The Intelligent Potter

*** Riddle Manor, Present

Riddle Manor had gone uphill since Voldemort's return.

It had not been Voldemort's base of operations before his first fall, or even one of his outposts. It was simply a place which The Dark Lord desperately wanted to forget, a place which reminded him of his less-than-royal beginnings.

He had been forced to take it on as his base due to his plan for his revival, and in the year or so which that scheme took to complete, he had grown somewhat attached to the rundown estate of the muggle half of his family.

Upon his return to full life, Voldemort magically restored and reconstructed the Manor, and added expansion charms and protective wards to protect the ancestral home of the Riddles.

After he was through with it, it was hard to tell that it was the same Manor. While the decor and such remained the same, it was grand on a scale which the Riddles could never have hoped to match, even at the height of their wealth and prosperity in the muggle world.

It was a Manor fitting to be called the base of Lord Voldemort, and it was where The Dark Lord found himself contemplating his greatest enemy.

In his throne room, a majestic and large space conjured out of the large living room of the Riddles, Voldemort sat upon his throne with his eyes closed.

In his mind, The Darkness spoke to him. Enough of it had come into this world to have its own consciousness, capable of speaking to its host.

Voldemort privately thought it was a bit bonkers.

Pot, meet Kettle.

"Harry Potter…" it hissed in his mind for the twenty-fourth time that day.

"Yes, yes," Voldemort placated it again, "Murdering him is on my Dark Lord to-do list." he pointed to the Dark Lord to-do list pinned up on the majestic and royal Dark Lord pinboard.

"Potter is your greatest enemy." The Darkness hissed in Voldemort's mind.

Voldemort would have snorted if he had a nose, "I have many great enemies. Potter is destined to face me, which is his only importance, but he is a weakling. It will be many decades before he can hope to threaten me in any way."

"Harry Potter!" The Darkness rasped again, this time with greater urgency, "Potter is our greatest enemy."

"You are but a tool," Voldemort spoke out, forgetting to speak mentally, instead hissing out the words in the absolute silence of his throne room.

The Death Eaters guarding him fell to their knees.

"Yes, Master," they spoke in unison, "We are but your tooks, Master."

In his head, The Darkness made a noise which somewhat resembled laughter.

The Dark Lord roared in anger and picked up his wand to perform magic for the first time in a while, since he had become dependent upon the use of The Darkness to perform his magic, and shot a killing curse at the closest Death Eater, "Avada Kedavra!"

The jet of brilliant green light fizzled out before it hit the cowering pathetic man behind the silver mask.

"Silly Man, all your dark magic stems from me," The Darkness spoke in his head, "You are powerless without me."

Voldemort shivered, as the Death Eater in front of him peeked open one eye as he did not seem to be dead yet.

"Master?" he asked, confused, "Master! Thank you for sparing me, my generous Master."

"Harry Potter!" The Darkness said again, in Voldemort's mind, almost petulantly.

The Dark Lord felt the hum of power in his wand subside, and knew The Darkness was holding his very power hostage.

"Okay, fine, Harry Potter!" Voldemort yelled out loud in his chamber.

"Yessir?" asked a Death Eater, confused, "My name is Yaxley, Master." he added.

"I need Harry Potter. Right now."

The Dark Lord felt his wand thrum with power once more, and let out a sigh.

"B-but he is in Hogwarts," the other Death Eater present in the chamber stammered back, "Would it not be better to wait until the next summer, when he shall once more have to return upon the Hogwarts Express, which your excellency has already proved is a softer target?"

Voldemort scratched his b.a.r.e chin, where his stubble would be if he hadn't sacrificed his facial hair in a dark ritual, "That almost sounds smart, Pucey, after all, my best plans take place in June."

The Death Eater identified as Pucey, nodded proudly.

The Dark Lord nearly fell off his throne, as he felt the familiar support of The Darkness disappear for over a second, letting all his injuries and weaknesses and weariness be uncovered.

Voldemort shrieked before The Darkness returned to him.

"Now." the voice of the being called inside The Dark Lord's head.

"NOW," The Dark Lord rasped out, finally opening his eyes, which were glowing red, "I need the Potter boy now, Hogwarts be damned."

"But-"

That was as far as Pucey got. With his continued obedience to The Darkness, Voldemort's killing curse hit its mark, and the Death Eater was dead before he hit the ground, his expression neutral under his mask. The killing curse had hit him so fast he hadn't had time to react to the threat to his life, even in his expression.

Yaxley was startled by the sudden death of his comrade, despite the fact that considering the unhinged nature of his master, he really should not have been.

"M-master?" he stammered out.

"Avade Kedavra," and Yaxley met the same fate as his buddy Pucey.

The Dark Lord took a breath.

"Hogwarts," he said softly.

"I can help you break into the school," The Darkness promised.

"You can?"

"Harry Potter." the voice hissed for the twenty-seventh time that day.

"It'll take more power than I have currently," Voldemort insisted, "Can you help me with that?"

"Harry Potter!"

"Can you or can you not?"

"Anything to take Harry Potter," The Darkness spoke in the mind of Lord Voldemort.

"Anything to take the chosen champion of Death."

*** End of Chapter