In Which the Dark Lord Loses His Powers

IN WHICH THE DARK LORD LOSES HIS POWER

By Layne

Lord Voldemort shuffled around the house at dawn in a tattered bathrobe and slippers. In the kitchen, the early morning sunlight was streaming in through the dusty window onto the floor. Voldemort opened the cabinet and pulled out a chipped mug - #1 Dad - and scuffled over to the Mr. Coffee, which still had a lukewarm brew in the pot. He poured himself a cup and scuffed in the living room, where he eased himself in the recliner, took a delicate sip (then realized it was a bit cold) and sighed.

    Stretched out on the couch, under a threadbare blanket, was Wormtail, snoring loudly. Remnants of last night's events still littered the room - the overturned chair, shattered glass from the portraits, a long, reddish stain streaked down the wall that Voldemort could not quite remember, but was pretty sure, was blood.

    Voldemort both heard and felt the rumble deep in his stomach. He set down his mug and went over to Wormtail, who was still asleep. Voldemort put a long-fingered hand on his servant's shoulder and shook him gently. "Wormtail? Wormtail, wake up."

    Wormtail grunted and stirred but continued to slumber.

    Voldemort shook him a little less gently. "Wormtail? Wormtail, I require breakfast, wake up."

    "Ngky," said Wormtail. "Geroff."

    "Wormtail," said Voldemort and there was slight bite of impatience in his voice. "It is morning, time to fix Lord Voldemort breakfast." He shook the shoulder with a faint trace of roughness. "Come on, now, don't play possum - it's time to wake up."

    "Not playing," said Wormtail, shrugging off his master. "Want to sleep."

    "Wormtail!"

    Wormtail sat bolt upright, looking throroughly disoriented. There were dark circles underneath his beady eyes, which had caught sight of Voldemort. "Oh, Master, I apologize, I was so tired last night - please forgive me for my - "

    "Yes, yes, yes," said Voldemort, waving a lazy hand. "I require cinnamon rolls this morning."

    "Yes, yes, of course," said Wormtail, throwing back the blanket. Voldemort noticed that he was barefoot and his feet were quite filthy. He made a mental note to purchase some Febreeze.

    Voldemort sat back down in his chair and took a sip of coffee, while Wormtail located a pair of slippers. To Voldemort's great displeasure, his coffee had gone quite cold. "I trust you know how to cook, Wormtail? Or at least, sufficiently conjure something edible?"

    Wormtail had a fleeting look of nervousness upon his face. "Oh, er, yes, lord, of course. You have nothing to worry about."

    Voldemort nodded. "You have not heard from Bella, have you?"

    Wormtail was shrugging on a robe. "Oh, no, lord, last I saw she had hunkered down in the spare bedroom - haven't seen her since - "

    Voldemort said nothing and waved a hand to shoo Wormtail into the kitchen. He glanced up at the ceiling, and saw the tiny blinking light of a smoke detector. He felt a small bit of comfort. He leaned back in his chair and heard the sounds of pans clanging together, then Wormtail squeaking an apology.

    Voldemort had not meant for the spell to go, as he described it, horribly awry. It had been a simple spell, for a great wizard of his magnitude and after a very, very long night, he had discovered, in a state of deep dismay, that the effect it had left upon him was going to be quite hard to reverse.

    He was, although he would never admit it, quite grateful for his loyal servants, Bellatrix Lestrange and Wormtail, even if the latter was thoroughly inept at most things magical and Muggle alike.

    "I don't hear cooking, Wormtail," Voldemort shouted and imagined the scared expression upon his face. "And I need some more coffee, this isn't doing the trick. Kindly brew another pot."

    "Yes, my lord," Wormtail called back.

    Voldemort, had the been the sort, would have chuckled. But seeing as he was not the sort, he remained silent and wondered vaguely if he should wake Bellatrix or allow her to sleep in this morning.

    About fifteen minutes passed, in which Voldemort read the morning's paper and listened to Wormtail's flustered banging in the kitchen, then his flustered silence, and then he could hear a kitchen timer ringing. It was at this point the smell of burning food reached the living room.

