1001 Deaths of Lord Voldemort
Three Hundred and One to Three Hundred and Fifty
By Crys
Yep, still adding as ideas are sent in. Thanks to all who have (and still continue) to contribute ideas.
12 Mar
301. Scene by Killer07. Reproduced here with minor modifications. (Sorry, Evan, stuck with the disc)
In the back of a park a man inserts a small disc into a device that looks like a high tech video player.
"Good morning Jim. This man is Tom Marvolo Riddle also known under the pseudonym of 'Lord Voldemort'. He is a highly dangerous class W Terrorist. His last terror campaign was stopped as he
tried to kill this boy, Harry James Potter, as a 15 month old boy.
"Unfortunately the class W ministry was highly ineffective in dismantling the support structure of Riddle. Many of his followers got away without repercussions.
"Recently, Riddle was brought back into power through this man, Peter Pettigrew. This man framed Sirius Black, the Godfather of Harry Potter, for his crimes and went into hiding until he had a chance to revive his master.
"Your mission, should you accept it, is to protect and train Harry James Potter and Hermione Jane Granger, his best friend and probable romantic interest, and find a way to eliminate Riddle. Be careful of Ronald Bilius Weasley, another of Potter's friends. Because of his jealousy of Potter's fame, money, and power, he is a prime candidate to defect to Riddle from what our analysts think. Also both Potter and Granger could be good additions as free agents for IMF class W cases in the future.
"As always the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions in the event you or any of your IM Force were to get caught or killed. This disc will self destruct in five seconds. Good luck, Jim."
302. Bunny by Gullwhacker
"Let's take it from the top again, Mr. Dursley."
Vernon was tempted to explode at the rather dim inspector, but restrained himself. "It's 'Take Your Son to Work Day'," he started.
"But this lad isn't your son."
"He's my wife's nephew," Vernon growled. "My own Dudley was invited, but he didn't want to come. As I'd already told Mr. Grunnings I would have my son with me, I brought Potter instead.
"At any rate, as the fr- young lad and I were on the tour, this pale man in flowing robes appeared. I've no idea how he got through security. He said something about killing young Harry."
"Yes, the other parents and the workers corroborate that part. Turns out he is on Scotland Yard's Watch List as well."
"Yes, well, being the good uncle that I am, I moved to defend my nephew."
"With a power drill with three inch bit attached?"
"Well, that was the first weapon I found."
303. Bunny by Kadd
Harry finished the complex wand motion and studied the results in front of him. Harry's seeker's eyes tracked the newly-transfigured Voldemort until . . .
SMACK
Harry grinned slightly as he studied the simple object in his hand.
The Power He Knew Not: a flyswatter.
304. Bunny by Killer07
Voldemort stood upon the roof of a building in downtown New York City, staring at another building. There was a powerful magical artifact in there under the protection of the colonial magical community, and he wanted it. Before he could decide upon a course of action, he heard a small sound nearby and turned. A muggle wearing a black body costume with silver, web-like patterns all over it had landed next to him. The only break in the pattern was two over-large patches for the eyes and a silver spider silhouette in the middle of the chest.
305. Bunny by WhyDoYouNeedToKnow
In the summer of 1999, a middle-aged woman looked up from her laptop in the middle of a muggle cafe. Voldemort raised his wand. "I understand you think you control me, muggle. Nobody controls Lord Voldemort! Avada Kedavra!"
Lord Voldemort, by killing Jo Rowling before she'd finished writing the stories, wiped himself out of existence.
306. Bunny by WhyDoYouNeedToKnow
In the summer of 1999, a middle-aged woman looked up from her laptop in the middle of a muggle cafe. Voldemort raised his wand. "I understand you think you control me, muggle. Nobody controls Lord Voldemort! Avada Kedavra!"
Lord Voldemort lowered his wand with a smug smirk.
He was promptly lynched by the horde of rampaging fans who were standing outside the cafe and had watched the pale, skinny guy kill their favorite author.
307. Bunny by WhyDoYouNeedToKnow
In the summer of 2007, he followed the directions toward something called a "book-signing" by some muggle woman who claimed that she controlled the great Lord Voldemort.
As soon as he got near the indicated location, one of the large crowd of people spotted him. "It's Ralph Fiennes!"
The stampede of fans crushed him.
308. Bunny by WhyDoYouNeedToKnow
On DrudgeReport.com:
Ralph Fiennes look-a-like breaks neck on stage!
Trips over Michael Gambon's beard!
309. Bunny by . . . well, me. Yes, I still do occasionally have them.
Harry placed the muggle contraption on the grass of the Great Lawn.
Voldemort watched with only mild interest. "Are you ready to surrender, Potter?"
Harry shook his head without looking up. "Nope. I found the power you know not."
Voldemort tensed. "What is that?"
Harry smiled and pressed a button on the item he'd dropped. "Why, the power of love." He watched the Dark Lord writhing on the ground in his death throes. "The hardest part was getting electricity to run at Hogwarts," he said calmly. "Fortunately, the Creeveys had a 'Huey Lewis and the News' C.D. I could borrow."
310. "Scene" by WhyDoYouNeedToKnow as relayed by MercuryBlue
September headline in The Quibbler:
You-Know-Who Drowns in Vat of Butterbeer; Allegations of Trips to Loo Denied by Ministry Officials
October headline in The Quibbler:
You-Know-Who Found Dead in Home of Apparently Self-Inflicted Killing Curse; Acquaintances Say He Was Trying to Clean His Wand at the Time
November headline in The Quibbler:
You-Know-Who Suffocates When Head Becomes Trapped Between Cauldron and Cauldron Stand; Severus Snape Declines Comment
December headline in The Quibbler:
You-Know-Who Spontaneously Combusts Upon Seeing the Fourth Death Eater in a Row Reading The Quibbler; See Page Four for Details on Reimbursement Fund for Editor
311. Bunny by HermanTumbleweed. http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4120018/1/ Paraphrased with his permission.
