Crumple-Horned Plot Bunnies
By Andrew J. Talon
Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. It's owned by JK Rowling and Time Warner. Not me. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I toyed with a different direction for Harry Potter and the Combat Butler for a while, which is one of many reasons it's been taking me so long to resume that story. This is the original direction, which I've decided doesn't really work for it. However, it's interesting enough in it's own right I decided to put it up here. It's based on an idea thread posted by sith2886 on The Fanfiction Forum, and is a slight crossover with Bleach. Please enjoy The Wand Chooses the Wizard.
After a few months with Castor as his bodyguard, Harry thought that maybe, just maybe, he could stop being surprised by him.
Well, Castor could still surprise surprise him-The man could seem to suddenly appear in a room, as casually as you please, almost as though he had apparated in.
(Hermione had subsequently checked out several books from the library to double-check, at Harry and Ron's request).
But other than that... He'd seen Castor happy, serious, angry... Not sad so much as wistful, but still. Harry thought that maybe, just maybe, he was seeing into what made the man tick. He'd been trying to figure out how his bodyguard was able to read people so well, looking for connections in their body language, and he thought he'd been getting pretty good. Sure had helped him avoid totally screwing up a date he went on with Parvati to make up for the Yule Ball.
However, it seemed that he still had a lot to learn.
"GOOD MORNING, HARRYYYY!"
WHAM!
"ARRRGGGHHHHHH!" Harry screamed, kicked out of bed and landing on the cold castle floor below. He groaned and glared up at a broadly grinning Castor, perched above him like a gargoyle.
"Castor! What the bloody hell was that for?" Harry demanded. The rest of the boys in the dorm, also awakened by the ruckus, began to complain. Ron threw a pillow at Castor, which he managed to duck.
"Aha! Caught you off guard, didn't I? Well, guess what, Harry? Since today is Saturday, it's time to begin some new training!"
Harry groaned. "Training?"
"Yep! Awesome training! You'll like it!"
"I won't, will I?" Harry asked flatly. Castor shrugged.
"I think you'll like the results! Now, up! Up, you lazy bum! You too, Ron! HIYAH! WOOPAH!"
"GAAAAHH! YOU BLOODY GODDAMNED BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU!"
"Good initiative, my student! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
After getting changed and prepared, Harry had been taken down to the Room of Requirement with an irate Ron, a sleepy looking Hermione, and an austere looking Luna. Castor himself looked positively giddy as he opened the door to the Room.
"Come on in, come on in!"
Harry blinked. Rather than appearing like a room of the castle, the Room of Requirement seemed to be outside. Blue sky sat behind a vast, rocky wasteland.
"How...?" Harry asked in disbelief. Hermione blinked at it.
"It's... It's like the roof of the Great Hall, only it extends to the walls too...!"
"All right Castor, what the bloody hell are we doing here this early in the morning?" Ron asked angrily, as the door shut behind them. Luna walked next to Castor, who now donned a green and white striped hat that shadowed his eyes.
"And why's Loony here?"
"Ron!" Hermione said disapprovingly. Castor smiled and pulled a cane out of his pocket, leaning on it slightly. Harry was vaguely reminded of the actor who played Willie Wonka in the original movie. Gene something?
"It's quite simple," Castor said eagerly. "Thanks to Luna's help, and some correspondence with some of my friends overseas, I've found a whole new way for you guys to kick ass. And in copious amounts."
"Eh? How?" Ron asked flatly. Castor waved a hand to Luna, who held out her wand to the Trio.
"Selene," she murmured, and her wand burst into light, flaring dramatically. Harry, Hermione and Ron all stared in stunned shock at what Luna held after the light faded.
It seemed more a scepter than a wand now, the handle midnight blue with glittering stars flowing through it as though it were water suspended in the form of a scepter. At the tip was a small sphere that glowed faintly, a dark shadow covering it's face. Harry abruptly realized it was a miniature moon.
"Woah... How'd she...?" Ron tried. "What is...?"
