A Death Eater Meeting That Will Never Happen

A Death Eater Meeting That Will Never Happen (with Variations)

By Alice D.

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, of course it was. Do cliche-filled stories start anytime else? Deep in some unknown region of nowhere, in a dilapidated brick building, something evil was lurking. No, not just evil, truly eeeeeeviiillll!

And since this is a Harry Potter fic, and the authoress is very uncreative, the evil went by the name of Lord Voldemort.

(It was actually Voldemort, not just some Muggle watching TV in his boxers who used the name. Just so you know.)

None of the Death Eaters had yet arrived, as Voldemort hadn't called them yet. And it's rude to show up to a Dark Revel without being invited.

Anyway, only Wormtail was there, doing whatever faithful evil caretakers do for their Lords when the other Death Eaters aren't there to do it. But all was not well between the servant and his master.

Let's eavesdrop on them, shall we?

*****

Wormtail was sweeping the floor of the house, trying to get ready for the coming meeting. Suddenly, Voldemort's high, cold voice sounded.

"Wormtail, look upon me."

Wormtail, in his rat-like way, glanced up nervously. "Master?"

"I'm intimidating, aren't I?" the thin voice asked from an armchair sitting nearby. (And Lord Voldemort was sitting in the chair, by the way. It wasn't the chair talking. Just so you know.)

The other wizard nodded.

"Terrible, frightening....?"

"Oh, yes," Wormtail said, as if he'd said it many times before. "You're the worst, the..." He stopped, and sighed heavily. "Woah, woah woah. Let's not go into this again, all right? I don't want to upset you."

"No, but really. Do I look that bad?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not at all. You look fine, Master."

"Liar. You think I'm ugly, don't you?"

"Errmm..." Wormtail muttered, looking around at the walls.

"You are so hurtful. God, Wormy, you're supposed to be my most faithful evil minion. Then you go and..."

And the most eeeeeeviiillll wizard in a century promptly burst into tears.

Wormtail rolled his eyes (again) and sighed even more heavily, then crawled over to Voldemort, and gingerly patted him on the head, as the Dark Lord bawled into his dusty robes. "Now, now..." he murmured.

"I'm *sniffle* sorry! *sob* You know I *hiccup* have a *sob* negative self image! That's w-why I go and k-kill so many people. It's 'c-cause I don't want a-anyone to be pr-prettier than me! Whaaaaa!"

As soon as he calmed down, Wormtail asked him gently, "Do you want to call the other Death Eaters now? Will that make you feel better, Punkin?" Voldemort nodded, and Wormtail went back to cleaning.

Meanwhile, the Dark Lord raised a finger and rested it against the Mark on his arm.

Soon thereafter there were several popping sounds and Death Eaters began to apparate within the room. First Goyle and Avery, then Crabbe (who apparated into Lord Voldemort's lap, and quickly hopped out.) And there were others too, but the authoress is lazy and refuses to go get the fourth book and flip through it's 1 million-some holy pages looking for the specific names. So they'll just be nameless.

And so the Death Eaters gathered around Voldemort in their spooky Death Eater gear, and waited for him to speak. And waited. In fact it took five minutes of complete silence before Voldemort noticed that the Death Eaters were waiting for him. He had been in his happy place. And you don't want to know how scary and depressing Lord Voldemort's happy place is, so I won't even describe it.

Finally:

"Oh -- Welcome, my servants, to my new home. We had to change meeting places because the Order of the Phoenix found us out... again...."

Wormtail cut in. "As they'll continue to do at least once each spring, until the seventh year when Harry Potter will vanquish you once and for all, and the book series will end." The Death Eaters and Voldemort turned to stared at him. Wormtail looked quizzical. "What?"

They all shook their heads and turned back around.

"So... any orders of business you want to address?"

"Lord Voldemort, sir?"

"Yes, Avery?"

"How about the Order?"

"What order, Avery? Be more specific."

