Voldemort's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Voldemort's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Part I

"My lord, there are children outside."

"What?" Voldemort, né Thomas Marvolo Riddle, five-times-failed evil psychopath, said, sure he must not have heard correctly. If he had, this pitiful Death Eater would regret it.

"There a-are...children. Outside. Two. A b-boy and a girl."

"And why haven't you killed them, instead of interrupting me with such infantile concerns?"

"My lord, w-we...tried."

"We?" Voldemort said coldly, fixing the man with an acidy stare. "How many of you worthless Death Eaters have failed me in killing two children?" Before the man, dry-mouthed with terror, could reply, the boy and girl they had been speaking of entered.

"Oh, come on," the boy said, a grin on his face. "Can you really blame them?"

"After all," the girl added, nudging the boy, "you had some trouble of your own with just one kid, didn't you?"

"What did you just say?" Voldemort asked, his high voice steely with rage. His long fingers gripped his wand menacingly.

"Now, now. Is that any way to treat family?" the girl said, smiling widely. Both she and the boy brought out wands of their own.

"Wh- fam- what?" For the first time in nearly twenty years, Voldemort found himself stammering in astonishment.

"You heard her: family. Don't you recognize us, cousin Tom?" The two children exchanged glances and chuckled rather evilly.

"My name is Lord Voldemort," the dark wizard hissed, regaining his composure. "I have no family - I killed them all long ago."

"That's not what Mother says," the girl laughed. "Bet you didn't know your mother had a sister, huh?"

"Yup - Amy Marvolo Puck. Your Aunt Amy. And we're-"

"Lelith and Drucifer Puck. Your cousins. Tom."

The Death Eater, who had been ogling at them, his mouth agape, gave a strangled sound of confusion. Voldemort merely glanced at him, and he withered into a skulking, cowering mass.

"My Lord-" he gasped, sure of retribution.

"Lord?" Lelith said scornfully. "He's no lord. Our family comes from a long line of washerwomen and shoe-shiners."

Voldemort's supernaturally pale face flushed crimson, but it was impossible to tell whether it was more from fury or embarrassment. He opened his mouth to spit out a curse, but Drucifer interrupted,

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Blood calls to blood, and a lot of your power relies on the family's, especially when our connection is so close - our father was your father's nephew."

"In other words," Lelith chimed in, "Kill us, and you kill yourself. How do you think you've survived this long? It wasn't your skill as a potion-brewer, I can tell you that." The two once again shared a look and that peculiar evil chuckle.

"Speaking of family ties," Drucifer said, "As we seem to be doing, it's time to acknowledge ours. Mother is taking a vacation in the Orient, so we'll be staying with you." The children waved their wands in unison, bringing them down in a sharp arc. Three or four battered suitcases appeared.

"So, Tom," Lelith said cheerfully, "Where are our rooms?"

"YOU ARE NOT STAYING HERE!" Voldemort screamed.

"Perhaps you ought to read this first," Drucifer said craftily, drawing a silvery-purple envelope from a pocket. He held it out to Voldemort, a sly grin on his face.

Fingers shaking with rage, Voldemort broke the envelope's seal and drew out a thick sheet of velum. It was written with a spidery copperplate hand, full of flourishes but to the point.

My Dear Nephew [it ran,]

You have by now met my children, Lelith and Drucifer. Despite any thoughts you may have to the contrary, they are indeed your cousins, as I am your dear departed mother Priscilla's younger sister. As they may have told you, I am off to the Orient for a short trip. As you are their only living relative and I can neither take them with me nor leave them home alone, they will be staying with you until I return. You owe us a debt of blood - I have always known your whereabouts and could easily have dropped a word to the Ministry. Let me also say that while you have been reading this, a spell has been placed upon you. Should you turn my darlings away, you will die. Should my darlings be harmed in any way, you will also die. I suggest you believe me - you are not the only one of Marvolo blood who is capable of murder. I shall return by next month at the latest.

Your loving aunt

Amy Marvolo Puck

p.s. By the way, dear, you will not be able to tell

anyone of this arrangement, so it would be wise to

think of a probable story to tell your minions.

Ta, A.M.P.

"You tricked me!" Voldemort hissed, taking a menacing step forward.

"I never said I wouldn't," Drucifer said. "I only suggested you should read it - I didn't say why."

