Title: A Turn of Events
Author: Alexa Deimos
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Voldemort
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling and various publishers. Yesh.
Chapter One
Harry was silently panicking. Had he the use of his body, he would likely be shaking uncontrollably. As it was, his conveniently comatose body was lying amid the panicked shouting and cursing, not five meters away.
The only other inhabitant of his current location was also panicking. It was beginning to make him feel nervous. Whoever it was, the true owner of this body seemed to have lost all ounce of their magical power. Along with their wand.
If Harry really wanted, he could choose to see through the other’s eyes. However, he was tired and slightly fearful. He could vividly hear the screams and the chaos, and decided to stay hidden in the depths of this person’s jumbled mind.
Circumstances certainly weren’t turning out as Harry had hoped. The outcome of the ‘Final Battle’, as it had been suitably named, had become a confused mess. And if losing his body at the wand of Voldemort wasn’t enough, Harry most definitely was not happy when the owner of this body turned and fled into what could only be the nearby forest, if the snapping of twigs was anything to go by.
Eventually he dared to peer through the eyes of the anonymous body, and found that he was indeed being taken at full speed through a somewhat gloomy forest.
He soon decided that he was in the body of an enemy, most likely a death eater. What other rational reason would a wizard have for abruptly fleeing the battlefield? Besides the obvious fact that they had currently turned squib. The Order had clearly been winning, after all. Only minutes earlier Harry had been backed up by Aurors, friends, even Snape, before the inevitable exchange of killing curses that he and Voldemort had had.
In any case, Harry was unsure of what had become of Voldemort in the last few moments. It couldn’t be good. Harry sincerely hoped that the bastard was in a worst condition than himself, if not dead.
*
Harry woke with a jolt, realizing that he must have dozed off at some point. The body was panting heavily, leaning against a tree. It was almost dark when they began to move again, this time at a slow pace. It was when Harry was about fall asleep once more that the owner of the body stepped onto something particularly slimy that seeped into his shoes.
‘Ew,’ Harry thought when the man cursed.
The person came to a sudden halt.
Harry realized immediately that he had been heard. But whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, he couldn’t decide.
‘Reveal yourself,’ he heard suddenly. ‘I know you are there.’
Harry could feel himself take an intake of breath, although he wasn’t sure quite how, as the body hadn’t moved the slightest bit.
Unsure of himself, he settled on, ‘Er, hello?’
The body seemed to jerk slightly in surprise, despite its being sure of his presence.
“Who are you?’ the cold voice demanded, beginning once more to make way through the trees.
Harry suddenly felt an icy feeling creep through him. He was beginning to have a sudden suspicion of whose body he was in, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before.
He must have waited too long because the voice demanded, ‘well?’
‘Harry,’ he answered timidly, and immediately regretted it as cold anger washed over him from the other.
‘Potter,’ Voldemort stated, disgusted.
Harry was vaguely aware of that the conversation was taking place primarily in Voldemort’s head.
‘Just wait until I am rid of you, Potter,’ Voldemort was saying viciously. ‘You will soon regret that you were even born.’
Harry couldn’t help himself. He was exhausted and overwhelmed by what had happened, casting the killing curse and ending up in Voldemort’s body. He snickered, somewhat hysterically, and said, ‘That’s the oldest line in the book. At least think of something creative.’
He could feel Voldemort pause.
‘Besides, what can you do to me while you’ve got no power?’
‘Rest assured, Potter. I am quite certain that my power will return, perhaps even stronger.’
Harry could feel himself gulp. Voldemort smirked.
‘You fear me. Your bravery is convincing, but truly on the inside you are a frightened puppy, quite like the rest of those fools.’
Harry scowled. ‘I’m not,’ he replied sullenly, annoyed at his inability to come up with a half decent answer.
Voldemort didn’t reply. He was still trudging through the forest. Harry wondered where he was going, and asked.
‘That is none of your business, Potter. But if you must know, I need to find a place to recover quickly.’
‘Recover?’
‘Indeed. As you pointed out, I can hardly torture you when I am as weak as a muggle, now can I?’
‘But how long is it going to take? Do you actually know where you are going?’
