Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Harry Potter universe.

"dialogue"
"mental dialogue"
"parsel"
"mental parsel"

A week later found the pair together in an open field. A neutral meeting point that they had previously agreed upon. Voldemort stared at the boy, though really at almost 20 he couldn't exactly be considered such, and to put it bluntly he looked terrible. It was obvious he didn't sleep well or at all. Even behind those overlarge patched up glasses the bags under his eyes were apparent and his eyes were dulled with exhaustion. His hair was almost shoulder length and shaggy as if it had not been cut properly in years and calling his clothes merely ill fitting and worn would be a kindness. Most jarring though was just how emaciated he appeared. From what Voldemort had gathered about the boy he had never been anything but skinny, but this was an extreme he had not been expecting. Potter appeared as if he had not eaten well in weeks or possibly months. Voldemort didn't doubt that beneath those rags that pass as clothes each of Potter's ribs could be easily counted.

On his part Potter bore the scrutiny without word. He simply looked back at Voldemort, brow slightly raised as if vaguely amused at the attention being given to him. Mostly though he looked tired. If Voldemort were to describe Potter's appearance in one word it would be tired. Perhaps the boy was being truthful in his previous reasoning after all.

"Potter"

The barest of nods "Voldemort"

Voldemort continued, "From here I will be taking you to my manor. I have a ritual room there that should suffice for our purposes. Do not attempt anything. It would not end well for you."

That faintest look of amusement flickered across Potter's face again, but he took the offered arm without comment. With a small turn and a quiet pop the pair were gone and the field fell back to it's natural silence.

They arrived in the entryway of what appeared to be a large manor. The decorations were of obvious quality, but there was an understatement that ran through the decor. Nothing overly lavish or ornate, but there was little doubt that the owner was well off. Voldemort swiftly led the way further into the manor. Through a twist of corridors the pair eventually arrived in front a a nondescript door. Voldemort pushed it open and true to word on the other side was a ritual room. Bare stone and empty, the room did not look like anything special, but great care had gone into its preparation. The room was heavily warded and magically sealed off from the outside. Once the door was closed it provides an isolated environment best suited for more sensitive magics such as rituals.

Potter looked around and nodded his approval. He then pulled out a pouch from around his neck. Reaching in he proceeded to pull out the horcruxes. If Voldemort had not been expecting it he would have tried to kill Potter on the spot for so much as touching one of his soul pieces. Even so he felt a flare of anger spike and received a knowing glance from Potter. One by one they were taken out of the bag. The remains of the diary and ring, the locket, the diadem, the cup, Nagini in stasis (and how Potter had gotten his hands on her he had no idea) and each was carefully placed off to the side. Then potter produced a small book and some chalk. He opened the book, walked to the center of the room and began to draw.

In the reigning silence, Voldemort watched intently as the ritual circle was constructed to ensure there were no mistakes. As he watched he found his thoughts once again drifting to the enigma that Potter had become. What had happened to turn that boy into this shell of a man that stood before him? There appeared very little life left in Potter. Even meeting his sworn enemy of a lifetime garnered little reaction out of the boy. His actions since arrival seem almost mechanical. Absent of anything resembling life or care.

In truth Potter mostly had fallen out of his consideration somewhere during what should have been the boy's seventh year of Hogwarts. He had lost track of him and had not heard so much as a whisper about the boy's whereabouts until Potter himself contacted him a week ago. At first Voldemort assumed the boy was lying low and planning, but as time passed and no sign of the boy emerged he figured that he and his two friends must have fled Britain. Occupied as he was with the remaining resistance Voldemort had largely let his prophecised enemy slip from his mind. A slip he would not make a second time.

Obviously the boy had not fled as was more than evident by the line of his horcruxes sat innocently by the wall. Why hadn't the boy destroyed them? Since he also had the diary he had to know at least one way to manage their destruction. Why bring them back to him instead and propose to heal his soul? Was this all really just to have him read a proposal the brat had cobbled together while on the run?

Voldemort found himself pulled out of his musings as he abruptly noticed the absence of chalk scraping stone. He looked up to find Potter idly watching him. Shooting a glare at the brat he stepped up to inspect the circle. They had gone over the details at length the week previous and he had done his own extensive research to confirm. As if Lord Voldemort would ever allow for anything less when one or in the case most of his horcruxes were involved. A slow survey of the circle found nothing wrong. Not a grain of chalk out of place. Voldemort found himself grudgingly approving of the work on display.

He gave a small nod, "This is acceptable. Which horcrux is to be left out? You mentioned the one with the smallest fragment contained."

