A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Harry Potter.

I have no beta.

ENJOY!

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.

-There is talking. Not the talking you're hoping for though. Sorry! :)

-Dumbles plays a more important part from now on. FYI.

-Quetzalcoatl are creatures in my fic. Messing with mythology. Sorry not sorry.

-Voldy has feelings.

-I made fan art for Voldy and Harry. I think I'll post them on the AO3 chapter of this.

When Harry came down that morning, he did not expect to see his parents and godparents sitting at the kitchen table, talking with an old man. An extremely old man. In fact, he probably put Slughorn to shame with his age.

"I take it this is young Harry?" the man asked, turning his gaze upon Harry. Harry noted the half-mooned spectacles, and the almost grey/blue eyes that lingered behind them.

There was something particular about this man. Not just his long arse hair and beard, which were silver, but also his magic.

It was Light, but very soothing. Calming in a sense.

The only other thing about the man that stood out was his choice in robes. Fluorescent yellow and lavender stars littering the belled sleeves. Honestly, it was hideous, and Harry wasn't even up in the fashion department. But he would never wear anything like that and he couldn't believe such a piece of clothing existed.

Clearing his throat, hoping that no one noticed his appalled staring at the man's garish clothing, Harry nodded respectfully. "Yes. I'm Harry Potter, sir."

Harry was a bit wary of shaking the man's old hand. It just looked so old. Frail. Still, he didn't want to be rude to his parents' guest.

"I'm Albus Dumbledore."

Harry's head almost smacked into his own palm. Almost. He should have known that. The gross thing that man was wearing should have given it away. The history books said clearly that Albus Dumbledore loved awkward patterns and mixing colors that did not match.

He'd been released from Nurmengard. Distantly, Harry realised that the ninth was a few days ago and that he shouldn't be shocked. Dumbledore had only been sentenced for twenty years. Enough time in Voldetwat's mind to take over Magical Britain and change everything around.

So the Leader of the Light was free once again.

Harry glanced at his family, wondering if they were somehow trying to rebuild their ridiculous rebellion. Merlin, he hoped they weren't. Honestly, his life was doing just fine and he did not want to deal with any uprisings any time soon.

Voldemort was an utter dick, true, but the man was a good leader and no one was dying for no reason. Things were going good. Harry wasn't blind to the hatred some people still had for the man. He also knew that they would jump at the chance to rebel from the Dark Lord's reign.

Harry had read all about the war and he did not want to become an on-call Healer for St. Mungo's. Because that was what happened back then. Anyone with any medical training was called in because they needed as much help as they could get. And it couldn't be avoided. Legal requirements and all that rubbish.

He hoped he wasn't going to be thrown into the middle of a war and have to actively choose a side. There was no guarantee that he would choose either Light or Dark. He'd choose himself before anyone else, first and foremost. That was the sharp truth in his life.

It wouldn't be his war that was being fought after all.

Lily suddenly stood, and Harry watched as she patted him on the shoulder and left the room. Surprisingly, James, Sirius, and Remus followed, all patting his back as they left.

"Harry, would you mind if we spoke?" Dumbledore asked, genial and not at all suspicious. But the man was powerful and had defeated a Dark Lord before. Who was to say that it was safe to be around him?

Still, Harry didn't think his parents would ever agree to letting someone do anything unsolicited to their son, so he nodded and seated himself at the table.

"Thank you. I've been taking my time on catching up with recent events. The Daily Prophet can't always be taken as gospel truth after all."

Very true.

"I do however know, that you denied Tom's hand in marriage."

Harry's head jerked in shock. Dumbledore was referring to the Dark Lord as Tom.

The man smiled, his eyes almost twinkling with mirth. "I understand Tom's desire to bury his horrible past, but I refuse to cater to that particular demand of his. He needs to learn that there is nothing wrong with being himself, and I will call him Tom until the day I die."

Voldemort's true name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. He didn't really want anyone knowing it. There were no available records of life.