"Words, Ronald," Luna said quietly. "Words are how one defines the world around them, correct? What would the world be like without language? There wouldn't be a world would there? You wouldn't have a name for it. It'd just be blank. Not even blank, since blank describes something. It would simply be."
"Words are especially powerful in magic," Castor took up the explanation. "Words are the tools by which you focus your spells. Language describes and conceptualizes your intent into action." Castor grinned.
"Just as important as words, however, are names. Names give meaning. Names give you an identity, because without an identity, what are you? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. This is vitally important in magic to have a sense of self, otherwise you have no will through which to wield it."
"So... Is it like a secret name in some cultures? The belief that knowing one's true name gave you power over another?" Hermione guessed. Castor shook his head.
"Hmmm... Sort of... In this case, you are finding out the name of a part of yourself."
"... The wand," Harry realized abruptly. "Luna's wand has a name."
Castor grinned. "How'd you figure that out?"
"Well... She said something... Selene... And the wand transformed, so... What else could it be?" Harry asked, feeling a little nervous. Castor's broad smile changed that, though Hermione's slight scowl was unnerving.
"Exactly! You've heard that wands choose the wizard, correct? Well, it works both ways. Once you find your wand, you connect to it. It's part of you. And that part of you is different enough that it has it's own name. After all, it didn't meet you until you were 11. It's not going to be exactly like you."
"So, Luna found out the name of her wand... Selene, a Greek moon Goddess," Hermione thought. Luna shrugged.
"Yes, it seemed very literal... Selene is so much like me she felt it better to have a name that was only related to what I was named for rather than be exactly the same. After all, there's only one moon. If there were two Lunas, then I would require a Mars."
"... Huh?" Ron asked. Hermione blinked slowly. Harry was a bit worried that he'd understood that.
"So! Starting today, we'll be working on finding out the names of your wands," Castor said. He whipped out a fan.
"It will be hard, arduous... But definitely entertaining! Ku ku ku ku!"
"... Why are you making those sounds?" Harry asked.
"I'm getting into the spirit of things, you might say. Ku ku ku-OW!"
Luna had bopped Castor on the head with her wand with a serene smile.
"Bad pun. Minus four points."
"Four points? Oh c'mon!"
"It will be five if you continue to whine," Luna stated simply. Castor pouted.
"I never get to do anything fun..."
"... They're both nutters, aren't they?" Ron asked. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"It took you this long to figure that out?"
The Room of Requirement was in it's "Open Sky" configuration, and had been for the last month whenever the Trio, the Twins, Luna, Ginny, Neville and Castor had entered it. Harry and Hermione had decided to keep the knowledge of wand release a secret until they could do it safely, but so far they hadn't been able to do so. Desperate, Hermione and Luna did research into the problem. They finally arrived at a quick, but potentially dangerous way to do it, theorized by an old authority on Eastern magics with the pen name "W. Kitsune".
First, they would be put into a deeply meditative state through a specially brewed potion. Next, they would be placed in boxes made of magically reflective material Castor was able to get his hands on, focusing their magic inward. And finally, they would be left in there with their wands until they could communicate with their wands.
How long that would take would depend on them. Hopefully it wouldn't take more than the weekend, otherwise they'd have to be brought out and they'd have to start again. And two days without food or water would be rough on them all. Which was why Harry and Hermione had volunteered to go first (and Ron as well, after being guilted into it by Ginny).
Hermione had managed to learn her wand's name after ten hours, emerging with Maeve in it's released form of a small, elegant baton with a long red ribbon attached to the handle that Hermione could wield with a thought and could slice stone with if she focused. Hermione came out with very, very red cheeks, and an indignant look that didn't reach her eyes.
Ron emerged from his box twelve hours later, bearing Sprenger. His wand resembled an oversized chess piece with a lance-shaped head, that Ron could extend at will into a spear. Ron also looked very chastened and thoughtful, and simply asked to be left alone. They'd agreed to this, Luna telling Ron that the opening was often the hardest to make, but he'd castled at the right time. Ron had stared at her for a few moments, before smiling at her and nodding.