The Death Eater gaped in astonishment as the Dark Lord's face contorted with fury.

"My lord?" he said tentatively. "Shall I take care of these brats for you?"

"No!" Voldemort spat unwillingly, glaring at his new-found family. "Take them...take them to a room. Any room." He grit his teeth; his tongue would not let him command the Death Eater to kill them.

"A room?" Lelith said. "I am not sharing a room, cousin Tom."

"I second that," Drucifer said. "I don't know about that 'cousin Tom' stuff, though. We're sixteen and you're what, fifty? Sixty?" Voldemort was speechless. "You're more like an uncle than a cousin, age-wise."

"Uncle Voldemort?" Lelith said, grimacing. "That sounds so formal - not to mention long. How does 'Uncle Voldie' sound, Dru?"

"Yeah, 'Uncle Voldie.' Anyway, Uncle Voldie, we'll find our own rooms. Carry on with whatever you were doing before." The children took a suitcase each, then the girl said to the flabbergasted Death Eater,

"Hey, mister. Make yourself useful and get the others, huh?" Her tone brooked no argument. The man obeyed without a second thought. Looking for all the world like a royal procession, the two left the room, followed by a distinctly bemused wizard.

Voldemort stared at the door as it closed behind them, willing the whole thing to have been a bad dream.

Part II

The house had been silent for hours now. Voldemort sat in a great armchair before the fire, staring malevolently into the flames. He tried to concentrate on his many plans to regain his power, but his mind kept returning to those...kids. But the whole thing had been so unbelievable, he nearly managed to convince himself he had imagined it. The sky outside the Riddle House grew dark, and Voldemort decided to retire to his bedchamber (he often forgot that his newly-resurrected mortal form needed to sleep). He rose from his chair and opened the door -

Voldemort stopped dead in his tracks, aghast. The hall outside his door, once a wreck of his hated father's fineries that he had delighted in gloating over, was...cheery. More than that - it was positively chic. The walls were a daring black and white check, and the floor was covered in brightly colored rugs. Exotic statues and abstract paintings were placed artistically along the hall. Gone were the candle-less sconces and ominous shadows - the whole thing was bright as day! And were those actually orchids in the corner?

"What is the meaning this?!" he roared. His whole body shook with absolute fury.

Lelith came into the hall from one of the many rooms.

"Oh, I see you've noticed," she said cheerfully. "Me and Dru decided we'd redecorate for you!"

"Redecorate?!" Voldemort spluttered, gesturing angrily to what had been a perfectly good spooky-villain's-lair.

Drucifer appeared behind Lelith, a paintbrush in his hand.

"Please, Uncle Voldie. The whole 'skeletons and cobwebs' look went out with the Addams Family. We did you a favor."

"A favor-" he began, grinding his teeth, when he realized exactly what room they had entered from. "Is that my bedchamber?!"

"Yup," Lelith answered smugly. "I think you'll like it. You really ought to consider getting a wardrobe makeover, too. You're really more of a spring with your pale complexion, you know, so black is probably not your best color."

Voldemort pushed angrily past the twins to see what they had done to his chamber, his sanctum sanctorum. He breathed a sigh of relief. It looked as it always had, if perhaps a little less dusty.

"At least they didn't ruin this room," he muttered under his breath.

"You can't appreciate the whole effect with the lights on," Drucifer said, coming in. He extinguished the lights, and Voldemort groaned and put his head in his hands. A bright glow-in-the-dark mural had been plastered on every wall. Purple and gold stars and moons clustered around green snakes who, far from looking threatening, had rather blank eyes and cute smiles on their scaly visages. And over his bed...

"See, Uncle Voldie? It's you! You've just been named Best Villain of the Year!" Lelith pointed mischievously to an incongruously cheerful representation of Voldemort, holding a trophy and wearing...oh no, was that a tiara?

"Just - just get out," he said weakly, rubbing his temples. "Go to your rooms, before I decide I'd rather die than deal with you two brats!"

"Well that's gratitude for you!" Drucifer said, raising an eyebrow. "Did you actually like living in this dump? I think it's a big improvement!"

"You really ought to watch your blood-pressure, Uncle Voldie," Lelith said seriously. "Don't you have a stress ball or something? If you're not careful, you'll give yourself an aneurism one of these days."