Harry had been curious after his mother told him about the man's true name. He looked up Tom Marvolo Riddle and found that he was considered the best student Hogwarts ever had. Held the highest scores in every subject and was the first to successfully take all O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams, and get an Outstanding on every one. He was even considered the most likely candidate for the position of Minister for Magical Britain.

The only available photo of the young man looked exactly liked Voldemort did. As if he hadn't aged in the past fifty years. Harry simply assumed that it was a spell to stay young. Or maybe he'd made some kind of bargain with a demon. One never knew when it came to Dark Lords.

"Does he really hate the ordinary?" Harry asked, interested in this sudden source of information on Voldemort's childhood.

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "Tom has always been a difficult child. A Slytherin if I ever knew one. He wanted to be somebody even when he was little, and the desire simply grew and grew as the years passed. When I met him, he seemed like every other child, until he spoke. It was how he acted. How his eyes narrowed. He liked having magic, but despised how he was no longer special because of it. Hundreds of thousands of other people have magic, he was no longer unique.

"Millions of people all over the world have the name Tom, or a variation or it. He disliked it. He disliked being connected to his Muggle roots. And when he learned of his family, he wanted to get rid of his name completely."

Dumbledore lifted his wand and began to write in the air, Flagrate leaving fiery letters in the wake of his wand.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Dumbledore swished his wand to the side, and the letters began to move around, until they formed something else entirely.

I am Lord Voldemort.

This time Harry did smack his own forehead. He couldn't help it. The anagram of his own name. Good Circe the man was dramatic.

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, as if he had heard Harry's thoughts. "Tom isn't the most original. Though his new name does hold more meaning to him personally."

The next thing Dumbledore wrote out was short and sweet, but made Harry pause to consider the man.

Flight From Death.

Vol - de - mort. Why would someone make their new title so obvious? But the French…

"Wouldn't it be 'Flight of Death'?" Harry asked in confusion. He had basic knowledge in French, but he was sure that 'de' didn't mean from.

"Actually, 'de' has many connotations in the French language. It could also mean 'Flight with Death', or 'Flight By Death'. However, I say 'Flight From Death' because Tom has an almost choking fear of dying."

The greatest Dark Lord in all of history was scared of dying? It was almost too ridiculous to imagine. The man who held more power than any other being at present, was scared of dying?

Dumbledore was nodding. "What do you know about the world wars?"

"Not much," Harry admitted, regretting not reading that book his mum had got him a few years back.

"Tom grew up while the Muggle world was on the cusp of war. During his fourth year at Hogwarts, London was repeatedly attacked in what is now known as the London Blitz. Magicals didn't care much, but there was always at least one report on it in the Daily Prophet. Some time over the Yule hols, Tom's orphanage was lost in the bombing, though thankfully not many had been in the building at the time. Still, had Tom decided to go back for his holiday, he probably would have died."

Harry had heard about the Blitz from his mum. Her parents had actually lived through it when they were children. They'd had many a story to tell their daughters about it. He knew enough, and he could feel that annoying thing known as pity riding up. Being a child in such an environment must have sucked.

"When Tom learned about it, I could see the fear in his eyes. He understood that he could have died. And the problem in this, was that I had called him into my office before the holidays began and tried to convince him to go back to the orphanage and try to make amends with the other children there. Had he gone, he most likely would have been dead.

"Before the war had officially started, the Muggles were going through what is known as the Great Depression which had been a backlash of the former war that they hadn't had enough time to recover from. So there was always some kind of reminder that there wasn't enough money or food. Illness was rampant through the destitute. People died on the regular. Tom was lucky that magical children are more resistant to common, Muggle illnesses. His magic saved him from succumbing to viruses that his fellow orphans had fallen ill with."

Orphanage. Dumbledore had mentioned the orphanage twice. The Dark Lord had grown up in an orphanage. An orphan, all alone in the middle of a war and an economic crisis.

Harry folded his arms in frustration. He was supposed to be angry with the man, not pitying him!

"As you can see, Tom's fear of Death wasn't a sudden thing. However, his journey to fight against it, was suddenly alive and thriving. Tom did many things in his youth, and they cost him dearly. And now he has what he always wanted, but he is not happy with the results."

