"So," asked Voldemort, "do we have any cookies?"
"We're not here to eat cookies," sighed Hermione, "we're here to plot a magnificent coup."
"I think we're also here to eat cookies!" exclaimed Voldemort. "Because cookies and coups go together like…"
"Cookies and milk?" suggested Severus.
"I think I have some of the double chocolate chip ones in the kitchen," stated Bellatrix.
Voldemort wriggled happily. He was filled with such happiness today! Visions of cookies, Bellatrix bearing his overlord spawn (not now, of course, but one day) and Albus Dumbledore fleeing the burning remnants of Hogwarts with a bayonet lodged securely in his back made him pat his belly with joy. He had no quibbles at all with how Albus would manage to run with a bayonet in his back.
"I like it when we all sit around in our pajamas for these late night talks," he remarked.
"Why are we all wearing pajamas again?" queried Hermione. "I mean really, this is a serious endeavor. This is emphatically not just a late night talk, and I think we ought to be dressed a bit more appropriately. In business robes or something. If I'm to be quite frank about it, I feel we're acting like Hufflepuffs at a slumber party."
Voldemort looked a little hurt. Suddenly he felt undignified, and wished he hadn't worn his fuzzy pajamas with the cartoon snakes on them. He had only wanted everyone to be comfortable! The vision of Albus Dumbledore writhing and twitching and dying at his feet seemed far, far away and his belly felt sad and cold again.
Bellatrix returned from the kitchen and shot Hermione a look which clearly conveyed that she killed people for lesser insults. She understood by the way Voldemort was clutching his stomach that his belly was filled with coldness and sorrow. She had learned from her intimate talks with Voldemort that he could often gauge how he was feeling by the relative warmth or coldness of his stomach. She reasoned that his mind must be preoccupied with so many important things that his other organs periodically had served in lieu of it. In any event, she figured that cookies would make Voldemort's stomach warm again, thereby making Voldemort happy.
"Double chocolate chip!" exclaimed Bellatrix, proferring the plate to Voldemort.
"No one takes me seriously anymore," Voldemort whispered to her. To be honest, Voldemort wasn't sure whether anyone had ever taken him seriously, but he felt whispering to Bellatrix, "no one has ever taken me seriously, and they still don't," wouldn't have quite the same effect.
Hermione leaned over on the couch to grab a cookie, seemingly forgetting her earlier qualms about planning sessions devolving into slumber parties. As she moved, her derriere wriggled delightfully in her perfectly plain flannel pajamas.
"I love you in those pajamas," sighed Severus adoringly.
"I couldn't wear them if I were a tapeworm," noted Hermione.
"I love your pajamas too," Voldemort remarked to Bellatrix. He blushed a little. Despite their newfound physical relationship, they were still a bit shy and smitten around each other.
"Technically, these aren't my pajamas," remarked Bellatrix. This fact was quite obvious to anyone who looked closely. It was, in fact, a very sleek green silk ball gown. "It's just something I put on. I sleep in the nude."
Voldemort and Severus both stared at her for a moment.
"She couldn't do that if she were a tapeworm, either, you know," Hermione declared with a great sense of purpose.
"Actually, if she were a tapeworm she would be naked all the time," retorted Severus bitterly. He wished Hermione could just put his former flames behind them.
"What's all this about a tapeworm?" enquired Voldemort.
"Professor Snape has just recently gotten out of a long and committed relationship with his tapeworm familiar," declared Hermione.
"Now, Miss Granger," replied Snape, "you know that isn't precisely true. It may be the case that Trevor, my pet tapeworm, developed some unrequited feelings for me, but I really think…"
"My God," said Voldemort, "you mean you've been having an affair with a tapeworm? That's enormously disturbing. I don't think even Albus Dumbledore would dare to consider an affair with a tapeworm."
"Shh," murmured Bellatrix, "we're supposed to be free spirited bon vivants who go in for that sort of thing. What Voldemort means Sevvie…"
Severus let forth a guttural noise that expressed his unbearable loathing for all the nicknames that had ever been, or ever would be, applied to him. Bellatrix chose to ignore it.
"What Voldemort means, Sevvie," she continued, "is that you should do whatever makes you happy. And if having an affair with a tapeworm is what does it for you, then, I suppose, providing Miss Granger is willing to tolerate it, there's nothing to disapprove of."
"That's admirably bohemian of you, Bella," stated Voldemort, nibbling his cookie approvingly. "Really, I feel that's what the movement is all about. Understanding and empathizing with others lifestyles. Out with the bourgeois ideology of yesteryear, that's what I say! Anyone can have sex with a tapeworm if they want to!"
Severus cast his double chocolate chip cookie down on the table with great fervor. "Now see here," he declared, "you want to know why we haven't taken over the world? It's not because fate is, in some intrinsic way on the side of good; it's because every time we have a meeting it devolves into a discussion of our sex lives. That's why we're so bleeding incompetent!"