Voldemort looked around after his apparition. He was standing in what appeared to be a deep well, but each side was smooth grey stone. Hanging upon metal rods driven into the stone and coming up from the floor, Voldemort identified all six of his horcrux containers.
"Ah, there you are."
A voice above him caused the now-worried Dark Lord's eyes to move upward.
Harry Potter stood above him, looking down at him with a grin. "About time you showed up in the trap I spent so much time and money on." He looked over toward the side and called, "Fill it up!"
As Harry Potter walked away from the pillar of hardened concrete, he passed a plaque.
This child's play park dedicated to the people of Little Hangleton on the site of the former Riddle Mansion
12 Mar
14 Apr
312. Bunny by Eric Oppen
Petunia Dursley heard a scream from her kitchen. "Diddy-dinkums!" she screeched as she ran down the stairs and toward the sound. Bursting into the room, she found a pale caricature of a man standing over her precious Duddums. Her son was screaming in agony and the strange man was holding what she recognized as a magical wand.
The same trick of genetics that allowed Lily Evans to become a witch did not completely abandon Petunia Evans.
Every knife in the room floated up in the air and converged on the astonished Voldemort at half the speed of sound.
313. Scene by WhyDoYouNeedToKnow. Reproduced without modification.
Crabbe Senior was looking around Knockturn Alley for something really good to take back to the Dark Lord. Maybe he'd get off with just one Cruciatus instead of two or three.
On a whim, he walked into Vermicula's Pet Shoppe. "Got anything new?" he asked.
"Just in today," said the withered old proprietor, waving at the perch on the counter. "The legendary jib-jib bird!"
Crabbe looked doubtfully at the stoop-shouldered, nearly-bald, huge-beaked bird. "What does it do?"
"What does it do? What does it do?" Vermicula cackled. "I'll show you what it does! Jib-jib bird, the cauldron!" And he pointed at a rusty cauldron sitting beside the counter.
The jib-jib bird leapt into the air and came down with its beak clattering. A noise like a thousand erumpents tap-dancing later, there was nothing left but a few metal shavings on the floor.
"Jib-jib bird, the broomstick!" Vermicula cried, pointing at the decrepit item hovering beside the empty cauldron stand. Again the bird attacked, with a noise like a million bowtruckles chewing, and
sawdust flew everywhere until all that was left were a few bits of twig.
Crabbe was delighted. "I'll take it!"
* * *
Lord Voldemort looked doubtfully at the bird Crabbe had brought him. The legendary jib-jib bird, for sale in a pet shop in Knockturn Alley? Not to mention how particularly revolting this specimen
looked.
He searched for a proper phrase with which to dismiss it and finally found one from his Muggle childhood which seemed to fit.
"Jib-jib bird, my arse!"
313. Scene by WhyDoYouNeedToKnow. Reproduced without modification.
Harry Potter fired a spell at Lord Voldemort. "God damn it!" he swore. "I missed!"
He fired again. "God damn it! I missed!"
"You had better watch yourself, Potter," Voldemort taunted. "Your God might strike you down where you stand."
Suddenly, clouds gathered overhead. An ominous roll of thunder boomed out, and a lightning bolt split the sky.
Harry dove for cover as Voldemort evaporated.
From the sky, a huge voice rumbled, "Me damn it, I missed."
314. Bunny by LandUnderWave. That was a very vague bunny, but I agree, it just has to be done.
Battered, bleeding, and exhausted, Harry Potter led the remainder of the Order of the Phoenix into Voldemort's quarters, ready to finish the final battle.
They found the most dreaded Dark Lord of several generations. He was not waving his wand, releasing foul magics. He was not performing arcane rituals to ensure mortality. He was lying on the floor, entangled in what looked like miles of a thin metal wound haphazardly about the area, expression forever locked in a grimace of frustration.
It was Arthur Weasley who noticed the cardboard box on the nightstand. "Harry, what's a slinky?"
315. Scene by Meteoricshipyards. Reproduced here with minor modifications.
Henry "Indiana" Jones stormed into the government office. "Where's Voldemort?" he demanded.
"He's safely being studied," the non-descript spy agency bureaucrat answered, unflustered by the archaeologist's anger.
"You fools! He can't be killed. He's powerful beyond belief! You have no idea what you're working with, here. Who's studying him?"
"Top people," came the cryptic reply.
"Who? Is it Vaslovic? Is he in charge?"
"Top. People." Indiana heard the utter finality of the statement. He knew he had been dismissed.
He stormed out of the building, cursing.
Meanwhile, a wooden box was being wheeled into a huge warehouse full of numbered, wooden boxes. Several hours after the box had been placed, there was some banging that could have been
heard from it. But considering all the sound muffling packing around the internal, metal box, nobody heard anything.
316. Scene by WhyDoYouNeedToKnow. Reproduced without modification. Inspired by Mooncheese after reviewing her latest chapter.
Standing at the front of the Room of Requirement, Harry waved his hand in the air, encouraging the DA to shout louder. Improving team spirit and getting rid of that annoying You-Know-Who habit
of theirs all at once. I love it.
"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!" forty voices chanted. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!"
With a loud snap, a tall figure in black robes appeared in the middle of the room. "What do you want?" Lord Voldemort snapped irritably.
Harry froze for an instant, then remembered where he was.
"I want you to die!"
317. Bunny generated during a conversation between Ishtar and MercuryBlue.
Lucius Malfoy walked into his Master's audience chamber. He came to an abrupt halt as the scene registered.
Half a dozen female Death Eaters, most of them new recruits, lowered their wand from the quivering mass on the throne. Lucius could only presume that mass to be . . . er, formerly be, Lord Voldemort.