"Get out!" Voldemort yelled, flopping down on the bed.

"You seem a little cranky, there, Vold," Dru snickered. "Come on, Lel. Uncle Vol-de-mort needs his beauty sleep."

"Does he ever..." Lelith laughed as the twins left.

Voldemort kept his eyes closed until he had closed the hangings around the bed. As soon as I wake up, he thought, I'll get one of my Death Eaters to repaint...oh no. The dingy curtains had been painted as well, with butterflies and fireflies in a field of daisies. Voldemort pulled his pillow over his head, cursing his terrible luck.

Part III

"Hah-hah!" Voldemort shrieked triumphantly. He put his hands behind his back and began to pace, a smirk of glee on his face. Harry Potter, the one person in the world capable of facing him, lay bleeding on the ground before him. "I've got you now, Potter!" But wait - why was there techno music...

Voldemort woke up.

"NO!" he yelled, realizing it had been a dream. But not all of it, apparently. As he clenched his fists in frustration, Voldemort realized that the pounding beat that had intruded on his fantasy had gotten even louder.

He stomped to the door, his anger mounting with every step. Charging down the stairs, Voldemort stopped dead in his tracks as he was blinded by the flash of a bright strobe light.

"Wha-?" he yelled, unable to even hear himself over the incredibly loud music. There were people everywhere, dancing in the semi-darkness of what looked like a hot dance club but should have been the entrance hall. Teenagers in fantastic outfits writhed to the hypnotic beat, some waving glo-sticks around. Quite a few were much older, head-banging by a speaker.

"Uncle Voldie!" a voice cried, amplified by a spell. Lelith, dressed in a short black dress and sporting dozens of silver bangle bracelets, came over. "I'm sorry, did we wake you?"

"What are you wearing, young lady?" Voldemort blinked. Did that just come out of my mouth? he thought, aghast. He shook his head to clear it. "I mean - what are all these people doing in my house?!"

"Our house," Lelith corrected. "And they're dancing - what does it look like they're doing?"

"Uncle Voldie!" Dru said from by the stereo (wait a minute! Voldemort thought, I don't even have a stereo...). "You're awake! Pull up a piece of floor. Any requests? We've got just about every song ever recorded!"

"GET THESE PEOPLE OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Voldemort roared, just a lull in the music left the entire room silent. Everyone turned to look at him; Voldemort almost cringed, but caught himself in time. Luckily, another song began almost at once. He sighed in relief. "Look," he said a bit softer, although still necessarily in a raised voice because of the music, "I am going to count to three. If these people aren't gone by then, I will kill them all, do you hear me?!"

"Oh, come off it, Uncle Voldie!" Lelith said, pouting. "Don't be such a party-pooper! Besides, these are our friends - so they fall under the same protection we do!"

Voldemort gave a groan of horror.

"Oh - there you are - my lord," panted a voice from behind him. Voldemort turned around. Lucius Malfoy was bumping and grinding with a scantily-clad young woman in fluorescent face-paint.

"What are you doing?" Voldemort said, appalled. Was this one of his more trusted Death Eaters?!

"My - most humble - apologies - my lord," Lucius gasped between breaths. "I heard - something- had happened - so I came-"

"Stop that dancing at once!" Voldemort hissed angrily.

"I - cannot - my lord," Lucius said, a hint of desperation under the obvious annoyance and embarrassment. "I think - there's some kind of - spell - in the music..."

To Voldemort's horror, Lucius appeared to be right. Against his will, he found himself beginning to dance as well.

"I didn't know you knew the hustle, Uncle Voldie," Lelith said, amused.

"This is your doing!" he spat, trying unsuccessfully to assume some vestige of dignity.

"Just think of it as Wallflower Insurance," Drucifer called from the turntable. "A party's no fun if only a few people dance."

"Take this spell off of me!" Voldemort demanded, as he began a complicated salsa tango with a giggling platinum blonde.

"Oh, come on," Lelith laughed, dancing herself. "You two are so cute together! And we'd love an Auntie Voldemort. Although with all your fascist tendencies, I wouldn't have expected you to hook up with a Muggle."

"There are Muggles in my house?" Voldemort tried to leap at the girl's throat, but all his effort got him was an impressive bit of break-dancing.

"Oh, don't go all genocidal on us now," Lelith said. "A Hitler impression is bound to dampen the mood."