    Voldemort's slit-like nostrils sniffed the air. He set his paper aside and followed the scent into the kitchen, where a large amount of black smoke was pouring from the oven. Wormtail, looking horrified at having burned the Dark Lord's breakfast, was standing there with an oven mitt on each hand (one of them a cow, the other a pig) waving a dish towel at the smoke.

    "My lord," he gasped. "I am so sorry, I did not read the instructions properly - "

    "Wormtail," said Voldemort in a very strained tone. "I was under the impression that you had the ability to produce something edible. And these - " he pointed a long, white finger at the pan of charred cinnamon rolls - "do not fit under the category of 'edible'."

    "I'm so sorry, my lord," Wormtail said. "I am so sorry, I will never happen again, I promise - "

    Voldemort held up an hand and Wormtail fell silent. "Do you know what this means, Wormtail?'

    "N-no, my lord," stuttered Wormtail.

    "It means we're going to have to eat out. Do you have any Muggle money?"

They had roused Bellatrix from bed and seeing as they had no car or other means of transportation, they walked down to McDonalds. Voldemort, who wanted to keep up his (unfortunate) Muggle persona, donned a pair of dark sunglasses, a top hat (Bellatrix had conjured it for him by his request) and a simple black suit.

    They were quite a sight, the trio, as they entered the fast food restaurant, Bellatrix in a dark, flowing dress that could either have been deepest purple or black, it was hard to tell, and Wormtail, who didn't appear to make an effort at all, kept on his shabby wizard's robes.

    "May I help you?" said the confused young woman behind the counter as they approached.

    "Ye-eah, just a moment," said Voldemort, peering up through the dark lenses at the menu. "Um, you're still serving breakfast, right?" He had not bothered the check the clock before leaving.

    "Yes, sir," said the young woman.

    "Okay, I think I'm going to have a cinnamon roll and a coffee," Voldemort said and glanced back at Bellatrix and Wormtail. "What do you two want?"

    "I'm not hungry," said Bellatrix, who hung back near the display of current toys being given away in the Happy Meal.

    "I'll have the same as my lord - I mean...as he is," said Wormtail, eyes darting around nervously.

    "All right," said the young woman, who rang up their total. Voldemort pulled a wad of Muggle money from his pocket and handed it to the young woman, who looked astonished at the amount that had been passed to her. She gave him back the correct change (flinching as she did so, when she inadvertenly touched his cold fingers) and they waited for their order.

    Bellatrix looked most unhappy, with her arms folded across her chest. "Muggle establishments such as these," she said, with a slight sneer, "they make me most uncomfortable. So much filth."

    Voldemort, who was examining the display case of plastic toys, ignored her.

    At last, their order was ready. Voldemort claspsed his long fingers around the tray and carried it to a table near the door.

    Bellatrix watched in half-amusement, half-disgust, as Voldemort, ever the refined gentleman wizard, ate his cinnamon roll with a knife and fork. However, Wormtail noisily ate his, smearing icing all over his face and hands.

    "You sure you aren't hungry?" said Voldemort, watching Bellatrix from across the table, sipping his coffee (it was warm, thank God). "A coffee, perhaps? Or an egg McMuffin?"

    Bellatrix shook her head, her thick dark hair falling over her shoulders. "I'm afraid I've lost any appetite I might have had."

    The walk back home was rough, as Voldemort developed a stitch in his side. He forbid Bellatrix and Wormtail from Apparating and leaving him behind to clutch his stomach on the sidewak (and besides, the street was bustling with people) and so he sank back against a stone wall, biting the skin where his lips should have been.

    "These old bones aren't what they used to be," he said, with a reminiscent gleam in his eye.

    Once home, Bellatrix departed to the bedroom upstairs and Voldemort settled himself on the couch propping his feet up on the ottoman and seized the remote before Wormtail could. Wormtail, defeated, sulked in the green chair near the dusty fireplace.

    "Nothing on, nothing on, nothing on," said the Dark Lord as he flipped channels. "I was hoping to find a good monster flick on but it's almost noon, so perhaps not right now."

