is still an all round bastard.

Also, I'm a bit worried about your bird. Did you do something to make it smarter, it kept glaring at me till I wrote the letter, and I swear it stood a certain way just to make the light shine off of those daggers it calls talons, never even mind the beak. Funny, it suits you to have a stuck-up, intelligent and dangerous owl (lets not even get started on Nagini) as a pet.

Anyway, I was stunned at your letter to be honest. I was expecting you to go on about how weak I was (that was not an invitation by the way!), or how I need to be on guard at all times, yadda yadda. The fact that you didn't was more than a surprise, never mind the rest. Though your letter almost makes it sound like you regret the way you got the information, and for evil, badass Dark Lord's regret isn't possible right?

Ok. I'm done. Your fu…reaking pigeon should be happy with the letter, I should find out depending on whether it mauls me when I try and attach it to the things leg. If there is any blood on this parchment, then you'll know what happened and I'm blaming you. Don't you have any nicer ones? Ones that don't threaten us decent folk?

Hold on.

Sorry, forgot who I was writing to for a second there. Just ignore that whole last paragraph.

Anyways, that's me done. I'm going to go happily read for a good 4 hours. Till later I suppose.

From,

Your Annoyance

*Aka Harry Potter*

Voldemort, the so called evil, badass Dark Lord couldn't help it. He chuckled. Who knew that one enemy could get so positively distracted whilst writing a letter to another enemy? The Brat went on and on about the bloody owl. An owl! To his arch-enemy! Maybe the kid had really gone off the edge? Not that he could really call Potter a kid now, considering he is in his twenties. Mentally, Voldemort was a good few decades older than the brat, but since when has mental age ever counted?

Sending his owl off he decided to end his night on, dare he say it? A good note. Whilst Potter wasn't he most intelligent of co responders he was amusing to say the least, considering he could ramble on about anything. Funny, all the reports he had heard stated that the boy was fairly quiet and kept to himself, yet judging from the letters he was quite a chatter-box, able to talk about one subject for hours. Though considering the boy's childhood, that actually makes sense. When you're alone for the first ten years of your life, who is there to talk with but yourself?

Setting up powerful wards around his room, Voldemort unchanged, slipping into his bed wearing only his boxers he drifted to sleep, wondering at the easy way he had earned forgiveness (not that he was asking for it!).

Gryffindor's were almost too generous.

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An: And so it begins! Muahahaha. This is going to be sooo fun. Ok people, you know the drill. :D Just pop in a review (especially long ones, We love hearing peoples opinions :P) Till next chapter everyone.