"Well, we can't help it that we have such interesting sex lives. Or rather you can't," replied Voldemort.
"We can damn well help talking about them," stated Severus with great vehemence.
"Quite right, Professor Snape," said Hermione.
"You started it with all that business about the tapeworms," retorted Bellatrix.
"It was bad of me," said Hermione, "it shan't happen again."
"Fine," said Voldemort, though it must be admitted that on the inside, Voldemort was very sad indeed. Voldemort felt that now that he was at long last able to find someone who wasn't put off by the fact that he bore a striking resemblance to Satan, and was more than willing to have lots of sex with him, he could accumulate sex tips from his friends. As it was, this meant that he would have to resume approaching witches in the street, introducing himself as Willard the gardener, and asking them what they enjoyed in bed. However women seemed to take some offense at this. In the months to come, Voldemort would hear of the Kinsey report, and begin approaching witches in the street, introducing himself as Willard the Social Scientist, and asking them what they enjoyed in bed. The response would be much improved, but that would be another story.
"So then," stated Bellatrix, "we're going to throw a magnificent coup."
"You don't throw a coup," sighed Severus, "you throw a party. Or a beach ball."
"Ah," replied Bellatrix, "right. So, does anyone have any idea how it's going to go then?"
"Well, I've actually thought this all out," retorted Voldemort, "so you see, Severus, we're not quite as incompetent as some people are wont to believe. We'll begin by charging the grounds of Hogwarts with an enormous army of Death Eaters."
"We don't have an enormous army of Death Eaters," replied Bellatrix. "At last count we had thirty-three."
"That's fine, their little Order of the Phoenix only has about fifteen people or so in it, doesn't it?"
"True," noted Hermione, "but won't they find other people who are living at Hogwarts to help? What with us attacking them and all."
"That's fine," said Voldemort, "we'll just recruit people off the street. We'll tell them it's for a picnic. Everyone loves picnics."
"I could even bring food!" cried Bellatrix.
"Don't you think they'll realize they're not attending a picnic when the residents of Hogwarts start trying to kill them?"
"We could tell them it was a picnic game," suggested Snape. Snape had not been to many picnics.
"People eat crisply delicious slices of watermelon, wear charming straw hats and participate in egg tosses at picnics," declared Hermione, "they don't die in horrible, disemboweling ways."
"But don't you think they sometimes wish they could?" remarked Voldemort. "It would add new spice to their lives and all of that."
"I think that's really poor logic," said Hermione.
Voldemort felt that even the cartoon snakes on his pajamas must be depressed by this point. "Well," he said, "at the very least I think I should demand to duel with Harry Potter. Doubtless the core of our wands will have some bizarre effect, and we will die in unison, thus establishing Harry as some sort of martyr. A valuable lesson will be learned by all..."
"What valuable lesson would that be?" interjected Severus.
"Seemingly," said Bellatrix, "that if you're very, very virtuous you still die, just like evil people. So it's really irrelevant what you do."
"No, no, it has something to do with honor," said Voldemort.
"Honor is a very flimsy concept that's hardly worth considering," sighed Bellatrix. " Besides, I think it's made up by rulers to give their subjects a reason for doing things that would, under any other circumstances, be considered totally idiotic."
"But it sounds good," said Voldemort. "I'm kind of into this honor thing. Though obviously, in this situation, I wouldn't be honored. After the revolution, I'm going put up little plaques every where that say, 'El Elegance Elegante honors y'all real good.' It'll be folksy, and I'll win people over with my strange charm and Texan ways."
"We aren't in Texas," said Severus, "we're in Britain, My Lord. Folksy charms don't hold sway here."
"I think you might take that one up with the Muggle House of Commons, my boy," retorted Voldemort.
"But you'd be dead," stated Hermione, who'd lost track of the last bit of conversation given to her comparative lack of interest in international politics, "and that wouldn't do any of us any good."
"Death is fleeting but honor is forever!" replied Voldemort.
"What?" replied Hermione. "First of all, you're the not the one being honored. You wouldn't be dying for honor, you'd be dying to give someone else honor, which isn't a terribly bright idea. And second, death isn't fleeting, it's permanent. As Moliere says, 'We die only once, but for such a long time.' I know truth can be sacrificed for the sake of a maxim, but don't just throw up those statements and assume that if you put proper emphasis on them we'll all believe them. Because we won't, Willard, we won't."
Severus beamed. Hermione had finally put down her torrid tales for his highbrow literature! Though, he had to admit, he'd come to appreciate the alliteration of the former. The alliteration, and the sex up against a dungeon wall scenes, which one day, when his back was in better condition, he hoped to attempt with Hermione.
Voldemort snarled. Then he said, in a surprisingly calm voice, "Has everyone here forgotten them I'm Wizarding world's evil overlord? I know that the plethora of names can be confusing, but give me a little credit. I don't like to flaunt it – and I'm perfectly willing to play dumb so as not to alienate the masses - but I really am quite brilliant. And I'd like to be taken seriously."