"The Order, sir. Shouldn't we do something about it? I mean, you heard Wormtail. That Harry Potter'll vanquish us. See, I don't got that big a vocabulary, but that don't sound so good. Shouldn't we, like, kill the members of the Order or something, and make sure we don't get, uh, vanquished?"

Voldemort stared at the Death Eater for a moment, as he had at Wormtail. "I'm a little hard of hearing, dear. Speak a little louder next time.

"Anybody else?"

From somewhere in the dark room, a voice came. "I have one."

All the other Death Eaters flinched a little, startled, but then realized it was only Malfoy. Malfoy always stood in the dark corners (often facing the wall muttering eeeviiiilll things to himself) and came around to frighten and annoy them when it was least expected.

Let's just say he wasn't a team player. But the Dark Lord loved him anyway.

"Yes, Maly-Waly?" simpered Voldemort.

Malfoy grinned goofily. (So perhaps there is some truth to those slash fics with Malfoy/Voldemort pairings!)

"We need..." Malfoy said in his evillest voice, "a secret handshake!"

A uneasy disturbance of disturbed unease ran through the ranks of Death Eaters.

"What mean you, by this handshake?" asked McNair. *HA! I remembered another one!*

"I mean, there needs to be some way to greet each other on the street or wherever that won't look too suspicious. And plus, it will be fun. But I need a mandatory volunteer...

"SEVERUS!"

One of the masked Death Eaters jumped about three feet in the air, and shouted, "I'm not a spy!" A silent moment of silence followed. "I mean... yes?"

"Come here, Snape."

The other Death Eater shuffled forward. Of course he shuffled. It's not easy to walk in those robes, let me tell you. Not that I've had experience, that is. (Or have I? Mwahahahahahaha!)

"Give me your hand."

Snape put out one gloved hand. Malfoy took it and shook it. Then they bumped fists. "Give me five." Snape did. "Give it high..."

Snape hit Malfoy's hand, which he had raised above his head.

"Give it low..."

Snape missed, as Malfoy moved his hand.

"Too slow, Joe!" Malfoy giggled. The others were quiet.

"Laugh, imbeciles!" screamed Voldemort. They all began to chuckle, chortle, snicker, snigger, snort, roar, guffaw and carry on until Voldemort ordered them to stop again.

"Now, that's out of the way. Anything else?" asked the Dark Lord, as Snape, blushing furiously under his white mask, slid back into the circle.

"I have another idea!" cried Malfoy. "We must have an EVIL BAKE SALE!"

The Death Eaters standing around Malfoy rubbed their ears he had shouted so loud. But Lord Voldemort (who was a little hard of hearing anyway) was interested. "A bake sale?"

"That's what I said. We need wizard gold for some cool new spells of destruction, don't we?"

"Sure,"said Voldemort. "Anybody bake?" More than half the Death Eaters raised their hands (including Snape. So perhaps there is some truth to those slash fics featuring Sirius and the Potions Master!)

"Excellent. We've always had some trouble with funding. Make some nice cookies or brownies in the shape of Dark Marks for next month. We'll sell them in Knockturn Alley. The freaks there will love them!" Voldemort rubbed his hands together. "That it?"

"Uh huh," murmured the Death Eaters.

""At last I've reached me peak! The Dream Team won't know where we got the money! I'm the greatest dark wizard of all time! Who was Grindlewald?"

"NOBODY!" chorused the Death Eaters.

"Who was Saruman?"

"NOBODY!"

"Who was... Lance Burton?"

"NOBODY!"

"Okay then, let's sing our Cult Song. Wormtail, start us off please?"

Wormtail took a pitch pipe from his robes, and blew. The Death Eaters all hummed the first note.

"Who's the swiniest swine in the world?" the Dark Lord sang.

"VOLDEMORT! VOLDEMORT!"

"Who's the evillest guy in this wonderful world?"

"VOLDEMORT! VOLDEMO-O-ORT!"

"Wizard of villainy, murder and loot. Eager to hex any who dares to say he isn't cute!"

"You're cute!"shrieked Wormtail. Voldemort put his wand back it his pocket.

"Thank you. Who's the slimiest rat in the pack?"