Bellatrix Lestrange, the only experienced female Death Eater in the room, spotted him and raised her wand to Malfoy.
Lucius, no fool, kept his hands still. "Dare I ask what happened here?"
"We just killed him," Bellatrix bluntly stated.
"I see. Why?"
One of the young women joined the conversation, "You're male, so you don't see the problem. But for us, do you realize how awful the Death Eater robes look on us?"
318. Bunny by me.
Voldemort, having known that stealing Potter's blood would negate the Blood Wards over his home, apparated to Privet Drive and blasted the door in. He'd just kill the brat and then get on with his world domination plans.
Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, standing in the back yard of the neighbor's house, finished the spells to reverse the polarity of those same Blood Wards.
Voldemort, inside the wards at the time, turned inside out.
319. Bunny by me.
"Welcome back to the fold, my loyal Death Eaters," Voldemort whispered to the just-rescued figures at his feet.
"May I have a private word, My Lord?" Bellatrix harshly croaked from her place.
Voldemort nodded, dismissing everyone else in the room. When the door closed behind the last one, he said, "Speak."
Bellatrix leapt to her feet and curled her fingers around Voldemort's throat. Over a decade in Azkaban had led to her fingernails being jagged and dirt encrusted. Her other hand clamped upon his wand, preventing him from drawing it out.
Bellatrix, beyond insane, giggled for a moment before her face took on a look of unparalleled rage. "On your orders I allowed myself to be captured! I held faith!" Her fingers contracted, severing his jugular vein and crushing his windpipe. "Look how ugly it's made me, and it's all YOUR FAULT!"
320. Bunny by DragoFlare
Voldemort's animagus form of a basilisk slithered through the Forbidden Forest, confident in his invincibility. He'd lead a dawn attack on the school and be ruling the country by lunch. It was perfect.
Just as the sun peeked over the horizon, the roosters behind Hagrid's hut started crowing.
321. Bunny by Heather
"That improvised bomb was impressive. I mean, who thought you could make an explosive from torn robes, magical fertilizer, three paperclips, and a Q-tip?" Harry turned to help the muggle out of the escape tunnel the wizards had dug during the escape.
The muggle shrugged modestly. "It's a gift, I guess."
"Hey, what's your name?"
He grimaced. "Angus MacGyver, but call me 'Mac'. I'm part of the Phoenix Foundation."
322. Scene by Megan. Reproduced here without modification.
Voldemort sat at his large, imposing dinner table. Today he was trying a new meal, some kind of delicacy a Death Eater had introduced him to. The Dark Lord took a large bit of the sandwich in front of him, following with a glass of milk. Two minutes later, he lay on the floor holding his closing throat, in anaphylactic shock.
Too bad Voldemort had killed his muggle father before he could learn of the deadly peanut allergy he had inherited.
323. Scene by Megan. Reproduced here without modification.
Harry shook hands with the man in front of him, glad that his trip to New York had ended successfully.
Later, in England, Voldemort would laugh at the tiny gun Harry brought with him to the final battle. He totally underestimated the power of the Noisy Cricket Harry borrowed from Agent J of the Men in Black.
324. Scene by Megan. Reproduced here without modification.
Voldemort was very happy with himself. It had been a long journey to the Caucasus Mountains, but he had finally reached them, and the great power they were supposed to hold. He saw it immediately. A giant-sized man chained to a rock with an eagle eating his liver was hard to miss, after all.
Two hours later, Voldemort gave a yell of frustration. He had been attempting to break the chains trapping Prometheus so that he could use the titan to achieve world domination. "Curse you, Zeus!" He cried in his anger. This got Zeus’s attention. He came down from Olympus to find out what this skinny, pale man was cursing him for.
When Zeus left, there were two men chained to the rock.
325. Scene by Perspicacity. Reproduced here with only minor modifications.
Harry stands, weary, his arms aching. Hours spent cleaning the potions classroom every evening for the past several years have taken their toll. Gone is the bright-eyed student eager to escape his muggle upbringing and learn the delights of magic. That child has been replaced by this pale husk, bent by labor, broken by grief, bone-weary, unable now to recall any spell other than the Cleaning Charm.
He remembers the night it happened, the night Death Eaters broke into the school to slay teacher and student alike. The night Harry's skills failed to forestall the slaughter.
Morning found him covered in blood.
Their blood.
He hadn't since felt clean.
He is fortunate that the new Headmaster, Professor Snape, bless his name, has allowed him to stay on as caretaker and take over for the late Argus Filch. Sure, he must suffer the taunts of pureblood children and parents. But it is a small price to pay to remain at his only home, Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts. Hogwarts, whose floor is dirty now... Filth! Must clean; clean Hogwarts.
Great doors bang open as a pale, snake-faced man strides into the Entrance Hall. Harry mutters under his breath at the dust that is stirred up. He looks up into red irises framed in mirth.
"You like to clean, don't you, Harry Potter?"
Harry Potter. That was me once....
The Dark Lord flicks his wand, thirteen inches, yew, with phoenix feather core, and dust rains down upon the Hall.
Harry stands, enraged. "You," he says, voice quavering, "you filthy, filthy... filth." In his time of greatest need, eloquence fails the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Clean.
"Yes, me." The Dark Lord tosses his head back and cackles.
"Scourgify!" Harry screams and crystalline bolts fly from his outstretched hands. They strike the dark figure in the chest, and he is consumed in a violent whirlwind.
Harry stoically grabs a broom and starts in on the new mess. "Must clean. Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts..."
14 Apr
30 May
326. Scene by Gullwhacker. Reproduced with minor modifications.
Harry could only look on in horror as Voldemort's ultimate spell wrought havoc upon the battlefield. A serpent of green light, extending from his wand, striking Auror and Death Eater alike with
the power of an Avada Kedavra!