"None of these. You do not have six horcruxes. You have seven. You made one without even realizing it and that is the one that will be left untouched. I assure you that it is a proper horcrux and safe. It is also probably the most protected of the group. However, I will not reveal what it is until we are through and the terms of our oath fulfilled."

Rage. How dare he presume to tell Lord Voldemort what to do! And what was this nonsense about a seventh horcrux? It was impossible to create one accidentally. Lord Voldemort would crucio the brat to within an inch of sanity!

Suddenly Potter was there staring him straight in the eyes unwavering. "Calm down now and listen. The oath we took will not allow me to deceive you in this matter. There is another horcrux you were too far gone at the time to realize what you had made. I am definitely not going to tell you as long as you are prone to these blind rages you seem ever so fond of."

Voldemort was broken out of his rage more from the shock in this drastic change in Potter's demeanor than his words, but Potter had achieved his goal regardless. Taking a calming breath trying to resist the urge to strangle the whelp, he decided he would wait at least until after the ritual before pursuing the matter. Potter was correct that the oath would hold him to his word and that meant there must indeed be another horcrux as difficult to fathom as that was. There was no sense in antagonizing him further when he was needed to piece his soul back together. Afterwards when less delicate tasks were looming he could wring the boy for information regarding this extra horcrux.

Without acknowledging the boy, Voldemort stepped into place. His piercing red gaze followed every movement as potter placed his horcruxes and took his position. Potter glanced up and stated, "I should warn you this is likely to hurt. Badly. Not only are you healing a tear in your soul, you are healing multiple tears simultaneously."

If it weren't beneath him Voldemort would have rolled his eyes, "I expected nothing less. Get on with it before I change my mind about not feeding you to Nagini brat."

Potter started to chant. The magic built and then his world became pain. It was agonizing and he could no longer remember that he was anything other than this all consuming pain. After an indeterminable length of time the pain stopped and he only briefly glimpsed Potter's dumbfounded expression before the world went dark.

He ached. There was no other word to describe how he felt, but it did not really begin to cover the pervasiveness of the feeling. There was no part of him that did not ache. His skin, joints, muscles, eyes, down to his very soul felt like it ached.

Well the ritual had not killed him. Whether it had succeeded was yet to be determined. If only his eyes would cooperate and open so he could take stock of his situation. The very thought of opening his eyes seemed to emphasize the ache. Not about to let such a paltry thing as achiness, and he did not just think the word achiness, stop him he mustered up his strength and slowly opened his eyes. The room he was in was blissfully dim and it only took him a moment to register that he was in his own bedroom. How that brat had managed to get him here through all his wards he did not know, but he was simply too...achy to care.

With a small sigh at the poor state of his mental vocabulary he struggled his way up into a sitting position and called out "Nimsey."

A small creature popped into existence "What can Nimsey bes doing for Master Snake?"

Another mental sigh at the elf's chosen name for him, but he at least had gotten her to stop calling him Master Snakey. At the time he had chalked that up as a victory of unparalleled proportions. He wasn't about to risk her changing to something potentially worse by pressing the matter.

"A mild pain reliever and some tea Nimsey. Also do you have any idea how Potter got me in here and how long I have been out?"

"Master's guest called for a house elf and had Nimsey bring Master to Master's room. Master's guest said to tell Master that Master's guest will contact him again after Master has woken. Master has been out for over two days now." The little creature started to wring her hands looking decidedly upset, "Nimsey was getting worried."

Another sigh, this seemed to keep happening, "You did fine Nimsey. Now that potion and tea would be appreciated."

Nimsey looked slightly startled, but promptly popped away.

A few minutes later and feeling considerably better after the potion and hot tea he decided a shower would help relieve the rest of the stiffness. He pushed off the bed and gracefully walked across the room and into the bathroom. Where he stopped dead in place and gaped at his reflection.

The first thing that struck him was the nose. He had a nose. He poked it and recoiled slightly at the feeling of a nose, his nose, being poked. Eventually, he pulled his mind away from this new fascination and realized the nose was not the only thing to change. For the most part he looked like his 30 something year old self. Two notable exceptions caught his attention. His eyes were still red, but no longer slit-pupil and he still had no hair. He narrowed his eyes and looked closer at his head. He rubbed his hand across his scalp, then his eyebrows and confirmed his suspicion. It was not that he had no hair, but that he only had two days growth of hair. Barely a stubble now, but given time or a potion he should be once more graced with a full head of hair. He poked the nose, his nose, again and could not help but let out a slight smirk in triumph.