"Yeah, dude," the blonde Muggle said plaintively, "Why you gotta be harshin' our buzz?"

"If you're gonna be like that," Drucifer said in a disapproving tone, much as if he were talking to a naughty child, "You might as well go back to bed."

"I would go back to bed if this music wasn't so bloody loud!" Voldemort yelled. "And if I could stop dancing!"

Lelith snapped, and abruptly Voldemort's limbs were his own once more.

"You're such a wet blanket," she sighed, shaking her head. "This is going to be a long couple of months if this is any indication of how you're going to be."

"The music's still too loud," Voldemort muttered, realizing even as he said it that he sounded like a sulky three-year-old.

"Well, use a dampening spell, for heaven's sake," Lelith said, sounding exasperated. "You're one of the most powerful wizards of all time, and you don't have the wits to think of that?"

"Yeah, come on, wizard dude," the blonde said in a disgusted tone, "I'm not even trained and I could have told you that."

Suppressing a childish urge to retort 'Shut up!', Voldemort mumbled,

"Sonus finit," and trudged up the stairs, glad he could not hear the comments he saw Lelith and Drucifer exchanging.

Part IV

Voldemort cracked open his eyes. Two pairs of blue-green eyes sparkling mischievously filled his vision. He felt the startled yelp that he gave, but did not hear it. Voldemort convulsed, startled, and banged his head against the headboard. Through the stars that produced, he could see Lelith and Drucifer's mouths moving, but no sound came from them. Oh no! Voldemort thought in despair. I'm deaf! Abruptly he remembered the dampening spell of the previous night, and hastily canceled it.

"- no reason to yell," Lelith was saying, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, Uncle Voldie, how could you possibly rule the world if you can't even handle that little bit of stress?"

"What are you two doing in here?" he snarled, clutching the rapidly growing bump on the back of his head. The sunlight (Sunlight? What happened to my black curtains?!) streamed into the room, making Voldemort screw up his eyes against its brightness. "What time is it?"

"It's nine a.m., Uncle Voldie," Drucifer said cheerfully. "And since you seemed a little put-out last night, we thought we'd make it up to you-"

"- by making you breakfast in bed," Lelith finished, even more cheerfully.

They've got to be kidding, Voldemort thought, too nonplussed to even react when they proved there were not, in fact, kidding: the two plunked a heavy tray onto his lap. A stack of chocolate-chip pancakes on a bright blue plate smiled - yes, smiled! There was a big grin on its 'face,' drawn with whipped cream, yet! - up at him, along with half a dozen slices of bacon. A dainty glass of orange juice sat beside a china cup of coffee, which was accompanied by a tiny silver pitcher of cream. There was even a vase with flowers in it! Voldemort's vision turned red with a haze of fury.

"I AM THE DARK LORD VOLDEMORT, GOD DAMN IT! I DO NOT EAT BREAKFAST IN BED! I DO NOT DRINK ORANGE JUICE! I DO NOT EAT CHOCOLATE-CHIP PANCAKES!"

"I told you we should have left out the chocolate chips, Dru," Lelith said, staring pointedly at her brother.

"THAT IS NOT THE POINT!" Voldemort began, but Drucifer interrupted him,

"Excuse me? Um, pretty sure it was you who made the pancakes, Lel."

"Um, pretty sure it wasn't."

"Yeah, well, apparently you're losing your memory in your old age."

"I am only ten minutes older than you, Drucifer Tyrus Puck!"

"Yeah, and ten minutes more stupid, Lelith Jezebel Puck!"

"Oh yeah? Well, if I'm 'more stupid,' how come I know it's 'stupider'?!"

"'Stupider' isn't a word!"

"Yeah, I kinda think it is."

"What the hell kind of word is 'stupider'? Don't be an ignoremus!"

"It's ignoramus, you putz!"

"Hey!" Voldemort said, but the two ignored him.

"Don't call me a putz, you whore!"

"Whore? How dare you?!"

"Very easily! Almost as easy as you seem to be!"

"I'll have you know I'm a virgin!"

"A virgin what?"

"Hey!" Voldemort repeated, louder.

Lelith and Drucifer faced each other over the bed, wands out and pointed at each other. They glared malevolently at each other, their shoulders hunched like two cats about to jump at the other's throat. Their voices began to rise, as they became angrier.

