Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Characters.

Prologue; Chapter 1/9

This story came to me in the usual way…overindulgence of caffeine and sugar (is there any other way?) ^.^

The Dark Lord's Much Needed Vacation

Voldemort was tired. Who knew using a dark ritual to return his soul to a body, an insufficient, ugly body, but a body none the less, was so exhausting. Not to mention having to corral his Death Eaters into some sort of order. Ever since his original body was destroyed in his first attempt to off the Potter brat, his Death Eaters have been leaderless. What with half of his inner circle getting themselves caught and sent to Azkaban, while the other half either bribed or claimed that he, the Dark Lord Voldemort, Imperio'ed them, or both, but either way they repudiated him to get out of trouble. And, without any leadership whatsoever, the lesser intelligent of his followers have run amok.

For the last two years, when he wasn't trying to off the Potter brat and Dumbledore or trying to figure out that damned prophecy, the Dark Lord was rebuilding his army and trying to get them all trained once again. When he was first restored, he waited a few months, regaining his strength, not that he told anyone that, before he broke his loyal Death Eaters out of the wizarding prison. Voldemort also punished those who had denied him, especially those who called him a mad man in court. A madman, him? Sure, he might be a little extreme in his convictions, but he was not insane. Even if his past exploits would say otherwise…and he would burn any dictionary that said otherwise.

All of the stress had pushed Voldemort to this point, he needed a vacation, just a small one, but one nonetheless. The nagging thought that he had spent ten years as a spirit away from this kind of stress was quickly pushed aside with the argument that even when he was a spirit he was trying to gain his body back and that was stressful in itself. So feeling more than justified, Voldemort felt more than justified using the obscure spelled ritual he found in the Malfoy library last night.

The ritual would give him a pseudo body, a body in any form he wanted, and he would be able to manifest said body anywhere. Voldemort had it all planned out, he was going to spend his week in what the many witches of his youth claimed was his very sexy teenage body, on a Caribbean beach surrounded by lots of women with loose morals. He was hoping to laid, it had been twelve years since the last time, and that was with Bellatrix, who now looked as insane on the outside as she always was on the inside. And being completely frank with himself, he knew even a succubus would steer clear of his current form. Even he, the great Dark Lord, could not stand looking at himself in the mirror, which coincidently is the reason, all of the manors mirrors shattered his first night back.

To prevent his hard work in retraining his followers from fading away again, Voldemort was going to tweak the spell just a bit. With a little tweaking, once the spell sent his soul into his chosen pseudo body, the same spell would usurp one of the soul pieces from one of his various horcruxes and place it, temporarily, into his physical snake like body. When the week was over, he would return back to his body, his horcrux would regain its soul piece, and he would be much, much more relaxed. Nothing could go wrong with this plan, it was brilliant.

The night of the new moon, the darkest night of the month, had finally approached. Voldemort was very excited, for his spelled ritual called for the spells to be cast on the new moon. Sneaking away…no, not sneaking, Dark Lords do not sneak, strolling quickly making sure no one could see him, Voldemort made his way to the meadow he had prepared earlier in the day.

Upon reaching his destination, the Dark Lord disrobed and then strolled naked to the center of the field where a cauldron awaited him. Beside the cauldron sat a table holding a map, a spelled pin inserted in his intended destination on the map, a doll made of the purest white wax, and an old school picture taken of him at graduation.

Voldemort quickly picked up his old picture and pressed it into the wax figure, once done he gently lowered the doll into the simmering cauldron. Then, the Dark Lord grabbed the map, and put it too, into the cauldron.

Speaking in parseltongue, Voldemort started his chant, ~* For time of seven days. Chosen body, chosen place. Place thy soul in chosen form. Replace the space, with newest bit of thine own soul.*~

Completing the chant, Voldemort stepped back and waited for the ritual to take effect. The book did not mention a set time it took for the ritual to work, but he figured it would be instantaneous. After half an hour of waiting, the Dark Lord was livid. He needed a vacation and the ritual did NOT work!

Irked, Voldemort stomped back to his robe and donned it, leaving the field, and the parts of the ritual, as it was.

Upon reaching the Riddle Manor he called out for his most pathetic follower. "Wormtail!"

"Ye…ye…yes Mamamaster?" A fat and balding man whimpered as he entered the entry hall to cower before his master.

"Give me your arm Wormtail!"

Voldemort wasted no time as he snatched the pale, pallid arm that slowly rose from the shabby robes. Forcing the forearm up, the Dark Lord sharply placed the tip of his wand to the only part of Wormtail that was worthwhile, Voldemort's Dark Mark. Pushing his magic through his wand and into the Dark mark, Voldemort called forth Lucius Malfoy.

