“So,” said Harry slowly, “you do know what’s gone wrong.” It seemed like a complicated problem, even more complicated than the whole bodiless entity problem, which Harry admitted didn’t seem that straightforward either. “How are we going to fix it?”
He felt a faint buzz of surprise from Voldemort and frowned. “You do want your body back, don’t you?” he asked curiously.
Yes, said Voldemort immediately. Harry chased that feeling of surprise, following it doggedly back to its source. He got the mental equivalent of a sharp smack on the nose for his trouble, but he had the inkling that it was his willingness that surprised the voice; he’d expected resistance, an argument, more bargaining.
Harry thought about that for a second. Voldemort was an extremely powerful wizard, and it did seem foolish to go to all this trouble - and doubtless end up practising illegal magic - in exchange for common information and a few new spells. Especially since, ultimately, he’d be unleashing upon the world an entity who didn’t get the slightest bit excited about assorted thefts, foul curses and little incidental murders.
Harry knew he should at least try to get something more out of it for himself.
On the other hand: the Voldemort in Harry’s head believed he’d be doing the right thing for the Wizarding World, trying to cut away the muggle-pandering and laborious bureaucratic control to reveal the truly powerful magic and beautiful old traditions beneath.
And, yes, some of the magic was dangerous. Some of the traditions were barbarous. But Harry found he wanted them all the same.
“I think,” said Harry slowly. “I think I want to help you because I agree with you.”
You? His surprise was stronger, but he had to know Harry was not lying. It was easy for Voldemort to see a falsehood in his mind.
“I think so.” Said Harry. He was surprised himself, but he - he did. He agreed. There was something squalid about that comforting insipidity, about a life of broomstick polish and scourgify spells; of sticky candy instead of Samhain sacrifice. Harry didn’t understand why the Ministry, why Dumbledore, why - apparently everybody - would continue this way. He could find few explanations as to why they would think these things, these bad, wrong-headed, undignified things.
Voldemort would drag the world - some parts of it kicking and screaming, for certain - out of that misplaced contentment.
The voice was considering this thought, turning it over, tasting it.
“You will, won’t you?” said Harry.
Yes, he hissed immediately. I will. I will.
“Then I’m with you,” he said simply.
Voldemort’s laughter bubbled up inside his mind.
Harry Potter, he said in a voice which lit the inside of Harry’s skull like a miniature sun. It was so warm. Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever felt any warmth from Voldemort before, but now the chill of the wind over the battlements barely touched him. Saviour of the Wizarding World, he crowed exultantly. And they don’t even know. They never even had a chance.
And Harry smiled.