A Snake Named Voldemort

Chapter 7

:What gives?: Harry demanded as he climbed the stairs to reach Gryffindor Tower. His mood was decidedly unsavory, what with a sore hand from the torturous copying during Snape's detention and the irritation over Voldemort's little escapade. Really, if the man already didn't want to kill Harry, he would be the death of him from just how much of a handful he was.

:You're willing to get caught running loose around Snape's office but you aren't willing to reveal your situation to Lucius Malfoy, an actual loyal Death Eater?:

:It was worth the risk,: Voldemort responded, indifferent to Harry's near-concern...because that's what it was. Harry maybe wanted to deny it, but he had been worried that the Dark Lord's impatience was going to get him into trouble; after all, it's happened before, Harry thought with a slight shake of his head. Somewhat frustrated with all that had been occurring to him lately, he blew his dark bangs out of his eyes as he heaved a heavy sigh.

:So...was it? Worth the risk, I mean.:

Voldemort nodded, a gesture Harry saw from the corner of his eye. He was still amused at the human expressions the snake managed to use.

:I know definitively there is a space beneath the floor. The scent is strongest behind the desk near the back of the office.:

Harry sighed again. :Snape knows about the Parselmagic now...getting into his office may be more difficult now.:

:Indeed. You may want to research wards in preparation.:

Great; more work.

:We're going to have to wait until he is completely gone from the castle,: Harry continued. :Let's hope he actually leaves over the hols. I think he suspects you, but can't prove it. I'm beginning to think I should have Obliviated Malfoy. We already suspect he told his father as well...saving your arse just made my job harder.:

Harry laughed over the absurdity of that statement. He was, after all, the Chosen One to defeat the Dark Lord, not save him. He was working in the opposite direction, and really was quite literally making his own job harder. But he had to face the truth; he found saving people easier than killing them.

If only saving Voldemort and defeating him was the same thing...

Voldemort grumbled something indiscernible, perhaps uncomfortable with the notion of his rescue.

Harry stepped in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, but delayed saying the password in favor of making one last comment to the Dark Lord in disguise.

:Next time you decide to be a Gryffindor, warn me will ya?:

:Only if you never Accio me again. How uncouth.:

Harry had the audacity to giggle.

"Ah, Harry, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Harry glanced up from the stone floor of the hallway he'd been walking through to meet the ever gleaming eyes the Headmaster.

"Of course, Sir."

Dumbledore sidled up next to Harry and walked beside him. "I see you've signed up to stay over during the holidays. I had thought you would rather stay with your friends. May I ask why you are not?"

Harry felt a twinge of panic and tried to erect the barely-there Occlumency shields he had developed with the book Voldemort suggested. But it had only been a few days of practice, and Harry knew they were mostly useless. So Harry just kept his eyes forward and tried to not look bothered by the question, or at least not as if he had a secret.

"Well Sir," Harry started, "I'm worried about Voldemort. The incident with the Ministry has made me..." Harry swallowed hard. "It made me realize the sort of risks my friends put themselves in by being around me. Voldemort would stop at nothing to get to me. It would kill me if something happened to any of them because of me."