Later, feeling refreshed, he found his thoughts torn between his now ill fitting wardrobe and the taste of his lunch. How could he have forgotten just how much better food used to taste? He took a bite of his sandwich and understood why he had forgotten to eat so often. Food had been bland. He hadn't even realized it, but food had been very bland. It had never occurred to him that something was wrong because how could there ever be anything less than perfect about Lord Voldemort. He had better be careful or he'll start to think of himself as two separate beings. In a way they were though. It was undeniable that there were a lot of things he had been missing previously and had not realized he was missing. Like the taste of food. This sandwich was delicious.

Somewhere in the middle of pondering fabrics for his new wardrobe he felt a slight nudge in the back of his mind. It took him a moment to realize it must be the brat's equivalent of knocking.

"Potter"

"Afternoon Tom." was the surprisingly chipper reply from Potter. Tom paused as if expecting something. Only that something did not come. He pondered over what was absent and finally realized that Potter had called him Tom and he had not gotten angry over it. In fact he felt at most mild exasperation. If he stretched it. Looking back Tom realized that while he was not especially fond of the name, breaking down into a rage every time he heard it was maybe a tad extreme. Maybe. He still would not allow his death eaters to dare call him any such thing, but perhaps he could make an exception for Potter. If only because he was indirectly the cause for the taste of that sandwich.

Potter continued, "I couldn't help but notice that you were awake Tom. I've been receiving a decidedly giddy feeling coming from you for a few hours now. It's the nose isn't it?"

The shear amusement that Tom could feel coming over the link was another change and he made a mental note to go over his occlumency shields later. He needed to know if there was suddenly an issue with his shields or if the only reason he hadn't felt Potter's emotions previously was because his own were so uncontrollable and extreme as to overwhelm almost anything coming from that brat.

Tabling that thought for later his attention shifted back to Potter, "Do not think that a tasty sandwich is enough to allow you such leeway when speaking to me brat. Nose or not I am still the Dark Lord."

Now Potter just felt baffled. Better.

"Err okay. I just wanted to make sure everything seems to have worked correctly. Judging by your change in appearance I think it's safe to say that the ritual at least somewhat suceeded. Have you had a chance to test your magic?"

"No. I will only start once I've thoroughly reviewed the state of my occlumency shields and mindscape" and bought a new wardrobe, "What of your proposal Potter?"

Potter's lingering amusement vanished abruptly at the mention of his proposal. "Ah. I think that best wait until you have yourself sorted out again. Maybe in a week or so we can meet again regarding the proposal. I was just checking in. I'll leave you to your sandwich now."

With that Potter's presence disappeared leaving Tom to again wonder over the rapid changes in Potter's demeanor. Putting the thought aside Tom returned to his glorious sandwich and resumed his wardrobe planning.

His mind was a mess. It turns out that spending a number of years or decades as notably less than sane leaves your mind something of a disaster zone. Suddenly his fixation on that sandwich, no matter how tasty, had taken on an entirely new meaning. This also explained why his thoughts had felt so scattered since he woke. Or even before if he was being truthful. With a resigned sigh Tom waded through the mess that was his thoughts and memories of the last couple decades and started the tedious process of sorting them.

This was not pleasant. Tom sorted yet another memory of randomly torturing some hapless muggle. He could not help but wonder at what he had been thinking. He did not care overly much about the muggle. Nobody who knew him would claim he was a nice person even before he split his soul. However, the shear pointlessness of many of his actions over the years was appalling. He knew that he could not kill all the muggles. There were billions of them and they were frustratingly resilient. Risking exposure like he had with the raids on muggle villages was a level of stupidity that he would only acknowledge in the privacy of his own mind.

After a few more memories, he started to wonder if Potter piecing him back together was not just some twisted passive-aggressive revenge plan. Potter makes Tom understand the depth of his mistakes and then laughs hysterically with his friends over a warm butterbear. Yes, he could just picture Potter with the red head and Ms. Bushy Brown laughing at the success of their intricate plot to save the Dark Lord's soul just so he would be faced with the inanity of the choices he had made while very much insane. Although when stated like that perhaps not. Perhaps Potter had truly healed his soul just because he wanted Tom to read some proposal. Actually that sounded equally as absurd. As Tom sorted yet another meaningless report from a low level death eater he somewhat missed the days when crucio seemed to solve all of life's problems.

Hours later a grumpy Dark Lord emerged from his much clearer mind. Although he wasn't nearly finished Tom already felt significantly more settled. He called Nimsey for some dinner and settled down in his study to assess the state of affairs with his death eaters. Nimsey once again seemed slightly shocked when she departed after setting his plate down, but Tom was reluctant to ask for a reason. Even to his less than sane self the logic of house elves was often mind-bending and Nimsey in particular was a force all to herself. He decided to put off that particular matter for now and turned to his reports.

