So Long and Thanks for All the Fish
Written by Benign Overlord and The-1-and-only-YouKnowWho
Just in case you need it: Voldemort's Thoughts, Voldemort's Conscience, "Dialogue", Narration
Prologue
Voldemort, for the sole reason of exercising his superiority over his Death Eaters, decided to call a meeting. With a bout of malevolent laughter (again as a show of superiority even though there was no one around to see it), he raised his wand and intoned, "Mosmorde".
Only seconds later, his minions started apparating to his location. Numerous 'pop' sounds announced their arrival, akin to the sound of thousands of reactions occurring between hydrogen gas and a burning splint. As per normal, his minions clamoured to reach his feet, taking turns to prostrate themselves before him and kiss the hem of his robes, after which they headed to their assigned positions to await the Dark Lord's instructions, praying to whichever deity they worshipped that they had done nothing to incur the Dark Lord's wrath.
Voldemort stood before them, coolly assessing his cowering followers. His lips curled into a mocking smile. One weak-willed Death Eater promptly fainted in fear.
"Where's Severus?" The Dark Lord hissed menacingly.
"My Lord-"
The brave, or stupid Death Eater (depending on your point-of-view) was cut off by another 'pop' sound. The image of a flustered Severus Snape attached to a broadly grinning Harry Potter by the robe was eternally etched into the memories of the Dark Army.
"Potter, you imbecile!" Snape sneered.
"Hey, it's not my fault that my robes got stuck on your Death Eater mask! It was bound to happen one day, what with all the detentions you've been giving me!" Harry Potter, the bane of practically everyone in the room's existence retorted maniacally.
There was a pause in the conversation. The two looked around, only to see the frozen expressions of shock on the Dark Army's faces.
"Er... Was I interrupting something?"
"What the hell are you doing in my Death Eater meeting? This is private!" Voldemort snapped.
"And you care so much about my privacy when you use our mental connection to spy on me?"
"That's beside the point," Voldemort waved his hand dismissively. "Now get out of my sight... Oh wait, stay here so I can kill you! Muahahahaha..."
"That's my cue to leave! So long, and thanks for all the fish!" And with a very suspicious gurgling noise, the Boy-Who-Lived disappeared.
Voldemort suddenly felt light-headed, and technicolour polka dots sparked across his vision. He stumbled backwards from the onslaught. And was that a rush of warmth within him?
"My- my Lord?" Evan Rosier enquired meekly, still sore from all the crucios Voldemort had cast on him the previous meeting.
The Dark Lord sneered, "You imbecile, haven't you learned not to question me? Cru-"
Now that isn't very nice, is it?
What? Did I just think that?
And that was Voldemort's last thought before he fainted, collapsing onto the cold stone floor of his meeting room.