Universe: Harry Potter
Rating: T
The Powder He Knows Not
Lord Voldemort, immortal ruler of Great Britain and soon the entire world, sighed and forced himself to stand up straight before he strode in to confront yet another peon. Worthless and incompetent they might be, he could not do without the peons. He didn't have enough time and energy to rule the masses on his own.
One of Lord Voldemort's minions, one of his more competent Death Eaters, saw his lord's shortage of energy and enthusiasm. Luckily, he had an idea for a solution.
"My Lord, I have a supply of a powder, a sort of a dried potion, which will provide you with the energy to get through the day. I do not have personal experience, but I have also heard that the powder makes you more enthusiastic and better able to face life's challenges and setbacks."
The Death Eater would never dream of telling his lord that the powder came from the Muggle world and was not a potion at all. He knew the inevitable result of revealing that.
Voldemort considered his minion's words, then ordered, "Bring me this powder. Quickly!"
Five minutes later, the Dark Lord wiped his nose and upper lip, having been shown how to self-administer this potion. Even before he was cleaned up and presentable, he could feel the magic working. He definitely could handle meeting the next peon, no matter how peonerific!
...ooo000ooo...
Over the next month or so, several changes took place. At first, the deadly Dark Lord was noticeably, and frighteningly, more cheerful and energetic. It was disturbing to everyone to see a dread Dark Lord laughing and skipping and rubbing his lip on his way to meet with people who were more likely than not to be killed before the end of the meeting.
The Death Eater who provided Voldemort with his potion soon became the most valued member of the inner circle. Though the Dark Lord wasn't the type to feel gratitude, even he recognized the wisdom of keeping his potion supplier happy.
Before long, however, happy, bouncy Voldemort disappeared, replaced by twitchy, homicidal Voldemort. Even worse was exhausted, depressed Voldemort. His Death Eaters suffered the torture curse much more than ever before, and a few even died of it. No one was safe from his unpredictable moods.
No one except his supplier. Even at his worst, Voldemort never thought of killing or punishing his supplier.
There was a problem one afternoon. After taking his dose of nose potion and becoming briefly energetic and upbeat, Voldemort rubbed his lip and nose and… His nose? Voldemort checked again, then called his supplier back.
"Stebbins, what has happened to my nose? I am certain that I had a nose yesterday or at any rate last month, but now look! My nose is gone!"
"That is strange, My Lord. With your permission, I'll research this and report my findings to you."
The next morning Stebbins the Death Eater returned. "My Lord, it appears that overuse of this potion can cause damage to the nose. I had noticed that you had been using more and more of the nose potion but did not realize that it was enough to cause problems. Fortunately, I have learned of a new potion that has much the same effect, but with no risk of nose damage. Here is a sample of the 'meth' potion, My Lord."
Voldemort took the small item. "A peculiar name for a peculiar potion. How is it administered?"
"Chew it up and swallow it, My Lord. You should feel the effects within a few moments."
The good news was, Voldemort's nose stopped rotting away. (Not that there was any left to rot away, but there wasn't much other good news to be had.) The bad news was, Voldemort got cranky and crazy – crankier and crazier – from the very first dose. This only got worse after his teeth all rotted. Everyone lived in constant fear of death or torture or having Voldemort breathe his terrible breath in their faces.
Everyone except Stebbins, of course. Voldemort's supplier stayed safe so long as he had a pocketful of rocks.
The other good news was, Dark Lords are not known for being fitness fanatics, especially when they are undead monstrosities living in construct bodies. Their hearts are not up to the strain put on them by powerful potions. Voldemort dropped dead less than a week after chewing up his first rock.
As soon as the Dark Lord was down and cold, "Stebbins" washed off his magic marker Dark Mark, popped out his dark contacts, and perched his glasses on his nose. Stealing Dudley's stash before infiltrating Voldemort's group was the smartest thing he'd ever done.
Public Service Announcement: Drugs are bad, m'kay? Unless you make them yourself from all-natural ingredients, because everything all-natural is good, m'kay? Drugs you get from your older brother or sister are OK, because you can always trust your big brother and sister. And your parents. And drugs from your friend's big brother or sister are OK, too. Unless the big brother or sister is trying to get you naked. Then the drugs are probably bad, m'kay? And drugs you get from your inept minions are almost always going to be bad, m'kay?