He knew it would be bad. It was not as though he suddenly did not remember what he was doing last week. He even remembered his reasoning. He just no longer comprehended why he had thought that reasoning was sound. Overnight his whole perspective had shifted and Tom was now left to deal with the fallout. Tom looked down at the reports strewn across his desk and it took all his Dark Lord dignity to refrain from banging his head on said desk. Repeatedly. It said a lot about how far the wizarding world had fallen that he had even gotten half this far in his conquest.

Leaning back in his chair tiredly Tom contemplated on what he was going to have to do in the coming weeks to begin to fix the mess of his affairs. He would need to rework the death eaters as a group. There were too many reckless grunts who were only in it for the sport of muggle hunting and were now a liability. Another group who for various reasons, many from too much time under his crucio, that were simply not sane enough to be trusted to avoid causing unnecessary mayhem. Come to think of it Bella had been missing for months now. Her dark mark was still active so he didn't believe she was dead, but that made her prolonged absence even more unusual. As crazy as she was, she was easily one of Tom's most devout followers and would not willingly remain absent like this. He would have to see about tracing her whereabouts when he had a chance.

On the other hand it was now easy for him to see how he had practically alienated other death eaters like the Malfoys. Tom was well aware that Lucius only remained with him out of fear for his family's safety. He would need the Malfoy's reputation and clout within the ministry if he was to proceed with his plans and would not get the best results if Malfoy started trying to undermine his orders. Perhaps he should bring Lucius in soon for a chat. Lucius would also be useful in swaying others like him back to truly supporting the cause.

Severus too would need to be brought in. It was now painfully clear how he was likely playing both sides. Perhaps with that brat's influence he could bring Severus back over fully. As much as it galled him to let this probable betrayal go, Tom could not argue how Slytherin and very much like Snape the action was. He also could not contest the man's brilliance in potions and other fields. He suspected he might have lost Severus the night he killed Lily Potter. The man had always had an infatuation with her. The question remained though that with her son at least somewhat cooperative would Severus remain where he was or reaffirm his loyalties.

Another problem was the remaining Order of the Phoenix members. With Dumbledore dead and their savior missing, Moody and Shacklebot had taken over the running of that thorn in the side vigilante group. Severus claimed that without Dumbledore to vouch for him he had been relegated to potions supplier, but how true that really was had yet to be seen. Even if Severus were marginalized in the organization Tom sincerely doubted that he would be anything less than informed. He suspected that even with that overly paranoid auror cobbling about Severus would know most everything happening within the group. Yet another reason to win back his potions master.

However first he needed to go shopping for new robes and reacquaint himself with his magic. Even if he no longer wore that fearsome snakelike visage he did have an image to maintain. Even Dumbledore had kept up appearances with those bright mismatched colors that could make eyes bleed. Those colors were a deliberate choice to promote his self made image of a slightly dotty and kind old man and mislead people into forgetting the shrewd mind they lay underneath. At least his hair had gone gray in his old age. The red had clashed so badly with some of his outfits it was a wonder his students had not gone blind. Yes, some new robes were certainly necessary.

Sighing tiredly once again, this really was becoming a habit, Tom reluctantly stood from his chair and headed in the direction of his bedroom. He'd sleep for now and then start what would likely be a long week of magic, occlumency, shopping and planning. Or as the brat put it sorting himself out. Hopefully his death eaters could handle a week without him telling them when to eat, sleep and bathe. The ones that could not probably needed to go anyway so it was no tremendous loss. Lowering down onto his bed Tom allowed one final prod at his nose before falling asleep.

A little over a week later and Tom was feeling like an entirely new person. Potter was correct. After finally getting the clutter in his mind sorted he had moved onto his magic. The change was enormous. Tom hadn't had this level of control over his magic since his Hogwarts days. How he had ever allowed the extent of degradation his magical control had suffered he would never know. Yes he had still been powerful, but he had essentially been throwing sledgehammers around when he wanted scalpels. He had been able to toss out crucios on a whim, but something as simple as a warming charm had given him issue. Especially if he was angry. Which was almost always. Thinking back that had played a large part in why he had kept Wormtail around. Anytime Nagini wanted a rock heated he had just ordered the rat to do it.

Nagini was another matter. Where had she gotten to? Tom didn't think the ritual had harmed her as he had found the other trinkets sitting in the room seemingly untouched. Well the ones that had not been previously destroyed. The diary still had a gaping hole and the ring was still broken and missing the stone. They had not taken additional damage though. It was possible with Nagini being a living horcrux that she had had an adverse reaction to the ritual, but Tom doubted this was the case. Potter had been behind Nagini's last disappearance perhaps he had something to do with this one.