‘Of course I know where I am going.’ Voldemort sounded irritated. ‘I picked this location to destroy you, did I not? I know this forest like the back of my hand. However, I do not know how long it will take. It may take hours, or months. Magic has different ways of returning.’
‘Right,’ Harry said, unconvinced.
After a while of sulking and wishing heartily that he knew what had become of his friends, Harry said petulantly, ‘Why couldn’t you just die?’
Voldemort inwardly laughed coldly. ‘That, Potter, is the question I have been asking myself for the last sixteen years concerning you.’
Harry sighed. He was tired of this conversation, and soon dozed off once more.
*
This time when Harry awoke, it was morning. Voldemort was still awake and alert, and Harry doubted that he had even slept. Not that Harry cared.
They, or rather Voldemort, sat against a tree in a small clearing. They were still in the same bloody forest.
‘What are you going to do now?’ Harry asked at length, wary of the silence. He could feel Voldemort thinking, his thoughts rushing and flickering. It was beginning to give Harry a headache.
‘Be quiet,’ Voldemort snapped, and returned to his thoughts.
‘No,’ Harry said irritably. ‘I want to know how long I’m going to be stuck with you.’
‘I said be quiet.’ Voldemort ordered coldly. ‘I am trying to decide what course to take from here. If you remain silent, you insolent whelp, you may gain something from this.’
Harry scowled but stayed quiet for a few moments. Soon the frustration became too much, and he stupidly blurted, ‘I’m bored.’
He suddenly felt Voldemort go entirely cold, making fear sweep through him like a wave. Harry shuddered.
Then, surprisingly, the Dark Lord became calm.
‘Potter,’ he said expressionlessly. ‘Truly, what do you expect me to do about your boredom?’
‘I don’t know,’ Harry snapped, his fear replaced with anger. ‘But I don’t want to just sit here in the middle of a stupid forest and wait for you to come to a conclusion!’
‘Then what do you suggest?’ came the calm but icy reply. ‘I cannot go back; the place is swarmed with aurors. In the direction we are facing, there lies a small village. That would mean walking fifteen miles. I cannot apparate as I do not have enough power.’
‘But you’re Lord Voldemort, for God’s sake! Surely you can do something.’
Voldemort gave an impatient sigh and returned to his thinking.
They sat there for so long that Harry felt himself beginning to nod off. Abruptly, Voldemort stood, jolting Harry awake.
‘The village appears to be the only alternative,’ the man said before Harry could question him.
Harry gaped. ‘It took you an entire hour just to come up with that?!’ he exclaimed.
‘Thirty-four minutes,’ Voldemort corrected. ‘I had other things to think about. Perhaps you ought to try thinking ahead sometimes, Potter. We certainly would not have been in these circumstances had you not blotched up a spell so royally.’
There was a moment of silence. Then Harry began to ramble and curse, and soon found that Voldemort had learnt to block him out. Either that or he was being ignored.
In the end he sighed in defeat. ‘I’m hungry,’ he informed Voldemort as they made the long journey to the village.
‘Do you see any food, Potter?’
Harry didn’t answer.
‘I wonder what happened to Nagini,’ he mused, and felt Voldemort scowl.
‘She was murdered by one of your Weasley comrades. I hope you are happy, Potter. Nagini was my friend long before your disgusting existence.’
‘Oh,’ Harry said, feeling some remorse for the snake. He used to have some snake friends in the Durselys back garden. ‘I’m sorry.’
There was a pause before Voldemort answered. ‘Whatever are you sorry for, Potter?’ he asked incredulously. ‘I would have done the same to any one of your friends.’
Harry scowled. ‘I know, I just…’
‘Save your compassion for someone who wants it, Potter,’ Voldemort said in vague disgust.
Harry sighed. It was going to be a long walk.
*
It was late evening when they reached the village. By this time Harry was hungry, thirsty and irritated, even though Voldemort had been doing the trekking.
‘At last,’ the Dark Lord thought, wearily.
‘Took long enough,’ Harry grumbled.
‘You ought to learn patience, Potter,’ Voldemort informed him as they moved through a small cluster of thatched houses to come to a large stone clearing in the middle. There didn’t seem to be many people about.