"VOLDEMORT! VOLDEMORT!"

"Who's unlovable?"

"YOU!"

"Who's unlivable?"

"YOU!"

"Who's existence is quite unforgivable?"

"YOU!"

"Who would stoop to the lowest and cheapest of spells in Book Four?"

"SPELLS IN BOOK FOUR!"

"BLIMEY, SLIMEY VOLDEMORT!"

"Who's the -"

But he never got into the second verse of the song. Because right then, who should appear but... Harry Potter! (Oh, my goodness! We're all surprised!)

"Voldemort! Your evil reign of terror has ended!" cried Harry in a manly voice. "I have overheard your plan of the evil bake sale, and this is where it ends. That's right, I, Harry Potter, have come to vanquish you!"

All the Death Eaters screamed in high girlish voices. Voldemort shouted above the throng, "Aren't you supposed to be fifteen? You look like you're thirty!"

"I've developed more quickly than my faithful sidekicks. But that's beside the point! Let the vanquishing begin!" He whipped out his magic wand, and waved it about. (Doesn't that sound dirty?) "Jiggery pokery! Hocus pocus, squiggily wiggly...."

And with those words, Voldemort and his Death Eater servants were indeed vanquished once and for all, and the thirty-year-old actor who played Harry and his ten-year-old sidekicks lived happily ever after. Actually, since Harry vanquished the villain at the end of Book Five, the conflict ended, and there was no need for books Six and Seven. So the series ends here, as JK Rowling said it would. With Scar.

That's One Way it Could Have Happened. But try this.

"BLIMEY, SLIMEY VOLDEMORT!"

They finished the song looking very pleased with themselves. "So... handshake, Cult Song, and the Evil Bake Sale's in line for next month ..." Voldemort listed, ticking them off on his fingers. "Have it all down, Wormy?" he asked.

Wormtail looked up from his notepad where he'd been taking minutes. "Yep."

"So let's get on with the dark revelries! Time to par-tay!" Voldemort shouted. Disco lights and techno music filled the room, and the Death Eaters started dancing.

"Get down with your dark selves! Let's have an organized dance!" cried the Dark Lord after a few minutes. "Form a circle!

"Ready?! Okay! Ohhhh... You put your right foot in, you put your right foot out, you put your right foot in, and you shake it all about. You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself about. That's what it's all about!

"You put your left foot in..."

The Death Eaters were all plainly enjoying themselves -- even Malfoy had joined into the fun, Hokeying and Pokeying like there was no tomorrow.

Fifteen minutes later:

"...you put your whole body in, and you shake it all about. You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn yourself about. That's -- what it's all -- about!"

"Whoo! You having fun tonight?" asked Voldemort.

The Death Eaters screamed their excitement.

"Well, we have a special guest tonight, who's gonna do a little stand up comedy for us. All the way from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Mr. Harry Potter!"

The crowd burst into wild cheers, as Harry ran out onto the stage. (Yes, there's a stage now. Let's just say it got there by magic.)

"Hello, slaves of Voldemort! Let me hear you scream!"

The assembly roared back.

"I just flew here from a Scottish castle, and boy, is my Firebolt tired!"

Complete silence answered.

Harry laughed nervously. "Well, hey. Tough crowd. You probably think I have a big ego, the famous dude who conquered your master, right? Well, just to let you know, I'm not really happy with all the fame.

"Do I really want a big scar on my forehead, that warns me of the Dark Lord's presence by giving me a migraine? Let me tell you, my head's killing me right now!"

*Scattered chuckles from the crowd.*

"Oh, but the ladies love me! Just three years ago, I received my one and only Valentine ever from my best friend's little sister! It went like this:

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard.

I wish he was mine, he's really divine,

the hero who conquered the dark lord."

The Death Eaters roared with laughter.

"Oh, right, you think that's funny! Well! You know what I hate in a woman? Bossiness! Take my friend Hermione -- please!"

More laughter followed. Harry assumed he was really charming the crowd, so he tried something daring.