At around four o'clock, Voldemort used the last roll of toilet paper and decided to set off to the store for some more, declining offers from Bellatrix to conjure a roll. Still wearing the dark glasses, top hat, and suit, he strolled into the nearest Muggle market, the doors automatically sliding open.

    He walked down the specific aisle for toiletries and picked the softest rolls they had (or so said the bags in which they came in). He was just rounding the corner to the check-out lines when he bumped into someone rather familiar.

    Lucius Malfoy stood there, looking quite bewildered, clutching a bag of maxi pads. He and Voldemort stared at one another for a moment.

    "Hello, Lucius," said Voldemort. "I didn't expect to see you here..."

    "Oh, erm, right," said Lucius, who unconsciously hid the bag of pads behind his back. "Picking up a few things for the little lady - "

    "At the grocery store? The Muggle grocery store?"

    Lucius shuffled his feet and looked down at them. "Well, we - the Death Eaters that is, we decided that since you have had such a terrible inconvience that we would, well, resort to more primitive - "

    "You mean you all turned into Muggles? Or at least, are pretending to?"

    Lucius nodded silently, clearly ashamed. A pure-blood wizard as he should never, ever be caught dead in such a position.

    "I see," said Voldemort, as he adjusted his dark glasses. "Well, I admire your loyalty, such pleases Lord Voldemort. But really, Lucius, it wasn't necessary. I mean, really - " and he inclined his head towards the bag in Lucius's hand - "was not necessary at all."

    Lucius remained silent for a moment, then said, in what he hoped was a brighter voice, "Well, I'll see you around, shall I?"

    "Yes," said Voldemort, in what he hoped was a cold voice. "Yes, you shall."

And he did indeed see Lord Voldemort, that very night. Voldemort, who had forbidden Wormtail from even so much as entering the kitchen, had assigned food preperation to Bellatrix, who didn't seem to have much of a hand at it either.

    "It's not like Dark spells," she said, conjuring little tea cakes from thin air that rested lightly on a silver tray. "It's a more concentrated effort."

    Voldemort stood against the wall, supervising her efforts. "I hope those cakes aren't buttercream icing," he said, his voice lowering to a deadly pitch. "God help you if I find buttercream!"

    "And I've taken the liberty of removing strawberries from any food that might reach your lips, my lord," said Bellatrix, indicating with her wand the tea cakes.

    "Good, good," said Voldemort, who still remembered all too vividly that botched picnic by the lake two summers ago when it had been Walden McNair's turn to bring the sandwiches.

    "Where is Wormtail?" asked Voldemort.

    "In the living room, straightening up a bit," said Bellatrix. "I hope he hasn't made paper chains this time."

    Voldemort said nothing. If he had been perfectly honest with himself and he so rarely was, he would have admitted he rather liked Wormtail's paper chains.

    The door bell rang and Voldemort tossed his hands in the air into frustration. "They're here early, damn them! I clearly said six o'clock and it is obviously 5:47." He peered around the corner. "Wormtail, let them in!"

    "Yes, my lord," called Wormtail, who had a feather duster in one hand, his wand in the other. He had long ago abandoned all hope of successfully bewitching such Muggle items to do his bidding. He was never all that good at household-y spells.

    Standing on the threshold was Lucius Malfoy, holding several bottles of wine and his son, Draco, who looked very sullen. Wormtail bowed deeply and indicated for them to enter.

    "Hello, Wormtail," said Lucius stiffly as he passed and young master Malfoy said absolutely nothing at all. "Is the Dark Lord present?"

    "Lucius, Lucius!" said Voldemort, entering the room with a flourish. "How are you?" He and Lucius bumped cheeks and Voldemort turned to Draco, who had grown a considerable amount in the past few months and was nearly his father's height. He passed him a Galleon. "Don't spent it all in once place," he said, with a horrifying wink.

    Lucius held up the bottles of wine. "A little something for the Dark Lord," he said.

    Voldemort clapped his hands. "Wormtail!" he said. "Take these immediately from Lucius and put them on ice, I want them to be chilled for us."

