James can't find any house elves to trick into taking him past the wards, Prongs can't get through either, the floo network is only connected when Voldemort is expecting guests, the owls have learned to dodge him, and James has developed a fear of being chased through small crawl spaces by giant snakes because Voldemort thinks the scratching in the ceiling is a mouse.

There are several works in progress as well because while James can't get into the potions lab yet, explosions are still an option. He's also halfway through a book he found in the library on warding because theoretically if he digs out a warding stone then the whole thing collapses but he needs to know where it is and what it looks like.

(He also found a diary in the library that tried to write to him and James told it absolutely hilarious dick jokes until it just stopped responding because apparently diaries have no sense of humour.)

Quite frankly, James thinks that is an impressive amount of plans he's made without a wand to back him up.

On the fifth day of his inexplicable holiday in this manor, James is flying around on a broomstick he found tucked away, an older model that doesn't take turns well but it's good enough he supposes.

He sits up there to watch the sunset then heads back inside, though he gets distracted halfway back by hissing in the ceiling.

"Hello?" James calls out, staring upwards. "You…doing okay?"

More hissing that sounds rather frantic, and several scratching noises.

"Are you stuck?" James looks around and finds a vent near the ceiling. He drags a side table over, drops the decorative vase while moving it but the fancy thing doesn't shatter (pity).

The dried snapdragon flowers fall out of the vase and James kicks it all out of the way. He's not touching it – he knows some old families place magically connected flowers around the manor to deter (or even hunt down) intruders and snapdragons mean deceit. James is not getting stuck in an illusory labyrinth thanks.

James aligns the side table under the snake noises and climbs onto it to start knocking on the ceiling. "Come this way! Follow the noise."

James gets the snake halfway to the vent but it seems to be caught on something – maybe there's a beam in the way? The snake doesn't come out and flails around in…distress? Anger? Embarrassment?

James doesn't understand snake.

James hesitates. "I'll be right back, don't worry!"

As James jogs through the manor, he musters up enough courage to talk to Voldemort because, even without the snake, he really needs to leave. Voldemort kind of seems like the nerdy type so maybe James can tell the Dark Lord it's OWLS year and that education is important.

He peeks into the drawing room but tries to back out when he sees the Dark Lord has three people for company. Not Death Eaters, not nearly deferential enough for that. The atmosphere is light-hearted enough for James to consider it chatting instead of a meeting.

"Yes, James?" Voldemort says.

James jolts at being addressed and then stifles a grimace. First name, really? Well, a Dark Lord can do whatever the hell he wants.

The one of the men, sitting close to a woman and probably a couple, seems to latch on to the name though. "A Potter? I'm surprised," he says in what James guesses is a Spanish accent but it's too light to really pinpoint it.

"James is staying with me for a few days while his parents are busy," Voldemort explains.

James wants to call him a liar, there's no way his parents would leave him with a Dark Lord - except James is an idiot, not suicidal, so he says nothing.

"Well?" Voldemort insists, eyes starting to narrow.

"There's a thing," James says vaguely and gestures back out into the hallway. He gets an unimpressed stare back.

James isn't sure if he's allowed to tell people that Voldemort's snakes are dumb enough to get trapped in weird places but if he wastes any more time Voldemort will probably crucio him.

James hesitates a bit but trots over and ducks down, hand cupped to whisper in the Dark Lord's ear. "I think a snake is stuck in the ceiling outside your hidden trophy room."

James pulls back and looks at Voldemort with the most earnest eyes he can manage because it's really not his fault.

The Dark Lord's jaw clenches for a moment because that room is locked and James should not know it was a trophy room (and oops James was using it to practice dismantling wards) but he manages to get himself under control.

"Ah," Voldemort says and judging by the reaction, this might happen more often than James thought. "Thank you, James. Here, why don't you entertain our guests while I deal with the misplaced snake."

Voldemort unfolds to his full height and steers James into the seat with a large, too cold hand over the back of his neck, then the Dark Lord leaves.