"And what about Voldemort, huh? What's with that guy? He's old, he's young, he's dead, he's alive ... Pick one phase of mortal life and stick with it! We all know you're over the hill, Voldie! No reason to go through even more dangerous magical transformations than you already have to hide your wrinkles! I mean, you're bald! What more evidence do we need?"

The crowd had been grumbling mutinously through this short tirade, (*Grumble, grumble, grumble! Mutiny, mutiny, mutiny!*) and now burst into full-out boos, throwing rotten vegetables onto the stage.

"Beat it! Get him off the stage, Master!" shrieked Parkinson (my memory's coming back!).

Voldemort smiled and raised his wand. "It'd be my pleasure. Avada Kadavra!"

In a blast of green light Harry Potter was gone.

"Anyone up for Karaoke?" asked the Dark Lord into the silence that followed.

"Yeah!" screamed the mob.

"SEVERUS!" shouted Voldemort.

"I'm not a spy!.... I mean, yes, Master?"

"Come entertain us!"

"All right. I have a song especially picked out." Snape hopped up on the stage and some music started playing.

"What you don't know about me is...

I'm a....

Double agent on the Dark Lord's side!

I see the Dark Mark when I close my eyes, every time, recognise

That who I am to you is not a lie.

I don't have volunteer and say

That I give Dark information away.

I have no uniform or camufloge in any light.

Obviously you can't tell I'm a double agent on the Dark Lord's side!..."

What about this ending?

"So let's get on with the dark revelries. SEVERUS!" cried Voldemort suddenly.

"I'M NOT A SPY!... I mean... yeah?"

"Oo, how smooth," murmured Knott sarcastically to Goyle.

An evil smile passed over the Dark Lord's face. "Because you're so faithful to our franchise of evil doings, we got you a little present. Malfoy!"

Lucius Malfoy stalked into the room levitating a young bound girl, who was struggling for all she was worth. The girl was Hermione Granger.

Snape gasped loudly and melodramatically. "Hermione!" cried Snape. "No! ... I mean... thank you, Master. I've never seen this girl before in my life."

"That guy really is such a smoothy," said Parkinson dryly to Crabbe. "We really believe him, oh yeah."

"Oh, Snapey-Wapey!" cried Hermione, damsel-in-distress style. "Save me!"

"Hermy-Wermy, I wish I could, but they'll probably want us to make violent love to each other in front of them. That's what happens in most badly written Snape/Hermione fics!"

Then they kissed passionately. (So perhaps there is some truth to those fics featuring Hermione and the Potions Master!)

The Death Eaters watched with interest as articles of clothing were thrown into the crowd from the busy couple on the platform. (Yes, there's a platform. It got there by magic, too.)

Voldemort caught Hermione's pink panties, and after staring blankly at them for a moment, put them on his head.

In the midst of all this commotion, who should show up at the door but Harry Potter! (Oh, my goodness! We're all surprised! Again!)

"Hermione!" cried Harry. "No!"

"Hey, that was my line!" Snape whined.

"I'll save you! Clothesendium!" and suddenly Hermione was once again fully clothed.

"Oh, Harry-Wary! Thank you for saving me! Now, uh, could you leave? I have business to finish with Sevie..."

"Oh, no! He's bewitched you!" said Harry, block-headed-hero style. Then, to get his best friend away from the lecherous Professor, yelled, "Accio Hermione!"

Screaming, Hermione flew across the room, and hit Harry in the stomach, bowling him over. "Ha! Take that, Snape!" puffed Harry from the floor.

"Accio Hermione!" Snape snapped back. She flew across the room again. "Oof! What's the deal, Potter?" called Snape. "I thought you liked Cho Chang!"

"Accio Hermione! Didn't work out! I sorta got her boyfriend killed, remember? Wouldn't it be a little awkward? Oof!"

"Accio Hermione! I guess you're right. But still. Why don't you -- oof -- like Ginny Weasley?"

"Accio Hermione! That would have been awkward, too! Ron's a jealous son of a -- oof!"

Hermione stood up. "He is not! Why isn't Ron here to protect me?"