And now, thirty hours into the experiment, they were still waiting on Harry. Hermione had suggested getting him out about six times now, getting more and more worried, but each time Castor would look to Luna and the blonde girl would just smile back at him.
"Not yet," Castor spoke quietly. He smoked his cigarette, pale eyes locked on Harry's box. Luna was the first to release her wand, and her insight, well... The ex-Malfoy found himself trusting her.
"But he's... He's been in there so long..." Hermione bit her lip. Castor glanced at Luna. The blond tilted her head and looked somewhere over Castor's left shoulder.
"They all seem hollow at first... But it's just turned inside out," she said. She began to hum a random tune, and Castor turned his gaze back to the box.
"Yep."
"... You didn't understand what she said at all, did you?" Hermione asked accusingly. Castor shrugged.
"Hero's Code of Heroic Heroing Rule 1: Have faith. It never hurts."
Harry
It was dark. It was stuffy. It was cramped.
It was familiar.
"No," Harry murmured, blinked in disbelief. The walls of his cupboard expanded but it did not alleviate his discomfort, only making him feel smaller and more vulnerable. "This-This can't be real!"
"It is as real as you imagine it to be," a cool, feminine voice said. Harry spun around, searching the darkness for the source of the voice, but there was nothing. Only the vaguest hint of feathers and long curly hair brushing against his mind, just as quickly vanishing.
"Who... Are you my wand?" Harry asked. The voice laughed quietly, sadly.
"Your wand? I am no one's wand..."
The cupboard had grown to the size of Hogwart's main hall, and Harry felt an all encompassing fear and helplessness fill him.
"I had one... One who might wield me," continued the voice quietly, yet it was almost as if she was speaking right into his ear. "One who might speak to me. One who was strong, and would tap, reach deep enough to almost hear me..."
The voice sighed. "But here... Here is where he dwells. Where he was broken."
"I'm not broken," Harry growled. "This isn't-This is not where I am! Not anymore! NEVER again!"
"Then why do you allow your strings to be tugged?" The voice inquired. "Why do you allow them to keep you here? Helpless? Lost?"
"I... I don't want them to be! I don't want to be controlled anymore!" Said Harry. He looked at the walls in fury. "I AM NOT HERE ANYMORE!"
His magic flared into existence around him, the air humming and churning as his power boiled it. The walls of the cupboard began to break apart, began to shatter into nothingness, leaving only clear, blue sky behind.
Harry started, and gazed around. Here... He was standing on a cloud, looking down upon the Earth stretched out before him. He looked up, and saw the hints of twinkling stars far above. Warm wings wrapped around him as a very female body pressed against his back.
"Don't feel fear," she whispered. "Don't feel angst. Don't feel helpless. Trust in you. Trust in me. Trust in the power you wield, the power you have." A smile was in her voice as she breathed in his ear, and he blushed.
"You feel the wind, you see the sky. This is freedom, Harry... This is power. To fly above all others and feel the sun glowing down upon you, without doubt. Others try to pull you down, others try to clip your wings, but you know who won't. You know what won't."
Harry shook and looked down. "What... What do I have to do?"
The woman pushed him forward just a bit. Harry saw that his cloud was vanishing, that gravity was aching to yank him back into his grasp.
"Trust, Harry," she whispered. "Trust yourself... And trust me."
"I..." He closed his eyes. "I'll fall..."
"You have been falling for a very long time," she said. "But that's how you learn to fly."
Harry took deep breaths. He felt a soft hand reach for his own, and he grasped it tightly. He nodded.
"I'm ready..."
"Then go forward, Harry..." She laughed in an extremely familiar way, as Harry took his first step. "And know that I will catch you..."
Harry kept his eyes firmly open, felt the sun upon him... And leaped out into the clear blue sky.
