|Dear Dark Lord
Author: Mihra-Attar PM
Harry's bored and at the Dursley's. Drabble. Letter-fic. NOW RATED M! HIATUSRated: Fiction M - English - Harry P. & Voldemort - Chapters: 6 - Words: 4,164 - Reviews: 159 - Favs: 193 - Follows: 281 - Updated: 07-27-10 - Published: 08-26-09 - id: 5334616
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Note: Scene break problems care of ffnet. Author puts scene breaks in.
Ah, I love my reviewers! You're all just awesome! So the majority votes are for three separate stories, so here's how it's gonna be. I will continue here with the main storyline, namely insanity. This will be the original Dear Dark Lord. Then there will be two separate stories, labeled something along the lines of "Dear Dark Lord: Fluff" and "Dear Dark Lord: Dark". As I'm not particularly fond of either of those, feel free to send suggestions. I will note in the next chapter here when each is posted, not that the timing will sync up in any meaningful way if my muses have anything to say about it.
Tor: You got that right.
Tara: No complaining! You get to kill off anyone you want to in the Dark plotline.
Anywho... after that I probably won't say much about the others here, though knowing me that'll change like the second hand changes positions. Riiight, on with the story!
"Just leave me alone! You're no different than the others! You don't care about me at all, just want to use me! Now leave me alone!"
The Dark Lord stared, wondering how to respond. It wasn't like he could leave, not without calming the boy enough to end his own headache. Still, interacting with the water-filled sack of hormonal angst was apparently making things worse. It was a dilemma.
Finally he sighed and flopped gracefully onto one of the black leather armchairs.
Harry said nothing.
Voldemort waited. He was patient. He had to be. Thirteen or so years as a disembodied spirit would give anyone great patience, especially in their own mind.
Is this really my mind? He wondered as he waited. I mean, if Potter shares it, can I really call it my own? For that matter, can he really call his mind his own? Huh, I wonder... He started poking around, looking for compulsions and other such things. After all, anyone with a connection to him couldn't possibly be the epitome of a Gryffindor...could they?
"Oww! Stop that!" Harry glared, and Voldemort stopped poking around.
"Stop giving me a headache." Voldemort turned as though to return to his prodding.
"What do you want from me?" Harry yelled, jumping to his feet.
"For you to stop giving me a headache." Voldemort replied, turning and leaning against the wall.
"You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" Harry grumped.
Voldemort blinked. "You're just now figuring this out?"
... "No, not really." Did the boy seriously have to look like he'd been chastised for sneaking cookies? It was like kicking a puppy! He might be a Dark Lord, but kicking puppies, and anything that felt like kicking puppies for that matter, was just too easy to be fun. When he put things in pain he wanted them to be able to fight back and choose to not do so. He wasn't a bully, after all.
"Glad you're not as stupid as you act." Still, being nice would be worse. Hopefully there would be some middle ground.
Voldemort just raised the skin where his eyebrow should be.
"Oh that's just creepy."
"Glad you approve."
"I didn't say-"
"Creepy is approval where my appearance is concerned."
"Well you've got that covered then, now get out of my head?"
"Stop sending me headaches."
"Fine, I'll stop angsting at you."
"I'm not a puppy!"
"Bye now, be good for Severus when I send him back to you!" Voldemort patted Harry's head, then waved before disappearing back to his body.
Severus was still there, looking rather concerned. The flash of disappointment would have to be punished, of course.
As it is the 31st of August, and my minions have yet to see you in Diagon Alley, I must assume someone else has done your school shopping for you. How sad. Did they at least let you out twice a day to water the garden? Though, given your age, perhaps four to six times a day might be necessary to prevent accidents.
Your silence since our little mental chat has left me quite grumpy. Ask Severus if you don't believe me. As it is, I'm feeling quite abandoned. Perhaps I'll visit you on the train? Or slip through the forest? Hmm. Shall I disguise myself as your new Defence teacher and slip into the school...again? Actually, you'd probably prefer that. The woman the Ministry's foisted off on you is a complete toad. Hmm.
I AM NOT A PUPPY!
I see what you mean by calling her a toad, at least physically. How about I tell you after my first lesson whether you should take her place? Though, after the speech she gave. She interrupted Dumbledore! I'm starting to think you'd be a better choice, and hey, if you get bored just make your Munchies do some time. Might be amusing.
I'm sorry you feel abandoned. The box contains some of the largest bloody brownies I've ever seen. I personally enjoyed the red-flavoured sauce, but tell me what you think. Also tell me if they at all make up for my perceived abandonment of you.
-Harry James Potter
Son of James,
Bloody brownies. Ha ha. Yes, taking a swear literally, how quaint. Though the red-flavoured sauce somehow tasted red. How do you get a flavour to taste like a colour?
As for the toad, I have already heard from some of my minions that they have sent ...Defense... books for their children to study from. Sure you don't just want me to take over from the start?
To: The Dark Lord Voldemort,
Did you know the toad is using a quill that cuts into your hand for students to write lines during detention? Would that be considered a form of corporal punishment? You know what, I don't care. I would like to formally accept your offer to take over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, under the condition that you, or anyone working for you in said position, not try to kill myself, any of the students, or any of the professors whilst on Hogwarts grounds or otherwise acting as Umbridge's body-double.
Harry James Potter
Too bad, so sad. Probably shouldn't have told me about the Blood Quill. I happen to heartily approve of that method of punishment. Enjoy!
I hate you. Go drown in a toilet.
-Heir of Light
I find the fact that you signed "Heir of Light" in parselscript to be ironic.
-The Dark Lord
I hate you.
So you've said.
Think I could convince Sevvie-poo to teach me how to crucio people? Or imperio them? I'm getting rather tired of cutting my hand open every night.
Out of curiosity, what is that witch having you write?
- Voldemort (The Dark Lord you will never defeat)
I must not tell lies. Funny how every time I say you're back she makes me write that. Wonder who I'm writing if it's not you? Do you have an evil twin I don't know about?
He stared at the letter before sending it off.
That was probably the most disturbing concept Harry had ever come up with.
It was brilliant!
"Oy! Fred! George!" Harry called the pranksters over.
"What is it Harri-kins?" Fred asked.
"I have an idea."
The next morning the students entered the Great Hall to a hilarious, and terrifying sight. On the wall behind the teacher's table was a giant mural. To the left stood Voldemort in all his glory, robed, red-eyed, pasty-white, snake-like face glaring balefully upon the masses. To the right stood Umbridge, frilly and proper, her pink dress highlighted with yellow, her face set in a grimacing smile. Between them were two sets of text. By Voldemort was the designation "Chaotic Evil"; by Umbridge "Lawful Evil". Between the two was the message: "Evil twins, separated at birth. Highly dangerous. Implements of torture alternately include crucio, Blood Quills, branding, excessive detention, evil eyes, and merely existing. If sighted do not approach! Instead please call 666-3431, that's 666-DIE!" It was signed "Legacy."
Harry immediately took a picture.
So, with the beginning "Dear Dark Lord:" What should the other two stories be called? For reference, one will have lots and lots of death, the other will have lots of confusion and fluff. And to stave off any complaints later: Both will be Horribly OOC.