At Harry's confused look, the man asked, "You like him, don't you?"

Harry scoffed and looked away. "I don't give a damn about that arse. He can go rot for all I care."

"Lily told me about your Seventh Task. About how Tom used a disguise to confront you."

Harry didn't respond.

"Did you know that Tom actually wears a glamour all the time?"

Harry's jaw dropped without his permission and he ended up looking over, shock managing to prevail over all the other emotions he was feeling.

Dumbledore was nodding. "His 'disguise'," the man said, adding air quotes around the word, "and his glamour as interrelated. You should ask him about them."

"I don't want to talk to him at all."

"My boy, how else are you going to mend your relationship?"

"What relationship?" the teen sputtered, feeling as if maybe Albus Dumbledore had gotten the wrong idea somewhere in his recent studies.

"Tom likes you. Every time I have seen him in the past year, you have always come up in conversation. Tom barely likes anyone, so obviously there is something about you that catches his attention."

Harry didn't know what was more embarrassing. Voldemort liking him, Voldemort talking to Albus Dumbledore - the man who was supposedly his enemy! - about him, or Albus Dumbledore somehow inferring something completely off from whatever he had heard from the Dark Lord.

"Merlin, do you want me to marry him too?"

Dumbledore laughed suddenly. As if the very thought was humorous. "Dear boy, I want whatever this rift is between you is, to disappear. If marriage happens at some point in the future, that is all well and good. But for now, I simply want whatever bond Tom has managed to make on his own, to not be destroyed due to misinformation. And trust me when I say, you have jumped to conclusions too quickly, and he is poor at handling his emotions and other people's emotions.

"Tom needs someone in his life who isn't scared of him. Who is willing to put him in his place. Who stands up to him. Who can comfort as well as confront him. He's never had that. He is socially inept, and I don't want your relationship, whatever it may be, to be ruined because both of you lack the social skills required to keep a healthy relationship."

There was one thing that confused him though. "Why do you want him to have a relationship at all? Aren't you enemies? Don't you hate each other?"

The old wizard sighed. "I've never hated Tom. Pitied him, certainly. Been disappointed in him, most definitely. Aggravated with him, on a near constant basis. But there is more to our relationship that that.

"He was my student. The little boy I introduced to magic, and watched grow. I was his professor. Admittedly, I was not very helpful when he needed my help, and Gellert made me acknowledge my mistakes. I played a large part in creating Voldemort. The greatest Dark Lord in history made a few mistakes in his youth, in response to some of my actions. I could have been better and I could have helped him. I didn't. I let my prejudice cloud my judgment, and Voldemort was born in the process. Part of the blame will always lay at my feet, and I can see that now."

Dumbledore shook his head, eyes downcast with disappointment in himself.

"On another note, I can't help but be proud of him. Not of some of the things he has done, but I am proud of all that he has managed to accomplish in his lifetime. He said he would do something, and whether I like it or not, he did everything he said he would. Not many hold the mettle necessary to succeed in everything they set their mind to. Yet he has astounded me again and again."

Dumbledore sounded almost emotional. As if recounting the past hurt and amazed him all at once.

"I want what is best for him. It took me until recently to realise that what I think is best, doesn't always mean that it is best for everyone. People are infinitely different, and my best might be someone else's worst. So I have changed. I want for him, what he thinks is best for himself. And in the long run, that is you. And I think he's right. You are good for him."

Harry found himself staring at the table, unable to really respond to the man.

Dumbledore simply patted his head when he left, leaving Harry to his silent contemplation of the Dark Lord, and the relationship he had with the man.

What was he going to do now?

On his birthday, Harry found an elaborately wrapped box on his bed. It was green, with silver trimmings, and a silver bow. Just by the look of it, he could tell who had sent it, and he was skeptical.

The card on the front told him who is was from, confirming his suspicions.

Congratulations on another year. Hopefully you will enjoy your birthday more than I enjoy mine.

Lord Voldemort.

Harry actually didn't like his birthday all that much. Apparently, Voldemort felt the same about his own birthday. How bloody convenient.