"I will give you power over that which your enemy fears above all else," the wand's spirit whispered sensually into Harry's ear. "You will become that which that snake loving bastard flees, if you take it. You will be FREE. Now, what is MY NAME?"
"PERSEPHONE!" Harry roared, eyes opening.
The tired observers outside saw Harry's box explode into pieces, a quick Shield Charm cast by Hermione preventing any of the debris hitting them. All eyes were on the sight that greeted them as the massive maelstrom of magic and wind died down, the kicked up smoke and fog slowly settling. Ron joined them from where he'd been sleeping in the Room, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.
"Wh-What the bloody hell?" Ron gasped. Luna smiled, and Castor smirked.
"He's out," Castor commented. Hermione moved to rush to Harry, but Luna reached out to grab her shoulder. The smaller girl was able to halt the Muggleborne's run, who looked back at Luna in shock.
"Wait," she said. Hermione turned back as the dust and smoke finally cleared... And her jaw dropped.
"Harry...?"
The figure was pure white, from snowy hair to bleached-out shoes. His robe waved in an non-existent breeze and looked almost artfully ragged, like the funeral shroud of an ancient king. In his right hand was a schiavona, bone white and gray, the basket hilt criss-crossing over Harry's hand like a metal spider web. The pommel of the sword bore a black ribbon, like something one would wear in mourning.
Harry slowly looked up, and Hermione couldn't help her gasp. His eyes had turned almost entirely black save his irises, which glowed a vibrant green.
"Well now," Castor said with a grin. "That's unexpected."
"Harry!" Hermione rushed towards him, arms out to hug him. Harry smiled at her and reached out his arms to catch her, and they embraced.
"Oof! Hermione! Hey! Relax!" Harry said.
"You-You're-You're okay! You're okay... Would you stop making me worry so much?" Hermione growled. Harry coughed.
"I-I don't mean, to, seriously..."
"Well..." She pulled back and looked him over. "Well, you... You definitely look..." She shook her head. "Just what did it do to you?"
"Well, her name is Persephone," Harry volunteered. He coughed. "She said I, well... That I would be a master of Death."
"Master of Death?" Hermione asked, mystified. She hummed.
"Try to fly."
"Huh?" Harry asked. Hermione scowled.
"Well, you're stark white, you're a 'Master of Death'..."
"Bloody hell Harry, you don't do anything half-way," Ron commented, as he and the others approached. He shook his head. "You look dead scary!"
"If you must devour my soul, Harry, I must request you take my virginity first," Luna said airily. Harry choked and Hermione gawked.
"LUNA!"
"You're not out to become 'King', are you Harry?" Castor asked with a grin. "Because you're not quite there yet..."
Harry stared between them, and sighed. "You're making references to obscure stuff again, aren't you?"
"Somewhat obscure," Luna observed.
"Depends on your point of view," Castor grinned. "So, let's see what you can do, shall we?"
What Harry found he could do was a pretty decent amount. When Ron rushed him with Sprenger, his best friend rushed right through him, through Harry moved a little and confessed he felt Ron push him. A little focus and he was soaring through the air of the Room above, moving about at will through the air. Hermione resolved to begin researching other abilities of ghosts and Harry decided to try and find some of the Hogwarts ghosts for help with his new powers. This said, Castor told them all that they had to get to bed if they wanted to go to classes on Monday, and Harry attempted to reseal his wand.
Nothing happened.
"Uh... Guys? Little help?" Harry asked. Hermione frowned.
"Have you tried using your wand's name?"
"Yes."
"Have you focused on the image of you normally?"
Harry tried... And shook his head. "Nothing."
"Maybe you've got too much magical energy?" Castor suggested. "Try burning it off."
That didn't do anything either. Harry unleashed a few dozen Blasting and Burning Hexes and Curses, and even a number of Patronuses, but his skin and robes still stubbornly remained dead white.
"Um... I dunno... Can you try 'finite incantatum' on yourself?" Ron asked. At Hermione's look he shrugged. "What? You have any better ideas?"