"Potter! I am immortal! I am unstoppable! The Serpent of Death is my power - it is my very will!"
In a panic, Harry used a Finishing Spell on the serpent - as his wand was brothers with that of Voldemort, the green serpent shattered into a million sparks of light.
And Voldemort toppled over - alive, but comatose. His will had been shattered - he could fight no more.
327. Scene by Gullwhacker. Reproduced without modification
Voldemort cursed under his breath. His resurrection was unstable; having his Horcruxes spread out weakened its anchoring to his body. Still, that was the point - so that if his body were to be
destroyed, his soul would have a backup anchor. Even with that weakness, destroying Hogwarts would be easy!
* * *
"Look, you don't have to be so modest! Whatever you did, it made Voldemort topple right over - all of Dumbledore's signs say that his spirit wasn't able to escape! You're a hero!"
Colin Creevey blushed. "But all I wanted to do was commemorate the battle for the papers! How was I supposed to know there was some truth to cameras stealing souls?"
328. Scene by Gullwhacker. Reproduced without modification
Voldemort smirked, facing Potter. "You've fought well, boy. I'll give you one chance - join me, become my second in command, and we can rule the world!"
Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's current second-in-command, wasn't as fond of his boss's intention to oust him. "Twenty years of servitude for this? Avada Kedavra!"
329. Bunny by me.
Voldemort closed the weighty tome and leaned back in satisfaction, eyes idly flicking about his hideout. He'd cast a time spell upon the place, giving himself a dozen extra years to study spells while no time passed outside.
Unfortunately, he cast the wrong spell. Two hundred years had passed.
When he passed outside the limits of his spell, his body aged two hundred years in the blink of an eye. The dust of his former body immediately scattered upon the wind.
329. Bunny by me.
Voldemort closed the weighty tome and leaned back in satisfaction, eyes idly flicking about his hideout. He'd cast a time spell upon the place, giving himself a dozen extra years to study spells while no time passed outside.
Unfortunately, he cast the wrong spell. Two hundred years had passed.
When he passed outside the limits of his spell, he was bumped by a passerby. With a muttered apology, the muggle, dressed in some shimmering green material, walked away.
Infuriated that the muggle could treat him so, Voldemort whipped out his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" The green light of the spell hit the muggle in the back.
And the muggle continued walking.
Voldemort was still standing and staring in abject shock when five wizards in auror blue popped into existence around him. One held up a small item in his hand and read from it in a bored voice, "Tom Riddle, magical sensors registered an attempted murder of a muggle by you fifteen seconds ago thru use of the outdated Killing Curse. How plead you?"
Now beyond livid, Lord Voldemort cast three spells, a Conflagration Curse, a Ribbon Cutter Curse, and an Iron Fist Bludgeoner in rapid succession. None of the aurors even attempted to dodge.
The auror sighed as he put the item into his pocket. "Five more attempted murders. Your sentence is death."
330. Scene by Darkest Secret. Reproduced with minor modifications.
Voldemort cackled evilly. This was the last night Harry Potter would spend on the face of the earth! And just to be sure, he ordered his Death Eaters to capture both the Weasley boy and that
interfering mudblood girl that acted as Potter's sidekicks in the middle of the night, when everyone in the refugee camp was deep in sleep.
Leading the capture team against the mudblood, Voldemort opened the tent flap, felt the heat of the spelled fire and never even had time to scream before he burned to death. No one had ever told him
how dangerous it was to wake Hermione Granger from a dead sleep.
331. Another scene by Darkest Secret. Reproduced with minor modifications.
Voldemort cackled evilly. This was the last night Harry Potter would spend on the face of the earth! And just to be sure, he ordered his Death Eaters to capture both the Weasley boy and that
interfering mudblood girl that acted as Potter's sidekicks in the middle of the night, when everyone in the refugee camp was deep in sleep.
Leading the capture team against the mudblood, Voldemort opened the tent flap and gaped at the sight. The mudblood and the blood-traitor (pureblood, but still a traitor) in bed . . .
together! Horrified, he suffered a brain aneurysm and dropped dead.
332. Yet another scene by Darkest Secret. Reproduced without modification.
Voldemort finally had what he believed to be his greatest and most simple plan yet- He had heard from young Malfoy that Potter's mudblood friend Granger was responsible for telling Potter how to
foil all of his evil and ingenious plans.
So all he had to do was kill Granger, and Potter would go back to living off of luck.
Without stopping to think about it, Voldemort apparated to the exact place of Hermione Granger....
And promptly died of a heart attack as Hermione stepped out of the shower, having never seen a naked woman in his life.
Hermione frowned. "I didn't think I looked that bad."
333. And yet another scene by Darkest Secret. Reproduced with minor modifications.
"Congratulations, my lord. You are now a full-fledged vampire, with all of our powers and abilities." Severus Snape announced, smirking.
"Excellent. Surely I'll be able to defeat Potter now!" Voldemort replied. "Anything I should know?"
"Nothing I can think of, except stay away from garlic, but since you won't be craving normal food, that shouldn't be a problem."
Voldemort nodded and, confident in his invulnerability, opened the door to step outside to find and defeat Potter once and for all.
And promptly keeled over.
"Oh, and stay out of the sunlight, it really does kill us." Snape said, turning to see the pile of smoldering robes. "Oops."
334. One last scene by Darkest Secret. Reproduced with minor modifications.
Harry watched in horror as the members of the Order of the Phoenix made their final stand against the Death Eaters. He turned to join the battle just in time to hear Voldemort hiss, "Say goodbye,
Nymphadora!"
Furious, Tonks raised her wand. She hadn't been kidding when she had said that she'd kill anyone who used her first name. Dark lord or not, Voldemort was no exception.
Harry and everyone else watching winced as one. Even Voldemort hadn't deserved such a painful death.