    Wormtail nodded solemnly and took the bottles carefully, shuffling off into the kitchen. He rounded the corner and nearly ran into Bellatrix, who was preparing cucumber sandwiches.

    "Watch it, Wormtail," she said coldly. Behind her back, Wormtail made a rude hand gesture he would never have dared do in front of his master.

    Back in the living room, Lucius sat on the frayed chair near the fireplace, and was sipping a cup of tea which Wormtail had brought in on a silver tray. For Draco, he brought a tea cake. Draco looked down, then took a cautious nibble. It was very delicious.

    "When shall the others be arriving?" said Lucius, his little finger in mid-air as he raised the fine china to his lips.

    "Momentarily," said Voldemort, swirling the cream and sugar (two lumps) until the color lightened. No sooner had these words been said when the door bell rang again and a entire plethora of wizards and witches, all of them wearing their charateristic hooded robes, came in, seating themselves on the scant furniture in the room. Someone conjured a few rusted metal folding chairs, when there were no more available places to sit.

    "Good evening," said Voldemort to his assembled crowd. "I trust you are all well. Wormtail," he barked, rounding on him. "Bring us our tea - one lump of sugar, no cream, right, Nott?" he asked a man, who nodded.

    Wormtail returned with several cups of tea and a tray of tea cakes and cucumber sandwiches, which he passed to all the Death Eaters on little silken napkins. Bellatrix, who had taken her place amongst her fellow wizards and witches, had a very satisfied look on her face as they consumed the goodies she had worked so hard on.

    Voldemort stood and swept past the chairs (which took made all of thirty seconds, as it was a very crowded room indeed). "I have heard some of you have taken to more...Muggles ways," he said, with a brief glance at Lucius, who averted his eyes. "As I have already said to one you gathered here, this pleases Voldemort greatly. But - " he paused for a moment. "This brings me no closer to the boy Harry Potter."

    He sighed and bowed his head momentarily. "But no matter, " he announced, as each and every Death Eater had a confused look cross his or her face. "Wormtail," he said. "The Scrabble boards, please..."

The festivites did not end until about two o'clock, when Scrabble and then Monopoly (in which Fenrir Greyback was banker) and then Clue, in which Professor Mustard did it in the library with a candlestick and all (except Draco, who was dozing on the couch) were very drunk and very unruly and the police came around.

    At first they saw the flashing lights outside and heard the momentary wail of a siren. Then there was a sharp rapping on the door and a hoarse voice that said, "Police, open the door."

    Everyone froze and then began to reach for their wands. "No, put them away," hissed Voldemort. "I do not need a dead Muggle on my hands at this time - secrecy!" He staggered up to the door, placed the sunglasses on his face, then steadied himself before opening it.

    "What can I do for you, officer?" said Voldemort, in the perfect imitation of normality.

    The policeman had a paunchy stomach spilling over his pants and his mustache bristled when he spoke and Voldemort noted (with slightly, fleeting amusement) that he had a Irish accent. "We had a call about a disturbance of the peace - " He peered over Voldemort's shoulder. "What's going on here, now? A cult meeting, is it?"

    "Oh, no, officer," said Voldemort. "Just having a few lads 'round for a drink - "

    Wormtail took this as the opportune time to projectile vomit all over the wall nearest to the portrait of a respectable Muggle family looking slightly right to the camera. Voldemort's eyes, though no one could tell, flashed the brightest scarlet they had ever flashed.

    "Just having a few lads round for a drink?" said the officer skeptically. "I've worked in the force for nearly twenty-five years, sonny jim, and if you think I'm going be hoodwinked, you've got another thing coming!"

    "Hoodwinked?" said Voldemort delicately and gave a very harsh look to his followers. "No, never dream of it, my dear sir - "

    It was at this moment that there was a brilliant flash of light and the police officer, blinking furiously, turned around and stumbled to his patrol car and pulled away, with absolutely no memory of how he had got there and why he was there in the first place.

