Chapter 2

The dark lord Voldemort was sitting in his office.

Great, he thought, another assassin… dead. His assistant, Suzan (with a z), walked in. She dropped the latest pile of paper on his desk and walked around to stand next to where he was sitting.

"More trouble?" she inquired.

"Yeah, big time." said Voldemort. "Can you believe it, Suzan? This John F. Kennedy dude just President-of-the-United- States-es himself and decides, 'oh, uh, wizards must be bad', so he decides to kill every last one. Who the hell does that?"

"Well," said Suzan, who did not understand rhetorical questions very well, "We had some problems a couple of years back with that K-pop Klan or whatever they're called-"

"Uh, never mind that", said Voldemort, who, after those events, had a crippling fear of racists. "What's important is what's going on now." Voldemort stared into Suzan's eyes dramatically, hoping yet again for her to realize that he was mimicking a love trope.

Suzan smiled with her eyes almost pointing in different directions and said "OKAY!" and walked out of the room, trying to figure out what exactly was going on now, since no one except for Voldemort ever seemed interested in her enough to tell her things.

Voldemort got frustrated easily around Suzan. He was, indeed, totally yandere for her, but she simply didn't notice. She never seemed to notice much. But Voldemort couldn't focus on that now. He had work with which to proceed.