335. Bunny by me.
Severus Snape stared at the crumpled and deceased form of the Dark Lord. Next, he shifted his attention to the simple headache relief potion in his hand, utterly perplexed.
Little did anyone, even Voldemort, know, but the result of his resurrection was a totally new biochemistry. Including his body's reactions to all potions.
336. Bunny by me.
Voldemort, after conquering the wizarding world, became the de facto Minister of Magic.
Unbeknownst to him, the Minister was required to read all legislation before vetoing it or passing it to Wizengamot to be voted into law. That was definitely one law he would get changed by the end of the day.
Voldemort lasted exactly twenty-eight minutes and sixteen seconds. When his aide found him, he was lying down on the desk, a trickle of black blood coming from one ear. Clutched in his hand was legislation regarding standardization of cauldron bottoms.
30 May
20 Aug
337. Bunny by DWA20
In the mood for some muggle slaughter, Voldemort apparated to the roadside of the M1, just outside of London.
His plan was immediately thrown off. Instead of the roadside he expected to find, he was instead immersed in a hot mass that resisted his every movement. Opening his mouth to cast a spell, the rough material immediately filled his throat.
Hours later, Harry stood at the side of the roadway, gleefully conjuring a sign, "Beware of Dip in the Road". He planted the sign next to the Voldemort-sized lump under the asphalt.
338. Scene by Aelfwine. Reproduced here without modification.
At the age of ten, Tom Marvolo Riddle walked in on the plumber and one of the orphanage's cooks in the scullery. Rumours whispered between the boys explained, in some measure, what he'd seen; it
was his joy, after his Hogwarts letter, to think that the powerful beings amongst whom he was taking his rightful place would never engage in such undignified nonsense.
Unfortunately, Wizards proved to be much the same as Muggles. From Fourth Year on, young Witches, plus the odd Wizard, sought his attention; one of them, a Ravenclaw named Myrtle, had served as
sacrifice for his first Horcrux.
When Lord Voldemort ruled the planet, Wizards would be rid of all such animalistic habits, and human beings would reproduce in a rational and civilised fashion. Alchemists would mix the elements of
life in clean glass beakers. He would even remove the stupid bits from his improved model of Wizard, by the third generation at the very latest.
Therefore, linkage to the mind of an adolescent was torture. Every pathetic fantasy of hugs and kisses and fuzzily-envisioned naughty acts gave him a headache. When he killed Potter, he thought, the
pleasure of revenge for all this would make the deed a hundred times as sweet.
No, a thousand times as sweet. Tonight's visualisations involved a muscular redhead, a bushy-haired brunette, and a lithe blonde, all of them together at once with Potter in a big soft bed. He
recognised the three females from the incident at the Ministry. He would kill them slowly for fueling the boy's imaginings. Why, this vision was so detailed that at least one of the stupid bints must
have allowed him to see her in the altogether.
Potter's male housemates were already slated to die, but now Voldemort would see that their deaths took at least a week, for supplying the illustrated French novels that must have inspired this
loathsome fantasy.
Impossible. He realised, with dawning horror, that this was real. He struggled to draw his consciousness away, but Potter's mental defenses, previously hidden, now clamped down like a steel trap. He
could almost feel what Potter was feeling, almost empathise with the boy's enjoyment of these revoltingly biological activities. And what was worse, the boy genuinely loved all three girls. And they
him, and each other.
There was no such thing as love, he told himself. This squishy warm emotion was a fiction born of glands and bad poetry, but it felt real as rock and fire and the green bolt of the cleansing Curse
and it was drowning him smothering him burning him away...
His consciousness popped into his next Horcrux, and there was an instant's peace, but then the ghastly feelings and sensations flooded back and he was lost again. Six times, and the last was only
sweet relief.
"He's gone," Harry said. "By Merlin, he's gone."
"Truly?" Hermione said.
"Yes, my love," Luna said. "The threads of dark magic are all cut away from our Harry's scar. I see it with my Good Eye."
"So," Ginny said, "the Boy Who Lived and Loved has done it again. What now?"
Luna kissed her. "The four of us will just have to make sure he's dead. Once a day for... oh, about a hundred years should suffice."
"Thank heavens for the Moste Potente Potion," Hermione said.
"You mean," Harry said, "you really want to stay with me? All of you? It wasn't just... necessity?"
"If it had only been that," Luna said, "we never could have done it. Lust was only half of The Power The Dark Lord Knew Not."
339. Another scene by Aelfwine. Reproduced with only minor modifications.
In Fourth Year, Aldebaran Black invited Tom Marvolo Riddle to join the Fencing Club. "It's jolly good exercise, Riddle, much more of a gentleman's game than Quidditch. Lots of fine chaps in the
club, what?"
"No thanks, Black. We've got wands; why should we play with old pig-stickers like ruddy knights or Cavaliers? Even Muggles don't bother with swords, anymore."
"It's great fun, old bean, and you'll meet fellows who'll be good to know later on in life. All of us chaps from the Old Houses learn, in case we've got to defend our honour someday. And Witches just
love a man who can handle a blade. Makes their hearts go pitter-pat, makes ‘em reckon he must be good with the other kind of sword, what? So, what say? I'll sponsor you, of
course."
"Thank you, Black," Riddle said, "but I'm afraid I shan't have any time for sport this year." How dare Black suggest that he, who would be a Dark Lord to make even Grindelwald and Dumbledore tremble,
should mess about with a sword like some dirty primitive Muggle? One day, the "fine chaps" would serve him, or die. And their overgrown butter knives would not help them.
* * *
Five decades later, a white owl dropped a letter in his lap. He refrained from blasting the bird. It would be pointless, at the moment.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, called Lord Voldemort, Heir of the House of Gaunt,
Milord,
There is a matter of blood between our Houses. Following the ancient laws of Wizarding folk, I, the Head of House Potter, challenge you to single combat with sword and buckler. Let Earth and Air and
Water and Fire witness that we will meet at noontide tomorrow, being the Eve of Saint John's Day, on the Field of Honour, otherwise known as the Quidditch Pitch, outside Hogwarts Castle.
