Disclaimer: Kelly and I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters. But we do own Helen.. Muahaha!
Voldemort sat in his leather La-Z-Boy recliner, his legs crossed comfortably. The night was dark and the clouds were bloated with rain. It was May 6th, the last episode of Friends. Voldemort knew this. He thought, perhaps, that the entire school of Hogwarts knew this. Perhaps Harry too sat in a comfortable La-Z-Boy, a bag of chips in his hand, preparing himself for two hours of Jennifer Aniston, Matthew Perry, Courteney Cox, Lisa Kudrow, Matt LeBlanc, and David Schwimmer.
Voldemort squirmed in his tightly fit Friends t-shirt and matching cap. His eyes grew wide as the opening theme played from his television. "I'll be there for you..." He whispered along eerily with the Rembrants, tapping his foot subconsciously. His english accent protruded brutally. He successfully clapped along with the song. He smiled. He spent 6 years, including the ones he wasted tormenting Harry, learning that swift, obnoxious clap that drove dogs and goats crazy.
Two hours went by all too fast. And for the first time, he cried. He crawled pitifully from his recliner, his thin, knobby fingers touching the rolling credits. "I need more." He muttered. He glanced at his empty bag of Doritos and his stomach growled. "More chips.. Not to mention more episodes of Friends." He stood. "More.."
He went for the phone. He dialed the number of the producer of Friends. He had memorized it since he had complained about Bruce Willis's appearances as Paul Stevens, but absence after three episodes. The phone was answered.
"Hello?" Voldemort recalled the producer's voice. Yes, it was the producer he was speaking to.
"Hello.. It's umm.. Stewart again." Voldemort had used an alias to cover his identity.. He wasn't sure of how much the muggles knew.
"Dammit, Stew. What do you want?"
"I need more." He growled.
"More T-shirts? Look, the last one was free because I had a latte. Lattes make me happy."
"No, no.. More episodes."
"What?"
"You heard me. More episodes. Get Jennifer and David.. The entire cast while your at it. I need more."
"They've signed the papers. It's over, Stew. Friends is over."
"No.. NOOOOO!!" Voldemort dropped the phone.
"I need more." He strode toward the window, watching cars roll by. "If the producer won't abide my orders, the cast will..." He drummed his fingers against the window sill. "Blast!" He exclaimed, slamming his fist.
The force in his slamming caused the window to slide down, crushing his fingers. "Aaargh! Bloody hell, I say!" He squirmed, pulling his fingers from the window. It wouldn't budge. He tried lifting it with his body, but no avail.
"Don't swear! I've already gone through a package of soap washing your mouth out. You're probably the most sterile kid on the block." She waddled to his chair, her short, pudgy fingers grabbing his Doritos bag and dropping it into the trash. "Your fingers caught in the window again?" His mother, Helen, said. "You know, your not going to always going to get your way. And when you slam your fist on the sill, that's not going to help." She said, putting her hands on her hips.
Voldemort sighed. He hadn't time for another lecture. "Not now, Helen! I'm not a kid! Just help me get my fingers out of the window!" He said, struggling not to burst into a teary rage. His fingers were going numb.
"It's mother! Call me mother! You're not going to get my help if you treat me like another one of your Death Chewers or whatever you call them.." She said.
"Death Eaters, mother! Death Eaters!" He corrected.
"Whatever."
"Mother, just get my fingers out!" He said, cursing under his breath.
"Fine." With ease, she lifted the window.
"Thank you." Voldemort shook the pain from his fingers.
"So, what's the slamming your fist for anyway?" Helen said, wandering to the fridge.
"Friends.. It's over." Voldemort grew near to tears again.
"Don't be such a cry baby. And I know your not gonna do something unless it involves Harry, so throw out any ambition of possibly bringing it back." She said, searching the fridge.
"It will involve Harry!" Voldemort wandered to his La-Z-Boy, leaning on the armrest. "Yes.. That show was nothing without Bruce Willis! Nothing!"
"Sounds like Voldey's got a crush."
"No mother! He's just a dream.. Only a dream.. Anyways, I will involve Harry Potter.. I will.." He said, once again striding to the window. "I will." He drummed his fingers on the sill. Too bad Helen hadn't locked it in place. The window came down on his already sore fingers again. "Blast!" He gasped.
Kelly and I hope you enjoyed our prologue to "The One Where Voldemort Kidnaps Us"! The prologue was written by me, Allison, so wait for more Bruce-Willis-loving fun in our next chapter, authorized by Kelly! Once again, R&R!