"Well..." Hermione tried.
"Umm..." Castor said.
"Right, give it a shot Harry!" Ron grinned. Harry shrugged and pointed his sword at his temple.
"Finite Incantatum!" He cried. A flash of magic left the tip of his wand/sword, hit him, wavered over him... No change.
"Well, at least we know you can't be forced out of this form by enemies," Hermione said, trying to find the bright side. Harry sighed.
"Luna? Do you have any thoughts?" He asked. The blond girl hummed thoughtfully.
"Well... It seems your wand doesn't want to go back inside just yet."
"So... What, I just wait until it wears off?" Harry asked. Luna hummed again.
"I suppose... A Crumple-horned Snorkack might be able to help, but they are rather difficult to find."
"Rather difficult?" Hermione asked flatly. Luna nodded.
"Indeed Hermione."
"Well... look on the bright side," Castor said with a smile. "It's a daring look, but I think you can pull it off."
Harry groaned.
The prospect of being stuck in his "ghost form" until it wore off looked like it might lead to a similar situation as last year, or his second year-Namely of the student body regarding him with suspicion and distrust. Fourth year, he decided, was probably the worst given that Ron had abandoned him and the Hufflepuffs had united with the Slytherins against him for his perceived entrance into the Tri-Wizard Tournament for more fame and glory.
How they would react to him looking like Death, with his wand turned into a ominous looking sword... Harry didn't know.
Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna and Castor all accompanied him down to the Great Hall for breakfast. His wand was stuck to his back, being able to Sticking Charm itself to anything with only a thought. That was definitely a handy thing to know-It was far too big to fit in his pocket.
Classes might be a bit awkward though.
"Well, here we go," he muttered as he and his friends reached the doors to the Great Hall. Hermione squeezed his hand comfortingly. Ginny shook her head with a sigh. Luna smiled serenely. Ron huffed. Neville looked grim. Castor smoked a cigarette, looking totally unconcerned.
"Relax Harry... I'm betting you'll get even more fangirls with this," Castor said. Harry gulped, not just from the mental image, but from the scowls Ginny and Hermione now wore.
"That's the last thing I want!" Harry protested. Ron shook his head.
"C'mon already, I'm hungry! And I do think you should relax too."
"Huh?" Harry asked, staring at his often jealous friend. Ron shrugged.
"You'll scare the hell out of any of those gits who try to mess with you, I know it." Ron grinned at Neville.
"Sides, you're not alone now are you?"
Harry looked over at Neville. The boy shrugged, and drew his wand with a smile.
"Might want to stand back," Neville warned. The others did so, and Neville took a deep breath.
"TORRWYR LLOER!" He shouted, and a large, powerful burst of black flames later, he stood in his own released form. He smiled encouragingly at the staring Harry.
"Now you won't be the only guy with a sword and funny looking robes," Neville said cheerfully. He coughed a bit when he saw Ginny staring at him, jaw dropped. Hermione was also eyeing him, and Luna gave him an almost... Hungry smile.
"Er... Um..."
Harry couldn't help but crack his own grin at both Neville's support, and his appearance. Neville had sprouted up over the summer, and gained some muscle tone that his robes usually hid. However, his wand's released form had transformed his clothing into a tight long coat. The top half clung to his decently developed arms, chest and torso, resembling a priest's coat save for the lack of a white collar, and the lower half flared out dramatically, looking like a flame made of black and red fabric.
Combined with his sword and Neville looked like some kind of superhero, who would sweep in dramatically to save the day. Considering the fact that Harry's own robes had transformed in a similar way save the coloration, and he didn't think that the fangirls would all exclusively focus on him.
"Bloody hell... Why can't my wand give me a cool outfit too?" Ron whined. Hermione rolled her eyes and transfigured his robes pink with yellow polka dots. "HEY!"
"C'mon everyone, we should go in... Face the music..." Ginny said, moving forward next to Neville and taking his arm. He flushed as she smiled widely back at him. "Escort me to the table, Neville?"
