Voldy and the Grammar Nazi
A/N: Heads up, the grammar mistakes that Voldy makes ARE intentional.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. In fact, I own neither Voldy nor his bad grammar.
It wasn't unexpected that Harry would face Voldemort again at some point. After all, Harry was destined to defeat him, which meant Voldemort wouldn't stop hunting him until one of the two was dead. Considering that their last contact had occurred at the ministry over a year ago, they were bound to face each other soon. However, Harry didn't expect their next conflict to come through letter. He was minding his own business, tending to the rashers on the stove, when a black owl soared through the open window. Harry knew that his Aunt Petunia would throw a fit, or at least throw a frying pan if she caught sight of the owl, so he quickly grabbed the letter from the owl, stuffed it into his pocket, and shooed the owl out the window. Luckily, his aunt walked in after the owl was well out of sight. As soon as breakfast had ended and the dishes were washed, he hurried upstairs to read the mysterious letter. Unfolding it, he read:
Potter,
My plan of taking over the world is well underway. The ministry is under my command, and their is nothing you can do about it. Dont interfere or I will kill you and you're mudblood friends. I will kill there families to. Dumbledore thought he could protect his savior, but he's not around anymore. Watch your back. I'll be waiting.
Lord Voldemort
Now Harry had grown up in Surrey with his relative, who ensured that his marks were much lower than Dudley's. However, that had not stopped him from noticing that grammar was more than important. Grammar indicated class, and bad grammar could easily lead to a dead-end job. While Harry had dreamed of unknown relations coming and taking him away, he had realistically planned ways to get himself out of the house and away from the Dursleys as soon as possible. He had originally planned to try to gain admittance to a prep school for when he turned thirteen – it would give him two years without Dudley there and necessary amount of time to raise his grades and figure out how to take out a loan for school. However, to gain admittance, he needed a good grasp on the fundamentals of both math and grammar. Just because his handwriting was beyond atrocious did not mean that he was incompetent in the area of grammar. Instead, he sat down and penned back a reply. As he wrote, he began smirking in a way that surely would've sent Snape running for the hills.
Lord Voldemort certainly could not be considered stupid. He had not obtained his current position through botched plans and mission, nor had he gained it through shelled out galleons to bribe others to his side. For this reason alone, he considered himself better than the vast majority of his followers. Lucius was not cunning enough to avoid bribing for his freedom and, more recently, to avoid prison in its entirety. Bella and Fenrir were both too far off the deep end to plan successful missions anymore. At this point, he could not entrust planning to anyone but himself. His letter to Harry Potter was planned perfectly. He sent a letter to the boy that would strike fear in his heart. Make any move against Lord Voldemort, and he and his friends would die. Don't make a move, and they would all die anyways. He loved these sort of propositions. Of course, all of Potter's friends were safely under wards, but Potter didn't need to know that, did he? As long as he scared the blasted boy into inaction, it didn't matter.
Just then, Bellatrix came into the room. She kneeled before the self-fashioned dark lord.
"My Lord, your faithful owl has returned," she said, holding out the owl that was currently clutched in her taloned hand.
"Excellent, Bellatrix," he responded, while relieving the owl of its letter. Unrolling it, he read:
Dear Tom (or would you prefer Tommy? Tommy boy?)
I have recently received a letter, which I suspect was intended to be threatening in nature. However, it is hard to view this letter as threatening when it is riddled so thoroughly with grammatical errors. Did your primary school teachers teach you anything? Or did you dismiss it as useless muggle stuff? A first year could've written a better missive than you did. I've included the necessary corrections for your poorly written missive so that you might be able to learn something you obviously didn't in the orphanage.
Dear Mr. Potter,
With the ministry under my command, my plan to take over the world is well underway. There is nothing you can do to stop it. Don't interfere. If you choose to, I will kill you and your mudblood friends, (and their families too). Dumbledore thought he could protect his savior, but considering he is dead, it seems that he might be too preoccupied to protect you anymore. Watch your back because I'll be waiting.
Best Wishes,
Lord Voldemort
I think it is a bit more threatening now, don't you? Best of luck in all of your writing endeavors.
Signed,
Harry Potter - a.k.a. your favourite grammar Nazi.
Voldemort wanted to scream, wanted to throw something, or even simply hex someone. Instead, he felt a little of his remaining soul die at the comments that Potter had so cavalierly made. Voldemort sat down to pen his reply, before swiftly turning back around to face Bellatrix.
"Bellatrix, I have a question for you."
"Anything for you, My Lord. I am but your humble servant."
"The sentence is: I'm going to kill their families. How do you spell 'their'?"
"T-H-E-R-E, My Lord."
"CRUCIO! Send in Peter."
Peter, the sentence is: They're going to die. How do you spell 'they're'?"
"T-H-I-E-R, master"
"Doubly wrong! You can't even spell. CRUCIO!"
Harry Potter was outside gardening. His last task for the day was to finish cutting the shrubbery in Aunt Petunia's garden. It was meticulous work; one wrong snip and he would have to start over. Just as he picked up the clippers to attempt to cut in a straight line, he saw a familiar black owl on the horizon. He dropped the clippers just in time to intercept the owl. The owl perched on his arm and held out his leg. Harry glanced around furtively in order to ensure that no one was watching. He quickly grabbed the letter and bade the owl to wait for his response in a nearby tree.
As he unfolded the letter, he ducked for cover. It would have been silly if it had been for nothing; however, a cutting curse soared over his head, impacting the shrubbery behind him. He cringed and turned around to inspect the damage. It quickly became apparent that he was going to need to thank Tom for finishing his chores for him and leaving the shrubbery trimmed perfectly. With that, he cleared the clippings and hurried upstairs to read the letter.
