He has his first kind-of-conversation with Dumbledore in a man-eating closet in a forgotten corner of the school. In his defense, he's never been here before—it's as if this entire wing of the castle has managed to come into existence following his own graduation…but that can't be right, because it looks positively ancient.

Against his common sense, Voldemort explores. He ends up in an aggressive broom closet for his troubles. Tripping over various cleaning supplies—magical and muggle alike—he casts a Lumos with his wand, prepared to exit the closet as quickly as possible. Instead, he comes face-to-face with Albus fucking Dumbledore.

Voldemort, forgetting himself, demands, "What are you doing here?"

Dumbledore, who is sitting primly on stacks of cardboard boxes covered in labels in a language that does not exist, smiles at him. In front of him, looking completely out of place, is a small table covered in painted, baby pink flowers that sway delicately in a wind that does not exist. On top of it, there is a teacup filled with warm tea and several layered platters of various types of sandwiches. He says, "Quirinus, how lovely of you to join me! You see, I was doing a little exploring of the castle when I happened upon a door with teeth! Obviously, the mystery was too much to leave alone, so I attempted to study it further and, well…" He gestures vaguely to their surroundings. "I'm here."

Voldemort stares at him. In his head, Quirrell says, "I can take over, My Lord."

Voldemort gratefully relinquished his control over to Quirrell. What follows is an almost pitiful conversation, going something like this…

Quirrell: "Well, I r-really must be g-going, Headmaster."

Dumbledore: "Nonsense! Here, I've conjured an extra teacup! Come sit with me!"

Quirrell: "N-No, I r-really must! I have t-to t-teach a lesson—"

Dumbledore: "Well, I suppose so…if you can get past the door's teeth, you can do whatever you wish."

Quirrell: "…Oh. Those are sharp t-teeth."

Dumbledore: "Indeed."

Quirrell: "How do we g-get out?"

Dumbledore: "Oh, it's already had tea, so I suppose we'll have to wait for supper. When it opens its mouth to feed, we can make it throw us up."

Quirrell: "Oh." A pause. "Do you have p-peppermint t-tea?"

Dumbledore: "Of course!"

Several hours later, when Quirrell's taste buds are nearly dead from Dumbledore's sugary sweet tea and awful lemon drops, Voldemort regains control and stumbles back into his office. He finds a present from Dumbledore waiting for him on his desk, even though he'd seen the man less than two minutes prior and he'd had no time to prepare a present for him.

He unwraps it. Inside it, he finds a bloody tooth that looks remarkably like the ones on the closet's door.

If he were younger, he would be enraged at the taunt. Now, though…

Well, a few of his NEWT-level students still need a topic of study to dedicate their year to.

A/N (posted on ao3 2022-11-04): yk ive read a lot of hp fics but i always miss the sense of wonder and surrealism that was in the first few books...like fics make everything seem normal which is nice but also i love it when Dumbledore does the most senseless things. like yeah he was kind of a shitty person but also...he was so iconic. like i would want to be friends with him. i bet he knows all the tea.