The Little One with Green Eyes

--Fantastic Beasts and how to Get Rid of Them--

Request: Magical creatures

--Fantastic Beasts and how to Get Rid of Them--

-July 2 1988-
The Dark Lord's Castle

Voldemort was quite literally, without a doubt, going to lose his mind. He could physically feel his soul leave his body (which he would know, as he'd done a ritual several times before) and not for the first time, Voldemort asked himself why on Earth he would put himself through this.

Then he looked at the pleading emerald eyes and he remembered.

Voldemort pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself not to sigh as he looked into his precious's bedroom. Little One sat on his bed swing, content with having a silent conversation with a butterfly that had inexplicably landed on his hand. Now, Voldemort knew for a fact that the creature had not spawned into the room, as the wards prevented any animal life from growing there, which meant only one thing.

He was doing it again.

"I see you've brought... another friend." Voldemort said, forcing his tone to remain light. The last thing he wanted was Little One to think he was upset with him. No, it wouldn't do for his precious to be sad.

Little One looked up from the butterfly on his hand and giggled. Voldemort felt a small part of his anger recede at the happy sound---Little One was silent most of the time, but when he did make noise, it never failed to put Voldemort in a good mood. Little One stood, gently so as not to disturb the butterfly's perch, and walked over to him.

Little One lifted his hand to show Voldemort, and Voldemort forced a smile onto his face. "Very lovely, precious." he said, smiling smugly as Little One beamed. (Can the butterfly make him smile that much? Doubt it!)

This was not the first time that Little One had brought in strays, oh no. Little One, kind, sweet, adorable, loving child that he is, adopted every single creature he found. Little One befriended---and Voldemort meant this as literally as possible---everything that breathes. (Not to mention the things that didn't breathe. But Voldemort had hidden Sir Rock and Little One was none the wiser for it)

Voldemort had seen Little One harbor spiders, crickets, grasshoppers, and once he saw an opossum hanging from the oak tree. Those... while still irksome, Voldemort could deal with. It was not as if Little One's bedroom was not able to sustain such creatures. It was, after all, a giant garden with a roof. No, those creatures were acceptable. It was... the others that Voldemort had more of a problem with.

For example, last week, when Voldemort had come into Little One's room for the sole purpose of playing with his child, he was shocked to see someone had beaten him to the punch. Or rather, something.

A bloody kneazle sat next to Little One, pawing on his chest and flicking him with it's tail.

How Little One had gotten his hands on a kneazle, Voldemort had no clue. Voldemort had forced himself to smile while subtly shifting Little One closer to him and farther from the damned thing. It took almost four days to distract Little One enough to get rid of the mangy thing.

And Voldemort was not sad to see the pest go, not in the slightest. And while he could have done without Little One's confused tears and muffled cries of, 'Why did Bobby go away?' (Yes his precious had named a kneazle with such a disgustingly muggle name. Another reason why he was glad to see it gone) at the end of the day, the kneazle was gone and Little One sought Voldemort's comfort.

The sad thing, though, was that the kneazle was the probably the safest creature that Little One had harbored. It was as if his precious didn't understand the dangers of keeping magical creatures in his bedroom! Which, to be fair, he did not. He was four years old after all.

And honestly! Voldemort was so tired of sneaking birds, dogs, kelpies, thestrals, blast-ended skrewts, and other animals out of his castle.

The only creature Voldemort allowed to stay with Little One was the unicorn. And honestly, Voldemort didn't even want to acknowledge the fact that his four-year-old inferius managed to adopt a unicorn into the Dark Lord's castle.

(And Voldemort wasn't sure what would happen if he tried to kick the thing out.)

Voldemort knew that he could quite easily solve his little... dilemma. All it would take was a few extra wards and the animals couldn't come in. The only thing stopping him? Little One. It angered him to a certain degree that Little One brought the mangy beasts into his castle.

They were dirty, and dangerous and completely wild, and they had absolutely no place in his dearest's bedroom. No. Filthy beasts were to be kept as far away as possible from Little One. How else was he to protect him?

(It was not because he was jealous. Voldemort knew for a fact that Little One treasured him above all else, and he would not lower himself so much as to compete with filthy animals for his precious's attention.)

As if he'd heard his thoughts, Little One crawled into his lap and snuggled deep into his chest. Voldemort smirked and wrapped his arms around Little One. The butterfly, startled out of it's position, flew away.

"I'm sorry your friend left," Voldemort said, not feeling sorry in the slightest. Little One gave a half shrug before he pointed to something in the bushes.

Voldemort felt a sinking feeling in his gut.

He slowly turned his head to look into the bushes, praying to magic that it wasn't the unicorn. But no, the unicorn was currently resting at the edge of the waterfall on the far side of Little One's room, where it usually sat.

Voldemort's jaw dropped.

Oh hell no.

"Little One, dearest," Voldemort said calmly, his crimson eyes not leaving the spot in front of him. "Why is there a Griffin in your bedroom?"

Little One giggled softly and whispered in response, "Papa he's sad. Needs chocolate."

Voldemort tightened his grip on Little One and swiftly stood up, hitching the Inferius's legs around his waist so that he could carry him better. Little One looked at him questioningly, but Voldemort only clenched his jaw.

The griffin was staring at the interaction with narrowed eyes. It was almost as if... Voldemort's eyes glinted dangerously. The infernal beast was mocking him. Using Little One's favor as a trophy against him, the Great Lord Voldemort. How dare he!

"Papa?" Little One whispered, as Voldemort had been standing for a few moments, glaring daringly at the griffin.

Voldemort smiled smugly as Little One's head rested on his shoulder. "Come precious," he said, turning his back to the beast. "Let's go eat."

"And Georgie?" Little One asked. Voldemort knew instantly that he was going to have quite a hard time getting rid of the griffin. Once Little One named a stray, he grew quite attached. And what was his dearest's obsession with muggle names?

"I'll see to it that the house elves give him some chocolate." Hopefully the damn thing will choke and die.

Sorry dear heart, Georgie and his chocolate didn't agree too well. Better luck next time.

"Thank'oo Papa." Little One whispered, muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Voldemort smirked, and sent a victorious glare at the beast.

Who's the winner now?