"But I thought you liked me that way!"

Hermione rolled her eyes annoyingly. "Of course I don't like you that way! You should have taken the hint from the fourth book. Why, even Daniel Radcliffe, the actor who plays you in the movies, thinks Ron and I should get together!"

Harry's eyes filled with tears. "Why does this always happen to me?! Why can't I have a normal girlfriend!"

"I'm always available, sugar," said Snape coyly to Harry. (So perhaps there is some truth to those slash fics featuring Harry Potter and the Potions Master!)

As Harry was looking utterly disgusted by the mental image, one of the Death Eaters tore himself away from the drama that was unfolding, and called to Voldemort, "Master, Harry Potter's here. Don't you want to kill him?"

But Voldemort was too busy skipping around the room with Hermione's pink panties on his head singing "I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and gay!" to pay any attention.

So the nameless Death Eater of namelessness mentioned before shrugged and turned back to watch the interesting love triangle that was forming.

"You are such a liar, chica! Oh my God!" Harry was saying, moving his head back and forth like a girl starting a cat fight. "I did not say that about your teeth."

"You did so, Harry!" Hermione hissed back.

The nameless Death Eater regarded Voldemort again. "Are you really sure, Master, cause you know, he's here. And he's not really paying attention..."

From behind the nameless Death Eater, Harry could be heard saying, "I want the truth," and Snape replying angrily, "You can't handle the truth."

"Really, whenever you feel like getting your wand out and hexing them into oblivion, just say the word, and we're behind you all the way."

But Voldemort was now tap dancing and singing "Tomorrow" from the musical Annie. The Death Eater figured he simply couldn't be helped.

"Whore!" cried Snape, pulling Hermione's hair, "Whore!"

"What mean you by this?" asked Harry very seriously.

After a moment of heavy breathing: "I have known her!"

Harry's eyes widened. "Where?"

"The proper place where my beasts are bedded."

Harry's eyes positively popped. "You two... in a barn?" Hermione and Snape turned red with shame. (Snape's mask was taken off, remember?)

Harry got the utterly disgusted look on his face again, and turned away. There was a moment of awkward silence, in which all the Death Eaters leaned forward in their chairs, and Voldemort could be heard singing "Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly...", head still pantified.

"So, you've come to save her. And now you have, sort of," Snape said. "Anything else you're planning to do here?"

"Huh? Oh! Right! I just remembered." He cleared his throat. "Voldemort! Your evil reign of terror has ended!" cried Harry in a manly voice. "I have overheard your plan of the evil bake sale, and this is where it ends. That's right, I, Harry Potter, have come to vanquish you!"

Voldemort stopped in mid-twirl, and said, "Phooey. Oh, well, can't win them all. Vanquish away, Potter."

Harry whipped out his magic wand and waved it about. (Yeah, that definitely sounds dirty.) "Jiggery-"

"No, Harry! Wait!" interrupted Hermione. "If you vanquish them now, we won't be able to finish the book series! You won't fulfil JK Rowling's dream to make it seven books long! You won't get a girlfriend!"

Harry sighed. "Oh, you're right, of course. Let's just go home. See you next year, guys."

"Bye, Harry," the Death Eaters murmured as Harry, Snape, and Hermione let themselves out of the dilapidated brick building deep in some unknown region of nowhere.

"Let's celebrate our victory!" announced Voldemort as soon as they left. "An organized dance!

"If you're evil and you know it clap your hands!"

*Clap, clap*.....

But Here's How It Really Happened.

"BLIMEY, SLIMEY VOLDEMORT!"

The Death Eaters were celebrating the wonderful performance of their Cult Song, when the door to the hideout burst open with a BANG! -- and there stood the whole Dream Team, Hermione looking ravishing, curly hair windswept; Harry looking serious and handsome, holding his wand aloft; and Ron, in his first real life appearance in this poorly written story (how could I have left him out!) as the tall, gangley, yet still quite sexy, comic relief, hair aflame.

