101 Ways to Considerably Shorten your Life
Disclaimer : Dont own a thing, Mm'kay.
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Voldemort was furious - he had just failed to murder that awful Harry Potter for the sixth time this week. He could not this anymore. He was mad beyond mad. And it showed. Eggs couldn't be fried on his forehead anymore, as they would evaporate too quickly.
Everybody was afraid to go near him, except one little brave boy, with a strange request.
The little boy, hoping to get his request, put on his cutest puppy-dog eyes, approached the Dark Lord quietly, and said in a quivering voice, 'Mr. Voldemort, could you please give me a scar? One like Harry Potter's? I want to be famous!'