With a sigh, the young wizard decided to open the gift. If it was on his bed, then his mother and father had both already gone over it, checking it for any possible curses. They had deemed it safe enough to let him have it.

Inside was a book. Honestly, the man had a thing for gifting books to people.

Harry was careful with it, for it looked old. The cover wasn't made of leather, but it was certainly a strange sort of material. Almost scaly in a sense. Though there was a feather here and there. Oddly coloured.

Opening the book, Harry recognised the signature of none other than Salazar Slytherin, written in Basque though. He was brought back to the Healing book Voldemort had given him at Christmas.

It had been a side quest, but he had translated it on his own, and managed to learn some very interesting facts about the least popular Found of Hogwarts. Translating this text would be a lot easier now.

Flipping the page, he was confronted with Salazar's familiar script, small and neat. There was a diagram on the first page, and Harry's jaw dropped when he realised what creature this book was about.

No one had seen one in centuries! They hid from humankind, wary of confronting them. One of the Unclassified creatures he'd never gotten to see, because the British Ministry had never encountered one before, and therefore couldn't form a direct conclusion to the danger they possessed.

Quetzalcoatl. Voldemort had given him a book for his birthday, about the legendary creatures known as Quetzalcoatl.

Salazar Slytherin had been an explorer. An adventurer before he decided to settle down in what is now modern day Scotland and build a school with three other magicals.

Salazar had been everywhere. Salazar had encountered a Quetzalcoatl! He'd recorded his findings!

Harry had practically leaped off of his bed when he'd realised this! He'd finally know! He'd finally be able to know about them! This was almost as good as seeing one in person!

He now finally had an idea of the the legendary creatures actually looked like!

Bless Salazar's soul!

And Voldemort had given him this gift. This incredibly rare gift that many a Magizoologist would have loved to get their hands on. And instead, despite Harry's recent actions and the whole embarrassing him in front of Magical Britain, the man had still gifted him with such a priceless artifact!

Why? He was feeding into Harry's love of creatures by doing this, but hadn't he been mocking Harry's adoration and dream?

Why would the man do this if he thought Harry's interests were laughable?

Perhaps… Dumbledore was right and Harry had jumped to the wrong conclusion?

But if that was the case, what was the right conclusion?

Sirius Black was staring his littlest cousin down, wondering just what the boy had come all the way to Godric's Hollow for. Sure, Sirius didn't live there either, but at least he was actually friends with the Potter family.

"So what can Harry possible have that you need?" he asked, stalking around the blond who was bunched up on the kitchen chair.

Remus cleared his throat, sending his lover a look. Sirius huffed and sat down. Remus was no fun anymore. He couldn't even enjoy a good taunt here and there.

"Potter has information and I am willing to bargain for it, Lord Black," the boy said, though he was staring down at his knees.

Lily came in and placed a cup down in front of the boy. She took sent a glare in Sirius' direction. "Padfoot, leave him alone. Harry's friends are allowed to come over at any time. You should be happy that he has more friends than we originally thought."

Sirius sputtered defensively, though he was unable to come up with anything.

The door opened, and they all could hear the clatter of keys. Either Harry or James.

Harry walked into the kitchen and stopped short upon seeing Draco Malfoy sitting at the kitchen table, his mum standing protectively at the other teen's shoulder and Remus and Sirius staring him down from across the table.

"Is there something wrong?" Harry asked immediately.

Sirius' immediately response was cut off when Remus stepped on his foot under the table.

He grumbled and looked away. No fun.

The mini-Malfoy stood and straightened his shirt. The boy lugged back the entire cup of tea, regardless of the heat, and fixed Sirius' godson with a firm look.

"Potter, I come requesting information."

Harry merely quirked a brow, and summoned a cup for himself. As the tea pot floated on over to pour him a drink, the teen asked, "This about Hermione or the Dark Twat?"

Simultaneously, everyone in the room choked on something, be it tea or saliva.