‘Where are we going to stay?’ Harry asked, ignoring him.
Voldemort didn’t answer. Instead he approached a slightly larger building at the end, which turned out to be an inn.
‘Have you stayed here before?’ Harry asked.
‘Years ago, yes. It is well hidden.’
‘I thought you said it’s on the edge of the forest? We’re still surrounded by trees.’
‘We are just on the outskirts. There is a lake nearby. Now be quiet.’
He entered the inn, appearing to sense no danger. It was busy and noisy inside, and currently seemed to hold the entire village population.
Voldemort did not seem bothered by this. No one took any notice of him or his strange clothes as he made his way to the barman. Harry soon noticed that all the inhabitants were muggles.
‘You’d stay with muggles?’ Harry asked Voldemort.
‘In this circumstance, yes.’
‘Most of them aren’t so bad, you know,’ Harry tried.
He didn’t receive an answer. Voldemort was conversing in hurried words with the barman, who gave a gruff nod and led them upstairs.
When the man had left, Voldemort said, ‘Have I ever implied that all muggles are bad? Although, I am surprised that you think the opposite, given the nature of your intolerable muggle family.’
Harry frowned. ‘How do you know about them?’
‘Well, my dear Harry. Being inside my head gives me the slight advantage of going through your memories. I must say, I was very interested in the ones concerning you and young Mister Malfoy-’
‘Shut up!’ Harry interrupted, knowing he would be blushing if he had his body. ‘That is absolutely none of your business!’
Voldemort only smirked.
After a moment, Harry muttered, ‘It didn’t work out anyway.’
‘Apparently. So, just how far did you go with Lucius’ son? I only saw the episode in the Trophy Room.’
Harry scowled, embarrassed. ‘I told you, it’s none of your business. Wait, can I do the same to you?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Go through your memories, I mean,’ Harry said hurriedly.
Voldemort paused. ‘I assume so. However, you will probably dislike what you see.’
‘Undoubtedly,’ Harry agreed.
A woman knocked and entered with a steaming tray of food and a large mug of…. well, something that Harry didn’t find too appealing.
But the food… ‘Yum,’ he thought when she left.
Voldemort sat at the lone table and began to eat, ignoring Harry’s exclaims of delight.
After a while, he said, ‘So what is it like, being inside my mind, Potter?’
‘I don’t know, but this food is brilliant.’
‘Naturally after hours of walking, I expect any quality of food will taste brilliant,’ Voldemort said dryly.
Harry ignored him. ‘It could be worse, though,’ he said. ‘I could be stuck with Malfoy, I guess. Senior, I mean. Or even Snape.’ Harry shuddered at the thought.
‘And that would be worse than me?’ Voldemort said with some amusement.
‘Well,’ Harry said absently, concentrating on the endorphins that shot through him every time Voldemort took a bite. ‘I suppose not. You’re right, it’s just as bad.’
‘I’m sure you’ll come to see that the feeling is entirely mutual.’
*
Later on in the evening, Voldemort paced up and down the room. He was, once again, ignoring Harry in favour of thinking.
Harry soon asked, ‘So how long are we going to stay here? You may as well answer or I’ll just keep pestering you.’
‘As long as it takes for me decide on a safe location,’ Voldemort retorted.
‘I refuse to go to Riddle Manor,’ Harry said after a long pause.
Voldemort stopped pacing. ‘Potter…’
‘What?’
The pacing was resumed.
Harry sighed. ‘Don’t you own a house or something?’
‘No. I have never had need of one.’
‘But…’ Harry was at a loss. How could someone so powerful not have somewhere to live?
Voldemort suddenly stopped his pacing. “Of course,” he murmured, discarding Harry.
“What is it?”
“I take it back, Potter. There remains one asset in my possession that cannot be located even by Dumbledore.”
Harry waited patiently for a moment. “Well?” he then said finally.
Voldemort’s lips curled up into a slow dark smile. “”Slytherin Manor.”
Harry blinked. He hadn’t even known there was a Slytherin Manor. Hermione had certainly never mentioned it, and she was one to acknowledge that kind of thing.
