What Happened When Voldemort Saw the U-No-Poo Poster
The Dark Lord smiled. His conquest of the wizarding world was almost complete.
As he strolled, unhindered, along Diagon Alley in the cover of the dark night, he noted how different it now was from when he'd seen it last through the head of that brainless troll Quirrell. It was completely deserted—gone were the brightly-lit, bustling shops hawking cauldrons and newt parts. Every building, instead of boasting new arrivals or special offers, was boarded up or unceremoniously abandoned. Had he the fancy, he could grab a Firebolt right from the store window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.
If he had such fancies. No, broomsticks were of no importance to him, the one who had the entire wizarding world in his grasp.
Diagon Alley seemed like such a long street when it was devoid of people. He lengthened his stride, eager to finish this inspection of his domain and return to his manor.
Number eighty-eight… A jet of green light issued from his yew wand at his silent command and hit the unfortunate Mudblood beggar who had poked his head from the ruins of that shop. Eighty-nine…boarded up…Ninety…
Ninety-one…Ninety two…
The store up ahead looked almost brand new, even though it was as dark and quiet as the establishments behind it. The paint on the walls was still fresh and bright. Obscenely so—it was almost as if it was mocking what his presence had done everywhere else. Only the store sign showed signs of disrepair—part of it had been knocked away, with what was left swinging crookedly above the door.
Ninety-three.
A purple poster in the right hand window of the shop caught his eye. It looked similar to the laughable leaflets the old Ministry of Magic had distributed last year in an attempt to stop him. Perhaps the owners of this place had been paranoid—and foolish—enough to enlarge and post those ridiculous warnings there. For amusement's sake, he decided to reread those "security guidelines"—and relish once more how he had so easily managed to overcome them.
As he inched closer, he could detect the magic that had once been placed on the poster. Evidently, it used to attract attention by flashing yellow letters to passersby.
WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO?
He blinked. What? He was certain the Ministry leaflet had begun with "Protecting Your Home and Family Against Dark Forces…"
YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO—THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!
Red, slit-like eyes bulged from a white, skeletal face as he mouthed the words "U-No-Poo".
"Yaxley!" he boomed.
His subordinate appeared with a pop at his side, bowing. "Yes, my Lord."
Lord Voldemort had pressed the tip of his wand at the doorknob and blasted it open. "Who owns this store here?"
Yaxley looked up briefly to check the number. "The Weasley family, my Lord. Some of those blood traitors were using it as some sort of…joke shop until a short while ago." His lips twisted in disgust.
"Find them. And bring them to me, ALIVE."
Yaxley lifted his head all the way up for the first time, and his jaw dropped as he took in the sight of the purple poster. Well…those who tried to make a joke out of his Lord would soon find out that such a wizard was not be trifled with. Revenge for sullying the reference to his mighty power with a term like 'poo' was certain to merit slow, painful torture.
"Right away, my Lord!" Yaxley turned and Disapparated on the spot.
Voldemort hardly noticed Yaxley's departure as he stared, disappointed, at the empty shelves. "I must get some of THAT."
End