Voldemort's Return [A Harry Potter fanfic]

Roland Thal, a Belgian pureblood wizard from a family obsessed with blood purity, found the whole notion absurd.

"This ridiculous pureblood nonsense is the only thing that makes a bunch of failures feel superior and privileged!" he often grumbled.

Roland despised those who clung to the idea of blood purity, including his own parents.

"Instead of clinging to a silly idea, wouldn't it be better if they looked for ways to make money?" he mused aloud. "Blood purity won't fill my stomach!"

Today, Roland was visiting London, having received an intriguing invitation from an unknown sender to discuss unspecified but important matters.

Normally, he wouldn't entertain such messages, but the sender had covered his travel expenses.

"There might be sinister intentions behind this," he thought, "but I'm confident I can defend myself."

The invitation included a map. Following its directions, Roland found himself in a public park. He continued until a voice called out.

"Mr. Thal, thank you for accepting the invitation."

Roland glanced up from the map to see a man with ordinary features—brown eyes and black hair. Yet, there was something unsettling about him.

'There's something strange about this man, an aura not to be trifled with,' Roland thought, feeling a twinge of anxiety.

"I hope meeting here suits you," the man continued. "I considered a café, but given your personality, I thought this setting was more appropriate."

'He really did his research!' Roland realized. As a specialist in herbology, he preferred forests and green spaces over bustling cities.

After exchanging greetings, the two sat down.

"Mr. Thal, I understand you're seeking funding for an ecological reserve. How is that progressing?"

Roland shook his head, disappointed. "Nothing so far. No one wants to approach me because of my bad reputation."

His bad reputation stemmed from his former mentor, Gerald Brax.

'After using me like a slave for ten years, he cursed me at every scientific gathering on the planet when I asked to become independent. No one will believe that most of his recent research was actually written by me.'

"I don't know your name yet. Meister. "

"I prefer anonymity for now."

Roland hesitated. "I assume then you'd tell me when ready."

'This man is really strange. If he doesn't want to give his real name, he could at least make one up!'

"Very well, Mr. Anonymous, did you call me to offer funding?"

"Not quite. I have a proposition to employ your skills."

"Hire me?"

"Indeed. I have a need for someone with your expertise in herbology. I possess land suitable for cultivating rare and powerful plants."

'This isn't the job I want, but my family is poor, and I'm broke. I don't have the luxury of choice. But I can't agree too quickly.'

Roland considered. "What are your requirements?"

"There is a neglected medicinal garden, abandoned for over forty years. A Mandrake blocks the entrance, ancient and formidable. Can you manage it?"

'A Mandrake plant that old is terrifying. I've faced similar situations, but never with a plant of this age.'

Roland thought for a moment. "It'll be difficult, but I can handle it. Anything else?"

"You'll have a list of specific plants to cultivate. Manage the garden as you see fit."

Voldemort handed Roland a paper. "This contract outlines our arrangement, your compensation, and other terms. The position is for ten years. Consider your options."

"No need!" Roland interrupted. "I agree!"

"Indeed?" Voldemort's eyes glinted.

"Yes, sir! Everything is perfect!"

"The contract is sealed with a Blood Oath."

"What?"

"I insist on it."

Roland hesitated, recalling the contract terms.

"I can't disclose his identity or secrets without permission. I can't harm him or his family intentionally, nor conspire against him. He also must not harm me or my family."

'Is he hiding because he's a criminal? No, that's ridiculous!'

He pondered.

'The salary is high, and the job includes accommodation and food. After ten years, I'll have enough to establish my reserve!'

Roland spoke with determination. "I agree to your terms."

When you offer water to a thirsty person in the desert, no matter how suspicious you seem, they won't care. They'll accept the water and see you as the best and kindest person.

'Perhaps he's operating on this principle? But I have nothing to lose!'

"Since you agree, let's begin." The man produced a sheet of leather.