Of course, Voldemort being the heir of Slytherin would have inherited it, snakes and all.
“How will we get there?” Harry asked, feeling strangely intrigued.
“May I remind, you dear Harry, that although you and I currently share the same body, I remain the one in control here. Do not be so quick to presume that I will cooperate with you for any reason. There is no ‘we’.”
“I’m not presuming anything,” Harry sniped. “The sooner you find somewhere to settle down and work on my release, the sooner I can return to my own body.”
Voldemort, now satisfied with his resolve, ignored Harry in favour of thinking intently at the fire.
“Tom,” Harry said after a while, curiosity tugging at him.
The use of his former name didn’t appear to affect Voldemort for once. “Harry.”
“Why did this happen?”
“If you mean why did our repartee result in these circumstances, I can safely say I do not know,” the Dark Lord said, his improved mood seeming to dampen down his usual coldness of tone.
Harry frowned. It didn’t make any sense. Dumbledore had assured him that the killing curse would work. All of Voldemort’s Horcruxes but one had been destroyed before the battle. Nagini, as Harry had carefully asked, had been killed during the battle itself. Harry was suddenly aware that he was in Voldemort’s head and that it probably wasn’t wise to involve the man in his thoughts.
But the issue remained nonsensical. Perhaps Nagini had died after Harry sent the curse at Voldemort? However, Voldemort had immediately fled into the forest and probably did not have time to take notice of anything other than his escape. What did it mean? Harry paused. He had been unconscious during the gap between the duel and realising he was in Voldemort’s head. There always remained the option of looking through Voldemort’s memories.
If Harry used what little he had learnt of Legilimency to probe into Voldemort’s mind, he was able to distinguish thoughts from memory. Voldemort’s swirling thoughts were too fast and frequent for Harry to catch, which he was thankful for as it was likely the same in reverse. With a deep nonexistent breath, Harry dived into the most recent whirlpool of Voldemort’s memories.
They were back in the forest. Experiencing the memory through Voldemort’s eyes made the experience slightly different from watching through a Pensieve. Voldemort was sitting by a tree, stemming the blood streaming from a slash on his arm with some strange black leaves. Harry guessed that Voldemort had been hexed with some sort of cutting curse as he fled the battle.
A moment later, Voldemort rose, brushing the dirt off his robes, and continued into the forest, striding through the trees as if he were on a mission. Minutes passed before he abruptly stopped and became very still, apparently encountering Harry in his mind for the first time.
Harry needed to go further back. Retiring from that memory, he dived into the one involving his and Voldemort’s duel.
Being able to watch first-hand an encounter between himself and Voldemort was not something Harry had experienced before, and he decided that the whole thing seemed extremely dramatic. He watched Duel-Harry, matted in blood and dirt, shakily point his wand at Voldemort, eyes narrowed and breathing heavily. Duel-Voldemort, for the first time, had not spent the duel gloating; rather, he was quietly uttering a long spell, the affects of which Harry would never know as it was then that Duel-Harry fired the Killing curse.
Fascinated, Harry watched his own death; well, the death of his body. Duel-Harry’s spell hit Voldemort and backfired, effectively re-enacting the night of the death of Harry’s parents, except with the people mixed around. Duel-Voldemort, however, staggered, grasping his head with a scream. A moment later, having gathered his balance, Duel-Voldemort clutched his wand and his eyes found Duel-Harry’s body. His lips curved up into a satisfied smile. Concentrating fiercely, Harry watched as Charlie Weasley noticed Duel-Harry’s body, and then Duel-Voldemort, who smirked at him, raising his wand. Charlie immediately fired a spell. Duel-Voldemort quickly uttered a defensive charm – and nothing happened, as Harry predicted. The cutting spell sliced a large gash in his arm, which he had raised in time.
Harry quickly looked around, knowing that Voldemort would be running into the forest soon. He needed to locate Nagini. The snake was nowhere to be seen. People ran about, screaming. Voldemort didn’t seem to have been noticed yet; Charlie Weasley raised his wand again, and this time, Voldemort ran.
Harry sighed and withdrew from the memory. Voldemort asked him what was troubling him.