Within moments of the call being sent, Lucius Malfoy strode through the door. Seeing his master standing there waiting for him, Lucius fell to his knees and bowed.

"You called for me Mas…"

"Crucio!" Voldemort cut off Malfoy's voice. As the owner of the book the ritual came from, Malfoy was more than responsible for his anger. Soon the air was filled with the sounds of agony. Once Voldemort's anger had faded away to disappointment, he let up on the curse. By this time, of course, Lucius was no more than a puddle of whimpering flesh, painted white in pain.

With a last glare, Voldemort dismissed the two Death Eaters from his sight, stalking off to his room so that he could find his bed.

Harry tossed and turned in his bed, a common occurrence since the time Voldemort rejoined those with flesh. In fact the only thing that separated this nightmare from previous ones was the subject matter. Tonight's topic made Harry more appreciative of the Death Eater meetings he normally dreamed about. In fact, he might just be scared for life after the thought of Voldemort having sex with Bellatrix or playing with himself.

When the dreamed turned to Voldemort's plan for a vacation, and what the ritual would involve, Harry was intrigued. He watched as Voldemort set up the field during the day, then when he returned later that night and performed the ritual. When Lucius was tortured, Harry just cringed, this was more of what he was used to during one of these nightmares.

Used to the Voldie nightmares, he knew this one was reaching its conclusion when Voldemort prepared for bed. Harry mentally gagged, when Voldemort striped himself of his robe before slipping naked, under the sheets.

When Voldemort fell asleep, Harry expected to slip into his own dreams for the night. When he failed to return to his dreams or wake up in a sweat, Harry became confused with the situation. With nothing better to do, as it seemed he was stuck in the dream for awhile longer, Harry decided to count down the time.

He watched as the clock marked the time. When the clock struck one, he realized it had only been an hour since the ritual was enacted. He was still there when the clock stuck two in the morning, the only relief from his boredom were the few snippets of dreams he caught from Voldie's mind. Who knew the big, bad Dark Lord dreamed of cute baby bunnies?

Harry watched as the clock struck 2:58, when 2:59 came around there was a change in perspective. Harry's view of the vision went from third person observer to a first person view point. At the time of the change, Voldemort sprung awake in bed before falling back. When the clock struck three, the bewitching hour, Voldemort/ Harry was engulfed by a flash of fuchsia light. When the clocked struck 3:01am, Harry was alone in Voldemort's mind.

In control of Voldemort's body, Harry sat up in the bed. It seemed that Tom Marvolo Riddle had vacated his body, he was nowhere to be seen. Deciding it was time to wake up, Harry pinched Voldie's arm until it was bruised, he stopped when the pain registered. No matter what he tried, Harry could not awaken himself.

Then Harry remembered what he watched earlier this night, in all honesty, how could he forget Voldemort's ritual; it was just three hours ago. He guessed, based on the absence of Voldemort that the ritual worked. Voldemort must be off in the Caribbean lounging in the sun, having his vacation away from his duties. Harry was confused as to why he was stuck in Voldemort's body, considering the spell called for Riddle's soul bits. He was just about to chalk it up to the 'Randomish Shit Happens to Harry Potter' file before he recalled the conversation he had with Dumbledore before he was sent off on his annual summer torture session with the Dursley's.

According to the Old Man, Voldie was prepared to create his last horcrux, before he could place his soul into an object, he had the bright idea to off baby Harry and use his death as the required sacrifice. When his mother threw herself in front of Voldemort's first Avada Kadavra, her love for Harry gave him a shield of love…Harry thought Dumbledore was lacing his lemon drops with some really strong potions, a love shield honestly…so that when Voldemort tried to kill him in the same way, the 'love shield' repelled the ghastly green light, leaving a lightning bold scar on baby Harry's forehead, back to Voldemort killing his mortal body. And, according to Dumbledore, because Voldemort performed the required murder, his soul bit flew out and attached itself to Harry, turning him into Voldie's newest horcrux.

Harry did not want to believe that he had a piece of Voldemort's soul inside of him, so he did a little research via Owl Order on souls, minds, and meditation. After hours and hours of meditation, Harry was able to find his magical core and what he found socked him. One of the books, Know Thyself, had an entire paragraph on core and soul magic and how to cast a diagnostic on the two.

According to the diagnostic, when Harry was eighteen months old his magical core spiked in response to a powerful spell cast against him, he figured this would have been Voldie's Avada Kadavra. Just after his core fought the spell off, a leach made of dark soul matter was attached to his soul. Dumbledore was semi-right, Harry did become Voldie's horcrux that night. Over the next few years, Harry translated from the diagnostic, his core and soul magic banded together and 'ate' Voldemort's soul part…or at least incorporated into Harry making it apart of him instead of a parasite. The eating of Voldie's soul broke whatever the mental connection between Harry and Voldemort (Harry did not even know there was a connection, Voldemort having been a ghost for the years Harry was eating his soul and without a mind could not connect to Harry), allowed Harry to keep whatever powers he got the night of the attack (parseltongue and a talent for persuading people to his side) with no chance of losing them, and effectively destroyed horcrux (two down and several to go).

