A/N: Ello, poppet! So yes, this is the third time that we have reposted this story, as everyone refuses to read it. Hopefully, if we update this a bit, it'll stay near the top of the list so people will actually know it exists.

Disclaimer: We own nothing from Harry Potter, Monty Python's Flying Circus, or Yu-Gi-Oh!: The Abridged Series.

Chapter 1

It was a beautiful morning in some city somewhere in the world. The sun had just begun to peek up above the horizon, piercing the crisp, spring air with dazzling streaks of light that blinded all who gazed up at them. Large, white, puffy clouds caught the light and reflected it back into the sky that turned it into a myriad of marvelous colors. Trees stretched in the early morning glare, rousing birds from their peaceful slumber. A soft breeze stirred the leaves on outstretched branches, carrying smells from the city into the surrounding park. Smells of fresh coffee being brewed and bakeries baking wafted throughout. People in cars sighed heavily as the wonderful smells greeted their noses, and then coughed when their cars' exhaust blew in their open windows. Litter danced across the street and tried to impress working citizens with their pirouettes. Somewhere a power drill rose and began its arduous work of digging through cement. Another answered it from the other side of the city, and the air hummed with its wonderful noise. Ah, the oh so peacefulness of urban life.

If you are still reading this elaborate description on my interpretation of cities, then I can safely say that I am amazed. I do believe it was getting a bit boring.

Sigh. I never wanted to be a writer anyways. I wanted to be a mime! Combing the city and stalking individuals! Being trapped in imaginary boxes and going down nonexistent elevators and—

Ouch! Alright, alright! I'm going! Just crush my dreams will you, you excrement! Sitting on your butts sipping brandy and picking black heads! I had it tough as a child! I had to wake up at ten at night, half an hour before I went to bed, eat a lump of cold poison, pay money to work at the mill and then when I got home my dad would kill me and dance on my grave! And if that wasn't enough—

Hello. What a happy day. Happy happy happy happy happy. At least that was what the birds were singing. They chirped their sweet melodies to all who passed by. And on this particularly gorgeous morning, the Dark Lord Voldemort decided to take a stroll.

He walked along, humming a little tune. He passed many park benches, some occupied, some not. Whenever he passed by people, they had to turn away, for the sun's glare off his large bald head was blinding to the extent that small, purple, dancing Voldemorts were permanently ingrained in their minds.

Voldemort happened to not notice his effect on people as he walked, then skipped, then jumped, and then started walking again. His mind was full of plans to finally destroy his arch nemesis, The Guy in the Hot Dog Suit. If you were thinking Harry Potter, you were wrong. WRONG I SAY! WRONG WRONG WRONG! INCORRECT, FAULTY, FALSE! NOT RIGHT! NO STAY AWAY FROM MY CHILDREN—

Ahhhhhhh. That's nice.

Sorry. Back to the amazingly fascinating story.

Voldemort did happen to have the Boy Who Lived in his mind. He hated that stupid nickname. He wanted to kill it. Permanently. He would make it the Boy Who Lived, For A Bit…Then Died! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!

Laughing evilly to himself, Voldemort didn't notice the black-suited men wearing sunglasses advance toward him from behind. Suddenly a sack was thrown over his head. The strong smell of burlap had a hard time penetrating Voldemort's slitted nostrils. When it did, Voldemort gagged and flailed blindly and helplessly.

When the sack was removed, Voldemort found himself in a small white, square room. He was seated in a wooden chair in front of a plain desk that was bare except for a single lamp shining down on it. The chair across from him swiveled around and one of the men in sunglasses glared at him.

"You have been chosen at random to take part in a government program."

Voldemort stared at him with his mouth gaping open.

This government program was televised live under the title: Government Test: How Not To Be Seen. Bellatrix Lestrange was watching the broadcast with her relatives Rodolphus and Rabastan, and they were amazed to recognize some fellow co-workers.

"In this documentary, we shall attempt to teach you how not to be seen," began the announcer. "Here we have a seemingly empty field. Somewhere however, Professor Severus Snape is hiding. Professor Snape, will you please stand up?"

Snape rose from a pile of long grass. Suddenly a shotgun blasted, and he collapsed to the ground.

"This demonstrates the value of not being seen.

"In this next shot of an equally concealing field, student Draco Malfoy cannot be seen. Mr. Malfoy, will you please stand up?" Draco stood up from behind a log, wearing nothing but a pink G-string.

"Oh god! Oh god! Someone kill it! Kill it now! It's horrible, terrible! My eyes! They're burning! Oh agony!"

"You know you like it, Mr. Announcer." Draco licked his lips seductively before getting shot.

In the background, the announcer felt like he was dying inside.

"I'm not getting paid enough to witness something like that!" He began to cry. "I'm scarred forever. Forever! Oh, we're on. Crap!"

He cleared his throat.

"This is Hermione Granger. She cannot be seen. Miss Granger, will you please stand up?"

Pause.

"Miss Granger has learned the value of not being seen, not to stand up. Unfortunately for her, she has chosen an obvious piece of cover."

The bush in the middle of a field exploded. A scream echoed out for a moment, then silenced.

"Finally, we have Lord Voldemort. We do not know which of the three bushes he is behind. However, we will soon find out."

The bush on the far right exploded. Then the bush on the far left exploded. Finally, the bush in the middle blew up and Voldemort screamed.

"Yes, it was the middle one. Thank you for watching ladies and gentlemen. Join us next time for—"

Bellatrix turned off the T.V. and stared in disbelief at her companions.

"Is, is, um…he dead?" Bellatrix asked.

"Who?" asked her husband, Rodolphus.

"You know, master."

They stared at her.

She stared at them.

They stared at her.

She stared at them.

They stared at her.

"LORD VOLDEMORT, YOU IDIOTS!"

"Oh. I don't know," said Rabastan.

"It did seem as if he blew up, didn't it?" said Rodolphus. Suddenly his nose crinkled. "Do you guys smell something weird?"

Bellatrix and Rabastan started sniffing around.

"Yeah," Bellatrix answered. "Smells kind of like burnt AHHHH!"

"Burnt ahhhh? I have never heard of that….oh! Lord Voldemort!"

Rabastan smiled up at his master who had just entered the room, smoking a bit. He was not only smoking a cigarette, but his very skin was smoking. It gave off a very unpleasant odor.

"Didn't you just explode?" asked Rodolphus.

"Yes. I died. But then I came back to life."

"Uh…huh...That's very nice boss. Here, let's just go to the meeting already." Bellatrix led Voldemort out the door and up the stairs.

Voldemort continued in vain to convince his partners of his experience with rebirth. They all simply nodded and said, "Yes, boss, we believe you," as if he were insane.

Oh well, he thought. I'll just smite them sometime later.