Harry spends the seventh book searching for the six horcruxes, only to be offered a nasty surprise when he goes to kill Voldemort. ONESHOT.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own J.K. Rowling. I also disclaim any generalizations I may have made in the following story against the female gender. I also realize that a harem, historically was simply the quarters of women in the house. However, I am indeed using the romanticized version of the word.

The diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, Ravenclaw's relic, and the snake.

Harry took a deep breath from his hiding place right outside of Voldemort's lair. They've all been destroyed, he thought. All six horcruxes, gone. All I need now is Voldemort.

Harry fingered his wand, ready for whatever curses might be thrown at him. With a deep breath, he threw open the door and lunged in the room.

"Voldemo- what the bloody Hell?"

The scene before Harry was different, if not the exact opposite of what he had imagined, dreamed about in his nightmares.

"Oh, hello, Harry!" A chipper Voldemort called to him from his place on a large leather couch that curled through the majority of the room. On his right sat two attractive blondes; on his left, two more. He nursed a scotch, which was being refreshed by yet another attractive blonde. "Won't you join us?"

Voldemort retrieved his drink from the blonde that was refreshing his drink, and accidentally spilled it down the shirt of one of the other women, which caused the whole lot of them to burst into a violent fit of the giggles.

"I-I do-don't understand," stammered Harry. "You're the dark lord. Aren't you supposed to be in some dimly lit room, waiting for me to come so that you can kill me?"

Voldemort chuckled. "Oh, Harry, what quaint thoughts. Now come sit down and have a scotch." He patted the seat next to him, shoving aside one of the women in an attempt to create space.

"I-I'm not old enough to drink," replied Harry, obviously at a loss for what to say.

Voldemort chuckled again. "As if it matters, Harry. It's just me and my whorecruxes here, after all, and I assure you, they won't whisper a thing about what happens in here." Voldemort smirked. "Right, girls?"

Harry paused. "Wait. Did you just say 'whorcruxes?'"

"Why yes, of course, Harry, surely Dumbledore told you all about them?" Voldemort motioned towards the still empty seat beside him. "Now won't you come sit down?"

Harry nodded his head skeptically. "No, I think you're confused. Dumbledore told me about horcruxes, or objects that possess part of your soul, and all six of yours have been destroyed. By me."

"Oh, no, Harry, those were just made up. They're not actually real," said Voldemort, shaking his head with amusement.

"No, you're wrong," Harry replied, reaching for his wand in frustration. "I've just spent an entire book searching for your horcruxes, I've gone through a ton of shit, and you just stand here now telling me that they're completely made up. That can't be true, can it?"

Voldemort sighed, pulling his arm out from behind the attractive blonde on his left. "Harry, when I gave my statement to Jo, she misheard me."

"She misheard you?" cried Harry in disbelief. "What the bloody Hell does that have to do with anything?"

"She though that I said 'horcruxes,'" stated Voldemort. "When I really meant 'whorecruxes.'"

"Oh my God…" muttered Harry in realization.

"So she wrote the entire novel around the idea of 'horcruxes,' or the pieces of soul that you were referring to. When in actuality, I was really talking about my harem."

Harry dropped his head in frustration. "Your harem? So you mean that I've been chasing down and destroying these random pieces of shit for nothing? Fucking Hell, I'm going to kill her…"

Voldemort gazed sympathetically at Harry. "Would a scotch make you feel any better?" he offered, patting the still-empty seat beside him. "Giselle, get me another glass of scotch," he said to a sixth blonde on the opposite side of the couch.

Finally giving in, Harry sat down.

A/N- Okay, feel free to kill me now. I just kind of had to write this, for the randomness factor.

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