Who does not appear, let him forfeit rank and magic and be known as craven before all. May God preserve the right!
Harry James, Lord Potter
The Potter Seal was affixed as well.
Voldemort drew his wand. The owl's tortured body would be his reply. But the curse failed on his lips.
"Forgive me, my Lord," Lucius Malfoy said, "but Potter has made a proper challenge. The old laws protect his messenger. Your revenge must be delayed until You have cut the brat to ribbons. Then, my
Lord, You may slay his impudent bird in a fashion that will cause owls to tremble a thousand generations hence."
"Yes, Lucius," Voldemort said, and almost cursed the aristocratic ponce. Assuming he would play Potter's game? The opportunity was too good to waste, but still... "So, I suppose I'll need a sword.
One must follow the proper forms."
The next day, Voldemort Portkeyed to the Quidditch Pitch. It amused him that his adversary's stupidity permitted him access to Hogwarts. After the boy, he decided, he would kill Dumbledore. Then he
would cleanse the school of Mudbloods.
Malfoy's heirlooms hung from his belt. Ludicrous things, an overgrown letter-opener and a soup dish with a handle riveted on. A show of following the rules would hold Potter in place while he drew
his wand. Fairness was for fools, after all.
The stands were full. Excellent, an audience for the victory which Potter had so graciously handed him. He drew sword and gripped his buckler.
His opponent stood on the field, looking pitifully small. He wore archaic garments of leather and wool. In his hands rested a steel buckler and an ancient sword. Potter heirlooms, no doubt.
Voldemort would keep them for trophies. They'd hang in some corner of his palace, a servants' stair or a lavatory, perhaps.
"Milord Gaunt," Potter said, "greetings and defiance. Shall we dance?"
"Idiot boy," Voldemort said, dropping the so-called weapons. "True Wizards use wands, not bits of Muggle metal. Ava -" He stopped the incantation as the wand burst to splinters in his
hand.
"Not so, milord. It's the sword that settles affairs of honour between the Old Houses. So it has been since before Merlin," Potter said. "Do take yours up, milord. The Baron, my teacher and kinsman,
would be ashamed did I slay a disarmed man. Even one who has much besmirched Slytherin House, of which it is his honour to be ghost."
"Why should I play your game, boy? Come, kill an unarmed man. Or let me depart, if you love your silly honour so."
"You shall not flee, milord. Magic itself will strike you down if you set one foot off this field before our combat ends."
"I will rise again, stronger. As I have done before."
"The old magic is stronger than your Horcruxes." A frisson of unfamiliar emotion ran down Voldemort's spine. "Yes, milord, I know of them. And you shall know of Judgment, shortly. Come, milord, take
up your sword."
Voldemort reached down and lifted the sword. In all his life, nothing else had ever felt so heavy.
340. Bunny by ShadeHawk.
Voldemort entered the small chamber, deep beneath Hogwarts per the arranged temporary truce. Harry, Hermione, and Ron entered the room from the direction of the Chamber of Secrets.
Before the proper forms could proceed, Hermione and Ron began arguing some minor point of protocol.
At first, Voldemort found it amusing that the mudblood witch would think she knew anything pertinent, but when Harry turned around and joined the argument, Voldemort realized that the three teens, incomprehensibly, were ignoring him.
Him!
With this realization, Voldemort began swearing profusely.
Listening to the truly vulgar (and impressive) tirade, Ron suddenly realized why Voldemort was the most feared dark wizard of all time. Only the most evil being in all creation could use language
so foul.
"Hey, there’s a lady present!" Ron yelled. Drawing his wand, he cursed the most foul evil the world had ever known with the same spell his mother had used on him every time
she caught him swearing.
Harry and Hermione continued to argue, oblivious to the dark lord gagging at the taste of the Lifebuoy soap bubbling out of his mouth. They didn’t seem to notice until the soap bubbling out of Voldemort’s mouth had formed a pool up to their ankles with soapy water and Voldemort's motionless form lay face down in it. Unbeknownst to Ron, his mother's curse reacted to how foul your language was, using more soap to clean the dirtier mouth.
Who knew it would spell doom for the dark lord?
341. Scene by Eric Oppen. Reproduced with minor modifications.
"My Lord, I have perfected a machine that will allow you to Apparate onto Hogwarts grounds, past the wards," said Severus Snape.
Smirking, Voldemort stepped in and threw the switch, vanishing . . . along with a stray housefly that had flown in with him.
Some time later, after the fly-headed monster that had somehow appeared at Hogwarts had been killed (it appeared quite disoriented), a strange, high-pitched cry came from a spider-web in an unnoticed
corner of the castle.
"Help me---help me!"
342. Scene by Perspicacity. Reproduced without modification.
"Potter, do you yield?" The look of horror on the face of the Boy Who Lived causes Voldemort to cackle and slap the table loudly with a gnarled hand. The Death Eaters behind him jeer.
"Never." Harry performs a wandless summoning and the torture device slides across the table to his outstretched hand. He lifts it to his face and props open his left eyelids. With steely resolve, he makes an angular motion, dragging the edge of the parchment against his eyeball. A second later, screams echo throughout the Great Hall and the assembly, as one, wince.
"You bastard!" Hermione shouts, her heart breaking for her friend. "Asking someone to paper-cut his own eyeball—what kind of sick monster dreams up such a thing?"
"You’ll learn your place, Mudblood," Voldemort snarls, then suddenly looks uncomfortable as he notices the nasty grin spreading on the face of the Boy Who Lived.