A languorous hush descended upon the room.
"Right, then," replied Bellatrix, "I think we can all do that."
"Well, I'm glad that's cleared up," said Voldemort, "now you," he turned to Severus, "underling, pass me a cookie. No, not that one, Severus. That one has a disproportionate number of chocolate chips on the left side. As Dark Lord I prefer an equal distribution of chocolate chips."
"So," said Hermione, who now felt quite humbled, "what idea did you have in mind?"
"I think we should be canny. Canny like canny things."
"That's a fine plan," said Hermione, "though I think the analogy may be a little wanting. How about 'canny like a kneazel?'"
"Did you not hear him earlier?" said Bellatrix, "We're all going to respect him, and if he wants to say "canny like a canny thing,' I say that's quite all right."
"Actually, no, that's silly. I was just bluffing a bit there," said Voldemort. "I think I'm going to go back to eating cookies and plotting horrible yet fantastic and highly unrealistic revenges against my enemies. You three carry on with this business of planning,"
"But I don't know anything about how to take over a school," sighed Hermione.
"To be fair, in the past we haven't been all that successful at it ourselves," replied Voldemort.
"I think we should kill them all," said Bellatrix calmly. "I'll just systematically go through every room killing the inhabitants. Then, with Hogwarts firmly under our control, you can demand control of the Ministry as well."
"But then people would be dead," said Hermione nervously.
"Yes, well, that's kind of the point," declared Bellatrix.
"I don't approve of murder," said Hermione.
"If you don't like it, then you shouldn't do it. I support that. Of course, somebody has to, and on occasion I'm willing to be that person."
"No, I don't think I could deal with that. We ought to do something else," said Hermione.
"Well, we have to do something. Soon the situation in Hogwarts will be under control and no one will be too frenzied to react to us. We must strike!" exclaimed Severus.
"Well, has anyone any ideas?" Enquired Voldemort.
Suddenly a knock was heard at the door. An unmistakable knock, with a certain plastic quality.
"It's Lucius!" squealed Bellatrix, and rushed to the door.
Lucius Malfoy entered, sweeping his curtain of unnaturally blonde hair back. He was dashing in his tailored robes, his impeccable hat, and bright pink socks. Honestly, he'd never quite recovered from Dobby making off with his favorite pair, but he was trying to move on, and hoped one day to find another pair as flamboyant as the one Dobby had gotten a hold of. The only aspect of his outfit that one could really find fault with though, was the cane. Not many people knew it, but if you looked closely, you could see a tiny "Made in China" label engraved in it. Lucius, aware that his reputation as an arbiter elegante would be demolished if anyone ever found out, never let his cane out of his sight.
"Lucius," exclaimed Bellatrix, "it's so nice to see you! I'm so glad you escaped from Azkaban. We kept meaning to free you, but it's been so busy. We thought about it a lot though."
"Quite. Why are you all in your pajamas?" asked Lucius crisply.
"We're having a planning session," said Bellatrix, "you should join us."
"I have," Lucius said, breathing meaningfully, "great news. But first, it might be of interest to you that I ran into your husband. Apparently, he just got back from Mongolia."
"Oh," said Bellatrix without any trace of emotion "is he here?"
"I brought him with me."
"Where is he?"
"In the hallway, I presume."
"Excuse me for just one moment."
Bellatrix left the room. A few moments later a horrible, blood curdling scream resounded throughout the hall. Bellatrix walked back in, picking imaginary lint of her robes. "Such a pity," she drawled, "Rudolphus had to leave so suddenly. Apparently he was quite taken with Mongolia. He's going to teach the natives Arithmancy. I imagine that should take, well, a lifetime or so. I'm heartbroken, of course, but who am I to deny basic life skills to the Mongolian populous. Tra-la-la, life goes on, I suppose. And what was your news, Lucius?"
"I've just come from Hogwarts. I've single-handedly slaughtered all the teachers, and the students have surrendered unconditionally. The Potter boy is dead as well, as far as I can gauge from an overdose of prescription medication. He serves as an important reminder to young people that they should not do drugs, even if they have a lightning bolt scar that really, really hurts.
Everyone seemed shocked. Hermione's eyes rapidly became as large as Dobby's. Severus's ghostly pallor turned a whiter shade of pale than any folk singer could imagine. Even Bellatrix, impenetrable in her dignity, was surprised enough to drop to the floor the cookies she had been holding. Only Voldemort seemed nonplussed. Years later, people would say that this ability to keep himself together in the most extraordinary situations was what made him the best Dark Lord ever. Others said that it just made him uniquely unobservant, but to Hell with them.
"So," he said, "that must have made you hungry. Would you like a cookie?"
"Umm, well, yes, actually," replied Lucius.
"Good. Sit down and have a cookie and tell us all about it."