The Little One with Green Eyes

34: An Intruder

TW: Mentioned child abuse (near the end)

-November 24, 1991-
After a long day spent playing with his son, wrestling said child into a bath (with a new duckling as well), and then reading two bedtime stories---one for Little One and one for Larry---Voldemort was perfectly content to slip into his bed and fall asleep. His bed was plush and soft, and Voldemort's head sunk into his pillow and relax.

Voldemort didn't dream often. He didn't know why, but dreams didn't happen to him, and if they did, it was just a short burst of colors. He'd never had a vivid dream before, which was why he knew instantly that he wasn't dreaming.

He was standing in the same blank emptiness as before, and Voldemort whirled around, his eyes widening as he recognized the vast barrenness. His breath misted in front of his face, each puff of air turning into white clouds that danced around his head before disappearing. Voldemort narrows his eyes at the mist before his entire body stiffens.

Just like before, Voldemort can feel it. The strange presence. He can feel the tension rise the longer the silence continues. He snaps his head to the left where he feels the presence and snarls when he sees nothing but the continued emptiness.

"Show yourself!" Voldemort demands. "Who are you! Why am I here?"

Voldemort rears back in shock, however, when the emptiness changes. Shadows that spawned from nowhere seemed to be bleeding out of the edges of the nothingness. The shadows quivered and trembled as they twisted together into a humanoid figure. Voldemort hadn't expected his demand to work, as it didn't work last time.

The humanoid figure wears a muggle three-piece suit, the suit jacket unbuttoned. Voldemort sniffs at the formal muggle wear, mildly offended that a clearly magical being would wear something so undignified. The shadows blended into the figure, making him fuzzy and hard to see---his face completely blurred out. Despite this, Voldemort can clearly see the smile that stretches across the being's face.

"Who are you?" Voldemort demands, his eyes narrowed as they tried to make out the figure's features. "What is this place? Why have you brought me here?"

"My, my, so many questions." it says, and Voldemort bristles at the condescending tone. How dare this... this thing speak to him that way?

"Do you know who I am?" Voldemort drawls, raising an eyebrow at the being. His tone doesn't even begin to hide how irritated he is. This is the second time this being has abducted him and forced him into this strange realm. "How dare---"

"My Dear Sister prizes you," the being spoke, stopping Voldemort mid-rant. (Which only furthered Voldemort's rage.) "I haven't the faintest as to why, you're arrogant and rude. You have this air of self-importance that is truly unflattering..." Voldemort snarled at the faceless being in front of him, his fingers inching towards his non-existent wand with the desire to curse the thing into oblivion. "But hearing you speak, the confidence you exude that matches your truly... delicious magical power... Seeing your eyes light up with fury, truly that is a masterpiece... Seeing you."

The faceless being eyed him up and down and for some reason, Voldemort felt the faintest hint of bashfulness. Never before had Voldemort felt so exposed, the being's strange reaction to him making Voldemort feel almost shy---

"What are you?" Voldemort said flatly, forcibly rejecting his earlier thoughts. He was above such pathetic feelings, and he refused to show this being how it affected him. "What do you want with me?"