That was a mouthful for the authoress, and she realizes that it was a run-on sentence. But that's okay, apparently, when you're describing characters. Especially Mary-Sues.

The Dream Team stood poised in the doorway, just as Charlie's Angels might. The song "Independent Woman" by Destiny's Child was playing out of nowhere.

"Why, hello there," Voldemort greeted them mildly (as soon as the music and freezeframe had ended). "Come to join our little party? We're about to play a game of Twister."

"Voldemort!" cried Harry in the cracked, adolescent voice you'd expect from an underdeveloped fifteen year old.

"Oh, please, son," interrupted the Dark Lord in a friendly, paternal voice. "Call me Uncle Voldie."

Hermione, Harry, and Ron gave each other a Look. And yes, it is imperative that Look be capitalized in this instance.

"Uncle Voldie!" started Harry again.

"Your evil reign of terror has ended!" continued Hermione, as if they had scripted the speech word for word. (Which they had, the day before in the common room. But that's beside the point.)

"We have over-heard your plan of the evil bake sale and... how lame have you guys gotten?" asked Ron, unable to restrain himself and straying from the script.

"Ron!" hissed Hermione, stomping on his foot.

"What?" he hissed back, hopping up and down, nursing his foot. "I'm the comic relief! It's my job to lighten the mood of any potentially serious situation. Hence the name, comic relief? And furthermore..."

But Hermione quickly shut him up by kissing him on the lips, as Harry looked on in shock.

"I knew it!" cried Voldem- er- "Uncle Voldie". "I just knew those two'd get together someday!"

"Why doesn't anyone tell me about these things?" whined Harry, wiping away a tear.

"You were too busy with your Triwizard Tournament stuff last year to notice," said Uncle Voldie matter-of-factly.

"Hello? If I hadn't been busy studying and stuff for the tournament, I'd be dead now," replied Harry, as if it were obvious.

Voldemort stroked his chin. "Yes, it's a shame you're not..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Voldemort said quickly, looking at the ceiling.

"Would you two cut that out!?" snapped Harry, looking peeved that his best friends were still going at it.

"Can we please get on with the story? The authoress thinks it's starting to drag..." said Wormtail.

"Oh, all right," sighed Voldemort. "SEVERUS!"

"I'M A SPY! I mean... I'm not a spy... I mean..." Snape continued to put his foot in his mouth, as Voldemort just looked blankly around. Apparently, just like Dumbledore, the Dark Lord could become momentarily deaf when it was convenient.

Finally Snape's incoherent mumblings were cut off, as Voldemort flapped his arms, saying, "Do away with these party poopers. They are not welcome here!" He then put his hands on his hips like a woman, and waited expectantly.

"Okay..." Snape said doubtfully. He waved his wand. "Castlearimus!"

With a shriek (from Hermione), the Dream Team disappeared.

"What did you do?" asked Voldemort curiously.

"It's... er- a new killing spell?" lied Snape. "It... uh, kills people," he added.

"Ooooo.... ahhhh," murmured the Death Eaters.

"Oh, oh, oh! Can't I try it? Pretty, pretty please? With sugar on top?" begged Voldemort, bouncing up and down in his seat.

"Errr..." stalled Snape, wondering if it was smart to give the most evil wizard in a century easy access to Hogwarts. Then he figured, who cares? No skin off my large hooked nose. "I will only let you use my amazing killing spell of amazingness," Snape said, warming to his subject, "if you promise to use it only when you really hate the person."

Voldemort hesitated, thinking. It looked quite painful. "Well... okay. What was the word again?"

"Castlearimus."

"Hmmm. Strange choice of words for a killing spell --"

"It's French," fibbed Snape quickly.

"Oh. Darn! I knew I should have taken a language in college," Voldemort mused, half to himself.

"Soooo," said Snape, changing the subject. "How about that game of Twister!"

Epilogue. (Because all good stories have to have one.)

Of course, Ron, Harry and Hermione weren't dead. They had indeed been sent safely back to Hogwarts, and were now rushing quickly from the Great Hall to Dumbledore's office to report about the escapade. (Rushing. Quickly. Redundant, yes. But oh, so poetic.)