    Voldemort pretended to wipe an imaginary bead of sweat from his forehead. A few minutes later, all the Death Eaters Disapparted, except for Lucius and Draco, the latter being fast asleep in a chair. Lucius shook his son gently and then left they with a loud crack.

    Voldemort, gazing in the dark living room littered with bottles and tea cups and crumpled napkins, sighed. "Wormtail!" he bellowed and Wormtail put a hand to head. "Clean up please, I am retiring to bed. I want this place spotless when I awake."

    Wormtail nodded and set to work immediately, as the Dark Lord climbed the stairs to bed.

Voldemort blinked in the pale light, looking through the parted curtains at the graying dawn. The bed was warm and horrifingly comfortable. He turned over, burying his face into the pillow.

    He slept for another few minutes when there was a faint knock on the door. Knowing exactly who it was, Voldemort grunted and considered hexing Wormtail - then remembered, with a sinking feeling, that he could not hex him. He may never hex anyone ever again.

    "Lord?" said Wormtail. "I have something special for you - "

    "Wormtail, it's early," said Voldemort, who did not know the precise time and did not care to know. "Can't it wait?"

    "But, lord, I made you breakfast - "

    Visions of burnt pancakes and charred biscuits danced in Voldemort's mind. He imagined Wormtail behind the door, holding a silver tray with a bowl of cornflakes and a storebought muffin. He also wondered what it was Wormtail had screwed up. He paused for a moment, weighing his options and then flung the covers back and stumbled to the door, which he threw open.

    Wormtail stood there grinning broadly, holding up a tray of succulent breakfast treats - a variety of sausages, several different kinds of muffins, a stack of syrup-covered pancakes, a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs. There was a tall, cool glass of orange juice and a steaming mug of coffee, which now bore the name #1 Dark Lord. It was a display that Voldemort, never in his wildest dreams, would have expected of Wormtail. He suspected Bellatrix had a hand in this.

    "Thank you, Wormtail," Voldemort said, taking the tray from him. He felt an uncomfortable knot in his stomach which he desperately wanted to attribute to hunger. "Erm..."

    "Also, if you want it, I have powdered sugar," squeaked Wormtail, who produced a flour sifter from behind him.

    "Just leave it, Wormtail," said Voldemort, who had tottered back with the tray to his bed and Wormtail set down the powdered sugar. He was standing expectantly beside Voldemort's bed.

    "Wormtail?"

    "Yes, my lord?"

    "A little privacy, please?"

    "Oh, yes, yes," said Wormtail, who disappeared in a fluster and closed the door behind him. Voldemort had a strong feeling he was lurking behind the door, listening for the sounds of eating.

    Voldemort looked down at the tray of foods. It smelled most delicious. He sifted powdered sugar on his pancakes, then realized that Wormtail, being the addlebrained servant he was, had forgotten a fork.

    Voldemort sighed, not particularly keen to call Wormtail back into his room. He looked over sadly at his wand, which sat untouched on the bedside table. It had been 48 hours since he had performed a single spell. This has to be some kind of record, he thought bitterly.

    And yet...Voldemort now stared at his wand curiously. Perhaps - and he could not even muster up a faint trace of hope - he could do it again, that his powers had returned to him. He set down the tray beside him, where it balanced precariously. He reached over and took hold of his wand, feeling the smoothness in his fingers. A loving feeling (or at least the closest to love that Voldemort could feel) flooded him. All the feelings of the last days came to him - leaving Nagini with a very trusted Death Eater (for he could not control her, he felt - his Parsletongue having left along with his powers, oddly enough) - trying and trying again to conjure and do spells, coming up short each time.

    He bit his lip or at least where his lips should be and took a deep breath. He waved his wand - please, have a fork materialize, please, have a fork materalize. And then , it was the most beautiful he had ever seen. It sat gleaming before him, the tines reflecting the sunlight as it came through the slit in the curtains, the ornate handle with serpents carved into it.

    He picked it up, the cold silver in his hands. Yes, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

    "Wormtail," he called, knowing he could not be far. "I think, perhaps, it is time I go to collect Nagini...."

THE END