That meant, unfortunately for Harry, that he could, technically, be seen as a whole Voldemort of sorts by some soul magics. And, according to the dream last night, Voldemort was casting soul magic to use some of his soul bits, which meant that Harry was the 'wholest' Voldie soul bit around and so he was used.

Gathering his Gryffindor courage, Harry got out of bed (a nice bed actually) and made his way across the room to the wardrobe.

"Oh Merlin, my eyes!" Harry had forgotten that snaky Voldemort had stripped before he got into bed, Harry now in Voldie's body had the non-pleasure of being a naked Voldemort (a sight not unlike looking into a Basilisk's eyes…instant death). He whimpered as he bemoaned the loss of his young, Quidditch toned body, and gathered the discarded robe so that he no longer had to look at the pallid flesh he now inhabited.

Robed, Harry passed the bathroom (he decided he could hold it and that he didn't need a shower for awhile…he would just get dirty anyways), stopping only to grab the phoenix wand, before heading out of the bedroom. He knew Voldie sent all of his death minions home so he was alone in the mansion, well alone with Wormtail, but it was a big place and Voldemort couldn't stand the rat either so he would not be roomed anywhere close to Voldie's room.

Harry peeked into each door he came across…either Voldemort hired an interior decorator or he had a good sense of bed room fashion. The sixth door led to Voldemort's very impressive library. He had books on every subject from charms to defense to dark arts made easy to knitting (why he had a knitting section, Harry did not know…maybe Voldemort made evil tea cozies and sent them to the Ministry of Magic). At the back of the library, a bookcase was lit with spotlights; Harry figured those books had to be super special. Glancing at the titles, he started giggling. Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts; were just a few of the titles. All of the books in the bookcase were about Voldemort, any mention good or bad, he was such a narcissist.

Figuring he had a week to explore the library, Harry left to continue looking around the mansion. It was in the next room that Harry knew he hit the jackpot. Using the wand, Harry quickly tapped the lights on and gazed at Voldemort's office…the place where Voldemort made all of his plans and kept all his meticulous records. On the cluttered desk was the book Voldemort used for his vacation, a normal diary (filled with his lunatic thoughts and feelings for his snake…who according to the book was another horcrux), and hand drawn attack formations for several future attacks on Diagon Ally, Hogsmade, and several other magical communities all over the UK and Europe.

Harry quickly made carful notes of the plans on Voldemort's specialized letterhead stationary (the fact that he actually had specialized stationary

Lord Voldemort

All Supreme Dark Lord

with a stylized dark mark in glittery green ink just below the heading. Deciding a note to Dumbledore would be a good thing with the dark lord letter head, he scrawled out the note.

Dear Dumbledore,

Being the most awesome Boy Who Lived (just kidding, you know I hate that name), I broke into Voldemort's mansion. I found the following attack plans, thought you might want to show the order.


Harry Potter

Harry placed his note over the notes on the future attacks, sealed them in an envelope, and stuck the letter into the pocket of the robes he was wearing; he would have to look for an owl later.

Just to the right of the desk stood a filing cabinet, locked magically against anyone who was not the Dark Lord, luckily for Harry he was wearing his very own Voldemort suit. Opening the top drawer Harry found, in alphabetical order, files on every Death Eater ever in Voldemort's service. Harry pulled the first file and started to read what the first page said.

Name: Avery

Joined: August 13, 1975

Status: Currently Alive

Specializes in torture and rape, minor charms, lesser dark arts, and has a talent for painting

Comments: I don't really like him, but I don't much care for a lot of my followers.

Some files seemed to be thicker than others as they also had notes on funding given to the cause, raids they went on, and their performance in the group.

The second drawer had files of Voldie's special notes, spells he created, and personal affairs. The file that caught Harry's eyes was labeled Horcrux. Inside the file was a list of each horcrux, where it could be found, the defensive spells around each horcrux, and the counter spells to get at them.

That was when Harry got an idea. An awful, horrible idea, for Voldemort at least. He had one week in Voldemort's body. One week to take down the entire organization. One week to come up with an idea to take out Voldemort before he got back. With his plans formed, Harry went back to bed (robe on) as Voldie's body was still tired from doing the ritual all night.

I have the entire story planned out and the next two chapters written. I will be posting the next chapter in a day or so. There will be nine chapters, including the prologue and epilogue. Thank you all for reading my story, and please let me know if you liked it. Any critiques of this story are welcome as well. ^.^