They soon reached the gargoyle that blocks Dumbledore's office door. "Okay, what do you think the password is?" asked Harry.

"Since last time you told us it was candy, we should start with that," replied Hermione, ever practical.

"UNDERWEAR!" exclaimed Ron.

Harry burst into a fit of laughter, and Hermione rolled her eyes annoyingly again. "Honestly, Ron. You are the comic relief, but this isn't a particularly serious time in the story. And furthermore..."

But Ron quickly shut her up by pointing to the gargoyle, which had jumped out of the way.

"No way!" said Hermione, surprised.

"See! My yelling random things out at random moments randomly does do some good at times," he smirked, as they got on the escalator-type stairs to the office.

"Ah, Harry, Ron, Hermione, come in!" said Dumbledore in that croaky old "I think I'm going to die at any moment" voice we've all come to know and love. "Now, tell me what you're here for."

They all began to talk at once. Dumbledore listened a minute, then raised his hand for silence. "I didn't understand a word you were saying, because you all spoke at once, though I did catch something from you, Mr. Weasley, that sounded remarkably like 'underwear' repeated over and over again. Tell you what. How about you, Harry, tell us what happened, because the book series is named after you, and because Ron obviously doesn't know what he's talking about."

Harry smiled genially and began. "Well, we found their hideout."

"Who's hideout, dear?"

"The Dark Lord's, sir."

"Oh, right. Sorry. Senior moment. Where was it?"

"Deep in some unknown region of nowhere, in a dilapidated brick building."

"Oh, I see. And when did you find this alleged hideout?"

Ron had a blank look on his face. "Wait, what kinda hideout?"

Needless to say, Hermione rolled her eyes again. "On a dark and stormy night, of course."

"Ah, yes, that's right. But let's backtrack a bit more --"

"We can't, sir! That's the first paragraph of the story!"

"Oh, all right then," said Dumbledore, sounding hurt. "Front-track then, for all I care."

And so Harry told the whole story from start to finish up until this point. A lot of it was boring and pointless, and so the authoress will just not write it here and say he said it.

"But he was acting really weird, telling us to call him Uncle Voldie, and talking about Twister. Do you know anything about it? Because... oh. Oh no!"

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry with concern. " 'Oh no' what, Harry? Are you having cramps again?" asked Ron.

"No! The evil bake sale, the Hokey Pokey, the pink panties! ("UNDERWEAR!" said Ron.) It all fits!"

Harry looked at Dumbledore. "And that means you're... you're.."

"That's right Harry -- I am allied with Uncle Voldie!" Dumbledore laughed evilly.

"But... why?" asked Harry, stunned.

"Why not? You saw that look of triumph in my eyes in the fourth book when you said that Voldemort had touched your face. That had to lead somewhere. And plus, in case you've never noticed, our names rhyme. You know, Dumbledore, Volde-more. How could I not think that was cool?"

"But, sir," cried Hermione. "Your names are spelled completely differently!"

"So? Who cares? And who spells our names right, anyway?"

The authoress did, that's who. So poo on you, Dumbledore.

"Ouch," said Dumbledore mockingly to the authoress, "that stings."

"So, all this time, you've been siccing me on someone you like?" asked Harry incredulously.

Dumbledore cocked his head to one side pondering. "....Yeah, that's about right."

Harry shook his head. "I can't deal with this right now. I'm going to go take a nap."

"Wait for me, Harry!" cried Hermione. "I'll tuck you in."

"Go away, woman," grumbled Harry.

"One more thing." said Dumbledore lazily. "Harry. I am your grandfather!"

Harry gasped, shocked, then dropped to his knees, screaming "NOOOOOOOOOOO!" just like in Star Wars!

(So perhaps China's Harry Potter book did have some truth to it!)

*This leaves the door wide open for a sequel doesn't it? Well, unless I think up some more funny stuff, you ain't getting one. MWHAHAHAHA! Bow to me, evil onions... I mean minions...*