The mini-Malfoy was flushed to the tips of his ears. "Please do not bring me into whatever is going on between you and the Dark Lord, Potter?! This might have something to do with Granger, though why you would even assume I don't know."

Harry shrugged. "As I said once before, Luna is clairvoyant."

He turned and sent a look over his shoulder. "Come on upstairs."

Sirius was left to blink as the two disappeared up the steps. Their footsteps going silent after a door shut.

The Black Lord looked toward his lover and asked, "Is that about what I think it's about?"

"Probably."

Lily clapped. "That's so cute!"

If what was happening, was what he thought was happening, then damn!

If the blond had his way, the next Lady Malfoy would be a Muggleborn. Who would have thought?

Harry shook the man's hand. The owner of the building hadn't done anything with it in the past three decades, and when Harry came along, offering a generous sum in order to take it off of his hands, he let Harry have it, including all of the objects within.

It was like the magical version of a pawn shop, and Harry decided to have a Magic Appraiser come in to make certain that nothing was charmed.

Once everything was given the okay, Harry ended up selling various items around London, and then exchanging the money at Gringotts. From there, Harry proceeded to the building he'd purchased.

Harry now owned 77 Diagon Alley. It was three stories high, with enough room to fit not only a personal greenhouse on the roof, but a medical wing in the basement. Harry would be taking the second floor as a live in space, complete with washroom, bedroom, kitchen, lounge, and office. The ground floor would be dedicated to the animals and creatures. He'd have to create specific habitats for different animals in the future.

Now that he had the building, said building had to be renovated. Harry was capable in the magical branches required for Magical Carpentry, but he was not trained in how to do such things, so doing it himself might cause problems. Harry could afford to hire help as well, so he simply went out to Knockturn Alley to find some assistance.

Also he would need to ward the place once all was said and done. Protection was the key.

It took a good part of August in order to get the entire building fixed. Harry was paying good money to expedite the services of the workers. Five wizards and three witches who worked nearly ten hours, five days a week for three weeks.

Honestly, it was much better than Harry had imagined, and they made the walls a nice, light shade of spring green. He liked it. It felt open. Cheerful even.

The building was finished officially on the twenty-first, with Harry and Luna getting ready to decorate.

Interior design wasn't exactly his thing, so Harry had called Luna in. Luna was an artist. She had painted her own bedroom with almost perfect replicas of her friends. Getting her input had been incredibly important to him.

"We want the waiting room to be warm and inviting," Luna said as she trailed a finger over the green wall.

"Landscapes would be nice. Maybe some floral artwork. Colours to complement this shade of green would probably be other shades of green, maybe some blues, browns, and bronze. I can probably paint you a few flowers to hang up, with bronze frames."

Harry couldn't help but wrap his arms around her shoulders. "I'll love you forever, Luna!"

While Luna was busy choosing the size of the paintings she wanted to make, Harry was trying to find furniture to fit her colour scheme. She had to scale the wall in order to get a good vision of where her work would go. Once she had the areas outlined, Harry was able to work around them by purchasing various shelves and furnishings to build the 'welcoming atmosphere' Luna said the room needed.

On the twenty-fifth, Harry went to get the business license necessary in order to actually start his business. Things were coming together.

He was glad.

"Honestly, I don't think anyone in my department knows what they are doing!" Hermione grumbled as she twirled her fork through her salad.

Luna gave a considering hum as she sipped her smoothie. Harry though, was busy trying to tear apart a crab that was being incredibly frustrating.

The three were eating lunch in Harry's kitchen of all places. Hermione was on her lunch break and was raving over the stupidity of her fellow workers at the DRCMC. This was also the last day before Luna was whisked off to Hogwarts.

"There's this horrid woman who gathered this ridiculous amount of 'proof' and 'examples' together because she wants to have House Elves labeled as Dark Creatures and have them classified as XXXX creatures."

Harry paused in his stabbing of his crab to look up. "Is she stupid?"

Hermione's snort was enough of an answer. If she wasn't reprimanding him for his lack of respect for an authority figure, then the person must be the epitome of stupidity. For shame.

"Why exactly does she want such a classification?"

