Author's Note: Okay, here I am, starting off the New Year with a chapter of a new story that I'll probably never finish anyway. (Just so you know, I'm on Chapter 13 in the HBP, so whatever is past that I'm not too sure of...just a few things, due to the evilness of Wikipedia...don't eat me, okay?) The beginning's a bit similar to Wish Upon a Raindrop, but, eh, oh well. Right, here it is:
Disclaimer: Gosh, do I gotta say it?
Faith: -death glare-
Disclaimer: Fine...I do not own Harry Potter whatsoever, JKR does, otherwise Sirius would still be alive. But I do own the plot. So there.
Voldemort was stalking around his room, giving Wormtail deathly glares every time the servant passed by. He was in serious need of a plan. Not just any plan, no, not at all. A good plan. One that would work very well for him. One that would destroy that Potter brat once and for all.
Oh yes, the Dark Lord--
(Suddenly there was scary music in the background, complete with thunder roaring and lightning cracking outside the window, despite the fact it wasn't raining)
--would reign terror once more.
But what could he do? His diary hadn't worked on the little Weasley girl...no, she was saved by Potter, and Potter defeated him and the basilisk. He couldn't use another portkey--Potter would be expecting it; this time, he'd be ready. It was already proven that his Death Eaters couldn't defeat a group of amateur teenage wizards, one of which being Potter, another one being Longbottom, of all people; if they were defeated by the Longbottom boy, then it's true: His army was seriously loosing their edge.
He continued pacing, his brain going through so many plans that there was a risk of it just exploding in his skull. Voldemort needed to have a plan. He just needed one, be it the smallest thing in the world that could possibly formulate a plot to destroy the Boy Who Lived, anything--
Suddenly the door flew open, with Wormtail smiling quite giddily. He was holding a scroll of parchment in his ratty little hands, which evidently was supposed to be very important. He bowed his head, and said, "Master, I had a message! It is addressed to the Dark Lord!"
(At this, there was more lightning, thunder, and music)
"Give it here!" Voldemort tore the scroll from Wormtail, who looked a bit hurt at the fact that Voldemort didn't say "Thank you", and opened it. Inside was written:
Legends tell of something great,
of a Muggle who has the power of
giving wizards and witches mysterious gifts,
more powerful than even love.
Voldemort glared. Mother's love, he thought angrily. Seriously, who came up with that crap? Mother's love, come ON, Potter's saved because his darn mother simply loved him so much she sacrificed herself for him; I mean, talk about cliché...
If stories are stories and legends are truth,
then how would you go with all this?
Are you going to simply pass up the offer to
be the ALMIGHTY wizard or witch?
Voldemort considered what this strange letter was proposing.
To find the Muggle who can give you this--
Voldemort stopped reading. "Wait," he said out loud, quite furious, "a Muggle is going to be giving me this power?! I didn't sign up for this!" He made a rude had gesture to the author of this story.
The author held her finger lingeringly over the "delete" button, threatening to erase him completely from the story.
Voldemort swore under his breath and muttered a quick "Sorry."
The author smiled. "I thought so." She continued to type away.
Voldemort decided that if it was a Muggle who would make him all-powerful and crap like that, he'd just get over his pickiness and get on with it. Once he had the gift, he could destroy the Muggle, anyway.
To find the Muggle who can give you this gift,
crack two eggs upon a head,
point your wand and say, "Yo, Eggs!
Give me the goods!" And with that said,
the yolk should fly into the air,
create a vortex, and inside it will be
the Muggle you should go and find
and is it the one? Well, we'll see!
"So...this is a fifty-fifty kind of thing, huh?" Voldemort said. He wasn't quite sure about the entire egg ritual, but decided, eh, if it's what he's gonna have to do, it's what he'll do. He'd crack the eggs on Wormtail's head, anyway.
About ten minutes later, the egg ritual was performed, and Voldemort stepped back, looking wonderingly. It was quite strange, but the yolk actually began to fly and spin in circles, spraying egg-glop everywhere. There soon was a vortex formed, and inside...was a girl, reading something, seeming totally peaceful.
Voldemort smiled. The Dark Lord--
(Scary music, thunder, etc.)
--was back.
Author's Note: Yeah...if the quality was bad, my excuse is that I wrote this chapter at two a.m., okay? There. Review. NOW.