Keeping The Dark Lord (on his toes)

Chapter - 1 ( prologue )

Voldemort was deeply frustrated as he allowed his magic to slam the door shut behind his Death Eaters as they quickly moved to leave the estate. He sat back in his throne-like chair and allowed his glamour to fall as he briefly debated on calling one of them back to get rid of his anger, but none of them had done something, so far, to warrant an extra round of the Cruciatis curse.

Six years…six bloody years of trying to catch a teen that seemed to be slippier than an eel and quieter than the Grey Lady on a bad day. He’d seen neither hair nor hide of the boy ever since he’d won the war in the boy’s fourth year and that made it all the more frustrating. How did the boy manage to evade him and the detection of the ministry? Surely he’d have to use his wand for something?

And yet nothing happened. Voldemort had been sure that the boy was planning some kind of rebellion after Dumbledore finally died under his ‘care’ in the same year that the Dark side won, but again nothing seemed to happen, as if the boy truly didn’t care. Now he was 17 years old, and Voldemort found himself wondering whether the boy had been waiting until he was of legal age all along. Though his birthday had already come and gone a few months back and still nothing happened.

An excited hiss caught his attention and his eyes followed Nagini as she slithered into the room, “:: It’ss here, it’ss here! Come quickly, come look!::”

Voldemort lifted a brow in surprise and a strange feeling replaced the frustration and settled in his chest. There were only three things that made Nagini so excited; letting her eat a person, buying her a new heat stone…and finding another present addressed to Voldemort from his secret admirer (read ‘stalker’).

He didn’t even have to think twice as he immediately stood and followed Nagini through the door. He carefully kept track of where she was heading, and he was surprised to find that their destination seemed to be his potions lab this time.

The very lab that was warded with every possible Parseltongue and Latin wards he could think of, with a few Egyptian wards in between, and yet his mysterious stalker had still managed to get in and leave him a present, without breaking them.

Voldemort wasn’t going to lie to himself…the mere thought that someone could so easily slip past his wards had him on edge. Yet he knew that if the mysterious person had wanted to harm him, then they wouldn’t have basically given him the light side on a silver platter.