"Because House Elves can Apparate through any wards that a wizard or witch sets up. Therefore, they are more dangerous than originally perceived."

Harry considered that for a moment. He was one of the few people to have considered just how truly dangerous a House Elf could be. All someone had to do was order their Elf to take an explosive to an enemy's house, leave it there, and then Apparate home. No one would be the wiser.

Everyone, even House Elves, were capable of horrible actions, that didn't mean everyone did them.

Yes, House Elves had the potential to be dangerous, but on the whole, they were fine. Also, XXXX classification was reserved for creatures that could just barely be controlled and domesticated. House Elves were easily domesticated and they could be taught easily.

So this woman's plan was foolish.

"What's her name?" asked Harry, though Hermione didn't get to answer, because Luna was already there, probably having expected him to ask.

"Dolores Jane Umbridge. She is… a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"She will become a nuisance in more ways than one, in the future."

Luna ceased her cryptic remarks then, going back to her super healthy smoothie.

Hermione huffed and continued to stab at her lettuce. Harry decided to just vanish the shell off his crab, because the bloody thing was too stubborn otherwise.

Now just what to do about Umbridge.

Watch her most likely.

Harry looked up from his reading. So far, he'd only had the usual visitors. A few cats, a Kneazle, an owl, and even one Fire-Crab. Until his reputation grew, his clientele would be small. Not that he minded.

The ward on the door shivered just a bit, letting him know that someone had entered the shop. Harry placed the book to the side and went out to greet his newest customer.

There was no one there. Or rather, there was no human there.

The being waiting for him was Nagini. Of all guests, he had not expected her. He immediately looked around for her master, wondering where he was.

§Hi!§ the snake bellowed, slithering on over and climbing his leg.

§I latched onto the white follower again. My master has been whinging and pouting lately, and he's been far too depressed to pay me the proper attention I deserve, so I decided to find you. Your scent has mixed around a lot outside, but this building is covered in your scent, so I knew I could find you here.§

Patting her head, Harry asked, §How did you get in?§

§I opened the door,§ she said simply. §Long ago did I master how to use your two-legger objects. I can even play a drum!§

For a second, Harry envisioned the Twylusk holding a drumstick with the end of her tail and just repeatedly bashing the poor drum with it. He also imagined Voldemort's annoyance and frustration over it.

It made him smile.

§What about your master? Won't he be worried about you?§

§Most likely, but I left him a note. I can write a little, though not with those quill things. They slip through my scales. Master gave me sticks of what he calls 'wax' and I can write a little with them!§

Voldemort bought crayons for his snake. Harry couldn't not withhold his snicker at that! The big bag Dark Lord actually went shopping in a Muggle shop to buy his snake some crayons.

This was the best revelation he'd ever heard!

§What did your note say?§

§That once he stopped being a twitchy hatchling, he can come find me with you,§ she hissed, bobbing her head in what was the snake equivalent of a shrug.

'Twitchy hatchling'.

§What is wrong with Voldemort?§ Not that he cared or anything!

§He has been sulking ever since you denied him. He does not understand that some mates have different requirements. He is a little slow to grasp that being strongest does not mean he is the best. He is scared to come and see you. He is afraid of more denial.§

She tutted. It was kind of funny.

§He reminds me of his first days in his new body, when his magic wasn't strong enough to make him look like the other two-leggers. Instead of being proud of how similar he was to the noble Serpent King, he would shed salty water and lock himself in his room. My master is still a hatchling on the inside it seems.§

Harry was brought up short. Voldemort cried when he was younger, because he looked like the 'noble serpent king?'.

§Who is the 'serpent king, Nagini'?§ Harry asked.

§The Basilisk.§

Voldemort cried because he resembled a Basilisk? So then… Voldemort's true form was actually the serpentine form and his 'glamour' as Dumbledore had called it, was the handsome Tom Riddle?

The the hell was going on?

A/N: Another is done!

-Half of the next chapter is done. I had waited to post this, to give more space between updates, and I ended up writing a bit of the next chapter.

How was it? Let me know!

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See ya! :D

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.