The Magical Dome
If there was one thing Voldemort wanted more than the death of Harry Potter, it was hair.
(A/N: Face the wrath of boredom and not trying to write good at all, so 'scuze it's suckiness, I wasn't into trying for something conceivably good).
Lord Voldemort was pissed.
No, not pissed as in "Scar-Twinge" pissed, but pissed as in "Full-On-Scar-Singe" pissed. Royally pissed. Magnanimously pissed. So pissed he was running out of adjectives.
Oy, he needed a Firewhisky. Or several.
Just look at the way it…it captured the light, like a magical dome of light catching dome-ness.
Argh.
"Er, Master…?" Bellatrix prodded cautiously, a single eyebrow finding it's way to her hairline. "Why are you admiring yourself in the mirror? Not," she added hastily, "that there's nothing to admire."
He spun around, and boy, did he look angry. But his eyes…were…were…impossible, simply unconceivable…
"Lord, are you crying?" Bellatrix asked incredulously. She had to be mistaken, perhaps it was a trick of the light…
But he scrubbed hastily at his eyes. "No," he hissed darkly, but he didn't mean it. She could tell because she knew him better than anyone, she liked to believe.
"Lord, you will get the damned Potter boy. Just because he's escaped by sheer luck-"
"NOT THAT!" he cried, and began to wipe his eyes on the sleeves of his robes. "Mmfald," he mumbled incoherently.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that-"
"I'M BALD!" he roared, and that seemed to make the loose string holding Bellatrix up snap. Slowly, cautiously, she began to giggle.
"Lord, that's not necessarily a bad thing-"
"IT IS, IT IS! The other day, a bunch of Muggle girls were laughing at me. They whispered, 'Look at Baldie over there!'"
And he began to cry again.
"Well, you could've just killed them-" She couldn't help it. A raucous fit of giggles swallowed her up. Never before had he acted like such a…human.
"What difference would it have made? It wouldn't have given me hair. Look at it-" A long finger whipped fiercely to point at his bald head. Bellatrix giggled some more.
"It's fine, sir-"
"Bellatrix, I summon you to go wig shopping with me!"
Her giggles turned into derisive laughter. "What in Merlin is a 'wig'?"
His glare was icy hot. "It's a Muggle contraption. It's hair, but it sits atop your head, like a hat. I want one."
If Bellatrix was not laughing before, she was now. Her sides cramped from the strain. She hadn't laughed like this in centuries.
"Sir, please. You are perfectly fine-"
"I WANT ONE NOW!" he whined, much like a three year old.
"Let's get one, then- I'll go with you."
Voldemort raised his tearstained face and smiled. "Excellent!" he cried dramatically. "I shall no longer be 'Lord Baldie', I shall be 'Lord Hot Tamale'."
"So Voldemort's out of the equation?" Bellatrix asked, quite sarcastically.
Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Shut it you."
---
Dear Salazar, you'd think there'd be wig shops on every corner, considering the rate at which men were balding. A quite quick rate, that was. And yet, Voldemort and Bellatrix glided along for an hour, and came up short.
"Call Lucius," Voldemort demanded, holding a Muggle cellphone out to Bellatrix.
"Sir…where did you-"
"Nicked from those teenage girls. Poor little thing when she realizes her texting days are OVER!" He snapped and wiggled his hips.
"How in the world am I supposed to call Lucius?"
He angrily peered at the phone and began dialing. "For the love of Salazar, must I do everything?"
As the phone was ringing, Bellatrix asked. "How do you s'pose Lucius'll know?"
Voldemort scoffed. "You think his hair is real?" And he laughed dryly.
Voldemort pressed the phone to her ear. "HELLLLLLO?!" Lucius whined grumpily. "If it's those Muggles, for your information, my refrigerator is running, and I have no desire to go catch it!"
"Lucius," Bellatrix said slowly. "It's me. Fellow Death Eater."
"Oh, joy," he said sarcastically.
"Listen, Vol-" Voldemort glowered. "I am in desperate need of new hair," she rephrased quickly.
"And…? This concerns me because…?"
"I need to know where a wig shop is!" she snapped.
"And what makes you think I will know!"
"Lucius!"
There was silence for a single heartbeat.
"There's one in Surrey," he said angrily. "Cheap and easy."
"Bye, Lucius!" Bellatrix said brightly, but had no damned idea how to hang up the phone.
"Give me, you daft fool!" He ripped the phone from her hand and clicked the red button marked "END".
She blushed. "I didn't think…didn't want to kill Lucius."
"Poor dumbass. It's a good thing you've got a hand at magic."
Her blush deepened. "ILOVEYOU," she whispered.
"What?"
"Nothing."
---
An hour later, because Voldemort refused to do Apparation for an unknown reason, they arrived in Surrey, in front of the shop marked "Wigs Galore."
"Is this it?" Bellatrix asked, staring with feverish excitement at Voldemort.
Voldemort gaped at her. "What are you on, Bellatrix?"
"ILOVEYOU," she whispered.
"What?"
"Nothing."
They stepped into the shop. Wig beyond wig expanded in front of Voldemort's eyes. He pointed to a curly red one. "I want that one."
Bellatrix inspected it. "You'll look like a Weasley."
"Damn," he muttered.
Bellatrix inspected a mused black one. "What about that one?"
"I'll look like a Potter."
"Damn."
A rotund lady stepped out from behind a rack of wigs. Voldemort fingered his wand.
"How may I help you?" she asked in an annoying Texas accent with a smile that screamed, "WTF IS UP WITH BALDIE?!"
"I'd like a wig," he said simply, and her eyes shot up to examine his baldness.
"Well, let's just find one for you…" She began to walk away, her big hips a swingin', when Bellatrix said,
"I think we're supposed to follow her."
"I knew that," he snapped. Though he didn't.
"Hmmm," Big Hips said, running her digits through a weave of dreadlocks. Abruptly, she picked it up and placed it on Voldemort's head.
"EGAD!"
"Well don't you look lovely," Bellatrix mused.
Voldemort felt the weave. It didn't speak to him…
"NO!" he barked, and Big Hips jumped.
"I need something that screams 'I'M AN EVIL GENIUS WHO PLANS TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD WITH MY RAPIER WIT AND AMAZING HAIR!'. And it has to be my size," he added.
Big Hips stared at him. Then she said, "This way please."
They followed her and then he saw it. It called to him, made his mouth water. Stark black with spikes like tendrils of an octopus sticking up in every direction. He drooled. Causing Bellatrix to drool.
"I want it, I want it, I want it!" He cried.
Big Hips smiled. "It's about 150-"
"Listen, Big Hips. I'm going to take that for free, cause I don't believe in the Muggle custom of paying. I won't kill you, kay?"
She looked abashed. He drew his wand from his cloak. She fainted.
"That was much easier than I thought."
He picked up the wig and placed it on his head. Bellatrix drooled some more. "How do I look?" he asked.
"Like a God-" she blubbered, then clamped her hand over her mouth.
Voldemort whooped with glee. "Excellent. Now who's laughing, teenage girl? I'm no longer bald!"
He skipped merrily from the store, leaving a befuddled Bellatrix behind.
Miles away, Harry Potter could feel his glee, and with difficulty, he extracted himself from Voldemort's mind.
Turning to Ron and Hermione, he said, "You are never going to believe this…"