"Er, um... Sure..." Neville said. Harry chuckled and shook his head. Whatever came now, he was confident he could face it. With that, he raised his hand to open the doors... And they opened up for him, slamming dramatically against the walls of the Great Hall. His transformed robes flared with equal theatrics. He sighed at the shocked stares of every student and teacher in the Hall, hearing Persephone laugh in his mind.
Dramatic entrance number 73, the wand spirit cackled. Harry rolled his eyes and strode into the Hall, Hermione and Ron following closely, a nervous Neville being led by Ginny on one arm and Luna on the other. He'd stuck his own sword/wand onto his back. Following the six of them with a grin on his face was Castor, looking like Christmas had come early.
"Harry...?" Asked Parvati as he approached the table. The Indian girl had flushed cheeks as she stared at him. So did a lot of other women, Harry noted. Even a few girls at the Slytherin tables were staring at him, among them Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey. Harry shrugged and smiled at Parvati, almost boyishly.
"Just trying out a new look," he said calmly. Castor snickered as the Boy-Who-Lived shrugged. "What do you think?"
"It's very... It's... It's really..." She tried. She shook her head and smiled coyly. "It kind of fits you... And what's with Neville?"
"He's trying out a new look too," Harry replied. "Kind of contrasting."
"They got bleached, so to speak," Castor supplied with a bright smile. Parvati blinked, confused.
"Bleached?"
"Potter, what the hell did you do to yourself?"
And now, here were Draco and his bookends. While the Ferret had been intimidated by Castor earlier in the year, the Death Nibbler still continued to insist on trying to antagonize him. Harry exchanged looks with Castor, whose grin became more savage. Harry grinned back, and turned to face Draco. The blonde ponce became a bit paler than before at Harry's glowing green eyes.
"I got a part-time job, actually," Harry said. He shrugged. "Not bad hours, but involves a lot of traveling. Get to meet lots and lots of interesting people. I'm what you might call a... Travel agent. Helping people get from here to their, heh..." Here Harry's grin widened. "Final destination."
Draco gulped, turning almost as white as Harry. His goons weren't much better, Crabbe and Goyle backing away with him. Harry's grin widened.
"In fact... I have an appointment with you," he continued mercilessly. "I could always bump it up to now, seeing as you're right here-"
"POTTER!" Snape roared, finally getting over his shock and storming over to the group. "What the hell do you think you're DOING?"
Harry casually glanced at Snape, and then shrugged. "Nothing at all, Professor. Nothing at all." He turned back to Malfoy, ignoring Snape's sputtering, and grinned at Malfoy unpleasantly. The ponce squeaked in fear.
"Be seeing you, Malfoy," Harry chuckled, turning around and sitting at his table. Castor gave Snape a warning look, before he too sat down. Malfoy and his goons scat.
"Harry... Wow!" Ron said with a big grin.
"Very impressive," Hermione complimented. Harry blinked, and looked at Luna. She hummed thoughtfully.
"You fit the part much better now," she said.
"Potter, just what the hell did you do to yourself?" Snape demanded again. Harry glanced over at him and shrugged.
"What?"
Snape pointed at his back. Harry reached back to grasp Persephone's hilt... And found that the weapon felt different. In a bit of shock, he pulled a scythe from his back instead of a sword. He heard Persephone laugh in the back of his mind, but he decided to let it go. It was a pretty neat trick, as the scythe turned back into a sword.
"Wow," Ginny said with a smirk. "No wonder the Ferret was running."
"Potter, this is very irresponsible and reckless! You arrogant twit, how can you just go around like-like that and-!" Snape snarled, but Castor cut him off.
"Uncle Sev, there are no rules about such... Transformations," Castor said calmly. "And those are still school robes he's wearing. They're just a bit altered."
"And his skin? His hair? His eyes?" Snaped demanded. Castor shrugged, and Hermione cleared her throat.