“Nothing,” he muttered, greatly worried. He needed to know why the spell hadn’t worked. What if what they had been destroying weren’t actually Horcruxes, but simply important relics?
Well, Harry thought, it was no good worrying about it now. Before he could do anything he needed to get back into his body, and that would only be accomplished by working with Voldemort, not against him.
This decided, Harry chose to be as polite as possible. At least, as polite as anyone could possibly be to the one who killed their parents and tried to kill their friends.
“What are you going to do now?” Harry asked as simply as possible, making sure to replace the ‘we’ with ‘you’.
“We are going to Slytherin Manor,” Voldemort decided. “I am trying to think of the most appropriate way of getting there.”
Harry frowned. “Will we have to use muggle transport?”
Voldemort sighed. “It would appear so. But for tonight, I will rest.”
“Okay,” Harry said finally, thinking he could do with some sleep himself.
Voldemort smirked. “Don’t get comfortable in my head, Potter. You won’t be with me for long.”
“Thank Merlin,” Harry said, already beginning to drift off as Voldemort lay down on the bed.
“Goodnight,” Voldemort said, mockingly.
Harry couldn’t smother his grin before he fell asleep.
*
The next day, after Voldemort had finally washed and collected more strange leaves for the cut on his arm – ‘To prevent an infection,’ he had explained – they, or rather Voldemort, had found a cart that agreed to carry them to the nearest large town, where they would be able to become one with the muggles and hopefully find a train station.
Although Voldemort naturally refused to give up the location of Slytherin Manor, Harry gathered that it must be in the
“What are you thinking of?” Voldemort asked as the cart began to pass the first couple of houses.
“Just wondering where it is,” Harry conceded, remembering his promise to be polite. It wouldn’t do him any good to snap at Voldemort every moment.
“You will likely never find out, Potter,” Voldemort said.
“Where are we now, anyway?”
“In a town near
“
“Why, yes. Do not tell me that you didn’t even know where the duel was?”
“I was apparated there,” Harry said faintly. He had had no idea they were in
Voldemort snorted. “Typical,” he said.
Harry forced himself not to scowl. He remained silent for the rest of the way, thinking about Ron and Hermione and the Order. He wondered if they were all okay. He realised he had no idea of what was going on; had the Death Eaters been captured? What would his friends think when they saw Harry’s body?
Harry’s train of thoughts was stopped as they arrived in the town centre, which was bustling with muggles shopping and rushing about. Voldemort, despite his scary appearance, succeeded in getting directions to the train station.
“But we don’t have any money,” Harry pointed out on the way there.
“Patience, Potter,” was all Voldemort said. It turned out that every muggle train station had a wizarding section, where wizards could make money withdrawals and buy tickets that renewed themselves, allowing them to make as many train journeys as they liked.
Voldemort, strangely enough, went unrecognised, and withdraw enough money, converted into pounds, from an account under the name Marvolo.
“Interesting,” Harry had quipped.
“Silence, Potter,” Voldemort said as they boarded the train.
“How long will this take?” Harry asked, looking at the few disturbed passengers who averted their eyes rather than look at Voldemort. Harry didn’t blame them.
“Nine hours,” Voldemort said with an empty sigh.
“What?” Harry demanded, deciding Voldemort was trying to wind him up.
“Accept it, Potter. You will be stuck with me on this train with these muggles for the next nine hours, and I suggest you get over it soon.”
Harry paused. “Fine,” he said eventually, and decided he would sleep.
If Voldemort was surprised at Harry’s sudden agreeable disposition, he didn’t say anything. He allowed him to sleep without interruption.
*
The train journey wasn’t as tedious as Harry expected it to be. Half way through he woke up, often dozing and thinking about his friends. At one point he asked Voldemort what he thought had come of Harry’s body.
“It has probably been shipped off to St. Mungo’s,” Voldemort had mused. “I will have to retrieve it at some point.”
“Just so you can kill me all over again?” Harry muttered.
“Quite,” Voldemort agreed.
Once they left the train, Voldemort ordered a cab. It didn’t take Harry long to guess, by puzzling over the road signs, where they were.
“
“Well done,” Voldemort said, almost sounding amused.
“Three countries in one day,”
---
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