-1His Perfect Letter
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own Harry Potter. If I did, I would be an insanely rich Scottish lady by the name of J.K. Rowling, instead of just a slightly insane girl from Kansas. The only character in this story that I own is the nameless Death Eater.
Lord Voldemort sat at his desk in his study hidden deep within his stronghold, writing a letter. It wasn't just any letter, it was the perfect letter. Using his sources within the Ministry of Magic, he had managed to get a law passed which restricted the rights and movements of Mudbloods. The letter the Dark Lord was writing would be what the Ministry would send to those affected by this new law. Finishing the letter, he signed it:
Sincerely,
Your Humble Mudblood killer,
Lord Voldemort
Picking up his perfect holly and phoenix wand from where it lay on his desk, he cast Mosmordre on the letter. The Dark Mark appeared next to his name.
Gazing upon the perfect letter he realized, he wasn't sending this out to one of his Death Eaters or some nameless person he wanted to torture. This was to be the final draft for the Muggleborn Restriction Law that he, in his magnificence, had manipulated the Ministry of Magic into passing.
"Dammit!"
Picking up a large pink eraser, he began rubbing it against his signature and the Dark Mark emblazoned on the parchment. All he succeeded in doing was to spread the ink. Picking up his wand again, he attempted to vanish the offending marks. His name did disappear as it should have while the Dark Mark remained, a glaring reminder of his mistake.
Growling, he flung his wand down and said, "I forgot I made those damn marks unremovable and glamour-proof." Pouting, he crumpled up the parchment and set it afire with merely a glance.
As the ashes drifted down to his desk, the Dark Lord's red eyes widened. "NO! It took me three hours to write that perfect letter!" Almost in mockery, the bit of parchment containing the Dark Mark floated down to rest upon the pile of ashes, unharmed.
With another growl, he grabbed a clean sheet of parchment and his quill and began to write again.
"Now, what did I say?"
Four hours later found Lord Voldemort finishing his second letter. Rereading his perfect letter, he let out a roar. The letter read:
To my snooky-poo,
Hope to see you soon as I've missed you terribly. All this blood and gore is just not the same without you here to enjoy it with me.
Hugs and kisses,
Your snuggle bunny
"Merlin be damned! I spent four hours writing this freaking love note for the wrong damn person!"
Seething, he set the note on fire and reached for another clean sheet of parchment. "Oh well, third times a charm," he told himself.
Another four hours passed as the magnificently wonderful Dark Lord labored to recreate his perfect letter. So far it contained:
From the Ministry of Magic
He paused and began cursing. "Freaking hell! Now I don't remember what I was writing about."
Grabbing his quill, he began shaking it in his fury above the letter. Soon the entire parchment was covered in ink. Growling and cursing non-stop, he grabbed his wand and yet again, set the offending parchment ablaze.
All of the cursing caused his faithful servants to worry about their master. One brave (or stupid) soul entered the Dark Lord's office.
"My Lord? Are you alright? We heard strange noises."
Letting out another growl, Lord Voldemort bellowed, "'Alright?' No I'm not 'alright'! I've just spent the past eight hours attempting to recreate the perfect letter I wrote to the Ministry that I made the mistake of signing incorrectly." Looking at the Death Eater's stunned face, he asked, "And why the hell am I telling you this?"
Making a lunge for his wand, he accidentally grabbed his quill. Not realizing this, he pointed it several times at the Death Eater and said "Avada Kedavra" each time. All he resulted in doing was covering the man in ink.
Letting out a growl of frustration (he's sounding more like a dog than a snake right now); he took the quill and stabbed the Death Eater in the head with it. As the body crumpled to the floor, the Dark Lord turned back to his desk, covered in blood and humming "I'm a little teapot," to write his perfect letter.
One of the shadows by the door let out a little giggle. Luckily for it, Voldemort didn't hear it over his humming. For, hiding under his Invisibility Cloak, stood his arch-nemesis. The black haired, green eyed young man known as Harry Potter and to others as the Boy Who Lived, stood gazing at the fearsome Dark Lord with his wand pointed at the man. Occasionally he would cast a Confundus Charm upon the Lord and then giggle madly about it.