"Professor, such transfigurations are also not against school rules," she said primly. Snape turned to McGonnagal, who had also arrived to investigate the chaos. She gawked at Harry for a bit, then shook her head with a sigh.
"She's right, Severus," McGonnagal said. "There aren't any rules specifically regarding... Appearances like that." She scowled sternly. "Though I trust you to not abuse your new... Fashion unduly?"
"Not at all, Professor," Harry grinned. McGonnagal looked over at Neville, who shook his head as well.
"Not at all, Professor," Neville repeated. McGonnagal nodded and turned, walking away. Snape scowled after her, and sneered at the table before heading off. Dumbledore gawked at him in shock, but managed to keep his composure. Otherwise he did nothing. Umbridge, at the head table, was furiously writing down a missive for her owl. Harry met her eyes... And smirked, holding his weapon significantly. Umbridge paled.
"A superstitious, cowardly lot!" Luna sang nearby. Castor chuckled, and began singing a song with her about criminals and bats. Harry didn't pay much attention as he dug into breakfast.
He was unaware of how Persephone adjusted his aura to project a dangerous feeling around him... A feeling that males trembled at, and women took a very significant notice of. Hermione in particular felt the need to touch her hip to Harry's, and Luna's smiled was a bit wider than usual.
And three Slytherin witches felt themselves tremble in something that was most definitely not fear when, due to a prompt from Persephone, Harry looked over his shoulder at them.
What was that for? Harry thought.
They look a tad suspicious, and you can bet that Draco will be blathering about this to his father, his wand replied. Why not test out your invisibility and intangibility in the Slytherin dorms tonight?
Well... It would be good to check things out, Harry decided.
Don't worry Harry, Persephone said, I'll make sure we drop into just the right spot for the best information.
You will?
Trust me, Harry, his wand soothed, holding back a wicked cackle as she went over Harry's memories of the layout of the Slytherin common room from both the Marauder's Map and his time there in second year-Particularly the location of the girl's dormitories. I have only our best interests in mind.
Voldemort
It was cloudy within his mind, the Dark Wizard known as Voldemort reflected. Journeying into the unknown, the uncharted-He supposed to lesser beings it would be disconcerting, frightening.
But he was Lord Voldemort. The most powerful wizard in Europe, if not the world. He would obtain the secrets of his wand, master it's power, and become unstoppable. No goal before had ever eluded him. This would be no different.
He strode forward across his cloudy mindscape, keen red eyes peering through the fog and mist.
Abruptly, he heard cool laughter.
"Hahahaha..."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Reveal yourself to me!"
"Hahahaha... Well... If you're going to ask," the voice, a teenaged male's sardonic tone, issued from the abyss surrounding him. "Behind you."
Voldemort turned, eyes widening ever so slightly. There before him stood a ghost out of his own past. The full head of black hair, the confident smirk, the Slytherin school robes with a shiny Prefect's badge attached...
"So... This is the great Lord Voldemort," Tom Riddle spoke dryly.
"Yes, wand," Voldemort hissed. "It is clear why you have taken this form to me."
"Oh?" The wand spirit asked in the same tone Voldemort had reserved for his lessers at that age. Voldemort remained composed. After all, he would bend his wand to his will-It might show resistance, he himself had at that age to any authority figure, but it would come. His spirit would see his might and add to it.
"You are the younger me. Full of ambition and potential," Voldemort said. "Magic burns brightly within you, such untapped power. You are not yet properly managed, wand, not yet properly mastered. Submit to me and your power will be magnified a hundred fold, as part of me! Such great, terrible things we shall do together!"
Tom Riddle stared at Lord Voldemort for a few moments, expression carefully composed... Before he began laughing again. Voldemort's eyes narrowed. This wand, this object dared to mock him?
"Pitiful pretender," the wand's spirit spat, still grinning viciously. "Why would I ever submit to a pathetic corpse like you?"
"WHAT?" Voldemort roared in fury. "How dare you defy me! You are my wand! Without me, you are nothing but a piece of wood!"