Roland inspected it, noting it matched the terms precisely. 'It's my first time seeing a Blood Oath. Not commonly used—less binding than an Unbreakable Vow, but more flexible. The penalty for breaking it is a random blood curse, leading inevitably to a miserable death.'

At the contract's end were two sections: Party A and Party B. 'No need for names or signatures; blood suffices.'

"I'm ready."

"Very well, I'll begin." The man pricked his finger with a uniquely shaped needle, his voice cold and commanding. "The Blood Oath shall not break until the blood vanishes and dissipates." A drop of blood fell onto Party A's section. He handed the magically cleaned needle to Roland, who repeated the process.

As Roland's blood touched the contract, it glowed red, signaling the Oath's activation.

"And now?" Roland asked.

The man tucked the contract away with an air of authority. "Prepare yourself. I will summon you in due course."

"But, sir..." Roland hesitated, "You still haven't told me your name."

The man's smile was chilling. 'It feels like a wolf is smiling at me!'

"In time, you will know it. Patience, Mr. Thal."

After exchanging farewells, the man departed first.

"This really doesn't bode well," Roland muttered, feeling as if he'd entangled himself with someone he shouldn't even be near.

-- - - --

As Voldemort walked away, he allowed himself a quiet, sinister laugh.

'This man's thoughts are truly amusing,' he mused, noting how easily he had accessed them. 'He should be taught Occlumency someday.'

Initially, he sought only to exploit the expertise Roland had gained under Gerald Brax. However, he hadn't anticipated discovering that the esteemed scientist's recent work was actually penned by his apprentice.

'According to Investigator Zenard's report, Brax thoroughly tarnished Thal's reputation. Labeled him as irresponsible, destructive, unintelligent, and wasteful firm believer in pureblood superiority. Enough to ruin his career entirely.'

Yet, Voldemort found such a reputation inconsequential. He had followers from all walks of life, and now he would meet a particularly intriguing one—a Muggle-born that wants to be a Death Eater.

At first, he wondered if the woman had suffered a head injury to embrace Death Eater ideology so fervently. But upon delving into her mind, he uncovered a tapestry of sad backstories and traumas that drove her allegiance.

Naturally, he couldn't simply allow a Muggle-born to join the Death Eaters, so he orchestrated her attempt to infiltrate the Order of the Phoenix. But then, he had fallen, and the war had ended.

In a secluded corner of the park, Voldemort found Rosa Martine seated on a bench, her gaze vacant and forlorn.

Ensuring privacy with a series of protective spells, he approached her.

"Rosa Martine?" he inquired, his voice smooth yet commanding.

"I'm not in the mood for talking," she replied, eyes fixed on the ground.

Voldemort chuckled darkly. "It's amusing how much you've let yourself decline."

At his words, Rosa snapped to attention, her wand drawn in anger but she froze upon recognizing the face before her—one she revered and thought lost. After several tense seconds, she managed to whisper, "Lord?"

"It's good to see you again, Rosa."

Her mind raced with disbelief and awe. "I thought... I thought you were gone."

A flash of irritation crossed his features. "Gone? I am not so easily killed."

Rosa quickly corrected herself, "Forgive me, my Lord. It's just what they said."

"Many have thought so. But I have returned, and I have need of you."

Rosa's heart swelled with a mixture of reverence and ambition. "What can I do for you, my Lord?"

"First, lower your Occlumency shields," Voldemort commanded softly, his eyes piercing. "I must see your true intentions."

Rosa hesitated briefly, then nodded, allowing her mind to open to him. She felt his presence probing her thoughts, searching for deceit.

Satisfied, Voldemort withdrew. "Your loyalty remains intact. I want you to manage my affairs, to be the steward of my house."

Her eyes flared with fierce devotion. "I would be honored. I've always believed in your vision."

"I know," Voldemort replied, a hint of approval in his tone. "This will be the contract between us, it will be sealed it Blood Oath."

Rosa was confused for a few seconds but then she remembered one of Voldemort's characteristics, he never trusts anyone.