Dear Potter.
If you call me Tom one more time, i will literally march out there and hex you. Your return response made me nauseous. Do you pay that much attention to muggles? Muggles are good for nothing accept to torture. Do you have any idea to who you are talking to? Arrogant brat. You will pay for that. You are no better then your parents.
Sincerely (and utterly threatening),
Lord Voldemort
Harry chuckled when he finished reading it. Overall, the letter had come off as a cross between the ramblings of a delusional man and the temper tantrum of a toddler. It was beyond entertaining. That had made his day. Smiling, he wrote a reply and sent it off with the black owl.
Lord Voldemort had been enjoying his day so far. He had raided, plundered, and imposed his authority on all of his subordinates. However, that all changed when Lucius came rushing in, gripping a letter tightly.
"What is it Lucius,"
"Master, you've received a letter."
Voldemort reached out and snatched the letter, slowly opening it. He fully expected this reply to be cowed and submissive. He glanced down at the parchment
Dear Voldy (which is much better than Tom right?),
I is a pronoun and is always capitalized. Or are you feeling so worthless about yourself that you can't capitalize a pronoun referring to you?
On that note, it wasn't my last letter that made you nauseous. Your actions and appearance have made you nauseous to the general wizarding public. Oh, did you mean nauseated? Should have said so.
You're planning on literally marching out here? Funny, I would have thought you would apparate. As enjoyable as it would be to see you march from your "secret hideout", I'll spare you the temporary coronary. As to the comment about my parents – I may not be any better than them, but I have bested you more times than is advisable for you to count. Once, again, I have enclosed the necessary corrections. Please see to it that you improve in some way.
Dear Potter.
If you call me Tom one more time, I will literally hex you. Your return response made me nauseated. Do you pay that much attention to muggles? Muggles are good for nothing except to torture. Do you have any idea to whom you are talking? You will pay for that. You are an arrogant brat and are no better than your parents.
Sincerely (and utterly threateningly),
Lord Voldemort
Best Wishes (with your corrections),
Your favourite grammar Nazi
Harry Potter
Lord Voldemort was seriously peeved. He felt a bit more of himself die after the nauseous comment. Blast! He'd even had Lucius proofread his letter before sending it off.
"Lucius, come here," he seethed.
"Yes, Master?"
"Did you proofread the letter I asked you to before I sent it off?"
"Yes Master. It was severely evil, if I do say so myself."
"You blithering idiot! CRUCIO!"
Lord Voldemort took a deep breath to keep himself from killing this foolish man. His weak mind could obviously only handle so much torture.
"Severus, I need you," Voldy (I mean Lord Voldemort) hollered.
"Yes, My Lord," Severus answered. "How may I be of assistance?"
"Severus, the sentence is: Muggles are good for nothing except torture. How would one spell except?"
Severus looked around and saw Lucius crumpled on the floor, moaning.
"E-X-C-E-P-T, my Lord." He sneered. "What sort of dunderhead wouldn't know that?"
"Correct Severus. Now I… Wait a minute – dunderhead? CRUCIO!"
The rest of his followers could hear the Dark Lord screaming well into the night.
Harry Potter knew he might face an unhappy Voldemort tonight. After all, he was currently being transported away (or as he liked to think of it, jail broken) from his relatives house on the back of Hagrid's motorcycle. He could see the other Harrys flying in the distance when the aforementioned unhappy Lord flew into his view.
"Potter, I'm here to kill you and your friends," he yelled, his robes whipping around in the wind. "I wonder what effect the killing curse will have on you this time – Avada Kedavra!"
Harry ducked as the sickly green curse impacted the side of the motorcycle cart.
"Hey Voldy, how do you spell effect?" he asked snarkily.
"A-F-F-E-C-T! Oh blast," he yelled, seeing Potter starting to laugh.
"Well, it's not like you're perfect, Potter. You had a sentence fragment in you last letter!" Voldy spouted off irritably.
Harry smirked in such a way that Lord Voldemort felt his already reptilian body temperature drop another three degrees instantaneously.
"Well, Voldy, I hate to say it, but that is well within the creative license to bend that aspect of grammar. It adds a certain aspect of tone to the writing. On the other hand, you clearly wouldn't know about that since you have continuously broken the common and infallible rules of grammar."
"Just you wait, Potter," Voldemort pulled out his wand. "You're…"
Harry cut in, "What's next? Using 'Ur' like a little school girl passing a note to her crush?"
Perhaps it was being compared to a school girl with a crush, or maybe it was the looming coronary from dealing with Potter and being constantly told that he was wrong. Either way, Voldy squawked and literally fell off his broom. Such was the end of the Dark Lord.
A/N: This story started out as an original way to kill Voldy off. However, I know I will likely receive a few flames due to this. Before anyone starts flaming this, *I acknowledge that I make grammatical mistakes*. We all do. Some rules are simply too stuffy. In the (not so) immortal words of the founder of National Grammar Day, Martha Brockenbrough, "I've since come to understand that good grammar has its place—and that place is not necessarily in books." However, there are certain grammar rules that cannot be broken. Those mistakes, such as those that Voldy makes above, can literally make a person stop reading your story. Rest assured that this was more me poking fun at horrible grammar mistakes. Also: Nauseous vs. Nauseated- nauseated is technically the right word to use in this circumstance in Britain during the 90's. The usage is currently being revised to the more common usage of "you make me nauseous." However, it was just too good of an error not to use :). Thanks to KipperCat25 for beta-ing this story.