"At least I've got options! You haven't had a girlfriend in what, two years?"

"Six months - and I'm not ready for another relationship yet. It's a little thing called commitment! You should try it sometime, instead of getting a new guy every two hours!"

"You wouldn't know commitment if it shat in your face!"

"'Shat'? Now I know you're just making up words!"

"Uh, no. Shit, conjugated in the subjunctive: shat."

"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP?!" Voldemort yelled. "YOU BRING ME BREAKFAST IN BED, AND THEN YOU RUIN IT BY SCREAMING AT EACH OTHER? HOW IS THIS SUPPOSED TO MAKE IT UP TO ME?!"

The two were immediately smiles again.

"Sorry, Uncle Voldie," they chorused.

"Look, if I eat this," Voldemort said, gritting his teeth, "will you please leave me alone?"

"Only if you eat it all," Lelith said sweetly.

"Fine!" he said, throwing his hands in the air. "Here, I'm eating! Leave!" He picked his fork and knife and waved them at the children. They grinned and looked at each other. "Leave!"

"Jeez, Voldie," Drucifer said. "Don't be such a kvetch!"

"'Kvetch'?" Lelith said, "Now who's the one making up words?"

"The Yiddish, apparently. Look it up. I guarantee it's a word."

"GET OUT!" Voldemort screamed...around a mouthful of chocolate-chip pancakes.

"We're leaving, we're leaving." And they did, giggling madly.

Part V

Voldemort, having finished his pancakes and bacon, was trying to relieve his feelings by hurling the plates at the wall. Unfortunately, the twins seemed to have prepared for such a contingency and the china, obviously protected by some spell, bounced once or twice and lay on the floor unharmed. Voldemort could feel himself beginning to pout in frustration, a habit he had been trying to rid himself of for most of his life. Finally giving up, he rose and went to his wardrobe.

And promptly gave a howl of fury. It was empty except for a note in what he assumed was Lelith's handwriting.

Sorry, Uncle Voldie. Since you don't seem to have heard of a washer or dryer, we had to send your robes to a drycleaners'. Don't worry - they'll be back in a few days. We've left you something to wear, no fear - although I'd love to see your face if you had to come down the stairs au naturelle, so to speak. Just kidding (maybe).

Lelith

There in the shadows was a single, solitary hanger, on which hung a rather tatty suit of Muggle clothing in a glaring red and orange print. With it went a blindingly white polyester shirt, a pair of white high-heeled boots, and a purple bow tie. Accepting defeat with his usual ill grace, Voldemort donned it - although he drew the line at the tie. He gazed in the mirror - he looked like a fool. Face burning, he went down the stairs.

Mercifully, the dance club had been cleared away to show the old entrance hall - or at least Lelith and Drucifer's version of it. Sunshine shone in the newly-washed windows and there wasn't a speck of dust to be seen. It was so cheery Voldemort felt sick. There was even a "God Bless This Villain's Lair" plaque over the door!

"Where are you?!" he yelled.

"Right here," Drucifer said from the library. "There's really no reason to shout, Uncle Voldie. We're not deaf."

Voldemort went in, steeling himself for the inevitable spectacle of cleanliness. Drucifer and Lelith were sitting at the desk, each with a silvery box that said 'Dell' on the back. They appeared totally absorbed by what they saw.

"How am I supposed to maintain a decent evil mystique if you turn this house into a bloody showplace?" Voldemort growled.

"Nonsense," Lelith said absently, a tinny dinging coming from her box, which, Voldemort saw, was one of those Muggle 'computer' things he had heard of. "You never had any mystique to begin with, so you've nothing to complain about."

"I am the Dark Lord Voldemort! I will not be made a mockery of!"

"You shouldn't let your prepositions dangle," Drucifer said. A strange sound came from his computer, and he glared at Voldemort. "Now see what you did! You broke my concentration and made me lose! Now I'll have to begin that level all over again."

"Hah," Lelith said smugly. "I'm at level nine, Dru. In your face!" However, her computer made an identical sound as Dru's had, and her face fell.

"Serves you right," Dru said, a pious note in his face.

"It doesn't matter - I already beat your high score."

"What is this Muggle trash doing in my home?" Voldemort spat, brandishing his wand at the two. "Get it out of here - now!"