Harry fixes him with his good eye, the other tightly closed and draining tears. "Time for truth, eh? You know, Tom, I’ve always been curious how you got on so well with the owner of Hufflepuff’s cup and Slytherin’s locket. Tell me, was Tom Riddle ever Hepzibah Smith’s lover?"
"Why you -" Voldemort roars, bolting to his feet and gathering about him an aura of the blackest of magicks.
"Ah, ah, Tom. Do you yield?"
Voldemort grits his teeth, his crimson eyes glowing with latent power. "I’d rather die than lose my magic." His shoulders slump. "You win, Potter. I yield." With that, a column of brilliant green flame immolates the Dark Lord and reduces him to a pile of ash.
"Harry!" Hermione shouts, rushing forward and hugging her friend’s battered body. "How did you do it?"
"I broke the charms on Hepzibah Smith’s diary. Tom Riddle took an Unbreakable Vow not to share the secret of his love affair with her. I figured it’d come in handy someday."
Truth or Dare: The Power He Knows Not.
343. Another scene by Perspicacity. Reproduced without modification.
I peek left and see Tonks holding her cards close to her chest, an act that protects her hand from rubber-neckers and her skin from exposure. Hestia, on my right, is still mostly clothed—her brassiere has stayed on all night and she has a small pile of clothing at her lap. Almost as large as my own.
I’ll take two, Bellatrix says with a cackle. I toss a couple of cards to the Dark Witch in granny-knickers who’s still wearing my shirt. Her sister, Narcissa, folds with a tired sigh and tugs at Tonks’s Weird Sisters tee, trying to get it to cover more of her midriff.
"Tom?" The Dark Lord, down to just a pair of silk boxers, furls his brow. "Three, Potter." I give him the cards and his face brightens momentarily, then returns to his trademark sneer. Subtle, he ain’t.
"Dealer takes one," I say, giving my nemesis a wink, not even looking at my card. We place our bets, which amount to one piece of apparel each before Tonks calls.
Tom proudly lays down a full house—Jacks over fours. Tonks and Hestia muck their hands and toss stockings into the pot. Bella shows her trey of aces and adds my shirt.
"Potter?"
"Oh, I’ve just got two pair—nines and nines. Guess that means I win." I waggle my eyebrows at Tom and snap my fingers. "Pay up, Tommy—you know the rules." His boxers come off and, after a moment of awkwardness, Tonks starts to giggle and point. Hestia, for her part, joins in. Bella cackles as well—but then she’ll laugh at anything. After a few seconds, even Narcissa starts to titter.
"Come on, it’s cold!" he protests.
"Not that cold. How big’s your wand again?"
"Thirteen and a half inches..."
Hestia nudges Narcissa, coughing into her hand, "Compensate much?"
I smirk at Tom, who deflates. He takes a couple of steps and keels over, dead from embarrassment.
Strip Poker: The Power He Knows Not.
344. Scene by WhyDoYouNeedToKnow. In her words: "Plotbunnied by my own story... pitiful."
Lord Voldemort stepped out of the odd flying contraption and waved the red-armored guard back inside. A surreptitious pinch to the inside of his forearm did nothing.
Excellent. The spell has taken effect.
He began to walk into the woods, focusing on his destination--a small, squat building on the other side of a ridge.
Some weeks earlier, Severus had reported that Potter and his friends were planning some sort of grand entertainment involving a battle between good and evil, to be played out in a magically shared
dream. The Dark Lord had seen a choice opportunity, and immediately assigned several Death Eaters to research spells which bound what happened in dreams to what happened in reality. Learning about
this new world, he had reserved for himself a specific role.
An oddly fascinating creation. If the author is still alive--and of suitable descent, of course--I believe I shall reward him.
In any case, it had been obvious to him from the first moment which role Potter would take. Which was why, instead of remaining aloft to await the arrival of Potter and Snape, he had ordered a
shuttle to take him to the surface of this quaint moon. Here he would kill Weasley and Granger, and as many others of Potter's coterie as he could find, before returning to his place to rewrite the
ending of the story.
Annoying that it required the sacrifice of a Horcrux to come here. My dear Nagini, too... but I should not depress myself. This promises to be fun.
He stepped out of the forest to see camouflage-dressed soldiers being rounded up by those in white armor. A red-haired man bent protectively over a brown-haired woman near the doorway.
As I expected. Alone, and with no magic... easy prey.
A deep breath, and the magic of this dream world filled him. They called it "The Strength" or "The Power" or some such term--childish, perhaps, but its use came easily to him. He wondered if there
might be a way to reproduce the effect at home.
Starting forward towards Weasley and Granger, he failed to notice the large two-legged machine clanking out of the forest behind him. Nor did he hear the furious roar which came from the creature
that bounded out of its top. His first intimation that something was not as it seemed was when he was roughly seized and spun around.
Fur, he registered dimly. A great deal of fur.
Most of it was golden and brown, except for one white patch on the creature's forehead... a patch with a rather distinctive shape...
The creature bellowed again, grasped Lord Voldemort's wrist in one hand and his shoulder in the other, and yanked.
How odd, the Dark Lord thought hazily through the pain. If Potter was here, who did play the part of...
* * *
On the whole, Severus Snape thought, the efforts of the Millennium Falcon and its compatriots were likely to be unnecessary.
Loosing Longbottom inside the Death Star with a lightsaber was going to destroy the space station long before the ships of the rebel fleet could arrive.
345. Bunny by Crys, inspired by a question from Evan Mayerle, who was in turn inspired by scene #336.
Voldemort stared at the pile of parchment.
No matter how hard he stared at it, it would not go away. He dare not destroy it. There were some things even the Dark Lord Voldemort was hesitant to mess about with.
Giving a great sigh, Voldemort began filling out his tax forms.
Voldemort lasted exactly twenty-eight minutes and sixteen seconds before he spontaneously combusted.