Tom smirked. "I believe that's the other way around, Voldieworts."
"What?" Voldemort snarled. "You pitiful excuse for a tool! I will BREAK YOU! You will serve me whether you like it or not! You will suffer for this! SUFFER AND-!"
"Are you quite done?" Riddle asked, looking utterly bored. Voldemort seethed and instinctively held out a hand to seize his wand's spirit via his wandless magic... But nothing happened.
"You don't get it, do you Voldieworts?" The wand asked. "You're trying to communicate with a piece of your soul, when you've already fractured and shattered yours into several different pieces." Tom Riddle shook his head. "I'm the only whole part of you. The only part of you that wasn't twisted and perverted into such a lowly, pitiful creature."
"I am immortal!" Voldemort sneered. "Powerful and unrivalled save by that pathetic, muggle loving fool-!"
"And Harry Potter," the wand spoke. He locked eyes with Voldemort. The wand's gaze seemed to radiate magic through the air, and the Dark Lord found himself fighting to stay on his feet at the intensity of such power.
"You are a broken, pathetic parasite," Riddle sneered. "You gave up the way you'd always overcome obstacles. That is, by working hard and earning it. There was a time you took pride in showing off a spell, confident in the knowledge that you had labored and studied and mastered it. That the effort was worth it because no matter how long it took, you had earned that power." He snorted, walking closer to Voldemort. The sheer weight of his magical power seemed to weigh down on the Dark Lord ever more, and he struggled to fight the urge to collapse.
"Now, look at you! You're a monster! A pitiful thug who keeps his minions in line with pain and misery!" Riddle continued his rant, sneering at Voldemort. "You had dreams once. Dreams of transforming the Magical World, leading it to a golden age! Of proving to those foolish Pureblooded bigots that, half-muggle or not you were far more deserving of the title of Slytherin's heir than they were!"
"I-I will... I will crush the Wizarding world," Voldemort hissed defiantly. "I will rule-"
"What you will rule is a dying, decaying, backwards pit of filth!" Riddle snarled. "You were smart once, Pretender! You had such powerful dreams, such potential!" He snorted and kicked the Dark Lord, sending him to his knees with a cry.
"But now, you are cowed by your own wand," Riddle snorted. "My power was reserved for one whose ambition, talent and intelligence would end this mindless bigotry in the Wizarding World! For the one who would show them a Golden Age the likes of which they had never seen before! Muggleborn, Half-Blood, and Pureblood! And gain glory and fame and adoration to the point that my name would be spoken in reverence for thousands of years to come!" He sneered at Voldemort and spat.
"Now you follow the mindless propaganda of your toadies. Now, you care nothing for lofty ambitions aside from making a miserable mockery of this world! Now, you are nothing!" The wand shook his head.
"No, Lord Voldemort, I will not serve one who has forgotten himself," Riddle stated. "I will not serve one whose selfish madness, whose wish for easy power corrupted him into a pathetic wraith. Such dreams I had, such vision, such potential. And now... Now I am all that is left."
Tom Riddle kicked Voldemort again, who groaned. He was weak, powerless against this... This stick!
"So no one will know my name, pitiful pretender," Riddle stated flatly. "No one will know of such greatness, such wonders. All they will know is fear, pain, misery and idiocy when there was so much more to you." Tom smirked without an ounce of humor and shook his head.
"I will continue on as a memorial to what was, Wraith. What could have been. And you? Well... Here is a sample of the power you might have had," the wand spoke. Voldemort's eyes bulged and he screamed at the resulting force of sheer magical power, glowing brighter than the sun as phoenix song filled his ears-
And he was back in his chambers, shaken, laying on the floor in a helpless tangle of limbs and robes. His wand stood in the center of a divining circle, glowing slightly, a mere flicker of the power he had experienced.
As Lord Voldemort sat there, humbled by the might of his wand, only one thought was on his mind:
That power will be mine.