"You expect us to be here for an entire month without computers? Without AIM? Without internet? Without email? Without Quake 4?!"

"YES!" Voldemort screamed. "If I must have you two in my home for the next month, I will not tolerate you polluting it with Muggle 'technology'!"

"Hey, don't knock it," Lelith said, frowning. "I would have died if I hadn't had my iPod at school last year. Magic can only do so much in the way of entertainment, Uncle Voldie."

"Come on, Voldie, have you honestly never seen a movie, even? I bet that guy Hannibal Lecter would be right up your alley."

"And another thing," Voldemort said, ignoring them. "If you take my clothes again, I will have you locked in the cellar without food or water! I may not be able to hurt you, but a week or two in the dark might teach you to respect my things!"

"Respect is earned," Lelith replied, sticking her tongue out. "And quite frankly, nothing you've done so far has seemed worthy of it. Come on, threatening to lock us up for getting your robes cleaned? It's no wonder people avoid you if this is how you repay kindness. Love your taste in suits, by the way - although I'm fairly sure that the 70s are not coming back any time soon, sorry to disappoint you."

Voldemort gave a groan of utter despair and left the room, unable to deal with his relatives any longer. Why couldn't he have killed them as soon as the came in the door?! He was trying to sulk properly, but he stumbled on his heels and fell face-first to the floor. As soon as they leave, I am becoming a hermit!

Part VI

It was about three hours later that Voldemort remembered that a) he was a wizard, damn it! and b) he could conjure up a new set of robes like that...if only he thought of it. Muttering curses in parseltongue, Voldemort proceeded to do just that and was immediately clothed in his favorite black silk robes with the very nice forest-green piped trim and the silver frog closure in the shape of a coiled snake... well, anyway, his favorite robes. As he adjusted the sleeves and smoothed out a wrinkle or two (because nine-tenths of terrifying presence is neatness of attire), Voldemort scowled so malevolently at the mirror that it cracked.

"Oooh, that's seven years bad luck, Uncle Voldie," Dru's voice said from behind him.

"My bad luck is already here," Voldemort muttered.

"Look, Lel and I wanted to go out for the evening - " Thank God, some peace at last! Voldemort thought - "and we need some pocket money."

This last almost made Voldemort do a double take.

"Pocket...money?" he spluttered, staring at the boy.

"Yeah, you know, that stuff made out of paper and metal that you exchange for goods and services?"

"Not only do I have to supply you with room and board and put up with you living in my house, but you expect me to GIVE YOU MONEY?!"

"Chillax, Uncle Voldie! All we need is about €100...each..." [author's note: that's about $125 for my fellow Americans]

Voldemort gave an incomprehensible yell of rage that might, had it been in a language anyone understood, have contained the worst epithets known to man.

"That is it!!" he yelled, his slitted eyes dilating with pure wrath. "You had a chance until that! I forbid you to use muggle money!"

"Well, 740 Galleons, then! We're not picky."

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"Fine then," Dru said nonchalantly. "We'll just have to hang around here with you. We can make it a family game night - you have Monopoly, right? You can even be the banker -"

"Wait!" Voldemort said, gritting his teeth. Anything was better than that sort of threat. "Here." He fished into his pockets and brought out around 50 Galleons in assorted small change. "Just take this and go."

"What the hell are we supposed to buy with this?" Dru stared at the small pile of Sickles and Knuts in disgust. "This isn't 1932, Uncle Voldie. There's this little thing called inflation."

"Well, I can't exactly stroll into Gringotts and make a withdrawal," Voldemort retorted in irritation.

"I know," Dru replied, seeming abashed. "Sorry, Uncle Voldie. We'll just have to work with what we have..." he brought out his wand and poked at the mound of coins. "Ditameo!" The heap of money swelled noticeably, and some of the silvers and coppers shimmered to gold.

"You can't do that!" Voldemort said, staring at the small fortune. Why didn't I think of that?!

"Oh, you're fine with killing innocents and overthrowing world powers, but counterfeiting money you stick at?"

Voldemort could not think of an appropriate reply.

"Here," Dru said, handing him a few Galleons. "Don't spend it all in one place."

Voldemort's jaw dropped at this audacity, but Dru had already left the room.

The 'Dark Lord' spent the rest of the night trying the money spell Drucifer had used...without any success whatsoever.