346. Scene by Regina Noctis. Inspired by Jeconais's drabble Horcrux Raider: Reproduced without modification.
Lord Voldemort had finally cornered the eighteen year-old Harry Potter in an underground cavern, once a holding room for one of his Horcruxes. Potter was currently on all fours, coughing up blood
from that last Bone-Breaking Hex on his chest.
"Say hello to your parents for me, you worthless brat!" Voldemort cackled, then leveled his wand against the helpless boy. "Avada—"
At that moment, a hail of gunfire burst through his body, spattering blood and gore everywhere. Voldemort stared at the gigantic hole in his chest, mouthing wordlessly, before keeling over
spectacularly.
Behind where he once stood, a young woman in military fatigues was slipping a semi-automatic over into her hip holster. "All right there, Harry?" she called.
"Nothing . . . a Healer . . . can’t fix," Harry choked, wiping away some blood from his mouth. "Did you . . . get . . . the Horcruxes?"
"Not to fear, I've got every last one with me," Lara Croft replied, gesturing at the sack over her shoulder. "Had them all neutralized and everything. Now, what should we do with Mr. Riddle
here?"
347. Scene (er, thought) by Regina Noctis. Inspired by a particularly clever T-shirt. Reproduced without modification.
Voldie was a Muggle's son,
But Voldie is no more.
What Voldie thought was H2O
Was H2SO4.
348. Scene by Regina Noctis. Inspired by "The Fish-Slapping Dance" from Monty Python's Flying Circus (Episode 29). Reproduced without modification.
A Disillusioned Tom Riddle, so intent was he on finding the key to immortality that he scarcely noticed his surroundings, walked straight past two Muggles who were standing near a loch while
slapping each other's faces with dead fish.
Unfortunately for him, he was on the side closest to the water.
And he walked past Michael Palin just as John Cleese struck his fellow actor with a very large halibut.
And, unlike Michael Palin, Tom Riddle couldn't swim.
349. Scene by Regina Noctis. Inspired by the end line from Monty Python’s Flying Circus (Episode 21). Reproduced without modification.
Voldemort flew around the heads of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley as they snogged by the lake, oblivious to the world. The advantage to his Animagus form, Voldemort thought as he hovered closer
with a high-pitched whine, was that he could get close to his victims undetected.
Well, relatively undetected.
The disadvantage was that his primal instincts, if not kept in check, could easily give him away…
SLAP!
"What was that, dear?" Ginny asked without breaking the kiss.
"Oh, nothing, love," Harry replied while wiping his hand on his jeans. "Just a pesky mosquito. Don't worry, I made sure I got it—there’s nothing more dangerous than a wounded mosquito,
after all."
350. Scene by Regina Noctis. Inspired by the end line from Monty Python’s Flying Circus (Episode 21). Reproduced without modification.
Inspired by "The Undertaker’s Sketch" from Monty Python’s Flying Circus (Episode 26) and "Monty Python and the Holy Grail":
Harry Potter, dragging a large gunnysack that was partially slung over one shoulder, opened the door and entered the funeral home with a loud grunt. A small bell tinkled somewhere in the back of the building, and a man dressed as a mourner appeared behind the front counter almost as quickly as if he had Apparated there. "May I help you?" the clerk asked with a sickly smile.
"Um, yes, I’d like to deal with this Dark Lord here—" Harry swung the gunnysack to the floor with a thump; its contents groaned upon impact. "Any idea what to do with him?"
"Well, let’s see." The clerk pondered the sack for a moment before proclaiming, "Would you like to burn him, bury him, or dump him?"
"Dump him?" Harry repeated, not quite catching on.
"Yes, dump him in the Thames." Upon seeing Harry’s expression, the clerk hastily added, "Oh, were you fond of him?"
"No, no, it’s just—I’d hate to pollute the Thames any more than it already is." Harry quickly changed the subject. "So, what about the other two options?"
"Right, we could burn him—stick him in the fire, crackle, crackle, crackle… it’s fast, but a bit of a shock if he’s still alive."
"I’m not dead yet," said the sack, quite weakly. Harry kicked it hard, eliciting a groan in response.
"Oh, don’t worry, you soon will be," Harry said cheerfully.
"Actually, I’m feeling a bit better now," the sack replied. Harry stunned it under the counter, and it mercifully fell silent.
"Or," the clerk continued, "we bury him. It’ll take longer, mind, but he’ll be eaten up by all the weevils, worms, those sorts of creatures. So, what’ll it be?"
"Well…" Harry considered it for a moment. "Anything else?"
The clerk opened up the sack and peered down at the unconscious Voldemort. "My, he’s an ugly chap, isn’t he?" the clerk opined. "But he’s got a good deal of flesh on those bones… he looks like an eater to me."
"Are—are you suggesting we—EAT him?!" Harry spluttered, turning slightly green around the edges.
"Well, yes. Not raw, mind, but well-cooked should do the trick—yes, and he should go well with some hollandaise sauce and mushrooms…" The clerk licked his lips hungrily, his eyes taking on a faraway gleam.
"Well, um, well. I guess I am feeling a bit peckish," Harry relented grudgingly.
"Wonderful! And, sir, if you’re feeling bad about it, here’s what we’ll do: We’ll dig you a grave, and you can throw up in it if he don’t agree with you."
"No, that shouldn’t be necessary," Harry replied, his mind already awhirl with plans.
* * *
Harry Apparated back to Grimmauld Place that night, his arms loaded down with bags of take-out boxes. "Hey, guys, dinner’s here!" Harry called from the empty entrance hall, grinning from ear to ear. "Who wants some Voldemort a la hollandaise?"
20 Aug
As I've said at the beginning of the past few chapters, I add scenes to these chapters as ideas are sent to me or occur to me. Once a chapter is at 50, I start the next chapter. The fact that this chapter has less than 50 is NOT AN ERROR.