James looks across at the woman directly opposite and his Heir training kicks in, a charming smile flashing across his face. "Truth be told, I saw you from the window, ma'am, and I couldn't pass up the chance."

The woman laughs, loud and rough. "That kind of charm will get you places, boy."

"James," he introduces himself, reaching across the chess game on the table to take her offered hand. "Heir to the Potter family. Bored out of my mind in this manor without a proper broom." James presses a light kiss to her knuckles, looks up through his eyelashes. "Or I was before you arrived."

The man on the left raises an eyebrow but he's smiling. "That's my wife, Mr. Potter."

James winks. "And you're not so bad either, mister."

The couple laughs, that look in their eyes like James is so cute for trying to act like an adult. He gets that from teachers sometimes, and the adults when he's forced to attend larger galas.

James knows how to play it up.

The man on the right doesn't seem to into it but he joins in the conversation regardless, even smiles occasionally at the dumb Hogwarts story James launches into because he doesn't want to give them enough time to start asking serious questions.

"-dropped the mandrake into the Black Lake," James says airily like that isn't completely illegal. He's already cut his losses with the third person so he's leaning towards the couple and they're leaning in as well, completely hooked.

"Immediately ate the gillyweed and dove down," James continues. "Stole the pearls from the stunned giant clams and then grabbed the mandrake on the way back up. Blamed it all on the grindylows."

The woman has a hand over her heart like she's shocked but she's smirking. "If I was your mother, I would have killed you for that stunt."

"But you would also have pearls the size of your fist."

"You really know how to bargain," the husband muses.

Voldemort comes back into the room after a while, having spent time redoing the protections on the trophy room door, and now it'll electrocute people who try to touch it. James promptly escapes, hearing the couple cooing over how cute the British can be.

The third man hums, taps a finger on the table. "I didn't know the British Light families were supporting you."

"A few," Voldemort says carelessly, taking a seat again. "James, be a dear and get us a nice wine."

James, having gotten as far as the doorway, blinks.

The three are watching closely. And, okay, James understands Voldemort is showing off that the Potters would 'trust' him with their Heir. The three are clearly families from across the pond, most probably Light, and Voldemort is trying to recruit them.

James understands as well that him getting wine like a servant is a huge concession but also he's sixteen, he's allowed to be fucking terrified of a Dark Lord - that Black says kills James himself. James didn't ask but Merlin, he hopes he at least put up a fight.

"Which one?" James asks. He's already found the wine cellar on his explorations.

"Whichever one you like most," Voldemort says mockingly.

James slips away behind the safety of a wall to flip the Dark Lord off.

He goes to the stupid wine cellar and searches the shelves idly. Skips the section for wines paired with meats. Skips all the paired wines actually because there were no snacking food on the table so it'll most likely be sipping wine taken straight.

The wine needs to be the main course, enough flavour to not get boring, maybe one that has its notes change after exposure to air? James wants to go for fruits but maybe more earthy instead – that seems like a Dark Lord thing to drink. Smells more solid too.

James reaches the end of the cellar and backtracks, focuses on one shelf in particular. Dismisses all the vineyards that are still active – not that they make bad wine but it's more socially acceptable to pull out something rare when meeting important people.

James crouches down and pulls out a bottle, no label but subtle silver etching in the glass itself. He wonders how expensive this is, then realises he doesn't care.

James trots back out of the cellar, wanders around because he lost the sitting room, but eventually emerges to hand over the bottle.

Voldemort takes it, holding it with his thumb in the base like all the snooty wine fanatics do. Voldemort scans the label and smirks. "Well done, James."

James feels like he passed a test he should have tried to fail.

.

A/N: James left fingerprints all over the display glass around Hufflepuff's cup and you know Voldemort neurotically cleaned it until it was sparkling again.

Also yes, I'm assuming Voldemort hung onto his horcruxes until the war got bad enough that he sent them away (and then he mentally deteriorated swiftly) which explains why he's sane now.