As if summoned Tom felt that increasingly familiar mental nudge announcing Potter's presence.

Before Tom could acknowledge him and sounding entirely too bouncy Potter chimed in,"Hiya Tom! How have you been holding up? Eat anymore tasty sandwiches?"

Tom withheld yet another exasperated sigh, "Potter please refrain from the juvenile antics."

What could only be described as a mental pout assaulted him in tandem with Potter's response "Now you just sound like Professor Snape."

"Ah yes. How is everybody's favorite potions master these days?"

"I'd have thought you would know better than I would. Him being one of your death eaters and all. I can only assume that he continues to skulk through the dungeons, imposing fear into each new generation of impressionable firsties."

"You've had no contact with him? I was under the impression that dear Severus had likely defected from the ranks."

"I've had little contact with anybody. Especially these last few months. If you are looking for a current events trivia partner you'd be better off looking elsewhere."

Perhaps Potter really had not been in contact with Severus or perhaps he had picked up a thing or two from Dumbledore about avoiding the question. He was finding that he had difficulty judging Potter's intentions and the brat's emotions weren't clarifying matters. Tom decided to let the issue drop for now. It wouldn't do to alert Potter to his suspicions too soon.

"Why have you contacted me Potter? Surely it was not to inquire about my preference in sandwich fillings."

"Sadly no. Last we talked I mentioned possibly meeting in a week or so to start going over the reform proposal. I was hoping we might set up a meeting."

"How long will this take Potter?"

"Hmm that depends. The basic overview shouldn't take more than a couple of hours, but if you have questions or want clarifications – and this is likely to happen – then we should probably assume multiple meetings over a few days."

Curious despite himself Tom thought on his plans for the week. "Tuesday around 2. Just apperate into the entrance hall. I'll make sure the wards allow you through."

"Sounds good. Should I bring along some sandwiches in case you need a snack while we talk?"

"Brat. If you even try Nimsey will have your head. She's very protective of the kitchen."

"You have a house elf? For some reason I cannot picture you tolerating having one around. I wonder why that would be? Oh yes the terrible temper and lack of-"

"Potter! Do not think of finishing that sentence. Yes I have a house elf. I am not about to do my own cooking and cleaning much less trust one of my death eaters to do it. I can only imagine what concoctions Wormtail would produce if he attempted to cook."

Potter didn't immediately respond and Tom belatedly realized that the rat was probably not the best choice of conversation topics. Not that he cared about Potter's feelings, but he did not want to deal with an emotionally distraught or angry Potter ranting at him and flinging emotions around. However, once again Potter surprised him and didn't outwardly react to the comment. Although Tom could tell Potter's emotions were unsettled they were a jumbled mess and he couldn't pick out the specifics.

"I'll see you Tuesday Tom. I'll try not to offend your house elf with sandwiches."

As he seemed to do, Potter's presence vanished without preamble. Tom really could not quite get his head around this new Potter. The boy was so different than the last time they had met during the boy's fifth year. He had gotten reports regarding him during his sixth year, but afterwards Potter and his two friends had vanished, not returning for their final year. That was approaching three years ago now and something had obviously happened during the interim. That he had no idea was extremely irritating. He had heard nothing from his death eaters and they were under strict orders to bring Potter straight to him. So whatever had happened to the boy wonder was likely not directly related to his actions.

His two friends had vanished just as completely as Potter had. The boy's family allegedly had had no contact from any of them and the girls family had also up and disappeared. The prophet and that Skeeter women had had a field day when they left. Running stories that ranged from kidnapping to abandonment to a sordid love affair resulting in an illegitimate child. Some said they were in secret training. Others claimed they saw them in the most ridiculous situations. A passing old man winked at a wizard in the street of muggle London. It must be Potter in disguise. A witch finds a galleon lying in the street. It must be Potter trying to discreetly fund them. As the weeks passed the stories only got more sensationalist. One day Potter would save them all, the next he was plotting in some secret lair preparing to becoming the next dark lord. Each story had been more ridiculous than the one proceeding it.

As more time passed and the weeks became months and then years the paper published fewer stories about potter and the other parts of the golden trio. Many had concluded he was likely dead and their hope in his return had slowly dwindled. There were of course those out there who still believed he would sweep in on his white horse and rescue them, but judging by what he had seen of Potter so far Tom found this scenario unlikely. Potter looked like he was barely keeping himself alive much less fretting about being the hero of the people. No, Tom suspected that even if he was lying about everything else Potter sincerely intended to leave wizarding society when their business was concluded.