VOLDY-POO!

By Belladonna Dwale

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all the characters in the story (except for Blanch) don't belong to me. I owe their existence to the Great and Powerful J.K Rowling. Warner Bros. has some claim to them due to the movie. Please do not sue me. You will only get my sisters, which would suck. Thank you.

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I slowly pace around my cell. I shoot daggers at the guards with my pale eyes. According to my calculations I've been here for about five years. Five long years. I look outside my cell and see large snow banks. I've been keeping track of days on the wall of my cell and now I'd say it's about Christmas. I wonder how my godson is doing and hope that he's happy. I sigh. This is highly unlikely since I believe he's staying with his aunt and uncle.

Some cheerful chattering is heard in the cell next to me. In the cell the noise is coming from is a monster. The only way to describe her would be as an obnoxious American woman. She had bright red hair - which is now darker and very messy from neglect. Her face is covered in freckles and she has violet eyes. She's been sitting in her room counting all 3,000 stones on the floor for what seems to be the hundredth time. She's given names to all but one row - about 50. None of the rocks have the same name. I admit that I've counted all 2,145 stones in my cell floor but naming them is a completely different thing. This monster looks up at me.

"Watcha doin' sugah?" she asks me.

I growl somewhat annoyed, "Thinking, Blanch. It's called thinking. You ought to try it sometime."

"Wat ah ya' sayin' dahlin'? That Ah ain't nevah think nun?" Blanch asked.

I tried hard to figure out what she said before I replied that it seemed to me she didn't think at all.

"Well, dahlin', when Voldy-poo -"

"Who's 'Voldy-poo'?" I asked. I had a pretty good feeling about who "Voldy-poo" was.

"Why, nun othah than Lord Voldemort, dahlin'. As Ah waz sayin', why Voldy-poo dun told me that when he took ovah Englan' an' all he'd let me have my own army."

I arched my eyebrows, "Don't you mean the British Isles?"

"It's the same thing dahlin'. Ain't it?" Blanch asked.

I hardly felt like explaining the difference between England and the British Isles so I simply shrugged. By doing so I spared myself from listening to her foolish chatter.

"Any ways, In mah army Ah waz gonna have it full o' lil' cute, cuddly cridders only thay ain't gonna be so sweet an' all. Thay gonna be mawnsteh demon cridders an' attack all the people who ain't been takin' no likin' te mah Voldy-poo. An' then only peepul who support Voldy-poo will be layft... Mah army's even gonna take on Dumbledore. An' yah know wat? He's gonna DIE! JUST LIKE THE REST O' THAYM!"

I pulled away from the wall that separated our cells in horror faster than someone would pull their hand away from accidentally touching a hot skillet. As I had thought before - and always had thought - Blanch was a maniac. She was the poster child (or woman) for why things that were "groovy" in the '70s did things to your mind.

She turned back to her wall which she had completely covered in all sorts of "cute, cuddly cridders" now she was drawing fangs on them. The bunny rabbits, kittens, puppies, and other cuddly creatures were now beginning to look very demonic. She began drawing blood and dead people on the walls. I closed my eyes and sat on the floor hoping in vain to get the images out of my head.

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Sirius woke up covered in sweat and looked around the room and breathed a sigh of relief. He was in one of the many spare bedrooms at Hogwarts that Dumbledore let visitors stay in overnight. Sirius stood up, stretched and walked to the window. His pale eyes gazed up at the full moon. He closed his them and let himself be bathed in the moonlight. He looked down at the school grounds and thought, 'If Blanch does succeed in getting her army of "cute, cuddly cridders" then the whole world is doomed...' With a sigh he turned into a dog and headed for the Dungeon where he hoped to find someone who used to be his enemy - Severus Snape.